imagine steve rogers

Attempting to bridge the gap between Steve Rogers-centric headcanon and fanfiction.

[imaginesteverogerss]

War Vet Steve and Cillvian Bucky: Please, Please write out Tony and Steve’s coffee get together with plenty of sass!!!!! *melts into a puddle of goo *

Previous fills for War Veteran Steve and Civilian Bucky can be found here:  https://archiveofourown.org/series/876423

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

~~~

Steve called Tony.  He’d been meaning to, but didn’t know what to say, and so left the black and silver business card propped up on the desk in the spare room Bucky had converted into a studio for him. Even with all the canvases and supplies making a riot of color out of the space, the card still stood out. He wasn’t sure when he’d feel ready to use it.

It was after Bucky’d had the nightmare again (the one where Steve didn’t make it.  The one he kept having that always woke him heartsick and blurry-eyed with tears.  Steve never had the heart to tell Bucky how often he had the same dream) that he plucked up the courage.

Steve would be a few floors away and neither he nor Bucky wanted to be too far away after one or the other of them had a bad night.  (Tony had picked up immediately. Had time that same day. Steve didn’t quite believe it was coincidental, but didn’t know Tony well enough to call him on sentimentality). So it was with a gentle peck on the lips that they parted ways in the lobby of Stark Industries, Bucky headed for the elevator and Steve the cafe.  

Tony was already there. “You following me?” 

Steve grinned. “What can I say, you left an impression.”

“Yeah yeah, let a guy rescue you once and he thinks he can replace your shadow.”

It was remarkably easy, to banter with Tony.  Steve wasn’t sure what to expect; the first and only time they met, most of their conversation had been limited to mission-critical exchanges.  The second had been when Tony gave Steve his business card at the SI holiday party.

They settled in with their cups and it was then the silence stretched. Steve began to wonder if maybe he’d made a mistake.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to be those friends that only call one another when we’re in crisis.” Tony laughed, the sound a little too thin to be mistaken for anything but nerves.

Steve grinned. “I don’t think Bucky or Pepper would appreciate that.”

“No. We’re here and whole and Pepper seemed pretty excited about this. I think she thinks I need to branch out beyond the company. I’m glad you called.”

“No better place to start than with someone with a little shared life experience.”

Tony’s expression shuttered. “You too?”

“Maybe. I don’t really remember. My CO wouldn’t say.” He shrugged. “I’m here and I have Bucky, that’s all that matters, really.”

“We love him. By the way. Well, Pepper does. You’re more my speed.”

“What’s that, reckless and stubborn?”

A short laugh escaped Tony under his breath. “Once upon a time.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I hear it ends with a happily-ever-after too.” Tony’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Think so?” Steve was thinking of Bucky’s nightmare. About when his own next one would be. About physical therapy. About how much everything was.

“We have them. I like to think we’ll have each other now too. So yeah. I do.”

Steve smiled. Wider than he had all day. Meant it. “You really are the genius people say you are.”

[imaginesteverogerss]

The beard Steve grows in IW is the first he's ever had. The process of watching his face disappear behind it is more emotional than he thought.

It felt strange, growing the beard. Before the serum, he’d envied Bucky his five o’clock shadow and boar bristle brush. The cream Bucky’d use to soften and tame the wiry hair when he let it grow in the winter. After the serum, Steve had an Appearance and Expectations to maintain, like it or not. He’d always wanted to try and grow a beard and now that he was, it was only half his choice.

It was strange because it felt remarkably like before the serum. He’d been invisible then, despite his efforts to matter. And now he was trying to make himself as unremarkable as he’d always resented being.

He didn’t resent it. Really. He believed that he’d done the right thing. Knew it in his bones that ached with the certainty the way they used to before the serum.

“You good?” Sam appeared in the doorway behind him, his tone much lighter than the look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yes.” Steve rubbed a hand over the reddish brown hair, trying not to scratch at it, trying to ignore the itch under his skin at getting what he’d envied but not on his terms. Again.

