So as I mentioned I'm somehow back with a full MCU hyperfixation that came out of nowhere after... six years? seven? How long ago that clusterfuck that was Endgame came out? Holy shit, the world was different back then.
Anyway. I'm not a shipper, never have been, never will be, but I still love these two for what they are, however you wanna call it. "Till the end of the line" has been my WhatsApp status for close to ten years, the football team I've loved since I was ten has the same motto. Unearthly loyalty is my love language.
Anyway. Long hair for the Winter Soldier is @sharewithmeyourpoem's fault, but it's not like I tried fighting it at all. The Hydra arm is the coolest ever, sorry Shuri. The stealth suit is a work of art and I loved finding out details I had never noticed before.
Detail shots below the cut to show off the somewhat achieved resemblance to the actors and the tiny things I'm proud of. I had an unhealthy dose of fun painting leather and metal.
5 Times Tony Had Steve's Back, and 1 Time Steve had Tony's (ao3) - itsallAvengers
T, 25k
Summary: As it turns out, Steve gets himself into a lot more shit than you would think. And for some reason, it's always Tony who ends up saving his sorry ass.
and you're out (ao3) - Zekkass
M, 4k
Summary: A villain kidnaps Tony and removes his arc reactor and Steve's the one to rescue him. Tony proceeds to try and deal with this. Steve tries not to think about the gaping hole he saw in Tony's chest.
Breaking Point (ao3) - itsallAvengers
M, 6k
Summary: They torture Tony to try and get information out of Steve
Happiness Is Homemade (ao3) - Icylightning
T, 40k
Summary: Tony and Steve are married for fifteen years now. Their life is simple and good until they decide to adopt a teenager named Peter Parker who’s going to turn their life upside down.
Happy Again (ao3) - Legends_Never_Die
T, 31k
Summary: Peter can’t take this dads’ fighting anymore. He can’t take the arguing. He finds comfort with his secret new found friend Bucky. Bucky looks a lot like his Pop’s old friend Bucky Barnes from back in the 40s. But it wasn’t him. He was dead. Right?
Have I told you (That I'm Glad You're Here?) (ao3) - RedpathArcade
N/R, 1k
Summary: "What the hell was that Stark?" Steve barked, storming into Tony's workshop. The blond was still in his Captain America outfit, shield strapped to his back. Tony also still had his suit on. Face-plate up and Steve took in the pained expression on the Brunets face. And maybe given the situation he should be gentle, but he was simply too furious.
Helpless (ao3) - Crematosis
T, 6k
Summary: When Tony is attacked by voodoo spells, Steve wishes he could do more to protect him.
hold the things you wanna say (ao3) - SailorChibi
T, 6k
Summary: Tony is still a consultant, and between SI, the team and SHIELD he’s overworked and exhausted. That’s okay.
He and Steve have been having sex for weeks but that’s all it is, just sex, and Tony wants more but he’ll never get it and that’s okay. Really.
What’s not okay is the fact that Howard Stark has somehow appeared in the future and is the same as always.
This is definitely going to fuck up his schedule.
Insomnia (ao3) - Scavenge4Dreams
E, 10k
Summary: Its 3am. Do you know where your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist is?
In Which Steve Doesn't Take Kindly to Shovel Talk (ao3) - love_in_the_stars
T, 1k
Summary: When warning Tony Stark not to break Steve's heart, Bucky probably shouldn't have threatened to remove the arc reactor.
It Takes a Village (or a team of superheroes) (ao3) - aven_garde
steve/tony, clint/phil
T, 33k
Summary: Three months after the Chitauri attack, Tony received a phone call that changed his life. (Or, the one in which a group of remarkable people come together and balance battling villains and raising a child).
Love Is A Battlefield (ao3) - crumbcrash2000
steve/tony, tony/tiberius
E, 53k
Summary: In Siberia, Steve looks on in horror as Tony watches the video of his parents’ murder. Expecting the worst, he is prepared to fight to defend Bucky, even through the shock of his own betrayal.
But Tony doesn’t lash out.
Instead, Tony cries, and Steve’s whole life falls apart.
Loving Tony Stark (ao3) - Gothic_Lolita
M, 1k
Summary: Tony doubts himself, and Steve is determined to make sure Tony knows how perfect he is, and that he will always be there for Tony.
Summary: Being in an abusive relationship was a bit like needing glasses. He didn’t realize it until the damage was done.
Funny how people assume only men can be abusive.
Pieces of Echoes (ao3) - geekymoviemom
steve/tony
T, 334k
Summary: When weapons designer and SHIELD consultant Tony Stark and his son are kidnapped following a routine weapons demonstration, newly defrosted World War II hero Steve Rogers is sent to find them.
But what begins as just another mission, a way for Captain America to reintegrate back into society, quickly warps into something more as betrayals are discovered, harsh, long-buried truths are finally brought to light, and Tony and Steve come to realise that their biggest allies are each other.
here's Steve holding the nape of Danny's neck/cradling the back of his head when they hug, in a protective and possessive gesture at the same time, for reasons 😏
Summary: College wasn’t what you were expecting it to be. You didn’t have many friends, you didn’t party on the weekends, and your homework was always in on time. Things take a turn when your World War II instructor, Professor Rogers, asks you to stay behind one day after class. What will happen when lines get blurred, feelings get hurt, and two people from vastly different life paths fall in love?
> Word Count: 2.2K
> Warnings: 18+ MDNI; Age gap (Steve is in his early thirties, reader is twenty in this part), some mild language and thotty thoughts, history talk, no smut in this part.
A/N: AHHHHHHHHH this series will ruin me. I can’t wait to put it out. It’s gonna be so good and nasty. While this part is not explicit itself, most of the series will be, so MDNI and 18+ guys. I have no idea when the next parts will be out as I have other wips that need to be worked on, but AHHHHHHH I’m so excited for this you guys have no idea. Comments, likes, reblogs, and feedback is super appreciated! Love you guys <3
Main Masterlist
------------------
College was far from what you were expecting.
Parties, frats, friends, blacking out on a Tuesday in some randoms bathroom...
That’s what you were told was the “college experience”. Something everyone gets to go through as a right of passage once you get there.
They were so, so wrong.
Days spent in the library, nose in a book, pens out and ready to take notes- that’s what you got instead. It wasn’t the worst- your grades were fantastic and you were popular among the professors in your major’s department.
Maybe it was just that you loved learning and would do anything for good grades. Maybe it was just your anxiety. It didn’t help that you were already a junior, only four semesters left to go until you graduated with such little social experience under your belt.
Your favorite professor of the semester had to be Professor Rogers, your World War Two instructor. To be fair- he was popular amongst most of the undergraduates in your major- the guys liking his in-depth descriptions of events of the 30s and 40s and the girls enjoying that and the view. You couldn’t lie, Professor Rogers was insanely handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. Or they could hear it in his voice when he spoke during lectures, the depth of it alone enough to make you blush. Or, maybe if they got lucky, you could smell how handsome he was from the high-end cologne he often wore, the amber and sandalwood notes drifting through the classroom and lingering there all day.
It’s the class you were sitting in now, head down and hovering over your notebook as you quickly wrote notes while he spoke about the Battle of Midway.
“The Japanese lost approximately three thousand and fifty seven men, four carriers, one cruiser, and hundreds of aircraft, while the United States lost approximately three hundred and sixty two men, one carrier, one destroyer, and one hundred and forty four aircrafts. Any questions?” Professor Rogers said, turning to face the class of twenty students, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue dress pants.
