#1930s steve rogers

[elkleggs]

[brooklyn-sgr]

Prospect Park (c. 1934)

This is one of Cpt. Rogers' earliest rendition of Prospect Park in Brooklyn, New York City. Many of Rogers' sketchbooks feature local scenes, such as this sketch, or even local residents. This particular drawing can be found deep within the sketchbook and is surrounded by numbers and other scribbles. The other half of the page has dark lines as if Rogers was trying to scribble out a drawing. That drawing is still undergoing restoration in our offices. This newly recovered drawing has sustained numerous levels of damage due to poor preservation. Whether the poor preservation is from Rogers himself or thanks to his former neighbor's technique is up for debate. This sketchbook was found at the bottom of the stack with the covers nearly ripped off due to friction. With some examination, some dark stains on the cover, along with various pages, are from blood, as if from a bleeding nose.

[nerds-yearbook]

In September of 1930, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes met and became best friends. (Captain America: First Vengeance, online comic

[frost-queen]

Shameless (Reader x James 'Bucky' Barnes)

Requested by: @vviolynn,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne

Summary: [Set in the 1930's academy life] Bucky and you have known each other for years but always end up in physical fights with him till your best friend points out that she thinks you like each other, changing your entire perspective. A classic enemies to lovers romance.

Heavy rain clattered on the stone buildings of the academy. Standing under the archway you tried to look if it would rain for any longer. School books clutched to your chest. A girl beside you was tripling impatient. You looked over your shoulder feeling a hand on your shoulder. A boy in uniform gave your shoulder a gentle push to squeeze himself between you and the impatient girl. He didn’t hesitate running into the rain. His friend following him close by.

Water splashed up from the puddles they ran in. Shouting a bit in displeasing to reach across the open courtyard to get to the other building. The academy was a beautiful historical artifact. Several buildings scattered around. Some connecting others not. An open courtyard in between the different entrances. Water droplets falling hard in the fountain.

The impatient girl became more impatient. Tripling in place as if she needed to go desperately to the bathroom. – “Ohh.” – she cried out hesitant if she should use her books to keep her neatly tied hair together. You held your hand out to feel how hard the rain was coming down. From behind you, you heard more footsteps. Rushed as they echoed off the stone walls. Before you knew it, you got pushed. Stumbling into the open rain, getting wet in the matter of seconds. Hearing him laugh loud, you turned round with a sour face.

“James!” – you called out clenching your hand. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was laughing so hard his back arched a bit. Glaring at him, you stomped firm towards him. He was still laughing when you grabbed him by his tie. Pulling hard at it, he gulped when you nearly choked him. You dragged him into the rain with you. He sighed loud as the rain fell down on him. Opening his arms he looked at his uniform getting wet. – “That is what you get Barnes!” – you scolded as you were soaking wet already.

He clenched his jaw, glaring furious at you. – “You were going to get wet anyways.” – he replied mockingly to downsize you. As a result you slapped his hat off his head. His hat fell in a puddle. – “So were you!” – you responded not backing down. Bucky stared with wide eyes at his hat that was slowly getting wetter by the second he left it untouched. He picked the hat up in anger. You yelped when he grabbed you by the back of your neck, squeezing it. – “You are so going to pay for this!” – he said dragging you across the courtyard in the rain.

“Bucky let me go!” – you called out swaying your arms around. – “Do you have any idea how much this hat costed?” – he said loud, hinting to his formal school wear. One would resemble the uniforms you wore for war attire. Plain colors of brown and a dark forest green. The boys wearing a suit with a hat. The girls a forest green skirt with a white blouse, long socks, and black shiny shoes.

“Bucky let me go!” – you repeated as he still had you in a tight grip, dragging you through the rain. Having enough you stomped on his foot. Bucky immediately let go of you, hopping on one foot in pain. Seeing your chance you took off, but not before scooping up some water from the water fountain near you. Splashing the water in his face. Bucky got surprised, sighing so overly done with you. He started chasing you wanting to get his revenge. This was how it always was with Bucky and you.

For a few years now. The two of you always ended up in a physical fight for whatever reason. Always toying and taunting each other. You screamed loud when Bucky came chasing you. Running around benches and zigzagging to avoid getting caught by him. Someone whistled loud making Bucky stop. – “Buck! Hurry up. Class!” – one of his friends called out waving. Bucky groaned loud. – “This isn’t over Y/n!” – he shouted. You waved flirty at Bucky to tease him just that little bit more. Knowing how much you were toying with him that he couldn’t get you.

Bucky backed away, jogging over to his friend. The two of them ran through the puddles to one of the buildings. You ran to the other side as boys and girls were still separated. It was already a luck boys and girls were allowed to attend the same academy. You spurted inside glad to be out of the rain. You kept running in the hallways knowing you had lost a lot of time arguing and toying with Bucky.

Some girls were running as well trying to make it to class in time. Out of breath you rounded a corner seeing a swarm of girls waiting outside the classroom. Your friend waving you over. You slowed down panting to reach her. She took a tentative eye on you. – “You are soaking wet.” – she commented. – “Didn’t you run?” – she asked further. She was wet as well, but not as drenched as you. – “James.” – you breathed out letting her know enough.

“Are you guys still at it?” – she groaned rolling with her eyes. – “He pushed me in the rain.” – you said to justify your actions. She sighed once more, touching her forehead. – “You two are such children.” – she said lowly with a dismissive shake of her head. – “He’s the bigger child.” – you whispered to her when you heard a pair of heels click loudly against the stone floor. All the girls lined up by pair as the teacher walked past. She opened the door walking in first till you all went in. Ready for class to begin.

You sighed loud seeing it was still raining. – “What a grim day.” – you spoke holding your hand out to let the rain fall between your fingers. – “We still have to face it.” – your friend replied. You nudged her before running into the rain across the courtyard to head to the other building. She followed with a smile, catching up with you. The two of you ran as fast as you could. Water splashing up from the puddles you stepped in. Reaching the other side started both of you to laugh loud.

Brushing some droplets off your uniform, you followed her to the benches underneath the arched-way corridor that connected two buildings. At one of them were some boys sitting. They whistled loud for your attention when you walked past. – “Don’t be desperate John.” – Your friend called out with a smile. The boy grabbed his for his chest. – “Oh Carol you break my heart.” – he responded playfully. She laughed loud as they running over.

John threw his arm over Carol’s shoulder as David did over yours. Carol moved her shoulder, brushing his arm off her. – “Manners John.” – she said teasingly as you did the same. – “Oh Carol give my heart a break.” – he answered stabbing himself in the heart, falling a bit behind. Carol giggled loud. The boys followed Carol and you inside. You rounded the corner coming face to face with Steve. It startled him a bit as you noticed he was holding his hand by the wrist.

Steve smiled sheepishly. – “I’ve cut myself Y/n.” – he said nervously. You took his wrist, moving his cut finger closer to you. – “Do you perhaps have any bandages for me?” – he asked. You nodded pulling him back inside with you by his wrist. The other boys and Carol still following. You entered the dining room. Long tables lined up to have over two hundred students seated for diner. You sat yourself down on one of the long benches, sitting Steve beside you. Carol came sitting on the other side of you. 