“I see what you’re doing.”

Steve startled, meeting Sam’s eye in the mirror. “What?” He was better at lying than people thought, especially when he wasn’t looking someone in the eye.

Sam hummed, picking apart Steve’s expression. “You wanna punch something about it, or you wanna crush it down into that tinderbox you put all your emotions in?”

Steve laughed, bright and despairing and honest. “The tinderbox, I think. I have a feeling I’ll need it soon.”

“I have a feeling you’re right.” Sam leveled an unreadable look at Steve. “You know no matter what, I’ll be mad if you light yourself up for all of us, right?”

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too much.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Steve grinned, stepping past Sam and making his way toward Shuri’s lab, calling over his shoulder. “No, it isn’t.”

[imaginesteverogerss]

Announcement

Hi Everyone!

After an extended pandemic/health/life hiatus that has really crushed inspiration, I’m glad to say that we’re dusting off the cobwebs and will begin posting again! 🥳🥳

That’s said, life is still, well, life, and so to be realistic and sustainable, we’re planning on one to two posts per month. Please feel free to submit prompts, and please know what gets selected is about inspiration, by and large.

A quick reminder to followers new and old:

There are a few topics which we do not write fills for. These include:

Dub con/non-con

Gratuitous violence

Romanticization of unhealthy habits

Any of the -isms

Reader insert prompts

There are plenty of places on Tumblr and AO3 to read fic on those subjects, but we will not be writing for them.

Thank you for sticking with us and for all the well wishes in our inbox 🥰 We’re looking forward to posting again!

-Mod Trish

[imaginesteverogerss]

Happy Weekend!

While we have a few things in our drafts that will be posting soon (this weekend!), don’t forget our inbox is open and ready for headcanons and prompts (all ships welcome! This is a multi-ship blog. Writer faves have no bearing on prompts filled).

In the meantime, I’m sharing the Stucky Big Bang fic I wrote last year (art by the wonderful @strawhatparade).

-Mod Trish

My Heart’s Duet

Bucky has been raising his sister Rebecca ever since their parents died several years ago, leaving him no time to have a love life of his own. A dream gives him an (almost) perfect image of his True Love.

Harold Barton can’t have anyone getting in the way of his corporate empire, and to separate his son Clint from the construction worker he claims to have fallen for, Bucky finds himself across the country with no money, no phone, and no idea what’s happened to him.

Steve’s a divorce lawyer who, at the insistence of his daughter Jane, takes pity on Bucky and helps him, but can’t quite bring himself to believe or trust him. Especially his whole True Love, Once Upon A Dream nonsense. But Jane is taken by Bucky’s love story. And maybe it’s starting to rub off on Steve.

Is Bucky right about who is True Love is? Is Steve right that there’s no such thing? Will it matter, if no one saves Bucky by the stroke of midnight?

If you’ve ever seen Enchanted, or especially if you haven’t, know that while the fic will start off with a whirlwind Clint/Bucky romance, this is a Steve/Bucky fic and there there will be *lots* of banter and flirting and pining between Steve and Bucky before their (happy) ending.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Announcement

Hi Everyone!

After an extended pandemic/health/life hiatus that has really crushed inspiration, I’m glad to say that we’re dusting off the cobwebs and will begin posting again! 🥳🥳

That’s said, life is still, well, life, and so to be realistic and sustainable, we’re planning on one to two posts per month. Please feel free to submit prompts, and please know what gets selected is about inspiration, by and large.

A quick reminder to followers new and old:

There are a few topics which we do not write fills for. These include:

Dub con/non-con

Gratuitous violence

Romanticization of unhealthy habits

Any of the -isms

Reader insert prompts

There are plenty of places on Tumblr and AO3 to read fic on those subjects, but we will not be writing for them.

Thank you for sticking with us and for all the well wishes in our inbox 🥰 We’re looking forward to posting again!

-Mod Trish

[imaginesteverogerss]

Just wondering if this blog is still active?