Nearly ten hands raised, most of them just wanting to hear him speak for as long as possible before class was over. He chuckled lightly before he began answering question after question, your notes abandoned now that he was done with the lecture. You rested your head on your palm, your elbow dug into the solid wooden desk as you allowed yourself to zone out. His voice carried through the classroom, fluctuating slightly when he got to the last few questions. The room eventually got quiet, and you hadn’t realized most of the students had filtered out. Your attention was caught again when a large shadow loomed over your desk, amber and sandalwood flooding your senses, making you peer up.
“Did today’s lesson bore you, Miss Y/l/n?” Professor Rogers asked, a gentle grin on his face.
You hummed, shaking your head. “Not too much. Your way of explaining Midway was great.”
His grin grew into a full smile. “Well, I don’t think it helps that you’re already well versed on the topic. Not sure why you even took this course when you seem to know more about it than I do.” His pen dragged along the edge of your desk.
“It was this or Dr. Romanoff’s Russian Empire class and I’d much rather keep my gpa where it’s at.” You smiled back, the casual banter between you two a normalcy at this point. It was somehow easier for you to connect with your professors than it was your peers, and you and Professor Rogers had build a good rapport despite it only being a couple of weeks into the semester.
His eyes were soft on yours and you internally wished you had a photographic memory to capture how he was looking at you. Something you’d gladly look back on any chance you got.
“Have you started your research paper yet?” He asked, knowing you always liked to stay ahead of schedule.
Your hands moved under the desk, your thumbs twiddling around each other. “I know this might sound shocking, but I have not. I’m just having a difficult time narrowing down a topic.”
“Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out, but if you had any ideas you wanted to bounce around… this is my last class of the day. You can stay and we can discuss it if you’d like.” Professor Rogers offered, his brows slightly raised while he waited for an answer.
You really did need help to figure out a topic. Plus, who could say no to spending extra time with Professor Rogers? Even if it was only to discuss your research paper. You’d be an idiot to pass up the opportunity.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that a lot, Professor.” You agreed, placing your notebook and pen back in your book bag.
“Great,” He started, walking down to his rectangular desk at the front and throwing a leather satchel over his shoulder. “We can move to my office if that’s alright, less noisy.” He said, motioning with his hand to the hallway outside.
You nodded, grabbing your book bag and following his lead. His office was connected to the classroom, so it wasn’t a long walk until the both of you were inside and he was closing the door behind you.
He cleared his throat, running a hand over his beard as he shuffled around to his desk chair. “Go ahead- have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” His voice was a little less formal now as he spoke to only you, something you took note of. It was still just as alluring, but less… intense, perhaps.
It was the first time you had ever been in his office. The two of you were alone, on top of that. You allowed yourself to look around, noticing the various decorations he had that cozied up the place. He had a few framed pictures, none of them featuring any sort of wife or kids, a bookshelf with its contents in pristine condition, a rubix cube and some small wooden puzzles, his degree framed and hanging on the wall behind him, some posters of World War Two propaganda, and a coat rack in the corner. It seemed very fitting, to say the least.
You sat yourself in the big leather chair across from his desk, crossing your legs at the thigh and untensing your shoulders. It was close enough to him that you could hear him breathing and your shoe was grazing the bottom of the desk, but far away enough to where you hoped he couldn’t see the flush in your face.
“Would you like some water or coffee or anything?” Professor Rogers offered, taking a quick swig of his own mug of black coffee.
“Oh, no thank you I’m fine.”
He threw you a tight lipped smile before asking to see what notes you’ve gathered so far. You reached down into your bag, grabbing your notebook back out and opening to the messily scribbled on page.
“So, my ideas for the topic are between the Blitzkrieg against Holland and Belgium, Dunkirk and Operation Dynamo, or Normandy and Operation Overlord.” You said, watching your professor read through the detailed notes you had jotted down about each one.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you.“You know- my colleagues weren’t wrong when they told me how great of a student you are. I guess I just didn’t expect this level of responsibility and brightness.”
He’s talked about you?
If your face was hot before- it was nearly melting now. “Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ve always been really invested in my studies, so…”
“It’s admirable, Y/n. In my seven years of teaching here I have yet to come across a student of your caliber. You raise the bar, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, now you’re just being too nice-”
He shook his head. “No, it’s completely true. Each time I grade something of yours I feel dumb. And I was a World War Two nerd back in the day.”
Your heart was fluttering like crazy and you felt like if he kept complimenting you like this you’d just explode right there in his fancy, and probably super expensive, leather office chair. “Thank you, Professor. I apologize for making you feel stupid.” You joked with a grin, hoping to lighten the air that surrounded you, the one that was drowning you in his scent.
A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Apology accepted. Now back to your paper…”
Professor Rogers sat there and talked with you, giving you amazing feedback on what topics he thought would work best, as well as writing down sources you could check out and use. By the time the two of you had wrapped up the sun was gone for the day, replaced by her sister glowing high and full in the obsidian sky.
“Shoot-” You started, glancing down at your watch and noticing the time. It was a quarter to ten. “I should probably get going. I didn’t even realize what time it was, sorry for keeping you here so long.” You finally stood, gathering your strewn out notes and shoving them into your bag before you tossed it on your back.
He stood too, reaching for his coat and satchel. “It’s not a problem, Y/n. Why don’t you let me drive you back to your dorm? It’s probably not too safe to walk there alone this late.”
“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that- it’s okay.” You attempted to decline, not wanting your professor to go out of his way to drive you home when you’ve already taken up his night.
Once again, he shook his head. “You’re not asking, I offered and I insist. I’m sure you know how sketchy this campus can be after dark.”
You bit at your lip. “Are you sure?”
He moved to the door, his car keys twirling between his fingers. “Positive. C’mon.” He said as he held his office door open, the lights in the classroom already off. You threw him a sweet smile, slipping between the open door and waiting for him as he locked his office up.
The walk to the parking lot wasn’t long and was spent mostly in silence. The both of you came to a stop next to the only car left in the lot- a deep red Chrysler 300, and he moved to open the passenger door for you. You whispered a timid thank you.
His car was in such good condition you wondered if your professor was a secret germaphobe. It smelled like it had just been cleaned recently, too, but a single Black Ice air freshener hung from the rear view mirror, swaying slightly from the door closing once you were in. Your breathing was labored, heart nearly in your ass at the thought of being in your professor's car. Alone.
He climbed in just a moment later, shoving the keys into the ignition and letting the car whir to life. He looked over at you, already watching his movements intently.
“Where to?” He asked, that familiar grin back on his face.
You told him which residence hall you lived in, albeit a lot shakier than you intended to. He gave a nod, turning onto the main road in the direction of your dorm.
It was silent for a moment, but his voice rang out, startling you a bit. “I hope you didn't mind me being too forward with wanting to drive you home, but I would have been uncomfortable making you walk back by yourself this late.”
Oh fuck-
Oh sweet Jesus fucking Christ-
His hand had found a home on your thigh as he spoke, his warmth radiating through your jeans and into your skin, traveling somewhere that made you wanna-
“It’s fine, I just didn’t want to inconvenience you.” You managed to get out, completely and utterly baffled at how composed you sounded when you were on the verge of whimpering from his huge hand being so close to your-
He squeezed his hand down, your denim clad flesh tingling under his palm. And just as quickly as he put it there he retracted it, settling it back down on his own leg. “Not an inconvenience in the slightest. I promise.” He assured.
