"I'm right here, doll. Don't you ever be scared when I'm with you."
Masterlist: Steve Rogers
Series:
Darling-of-the-devil
Mini-series
The Barnes Girl: Part 1, Part 2
When Devotion Hurts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
One Shots:
Only-in-silence
This-is-me-trying
Steve Rogers Bingo Masterlist:
pick-a-square-fall-in-love
Please do not copy, steal or repost my work. I acknowledge that I do not own much of the characters and that this is my original work. Moodboard is made by me, do not steal!
What was supposed to be my take on a regular kinktober has developed, thanks to whoresome @stargazingfangirl18's enabling (and the title of the event! 💦🤭), into a twisted event of kinks with monsters. It will sate the horny vibe of kinktober and mix it with Halloween vibe for monsters.
There will be actual monsters, but also men acting like monsters (masked men, brutal mafia, stalkers). You can expect mostly short pieces, but also at least one full fic 👀
Hope you'll have fun with me! and praying we all survive
List of kinks
day 1. praise kink - Double effort (naga!Lloyd Hansen x female reader)
day 2. face riding - Sweet addiction (minotaur!Ari Levinson x female reader)
day 3. cnc + primal - Abandon all hope (Alpha!Steve Rogers x female reader)
day 4. subspace - Deep under (cecaelia!Ari Levinxon x female reader)
day 5. bad boy - No good deed goes unpunished (Beta!Jake x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Curtis)
day 6. spanking - Savoir-vivre (mafia!Andy Barber x female reader)
day 7. sensory deprivation - He who brings the night (vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader)
day 8. waxplay - Melt in your hands (fire demon!Nick Fowler x female reader)
day 9. sex tape - Smile for the camera (striga!Ransom Drysdale x succubus!reader)
day 10. edging - No rest for the bad girls (incubus!Hal Carter x female reader)
day 11. pet play - Unusual familiar (warlock!Lloyd Hansen x female reader)
day 12. cockwarming - Deals veiled in dawn (dark elf!Drew Deviln x female reader)
day 13. facefucking - Fern's creek (leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader)
day 14. creampie - Good things come to those who beg (Alpha!Curtis x Omega!female reader)
day 15. spitroasting - Blessing of the season (Steve Rogers x female reader x dark elf!Drew Devlin)
day 16. bondage - Leatherbound (orc!Curtis Everett x female reader)
day 17. masks - Trouble comes in threes (dark!Ransom Drysdale x female reader x dark!Johnny Storm x dark!James Mace)
day 18. double penetration - Of spirits and creatures (dryad!Cole Turner x dryad!female reader x satyr!Jake Jensen)
day 19. collaring - All the better to lead you (werewolf!Steve Rogers x female reader)
day 20. cum play - Lunch break (orc!Bucky Barnes x female reader)
day 21. free use - Dark delight (dark fae!Ransom Drysdale x female reader)
day 22. somnophilia - Tuck you in (stalker!Cole Turner x female reader)
day 23. anal - Masquerade (faun!Lloyd Hansen x female reader)
day 24. object insertion - Wake thy power (dark mage!Nick Fowler x female reader)
day 25. breeding - Resin warmed by fire (dragon!Andy Barber x female reader)
day 26. overstimulation - The greatest fall (fallen angel!Steve Rogers x female reader)
day 27. breathplay - Breath and bone (dark general!Curtis Everett x female reader)
day 28. fucking machine - Life Essence (doctor Frankenstein!Bucky Barnes x female reader x Frankenstein's monster!Steve Rogers)
day 29. cuckolding - Fine print (demon!Ari Barber x female reader)
day 30. degradation/humiliation - Potential uncovered in darkness (vampire!Andy Barber x female reader)
day 31. public sex + corruption - Holy (priest/demon!Nick Fowler x female reader)
*size kink isn't on the list because it'll be included in most of these stories anyway 😏
This wetnessday a certain mob boss has set his eye on you after you were the nurse that took very good care of his right hand man. You didn't know you were taking care of a mobster. Maybe he has gathered intel about you during his plenty visits. At first you thought the delivery of a basket full of the most delicious cherries was a simple thank you by the man. You would have never expected him to pick you up for a date you didn't even know about.
Who's the mobster?
xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦
Hi! 🩷 I'm good, too!
This time I'm picking Steve right away, but it's not even because I'm Steve obsessed. A mobster who is invested in his right hand man's wellbeing and treatment? And who appreciates genuine care? That's Steve!
Yes, he's a mobster and ge can be ruthless. Maybe even a little unhinged. But he has a weakness for kindness and respect for professionalism and competence.
When the nurses call you into the social room you are stunned to find a huge basket with a big bow. Filled over with shiny, ruby cherries.
The note attached to it is addressed to you by full name. The writing inside short, but personal.
You share the cherries with the staff, but still eat most of it yourself. The image of the man behind the gift flashing in your mind between bites.
While the nurses gushed and giggled about James Barnes, you couldn't help glancing at his boss - Steve Rogers - whenever he visited his friend. But finding him attractive, magnetic even, didn't mean you crossed any professional lines.
Basket of fruit might fall within the lines of a typical gift a patient might leave, but the note...
Some of the nurses already eyed you with that knowing smirk, as if you fucked the man. Which you didn't.
And you won't!
Thinking of his gaze holding yours captured as he eased his fingers between your thighs to check if you're as sweetly tart as the cherries... well, that was just a fantasy of a woman who had plans with a vibrator after work.
However, when you left the clinic into the hues of golden hour, your plans were changed for you.
Steve was waiting beside the open backdoor of a black, impressive car. Sunlight caressed the side of his face, casting a sharp shadow on the other side.
"Come on, Sweetness." He smiled at you.
You gulped, staring at him in astonishment. Your feet moved slowly forward. You were drawn to him, but a part of you hesitated in wariness.
"Mister Rogers," you bit your lower lip, "I'm thankful for the cherries, they were delicious, but I don't need a ride. That's too much, really."
His hand moved toward your face slowly, you didn't even flinch. He traced a single fingertip along your cheek.
"Get in the fucking car, Sweetness." His voice was still calm, soft, but the demand made you shiver.
You weren't sure if it was in fear, or arousal.
"Why?" You blurted out, feeling a hot wave of nervousness - or were you flustered?
Steve's smile coiled into a sinful smirk as he moved even closer. So close his warmth enchanced the earthy scent of his perfume.
He gripped you chin. Not harshly, but with a command that made your pupils filate and your thighs clench.
"Because we have a table waiting. I want to wine and dine you first, before I taste your sweet pussy and have it creaming on my cock."
You're a successful businesswoman running a high end matchmaking company that caters to the people at the top - even if that top is shrouded in darkness and comes with dangers.
Yes, you arrange relationships for cutthroat CEOs, heirs to bloody fortunes, as well lethal mob rulers.
There's calculation behind each match, taking into consideration each detail. It's how you keep winning.
Which is why you don't promise all those eager families of future brides that they get the most desired man. The black diamond of them all.
That match has to be perfect, your greatest success of all.
You even have an idea on who to pick for him. A woman that isn't the most bold or overly sweet, but has a quiet grace to her.
So far, he always shut down any proposition, any attempt to pair him with someone, but you're convinced this unexpected pick will be the perfect choice.