Hi Nonnie!

I think the best answer to offer you is: kind of!  We’re definitely less active than we had been, and that comes down to a lot of things for each of the writers - work, family, health, free time, inspiration, etc. - Real Life has been making it hard for us to escape to do the thing we love to share those moments of escape with all of you!  ISR will still be posting prompt fills, they just might not be as frequent as they may have been before.    

We hope you’re staying safe as best you can,

Trish 

[imaginesteverogerss]

Something that explores steve's relationship with his Christianity?

It’s just that Steve feels so...out of place, sometimes, still. He’s been in the future - “the future,” he still can’t stop himself from calling it that - for like almost a decade now, and sometimes it still hits him, how new everything is.

Churches are just - it kind of amazes Steve, how much they haven’t changed. It also amazes him how much The Church, as an organization, hasn’t changed either.

So he doesn’t Go to Church, except on Christmas Eve and Easter. But on those days when he’s feeling really lost, sometimes it helps just to duck into a church, just to stand there and look at the imagery and breathe in the incense and dip his fingers in the holy water before he crosses himself.

Sometimes the ritual is just enough to make himself feel steady again, enough to make him feel like he can face it all.

[murderonthemattress]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My contribution to this year’s @stuckybangs Stucky Big Bang!  A massive thanks to @whatasaur for her beta skills, you made this into something sensible and that followed a rational human’s timeline.  Endless thanks and admiration to @feisty-slytherin1027 for her incredible art, linked below.  I’m so grateful for your time and effort and these beautiful pieces!

Title: Tell Me It’s Madness (I Barely Know You)

Author: Gingertintedglasses (murderonthemattress)

Artist: @feisty-slytherin1027

Rating: Teen

Length: 18,231 words

Pairings: Steve/Bucky (Clint/Rebecca Barnes, Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Implied Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Implied T’Challa/Nakia, Implied Maria Hill/Sam Wilson)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings

Summary:

It wasn’t that having a Soulmate was rare, per se; it was that it wasn’t exactly common. Some people had Soulmates, some didn’t, and even those that did, didn’t always end up with their Soulmate. Soulmates were…complicated. Soul-bonds covered all manner of connections, but most often manifested platonically as best friends or siblings, or romantically as lovers. No matter the type of bond, it was invariably announced in the same way: a countdown clock, and a dream that gave you a peek into one another’s lives.

So Bucky’d met his Soulmate. And now, with little more than two weeks to go until they actually spoke, he had his Dream and his Clock showed up. Typical. He’d be home for the next two weeks. If someone from Nowhere, Indiana, was his Soulmate, Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d do. Hope they’d be willing to relocate to New York, probably.

~~

Soulmate, coffee shop AU. Pre-serum punk Steve and Bucky fluff-fest. Overthinking and unhelpful (depending upon who’s asking) friends and family. WILL THEY END UP TOGETHER? I mean. Yes. But the fun is in getting there!

Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588829/chapters/51475036

Links to art by @feisty-slytherin1027:

https://www.deviantart.com/feisty-slytherin1027/art/Sketch043-Jpeg-821682444

 https://www.deviantart.com/feisty-slytherin1027/art/Barista-Steve-serving-Bucky-821655783

https://www.deviantart.com/feisty-slytherin1027/art/Bucky-waits-821655980

https://www.deviantart.com/feisty-slytherin1027/art/Steves-Room-821656105

https://www.deviantart.com/feisty-slytherin1027/art/Buckys-Room-821656263

[imaginesteverogerss]

For those of you interested, I participated in the 2019 Stucky Big Bang!  

(And got it finished like a month after posting started who do I call to get my life together? Surely not the Ghostbusters.)

[imaginesteverogerss]

imagine steve going to a woman's march or something like that

Steve goes alone, not because his team isn’t going, but because he doesn’t want to be part of the team today. He’s not here as an Avenger. He’s here as Steve Rogers. He’s here as the son of a single mother, an immigrant, a nurse. He’s here as a veteran. As a queer man. As a human.