You hadn’t realized the car had stopped in front of your residence hall until your professor put the car in park. You glanced out the window before speaking. “Thanks again for driving me here, Professor Rogers.”
“Steve. You can just call me Steve- outside of class, I should specify.” He said, eyes finding yours in the low light of the car's interior.
You nearly choked on your breath.
Outside of class? What the fuck does that mean?
“Okay... well, thank you again- Steve.” You emphasized the name, smiling as you opened the passenger door and stepped out, grabbing your bag. Before you could close the door he called out.
“Have a good night, Y/n. See you Wednesday.”
“Yeah, see you then.” You said, finally shutting the car door and turning to walk inside, your eyes wide and your stomach doing an entire gymnastics routine. Your keys fumbled in your hands and you internally groaned, hoping he wasn’t still watching you even though you knew his car hadn’t left yet.
Your roommate, Yelena, was pacing in the kitchen when you got back, a half-eaten tub of ice cream held against her stomach.
“Dude! Where the hell have you been? You never get home this late- I was contemplating calling the cops.” She yelled through a bite of cookie dough.
The day's events swirled in your mind, a slight smile pulling at your lips. Your back leaned against the door, your thoughts racing.
“Oh you know- the library.” You lied.
“The library closes at eight on Mondays.”
You giggled, a dreamy stare lingering in your eyes as you made your way to your room. “Uh huh- goodnight Yelena”
-
-
-
My Masterlist
If you enjoy my work please consider supporting me! > My Ko-Fi
Summary: You take up your neighbor’s offer to do laundry at his place and end up with a great friend to go to a haunted pumpkin patch with. Tons of adrenaline, a crappy run in with an ex, and pumpkins lead to confessed feelings and fluffy times. [modern au]
Pairing: neighbor!steve x reader
Warnings: FLUFF, literally fluff city, swearing, mentions of pumpkins, Steve baking, semi spoilers for the Invisible Man movie, mild panic attack upon seeing a shitty ex, mentions of controlling ex, protective Steve, Steve pretends to be your boyfriend, and mentions of gory horror attractions at a spooky halloween themed farm.
Word Count: 5.1k
A/N: Inspired by my curiosity for what it’d be like to take up Steve on his offer to do laundry at his place from catws. Happy reading and Happy Halloween! 🎃👻🖤
After a long week at work, you finally trudged up the steps to your apartment. You recently moved to take a job working for a nonprofit in Washington D.C. and you loved everything about your new home. The history, the convenience of walking wherever you needed to go, and always having something to do nearby — it was truly a wonderful place to be.
The only big inconvenience you often battled was doing your laundry. The property manager told you when you signed your lease that there were no washer and dryer hookups in the apartment but fortunately there was a laundry room in the building’s basement. You had never lived in an apartment with that set up, but you figured you could deal with it considering the perfect location. But boy were you wrong.
There was a constant battle to get a machine. Whenever you would get one, the timing of it all was stressful and sometimes you’d find your clothes dumped off to the side because you weren’t there at the exact right second to move it. It was frustrating. After waiting to get a machine for some time, and finding none available you decided to give up and take your laundry back home. You were so tired of the frequent laundry debacles but you knew it was a small price to pay for how much you loved everything else. Nevertheless, you walked up the staircase to your apartment and placed your tall laundry bin down in front of the door with a huff.
Just as you got the key in the door you heard a warm and deep voice in the stairwell telling someone they’d see them another time. Before you could turn the key you saw a tall man in your periphery reach the top of the stairs. You had yet to meet any of your neighbors so you decided to greet him. As you abandoned your key you turned around only to be met with one of the most attractive blue-eyed men you had ever seen. By the looks of it he was at least 6’2, broad and handsome as hell.
You took a quick breath to prevent yourself from sounding flustered, “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you said cordially to the beautiful man.
He smiled at you politely and briefly looked at you and your laundry bin. “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers,” he said kindly as he extended his hand to yours. You reached out and grabbed his large hand and felt his unsurprisingly firm grip, “I take it you’re my new neighbor?”
“Yes, I moved to the district recently for work, loving the area so far.”
“That’s great, I picked the apartment for the location myself. The only big drawback is the laundry situation,” he said as he tilted his head towards your basket.
“Yes! Oh my goodness, it’s so annoying. Do you have any tips or suggestions for places to go to nearby?”
“You’re welcome to use my machine if you want to, I couldn’t deal with the craziness after a week so I had to buy myself a washer-dryer. Do you want to do a couple loads right now? My friend just canceled our plans at the last minute, so I was thinking of doing a little baking and maybe watching a movie at home anyways.”
Wow, could this kind man be the answer to your biggest problem? He seemed nice enough and it wasn't a bad idea to make friends with your neighbors — especially when they look like that.
“Are you sure you don’t mind? Because honestly that sounds great,” you said bashfully.
“Not at all, and I’d love for you to stay for a movie too if you’re free, unless that would upset your boyfriend of course, uh, he can come too if you’d like,” he mumbled as a blush ran up his cheeks.
Smooth. Very smooth. “No, that works, and no boyfriend to upset so let’s do it, neighbor. Just give me a minute to grab some other clothes to wash. Do you need anything for baking?”
Steve looked satisfied at your response and smiled, “I don’t think so, but sure head over whenever you’re ready.”
┈┈┈┈┈・・
You stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you, taking a moment to process the meeting with your gorgeous neighbor. Talk about being at the right place at the right time. Not to mention, he was totally flirting with you.
You grabbed your extra clothes and made some Earl Grey tea with a touch of honey to take over in your thermal carafe. Before you walked over you took a second to freshen up and ensure you looked more composed than you felt. Once you were content you locked up and headed out with your hamper in one hand and tea carafe in the other.
“Hey, Y/N come on in. Did you make us something to drink?” he asked sweetly.
You handed him the container with a grin, “Yeah I'm a big tea drinker. Hope you like Earl Grey.” You took in his apartment, breathing in the delicious scent of pumpkin spice in the air, and noticed that he was very tidy and organized. He had a record player in the corner on a brown credenza and tons of books in his book shelves along the wall.
“I love it, this will pair nicely with the pumpkin muffins I've got in the oven. The laundry closet is right around the corner by the way, help yourself to whatever you need.”
“Thanks Steve, be right back.”
You put in your load of laundry and walked back to his kitchen to see him scooping what looked like chocolate chip cookie dough onto a baking sheet.
“Boy you sure are a baker, can I help with anything?” you asked as you ambled over to his kitchen counter.
Steve turned to face you, giving you a smirk, “I’m almost done, and to be honest I’m stress baking. This should all be ready in less than 15 minutes,” he said kindly.
“You wanna talk about it?” you inquired, taking a seat on one of his bar stools.
“It’s kind of silly,” he breathed out. “My friends canceled our boys night at the last minute because they wanted to go on a double date instead. They have been giving me hell over not having a girlfriend, especially with the holiday’s coming up and all of the events and weddings we have to attend.”
You nodded, “I get it, the older I get the more it seems like I need to have a boyfriend just to do simple activities with my friends — like it’s my fault I haven’t met the right guy yet,” you said. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with that though, the plus-one search is a particularly rough one.”
He looked at you with a soft smile, “Exactly — I’m actually really glad I ran into you. It’s nice to have some company after my friends ditched me,” he grinned as he popped the tray with cookie dough in the oven.