You even feel a jolt of excitement at the prospect of seeing a glint of appreciation in his blue eyes when you point her to him.
However, what you don't take into consideration is that he already made a choice.
Summary: A ruthless lawyer loses her promotion to nepotism, causes a fatal “accident,” and draws the attention of Lloyd Hansen—the fixer who knows her secret and won’t let her forget it.
Character: Lloyd Hansen x female!lawyer
Main Masterlist || 2nd Masterlist
If you enjoyed this, please leave a like, comment, or reblog — it really means a lot. Thank you for reading.
“Oh God, this isn’t happening.” You gripped your hair, pacing back and forth across the living room. “This isn’t real.”
Robert’s body lay where it fell, unmoving, too still. The air felt too thick to breathe. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you stopped, staring at the blood slowly spreading across the rug.
“There’s a dead man in my living room,” you said, the words trembling out of you like a confession.
Lloyd stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching you with mild amusement. “To be fair,” he said casually, “in New York, someone’s probably died in every apartment at least once.”
You whipped around, glaring. “That’s not helpful!” What the hell was wrong with him—giving statistics like you were discussing real estate instead of murder.
“Good thing you called me,” he said, voice calm as ever.
“And I regret it every second.”
He gave a quiet scoff, taking a slow step closer. “Really? What would you have done instead? Call an ambulance? Take him to the hospital? When he woke up, he’d sue you into the ground. The man already suspected you of killing his son. Add assault, and you’d be finished.”
You exhaled sharply. “Gosh. Why didn’t I think of that?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.
Lloyd tilted his head. “Is this how you show gratitude?”
“What kind of help are you even talking about?” you snapped. “You don’t help, Lloyd. You manipulate. You make people depend on you—because that’s what keeps you in control.”
His smirk faded just slightly. He moved closer again, his shadow falling over yours. You could smell the faint trace of his cologne—clean, sharp, like metal and danger.
“Besides,” you said quietly, your voice like a blade, “I never killed anyone. James fell on his own, and Robert…” you paused, meeting his gaze, “Robert’s neck broke when you finished the job.” You stepped closer. “And I have CCTV that caught you doing it.”
Lloyd’s brow lifted. He glanced toward the bookshelf, where a small camera lens blinked red in standby mode. For a second, the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “That’s clever,” he said softly. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Oh, I do.” You folded your arms, staring him down. “I know exactly what you are, Lloyd. You’re a lunatic. A sociopath who thinks every life is just a piece in his little game.” You took one step closer, voice dropping low. “But here’s the thing—you’ll never see me kneel. I don’t beg. And I don’t break.”
Something flickered in his eyes—interest, maybe even admiration. A chill ran down your spine when he smiled.
“I always knew you had it in you,” he murmured.
“What?” you asked warily.
“Bloodthirst,” he said. “Just like me.”
“Don’t put me in the same category as you.”
He chuckled, backing away, hands raised as if to surrender. “I never said you were,” he said, his tone lazy and deliberate. “You’re above me.”
You exhaled, not sure whether to feel threatened or flattered.
Lloyd looked down at Robert’s body, then back at you. “I’ll take care of this,” he said simply.
You didn’t answer, but your thoughts were a whirlwind—relief, fear, disbelief. Every time Lloyd stepped into your life, something died.
“Just be ready for what comes next,” he added.
You frowned. “What else could there be? There are already two dead men tied to me.”
He smiled faintly, adjusting his cufflinks. “The police,” he said.
“Ah. Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, rubbing your forehead.
Lloyd chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m very good with clean-ups.”
****
You arrived at the firm late the next morning. Your eyes burned from lack of sleep, and every muscle in your body ached from tension that hadn’t left since last night. You’d watched Lloyd and his men move through your house with silent precision—black gloves, quiet steps, the kind of efficiency that didn’t come from training but from repetition.
They slid Robert Holt’s body into a black bag like it was nothing more than furniture being packed away. You didn’t speak. You just stood there, frozen, watching the life you used to know vanish one crime scene at a time. When they finished, Lloyd turned to you with that unnervingly calm smile.
“I’ll always do a perfect job,” he’d said before leaving.
You hadn’t replied. There wasn’t anything left to say.
Now, walking into the office, it almost felt absurd—people chatting, phones ringing, the faint buzz of productivity filling the air. No one could tell that your world was burning behind your eyes. You straightened your blazer, lifted your chin, and pretended you still belonged in this place.
Your assistant looked up as soon as you stepped in. Without a word, she handed you a cup of hot Americano—extra strong, just how you liked it. You murmured a quiet “thanks” and shut the office door behind you. The first sip hit your tongue like burnt bitterness. Not even caffeine could scrape away the exhaustion sitting heavy in your chest.
You forced yourself to focus. Case files, client calls, paperwork—it was the only way to drown out the memory of last night’s silence, the dull zip of a body bag sealing shut. Time blurred until it was well past lunch.
You were halfway through drafting a statement for a client when your secretary appeared in the doorway, voice slightly uneasy. “They’re asking everyone to gather in the main hall,” she said. “Mr. Grayson’s going to make an announcement.”
Your pulse quickened. You nodded, smoothing your jacket to hide how your hands were shaking. “I’ll be right there.”
The conference hall was already full when you arrived—partners, associates, interns—everyone standing in uneasy clusters. You felt the stares, the tension that always came before bad news. Grayson stood at the podium, his expression grim. Even his usually steady hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his glasses.
When the room fell silent, he cleared his throat. “This morning,” he began, voice heavy, “we received tragic news. Robert Holt passed away. He… fell, and broke his neck.”
The words struck like thunder. Gasps echoed across the hall. Some people covered their mouths. Others whispered in disbelief. The air shifted—panic, shock, grief blending into one awful silence.
You let out a small, controlled gasp of your own, playing your part perfectly. Wide eyes, trembling breath, the performance of surprise. But inside, your heart hammered against your ribs, beating out the truth you could never say aloud.
He fell.
That wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.
*****
Going home didn’t bring peace—just more questions clawing at your chest. Every light, every passing car made your nerves twitch. Should you run? Change your name? Disappear into another country and start over somewhere no one knew your face? The idea sat in your mind like a loaded gun—tempting, but heavy.
By the time you reached your street, your thoughts scattered when you saw him. Lloyd Hansen, leaning casually against your front door as if he owned it. The porch light cut sharp lines across his face, the same face that hadn’t flinched while cleaning up a corpse.
You stopped at the bottom of the steps and exhaled hard. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled faintly, head tilted. “Wow. No ‘thank you’? No ‘good job, Lloyd, for making Robert’s cause of death convincing’?”
Your eyes widened. You moved fast, slapping your hand over his mouth. “Are you crazy? Don’t talk about that here!” you hissed, glancing toward the neighbors’ windows. “We’re still outside!”
He just laughed against your palm, unbothered. When you pulled your hand away, he said, “Nobody cares. People only notice blood when it’s on their own doorstep.”
You groaned, half from exhaustion, half from irritation. “What do you want?”
He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Usually? Money. But for you…” He paused, watching your face. “I just want one thing.”
You crossed your arms. “And what would that be?”
“Dinner,” he said simply.
You stared at him. “Dinner? That’s it?”
A smirk crept across his face, slow and deliberate. “It’s not just dinner if it’s with you.”