His sign, which he’s able to hold a foot or so higher than most other people, reads:

THE FUTURE IS FEMALE.THE FUTURE IS QUEER.THE FUTURE IS INDIGENOUS.THE FUTURE IS BROWN.THE FUTURE ISR E S I S T A N C E.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Imagine Steve and Thor have an ongoing game of testing how ignorant of 21st century/Midgardian tech and culture they can pretend to be before their teammates catch on.

“And then -- and then --” Steve snorts a laugh, clinging to Thor’s shoulder -- “and then he actually showed me how to use a wrench, like it hadn’t been invented when I was a kid.”

Thor wipes tears from his eyes with the hand not gripping the back of Steve’s shirt. “Last week I got Tony to show me how to use a lighter. A lighter!”

Steve actually stumbles, his ribs aching as he laughs. For someone so smart, Tony’s always the easiest to prank.

Thor catches him, hauling him back upright, and he looks like he’s about to say something else when the elevator dings and its doors open. Both Steve and Thor suck in a breath, stopping up their laughter as Tony wanders in, tinkering with something tiny in his hands.

“Hey Tony,” Steve says, his voice a little strangled. “What -- uh, what are you working on?”

Tony glances up. “Huh? Oh, a -- um, you know what, it’s. It’s just a thing. For, uh, for recording audio.”

Steve glances at Thor, who mouths, a recorder? Steve shrugs.

“Well, gee. That sounds real complex, Tony. We won’t distract you.”

[imaginesteverogerss]

Imagine Steve resulting to a food fight with Tony because Tony's teasing him about his (lack of) cooking skills. Want a handful of cottage cheese down the back of your shirt?

“Steve, what isthat?” Tony asked, nodding towards the bowl Steve was mixing.

“It’s supposed to bekugel,” Steve responded.

“My dad used to havemy mom make that. He said his parents made it for him.”

“Yeah,” Steve said.“Bucky’s mom used to make it for us.”

“Okay, but when myfamily ate kugel, it was, like, shredded potatoes and stuff. It didn’t looklike someone had vomited.”

“Maybe I didn’t doit right?” Steve said tentatively. In all honesty, the mixture didn’t look likehow Bucky’s mom’s did. It was brownish with clumps of cottage cheese floatingaround.

“I think youdefinitely did something wrong, Cap. Where’s the recipe?”

“Over there,” Stevetold him, waving the spoon in the general direction of the stove. Tony proceededto read through the instructions asking Steve if he had added each one.

“For god’s sake,Tony! I added the yogurt!” Steve said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

“And the cottagecheese?”

“And the cottagecheese. If you don’t shut up and start helping, there’s gonna be cottage cheesein more places than just the kugel.”

“You wouldn’t dare,”tested Tony.

“Watch me,” Stevesaid with the same intensity he had during a mission.

Before Tony couldreact, Steve stuffed a handful of the cottage cheese down the back of hisshirt. Tony let out a high pitched screech and grabbed a slice of apple sittingon the counter. He threw it at Steve where it stuck to his cheek. Before eitherof them knew it, food was flying through the air and they were both covered ina thick layer of muck.

Steve collapsedlaughing, looking around the kitchen in despair. “I think I’ll save the cookingfor someone who actually knows how.”

“Me too,” Tony said,gasping for breath.

Needless to say,both were in trouble when Pepper came home.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Ok but Steve wanting to make an official statement about his sexuality being like “I’m as straight as Marlon Brando” and someone going “are you aware that there’s photographic evidence that he sucked dick?” and Steve’s all “yeah”

Steve sends his almost-flippant tweet one day from the Avengers common area, snickering at his phone as he types. Tony sends him a confused glance from the kitchen.

Just Steve Thanks @captainamerica1917I really look up to a lot of people through history. Marlon Brando. Frida Kahlo. Roxane Gay. Alexander the Great. Billie Joe Armstrong.

He talked to PR about it the day before, and the woman had mostly just shrugged and sighed, but she seemed to understand and support Steve’s position that his life was already political. May as well lean in.