“I’m glad I met you too, Steve. I really hate lugging my laundry around the building,” you teased.
He chuckled as he pulled out the muffins, “Wanna pick out the movie for us?”
“Yeah, let’s do the opposite of romantic. Wanna watch The Invisible Man? I haven’t seen it yet.”
“I haven’t either, that sounds good. Let me grab us some mugs for the tea and we can take the muffins to the living room.”
┈┈┈┈┈・・
Steve baked like a damn pro. He made the most amazing pumpkin cream cheese muffins and the thickest gooiest chocolate chip cookies you had ever tasted. You thought you might be in love with him based on his baking skills alone.
When you got up to move your laundry to the dryer you missed the way Steve checked you out then immediately blushed at his action. He couldn’t help but find you absolutely adorable. When he saw you looking frustrated with your laundry he saw an opportunity to help; but the hopeless romantic in him wanted to do whatever he could to spend some time with the pretty girl next door.
Throughout the movie the two of you spoke about your work and interests. It turns out Steve was an artist and the upcoming wedding he was attending was for an old friend and curator that he worked with.
“We met Clint in college, and he will be the first out of our friend group to get married. I don’t think my best friend Bucky will be too far behind though, he’s already got a ring for his girlfriend Nat,” he said with a small grin.
“It’s crazy how many people are getting married, but good for them. Love is a beautiful thing, and I hope I'm lucky enough to find that someday,” you said softly.
Earlier in the evening you said you hadn’t met the right guy yet, and the more Steve got to know you, the more he hoped that you were wrong. You had already met him, and he could be just the guy you needed. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rogers. You’ve only known her for a couple of hours. Steve’s thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the dryer’s buzzer going off. Crap, is she going to leave?
Fortunately for Steve, you asked him if it was okay if you got the clothes after the movie — he couldn’t say yes quickly enough.
“I know love isn’t always sunshine and rainbows though, I mean look at this guy,” you said, gesturing to the film's antagonist. “He’s a violent and controlling stalker. His idea of love is so convoluted and ridiculous.”
“You’re not wrong, but good guys exist too. Not all men will fake a suicide and use an invisibility suit he created to terrorize your life,” Steve said with a smirk.
You laughed at that, “Good point, hard to argue with you there. The season just makes me a little bitter I suppose. I’m a whole and happy person — I'm not looking for someone to complete me, but I do want company sometimes. Like I want to go to a pumpkin patch and go on a hayride with my friends but they would rather go with their boyfriends so that they can take cute couple photos. Is it me or does the season feel romantic?” you asked rhetorically.
Steve didn’t care, he had an answer. “It’s the cold, there’s a reason Cuffing season exists and it’s purely weather based. People are colder, and the nights are darker. Also, the aesthetics of Fall are quite beautiful. I suppose that makes people want to share it with someone they love,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I hate how much your answer makes sense,” you shook your head.
You looked over when he wasn’t looking — he was so gorgeous it didn’t make sense. What I wouldn’t give to be cuffed to you this season. His eyes met yours and you felt warmer under his gaze.
“Do you want to go to a pumpkin patch with me tomorrow?” Steve blurted out. He started to rub his neck, “As friends of course, we don’t have to be a couple to have fun,” he added shyly.
You were a little disappointed he mentioned only as friends, but you knew you had just met him and that was wise. “That sounds like a blast, do you think we can go to Nightmare Barns? They have all the cutesy stuff plus haunted corn mazes and barns,” you asked hopefully.
“You took a simple idea, and you made it better. Let’s do that,” he beamed with excitement.
“Awesome, I can’t wait!”
┈┈┈┈┈・・
The following day you were more than ready to spend the evening with Steve again. You took your time getting ready and opted to wear a dark denim jacket with a white shirt, black high-waisted jeans, and combat boots — very cute and practical.
You were delighted that you met Steve because you felt a pleasant connection with him last night — he was so kind, respectful, and such a gentleman. You knew you lucked out in the neighbor department. However, you were also aware that your romantic heart liked to jump to conclusions. Just because he’s nice and good-looking doesn’t mean he’s into you. He asked to go as friends. After a little internal dialogue you decided you wouldn’t be rash; if friends were all he wanted to be, then that was what you’d be.
Before you could overthink anything further you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve wearing a navy blue flannel and dark jeans smiling softly. “Hey, Y/N, ready to head out?
Don’t tell him how good he looks, friends don’t do that. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you couldn’t help but smile. It was so easy to be friends with guys you didn’t find attractive, but Steve was literally your dream guy. Calm down, Y/N. You don’t want to scare the nice man.
“Great, is it okay if I drive us there?”
“That’d be perfect,” you breathed out, grabbing your keys and belongings from the counter.
“Wonderful, you look beautiful by the way,” he beamed as you headed out.
Oh great, he’s going to make this difficult for me. Friends compliment each other, it’s perfectly normal.
“Thanks Steve, that flannel is really working for you.” What the hell does that even mean, Y/N? Steve just grinned sweetly without saying another word.
He turned on the radio once you got in the car and the voice of Marvin Gaye melodiously played through. As he drove you thought about how comfortable you felt with him. You had known him for barely 24 hours, and still you felt a pleasant peacefulness when you were in his company.
You hadn’t been to a pumpkin patch since you were a kid. The last time you went was on a field trip in elementary school. You remembered having a blast with your friends, and you wondered why you hadn’t made the time to go back in so many years. You were grateful you had someone to go with now at least.
Steve interrupted your reminiscing, “So do you know about the attractions at the farm?”
“Yeah, I looked them up online. Looks like we’ll have a lot of options. Apparently they have different attractions based on your level of comfort with gore and horror. Do you spook easily?” you asked teasingly.
He laughed at that, “I wouldn’t have agreed to go if I did. Now you wouldn't happen to be a scaredy cat would you?” he goaded with a smile on his face.
You let out a laugh “I can hold my own, man. Don’t you worry about me,” you said confidently even though you felt a little apprehensive. It seemed like some of the attractions really were not for the faint of heart and apparently someone had a heart attack last year in one of the mazes inside a barn.
“Well if you do get scared, you have nothing to worry about — I’ll keep you safe,” he said frankly. “And if I get scared I hope you’ll do the same,” he joked.
Steve had a way of making you feel secure even when he was being silly. “You can use me as your human shield, I’ll protect you,” you said playfully.
“Aw, my fierce heroine,” he looked over and smiled at you.
“Anything for my sweet damsel in distress,” you assured. Are we flirting? This feels like flirting.
He let out a laugh, “We’re here, wow how cool is this?”
You looked out your window and were pleased to see a cute pumpkin patch that had a touch of spookiness to it. Nightmare Barns was a classic pumpkin patch on a farm that was overrun by creepy actors throughout the property. The actors were dressed as zombies, killer clowns, creepy scarecrows, and other miscellaneous horror characters. There was a divide that kept those wanting to only experience the pumpkin patch away from the scarier side. The pumpkin patch was warm and inviting despite the craziness around it, and there were stacks of hay around multiple bonfires for patrons to sit and relax by. The other side had run down trucks and tractors with overgrown plants covering them along with ominous trees and decorations near the barns. There was a giant corn maze behind everything that you could take a haunted hayride through too. The sun was about to set, and you were looking forward to seeing the place when it was finally dark because even in the light it was weirdly sinister.