John hovering over her as he had set his hands on the table in front of her. His two friends sitting across. – “What would you boys do without us girls.” – you said reaching in the pocket of your skirt. You took out a bandage pulling Steve’s finger closer to you. Beside you was Carol nudging John to give her some more space. John wouldn’t stop hovering over her as you were used by it now. The boys were always hanging around you girls since they knew how tentative you were to them.

Specially with those medical lessons you got. You blew gently on Steve’s cut seeing him get bashful. You then wrapped the bandage around his finger. – “You need a kiss on that Steve?” – Paul outed leaning with his hand against his jaw. Steve shot him a glare, kicking him underneath the table. Paul grunted flinching forwards avoiding a major hit against his knee. – “I’ve cut myself too Carol. I need a kiss as well.” – John said coming to sit beside her. He puckered up his lips as Carol punched him in the armpit.

“Jealous Paul?” -  you commented still holding Steve’s finger. Then out of the blue you got hit across the head with some papers. It made you immediately let go of Steve’s hand. Rubbing the back of your head you looked behind you to see who it was. Bucky was glaring seemingly to Steve when he noticed you staring, he started smirking. – “You still owed that Y/n.” – he answered with a mockingly smile. Bucky forced his way between Steve and you wanting to sit down. You rolled with your eyes as Steve scooted over. Bucky smiled grinningly at Steve before turning his posture to face you.

“My hat is ruined Y/n.” – he said coming to rest his chin on his knuckles. You pouted your lips mockingly. – “Poor Buck.” – you said sarcastically slapping his hand from underneath his chin. Bucky nearly lost his balance as some of the boys snorted loud. He grabbed you firmly by the chin, staring into your eyes with a hard stare. You stared right back at him, not backing down. Carol observed you closely, specially Bucky. – “You owe me a new hat Y/n. I’ll accept whatever payment you give me.” – he said smirking. – “Bite me.” – you responded as Bucky inhaled sharp through his nose.

The tension between your stare shooting through the roof. – “Alright, alright knock it off you two before we need more medical attention.” – John called out breaking it off. Bucky let go of your chin. You turned away from him. Bucky swallowed softly becoming aware of something. Carol kept a close eye on him, seeing the change in his eyes. The soft longing as it made her smile knowingly. – “Where are your manners Buck. Y/n is a girl.” – Paul said. Bucky smiled licking his upper lip briefly. – “She is an exception.” – he answered setting his elbows on the table to lean closer. He then glanced to the side, eying you. You wouldn’t give it any attention knowing how much it would stroke his ego.

Carol nudged you as you got up with her. – “Already leaving ladies?” – John asked. Carol hummed loud. Carol locked her arm with yours with a giggle. You let her pull you with her leaving the boys behind. Not only five seconds later got Bucky up, taking his leave as well. Carol lead you back outside standing under the arched-way ceiling of the corridor that connected this building to the next. – “Why are you smiling?” – you asked her confused.

She pressed her lips together making you even more curious. – “What? Is it about Steve?” – you asked seeing her shake her head. – “James.” – she laughed out. – “Buck? What about him?” – you answered confused. Carol came to a stop coming to stand before you. – “It is so obvious.” – she said making you quirk your brow up. – “What is?” – you replied unable to follow her thought train. Carol smiled sneakily as you demanded answers.

“What is?” – you called out. – “He likes you silly.” – she answered as your eyes widened. – “No he doesn’t.” – you snapped back in defense. Carol hummed loud. – “He so does Y/n you just don’t see it.” – she explained further. – “Why do you think he always taunts you?” – she asked. – “Cause he hates me?” – you answered wary. Carol shook her head. – “Cause he likes you Y/n! If he hated you, you’d be in the infirmary 24/7 but you never are. Sure you two get physical but never till someone is bleeding.”

Furrowing your brows you tried to follow her. – “I just saw the way he looked at you. Y/n I am telling you that man can’t breath without you.” – Carol exposed. – “And you feel the same way.” – she added as you took a step back into the rain. The rain sweetening your face as you were too stunned to even be bothered by it. Carol quirked her eyebrow up. – “Are you getting out of the rain?” – she asked seeing how stiff you stood. Getting soaking wet once more. – “Y/n!” – Carol turned her head seeing Steve rush over. – “Are you trying to catch a cold?” – he said worriedly, grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you back under the arched ceiling.

Carol turned her head seeing Bucky stand still at the end of the corridor. One hand in his pocket, staring at Steve worrying over you. – “three, two one…” – she whispered matching the exact pace Bucky got in motion. Heading your way. He grabbed your wrist pulling your arm upwards. – “I still expect payment for my hat Y/n.” – he said keeping his eyes on you. You slowly turned your head to look at him. You couldn’t even fight back.

Something inside of you had snapped, looking differently at him. Looking back at Carol you saw her nod and motion with her head. You wanted to test her theory out. You looked at Steve with a smile. – “I’ll keep good care of my health.” – you said feeling Bucky pull your arm more back. – “Did you hear me Y/l/n?” – he called out.

“I did James.” -  you answered pulling your arm down as it broke free from his grip. Bucky started to smile tauntingly. – “Good girl.” – he said patting you on the head. It annoyed you making you slap his hand off you. Bucky whistled loud snapping with his finger for Steve to follow him. Steve said goodbye to you before going after Bucky.

You watched them head towards their dorms as Carol came standing beside you. – “Told you. He is smitten with you, so smitten his jealousy became so clear.” – she told you with a smirk. Following Carol back, you couldn’t stop thinking about what she said. It was as if your gut got pulled out, twisted around, and put back. Everything felt out of sorts. You couldn’t even think properly off Bucky without feeling those darn butterflies tickle your insides.

You wanted to scream your lungs out. Everything felt wrong. The more you thought about him, the more your heart started yearning for him. In class you couldn’t keep your focus. Pricking yourself a few times in the finger while sewing. A good quality any lady should posses no matter the use for it. Carol had noticed how unfocused you were trying to get you to focus once more.

The rain had finally stopped when you walked back out after three more classes. You were walking alone as you noticed Bucky leaning against a wall. The moment you walked past he removed himself from against the wall, joining your side. He took you by the wrist, dragging you closer to the wall. Your back hit the wall as he came standing before you. – “You still owe me.” – he said eyeing you. You noticed he was wearing his hat again.

“Your hat seems fine.” – you commented with a teasing smile. Bucky chuckled. – “I still expect payment Y/n. So what will you pay me?” – he asked coming a bit closer. – “This.” – flapped out of your mouth before you even thought properly. Removing yourself from against the wall you stepped up to him. Grabbing him by his uniform, pulling him a bit down. Bucky gulped nervously when you looked at him with those eyes.

You tipped his hat off with a flick of your finger. Bucky glared but before he could do anything else had you kissed him. Bucky’s eyes widened slowly closing as he surrendered to you. His hands lowering on you, pressing gently onto your lower back. You felt him press you deeper against him, intensifying the kiss. He smiled against your lips slowly pulling away. – “How shameful of you Y/n.” – he whispered. – “Shut it Bucky.” – you said back kissing him again.

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[buckybarneswannabe]

Fic for @griminker

Steve and Bucky slow dance and it end up in an argument revealing feelings from

Years past .

