Summary: based on Hey Little Girl
A/N: it’s short, but I’m trying, lovies 💕
Tendrils of cold air slipped into your warm sanctuary and pulled you from sleep. “C’mere,” you mumbled, rolling toward your husband without opening your eyes. You groaned in displeasure when you found yourself on the floor, tangled in the sheets, instead of in his hold. Forcing your eyes open, you looked around the empty room in confusion. Although you woke up after he’d left for his jogs most mornings, it had been months since you’d woken to an empty bed in the middle of the night.
Worry invaded your thoughts and you stood and pushed your hair from your face. Steve’s nightmares had begun to fade after your wedding, and had disappearing since Sarah’s birth, but you couldn’t think of another reason he’d sneak from your bed. You walked into the hallway and turned toward the front of your apartment when whispers reached your ears.
You spun in confusion and followed the sound to your daughter’s room, leaning against the doorway when you reached it. Your husband stood beside the crib, Sarah in his arms. She was quiet, although you couldn’t tell if her eyes were closed or if she was asleep. He was singing quietly, bouncing her gently as he rocked from one foot to the other. The song was unrecognizable – you weren’t even sure the words were real.
Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, brushing the little dark hair she had away from her eyes. He leaned over the side of her crib, and she began to whine as he moved her away from his warmth. “Hey, little girl,” he whispered, holding her upright and against his chest. “You don’t need to cry, baby girl. Daddy’s here. I’m right here.” She calmed at the sound of his voice, same as he always did, and he laid her back in her crib.
“I didn’t hear her crying?” Steve turned as you spoke, a contented smile on his face.
“She wasn’t,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. “I just wanted to hold her.” Steve bent forward and picked you up in his arms, carrying you from Sarah’s room and back to your own. He laid you down on the bed, tucking you against his side when he laid next to you. “What woke you up, baby?”
“It was cold,” you answered, “and you weren’t here to warm me back up.” Steve smiled at you again, but his eyes were unfocused, a hint of worry clouding them.
Shifting only far enough to look up at him without bending your neck, you set your hand against his cheek. “What’s wrong, Stevie?”
“Nothing, baby,” he said, kissing your forehead. You frowned and he sighed deeply, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “Every night...I come home and I tell our baby girl there is more good in this world than there is bad.” He stopped talking, and you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “What happens when she grows up and finds out that I’m lying to her?”
Your heart broke and swelled as Steve spoke quietly. “With a dad like you, Stevie, she’s always going to know there is good in this world.”
A smile, this time filled with gratitude and relief, spread across his face and he pressed another kiss to your hair. “The two of you,” he whispered. “The two of you have stolen my heart and made it your own.”
Summary: Denial is part of every relationship, isn’t it?
Warning: mention of nudity
A/N: This is the continuation of Not Really Anyway
“I love you to the moon,” he murmured against your lips, hands loosely holding your waist.
Smiling and pulling away from him, you rested your forehead on his before you spoke. “I love you to the moon and back,” you paused only a moment before continuing. “Stevie, did you know that the heart creates enough energy to drive a truck twenty miles? In an average life time that’s enough energy to drive that truck to the moon and back.”
He laughed quietly as you rambled and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Does that mean something?”
“It means I love you with every beat of my heart. I am yours, and I always will be.”
Happy hums reached your ears and his lips pressed lazily back to yours. “How about I keep you here in my arms and in my bed all day and prove to you that I feel the same? I am yours, and I always will be.”
– – –
Steve woke before you, your still bare bodies tangled together beneath the sheets. He brushed your hair away from your face, tracing his fingers across your cheekbone. You began to stir and he pressed his lips to yours until you sleepily returned his kiss. His hands traced down you back and grabbed your ass, dragging a moan from your lungs. Your breathing was uneven when he finally pulled away from you, smiling as you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. “Hi,” you giggled.
“Hi,” he said, carefully carding his fingers through you hair. “I have question for you.”
“Does it involve where I keep the condoms?”
His jovial laughter filled the room and he shook his head. “We’re in my room, and I know where I keep the condoms,” he teased, his eyes growing soft as they roamed your face, seeming to search for something.
“What is it, Stevie?”
“Why did you tell Natasha I’m not your boyfriend?”
Panic invaded your mind and you dropped your wide eyes away from Steve’s, setting your knuckles against his stomach. “That’s-that’s because you’re not,” you answered lamely.
“Really?” You could hear the smirk in his voice and your lungs relaxed at the reassurance your denial hadn’t caused him pain. “Are you sleeping with someone else then, doll?”
“No!” Your eyes snapped up to his and you flattened your palms against his skin. “You know I’m not,” you continued, your voice growing quieter.
“Well, that’s good,” he said, a grin spreading across his face as he leisurely pressed his lips back against yours, “because neither am I and I think that makes me your boyfriend.”
“You’re mine, but you’re not that.”
His eyes sparkled with humor and his smile grew bigger. “Your boyfriend, you mean?”
"That’s what I said, Stevie.”
He chuckled, his hand tracing down your side and wrapping around your hip. “No,” he said quietly, “it’s not.” His head dipped and he pressed his lips just beneath your ear. “Can you even say the word boyfriend, doll?”
Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips trailed lower, pausing to nip at your pulse, his tongue easing away the momentary pain. You moaned and traced your hands up his chest, digging your nails into his skin as he gripped your thigh and hitched your leg around his waist. He rolled to pin your arms to the bed above your head and his lips left your skin as he hovered over you. “Can you?”
“Can I?” you breathed, opening your eyes just enough to look up at him through your lashes. His pupils were blown and his eyes were trained on your lips.
“Say the word boyfriend,” he asked, leaning down to ghost his lips against yours. He pulled away again and you whined, struggling to chase him. “Just say it.” You tried to arch your body toward his, desperate to feel him against you, and groaned in frustration when he moved father away from you. “Can you say it, baby?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. Your breathing became heavy as Steve ground his hips against yours, taunting you as you moaned and fought uselessly against his hold. “Show me you aren’t ashamed?"
Red lights flashed through the room and Steve’s hands and heat disappeared. You pushed yourself onto your elbows, watching at Steve searched the ground for his boxers. "Avengers,” a mechanical voice spoke. “Report to Hanger A immediately.”