As you walked towards the property you heard the sound of a chainsaw coming from inside a barn with a line outside of it. You looked up at Steve who looked calm and happy as he looked down at you. “I bought the tickets at home, and I might’ve gotten us the package that lets us go to as many attractions as we want,” he said sheepishly.
“You didn’t have to do that!” you nudged his arm. “But thank you, that was nice of you,” you said genuinely.
“My pleasure, did you want to take a few pictures at the pumpkin patch before we get into the attractions?”
“Brilliant, let’s do that.”
Steve snapped a couple pictures of you sitting on a hay stack with countless pumpkins surrounding you. You got him to take a couple of himself too which he shyly did. Before you could go, an older lady wearing a jack o 'lantern sweater stopped you and asked if she could take some pictures of the both of you. You couldn’t think of a reason to say no, so you handed her your phone. You didn’t know what to do so you stood closer to Steve and looked up with a bright smile on your face, he looked down into your eyes and matched your smile. After a beat, you couldn’t take the intensity of his gaze so you looked back at the woman who was gleefully smiling at the two of you, already done with taking the picture.
“What a gorgeous couple, here you go darling,” she commented, her smile reaching her eyes as she handed your phone back. You didn’t have the heart to correct her and neither did Steve.
“Thank you so much, ma’am. That was awfully kind of you,” Steve said so sweetly the woman couldn’t help but blush.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You and your little lady have a spooktacular evening,” she beamed.
You took a moment to look at the photo and your heart raced when you saw how captivating it was. The woman caught the sun setting directly in between you two and your matching smiles were adorable as hell.
Steve looked down at you and the photo, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Pumpkins really bring out the inner romantic in us all, huh?” he jokingly asked to break the tension. The sun was nearly gone, and the thousands of string lights strung throughout the property were slowly turning on.
You giggled, “You said it, Steve. Now let’s go look at some gore to balance us out.”
“Yes, do you want to start with the hayride first, work our way up to the scarier stuff?”
“Sounds like the perfect plan.”
┈┈┈┈┈・・
The hayride was not as easy going as you thought it would be. Actors were hidden throughout the dark corn maze and they jumped out at you with various weapons from knives, machetes, to even fully working chainsaws. At one point, a few of the actors actually jumped onto the wagon and swiped their weapons right at you; you couldn’t help but scream and lean into Steve at that. He reassuringly wrapped his arm tightly around you and kept it there for the duration of the ride. He didn’t say anything about it afterwards either.
The next attraction seemed to be inspired by a few classic films. Inside the decrepit barn there were multiple chainsaw wielding men following you and jumping out at you as you maneuvered through a maze of fake dangling body parts and grisly bloody kitchens with fake cannibals eating what was supposed to be human remains. You screamed and shouted your way through the convoluted maze hand in hand. The two of you laughed profusely afterwards critiquing how much scarier it was than the first attraction. You took a break for some hot cider then went back to the hayride again afterwards to have a more passive experience for a bit.
Later on, as you waited in line to go through the killer clown barn you felt your blood run cold when you locked eyes with your ex from college. You quickly looked up at Steve who sensed your panic and put his hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, hey what’s going on?” he asked as he looked into your eyes.
“I.. I just saw my ex, and he wasn’t a very good guy when we were together. I’m afraid he’s going to come over here and try to talk to me,” you stuttered out.
Steve pulled you into a bear hug to try to calm you, “What’s he look like?”
“Dark hair, cold brown eyes.”
“Okay, he’s heading towards us, but don’t worry, I’m here. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
You did as he asked and you felt yourself calm if only a little in the warmth of his embrace.
“Y/N, do you want me to ask him to leave?”
You took another deep breath, you looked up into his stormy blue eyes and felt yourself anchoring back to the present moment. “No, can you… just for a minute, can you pretend to be my boyfriend? I don’t want him thinking there’s a chance, or —”
“Say no more, sweetheart,” he slowly released you and reached down to hold your hand.
“Well if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N, how long has it been, sugar?” a gruff familiar voice asked you. You turned to look at Brock Rumlow and Steve gently squeezed your hand, letting you know that he was there.
“Hi Brock, not long enough,” you said with as much courage as you could muster.
“Hey don’t be like that, we had a great time. Why are you acting like we didn’t?” he yelled angrily. “I don’t know who this asshole is and I don’t know why the hell you thought you could run away from me but —” before he could finish Steve interjected.
“My girl and I were having a wonderful night before you showed up, so if you could kindly piss off that’d be greatly appreciated,” Steve snarked at the shorter man.
“Oh what, you gonna do something about it, dickhead?” Brock sneered at Steve.
You looked up at Steve and saw the way he squared his shoulders and glared at Brock. You felt Steve’s grip on your hand loosen as he was about to step closer to Brock but before he could two security guards showed up asking if there was a problem. Someone in line saw the scene and alerted security so that they could intervene before a fight broke out.
“This man is bothering us and he’s trying to instigate a fight with my boyfriend, could you please get him away from us?” you asked. Someone behind you jumped in and told the other security guard what had happened so they collectively decided to remove Brock from the premises. You thanked them as they left and didn’t bother looking as they escorted your ex away.
“Y/N, do you want to go sit by a bonfire in the pumpkin patch?” Steve asked gently.
“Um, yeah that’s a good idea.” Despite nearing the front of the line at that point, the two of you headed towards the other side of the farm.
Steve wrapped his arm around you and guided you towards a haystack next to a secluded bonfire. “I’m so so sorry, Steve, I hate that you had to deal with all of that.”
“Don’t be, Y/N, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I just thought we could use a break from the scares and take it easy for a bit.”
“Steve, I don’t know what to say. But I think I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Well, I feel like I do. I think from the looks of it you can gather that he was a piece of shit,” you paused. “He was extremely temperamental and controlling, and I… I basically ran away from him the summer after graduation. I left him a note saying I couldn’t do it anymore and moved away to another city for work. He didn’t take it well and he harassed my friends for information until he finally gave up when he realized he had no way to contact me. It’s been years, but as you can see he’s still a dick.”
“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry you had to put up with that. You didn’t deserve that. Some men can be real pricks and it isn’t right.”
You breathed a sigh of relief after telling him, “Well I guess not all men,” you said as you briefly leaned into him. “It was a chapter of my life I don’t ever reopen or try to think about, but regardless, I’m really glad you were here tonight.” You hadn’t spoken about Brock in years, but it felt incredibly cathartic to do so now — you felt free.
Steve wrapped his arm around you again and pulled you into him, you felt him kiss the top of your head, and you melted into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The two of you sat together comfortably looking at the fire and relishing the cozy warmth around you.
After a good while you peered up at Steve; he looked calm and you felt the same inside too. “Do you…” Steve met your gaze, “want to go get chased by killer clowns?” your eyes twinkled with mischief.
“I hate clowns so much, but only if you do,” he smiled softly at you.
You both headed back to the barn and the line attendant saw you coming. He saw what had happened and told you that you could skip the line since you already had to wait earlier. You were grateful and you and Steve rushed through it the best you could. Killer clowns dressed in bloodied masks with knives came at you from all different angles, this time Steve tucked you under his arm so that you could cover your eyes in his chest if you needed. The maniacal laughter and disgusting smiles were a lot to take in around every turn. One clown even sprayed you with water from his disheveled flower as you made your way through the final labyrinth. You had never screamed so much in your life, but it was actually a lot of fun. With Steve by your side you knew nothing was going to hurt you.