Steve doesn’t even have to wait that long for the perfect response, smiling and not at all regretful.

don’t talk about my mom that way @lacystacyReplying to @captainamerica1917did...did you mean to list exclusively bunch of bisexual people or…

Just Steve Thanks @captainamerica1917Replying to @lacystacyGuess I’ve got something in common with them all! Neat :)

“Okay, what?” Tony demands, slapping his wrench down next to the little robot he brought in with him. He squints at Steve and ignores the sputtering espresso machine as it finishes his coffee. “That is a weird noise you’re making and I don’t trust it.”

“I’m just laughing. It’s a thing people do when they’re happy. Chill.”

“Not you! And who taught you to use chill?”

“Natasha. And I feel like me never being happy shouldn’t be the conclusion you draw just because I don’t laugh around you.”

Tony makes an outraged noise just as Natasha saunters into the room as if summoned, her own phone in hand.

“Steve came out on Twitter,” she says, because of course she was listening at the door. “What kind of friend are you, not even supporting him. Jeez, Tony.”

Tony yells what and scrambles for his phone. Natasha smirks at Steve and uses the distraction to steal his espresso. Steve just smiles and goes back to his phone, ready for a fun afternoon of taunting bigots on Twitter with their help.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Steve and Bucky are the worst people to invite out for drinks because they never get drunk. At least it takes a colossal amount before Bucky starts to sing 40s show tunes.

There are at least two dozen empty bottles of liquor on the counter by the time Bucky gets started. Steve, who’s feeling a warm tingle in his belly but that’s about it, just grins, watching as Bucky stumbles out of his chair, his feet stuttering a bit on the edge of the rug.

The only person who has not moderated their alcohol intake is Tony, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor by the stereo, punching buttons. Nothing happens, because three days ago Thor had tripped on the cord and been unable to figure out how to fix what he had done.

They don’t need that music anyway. Bucky clears his throat, throws back his shoulders, and begins.

“Ding, dong the witch is dead!” he sings. He’s terrible, absolutely terrible, but as he skips along in circles, that really just makes it all the funnier.

He grabs Natasha, pulls her out of her seat and throws her over his shoulder, still doing high steps. At least he’s a good dancer, and hasn’t yet dropped Nat.

After a minute or two, he sets her down, still singing in his weird high-pitched Munchkin voice. Steve shakes his head at Bucky when he holds out his hands for him, but after a second Bucky just grabs him and pulls him up.

Bucky hooks his arm through Steve’s, and suddenly they’re following an imaginary yellow brick road, Bucky still singing.

It may not be his favorite musical, nor is he looking forward to taking care of Bucky tomorrow morning, but, well, it’s Bucky.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Every time Steve sees Nat’s scar, he comments that she looks terrible. Inevitably, someone overhears and is horrified that Captain America would say such a mean thing.

Steve’s kneeling on Natasha’s thighs, hunched over her torso when Sam shows up for their beach day.

“Hey,” Nat calls, picking her arm up and waving in the general direction of the doorway. The other hand she leaves behind her head, in the sun on the floor like a cat.

“What’s happening over here?” Sam asks, coming closer and peering over the back of the couch.

Steve glances up, dunks his brush back into his paint. “I’m helping Nat cover up this horrific scar. She can’t go to the beach with it just hanging out there like that.”

Sam leans his forearms on the back of the couch, frowning. “I happen to like that scar very much,” he says.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, bending low again to finish up, “and you’ll like it even better when I’m done.” He puts the finishing touches on, blows cool air over her belly to dry the paint, and stands so he can help her up. “See?”

Sam’s glare gentles as he looks at Natasha, then goes completely soft. “Oh,” he says.

Steve grins, wiping his hands on a rag, and leans over a little so he can look again. The scar was pretty round, with just a little jagged spike off the lower left end. A beak, an eye, and some tiny wings have turned it into a little rosy pink bird.