Sighing in displeasure, you dropped yourself against the bed and pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes. You listened as Steve crossed the room and then his lips pressed softly against yours. “To be continued, doll,” Steve mumbled as he pulled away. “Right now, let’s save the world.”
– – –
“Roll call!” Tony’s voice crackled over the line and you almost laughed, dropping toward the ground to dodge another fist and swinging your leg around to catch the man’s ankle. You rolled on top of him, wrapping your hand around his wrist and knocking his hand against the floor until the gun skittered across the concrete. The sound echoed around the small room and you frantically crawled off him, digging your knee into his nose as you stood.
Natasha
The black clad agent pushed himself off the ground and ran toward you, stumbling to a halt when you jumped into the air and over his arms. You landed on his back, deftly pushing your heel against his spine and flattening him on the floor again. He grabbed your ankle as you stepped off him and closer to the gun, pulling you down next to him.
Sam
Reaching back toward him, you scratched as his face, feeling your nails break skin. He cried out in pain and you scurried away when his hold on you loosened. Your fingers wrapped around the gun and you spun onto your back as the man towered over you. You pulled the trigger without hesitation and rolled to the side as his body collapsed.
Clint
“(Y/n),” you gasped, your chest heaving as you stood up and checked the gun’s magazine, relieved to find it almost full. You walked from the room, listening and aching to hear his voice. The silence continued to drag on and you began to walk faster, fear squeezing the air from your lungs.
“Captain?” It was Natasha’s voice, laced with concern, and you began to run.
“Does anyone have eyes on Rogers?” Tony’s words rang in your ears as you twisted through the halls, desperate to find your way back to where you had kissed Steve goodbye and chased after the man you had just killed. You rounded another corner and the hallway floor faded into a catwalk. Grunts and thuds drifted around the warehouse sized room and you crouched, slipping onto your toes as you crept forward slowly.
Steve was directly beneath the catwalk, his head hanging low as two men held him up, a third beating him. Anger flared in your chest and you pulled the com from your ear, crushing it between your fingers, not in the mood for a lecture about reckless behavior. Straightening, you stepped onto the railing and tipped over. You landed softly behind the man beating Steve and set the barrel of your gun against the base of his neck.
“Get the fuck away from my boyfriend,” you growled. He stiffened and you watched the other men drop Steve’s arms. The man on the left stepped forward and you pulled the trigger, tilting your wrists to shoot the others before the first had crumpled.
Your grip loosened as your anger faded into fear and the gun clattered to the ground when you rushed toward Steve, who had slumped forward. You fell to your knees in front of him, taking hold of his face and lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Stevie?” you asked, dread filling your voice as you pushed his bloody hair away from his eyes. “Baby?”
A faint breath escaped his lungs and he struggled to open his eyes as his lulled to the side. “You called me your boyfriend,” he wheezed.
“Mhm, I did, baby,” you said, tears streaming down your cheeks as relief washed through you. “Stevie, baby, where are you hurt? Did they shoot you?” You began to run your hands over every inch of his body, feeling for cuts, bruises, and broken bones.
He struggled to hold his head up on his own, a weak smile on his face as his eyes slowly focused on you. “You called me your boyfriend,” he repeated again.
“That’s because that’s what you are, Stevie. You are my boyfriend,” you said, a giggling sob slipping past your lips. “Where is blood coming from, baby? Were you shot?”
“You called me your boyfriend,” he mumbled, his eyes glazing over again as he stared past you and you pushed his hair up his forehead again.
“Yes,” you said, exasperation leaking into your voice to mingle with adrenaline fueled concern and mind numbing happiness. You crawled beneath his right arm and pulled him to his feet. “Are you going to keep repeating that? Did they hit your head, baby? Where is the blood coming from?” He leaned heavily on you and you staggered from the room, Steve muttering incoherently as his head drooped against yours.
Rushing footsteps bounced off the walls and you stiffened before Natasha’s frantic shouts reached your ears and she skidded around the corner. “Oh, hell,” she whispered, rushing forward and wrapping Steve’s left arm around her shoulders and taking some of his weight from you. “Is he okay? Where is all the blood coming from?”
“He can’t focus enough to–”
“She called me her boyfriend.” Steve sounded like a child and you sighed.
“I did call you my boyfriend, Stevie,” you repeated patiently, “but can you tell us where the blood is coming from?”
Summary: Sometimes the past can hurt, and Steve tries to help you see that it will be okay someday
Warnings: past mentions of abuse, panic attack
A/N: I’ve been very open with all of you about my past abusive relationship. I wrote this fic a while ago as a way to work through a very real fear I have of being triggered by an event that shouldn’t trigger me and causing someone I love pain because of it. This fic is very personal and, originally, I hadn’t planned to post it, but after my beautiful anon reached out for advice, I decided it was appropriate.
Please, if you are in or have been in an abusive relationship, do not hesitate to reach out for help. I am always here if any of you need to talk, about absolutely anything.
Both of you were shouting. You knew Steve was right, you had been reckless, but with adrenaline still running through your veins, you couldn't bring yourself to back down. Instead you just fought, pointless anger filling your faces.
"You could have died!"
"Well, good thing I didn't! I can take care of myself, Captain America."
"Risking your life on a mission is a shitty way to prove that!"
"What was I supposed to do, Steve? I didn't have any other options!"
"There's always an option that doesn't involve me having to bring home a body at the end of the day!”
Pain laced his voice and regret rushed through your blood, your fury fading. Your lungs tightened as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice soft.
"Can we just…" his eyes fell to the floor and his shoulders slouched, "…not fight?" Steve took a defeated breath and closed his eyes, shoving his hands into his pocket. He moved forward abruptly, reaching to wrap you in his arms, and you flinched away involuntarily, an angry voice echoing through your mind as a whine fell from your lips. Confusion and hurt flashed through his eyes before understanding washed over his face. "Oh, hell," he muttered. "(Y/n)…"
No one could ever love someone like you.
"I-I'm sorry," you mumbled, your knees giving out. Steve lurched forward to catch your arms as you collapsed and the sudden motion caused you to whimper. He quickly dropped your arms, not wanting to scare you more than he unwittingly had.
Just kill yourself and get it over with.
"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," Steve said, careful not to move quickly as he knelt on the ground next to where you were curled into yourself. "I should have realized." Tears began to stream down your face and you stared forward. "You are safe here, doll," he said, voice pleading as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. Your eyes frantically roamed the room before Steve's gaze caught yours.