Once you finally made it out you took a giant breath and broke out in a fit of giggles. Steve joined you in laughter as the two of you made your way back towards the bonfires.
“It felt good to overcome something so scary,” you said once you sat down.
“That was so ridiculously scary, my hatred for clowns has only increased, but it was fun,” Steve chuckled.
“Minus the hiccup, tonight was the best, Steve. Thank you for asking me to come with you, even as friends you make a killer boyfriend,” you said softly.
Steve smiled at you joyfully, “I loved playing the role, although, I don’t know if it’s all the pumpkins or the colder weather talking, but I think I’d play the role in real life pretty well too,” he said, blushing inadvertently.
“You don’t mean that, c’mon Steve, we barely know each other,” you said even though you knew that didn’t really matter, not when you felt this good by his side.
“No you’re right, why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow morning and maybe a walk. Get to know each other better?”
“You askin’ me out on a date after knowing me for a day?
“Oh I’m not, just being neighborly,” he grinned, “It’s good to know who lives around you,” he teasingly bumped your shoulder.
“Yeah, I'd like that a lot,” you smiled.
“Perfect, and maybe next month you can be my date to a wedding?” he asked nonchalantly.
You furrowed your brow, “You think you’ll still want to hang out with me next month?”
“Y/N, I only spent a couple hours with you yesterday and I immediately wanted more time with you before you even left. Being with you, it feels right. And I know what you’re thinking — I am happy and good on my own, but you amplify my joy. You’re warm, silly and so beautiful. Tell me you don’t feel something too,” he asked timidly.
The bonfire cast a golden caramel light on his dilated pupils as he looked at you. “Oh my goodness, what have the pumpkins done to us?!” you let out a fake dramatic sigh. “Okay, Steve. Keep playing your cards right, and maybe you’ll find yourself cuffed for the event season,” you smiled as you leaned over to place a kiss to his cheek, causing him to blush at your sudden action.
He smiled brightly, his eyes never straying from yours. “If things go my way, I’ll be cuffed to you for a lot longer than that,” he whispered as he leaned over to kiss you on the forehead.
Author's Note: Hello again! This is chapter one of my new short story, "But I Do...Love You." I'm hoping to update through out the next few days, be ready for more chapters soon. I'm going to add this to my masterlist for easy access soon.
I do not consent for my work to be published on other mediums. If you'd like to do anything, please DM me first.
Word Count: 4,000 approximately
Warnings: Minor angst, mention of date rape drugs, canon level violence, and lots of sweet protective Steve Rogers! As it continues the work is going to be NSFW, smut, 18+
MASTER LIST
Chapter One: The Incident
Steve Rogers wandered into the common area of Avengers tower. It was early morning, not yet dawn, and he was starving. He’d gone on a mission last night that he’d expected to last for much longer. Instead, it had been a wild goose chase. The time change in between New York and Cairo had wrecked his system. He had lain in bed, tossing and turning for hours before hunger had dragged him to an empty refrigerator.
Why didn’t the serum prevent jet lag? Steve yawned and pulled out a carton of strawberries that looked like a good appetizer. He rinsed them and ate a few berries over the sink. From the wall of windows in the living area, light peaked over the city. He leaned against the counter and studied the sky as it was painted with colors. He finished the carton and tossed it into the trash. When he walked towards the elevators, he noticed a form curled into a ball on the couch.
Steve stopped and frowned.
“Hey, Y/N?”
He reached over and turned on the lamp. You were asleep, with your hand curled underneath your cheek. It surprised Steve to see the team’s designated hacker sacked out on the sofa. Tony Stark had brought you onto the team after the blip to work with Peter Parker and help the New Avengers initiative. Last night before his mission, he ran into you in the hallway on his way to the helipad. You’d been wearing a short red dress with a bodice that clung to your breasts like a second skin. The sight was stuck in his head ever since. Jealousy for the date you were meeting had buzzed along his nerves at each flash of memory.
You groaned at the sound of your name, but didn’t wake.
Steve ran his gaze over your body. In the dim lamplight, he could see you still wore the red dress. Your heeled sandals were beside the couch, in a pile that suggested they’d been kicked off. At the sight of the silk moulding over your curves, his mouth went dry. The same way it had last night in the hall.
“Sweetheart, wake up.”
Your only response was to flatter your eyelashes. Your eyes cracked open, and you gazed up at him through slits.
“Mmmf. No.”
You shifted on the couch, rolling onto one hip to lay on your side. That’s when he saw it. The ugly abrasions on your knees and the smear of dried blood on your lower lip.
For a second, his mind went blank. No thoughts formed just a surge of emotion. First horror, then white hot rage.
Since the day he’d met you, Steve had liked you. The way you carried yourself, the directness and innate honesty you spoke with. Those were the first things he’d loved. Despite all the tech you surrounded yourself with and your close relationship with Tony Stark, you had become one of his closest friends. The way you treated Peter with affection and built up his skills with patient guidance deepened his feelings for you.
“Shit,” Steve cursed.
Your eyes opened. “Language, Captain.”
“It’s been years since I said that.”
“It’s still funny.”
Steve was relieved when you looked at him.
“What happened? Why are your knees bruised?”
You came awake at his gentle question.
“Oh no. I fell asleep out here, didn’t I?”
“You must have. But seriously, what happened?” Steve asked.
Pushing up, you settled into a sitting position. Captain America didn’t miss your wince.
“Where else are you hurt?” Steve asked.
“I’m not sure,” you said. “I didn’t check after I fell.”
Steve’s face crumpled into an expression of acute relief.
“You fell? Thank goodness, I thought…”
Captain Rogers may have been retired from his previous role, but the lie to ‘God’s righteous man’ burned on your tongue anyway.
“Okay, so the fall may have been assisted.”
His eyebrows drew together. “You’re going to explain while I get you cleaned up. Come on.”
Your knees were weak for entirely different reasons than injury as he wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you stand. When you swayed, his grip tightened.
“Steady, doll. I’ve got you.”
Butterflies set off in your belly, fluttering up into your chest. You were so screwed. As it was, the super soldier had too much effect on you. Not reacting to him was impossible when he was unlike anyone you’d ever met. In a world filled with dishonest and unkind men, Steve Rogers was their opposite in every way.
Your first boyfriend in high school was the Jekyell and Hyde type. In public he was dreamy and charming, then cruel behind closed doors. That relationship hadn’t lasted more than a few years, thankfully. Your friends had talked you around after he’d left bruises during a house party senior year. College was a new ball game. In chronological order you had dated: a fuck boy, Mr. Know-it-All, your professor (who turned out to be married), and a serial cheater. The cheater had hurt more than any of the rest. After him, you’d taken a break from dating.
Unfortunately, your next forays into dating had been just as bad.
It was actually Captain America himself who’d inspired your date tonight. He’d come by your office with iced coffee in the afternoon. The much needed two o’clock pick me up turned into a long conversation. Steve was the best person to have long conversations with. He was easy to talk to, considerate and warm without trying to be. Who wouldn’t want to talk to him when talking with him always made everything a bit easier?
“I’ve been thinking about Peggy. About how I had the chance to go back to her last year.”
Steve swirled what remained of his coffee in the bottom of his cup. Your heart tightened at the mention of his former love.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad I didn’t go back. She found happiness without me. That’s a good thing. Besides, she built S.H.I.E.L.D. and did so much for the country. Peggy pushed the boundaries for what women could be and do at that time. If I went back, it would disrupt all that she accomplished. Because I loved her, I can’t do that. I can’t take away what she accomplished.”