A chill went through you—half discomfort, half something you refused to name. His tone made your skin prickle, the way he said it too casual to be harmless.
You sighed, needing to shut him up. “Fine. Dinner.”
His smirk deepened. “Goodnight, Miss Lawyer,” he said softly. “You can have a sweet dream tonight.”
Then he turned and walked away, his coat brushing lightly in the night wind, every step unhurried—like he hadn’t just killed someone two nights ago.
You watched him disappear into the dark, then looked at your own front door. The same door they’d carried Robert’s body through. The same house that still smelled faintly of bleach and metal.
You pressed your hand to your temple and exhaled shakily. “Is this karma,” you muttered, “for defending bad people all these years?”
You never believed in ghosts. You’d stood beside monsters in courtrooms, defended killers, lied to judges—you didn’t scare easily. But now? Now you couldn’t even look at your own living room.
******
You woke up with heavy eyes, the sunlight cutting sharp lines through the curtains. Sleep had barely touched you. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the same thing—Lloyd’s calm expression, Robert’s lifeless body, the sound of the zipper sealing the bag. You wanted to stay in bed forever, buried under the blanket where the world couldn’t reach you. But you couldn’t. Routine was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.
So you got up. Shower. Suit. Coffee. Mask. The same motions as always, just slower. You drove to the office in silence, the city rushing past like a blur you didn’t belong to.
When you arrived, the atmosphere was heavier than the gray sky outside. Conversations died when you walked by, whispers trailing after you like shadows.
“Is this their punishment for stealing someone’s credit?” someone murmured near the breakroom.
“Like father, like son,” another whispered.
You didn’t look at them. You just walked past, pretending not to hear. The gossip didn’t surprise you—Grayson & Holt thrived on scandal as long as it didn’t reach the headlines. But now the firm felt like it was rotting from the inside out.
When you reached your office, you froze.
Old man Grayson was already there, standing near your desk, his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was straight, his expression unreadable.
“Sir,” you greeted, trying to sound steady.
He nodded slightly. “It’s already a chaotic situation right now.”
“Yes,” you said quietly.
He studied you for a moment, eyes sharp behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “The partnership,” he said. “It’s you.”
You blinked. “Me?”
Grayson gave a single, firm nod. “Effective immediately. You’ll also take over Holt’s clients moving forward.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. You swallowed, trying to process it. “Of course,” you managed. “But it’ll be overwhelming at first. I’ll need more assistance to adjust.”
“That will be arranged,” Grayson said. “Right now, what matters is that we show the world this firm still stands—strong, even without Robert.”
“Yes,” you said again, nodding quickly. “Yes, sir.”
He turned toward the door, paused for a moment, then added, “Good. I’m counting on you.”
When he left, the room felt suddenly too big, too quiet. You stood behind your desk, staring at nothing, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.
You were partner. Finally.
The title you’d fought for, bled for, was yours at last—and it came wrapped in death and silence.
You sat down slowly, running your fingers over the polished surface of your desk. The reality of it felt distant, almost cruel. You had everything you wanted. And yet, the air felt heavier than ever.
Was this victory? Or the start of something worse?
*****
After lunch, your secretary knocked softly on your office door. You barely looked up from the documents in front of you.
“Yes?”
She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “There’s… a detective here to see you.”
Your hand froze mid-page. For a moment, the air in the room stopped moving.
A detective.
Your heart jumped into your throat, thudding against your ribs. What are they doing here? Did they figure it out? Did they know it was me?
You straightened your posture, forced your voice to stay steady. “Let them in,” you said evenly. You’d dealt with the police before—corrupt clients, court cases, public scandals. You just had to act like this was another normal day.
The door opened. A man stepped in—tall, blond, dressed in the kind of plain suit that spoke more of practicality than style. He had that alert stillness that screamed cop.
“Excuse me for taking your time, Miss L/N,” he said, voice low and even. “I’m Detective Courtland Gentry.”
You nodded, gesturing toward the chair across from your desk. “Please, sit down, Detective. How may I help you?”
He sat, taking out a small notebook and pen. “I’m here because of Robert Holt.”
Your stomach dropped. The words echoed in your head like a gavel striking. This is it. They know. You’re going to get caught.
You swallowed hard and tried to keep your tone steady. “Yes. Very sad about him. He was a valuable partner in this firm—everyone looked up to him.”
Gentry’s pen scratched against the paper. “Valuable,” he repeated, glancing at you. “That means you were close to him?”
You forced a polite smile. “Not exactly. He was a senior here. He brought in a lot of clients and handled the firm’s public relations.”
He nodded. “The famous Grayson & Holt International Law, right?”
“Yes,” you said. “He’s part of the reason this firm’s so well known.”
Gentry smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I heard you’re pretty well known yourself. And that you’ve just become a partner?”
You blinked. “I actually just found out this morning.”
“Congratulations,” he said, still watching you carefully. “So that means you sometimes attended events or parties with Robert Holt?”
You shook your head. “No. I haven’t attended any firm parties in the last seven years. I prefer to work, not socialize.”
“Really?”
“Yeah…” You exhaled slowly. “Detective, I’m sorry, but what exactly is this about?” You couldn’t take the suspense anymore.
Gentry leaned back slightly, flipping through his notes. “Robert Holt was found dead early this morning. His housekeeper discovered him in the bathroom—he slipped, hit the marble counter, and suffered a cervical fracture.”
Your hand flew to your mouth. “Oh my God.”
He continued, his tone measured. “While we were going through his personal effects, we found something… unexpected.”
You frowned. “Unexpected?”
“Let’s just say,” Gentry said carefully, “we found several illegal videos involving minors. Things that should never exist.”
You gasped, genuine disgust twisting in your stomach. “That’s… that’s revolting!”
The detective watched you quietly, studying your face. “Seeing you react like this—it seems you didn’t know anything about it.”
“No,” you said quickly. “He always acted normal. Strict, arrogant, but… not that.” You shook your head, trying to suppress the nausea rising in your throat. “Now I don't feel bad his dead."
The words slipped out before you could stop them. You froze, realizing what you’d just said—to a detective, no less.
But Gentry only gave a small nod. “As a detective, I have to stay neutral,” he said slowly. “But as a human being, I can’t say I disagree, Miss L/N.”
“Please,” you said, forcing a faint smile. “Call me Y/N.”
That earned a real smile from him—one that reached his eyes this time. He stood, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a business card. “If you need anything—information about Robert, or if one of your clients has something valuable to the investigation—just call me.”
You took the card carefully. “You know I have to maintain client confidentiality. That’s why people come to this firm.”
He nodded. “Of course. But just in case… or if you want to grab a coffee sometime.”
You blinked, momentarily speechless as he turned and walked out, leaving the faint scent of cologne and confusion behind him.
You stared at the door long after it closed. What the hell just happened? The police didn’t suspect you at all—and somehow, the detective had just… asked you out?
Your stomach twisted. “Ugh.” You pressed a hand to your mouth, the thought of Robert’s secret files making you sick.
You grabbed your phone, hesitated for a second, then dialed. When the line clicked, your voice came out low, steady, and tired.
“Are you busy tonight?”
******
The restaurant was the kind that made you feel rich just for breathing the air—crystal chandeliers scattering light across white tablecloths, a pianist in the corner coaxing something slow and bittersweet from the keys. Waiters moved like choreography, and everyone around you wore the kind of quiet confidence that cost more than a month’s rent.