As he walks past Sam to wash his hands, he gives him a light smack on the arm with his rag. “Told you,” he says. “Quit staring at the lady.”

“The lady’s okay with the staring,” Nat says. “Really okay with it, actually.”

[imaginesteverogerss]

Since we are allowed to send in endgame request. Can someone please write one where old man Steve is benched because his old age and has to babysit Morgan when everyone goes off to fight. And Steve proves just because of he's looks his age now does not me he still can't kick butt when the fight comes to him and Morgan.

“Steve!  Morgan!”  Sam burst into the room, following the trail of disarray and destruction up from the third floor and down the hallway.  

Silence was his only response.  

Finger to his ear, Sam relayed back: “No response from Steve or Morgan.  Scott, FRIDAY, anything on your radars?”

Sam forged on ahead as he waited for their replies.  Neither were fast enough, though, as he rounded a corner and two voices shouted: 

“Stop!” and “Uncle Sam, No!”

At the same time a volley of thumb tacks and nails rained down on him from what seemed like all directions.  

“What kind of Home Alone shit is this?!” He shouted.  His goggles and suit protected him for the most part.  But still.  

It was once he’d stepped away from the mess on the floor that he was able to take in the scene before him: three Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Rejects were hog-tied in one corner and there were a myriad of traps as-yet un-tripped.  It was then that Sam realized the disarray hadn’t necessarily been thanks to the Turtlemen (men in turtle suits?  Actual turtle-people?  Sam wasn't sure and didn’t have the capacity or interest to find out at the moment), but rather thanks to Steve and Morgan, who were holed up in the most easily-defensible spot on the top floor, Morgan perched behind Steve’s left shoulder and Steve ready with a tire iron, a bad attitude, and a familiar gleam in his eye.  

“Sorry about that.”  Steve stood and carefully went about dismantling some of the traps, Morgan setting to work on the others.  “We had everything under control, though.”

“Hi Uncle Sam.  I hope you enjoyed your acupuncture session.”

Sam wagged a finger at Morgan.  “You’re not supposed to be this sassy until your six.”

Morgan stuck out her jaw.  “I am six.”

“Next week.  And picking up your Uncle Steve’s habits.  Lord help us.”

Steve laughed.  “It’s a good thing she is.  I needed another set of hands to set all those traps that fast.”

“I thought of half of ‘em!”

Sam tapped his earpiece.  “I’ve got them.  They’re fine.  More than fine.  Turns out he’s more of a menace without the shield.”

“You knew that!” Came Scott’s reply.  “We all knew that!  117 countries know that!”

[imaginesteverogerss]

Steve with a child? Stucky or SamSteve

“Come on, sweetheart, you like potatoes!” Steve cajoles. Christina’s face scrunches up even tighter as her wailing climbs up an octave. Steve winces. It’s been two hours and she’s about to reach dolphin levels and Steve’s super hearing has never been more of a curse.

“Well, what about peas?” he tries, replacing the bowl of white mush with green. Teenie pauses, and for a second Steve thinks she might be accepting the new food, but it’s only to take a deep, shuddering breath. She’s still trying to scream, though, so she chokes and starts coughing through her tears. Steve’s heart breaks, of course, because even though she wouldn’t be so upset if she would just eat something, he can’t handle it when his daughter is upset like this.

“Okay, okay,” he coos, reaching for her. “Come here, baby, you’re okay, we’ll figure it out.”

He’s just getting the straps of the high chair undone when Teenie gives another wet cough, gags, and vomits all over Steve’s chest and arms. 

Steve freezes, arched away from Teenie in a futile effort to avoid her spit up. She hiccups a few more times and sniffles at him, but thankfully stops screaming. Steve sighs.

“Right.” He looks down at his shirt and the remains of breakfast - clearly the source of the last two hours of screaming. “Just a second.”

He doesn’t even bother leaving the kitchen, just strips his shirt off right there and tosses it into the sink. He washes his hands over it and only barely dries them before he scoops up Teenie. She’s still sniffling and teary-eyed, and Steve can’t handle more crying. She snuggles straight into his chest, nose tucked into his collarbone, soothed for the time being. Steve closes his eyes and presses his nose to her thick curls, rocking her slowly and stroking her back.