Blue.
His eyes were blue, not brown.
A sob tore through your body and you reached desperately for Steve, who responded immediately. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. His fingers began to weave through your hair. "It's okay, doll," he whispered against your temple. "I've got you. You're safe, baby."
Your lungs ached as your breathing tore raggedly through your chest. "I-I," you struggled to speak. Steve hushed you, pressing his lips to your temple while he began to rock slowly. "I-I know," you started again, forcing out the words, "you wouldn't…”
"Just breathe, baby," Steve mumbled, pressing another kiss into your hair, "I know." You fisted his shirt in your hand, hiding in his chest. He held you tighter, whispering sweet nothings into your ears. Your breathing slowed as you focused on his voice, and your cries began to quiet.
Neither of you bothered to move, too desperate to continue holding the other. His hands were lost in your hair and you were still clinging to him. Your mingled breathing filled the suddenly quiet room. You sat for what felt like hours before Steve stood slowly, keeping you cradled in his arms, and carried you to the couch. "I love you so much," he whispered against your skin, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"You were right," you said quietly, pulling away only far enough to look up into his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Steve."
"Me too, baby," he said, resting his forehead against your own and trailing his fingers across your hip. "I was just so scared…I can't lose you – I'm not strong enough – but I shouldn't have shouted."
"As far as I can remember you weren't the only one shouting." His laughter was dry. You hid your face against his shoulder again, tears burning at your eyes again as you thought about what you had put your boyfriend through. "Thank you." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped he hadn't heard.
"For what?"
"Staying," you admitted after a silence. "I-I know I'm not easy to be with after everything that's happened, and it's not fair to you and–"
He cut off your words with a gentle kiss, shifting you on his lap so he could hold you closer. "I will always stay, baby. Every part of me wishes I had been there to stop him from doing what he did to you, but what he did can't stop me from loving you, all of you, with all my heart. I am hopelessly, completely, recklessly, dangerously in love with you, (Y/n) (L/n), and nothing is going to change that."
Summary: Based on Piece by Piece
Warnings: one swear, abandonment theme
Six years old
Their voices echoed around the house, filled with rage. You were hidden beneath your desk, head between your knees and arms wrapped around yourself. Something crashed and you flinched, pulling your blanket over your head. His words grew louder, fueled by fury. Tears began to slip down your cheeks.
“You just fuck everything up! You-you and that daughter of yours!”
“Then why the hell are you still here?”
It grew quiet after your mother’s words.
“I’m not.”
– – –
Ten years old
“Waverly, (Y/n),” Bruce said softly, grabbing your mother’s attention. “Lunch is ready.”
Standing up, you brushed the dirt from your jeans and ran toward Bruce. “What’s for lunch today, Banner?” you asked, taking the hand he held out to you and trying to sound like your mother did when they discussed whatever they were staring at under their microscopes.
“Stew and mealie,” he answered with a smile as you ducked into the small building you were living in while he and your mother researched a virus rapidly spreading through the villages nearby. You dropped his hand, squealing in happiness and rushing to the makeshift table in the center of the room. Mealie was a luxury, and you were excited.
Bruce sat at the head of the table beside you and your mother settled across from you. “Do you want lessons today, princess?” your mother asked.
“Can daddy teach me?” you asked, reaching across the table and grabbing for the bread. Bruce smiled down at you as he filled your bowl. After your father walked out, he and your mother started working together. They had never been more than colleagues, but you were eight when you’d first called him dad. That first time it had been an accident, and your mother had apologized over and over. He just started laughing, insisting it was alright. It wasn’t an accident after that.
“What’s today, Waverly?” he asked your mother.
“Chemistry,” she answered, pouring stew into her own bowl. “You’re good–” your mother was cut off when a cough tore through her chest, “good with those lessons.”
“Are you alright, momma?” you asked, looking at Bruce with wide and frightened eyes.
“I’m fine, princess,” she answered, taking a deep breath and resting her hand against her chest. “Just fine.”
– – –
Twenty-three years old
Cold air whipped at your arms as you stood across the street from the tower. You had been standing in the cold for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d come to the tower to visit Bruce, but it was the first time you’d come as his employee instead of his daughter. Another shiver ran through your body as you leaned against the wall behind you.
“You’d probably be warmer inside, princess.” His voice surprised you.
“Damn it, Banner,” you said, turning toward him with a hand on your heart.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, laughing quietly as he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. “I figured you’d seen me come over.”
Holding the jacket tighter around your shoulders, you giggled. “How long have been here?”
“Long enough,” he answered. Bruce slung an arm over your shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“What am I doing, dad?” you asked. Your voice cracked and you realized you weren’t just shaking from the cold. “I don’t deserve to be here... Tony only hired me because of you.”
His quiet chuckles reached your ears and you glared at him through the corner of your eye. “Princess,” he said, tucking you into his side. “You just graduated from NYU at the top of your class with a Master’s in Chemical Engineering.” There was still doubt in your eyes and he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Anyway,” he added, “Tony choose you long before he knew you were my daughter.”
Your eyes grew wide and you looked up at him in surprise. “Really?” you asked quietly.
“Yes, princess,” he told you, dropping his arm from your shoulders and taking your hand. Neither of you spoke as you let him pull you across the street and into the tower. He didn’t break the silence until you stepped onto the elevator and it lurched up. “You deserve to be here, and it has nothing to do with me.”
“I love you, daddy,” you said quietly, dropping his hand and winding your arms tightly around his waist.
“I love you too, princess,” he said. You let go as the elevator slowed and you felt Bruce squeeze your fingers. “Ready?”
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I, dad?”
Bruce began laughing as the elevator doors opened. “What’s so funny, Banner?” Tony’s voice drifted through the large room and you felt a nervous blush fill your cheeks. You stayed behind Bruce when you stepped out of the elevator and Tony’s eyes lit up. “It’s the baby Hulk!” he cried out in joy, walking over and ruffling your hair.
“Tony,” you whined. “You know Bruce isn’t my biological dad. I’m no more a baby Hulk than you’re an actual iron man.”