—————————————————————————————————————

Are you still listening to the same song?” Bucky asked Steve walking into his room. Hearing the farmiliar hum of frank Sinatra fill the room . Steve chuckled, his gaze remaining fixed on the skyline of Brooklyn through the window.

"You still remember that?" he replied, amusement lacing his voice.

Turning away from the view, he faced Bucky with a nostalgic smile. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

“Why only 40s music though” Bucky asks, “You know more music has been created since then.”

Steve chuckled again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know, I know," he said, "but there's something about the 40s music...it's like comfort food. Reminds me of home, before all this."

He shrugged with a lopsided grin. "Plus, have you heard some of the modern songs? They're... interesting”

“I think it’s good” Bucky remarks, shrugging.

Steve's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise.

"You do, huh?" he said, leaning against the windowsill. "Bucky Barnes, man out of time, likes modern music. Times have truly changed."

He smirked. "You going to try to get me to listen to some then?"

“If ya want” Bucky said with a smile.

Steve let out a dramatic sigh, feigning reluctance.

"Alright, lay it on me then," he said, gesturing for Bucky to start. He crossed his arms again, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Let's see if you can convert me to the ways of modern music."

“Not converting you just showing you” Bucky says siting next to Steve and opening his phone that stark had given him, he was still figuring out how to use it but Natasha had helped him make his way around Spotify.

Steve watched as Bucky opened his phone, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on his face. He had to admit, he was a bit intrigued. He nodded for Bucky to continue.

"Alright, show me what you've got, Buck," he said, turning his full attention to the phone.

“I’ll start you out easy, you know Lana del Rey?” Buck asks.

Steve shook his head, his expression a mix of curiosity and slight skepticism. "Lana... del Ray?" he repeated, the name foreign on his lips. "Can't say I've heard of her. Go on, play something."

“Okay pic a song, do you want ‘Margret’ or ‘chemtrails over country clubs?” Bucky replies.

"Hmm... Let's go with 'Chemtrails over Country Clubs,'" Steve replied, his curiosity piqued. He leaned back against the wall, ready to listen.

As the music began, Steve's attention fixated on the soft melody that filled the room. It was definitely different from the 40s tunes he was used to but something about the singer reminded him of Sinatra. but there was something captivating about it. The beat was slow, mellow, and almost dreamlike. The lyrics were poetic, and the singer's voice was sultry yet soothing.

“What do you think? I chose her cause she sounds old timey in this song i guess” Bucky says to Steve.

Steve nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yeah, I can see what you mean," he said. "She's got that old-Hollywood vibe about her. It's different, but it's... nice."

He was genuinely enjoying the music. It felt like a bridge between the past and the present, something familiar yet new. He looked at Bucky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Alright, maybe you're onto something here."

“It’s slow dance music. You know” Bucky says nudging Steve.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. "Slow dance music, huh?"

He considered Bucky's words for a moment before feigning a look of horror. "You're not about to ask me to dance, are you?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“No..” Bucky says quietly because honestly, he was going to ask. It’s not like it would be a crazy ask they used to dance in the cold air of their old apartment to kitty kaling and Judy garland. For gods sake, Bucky even taught Steve how to dance because he couldn’t get a single girl at the bar to give him a chance.

Steve noticed the way Bucky's voice trailed off, the hint of hesitation. He saw the flicker of something in Bucky's eyes that he recognized all too well.

"You sure?" Steve asked, pushing off the wall to face Bucky. There was a gentle knowing smile on his face, a smile that said he understood more than he was letting on.

"Because I might be persuaded to dance for old times' sake," he added, his tone lighter than it should be for the sudden intimacy in the room.

Bucky stared at Steve for a moment, surprise clear in his eyes. It was like Steve had read his mind. But instead of backing down, Bucky's gaze turned just as determined.

"Yeah," he said, more sure of himself now. "I'm sure."

Steve chuckled at his friend's stubbornness. He pushed off the window sill and extended a hand to Bucky. "Alright, then, old buddy," he said, his voice warm. "Just try not to step on my toes."

Bucky took Steve's hand, and for a moment, they were just frozen like that, the two friends and war veterans, holding each other's hands like teenagers ready to dance. Despite everything they had endured, this moment felt oddly simple and comforting.

Steve gently pulled Bucky closer, guiding him to the empty part of the room. "Remember those old dances we used to do in our apartment?" he asked as he placed a hand on Bucky's waist.

Steve didn’t miss the slight hitch in Bucky’s breath or the way his body went rigid. He could feel the tension in Bucky’s muscles, the way his chest kept still under Steve’s hand.

Steve didn’t say anything, just waited for Bucky to relax into the dance. He began swaying slowly, his movements smooth and controlled, guiding Bucky into the rhythm.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only Bucky to hear. “It’s just a dance, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know” whispered Bucky in response.

Steve could still feel the tension in Bucky’s body, but he could also feel him trying to relax. They continued dancing in silence for a few moments, letting the music fill the space between them.

“You know, it kind of makes me laugh,” Steve said, pulling back a bit to look into Bucky’s eyes. “Back then, you used to tell me I didn’t know how to dance. Didn’t have any rhythm you used to say.”

“You didn’t have any” Bucky smirked as he replied.

Steve chuckled at Bucky's blunt response. "Well, maybe not then," he admitted. "But I've learned a thing or two since then."

He gave Bucky a sly smile, his grip on Bucky's hips tightening just a bit. “I can at least manage a slow dance without stepping on my partner’s feet.”

“Partner” Bucky murmurs.

Steve chuckled, sensing the jest in Bucky's tone. "Yeah, partner," he said, his gaze holding Bucky's. "Is that such a funny thought to you?"

He continued the slow, steady rhythm of the dance, keeping Bucky close. The conversation was light, casual, but there was something under the surface that Steve couldn't ignore. The tension in the air felt palpable, and he knew Bucky felt it too.

Suddenly ‘One’ by Metallica starts playing ruining the moment.

Steve looked a bit taken aback as the slow song ended abruptly and a heavy metal track blared through the room, shattering the tranquility of the dance. He pulled back a bit from Bucky, turning his head slightly to look in the direction of the phone.

"What in the—" he murmured, looking back at Bucky with a puzzled expression.

Bucky chuckled at Steve's reaction his own amusement clear on his face. "Stark must have put that on my playlist," he said, reaching for his phone and turning down the volume just a bit.

Steve looked at Bucky with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "You listen to this kind of music now?" he asked, still a bit bewildered by the sudden shift in sound.

“Sometimes” Bucky replied.

Steve chuckled at Bucky's response, his gaze raking over Bucky's body, noticing the way the other man visibly shivered at the sudden absence of his touch.

"You cold?" he asked, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. He stepped a bit closer, his hands finding their way back to Bucky's waist.

“Stop.” Bucky suddenly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky's abrupt response, a slight frown line appearing on his forehead.

"Stop what?" he asked, his hands still resting on Bucky's hips, refusing to let go just yet.

“Don’t do this don’t hold me like that, don’t act like it the same as it was.” Bucky says frantically remembering how dancing before use to always lead to a kiss or something of the sort,and Steve clearly didn’t see Bucky in that way anymore so why go through the pain of false hope.