You reached over to rub a hand over his forearm.
“I’m glad you’re still here. It would suck if we’d never met, wouldn’t it?”
He smiled, but it looked hesitant. You turned away. Too much - you were probably over sharing. Embarrassment heated your cheeks.
What you didn’t see was that he was struggling for his next words. Steve hadn’t planned this moment. It was a purely spontaneous confession. Now, as he struggled, he wished he’d thought this through.
“Anyway… I’ve got to go.”
Steve looked up. Perhaps he could drag out the conversation longer by accompanying you wherever you were headed.
“Where are you off to?”
“I’ve got a date.”
Just like that, he’d found himself exactly where he’d been in 1945. Too late to get the girl.
The elevator doors opened to an empty medical bay. Steve held you upright as he led you to an exam table.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Cho is at Stanford giving a guest lecture. You’re going to have to settle for me.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him.
“Do you feel like anything is broken?” he asked.
“No, definitely not. It’s just scrapes and bruises.”
“Okay. That cut on your knee needs to be cleaned out before it gets infected,” Steve said.
You sat on the edge of the table as he washed his hands. From afar, you admired his form. He wore a white button down tucked into khaki pants with a brown belt. The pants were slim fitting, and with his back turned, they offered a perfect view of his spectacular ass.
Steve lifted his eyes to the mirror just as you pulled your eyes away from his butt. Your gazes clashed in the reflection. He gave a soft smile. Your cheeks heated as you realized that he’d probably noticed you ogling his ass. Fortunately, his smile was the same one you’d come to love over the past year. But something glinted in his eyes. Something sharp and knowing passed through them, and the sight sent a quiver through your belly. He turned around with the cloth still in his hands. Wiping them, he came over to the tray he’d assembled.
“Let me take a look, sweetheart.”
He sat down on Dr. Cho’s stool and grasped your leg. First, there was distilled water to rinse it off. Then he picked up a pair of tweezers to pull out a tiny shard of glass you hadn’t realized was still embedded.
“Sorry, doll,” Steve said when you flinched.
“No, it’s okay. This would have been a lot easier if I’d taken care of it last night.”
“You could have come and found me. I wish you had.”
“I thought you would still be on your mission. And anyway, I didn’t want to bother you.”
Steve glanced up through his lashes. Then he turned to select a bandage from the tray. He turned the conversation to the topic you’d known was coming.
“Tell me about what happened. Start from the beginning, if you don’t mind. You left the tower on your date. Then what?”
For a second you scrambled. The truth was, there had been no date planned when you’d made the comment. Steve’s obvious love for Peggy had stung your heart, and you’d lied to him. So you’d texted the guy who’d given you his number a few weeks ago and asked if he was free to meet up for a drink. By pure luck, he’d been free.
“I went on it and the date was fine. Nothing special,” you said. “Nothing dramatic, either. The trouble started when I ran into someone I knew from high school.”
Steve’s shoulders bunched up. His voice was too smooth when he asked, “What trouble?”
He moved on to your other knee and was wiping antiseptic over the abrasion. You flinched, and he murmured an apology.
“So, I dated this guy in high school who wasn’t very...stable. Probably bipolar. Anyway, he stopped me at the door and re-introduced himself. Things were normal at first. We just said hello and made all the typical small talk. He asked me if I’d like to sit down and I made an excuse. When he was more insistent, I agreed.”
Here, you hesitated. Steve didn’t push. He wiped away the dried blood that had run down your leg and smeared a soothing cream over the wound. Capping the tube of ointment, he settled back on Dr. Choo’s stool and looked up at you. On the table you were taller than him, but not by much. Carefully, watching your reaction, he laid his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his hand was comforting.
“What happened?”
“My drink turned blue. Given that it was white wine, I noticed immediately.”
He frowned, confusion in his eyes.
“Rohypnol has been used as a date rape drug so often that the makers redesigned it with a blue core. If someone puts it into a clear drink, it changes color. When my wine started to look more like a Daphne Martini, I knew what was up.”
Saying it out loud made the experience more real. You’d been angry last night. So angry that you’d slapped the creep, thrown your drink in his face, and stormed out. Now fear crawled up your throat and closed off your windpipe. Breath turned shallow as you struggled for composure.
Steve stiffened.
His fingers seized on your thigh, not in a hurtful way, but enough to let you know he was angry. You could feel the emotion vibrating off of him in waves. He was furious. When he spoke, there was a strained control in his voice.
“You said you fell?”
“I threw the drink in his face and stormed out, but he followed me. We had a shoving match in the street. Despite how it looks, I won. Thanks for the self-defense training by the way. I know I said I didn’t need it but…”
The lump you’d shoved down rose to choke you. Swallowing it back, you focused on Steve’s right shoulder, looking directly at the white cotton fabric stretched over the wide expanse of muscle.
“Thanks.”
Steve stood up from the stool, towering over you. Because you knew if you looked at him you’d dissolve. You glared at his chest, trying to breathe past your clogged throat. It was tempting to give into the hysteria bubbling up. The reaction seemed silly, now that the danger had passed. It was normal to delay these kinds of emotions after a trauma, you reminded yourself. The thought didn’t make you feel any better. Slowly, Steve wrapped you up into a hug. He didn’t speak. All he did was gather you into his arms, dragging your body close, inch by inch, until he crushed you to his chest. One arm was around your shoulders and the other curled tight on your waist.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want you to ever have to use that, but I’m glad you did. You’re okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.”
The barrier holding back tears dusted to ash as easily as if Thanos had snapped his fingers.
You turned your face into Steve’s strong shoulder. Your arms snaked around him and for a moment you just held on. Then you cried. He clasped you tighter when sobs shook through your frame.
“It’s okay. Let it out,” he murmured over your hic-upped apology.
Large hands stroked your back and then rubbed upwards to dig into muscles that were corded with tension. His clever fingers massaged the discomfort. Between sleeping on the couch and crying, your back was a mess. His hands felt divine.
The opportunity to have a place as safe as Steve Rogers’ arms to fall apart in didn’t come along every day.
At that passing thought, you cried even harder. You turned your face, delving closer to his neck to find the warmth of his skin where the shirt didn’t cover. Laying your forehead against his throat, you clenched your arms around his waist. The muscles felt hard and firm. Opening your clenched fists, you spread your hands on his back to better appreciate the sensation.
Terrible emotions trembled in your chest. But Steve felt so good. He was warm and despite the terror shaking its way through you, the feeling of being sheltered by his body and his gentle hands rubbing your back was just as strong. Good balanced out bad. Steve was your friend, he was your best friend. And because he’d trained you, what happened had turned out okay. This was a normal reaction. It would pass, and then you would hold on to the fact that you’d won the shoving match outside the bar. You’d won it alone but also, you’d won thanks to Steve.
Finally, the tears left you wrung out.
You pulled back, wiping at your eyes. He pressed a tissue into your hands and you looked up at Steve’s worried face.
“Thanks,” you said, taking it.
“Anytime. Why don’t we get you back to your place? You can change and get comfortable.”
“That sounds good.”
Now that your wounds were treated, you didn’t expect him to support you. But he kept his arm snug around your waist as he led you to the elevators. The car whirled with quiet noise on its accent back to the top floors. You looked up at Steve. He had dark circles dented into his skin.