“Whatever you say, baby Hulk,” Tony said, smirking and tossing you a wink. You groaned in annoyance, but followed when he motioned. “I know it’s your first day and all, but I’ve never really been one for easing the interns in, so you’re going to be working with aluminum hydride and rocket fuel today. Think you can handle it?
A smile had spread across your face before he’d finished and you were nodding enthusiastically. “Definitely, Tony,” you said, excitement lacing your voice. Grinning, Tony pointed to the opposite corner of the lab and you spun around, already rushing away.
Two steps and you collided with something warm and solid and stumbled backwards. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited to feel the solid ground beneath you before you felt large hands grab your waist and steady you. “I-I’m so sorry, ma’am,” a voice stuttered.
“My fault,” you said, opening your eyes to be met with two bright blue ones. “I-I wasn’t paying attention.” His hands were still on your waist, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you paused to stare at him, “f-for catching me, I mean.”
“Of course,” he said. “I haven’t seen you around.” It came out as more of a question than a statement.
“I just started work today,” you answered.
Tony cleared his throat. “Which is what you should be doing,” he said. The blond man quietly took his hands from your waist and dropped his eyes from yours. You scurried away, keeping your eyes on the floor and away from the man. “What do you need, Cap?”
Your eyes grew wide as you fiddled with the equipment Tony had set up on the table he’d directed you to. You ran a hand nervously through your hair. Not only had you awkwardly flirted in front of your father, but you’d awkwardly flirted with Captain America in front of your father.
“Uh,” Steve stammered, his eyes were glazed over. He shook his head, “M-my shield?”
“Right here, Steve,” Bruce said, his voice filled with humor.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Steve said. A moment later you heard a crash and looked up to see the ground covered in broken test tubes, embarrassment etched onto Steve’s face as he stared at the mess.
“S-sorry,” he said again. “I-I didn’t see the table.” You couldn’t help but laugh and you bit your lip to try to muffle the sound. Steve’s eyes flashed to you and his cheeks colored as he smiled shyly.
“It’s okay, lover boy,” Tony sighed. “I’ll get Dum-E to clean it up. Just don’t break anything else.” Steve nodded, his cheeks still pink, and turned to walk from the room, managing to run into the door on his way. “Well,” Tony said, “that was interesting.”
“As you father,” Bruce said, glancing up from the papers in his hands to watch you over the edges of his glasses, “I’ll never think anyone is good enough for you,” you sighed dramatically, dropping your head onto the table in front of you, “but Steve is probably the closest anyone will come.”
– – –
Twenty-four years old
Bruce was sitting at his desk, staring intently at the papers in front of him. You glanced at the ring on your finger, shoving your left hand into your pocket before walking across the lab. Wrapping your right arm around Bruce and hugging him loosely, you set your chin on his shoulder and pressed your cheek to his. “Hey, daddy?” you hummed.
“Princess?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the paperwork in front of him.
“I-I know you’re not my biological dad,” you started, and Bruce set down the highlighter he’d been using, taking your right hand in his before standing up and turning to face you, “but you’re the closest thing I-I’ve ever had and I really don’t want it to be any-any other way...” Trailing away, you dropped your eyes down to your hand still held in his.
“Where is this going, princess?” Bruce asked, anxiety edging into his voice.
“Steve...” you took a deep breath, “Steve asked me to marry him, daddy. I-I know you already know because he asked permission and you told him he was an idiot for it because I’m not the old fashioned type and-and daddy?”
“Yeah, princess?” he asked, a smile spreading across his face as he realized you weren’t upset, but nervous.
“Will you walk me down the aisle, daddy?”
Euphoria filled his eyes as he stared at you, nodding. “As your father,” he said, his voice watery, “I really don’t want it to be any other way either.”
– – –
Twenty-five years old
You couldn’t breathe. Your vision began to blur as you stared at the white stick in your hands. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a mother, but you couldn’t be a mother. Echoes of your father’s words rang through your ears and you felt sick.
The test bounced off the wall when you threw it, and you desperately gasped for air as you stood up and walked from the room. You wandered through the halls on autopilot, your arms wrapped around your shaking body. “Hey, baby...” trailed away when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks and he quietly slipped from the room.
Bruce jerked out of his chair, rushing across the room and wrapping his arms around you. He lead you carefully toward the couches and lounge Tony had insisted was necessary as you began to sob. His hands began to rub comforting circles in the small of your back as he sang the lullaby you mother had taught him all those years before in Africa. You began to cry harder, curling into the fetal position on his lap, gripping his shirt in your fists. He hadn’t seen you this broken since your mother’s funeral when you were twelve.
Your cries began to die and you snuggled into to Bruce’s side, shifting to wrap your arms around him and pull yourself closer to him. “Do you want to talk about it, princess?”
“I-I,” your voice cracked and tears fell from your eyes again. Bruce hushed you and began to play with your hair. You took a deep and shaking breath, “I’m pregnant, Daddy.”
His heart swelled and then clenched at your news. “Does Steve not want kids, princess? What did he say to you?”
“N-n-no,” you said, still gasping as you tried to keep from crying, “b-but Daddy... w-what if-if I end up l-like him?”
Understanding washed over Bruce and he pulled you onto his lap, holding you tightly as he began to rock slowly. “Oh, princess,” he said quietly. “You are never going to be like him. You fell so far from the tree.”
“W-what if I-I hurt it, Daddy?” you asked, your voice choked and thick.
“You are going to be an amazing mother, princess,” he whispered, smoothing your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just like yours.”
– – –
Twenty-six years old
Steve stood in the middle of the room, bouncing your daughter in one arm. He was cooing at her, making silly faces as he tickled her sides. You were leaning against the door, watching him. “Do you know how lucky we are, princess?” he said quietly. “See, we have your momma and she is just an angel.” Your daughter giggled in his arms. “I knew I was gonna marry her as soon as I saw her. There’s never been a momma as kind as yours, Sarah. She doesn’t believe me, but she’s pretty perfect.”
He started to sing nonsense as Sarah’s noises died away. You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you watched your husband lean down to place your daughter in her crib. Steve’s eyes widened and you hurried to brush the tears from your eyes as he rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The ground disappeared from beneath you when he lifted you into his arms and carried you from the room, closing the door quietly with his foot. It was silent as he carried you into the living room, neither of you wanting to wake the little girl he had finally managed to rock to sleep.
“Doll, what’s wrong?” he asked as he sat down on the couch, turning you in his lap so you had a leg on either side of him.