Steve's grip on Bucky's waist tightened slightly, his expression darkening a shade as he absorbed Bucky's words.

"What are you talking about, Buck...?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Act like what is the same as what was? I'm just dancing with a friend."

“Exactly, you are just dancing with your friend, so let go of me” Bucky says sharply.

The words stung a little, but Steve tried to keep his expression neutral. He held onto Bucky for a moment longer, as if debating with himself, before finally relenting and releasing his grip.

He took a step back, creating a small space between them. "Alright, fine," he said, his voice gruff, but there was a hint of hurt beneath it that he couldn’t completely hide. The distance between them felt cold and sudden, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort that had been between them moments ago.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding Bucky’s for a moment, before he spoke. “You know, Bucky, sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”

Steve watched as Bucky grabbed his phone and started searching for another song. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the easy camaraderie replaced by a certain tension, a distance that neither of them seemed to know how to bridge.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and waited for the next song to start, his mind still trying to make sense of Bucky’s sudden shift in mood.

As Bucky put the phone down and the new song started playing, Steve listened to the music for a moment. It was a different track, softer than the one before, but there was something melancholic in its lyrics that felt fitting for the mood.

He looked back at Bucky, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought that maybe Bucky was right, maybe it wasn’t the same anymore.

“So, you like this song?” he asked, the words coming out sounding more indifferent than he intended.

“Mhm” Bucky mumbed Steve could tell Bucky wasn't in a talkative mood. The answer had been curt, almost dismissive. It stung, but Steve tried his best to push the feeling aside.

He shifted against the wall, his gaze fixed on Bucky, the dim light from the window casting shadows on his face. “Can I ask you something?” he said after a moment.

“What”

Steve hesitated for a second, not sure if he should ask. But the question was burning in his mind, and he couldn’t hold it back.

“Are we... alright, Buck?" he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. “Because sometimes I feel like you... like you’re slipping away, somewhere where I can’t reach you. And I... I don’t understand why.”

Steve’s eyes bore into Bucky’s, his gaze intense and earnest. “Do… do you even like having me around anymore?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft, almost vulnerable.

Bucky was caught off guard by the question. Steve's voice was not its usual firm, confident self but tender and vulnerable in a way Bucky hadn’t heard in ages. He swallowed, feeling his throat constricting suddenly.

A thousand thoughts and feelings raced through his mind, memories of their shared past, the pain and suffering they had endured, the fights, the joy, the sorrow. It all came crashing back, and it suddenly felt like too much to bear.

He looked down, avoiding Steve’s eyes, his voice quiet when he spoke. “Of course I do.”

Steve's shoulders sagged in relief at Bucky’s response, his breath releasing in a shaky exhale, almost like he had been holding it for too long. He took a step closer, his hand almost automatically reaching out to touch Bucky’s arm, but he stopped himself midway.

His eyes searched Bucky’s face, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?” he asked, the question quiet, pleading.

Bucky could feel the sincerity in Steve's tone, the helplessness, desperation. It was like a punch in the gut.

He didn’t know how to answer that question, didn’t want to answer. Because the truth was... He wanted Steve close, always had, always would. But it was hard, so hard, to allow himself that vulnerability, especially because they had never discussed what they were now, they clearly wherent the same.

Bucky swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his voice low and hoarse. “It's just... complicated, Stevie.”

Steve felt his heart clench at Bucky’s words. “Complicated?” he repeated, his voice thick with barely contained emotion. “We fought side by side, Bucky. We’ve been through hell together. And you’re telling me it’s complicated?”

He stepped closer, his gaze fixated on Bucky’s face. “What is so complicated that you can’t even... even let me hold you when we dance?”

“No steve its not, we’re not”

Steve furrowed his brow, confusion and hurt clear in his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘we’re not’?” he asked, his voice low.

He took another step forward, standing just inches away from Bucky now. He could smell the familiar scent of Bucky’s shampoo, could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Buck, I... I miss you,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “I miss my best friend. Why can’t we just… be like we were?”

“Because we are so different now” Bucky replies.

Steve let out a shaky exhale, his eyes searching Bucky’s face, trying to find any trace of the man he used to know.

“We’ve changed, sure,” he said, his voice gruff. “I know I’m not the same guy you first met, and neither are you. But… But we’re still us, Buck.”

He took another tentative step forward, his hand twitching with the need to reach out to Bucky, to touch him, to bring him closer. “Aren’t we?”

“No” Bucky replies softly.

Steve’s heart wrenched at the bluntness of Bucky’s response.

“No?” he repeated, his voice hoarse, “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?"

His hands clenched into fists by his sides, the knuckles turning white with the effort to hold himself back. He wanted to yell, to shake Bucky, to make him understand. But he managed to keep his voice steady, even if it threatened to crack with every word.

Bucky took in a breath “We aren’t us anymore….you don’t, before when we danced. God - Steve you don’t even look at me the same”

Steve froze, his eyes widening as Bucky’s words sunk in. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, his heart clenching in his chest.

“What… what do you mean?” he managed to croak out, his voice weak. “Of… of course I look at you the same way. I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do this” Bucky pleaded

Steve could see the pain in Bucky’s eyes, hear the plea in his voice, and it broke his heart. But he couldn’t pretend like everything was fine, couldn’t act like he didn’t understand.

He closed the distance between them, so close now he could count the specks in Bucky’s eyes, could feel the heat of his breath on his skin.

“Buck…” he murmured, his voice a low, agonized rumble. “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Steve” was all Bucky managed in response.

It was just one word, his name, but the way Bucky said it sent a chill down Steve’s spine.

He wanted to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn’t. He was trapped, caught in Bucky’s gaze like in a whirlpool, spirally down into a dark unknown.

“Buck…” he tried again, his voice pleading this time, “Please… please don’t do this. Don’t push me away, not again.”

You dont love me anymore” Bucky said with a joyless smile.

Steve's heart plummeted at Bucky's words, shock and pain washing over him like a cold wave.

“What?” he breathed, the syllable barely loud enough to qualify as a word. “No, no, Buck, that’s not true. Of course I…”

He stopped mid-sentence, his words catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice again, the next words ripping like shards of glass from his mouth. “Why… why would you say that?”

“You know why. Steve you can’t look me in the eye half the time” Bucky replied,his voice breaking

Steve’s heart twisted in his chest, guilt and shame washing over him like a tidal wave. He knew it was true, but having Bucky call him out on it was like a blow to the gut.

He looked into Bucky’s eyes, seeing the pain and disappointment there.

“I…” he began, but the words got stuck in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes falling to the floor, unable to hold Bucky’s gaze.

Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He wanted to tell Bucky how much he still loved him, wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to never let him go.

But he was frozen to the spot, the words caught in his throat, the guilt and fear and shame of everything that had happened, of everything he had lost weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"I…" he managed to force out, his voice strangled, "I never stopped loving you, Buck. Never. You know that, right?"

Bucky just looked back at him, pain etched into the lines on his face. “Do I?” he asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Steve felt his heart ache at Bucky’s words, the hurt in his voice like a knife stabbing into his chest. He wanted to explain, to tell him everything that was going on in his head, the fears and doubts that haunted him, but the words wouldn’t come.

Silent tears fall from Bucky cheek as he mumbles “sure as hell dont feel like ya love me.”