You and Lloyd sat at a table near the window. He lifted his glass with one graceful hand, the wine catching fire in the low light. He sipped, eyes on you.
“Didn’t expect you’d ask so soon,” he said, voice casual.
“I have to repay you for the hard work,” you answered, cutting into your steak without looking needy about it.
He leaned forward a fraction. “Be honest. What happened?”
You chewed, then swallowed, and took a deliberate sip of wine. The tannin burned pleasantly at the back of your throat, and for a second the world narrowed to the clink of cutlery and the bassline from the piano.
“A detective came to my office this afternoon,” you said finally.
Lloyd’s eyebrow tilted. He raised his glass. “Seems like you’re out of suspect, since you’re here with me tonight. You’re welcome.” He tapped your rim with his and you gave a dry smile as you clinked.
“It turns out Robert collected disgusting videos,” you said. The word made a small sound in your chest—anger, revulsion, a strange, cold relief.
“Ooh, that,” Lloyd murmured, eyes half-closed like the knowledge was a bitter perfume.
“You knew about it? Did you plant it?” you asked.
“No,” he said smoothly. “It was already there. I just made sure the police saw it.”
Your fork paused halfway to your mouth. “Wait. All this time you knew?”
“Privacy doesn’t exist anymore,” he replied, almost bored.
You shook your head, letting a small, unforgiving smile form. “Now I’m glad he’s dead.”
Lloyd’s smirk sharpened. “Careful. I can see the enjoyment.” His voice was teasing, but something under the tease was observant, predatory.
You watched him over the rim of your glass. He had that infuriating habit of looking at you like a puzzle he’d almost solved. Your pulse thudded in a place you didn’t like to admit to yourself.
“James and Robert are gone,” he said softly. “Both of them deserved it.”
“What about James? What did he do?” you asked, more curious than you wanted to be.
Lloyd toyed with his napkin, amused. “If you want the dirt, you owe me a 2nd dinner.”
“Fine,” you muttered, because bargaining was a habit that translated into everything.
When the waiter brought the dessert, Lloyd leaned back and began, “James abused women he dated. He drove drunk and killed someone in his car. Entitled prick, really.”
You let the words sit between you; they had a weight you didn’t resent. “Geez.”
Lloyd’s expression softened for a moment and then hardened into something like rationality. “I kill people because it’s my job. But you—your victims die because they deserve to. You’re a different kind of predator. A vigilante in a suit.”
“Me?” you scoffed, swirling your wine slowly. The sound was small and careful. “I defend criminals for a living.” You watched the liquid move, thinking. “That’s ironic.”
A dark thought slipped out before you could stop it. “Which also means I could kill you.”
Lloyd’s reaction was immediate; his smirk grew, intrigued rather than offended. He tapped a finger to his chest and grinned. “I’ll let you shoot me through the heart,” he said lightly, as if he were talking about ordering a second glass.
He was dangerous, and you knew it—every joke a test, every smile a knife. The air between you prickled with something that wasn’t quite desire and wasn’t quite threat. You pushed it away with a breath.
“I really hope this is the last time,” you said, the line between plea and command thin.
“Oh, my dear sunshine,” he said, voice cool and intimate, the words sliding out like silk. “Why do I feel like whatever you say will end up being the opposite?”
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******
My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing are on Kindle.
Check it out!
Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband
Amazon.com
Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go
Amazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store
As a kid, you and your best friend make a cute promise to marry each other when you're adults. It's sweet, not fully understood by either of you.
Unfortunately, his family moves to the big city and you lose contact.
Life goes on. You have your high-school sweetheart, then a few college romances. Two longer relationships after you move to the city that fall apart. Then at work you meet Nate and it grows into a steady engagement.
The year before the wedding is a bit chaotic, lots of strain and small conflicts between you two. Some of those regard Nate's penchant for gambling, but thankfully he gets his head back on and pays off the potentially dangerous men who loaned him money.
Pity it meant you had to cut some things from your dream wedding.
Honestly, you kind off just want to get over with this thing and enter the next stage of your life.
On the day of the wedding rehearsal, the preparations are suddenly interrupted as a bunch of dangerous looking men with guns fill the place.
Then another man walks in.
A silhouette that cuts through the space like a heavy blade that's stunning in its ornamental bladesmith craft.
He strides. Confidently and with lethal purpose.
There's something about him that feels vaguely familiar, but your brain can't put the pieces together as your heart pounds in fear.
Your first thought is "What the fuck did Nate do this time?!"
It scrambles as a pair of cold blue eyes settles on you, not on your fiancé. So familiar, as if they haunted you in your dreams.
But they couldn't be. No, if you had dreams about this man they'd be inappropriate. Dark, sticky, branding.
Yet it seems you're the one to blame for the threat of bloodshed as the man says your name. He says it like he knows you - and he does, even if you don't yet realize it's the boy you promised your hand to first.
He says your name like he has all the rights to you.
Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that you'll never be entrusted with. But your boy only breaks his favorite toy.
a.n. - day 3!!! i hope you guys are enjoying! anyway, how many tortured poets inspired fics do you guys think i have in the drafts? hint, too many.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Anon's Birthday Celebration
"Then maybe you're better off without me!"
No, you're not.
You're not.
You're not.
You fly up from the edge of your bed, doing everything to get him to see reason, to get him to see you, for once, "I never said that!"
"You didn't have to!" he booms.
Your hand reaches out to grip his bicep, but he wrenches his arm away.
And standing in your highest heels, in your best dress just for him, you chase after him, "I just want you to talk to me! I want you to not push me away!"
He snatches his tux jacket up, shrugging it over his shoulders, "I don't want to talk!"
"You don't want to talk or you don't want to talk to me?"
"Both!" The words are so casually cruel. He says it without pause, without remorse. He doesn't even notice the pained look that his words leave on your face like all the wind has left your lungs.
Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing as she hears the argument echo through the walls of the Compound. "Oh, here we go again..."
The moment he whips open your door, you know what this night will look like.
You'll be his perfect doll, his trophy for the night. He'll smile, hold your hand, and won't speak more than a word to you the whole night.
He'll leave you wondering what went wrong, what you did wrong, what sent him spiraling into the abyss all over again.
And he'll wake up tomorrow like nothing ever went wrong.
"Steve!" You reach for his hand, but he drops your hand and keeps walking without so much as a second glance. "Steve!"
"Steve!"
He doesn't turn back around.
As you watch him walk downstairs, you feel a warm hand rest on your shoulder. "You okay?"
You nod, trying to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling down your cheeks. "He's just - in one of his moods, I guess."
"A mood?" Nat quirks an eyebrow. "That's the excuse?"
You suck in a breath. It's a shitty excuse. And it only sound worse with every time that you have to use it.
You sound like a broken record, a broken toy. You practically beg Natasha to pull the string for the latest excuse. "You know how he gets."
He only runs because he loves you...
"It's ironic that he always does this right before you've got to put on your best face in public."
You let out a long, deep sigh, "Nat..."
She raises her hands in surrender, "I'm just saying. You look amazing tonight, but tears don't go with the dress."
The urge to defend him bubbles within you.
It doesn't matter how much he breaks you, it's you he chooses to break.