Winding your arms around his neck, you nuzzled into the croook of his shoulder. “I love you so much, Stevie,” you mumbled against his skin.
His lips pressed to your temple and you felt them bend into a smile. “I love you so much, (Y/n),” he said. “You are my universe – you and Sarah. Nothing is ever going to take either of you away from me. My heart belongs to you.”
Giggling, you moved away from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. His hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the few tears still on your face. “You’re an amazing father, Stevie. I always knew you would be.”
“And you’re an amazing mother,” he answered without hesitation. “I always knew you would be.” He kissed you softly and you sighed against his lips, melting into his hold. “We should sleep before Sarah wakes up,” he said and you nodded in agreement.
“Carry me to bed, Stevie?” you asked, holding tight to his neck and burying your head against his chest, which began to shake with laughter.
Instead of answering, he just stood and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me carrying you to bed for the rest of your life, (Y/n).”
Summary: The ‘we kissed for the sake of the mission but you’re really hot and I guess I got carried away and oops we’re both naked’
Warnings: language, almost smut
A/N: Based loosely on this scene. Special shout outs to @vibraniumtchallas and @missnerdiness for inspiration, feedback, and tips when I shared my plans
The ring fit surprisingly well. “We don’t need to actually take the files?” you asked, flinching when Natasha shoved another pin into your hair.
“No,” she answered, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she continued to pile your head on your head. “All we need is an address, we just don’t know which file it’s in.
“And why are Steve and I married?” You eyed the ring on your finger again.
“Because you and Steve eye fuck each other too often for anyone to believe you’re not married.”
You sighed and stood up as she finished; you had given up arguing with her months ago. “Will I have a gun?” you asked, standing in front of the mirror and straightening the red dress you were wearing.
“Shouldn’t need one, no guards,” Natasha said, walking toward the door. “It’ll be an easy mission. In and out – maybe an hour tops.”
– – –
It hadn’t take you long to lose Steve in the mess of suits and gowns. He’d murmured something about finding the office Fury had mentioned and pressed a kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. Now you were standing across from a man in his twenties. He had introduced himself when he had first sauntered over to you, but you had flashed your wedding ring and quickly forgotten. Your eyes scanned the room as he talked, annoyance setting in when you failed to spot Steve.
“May I cut in?” Your spirits lifted when you heard his voice and you relaxed instantly.
“My husband,” you explained, motioning to Steve when questioning filled the eyes of the man speaking to you. “Please excuse me.” You turned away and set a soft hand on Steve’s bicep. “James, darling?”
“Dance with me?” he asked with a smile, taking your hand in his and pulling you away before you could respond. Steve held you flush against his body and began to move across the floor. One hand was pressed against the small of your back and the other held your own tightly. He wound his fingers through yours. You could feel heat in your cheeks and reminded yourself to breathe when Steve’s lips dropped to your ear, brushing against your skin. “No cameras,” he whispered, his breath tickling your neck. “Office in the back hall.”
You giggled and looked up at him, surprised when he just smiled adoringly down at you. Six months ago he still struggled with undercover work – to put it lightly. He held you closer and his scent overwhelmed you. Steve continued to dance and neither of you spoke, either unwilling to break the moment or unable to think of anything worth saying. His forehead rested against yours and your eyes fluttered closed. The music began to die. “Ready?”
“Ready,” you answered, both surprised and proud of how steady your voice sounded.
Steve let his hand fall from your back, but kept your fingers tangled with his as he dragged you away from the dance floor, glancing casually over his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm tightly around your waist and pulled you into his chest. “Third door on the left.” Your head was spinning. His hold loosened, but he kept you tucked into his side as you approached the door. You watched the end of the hall while he slipped inside first, only stepping in after you were sure no one had followed you.
Open files were spread across the desk and you watched as Steve sifted through the papers, your head still spinning from dancing. It wasn’t a dangerous mission, and you weren’t worried about working slow. There was no security, only drunken party goers who would be more of an annoyance than a threat. “Anything?” you asked quietly, sorting through the half nearer you.
“Not yet,” he answered, “but we have time.” Yet as he spoke, you heard footsteps fill the hallway and stiffened. Steve glanced at the door, and then around the room.
Bookcases covered the walls, leaving no nooks to tuck yourself inside. Two chairs sat alone in the corner, but they weren’t big enough to hide you, let alone Steve. No doors lead off to connecting rooms to disappear through. There was no where to hide.
Steve caught your eyes and you stared at each other with panicked eyes. You surged toward him and grabbed the lapels of his suit. The footsteps stopped outside the door as you kissed him. He stood stiffly, his arms still by his side. “If you don’t kiss me back, we’re going to get caught,” you whispered frantically, pulling away from him. His gaze had dropped down when you’d begun to speak and his eyes were trained on your lips. “Steve.”
His name fell from your lips and his hands were on your hips, the bookshelf was against your back, and his lips were on yours. He kissed you desperately, pressing his body to yours. You gasped in surprise, and he took the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Your moan was stifled by his lips.
The door creaked open and Steve pushed you harder against the bookshelf, one hand grabbing your knee to hook around his hip. You struggled to breathe when he pulled away and began to run his lips from your jaw to your collarbone. Your hands ran up his chest and you dragged your nails back down. His breathing hitched and he ground into you.
“Oh, Steve,” you whimpered when his fingers began to knead into the bare thigh he held and he returned to kissing your lips. The door slammed closed as Steve sucked your bottom lip between his. He bit softly, letting it slip slowly from between his teeth, and set his forehead against yours. Your leg fell through his fingers. Then his heat was gone.
Taking a slow and unsteady breath, you opened your eyes. He stood at the desk, hunched forward with his hands gripping the edge. You wanted those hands back on you. “Steve?”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look at you when he spoke. You quietly walked closer to him, watching as he began to sift through the papers again.
“Really?” you asked, ghosts of his fingers sparking your courage. “Because I’m not.” You set a hand on his back and watched as the tension leaked from his muscles. He turned to face you.
“Neither am I,” he admitted, and he was kissing you again. He bent to grab your legs and lifted you in the air, spinning to set you on the desk behind him. “Holy hell, neither am I.”