Steve felt like he was suffocating, his chest tight with pain and helplessness. He watched as the tears rolled down Bucky's face, unable to move, to speak, to stop any of this from happening.

“I do,” he finally managed to force out, his voice thick with emotion. “I do love you, Buck. I always have. I always will.”

The words felt hollow even to his own ears. He knew they weren't enough, but they were all he had. Steve reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently brushed away a tear from Bucky's cheek. His fingers lingered on Bucky's skin, feeling the warmth, the softness, his touch desperate and tender at once.

"Please, Buck," he whispered, the plea ripping from his throat, "Just... just don't give up on me. Don't give up on us."

The words hung heavy in the air, filling the small space between them. Steve's heart was racing, his breath shallow, as he waited for Bucky to respond. The silence was unbearable, the seconds stretching into eternities as he watched Bucky's face, searching for any flicker of hope.

Bucky's eyes were still on him, tears still glittering in the corners, his expression a mix of pain and indecision.

“Steve”

Steve swallowed again, his throat dry as sandpaper. He was hanging on by a thread, waiting, hoping, begging internally for Bucky to just say something, anything.

He reached out again, his fingers gently touching Bucky's chin, tilting his face up so he would look at him. "Please," he murmured, his voice ragged, "say something…"

“Tell me that you still love me.” Bucky pleas.

Steve felt a wave of raw emotion wash over him, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"I do," he said, his voice firm now, strong, his eyes locking with Bucky's. "I do still love you, Buck. I'll always love you. You're my... my one constant. The best thing that's ever happened to me."

“Kay” Bucky responds.

Steve's brows furrowed slightly in confusion at Bucky's reply. It wasn't the response he had expected. It wasn't a rejection, but it didn't feel like a acceptance either.

He searched Bucky's face, trying to find a hint of what he was thinking or feeling, but his expression was guarded, unreadable. Steve took a step closer, his hand still resting on Bucky's chin, his eyes locked on Bucky's.

“Just ‘kay’?” he asked, a wry note of humor to his voice, masking his insecurity.

Bucky nodded, his gaze not wavering from Steve's. There was a silent tension in the air, an electric current passing between them. Steve's heart was pounding in his chest, his fingers still gently cupping Bucky's chin, his thumb gently caressing the stubble on his cheeks.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “that’s it, huh? ‘Kay’ is all I get after baring my soul to you?”

“Yeah.”

Steve felt his heart sink at Bucky's nonchalant response. After everything he had confessed, after baring his soul, this was all he got? Just a casual 'yeah'?

He let his hand drop from Bucky's chin, his fingers balling into a fist at his side. He took a step back, putting space between them, a flicker of hurt and anger in his eyes.

“That's it?” he repeated, his voice firmer now, the tone challenging, “That's all you have to say to me?”

“Steve?”

The single word, his name, hung in the air like a curse. Steve felt his frustration boil over, the whirlwind of emotions he had felt since Bucky first started talking to him now threatening to consume him entirely.

He took a step closer, his voice tight, his body tense. “Don't 'Steve' me,” he said, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. “Don't just ‘yeah’ me. I need more than that, Buck. I need... I need you to talk to me, damnit.”

Steve froze, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't expected that response, and for a moment he just stood there, staring at Bucky in disbelief.

"What?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You... you want me to... kiss you...?"

A million thoughts raced through his mind, a mixture of shock, hope, and trepidation. But before he could say anything else, his body seemed to act on its own, his hands reaching out to pull Bucky closer to him.

Their bodies collided, Steve's hands gripping Bucky's hips, pulling him flush against him. Bucky's hands found their place on Steve's shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of Steve's shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.

Steve's heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all he saw was a mirrored desperation, a need that matched his own.

Steve leaned in, his lips hovering just above Bucky's, his breath mingling with Bucky's in the small space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off Bucky's body, could feel the racing of Bucky's heart against his own.

He lifted a trembling hand, gently brushing back a strand of Bucky's hair, his touch tender and reverent. And then, slowly, deliberately, he pressed his lips to Bucky's. The kiss was soft at first, gentle, almost tentative. Steve's lips moved against Bucky's slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid he might break, that this might all crumble away if he wasn't careful.

Bucky's hands gripped Steve's shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Steve's shirt, pulling him closer still. He parted his lips under Steve's, a soft, needy sound escaping him, the sound like a dam breaking.

Steve broke the kiss, pulling back just enough so he could look at Bucky, his eyes roaming over Bucky's face, taking in the sight of him, flushed, panting, his lips red and swollen. It was a sight that would be forever etched into his memory.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against Bucky's, his breath hot on Bucky's skin. "This is what you needed?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and ragged.

“I just need you to love me” Bucky whispers back. “ ya wanna dance”

Steve felt his lips twitch into a smile at Bucky's sudden change of topic. “Dance? You’re asking me to dance?” he teased lightly.

He moved, pulling Bucky so he was standing in the middle of the room, a fair distance from any furniture or other hazards.

“Sure,” he said, taking Bucky's hand in his. “I’d love to dance with you, Buck.”

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Eight

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Eight: Shampoo and Conditioner

Shampoo: The origins of the word shampoo comes from an Indian hair and body massage called champooi/champo.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s shampoo was a water soluble, dry shampoo powder that would be dissolved by the teaspoon in a cup of hot water (Link). Shampoo could also come as bars of soap, which could lather or be grated and dissolved into boiling water and left to cool and solidify.

A 1908 New York Times shampoo guide claims "hair is best shampooed at night, following thorough combing and brushing, and singeing split ends. Castile soap is applied with a stiff brush and rinsed four times every month to six weeks." (Link)

Bathing had become more and more common as part of the hygiene routine in the early 1900s, but shampooing was generally recommended every two weeks—or every four to six weeks (preferably using castile soap or tar soap) because shampoo was known for drying out and damaging hair. (Link)

While at-home shampooing was slowly becoming more common, it was more common—for those who could afford it—to get it commercially done. Most shampoo ads were targeted towards women, but men in barbershops "transitioned from using hair tonics to using shampoos to remove the build-up of heavy styling products" (Link).

The liquid shampoo first really started hitting the market in 1927. So by the 30s at-home shampooing became even more common. This is due to a combination of most Americans have in-house plumbing, their own bathrooms, and the shampoo formulas becoming less harsh and drying. The combination of all this meant one could wash their hair every week. (Link) (Every day shampooing began to be marketed in the 70s since oily hairstyles were out of fashion.)

Liquid shampoos were sold in glass bottles, while powdered shampoos came in tins.

Bottles of shampoo and lotions manufactured in the early 20th century by the C.L. Hamilton Co. of Washington, D.C., United States

It wasn't until 1934 that detergent-based (no-soap, modern) shampoos came onto the market (Link).

Sarah Rogers likely wouldn't have been able to afford to get her hair shampooed, but she could have made her own shampoo from castile soap bars (example youtube video) or bought shampoo powders which were then dissolved in water.

She would only wash her hair every few weeks, most likely brushing her hair and keeping it up in styles in-between washes. (Link) Using a clean brush to brush ones hair helped remove and evenly distribute oils.