You're his favorite toy.
He only runs because he loves you...
After a few moments to make sure the rivulets don't descend on your plastic smile, you go after him.
You find him seated in the car, sitting in the backseat like he knew you would give in and eventually follow after him.
It's all painfully silent. He stares out the car window, drowning in a darkness that you'll never get to see. You sit with your hands in your lap, the smooth silk of your dress crumpling under your fingers.
You hated nights like these. These galas were never fun for you. Still, you don't remember it being quite this hard.
As you step out in front of the flashing lights, Steve grips your waist, just enough to lay claim to you.
Because, in the end, you're still his favorite toy.
You roll back your shoulders. Your cherry lips pulled into a smile that you can only hope looks more genuine than it feels.
You can barely recall a time when your shining smile didn't feel so plastic. You were an Avenger. You were strong, independent. You stood tall and held your own. You were beloved in your own right - or at least, you used to be. Now, you were nothing more than the girlfriend to Captain America. Nothing more than his favorite toy.
You stand beside him in the line of reporters.
He refers to you often. He barely spares you a glance.
He presses loving kisses to the top of your head. He doesn't offer a single comforting word.
You've spent all night watching and waiting for the worst of his tortured heart to hit that you've barely noticed the night passing you by.
The reporter before you politely points the microphone at you. She smiles, tilting her head, "So what's it like?"
You blink at her, realizing that you've hardly been paying attention. You fix your distant smile with a chuckle, "What's what like?"
"What it like being the woman behind the man? Being the woman behind America's Golden Boy?"
"Oh..."
What is it like?
What's it like being queen of sandcastles that he destroys?
What it's like being his favorite toy?
The one he holds so tenderly, caresses with the most gentle of touches, only to be discarded and broken as he pleases?
You crack a smile, pretending to be coy. He hates it when you talk about him, about your relationship. He says he likes his privacy. He likes for it to be seen, not heard. But you think he means you.
You find yourself pulling the string, reminding yourself that he loves you. He only runs because he loves you.
You rest your hand on his chest, looking at him with all the adoration in the world, "I mean, he's - he's Captain America. What else it there to say? Like you said, he's America's Golden Boy."
You swear you can feel something break inside you. He's finally done it. His favorite toy is finally all smashed up.
You feel broken.
His favorite toy.
His broken toy.
He doesn't stay for the party, never does. It's a blur as he guides you back to the car with a hand on your hip.
The silence fills the car once again.
It's all silent as he calls the rain to end your days of wild once more. Back at the Compound. In your room. Watching as he stands before you. He means what he says, he doesn't want to talk, and he most certainly doesn't want to talk to you.
As you sit on the bed, watching as he methodically takes off each piece of his tux, he offers his first voluntary word of the night, "That camera guy was hitting on you."
A pang of joy flashes through your broken heart.
After all, your boy only breaks his favorite toy. You are his favorite toy. You always will be.
"I didn't notice. I was too busy worrying about you."
He rolls his eyes, "I told you to leave it alone."
And out of all the hearts he was offered, it was your tortured heart he stole. And one thing about Steve Rogers, he plays for keeps.
Your eyes snap up at him, examining those blue eyes that you feel in love with. "Why won't you ever just let me in?"
He refuses to hold your gaze, too afraid of what you might see. If he sees forever in your eyes, he'll smash it up.
The voices in his head are so much louder than you. And worst of all, you have no idea how to fight them off. The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that he'll never trust you with.
You know that. And in some ways, you've always known that. It's a give and take, a push and pull. And as long as he keep pushing, keeps taking, you'll pull him as close as you can, you'll hold him through any storm. What other choice did you have?
For the second time tonight, you pull the string yourself. He only runs because he loves you.
"You're better off anyway," he whispers.
But you're not.
You're not.
You're not...
Steve Rogers Masterlist
Anon's Birthday Celebration
Inspired by Taylor Swift Series
Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.
~
Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.
As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.
You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.
It would’ve been a mark of love.
Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.
Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.
A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.
It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.
You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.
With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.
“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”
The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.
“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.
“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”
You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”
You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.
“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”
At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.
“Are you excited? One year older…”
While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.
How funny that he had met his end before you.
“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.
That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.
There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.
It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.
This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.
There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.
“We’re almost late because of you.”
Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.
“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”
You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.
“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.
At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.
“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.
It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.
“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”
You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.
“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.
You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.
“You’re behaving like a child.”
“I haven’t-.”
“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”
Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.
“I’m not,” you forced out.
Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.
“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”
He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.
“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”
You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.
“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”
The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.
“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”
They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.
You were just the first to last this long.
Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.
You felt like you were in hell.
…and the devil himself was fast approaching.
The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.
“Y/N, you remember Jane.”
Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.
“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.
“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.
She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.
“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.
Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.
“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.
You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.
“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”
Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.
“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.
Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.
“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”
She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.
“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”
The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.
“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”
She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.
“…what?”
It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.
“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”
The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.
“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”
You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.
“Steve is quite taken with you.”
That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.
“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.
“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.
Deep down, you hoped that it was less.
Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.
“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”
You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.
“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”
Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.
“For now.”
Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.
“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…
That you understood.
You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?
Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.
There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.
No.
Absolutely not.
You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?
Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.
There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?
You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.
“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”
Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.
You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.
You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.
“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”
“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”
Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.
“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”
Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.
“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.
You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.
“Had you eaten?”
“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”
You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.
“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.
There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.
“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”
“Well…I’m not, so…”
“You scared me.”
“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”
The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.
“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.
“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”
You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.
“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”
You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.
You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.
…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…
You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.
Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.
The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.
Today, however…
Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.
You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.
Nothing about this day was actually for you.
Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.
You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.
It made you sick.
“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”
“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.
She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.
“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”
The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.
“So young…so terrified…”
She hummed, continuing with her work.
You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.
An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.
When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.
“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”
Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.
Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.
Natasha was right, of course.
Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.
“Thank you, Steve.”
He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.
He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.
You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…
With Peter not around to soften the blow…
When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.
“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”
You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.
“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”
“Didn’t it stop me already?”
You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.
“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”
You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.
My love?
You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.
“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”
You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.
The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.
This was a necklace bought with intention.
You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.
You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.
“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”
You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.
“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”
“Steve…”
“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”
Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.
"I hope next time you'll know how to behave." To find the light we first must touch the darkness
Touch The Darkness
dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader
warnings: dark!Steve Rogers; forced relationship; depraved wicked things really; public indecency; knife play; mild violence (not against Reader);
Gaze fixed on the ceiling, chasing the stroboscope reflections of the club's lights, you tried your best to wipe the image of the man kneeling on the other side of a small table in the VIP lounge.
You tried not to think of how he blanched when Steve ordered him to stretch out his hand on the tabletop, nor how Bucky gripped the man's wrist and held it down pinned to the surface.
Lights and deep bass of music alone wouldn't effectively take your attention of the fearful picture that was painted right before you, but Steve's hands on your body did.
He had you sprawled on his lap, your back to his chest, while he curled ring-adorned fingers of his left hand around the front of your throat.
You tilted your head back obediently, resting it against Steve's shoulder. Your hands curled into fists on your thighs, sparkly fabric of your sequined dress bunching in your grip, as you felt the tip of a blade tease down your chest.