All you could feel was Steve. Hands trailing up your thighs, hot lips pressed against yours, firm chest beneath you. He tasted like chocolate and smelled like home. Warm fingers dug into your hips and you arched toward him, desperate to feel more of him. Your hands moved up his chest, tangling in his hair. You pulled softly and he groaned against your lips, his grip on you growing tighter as he ground against you.
Steve stepped closer and the sounds of papers crumbled beneath you reached your ears. He was kissing your neck again, sucking deep purple marks against your pulse. “W-w should read the files,” you managed to breathe, your eyes closing as your head rolled back to give him more access.
“I already read the files.” He didn’t hesitate to answer and kept his lips against your skin.
“You-you couldn’t have possibly read a-all the files,” you mumbled. His kisses trailed toward your chest, and he growled when you weakly breathed his name. He began to push your dress higher and you mentally begged yourself to stop talking.
“Super soldier serum, doll,” he said. He finally returned his lips to yours and you moaned, your nails raking down his back. “Fuck,” he whined against your lips.
Your skirt had reached your hips and you decided he was still wearing far too much. Your hands ran up his chest to his arms, pushing his jacket from his shoulders. His hands left your skin just long enough to let it fall to the ground. He was touching you again, his hands running up from your knee to your waist and kneading into you.
His body pressed closer to you and you slid farther onto the table. Files fell to the ground and Steve pulled his lips reluctantly from yours, pecking them before resting his forehead against yours. You were both breathing erratically. “We-we should, uh,” you mumbled, desperately trying to think of anything other than his fingers on your skin and his lips against yours. There was something you should have been thinking about.
“Of course,” Steve’s voice broke into your thoughts and his hands dropped from you, leaving you aching for them again. “Uh, the files.” You slipped from beneath him and walked to the other side of the room, pulling your dress back down around your legs.
“Right,” you said, your breathing finally slowing, but your heart still racing. “The-the files,” you turned to face him and found him already staring at you, ignoring the papers on the desk behind him. You began to pace, still watching him as you did.
“We can control ourselves,” he said, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to fix it. You unconsciously copied him. He had pulled enough hair down that you simply removed the pins Natasha had shoved in, letting it gather loosely around your shoulders. “We are professionals.” His voice was growing quieter and his eyes were wandering hungrily over your body.
“Exactly!” you cried out, throwing your arms into the air and coming to a stop. You turned to face him, resting your closed fists on your hips. “We’re not bunnies.
Despite your words, there was a fire still burning in his eyes. His tongue darted out and wet his lips. Lust and desperation flitted through his eyes. The silence continued to stretch and Steve took a slow breath. “Ah, fuck it,” he abruptly said, taking large steps forward.
You were walking toward him before you realized you were moving. He bent to grab you thighs and you responded instantly, jumping and wrapping your legs around his waist as you collided. His lips were urgent against yours and you felt the bookcase connect roughly with your back. “Why don’t you fuck me instead, Captain?”
He growled against your lips and your hands ran down the front of his shirt, frantically tearing at the buttons. “Try and stop me.”
– – –
Natasha was lounging on your bed when you walked through your bedroom door, having left Steve in the garage with a kiss and a promise for more. “Where the hell have you been?” she whined, spreading out dramatically on your bed. “It’s been four hours. I had to watch Game of Thrones by myself!”
Haphazardly stripping off your dress, you walked to your closet. “It took us a while to sneak away and there were hundreds of pages to read through,” you said casually. You pulled on the oversized shirt you’d stolen from Steve two months before.
“Why is your hair down?” she asked suddenly, smirking as she lifted herself up on her elbows.
“Because Steve fucked me until I couldn’t walk,” you answered sarcastically, collapsing onto the bed next to her.
Her laughter filled the room and she rolled over to throw her arm across your stomach. “You know, if he did, Sam and I would have someone to double with.” You were surprised she hadn’t seen through your lie – or, more precisely, lack of one.
“Maybe someday,” you answered, turning on your television. “You okay rewatching tonight’s episode?”
“Hell yes.”
– – –
There were a couple people I tried to tag, but wasn’t able to! If you have asked to be tagged and are not, please send me a private message :)
Summary: Secrets always come out and you get caught with some very visible evidence of yours
Warnings: heated kissing, literally all the language
The quinjet landed roughly and jostled you from sleep. You’d been on the jet seventeen hours, and asleep for the majority of them. It had always been hard for you to sleep during missions, and you relished the peace that came as soon as you stepped onto the jet after each one. You would often sleep through entire flights home.
You stumbled off the jet in a daze, looking around in the hopes of finding someone waiting for you. Your mission had taken you away from the tower almost two weeks and you had missed your make-shift family more than you’d ever admit. The hanger was empty and you dropped your bag on the ground with a sigh. “Welcome home, Miss (Y/l/n),” F.R.I.D.A.Y. greeted you.
“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said with a weak smile, surprisingly comforted by the AI’s electronic voice. You started down the hall to your room, eyes half open, when arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the dark. Your body tensed before you recognized his cologne and relaxed into his chest. “Really, Steve?” you asked, stifling a laugh. “A closet? Are we fifteen?”
“Maybe I just couldn’t wait,” he answered, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “I missed you.”
His arms dropped and you turned to face him, although you couldn’t see him. “I missed you too.” Steve’s hands found your waist in the dark and he backed you against the wall, his knee sliding up between your legs to hoist you off the ground. A small noise of pleasure fell involuntarily from your lips and his hands ran up your thighs. His fingers teased beneath the hem of your shirt and your body felt like fire. “Are you going to kiss me or not, Rogers?” you asked breathlessly.
“Impatient, doll?” he asked with a laugh, dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. A strangled breath escaped your lungs and he growled against your skin. You ran your hands through his hair, tugging on it gently, and he moaned. Another step brought him flush against you. He pressed his lips roughly to yours, biting your lip.
You groaned again and ran your hands beneath his shirt, rolling your hips down into his and he hissed against you. The heat of his body suddenly disappeared and you felt his hands straightening your clothes before you heard him fix his own. “Finished already, Captain?”
“Hell no, but a bed is a bit more comfortable than a wall,” he whispered, pressing a kiss below your ear.
“Always the gentleman.”
– – –
He was asleep when you woke up the next morning, and you slipped silently from his arms. Your clothes were strewn throughout the room and, despite diligent searching, your pants were no where in sight. Surrendering and pulling one of his shirts over your head with a sigh, you left the room, praying no one would be around to see.