In 1933 shampoo cost about 25-50 cents. (Link) (Link) I haven't dug deep to know exactly what kind of things Steve and Sarah would be able to afford. But it wouldn't surprise me if there were times they could and couldn't afford hair care products.

As for if Steve would shampoo his hair, he probably just used soap. Shampoo had soap in it until 1933 (which was why it was so drying) (Link). But men could afford to use soap on their hair since they usually had shorter hair and their natural head oils could help mitigate the damage.

I can find less information about men's hair routines if they couldn't afford to go to barbershops, so I'm less certain of what Steve would do. But 20s, 30s, and 40s men's hair styles had a lot of oil or greasy styling products. While these would need to be washed out for re-styling (probably weekly like women) the oil products would help against drying out the hair.

Men also always wore hats. Having stiff or slick-down hair was important so that hair styles wouldn't be ruined by putting on and removing hats. Hair oils would stain hats, chairs and other things heads came in contact with.

Circa 1920 Glostora hair oil and brush ad and Hair Slik ad

Don't be fooled by the ad. This vintage bottle of Glostora is 5 inches or 12.5 cm tall. It would be put on after shampooing, like conditioner.

In the Captain America: The First Avenger movie we can see that Steve's hair isn't slicked back. This could just be a modern day styling choice, but it could also show that Steve did not care about styling his hair.

Cleanliness was was important so he probably washed his hair every few weeks with soap and bathed regularly. But it doesn't look like he put heavy product in his hair. (Unlike Bucky, who probably had more reason to shampoo his hair. It wouldn't surprise me if Bucky went to the barbershop when he could afford it.)

Steve probably couldn't afford to do more to his hair than wash it with soap every few weeks. He likely made his own shampoo with castile or tar soap. This method makes more shampoo than the bottles of liquid shampoo being sold.

Conditioner: Conditioners originated from a product called brilliantine (developed in 1900) which was used to soften beards and moustaches. This product would be put on after styling in barbershops to make the hair shine and soften it. (Glostora and Hair Slik are similar products.) (Link)

"It was oil based, giving off a slimy residue to anything it touched. Homemakers knit lace doilies to cover the backs of high back chairs and couches to protect the furniture from men’s greasy heads" (Link)

Other items used similar to conditioners were hair tonics, or Wildwood Cream.

Conditioner became a necessity because of shampoo, as it is drying to the hair. So it wasn't used much until shampooing became more common (oil has a long history of being used to tame hair, but commercial conditioner products became more common along with shampoo use.) (Link)

Women caught on to these types of commercial products. I've had a hard time finding specific conditioner products from the 30s. Here is a hair care routine for women circa 1930 that mentions brillientine, so it looks like women began using brillientine as well before more specific conditioning products were developed.

There seemed to be more conditioner products developed by the 40s. Here's a conditioning cream from around the 40s, and a different one with a price (about 39¢).

1942 Drene Shampoo Hair Conditioner Vintage Print Ad

(Drene was the first modern synthetic (no soap) shampoo and you can see in the side panel of this ad they say "Don't rob your hair of its glamour by using soap or liquid soap shampoo—which always leave behind a dulling film that dims the natural lustre and color brilliance!")

Wrap up

Modern day hair routines would be recognisable but still somewhat unfamiliar to Steve. This is partially because men's hairstyles have changed drastically from the slick-back styles he is used to. Hats have also gone out of style.

Also, it is common now in America to wash one's hair around three times a week. This shift came about with the change in hair styles. Woman leaving hair down and covering it less necessitates the need to shampoo and condition it more. (Women shampooed their hair once a week in salons up to the 60s).

The products are also slightly different. Liquid shampoo is the dominate form now (I doubt Steve ever bought liquid shampoo) and they come in plastic bottles. The liquid shampoo is likely a much different formula than he's used to. Additionally, conditioning is a very specific step in the process and hair product ingredients have evolved.

There are also combination products like 2-1 shampoo and conditioner which came about in the late 1980s.

Along with the cultural changes, Steve's socioeconomic status would effect his perception of hair-care routines and buying hair products.

With modern (no soap) products, Steve's hair is probably softer and shinier. Steve would have been aware of no soap products, but I don't think he would have bought them. However, he could have had these products used on him during his USO tour. Interacting with the women there probably introduced him to many products he was less familiar with.

Men's hairstyling in the 1920s.

This post kind of got away from me! But I hope you enjoyed my deep dive into 20th century hair care.

[fotibrit]

Peter and Steve are seen as the innocent ones, the ones who try not to curse and are incredibly uptight. They’re the ones who are overly polite and mind the rules with precision.

When Steve meets Peter officially for the first time, Tony quips that Steve will finally have someone he approves of. Steve doesn’t quite seem convinced though, and confirms that Peter is from Queens.

Hours later, Steve decides to get to know the newest team mate by “taking him for ice cream”, and Peter and Steve head out of the tower. Out of FRIDAY’s earshot.

The moment they’re (what Steve deems) a safe distance from the building, Steve grabs Peter by both shoulders.

“You can drop the fucking act now, Queens. How the hell did you get them to believe you?”

Peter’s eyes widen before he starts grinning. “What ever could you mean, Mister Rogers sir?”

Steve’s smiling now too. “You fucking asshole.”

“I told them I’m the friendly neighborhood vigilante and they ran with it. they don’t seem to know what sarcasm is, and it’s too damn late now! I’m the friendliest fucking vigilante you’ll ever meet, now!”

“You’re going to get discovered before I do. They think just because I’m from 1930 means i’m all uptight and righteous. The morons don’t know jack shit about what happened in the 30s, apparently!”

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

[allofthebeanz]

1930s Brooklyn: Steve has a habit of flopping into Bucky's lap wherever-whenever. Sometimes Buck gets a pointy elbow in the ribs, but he'll just grumble something and adjust accordingly until they're both comfortable.

Skip to 1940s France. Bucky's sitting around the campfire contemplating the Howlies' next move when Steve '240lb tank of solid fucking muscle' Rogers drops on top of him

[elkleggs]

You are the most amazing artist ever, and I’m so grateful you’re taking prompts ❤️ In the spirit of the season - I’d love to see Bucky taking care of prickly, miserable pre-serum Steve when he’s sick. Heaping blankets on him or giving him a torturous sweaty rim job cause “germs come out with the spunk, Stevie, you know that” or just making him soup and cuddling on him or checking his temperature with his lips. Smutty or fluffy, whatever strikes your fancy.

[ironspidersblog]

Random person in the 1930’s: fuck Steve rogers 😠

Bucky: fuck Steve rogers 👀

Random person in the 2020’s: fuck sam Wilson😠

Bucky: fuck sam Wilson 👀

[callalillywrites]

Their Sweet Omega

So, this idea came expressly from this imagining and I'll admit I got a bit carried away by the idea. I really hope @thezombieprostitute doesn't mind that I took this idea and ran with it.

Part 2 / Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Jake Jensen / Beta!Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers / Omega!Reader

Rating: Pure Fluff

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: Jake and Steve have been searching for an Omega to call their own. Their luck hasn't been all that great until an Omega literally lands in their laps one day.