“You look tired.”
“Yeah. Jet lag. I went to Cairo on a recon mission. I cleaned out my fridge before I left thinking I’d be gone for a while, but it was a total bust.”
“Oh, you must be starving.”
“Kinda,” Steve admitted.
The elevator chimed on your floor. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“You should let me cook,” Steve said as he followed you down the hall.
Inside your apartment, Steve maneuvered you onto a stool at the breakfast bar and quickly shut down any argument about who was cooking.
“I took a few classes after I retired,” he said, opening your refrigerator. “Thank goodness someone in this tower has groceries.”
He rummaged for ingredients. You settled back to watch him work.
“How was Cairo?” you asked.
“Too hot. The mission turned up nothing and Tony whined the entire time.”
“Tony went along?”
This was a surprise. The billionaire who had once been Ironman was content in retirement with his wife and daughter. He stopped by the Tower when he was in New York but rarely went on missions.
“Yeah, it was an old Hydra base. Terrorists have been trying to get their hands on the tech they left behind. Tony was interested, and I’d much rather he have it than them.”
Steve moved the bacon to a paper towel and wiped out excess grease before he poured hash browns into the pan.
“Things here in New York were quiet?”
“They have been since Sam and Bucky took down the Flag Smashers,” you said. “Peter and I got in some training.”
Steve’s mouth curved. “Did Sam and Bucky stop by before they headed back to Louisiana?”
“Yeah. Bucky volunteered to help me with training Peter. I accepted, of course. Peter won’t know what hit him next week.”
You relaxed as conversation flowed between the two of you, telling a story about Peter’s recent training session with Hawkeye.
Both of you were laughing as you detailed the kid’s reactions to flaming arrows being shot at him. Peter was doing well in his Avenger’s training, but he was a child. Working with him was refreshing after years spent working on cybersecurity in the private sector.
Steve took the skillet pan off the stove and set it in front of you. Together you ate in companionable silence.
“Sam asked me to help him get Sharon Carter a pardon,” you said.
Steve’s head came up. “What?”
“They crossed paths in Mandipoor. She never had her record cleaned up after what happened with SHIELD. I got it started, and I heard yesterday that everything is done. I was going to tell you earlier, but it all worked out, so it slipped my mind. From what I heard from my contact at the State Department, Sharon should be able to come home as early as this Tuesday.”
“Thank you for taking care of that. If I’d known…” he broke off, shaking his head.
His eyes were distant, staring blankly at the refrigerator.
You studied him. Retirement suited Steve well. He’d kept up his training regime and his body was the same, perhaps slightly larger in the shoulders. The light blond hair was cut into a tapered style, with longer locks on the top. His lips were pouty and full, the jawline just as crisp as before he’d hidden it under a beard. Although, if he ever brought the beard back, you’d be on board with that decision. Jawline or beard… the choice was impossible.
“You can take a photo, if you’d like.”
At Steve’s teasing, you jerked. “Sorry!”
He smiled and leaned forward, his elbows braced on the counter. The position emphasised the boardness of his shoulders.
“It’s alright, doll. What’s on your mind? You looked just as lost in thought as me.”
Steve looked directly at you, his sapphire eyes pinning you down. There was a hint of something in his face that set off butterflies. He cocked his head, waiting. Your mind scrambled.
Well, Captain Rogers, I was just thinking about what a spectacular specimen of a human being you are. Have you considered growing your beard out again? I love you without it, sure, but it’s good to mix things up every now and again.
“Uh, nothing. Do you want me to get Sharon’s contact info for you?”
Your answer surprised him. The gleam in his eyes faded, and he frowned.
“No. I appreciate what Sam did for her, and I’ll probably be in touch but I don’t need her number.”
“Why not? I thought you two had a thing going on? She’s back. If you want to ask her out, you can.”
“I won’t be asking Sharon out,” Steve said. His voice was hard, so cold it dripped with ice.
This tone was one you’d heard before, but he’d never used it on you. It stung like a slap. He’d always been affectionate with you. Your mouth fell open, ready with an apology.
Steve sighed and ran a hand over his jaw before you could speak. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He shook his head, looking at you with a familiar earnest expression. “Sharon and I aren’t going to date. I’m not interested in her.”
“Was it just her connection to Peggy?”
He flinched. “Yeah. Probably.”
“Do you think you’ll ever find anyone else?” you asked, flushing.
The question was more direct than you’d normally ask, even with a friend as close as Steve.
“Yes.”
His answer was fast, given almost before you’d finished the question.
The arrow through your heart was swift. He’d met someone. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and hide your reaction. This was a good thing. Steve deserved to be happy. If you’d been less of a coward… no, it didn’t matter.
“Good. I’m glad. Yesterday I wondered.”
“Huh? What did I say yesterday?”
Steve looked like a lost puppy as you forced yourself to look him in the eye.
“Well, it was clear how much you love Peggy. I’m glad you didn’t go back in time to be with her, but your reasons were...very romantic.”
His face cleared. “Loved.”
It was your turn to be confused. “Sorry?”
“I loved Peggy. Past tense. I know my reasons for not going back were romantic - how could they be anything else? But I’ve moved on. The reason I came back is that this time feels like home to me now. I came back because I still had hope in the future and one of those hopes was that I’d meet someone to spend the rest of my life with.”
You had to smile at the speech. His delivery was impassioned, as if he were giving a pep talk to a team during halftime.
“So, who is she?”
Damn you for asking. Heartbreak was already slicing its way through your chest, but you were a masochist. The gleam came back into Steve’s eyes as he studied you. Butterflies set off again, the pain in your chest be damned. He was too special not to get flustered when he looked at you like that. A full year of exposure to him and the effect was no less potent.
Steve stood from the barstool and stepped close, his hands going to the back of your chair. You could feel the heat from his body and your heart leapt at his proximity, a helpless reaction. The stool swiveled at his gentle push as he turned the chair so he stood between your knees. Your dress was too short for this position to be modest, but his eyes stayed on yours. The cerulean depths trapped you. His large hands reached out and closed around your waist. He moved slowly and deliberately, leaning down. His eyes dropped to your mouth, and you felt a surge of heat as his pink tongue darted out to moisten his lips. Steve tugged you towards him, away from the back of the chair, so that one of his arms curled around your waist.
Feeling limp with shock, still wondering if this was a dream, you fell against his chest. Your hands flew up to catch yourself and found the hard wall of muscle under his linen button down. Fingers flexing in the material, you stared up at him.
Steve’s hands clenched, his fingers digging into your waist. His eyes were alive with emotion.
“It’s you, baby. I was able to move on because of you. I love you.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Whumptober Day 1: "bound"
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Stucky
Posted to: Ao3
Summary/Snippet:
“You said he would be safe here, Stark,” Steve hisses. “You promised him…I-I promised…”
Yes. Steve had promised Bucky he would keep him safe. Bucky is a civilian, just an ordinary human who had captured the heart and soul of a hundred-year-old super soldier and suddenly found himself thrust into a world of super villains and world catastrophes. Yet the brunette had taken it all in stride, the inherent danger that dating Captain America brought, the crazy schedule. He loved the man behind the shield, he loved Steve—and Steve loved him for it.
But it hadn’t been enough to keep Bucky safe. Not this time.
-or- Bucky is captured by Hydra and held as bait for Steve.
My first fic, and my first submission for Whumptober 2021! Read it on Ao3
