Series Summary: After saving your life, Steve decides to teach you some manners.Â
Chapter Summary: Steve makes a dark promise to himself.Â
Warnings: masturbation, hints of non-con aspects, dark!Steve, PTSD.
Series Masterlist:
My Master List:
I. New YorkÂ
II. Madrid
The next time he saw you was in Madrid.
A few months after the battle of New York, you were still having nightmares of being trapped under that car, chitauri surrounding you. Every night you would wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing erratically as you tried to reassure yourself that you were safe now, they were gone, the Avengers had saved the day. But it never worked and eventually you just became afraid to fall asleep, so afraid of the ever present night terrors that you would try to stay awake for days at a time.Â
Of course when you had bags so dark underneath your eyes that it hurt to rub them, your eyesight occasionally going blurry from lack of sleep, you finally had to give in, only to wake up mere hours later in an even worse state.Â
In the beginning your friends had tried to be there for you, sharing similar horror stories of that day, but they didnât seem nearly as affected as you were. They could still go out at night, walk down the street without constantly looking over their shoulders, you couldnât. After the first month of having to endure your constant state of panic, they started drifting, so slowly that you hadnât really realised until one by one they had left you all alone, with no one but the Chitauri to keep you company.Â
You finally realised that you needed help when the sound of a car backfiring outside the cafe you worked at had made you cower in fear, shattering a stack of glasses in the process. The table which you had hidden under protected you from the external horrors, the heavy wood above your head, although littered with marks from its many years of service still held strong, little rainbows dancing along the underside, reflecting off of the glass shards that dug into you. Â
That night you had gone online and booked a one way plane ticket, maybe if you ran far enough your nightmares wouldnât be able to find you.
Madrid would be your new home.Â
+
 Steve had been undercover at a cantina, waiting for the mark to come by when he saw you again. To say he was shocked to see you here, in Madrid of all places, would be an understatement. It was only his first day here, he had joined Bucky and Nat on the stakeout last night and neither of them would have recognised you but he did. He remembered.Â
 He remembered the way your body had felt in his arms, your perfect curves that had been hidden by too many layers, your pink lips that had been screaming to be kissed. He also remembered your ingratitude.Â
 At first it had just served as a reminder to Steve that times had changed while he was in the ice. This world was so different to the one he had known; once people had to work for their dreams and had proper manners. Now however, they just expected everything to be handed to them on a silver platter. Yours wasnât the first case of it that he had noticed, but it was the one that stuck to him, plaguing his mind.Â
 The way you had just shrugged him off made him feel like he was back in the 1930âs, still the skinny kid from Brooklyn whom dames always passed over, always preferring his sole friend, Bucky. He had thought that after getting the serum his days of being ignored and treated like scum were over, but apparently not.
 In the weeks after the battle instead of focussing on the clean-up of the city, his thoughts had been completely occupied by you and your indifference to him. During the nights his obsession never let up as he dreamt of finding you, of teaching you some manners.Â
 Initially he had been ashamed, horrified even. Never in a million years had he ever thought of treating a dame in such a way but as the nights continued, weeks turning into months, so did the dreams that were growing increasingly hard to resist.Â
 Many times as he awoke too soon to blame his stained sheets on purely just his dream. On those occasions his hand you make their way down his body, into the waistband of his boxers as if on their own accord, freeing him of the constricting material. One hand would wrap around his painfully hard cock, the other would start tugging at his balls as he chased the fleeing memories of his dream.
As he worked his hand up and down his length his mind shifted between ideas of how he would force some manners into you; sometimes he would simply imagine bringing you the brink of an orgasm, continually denying you until you were a mess, begging for him, pleading him to let you come, promising him anything. On his darker days however, he would imagine you tied up, hands and legs bound, spread eagle on his bed as he ravished your body, just as helpless as you had been stuck under that car, completely at his mercy. Maybe that would teach you some manners.Â
 As time had passed he had become increasingly obsessed with you, obsessed with what he would do to you if he ever saw you again and now here you were, so close that he could reach his hand out and grab your ass if he wanted to.