A/N: I have a lot more I want to add to this little universe, but I'll see how it goes I guess with everything else I've got going on at this point. I do hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff as it's my first ever A/B/O I've ever written. It's proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Jake Jensen isn’t your typical Alpha, but he’s a good one according to Steve Rogers, his Beta. Jake isn’t built like other Alphas though he does have an understated strength to him that many overlook, but it’s his gentleness and anti-bullying policies that really made it easy for Steve to align himself and fall in love with Jake.

Steve isn’t always the greatest Beta. He can be headstrong and maybe a little bit reckless especially when he’s seeing something going down that shouldn’t.

He also doesn’t have the greatest health. He’s not nearly as sickly as he might’ve been in, say, the 1930s, but he’s still considered not the healthiest by modern standards, either. He’s also rather short compared to other guys his age. Jake stands about a foot taller than Steve on a good day, even more when chronic illness slumps Steve’s shoulders and keeps him in bed.

Because of his poorer health, Steve has a harder time holding down any type of job for long. That doesn’t bug Jake though as he makes more than enough with his cyber security job and his freelancing software programming gigs on the side.

In fact, he encourages Steve to build up his painting and drawing hobbies, buying Steve the best supplies and even building him a website and social media following. Steve does quite well with it, too, since it allows him to work at his own pace while still feeling like he’s contributing to the household as well.

The only thing really missing in their lives is an Omega they can call their own. It’s not like they haven’t been looking, either, but the few Omegas they had been interested in had left them wanting. They’d either been disappointed that Jake wasn’t ‘Alpha’ enough for them or they didn’t really see Steve as anything more than an attachment of Jake. They refused to give up hope though.

Neither really counted on how one lucky Wednesday morning would change everything for them.

Jake decides to treat Steve to a whole day of pampering and quality time together after the past few busier weeks they’d been enduring. Jake had just finished a major project at work while Steve had finished one of his biggest commissions to date. It was a time to celebrate, relax, and enjoy each other’s company.

It’s why they ended up at the cute little café near their place. Jake stands in line to place their orders while Steve claims a small table and chairs near the windows. Steve likes to people watch and draw whatever he sees, always carrying a small sketchbook for such an occasion everywhere he goes.

Both notice the cute Omega at the front of the line. How could they not? The sweet Omega smells like cinnamon rolls and vanilla. It’s a heady concoction, but they also notice that she’s getting plenty of other attention from other Alphas that she’d probably prefer over Jake anyway. She even seems to be chatting with one of said Alphas while she waited for her order to finish prep.

That changes when her order is called.

When she bids the Alpha a good day, the Alpha bumps her and sends her scrambling and careening into the table where Steve sat. Her drink spills all down her best business outfit while she lands into Steve’s lap. Her impact on his unsuspecting self sends them both to the floor though Steve manages to keep himself under her despite the pain shooting up his spine for his efforts.

Omega is horrified. She sees the small drops of her drink that have landed on Steve’s work and on his clothes. Her apologies can’t come out fast enough as she searches out napkins or anything really to help mop up the mess, not caring about her own dripping state.

It takes Steve a moment to get past the pain shooting up his spine, but he’s doing his best to assure her that his work is fine and that he’s fine. He’s far more concerned to know if she’s okay after the spill she’d taken. Her clothes are matting against her body, and he knows that can’t be comfortable.

What he doesn’t expect is her to stop her frantic cleaning to stare down at his sketch. He really doesn’t expect her to recognize it or him as the online artist, but she does. She even confirms it by whispering, “I can’t believe I messed up your latest masterpiece. I’m so, so sorry” and follows it up with his online name. He’s a bit stunned to say the least.

The Alpha who pushed her is laughing it up, pleased that his little trip had done more than what he’d been hoping for after she had the nerve to turn him down.

Jake, who’d seen everything, steps out of line and rushes over to Steve and the Omega who is still doing her best to apologize to Steve and save the sketch he’d been working on. There are literal tears in her eyes and possibly a bit of fear when Jake approaches.

The Omega recognizes Jake belongs with Steve and the first thing that pops out of her mouth is “I’m so sorry, Alpha, I didn’t mean to make your talented Beta fall for me.”

Oh, Jake is now smitten, especially as he sees Omega’s cheeks grow quite pink and sees her quietly berate herself for her foot-in-mouth syndrome around cute Alphas and Betas.

It also unfortunately gets the other Alpha’s attention, who has taken to snarling his displeasure at her apparent interest in Jake and Steve. He even approaches to cause more trouble when she spots him. Her body goes rigid though her expression shifts to one of pure fire. If the Alpha wants some attention, then she’s going to get him some attention.

In less than two minutes, she has the entire café focused on the scene playing out between her and the Alpha bully. It’s enough to draw the attention of the female Alpha owner as well who bans the bully from her café.

Never in Steve’s or Jake’s experience have they ever seen an Omega take on an Alpha like she does with such expert handling. Both are quite sure they’re a little bit in love with her as she continues to make a stand against the Alpha with the café owner and some other patrons backing her up.

When the Alpha leaves with his proverbial tail between his legs, the owner offers to replace her drink and another set of clothes that she keeps on hand for herself to the Omega if she’d like them. She extends the offer of a free drink to Steve and Jake as well, not wanting to lose two innocent customers to that awful Alpha.

Already late for her big meeting, she declines the clothes but does take up the offer of a new drink. While she waits, she nervously checks in with Jake and Steve to make sure they’re okay and offers to repay them for any damage she might’ve caused thanks to the bullying Alpha.

Both of them assure her it’s fine. They’re just happy that she’s not hurt though they are a bit sad that their interaction is coming to an end.

Before she gets too far though, Jake reaches out to her though he stops just shy of actually touching her. He hasn’t forgotten the brief flash of fear in her eyes upon his earlier approach and can’t stand the thought of possibly frightening her more. When she does turn in his direction, he somehow miraculously doesn’t fumble his words as he asks her to maybe join him and Steve for dinner later that day. He doesn’t need to check with Steve to know he’s also interested in the Omega as well.

A commotion at the shop’s door pulls her attention, and a beautiful smile flits across her features as another Beta walks in with an Omega on his arm.

“What’s taking so long? We’re going to be late. Dear God, what happened to you?” the Beta demands while his Omega tries to shush him.

Their Omega merely shakes her head. “I’m coming, Ran. We had a little mishap, but I’m coming. I know better than to disappoint Ari’s friend.”

Their Omega turns to Jake and nods. “I would love to have dinner with you both if it’s not too much an imposition. Call me in about two hours?”

She slips Jake her business card before vanishing out the café’s door with the other Beta and Omega.

Jake waits exactly two hours before he nervously calls her, putting the call on speaker so Steve could hear everything as well. A small part of him hopes she doesn’t disappoint either of them while on the phone as it’s happened before.

She doesn’t.

Within minutes, they have their plans set to meet at a popular local diner where they could enjoy some good homemade meals while also getting to know one another.

She meets them there in a clean outfit that suits her more than the business suit she’d been wearing that morning. The knee length skirt swishes and twirls around her while the peasant top gives them a decent glimpse of the smooth skin underneath without being too showing. It’s her favorite outfit she admits to them while they wait for their server to arrive.