Steve dipped it in the valley of your breasts, lightly scratching the roundness. He rubbed the flat side of the blade over your covered nipple, which instantly stiffened at the debauched stimulation.
You didn't want to think of the others watching the scene; of that man, one of Steve's new goons, on his knees directly in front of you.
You also didn't want to be turned on by any of this, but as Steve moved the knife between your thighs it was already too late to deny it.
He flicked his wrist, pushing the ornamental handle of the knife under your dress and over your mound. Your back arched, a needy hiss escaping your lips when he pressed the butt of it against your clit.
"Are you wet, Princess?" Steve's voice was a darkly decadent seduction.
"Yes," you murmured, having learned a while ago that he always made you admit the truth and it was better to do it right away than challenge him into proving it in most depraved ways.
"Who are you wet for?" He asked, rubbing your clit in steady motions.
"You, you bastard," his low laugh at your hiss only made you wetter.
Steve licked a stripe up your throat then sucked on your earlobe. your nipples hardened, your hips bucking against the pressure between your thighs.
Then he slipped the knife's handle beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, coating it in your slick.
You couldn't help the moan that bubbled out of your lips, feeling a scorching wave of shame wash over you.
Suddenly, Steve withdrew the knife and his body moved; and yours along with him.
He bent forward, your head lolling down and eyes opening to watch in terror (and arousal) how he imbedded the blade in the man's splayed hand.
Blood spilled and the goon grunted in pain (not screaming, to his honor and appreciation of the others present), but he didn't dare to jerk away, or curse Steve.
"She's wet only for me," Steve tone was a shard of ice, sharper than that knife. "She's needy only for me. She's to be touched only by me. You don't ever get to even imagine coming close to her. Am I fucking clear?"
The man nodded, gritting out a painful Yes Sir.
"I hope next time you'll know how to behave," Steve spat, "or I'll drive that knife into your skull."
The man hasn't touched you with a single finger, didn't attempt to grab, but his stupid remark on how women got wet for any bad boy was paired with a glance your way. Which was enough for Steve to react.
You don't think it was to defend you; definitely not to defend women in general. It was about comparing Steve's level of power to a pathetic bad boy.
And maybe about the very faint suggestion that anyone beside Steve could turn you into a pathetic, dripping mess.
No one could. Even you knew it by now.
It wasn't about the guns, or the knives, or ropes, or being choked. It was about it coming from Steve. It was the extension of his power, not the implements themselves.
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — living next door to Steve seemed like a blessing, he was helpful and kind, always the golden boy...until you couldn't help having sinful dreams about him, going crazy for even a fraction of his voice, dreaming of him in filthy ways...you had to stop, after all you were starting to look crazy...right?
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — smut, obviously. mastrubation, fingering, dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, steve fucking someone else to rile you up
𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — do you know how hard it was to find the right pictures and it still doesn't look right? Anyways, week five yall! Not proof read so please excuse this thing. Reblogs/comments are always appreciated! Follow @sstanhoe-updates to get a notification every time I post a new fic!
SPOOKY WEEKS MASTERLIST
You groaned as you lifted your grocery bag, two weeks of vacation left a hole in your fridge. Not only was it expensive but also heavy, especially with a broken elevator. Furthermore, you were scared that stupid paper bag would rip apart.
And it did, but thankfully, only the handles, which meant less damage. Still, you had to pick up the fruits, yoghurts, and noodles. "Wait, let me help you!" A gentle voice sounded through the hallway, lifting your head. You noticed a tall, blonde man with perfect jaw and dreamy eyes walking towards you. He didn't look much older than you, dressed appropriately and being a gentleman.
"Thanks," you mumbled as he helped you put everything back in. "I'm Steve Rogers, by the way," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. You told him your name and shook his hand with a smile. "You're my neighbour, I'm in the apartment next to you. Just moved in," he explained in excitement.
"Wow, that thing has been empty for ages, didn't think anyone would be able to live in it," you told him honestly to which he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "yeah...have to do some renovations which I was promised, would be done when I move in." Oh, you felt that. The landlord wasn't the best and especially not one to keep his word.
"Sorry to hear that, I've had my fair share of arguments with that guy too," you chuckled, finally having all the groceries back where they belonged.
Steve couldn't look away from you. He admired the way your eyes matched your hair and the little dimples showing when you smiled. Your clothes hugged your body perfectly. He just wanted to worship every inch of it. He noticed how perfect your features were. You seemed kind and loving...exactly the type of woman he was searching for to carry on his legacy.
Witches we're always picky, moody, and obsessed with finding good specimen to keep their line, most of all their powers safe. It annoyed him. They never made things easy and most of all couldn't be persuaded by magic. Unlike humans, unlike you.
While you had kept talking, saying something about the apartments or residents – he wasn't quite sure – Steve had already made up his mind. "Shit! I should've been logged into work fifteen minutes ago," you scrambled your things together and quickly waved him goodbye, "see you, neighbour, " you called out and ran to your apartment.
Steve walked to his and immediately fished his book from the depths of his boxes. Lightinc candles in a specific order and shape, he sat down in the middle of it. He closed his eyes, imagining how his life would be with you, how crazy you were for him and how insane you would go without seeing, how strongly you felt and thought of him as yours.
With a sudden wind blow all candles lost their fire, the warlock smirked. His deed was done and he would go about his day, toying with you until you couldn't take it anymore.
On the other side of the wall, you sat in your chair, laptop in front of you as a tingly feeling creeper up your neck. You shuddered, wrapping your blanket tighter around you. Eyes scanning the room for an open window, but everything was closed, then your eyes felt heavy – from what, though? You were wide awake just minutes ago.
You tried focusing on your laptop, trying hard to get everything done on your list. Emails, wishes from clients, and presentations, but you didn't make it past your first email as your head hit the table and everything went black.
————
You didn't see Steve for a few days after his first appearance. It did disappoint you a little after all you wanted to know more about him. Sweeping the thought of your head, you pushed the key into the lock and opened the door. While trying to balance some shopping bags, you closed the door with your foot, the action making the door slam shut loudly.
Flinching, you turned around and the door? It was almost hanging of its hinges. Gaping at it, you groaned, putting the bags aside. Who should help you now? Pursing your lips, you thought for a moment, then the decision was made pretty quickly.
Slowly and carefully, you opened the door, padding to his door. You knocked, hoping he'd be home, and fortunately, he was. Steve opened the door with a towel around his waist, causing you to lose your speech for a moment. You just started at one another until he broke the silence, "hey." It was only one word.
"Hi, hey, I – no, my door it's broken...would you be able to fix it?" you asked, why did you have to embarrass yourself in front of him? He smiled reassuringly and nodded, "'course, anything for you doll."
Heat creeped up your neck at the nickname. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "thank you so much! Come, I'll show you were," you smiled. Steve obviously knew the way to your apartment, it was right next to him, but he found it extremely adorable how you stumbled over your own words.
The door was an easy fix, just a few screws being too loose. Nothing a screwdriver couldn't fix. "There you go," he breathed, securing it a little more. Your jaw would've fallen to the floor at his efficiency. You thought he'd be busy for longer, "that's it?" you asked, gaping at him. "Mhm, yes, doll, or would you like me to spend a little more time on it so you can watch?" he smirked, leaning down a little further.