 Steve watched as you made your way around the tables, taking peopleâs orders in both English and Spanish so easily that he wondered if you had always been able to speak it. His palms rubbed against the rough denim of his jeans as you neared his table, he still couldnât believe you were here, so tantalizingly close to him.Â
 He knew that he couldnât be recognised, it would blow the whole recon mission so he pulled his dark blue baseball cap pulled low, further over his brow even though Nat had said the full beard he was now sporting was disguise enough. It pained him to avert his eyes from you as you stopped, standing at his table, ready to take his order, but he knew he needed to. There would be time enough for watching you after the mission was finished.
+
Five years had now passed since the battle of New York and Madrid was still your home. At first it has been hard, living in a new place, trying to find work with the handful of Spanish you had picked up from here and there. Eventually you found your saving grace, Mariana, an older woman who owned a cantina near the hotel you had been staying at. She hired you despite your complete lack of Spanish and over time you helped each other, you taught her English while she gave you work and a place to stay at a small cost.Â
 As the months turned into years, your nightmares started fading away. Not all at once and definitely not completely, but they no longer took ahold of you every night or occupied your every waking thought. Instead they settled, taking up residence in a back corner of your mind, occasionally stirring every now and then. But it was manageable now, far away in Madrid, protected by the great mass of water separating you and fifth avenue.Â
 +Â
 It was a slow day today at the cantina. Barely any tables had patrons sitting in them but that was just as well though, you hated when it was packed, reminding you of the crowded streets of New York. as you flittered between tables, taking orders and bringing out dishes you noticed a man had taken up one of the empty tables.Â
Immediately you knew he was American, his baseball cap practically screamed as much. You had never realised until you had come to Europe just how painfully obvious Americans always were when they travelled.Â
âGood afternoon, hereâs our menu but can I get you anything to drink while you decide?â You asked, passing over the laminated paper, shivering as his fingers brushed over yours.Â
âJust an Americano thank you.â You smiled and nodded and went to walk away. There was something oddly familiar about him but you couldnât put your fingers on it, you felt like you had seen him before but where you had no idea. He definitely hadnât come into the cantina before, that you were sure of.Â
Rounding the countertop by the coffee machine you glanced back over your shoulder, trying to place the strange man only to be caught in the act, his eyes already on you, watching you intently. Something about the way his eyes stayed fixed on your body as you made his coffee had you squirming inside, you didnât want his eyes following your every movement, practically undressing you in his mind.Â
Putting on a brave face you returned to him, trying to hide the way your hand shook holding the ceramic mug. âHere you go, anything else I can do for you?â
A photo album of ideas sprung to Steveâs mind at your question. There were a lot of things you could do for him, with him, but he bit down the words, he could do them all later.
âYes but Iâm good for now.â He didnât miss the confusion that crossed over your face as you turned away, but he didnât pay any attention to it, the mark had just walked through the door and Steve smiled to himself. The quicker the mission is completed, the quicker he would have you as his.Â
He waited, sipping his coffee as the mark, Alejandro Garcia, ordered his own to go, spending far too much time talking to you in the process for Steveâs liking. His anger grew as he watched you laugh at something Alejandro had said. If only you knew what he had done. Who this man obviously flirting with you really was. Clearly you werenât very good at making your own choices but Steve was reassured that soon that freedom would be taken away and you would be safe, from yourself and from others. He just had to wait.Â
 When Alejandro finally left, Steve followed soon after, chucking a twenty on the table and glancing back at you as he neared the door.Â
His last sight was of you joking around with a new customer, a smile on your face, blissfully unaware of the dark promise Steve was making to himself. Â
To all the writers that are tagging me for the stories they write, I want to express my gratitude as they are a âWonderfully, Amazingâ distraction! Thank you!!! @jtargaryen18 @nickysurfer28  đđđ