Sam finds them in the living room when he gets home an hour later. Steve is sprawled across the couch with Teenie curled up on his bare chest, both of them snoring softly. Sam suppresses a scream of delight at how cute they are and takes a picture and sets it as his lock screen. He sends it to all of the Avengers as he heads to the kitchen to start dinner, because not a single one of them can resist the Sam’s adorable family.

He finds Steve’s vomit-covered shirt in the sink and sends a picture of that too, because he shouldn’t be the only one to suffer. 

[imaginesteverogerss]

Imagine Steve spending time with Thor, relishing the fact that Thor’s the only person on the team who doesn’t share that propaganda-heavy, seventy-year-old preconceived image of him.

"Hey, asshole.”

Steve looks up, turning from the coffeemaker. “Oh, hey, fucko,” he replies. “Coffee?”

Thor scoffs. “Not if it’s made by you,” he says. Rounding the island, he hipchecks Steve out of the way. Steve yelps, holding his coffee out away from himself so that if it spills he doesn’t get scalding coffee on his crotch. “Out of my way, youngster.”

“I’m a hundred and two!” Steve protests, and takes a sip of his coffee, which, well, it turns out Thor’s right. He hides his grimace behind the mug.

“And it shows,” Thor says, tamping down coffee grounds. “But I’m centuries older than you, and I know how to make a better cup of coffee than you.”

[imaginesteverogerss]

How about one where the team plays never have I ever and Steve shocks everyone by things he has done and it's all from being in the army. So like skinny dipping (bathing in River) or peeing outside (no porta potties in war time!) Etc.

“So Steve was supposed to be the drunk one.  Steve.  I suggested this game specifically to give him the chance to drink himself silly.  I’ve been had.”  Tony sounded scandalized.  

“Steve is drunk.”  Natasha motioned towards Steve with her slice of pizza.

“Right but so’m I.”  Tony griped.

“You’ve never ended one of these games sober, Tony.  Not once.”  Rhodey was pretty buzzed.  Especially after this last round.  

When you work with superheroes, as a superhero, outlandish never-have-I-ever declarations don’t work.  The everyday things though?  Those are where it gets interesting.  Who hasn’t taken down an international crime syndicate?  Find Natasha someone who had a relatively stable upbringing.  Honestly, Scott and Rhodey were doing the best of all of them.  

But skinny-dipping?  As rebellious as Steve was, he was notoriously modest and Natasha had been surprised it was something he’d done.  (No one was surprised that Clint, Thor, or Tony had, but Rhodey was a surprise, as was Wanda.  Maybe Hill.  Maybe.  Natasha had been on too many missions with her to be truly surprised.  Hill contained multitudes.  Natasha had not skinny-dipped.  Not ever.  She had her reasons.)

“Also, I’m not sure why you’re complainin’,”  Steve mumbled around the rim of his Asgardian mead stein, “I drank to that one.  I have been skinny-dipping.”

“Right but when?  I was hoping that there’d be more dirt on you, Rogers.  This is the first truly scandalous thing you’ve drank to.”  Tony stuffed half a garlic knot in his mouth to punctuate his point as messily as possible.

“During the war.”  Steve’s jaw set into a mulish expression, motioning to Tony.  “And fine.  Ask the next one.  Be sure it’s about never giving a lap dance-”

“-I’ve done that.”  Tony’s cut in, unimpressed

"-to a Stark.”  Steve finished, too-sweet smile on his face.

Tony startled, picked up the rest of his bottle of rum, and headed for the elevators, shouting to JARVIS about needing his rum intravenously as soon as possible.  

Natasha was sure it was only her years of training that meant she’d only raised an eyebrow.  Rhodey’s expression could have only been described as disturbed.  

Steve made a helpless gesture at the expressions facing him from his teammates.  “What?  It was a dare.  But it still counts!”