————
You stood at your window, brain focusing on only one thing – no, man. Steve Rogers, standing in front of his car in jeans and no shirt. The sun shone on his golden muscles that he was for sure flexing on purpose.
Yet you couldn't look away, his smile showing the pearly white teeth as he laughed at something the neighbour said. They walked away, and Steve turned his water hose back on, but it didn't function right and completely drenched him. Your jaw slacked open, water drops fell from his blond hair on his chest.
His trousers looked a lot tighter than before and you were able to see the outlines of his cock. God he was thick. You clenched your thighs together, lips pressing on each other to try and contain the aching feeling but it didn't help.
Steve had already noticed you, of course he had. You weren't exactly subtle and the hose just improved his luck. From the corner of his eye he knew you were struggling, wanting to smooth that ache in your core. While he wished he could help you, this one you would have to take on yourself.
He took a wet rag, leaning over the bonnet of his car, and wiped it. In the process, he pushes his behind out, straight towards your window. Your mind was clouded with dirty thoughts, everything you wished you could do to him. For a moment, you zoned out, eyes only locked on his arse...it was perfect, and you couldn't wait to grab it while he was pumping you full.
You couldn't take it anymore. You walked to your drawer and reached for your vibrator. It would bring you release. With you back against the comfy cushions, you slid your panties down to your ankles.
Pillow propped up for your head and vibrator in hand you slowly began drawing circles on your clit. Steve flooded your mind, his colossal hands stroking over every part of your skin. How he would kneel in front of you, head between your thighs and looking at you through his lashes with those blue eyes.
You turned the vibrator on, hovering for a moment as you imagined how he would dip his rough fingers into your hungry pussy. A soft whine slipped from your lips the moment you pressed the vibrator down. You bucked your hips slighy up to create fraction while rubbing your satisfyer harshly.
"Steve, please," you whispered, eyes pinched shut as he curled his fingers inside you and hitting that sensitive spot. A part of you wanted to drag out the orgasm, relish in the blissful feeling but your need was stronger. Toes curling, fist clenching and body pressing into the bed.
You were breathing heavily, orgasm cursing through your veins and a tickling stomach. Sometimes you wished you could always feel this way and more often than not you wanted for Steve to make you feel this way.
————
Night fell over your apartment, dim lights wrapping you in a cozy glow. You were cleaning your kitchen, humming to the music in the background. Steve's car wash session was a few days old by now, since then you hadn't seen him – at least not eye to eye. It was probably for the better as you didn't know how to act around him.
As you put the last plate inside the dishwasher a loud bang could be heard against your wall. Your first thought was something falling from your shelfs but that wall was connected to Steve's.
You looked around, turning off your music box and stepped closer to the wall. The next sound was loud moan from a woman. Your eyes went wide, Steve had a guest and that guest was being fucked by him. She was chanting his name, and he? You could hear his heavy breathing, his groans as he probably sunk deep into her cunt.
Jealousy filled you blood, it should be you. Steve should fuck you dumb and cause the bed to shake, walls to crack but he wasn't. No, he was with another woman.
You weren't one to complain about noises, but this was the tip of the iceberg. With a glare you marched towards Steve's door which was right next to yours. Though you came to a halt when you noticed his door cracked open. Only a shimmer of light elevated from his apartment, slowly you stepped forward and looked through the split.
You couldn't look straight into his bedroom, but yet again you could hear him. "Mhm, just a filthy girl...touching yourself while my cock is buried in your tight pussy?" his deep voice sounded through.
Instinctively you clenched your thighs together, biting your lower lip as you carefully took a step backwards. You didn't know if you were jealous or turned on. The woman moaned loudly and the bed screeched, you wished you could at least see Steve. Knowing how his chest looked you could only imagine how perfect the rest was.
A sudden urge to step inside boiled in you, then without thinking you did. The floor creaked under your weight and you wanted to slap yourself, these apartments were old – you should've known better, even you had that issue.
You also had another issue, Steve stilled and his guest was babbling nonsense, "Stevie why...please, please–." He hushed her, pressing a hand on her mouth. Quickly you turned around and sprinted to your door, but before you could open it Steve was cocking his head out, eyes meeting yours.
He had a towel hanging low in his hips, "hey?" he questioned with a raised brow. "Hey there...," you muttered, trying to smile, "how's life huh? Hard– I mean difficult or easy whatever, shit," you stumbled over your own words which made Steve smirk. Before embarrassing yourself any further you were able to open your door and finally breath.
Steve on the other hand smirked, he knew you were listening, knew it was you outside after all it was his goal. He felt slightly bad for the woman laying in his bed, but seeing you flustered and nervous was worth it.
This way he knew it was working. Everything fell into place and went exactly how it should...now it was time to seal the deal.
————
A few nights later you tossed and turned in your bed. Something was robbing you of your sleep, you felt a hand in you thigh. With fear you ripped your eyes open, coming face to face with Steve who was completely naked. "What are you doing here?" you screeched, had he broken in?
Steve let his hand trail beneath your lace thong as soon as his fingers felt the wetness a low groan slipped from his lips. "God, doll, you're drenched…tell me why…, come on tell your favourite neighbour," a hint of pleading was in his voice. Steve wasn't one to beg, and he didn't beg now.
The blonde wanted you needy and desperate – as if you weren't already. "It was–, was you…," a whine pushed past your lips as Steve entered your leaking hole with one finger, "go on," his voice deep, commending.
"Fuck!" You moaned when he curled his fingers and pressed his on your sensitive nub. "I think it's time you fulfill your duty, doll," before you could process his words you were on your knees. Steve had unbuckled his pants and found his place next to you.
"Come 'ere," he held his hand out just like he did before. You however weren't sure what to do which resulted in hesitation, an action Steve noticed.
"What's wrong doll? Scared?" a part of him was taunting you, but it only turned you on. A bit bummed you shook your head. Steve chuckled deeply and guided you onto his lap, he took out his hard cock. The tip was already leaking with precum, making a little mess on his white dress shirt.
Your eyes widened when you saw his thick girth, wondering how he'd fit inside you.
"Let me give you a little lesson," the blonde said and slowly pushed you down onto his cock. Your drenched cunt working as the perfect lube.
You shot up quickly, eyes wide and t-shirt covered in sweat. Desperately you looked around the room, not knowing exactly what you were searching for. Heavy breathes escaping you as you clenched your thighs, trying to process the dream you just had. Closing your eyes you laid back down, questioning your sanity.
reblogs/comments are always appreciated!
Follow @sstanhoe-updates to get a notification every time I post a new fic!
summary: days after meeting your first friend in college, natasha, you were introduced to her friend group. it was then that you met him, Steve Rogers. and after being cancelled on your friends, you finally got what you wanted. to be alone with him.
tags/warnings: more fluff (i love fluff), confessions!!, an almost kiss, their friend group are a bunch of little shits, no usage of y/n, reader is flustered a LOT.
wc: 1.4k words.
a/n: sorry (not sorry) for writing another fic with a college setting... literally the 3/5 now wow. btw first fic of 2026 yay! hope you enjoyed!!
masterlist
When you first arrived at your new university, you knew absolutely nobody.
Moving through waves of unfamiliar faces, dragging your suitcase and heavy backpack down endless of hallways, until you finally find your assigned dorm.