The tower was quiet and you made it back to your own apartment two floors up without hassle. His shirt was added to the growing collection you kept tucked into a drawer and hidden away. It gave him something to wear the nights you ended up tangled with each other in your room instead of his.
The water was colder than you expected when you stepped into the shower, but it was a welcomed change. Steve radiated heat. When you slept through the night together, blankets were never a necessity. You shook your head, hoping to knock him from your thoughts. In front of everyone but Bucky, he wasn’t yours.
Too tired to dry your hair, you wrangled it into a wet bun before slipping into the oversized shirt you usually wore to bed. You left your apartment and made your way to the kitchen, happy to keep your secret. “Morning, Nattie,” you said, smiling at the redhead.
“(Y/n).” She was almost asleep in her coffee.
“Are we training today?”
“No.” His voice surprised you and you flinched, almost pouring the hot coffee onto your hand instead of into the mug. “Everyone gets today off.”
“A day off, Captain?” you asked with exaggerated surprise, handing him a cup as he walked to your side. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Guess I’m just in a good mood,” he murmured, smirking at you. Your cheeks flushed red and you raised a hand to your neck, brushing your fingers over one of the marks he’d left on you the night before. Steve’s eyes darkened with lust and laughter before you broke eye contact to sit by Natasha.
“Have I told you about that girl in accounting?” Natasha asked as she began to wake. Pain and jealousy echoed in your chest. You knew she wanted to see him someone.
“You have,” he answered casually, not turning to face either of you, “and I’ve told you I’m not interested.” The echoes faded as Steve finally turned to you and made cautious eye contact.
The rest of the team started to stumble into the room, most looking exhausted. Sam could have rolled out of bed and fallen into the kitchen. Tony probably hadn’t even gone to bed the night before. Vision didn’t need sleep.
“Someone throw me the Lucky Charms?” you asked, hungry but too tired and sore to get up.
Steve moved, ready to grab them for you, but Tony was already there and tossed the box across the room to you. His eyes narrowed as you caught the box and his head tilted in curiosity. “What were you up to last night, kiddo?”
“Sleeping,” you answered, pouring too much cereal into the bowl Bucky handed you and ignoring Tony.
“Really? Because those love bites say otherwise.” You felt heat in your cheeks and struggled not to look to your Captain. The whole team stared.
Clint giggled from somewhere above your head. “She’s got them all over her thighs too.” You were sure your entire body was blushing now.
“Let’s not tease the poor girl,” Steve said and you finally let yourself glance to him. There was pride in his eyes. “We’ve all had a night of fun.”
“And we’ve all had our mornings of shame afterwards,” Tony said, sauntering over to the table.
“He’s no one,” you answered quietly, dropping your eyes to your lap, unsure of what to say. You’d been together nearly half a year.
“At least I know why you have been turning me down,” Pietro said, reaching across the table in an attempt to snatch your hand. You pulled away, panicked eyes flickering to Steve for a moment.
“Maybe she’s been turning you down because you’re a cocky little shit,” Buck spoke suddenly, and everyone turned in surprise. Steve snorted.
“It is not cocky if I know I am better,” Pietro argued.
“I highly doubt that,” you mumbled. Eyes shifted back to you and yours widened as you realized they’d heard.
“Really? Who exactly is this marvelous mystery man, then?” Tony asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“He’s none of our business, Tony,” Steve said. His eyes softened when they landed on you, apology replacing the pride from earlier.
A blue flash obscured your vision and you felt Pietro wrap his arms around your middle and you screamed in shock. “I will not give up so easily, prințesă,” he said, humor in his eyes. “I will steal you!”
Unsure of how to react, you began to laugh and attempted to untangle yourself from his arms. “No, no, prințesă. Give me a kiss and I will let you go, yes?” You laughed harder, caught off guard by his sudden brashness. Your giggles died when you looked to Steve. His eyes were dark and clouded with anger.
“Put her down, Pietro,” Steve said, his voice low and protective.
“Oh, come on, Cap! Let the kid have some fun,” Tony teased, setting a hand on Steve’s arm.
“The kid can have all the fun he wants with someone else’s girl,” Steve growled, shaking Tony’s hand off, “but he needs to put mine down.”
Pietro hurriedly set you on your feet and you stumbled forward, focused on Steve. He reached out to steady you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Are you okay, doll?”
“FUCKING FINALLY,” Natasha burst out, more awake than she’d been all morning. “HOLY SHIT. YOU TWO HAVE BEEN FUCKING FOR SIX MONTHS, THREE WEEKS, AND FIVE FUCKING DAYS. YOU’VE BEEN SUBTLE AS FUCK.”
Bucky began to laugh, doubling over in his chair as the rest of the team stared at Natasha in astonishment. “You both knew?” Tony shouted, turning to watch Bucky fall to the ground. “You both knew about this?” he continued, gesturing widely as Steve held you to his chest. “And didn’t say anything? What the hell?”
“Are you actually surprised Steve told me, Tony?” Bucky asked, finally composing himself enough to stand back up.
Tony shot a questioning glare at Natasha. “She’s a loud fucker,” she explained casually and Steve’s chest began to shake with laughter while you tried to disappear into his arms.
“Language, Nattie,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against Steve.
Summary: Denial is part of every relationship, isn’t it?
Warning: all the language, almost smut
A/N: Vegas Lights series is killing me, but should out this weekend! This was my procrastination.
His hands gripped your waist, walking you back into the wall until his body could press against yours. Your breath caught in your throat as lips roughly found your pulse, sucking a deep purple mark into your skin. A moan fell from your lips and you fisted his shirt in your hands, thrusting your hips against his.
He growled against your skin and pulled away, pupils blown. “Jump,” he ordered. You happily complied, wrapping your legs around his waist. A shiver ran down your spine when his fingers found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, kneading into your hips. His lips were hot and hungry against yours, his kisses needy and urgent, desperate for something more.
Neither of you were breathing steady when he pulled away, his hands running up your sides, flames left in their wake. He yanked your shirt over your head before refocusing his attention, sucking your bottom lip between his. His grip tightened on your hips when you began to unbutton his shirt, trailing kisses down his chest before pushing the material away.