And when you opened the door to see a gorgeous redhead already unpacking on one of the two twin-sized beds, you had no idea you were about to meet your first real friend.
Her name was Natasha.
The two of you clicked instantly—too easily, it surprised you. You became close friends quickly. Telling each other your background, family back home, and even gossips from your hometown.
Within days, she was already pulling you into her world. Introducing you to her friend group like you have known them since forever. That Friday night transformed everything.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I come?” You doubted. The nerves tugging in your stomach as you stop before the door of a dive bar.
Natasha just smirked, the kind that made it seem like she knew something you didn’t.
“Shut up,” she chuckled. “They’ll love you.”
When you walked into the bar, she introduced you to everyone—her sister Yelena, Wanda, Bucky, Sam…
…And Steve.
You could’ve sworn your mouth went dry—stomach burst with butterflies, the second you saw him.
As weeks turned into months, your friendship with the group grew. Tragically, so have your feelings towards Steve. You managed to keep it hidden. Telling yourself it was nothing—just a stupid little attraction to a gorgeous, Greek god-built guy who had a damning dimple, and smiled like he meant it every time.
Then, for the first time since meeting him, you got exactly what you’d secretly—selfishly—wanted, to be alone with him.
It was supposed to be a group study session in the library as usual. You were surprised to see no one there, since Bucky usually camps at a table after one of his classes, but you sit down on your usual table anyway.
Pulling out your books and laptop to start preparing, opening tabs of ebooks and too many PDFs– when Friday afternoon slowly bled into a string of cancellation texts from the others, except for one.
You sighed, deciding to continue alone (and not be too hopeful), till you saw him the second he walked in. No, you probably felt him before he even opened the door.
Steve grinned when he saw you at the usual desk, strutting his way over with his usual confidence that made you unable to look away.
“Hey,” he called, his dimple faint, already showing.
Then he sat beside you, dropping his backpack down, sliding an iced coffee over the table.
“Hazelnut latte,” continued casually. “Don’t worry– I remember the oat milk.”
You felt your heart stop.
“You remember?” you asked quietly, staring at the cup like it was something too sacred to touch. Fingers brushing over the condensed plastic.
He only shrugged, “Of course. You know why the others cancelled?”
“No… weird. Do you?” tilting your head.
He opened his phone to check a text. “Asked Bucky. Told me that something came up… didn’t tell what though.”
“Huh…” you exclaimed confusingly, opening your phone straight to your group chat.
You: where the hell are all of you !!!
pretty nat: emergency came up 😬
sam the bird: deadline got moved up, gotta grind
wanda my beloved: migraine, sorry guys
lena <3: 🤷♀️
You: ??? lena, thats not even an excuse
buckkk: 🫡 good luck, lovebirds
You blinked. Looking up to the side to see Steve already beaming at his phone, before typing back, slowly.
You: liars. all of you 🙄
Almost half a second later–
pretty nat: wow. rude. enjoy ur ‘studying’
sam the bird: use protection
You: WHAT?? SAM?????
wanda my beloved: sam chill!!
lena <3: LMAOOO
buckkk: proud of you stevie 👍
stevie: bucky i swear to god
Slamming your phone down, your face was flushed. Heat creeping up to your cheeks.
Mortified.
When you looked up to him again, he was already holding back his laughter. Hand over his mouth while his shoulders shake as soon as he fails to contain it.
“They planned this,” you huffed, still glaring at your blowing-up phone. For sure, the group chat.
“Oh absolutely,” he smirked, eyes bright with amusement and mischief. “Days in advance, probably—hell, weeks.” chuckling.
“They are insufferable.” You groaned, scrubbing your face with your hands.
He only leaned in. Voice lower as if he’s sharing a secret.
“Honestly? I’m not mad about it.” He shrugged. Making you look up to him, folding your hands down on the desk.
“In fact,” he leaned back on the wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m kind of glad they did it.” Face etched with that annoyingly attractive smug grin of his.
Oh you don’t know whether to slap or kiss that smile off his face.
“That so?” you raised a brow. Lips slightly tugging at the corner of your mouth.
“Mhm.” he hummed. Leaning forward again, resting his chin on his palm. Studying you, with his eyes on your lips a beat too long.
“Because,” dragging your name out teasingly, “I may or may not just like spending time with you.” He smiled wider.
You were going to have a heart attack at this point. Unable to even mutter a word, your mouth parted, before it closes again.
His teasing grin turned into something softer. Eyes holding your gaze, open and sincere. Completely smitten.
Steve didn’t care how obvious he was being with his own feelings.
Cause, for the love of god, he wanted you to know.
The air between you changed, suddenly thick with tension and something unspoken.
He was still leaning forward with his chin resting in his palm. Eyes fixed on your face like he was memorizing every detail. Your wide eyes, slightly parted lips that he wanted to kiss so bad– before looking at your eyes again.
You swallowed. Mouth feeling too dry.
“I–” you finally spoke up, before stopping again.
His gaze moved to your lips again. Just a beat too long, making your breath hitch.
“You okay?” he asked. Brows slightly knitted as his worry showed.
You nodded, though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it.
“Yeah– yeah.” You stammered. Taking a deep breath and finally exhaling, letting at least some nerves dissipate.
“Just– I didn’t know–” hesitating, “I didn’t know you felt that way…” You muttered.
He smiled at that. Softer than you ever see him.
“Guess I got tired of hiding it…” He confessed gently. You can see how his cheeks are now dusted with redness. Making yourself flushed harder.
You finally distracted yourself. Eyes landing on the long forgotten laptop and watered down ice coffee he brought you, till you felt him shift.
Not touching you. Not yet. But near enough that you felt his warmth and his faint scent of cologne. Lavender? You didn’t care, you just know that it was addicting and you needed more.
Your fingers twitched. An attempt to chase him.
He noticed.
“You don’t have to–” his voice was gentle, careful, but you didn’t let him finish.
Instead, you leaned in just an inch. Close enough that you felt his breath fanned your face, that you could see the tiny freckle on his cheek, the crinkle around his eye as it searched your expressions for permission.
Your stomach flipped. All you could focus on was him. Not the quiet sounds of pages turning, patrons murmuring throughout the library. Only Steve.
He moved slowly, intentionally—giving you time to say no and pull back. Nose brushing yours, just barely there, as your breaths mixed with his.
“Okay?” he breathed quietly.
You nodded.
And then–
A loud THUMP echoed somewhere behind the shelves, making you jerk and pull back.
“Shit!” someone hissed, followed by distressed whispering.
“Sam, I told you not to hover over the shelves–”
“I didn’t hover–”
Steve froze, eyes wide, before groaning in frustration and dropping his forehead on the table.
“Oh my god,” you sighed, heat flooding your face.
From the shelves, Natasha’s recognizable voice carried over, “abort. ABORT.”
Steve finally looked back up at you. Cheeks red, eyes bright as he held back his laughter.
“So…” he started, signature grin already painted on his face, “that was… almost something.”
You smiled back, shy, breathless, and entirely undone.
“Yeah.” You giggled, “almost, huh?”
He finally let out a chuckle, gaze still lingering on your lips a beat too long.
“Rain check?”
You nodded, “rain check,” a small grin on your face.
“Come on out you fuckers!” You called out, making Steve laugh harder, before all of them stepped out. Sheepish smiles on their faces.