Setting you on the ground, he let his shirt fall to his feet before backing you against the wall again, sliding his leg up to press between your thighs. You moaned, tugging your fingers through his hair and pulling his lips to yours. A stinging nip to his bottom lip earned you a strangled breath as he unclipped your bra.
“Bedroom?”
“Bedroom.”
You weren’t dating Steve.
Not really anyway.
– – –
“Why couldn’t we – just once – have a mission on some tropical island instead of another winter wonder-hell,” Clint whined.
“Because a beach resort isn’t evil enough,” you said.
“Stop fucking complaining and focusing on the damn mission. I just want to get home,” Natasha cut you off, her voice coming from behind you as well as through the com in your ear.
“Language, Nattie,” you whispered, a smirk on your face as she glared at you.
“Shut the fuck up and fucking shoot the fucking bad guys.”
“Yes, ma’am.” You winked and saw a reluctant smile flash across her face before you turned own a hallway and away from her.
The team had been flown to Russia – again – to sneak into a Hydra base – again – and find supposedly valuable information – again – without knowing what type of threat you’d find – again. Gun in hand, you made your way through the halls, growing wary of the quiet. “Any sign of life?” Stark’s voice made you jump.
“Not yet,” you answered, swinging your gun around when a door opened behind you. “Scratch that.” Three men dressed in black lumbered into the room, eyes narrowing when they caught sight of you. “Came to play?” you asked, directing a sweet smile at the tallest.
“Something like that.” All three were unarmed, and you knew you had the upper hand for a moment. You trained your gun on the man that had spoken, and they collapsed.
“What the fuck, Steve?” you asked, rolling your eyes at the man standing in the doorway. “I had it under control.”
“I know, but I was in the neighborhood,” he said, sauntering over to you and pulling you into his arms. “Just be careful, doll.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaving you alone.
You weren’t dating Steve.
Not really anyway.
– – –
You stretched out across the couch, feet in Natasha’s lap with Wanda’s head on your stomach. “…and then fucking Stark opened the door.” Natasha finished her story, grabbing another handful of gummy bears from the bag on the coffee table. Some romantic comedy played on the television in the background, but you’d all given up paying attention long before. After another fight with Fury over the little free time you were given, the three of you had locked yourselves in a room and declared it The Girl’s Holiday. They’d stopped trying to pull you out when Wanda literally crushed one of Tony’s empty suits.
“What the hell?” Wanda spoke, her soda floating in a cloud of red by her side. “Stark just walked in on you and Sam?”
“Sam screamed like a little bitch and hid behind the couch while I kicked Stark out on his ass.
“Wait,” you began, nudging Natasha with your foot. “Did you put clothes on first, Nattie?”
“I was a little too surprised to think that clearly!” she defended herself. “It’s not like I was expecting Stark to catch us fucking.”
“Damn, Nattie,” you mumbled, poking Wanda and pointing to the licorice until she magicked some over for you.
“Speaking of fucking, what’s going on between you and our beloved leader?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow as you nearly choked on the bite you’d taken.
“Me and the star spangled man with a plan?” you laughed. “There’s nothing going on.”
“Really?” Wanda asked, looking up at you through her lashes. “Does not sneaking from one another’s rooms in the early hours usually mean there is something going on?”
“Oh, they’ve been fucking for months,” Natasha said, throwing a gummy bear into your hair. “Now, kiss and tell.”
You weren’t dating Steve.
Not really anyway.
– – –
“Come here often?” he asked, leaning against the bar next to you. The smell of alcohol radiated from him, the strength stinging your nose.
“Well, I live here,” you said, turning your attention back to your phone. It was another one of Tony’s infamous parties, which meant a night of dodging drunken men desperate to get laid by anything that could breathe. Natasha had dragged you, only to abandon you for Sam minutes after walking through the door.
“Really? How did you manage that?” His speech was slurred and the bourbon in his hand almost empty. You didn’t acknowledge his question, instead beginning to scroll through Pinterest. “You hear what I asked, girl?”
“Yup,” you answered, popping the p. His voice was growing aggressive, but you didn’t worry about fending him off if he moved toward you. You trained men twice his size.
“Then why don’t you answer, whore?”
“Excuse me?” Your eyes snapped away from your phone at the sound of his voice, searching for his face. Steve stood next to you, a protective arm slowly winding around your middle.
“Slut won’t answer my question,” the man continued, oblivious to who was standing in front of him. “Asked how a bitch like her managed to pull living in a place like this. Probably fucked the boss.”
Anger flashed in your blood and you moved toward the man, but Steve’s arm around you held you back. “I sure hope not,” he said, his voice calm despite the fire in his eyes. “It would make things real awkward between Stark and I if he was sleeping with my best girl.” The man seemed to finally process who he was speaking to and his face filled with fear.
“Sorry, Mr. America,” he said, turning around and rushing away so quickly he tripped over his feet and fell on his face.
“I’m not a damsel in distress, you know, Mr. America,” you said, laughter in your voice.
“Oh, I know, but I wanted you to myself,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss just below it. His hand found the small of your back and lead you away.
You weren’t dating Steve.
Not really anyway.
– – –
He woke up before you. His naked legs were tangled with yours and your arm was thrown over his chest. Red marks dotted your neck from the night before. Your hair hid your face from him and he lifted a gentle hand to brush some away.
Your breathing deepened and he grinned, peppering soft kisses across your cheeks before finally pressing his lips against yours. He felt you smile into the kiss before you pulled away, pecking his lips again quickly and laying on his arm to look up at him. “Morning, Cap.”
“Morning, doll,” he answered, kissing your hair. You stretched to kiss his lips, your fingers drawing nonsense patters on his skin. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
Blood filled your cheeks and you dropped your forehead against his chest, trying to hide the color. He ran his fingers up your back, tracing across the scars on your side from your first mission. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before trailing his lips across any skin he could reach. “Especially in the morning,” he continued. “Your hair messy and your eyes tired. Absolutely stunning.”
“And you, Steve Rogers,” you said, barely composed as you spoke against him, “are a hopeless romantic.” You kissed his chest, relaxing farther into his arms. There was nowhere to be and nowhere you’d rather be. His fingers continued to move across you, goose bumps trailing after them.
“Only when it comes to you,” he said. His fingers pressed gently against your chin, turning you up to look into his eyes. “I love you, (Y/n).”