One of the first questions Steve has for her is how she recognized his work. He’s still a bit gobsmacked about that, especially since he hasn’t been able to get his mind to stop recalling how delicately she’d touched his work. It’d been almost like she’d been touching the Mona Lisa or something equally as valuable. It’s not something he’d experienced firsthand with anyone besides Jake or his few friends.

That’s when they learn Steve helped design her logo and other business media about a year ago. She’d seen his stuff online and had messaged him almost immediately with her ideas and healthy budget to make them a reality. As it turns out, she owns a small homemade candle company, and she’s just landed another retailer who’ll be showcasing her candles after her meeting that morning.

The attention and adoration she’s showing Steve in that moment would make almost any other Alpha jealous of their Beta. After all, she’s practically gushing about how amazing Steve’s art is and how much it’s helped improve her sales as everyone talks about the design. She’s even sent Steve more work because she can’t stop talking about it with her customers. Steve admits he should be giving her something in return for all the referrals and work she’s given him.

Yeah, Jake realizes he should be jealous, but he’s not. He’s the exact opposite at this moment. He’s sitting with someone who values Steve’s talents as much as he does, so how could he possibly be anything other than more smitten with her?

When Steve admits that Jake’s the reason he even has his online business, the talk soon moves to Jake where she learns about his many technical talents. He can see that she’s just as impressed with him as she is with Steve. It’s enough to stroke his ego a bit and have him sitting a bit straighter in his seat.

Their discussion soon moves to hobbies and other things where she soon learns that Jake likes to play one of the most popular first-person shooter games on the market. He admits he can hold his own, but he’s nowhere near as good as some of the other players out there. When he mentions ‘Amaranth Fossa’ as his dream gaming partner, he catches a look he can’t quite figure out that passes over Omega’s face.

They don’t really stop talking all through dinner, but it does eventually have to come to an end. It’s not something any of them want, but they do see that the hour is getting later and the next day is a workday for both Jake and Omega. They end up walking her to her car where she thanks them for a wonderful evening. She doesn’t get into her car until she presses a kiss on each of their cheeks and a promise that they’ll do this again soon.

Jake and Steve share a look, then Jake asks if she’s free the weekend coming up.  

She gives them the sweetest smile and says she is.

Jake and Steve head home after seeing her off. They have a date to plan, and they have no intention of disappointing this sweet Omega that literally dropped into their laps.

*****

Main Masterlist

[robertdowneyjjr]

@stonylovessteve 2024 // soulmates au for @tinystark616

All his life, Steve has dreamed of a gorgeous brown-eyed brunet genius who’s too smart for everyone around him. Everything points to these being soulmate dreams, but that doesn’t make any damn sense when it seems like Tony’s in some far off future and Steve is just trying to get through a life of illness and poverty in 1930’s Brooklyn.

Against all odds, they meet anyway.

post-catfa canon divergence, pining, getting together; word count: 5.9k

happy birthday steve rogers!

[bowieandqueen11]

Steve Rogers SFW Alphabet, A-M

Request: Oooh can I also request a SFW headcanon A-M with Steve Rogers pls?

Of course my lovely, here you go! <3 If anyone would like the second half do let me know!

(I do not own Captain America or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @askthesuperhusbands. SFW Alphabet template credit goes to @keylimedie.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

HUGS!! SO. MANY. HUGS. Steve has lost a lot in his life: his parents, his best friend, and even his own time and prior life, so he grips onto you at every opportunity he can get for two main reasons. One: to close his eyes, dip his head into your neck and breathe in your scent, reminding himself that you're real. He hasn't lost you, and neither are you some kind of ethereal dream, or a HYDRA cruel illusion. Secondly: he's afraid that if his strong arms aren't around your waist, tucking you into his pecs until your palms are resting gingerly against them, that somehow the universe will find a way to take away the one thing he cares about most in the world.

He's definitely a kissy man as well. Not huge, PDA, sweeping you off your feet kind of kisses, because he has some of that residue nervousness from before the serum, when he was just an overlooked kid trying his best to fight for a scrap of any prestige. His kisses are far sweeter: he often leans down before he has to leave the Avengers Tower for a mission, a shy smile shining from his radiant face as he slowly pecks your lips. He's embarrassed when he's found out for it, but sometimes he adds an extra little nose rub against your own before he fully pulls away.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Steve Rogers is both the best and absolute best friend to have. I mean, like Bucky, the three of you all became friends in the 1930's, when you run over to help Buck fend off a bunch of bullies from a very irritated looking Steve. When you had given Steve your hand to pull him back onto his feet, at first he seemed to be holding his fingers to his side and wincing at the way his ribs hurt with each tug. When he finally looked up, though, and saw you... man, he still gives you that star-struck, mouth agape stare now as he did back then.

Although you have to spend half your time running down alleyways with Buck, trying to find Steve and stop him from bloodying up his nose too bad, and then a quarter of your time on top of that trying to drag the surprisingly headstrong man back into bed after his asthma attacks, the remaining time spent with Steve is incredible. A lot of time is spent out in diners, Steve pretending he isn't blushing on the stool next to you as you slide your milkshake across the counter and trying to get him to share your straw. Or, you persuade him to try the dance halls: at first he's terrified, his hand shaking on your waist and ducking his head down against your chest as his second left foot stamps against your own. Eventually, the ongoers and swing band whirls past like sparks of fireworks as you and Steve come to an agreement: he'll stand on your feet and grip tightly onto your hand as you trot the two of you about. He's laughing so much against your chin, that soon his fingers are clenched so tightly against your palm that he feels like they're burning once he shakes them out.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man is the ultimate cuddler. It comes from multiple, cold, New York nights, where he and Buck could barely afford the rent, and had to spend the night curled up together under his mother's old, mildew stained couch cushions. He knows how to tuck up into a person, which is why it's so sweet that often times in bed he'll try to tuck himself up to your front, curling up like a hedgehog despite his larger stature now. If your arms get tired from holding itself over and around his bicep though, he immediately can tell, and immediately feels really bad. He's getting a lot more accustomed to being the big spoon, feeling a sense of pride at the exhale of pure peace you give when you feel his knees knock up behind your own. Once his hard chin bumps against the top of your head, and you can feel his fluttering heartbeat rest right against your spine, you're able to fall into the most deep, peaceful sleep you've had in a long time.

D = Darling  (Pet names)

'Doll' is definitely his go to, mainly out of habit. Sam tried to trick him a couple of times into trying to call you some really cheesy nicknames from like the 90s like 'my boo', but he still sometimes calls you it to tease you after he saw how hard you laughed at his stuttering pronunciation. Bless his heart.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Since you're literally the love of Steve's life - his soulmate, it would take something insurmountable to make Steve break up with you. Even being apart for missions makes his whole body feel like it was going to collapse in on itself. He was that twenty three year old again, ducking back from enemy fire and taking a respite to pull the crinkled photograph of you out of his pocket. He'd carried it with him, even tucked into his suit when he fell into the ice, and something about rubbing his thumb over the curve of your smiling, black and white cheek manages to stifle the ferocious burn of yearning that smoulders in his stomach.

Therefore, if he were to break up with you, he would only do it if he had no other choice. Perhaps he had to leave, go incognito, was sent out on a mission he knew he wouldn't come back from. He knows you. He knows you can take care of yourself. You know that you could bounce back from this. But if you were in danger because of him... if he lost you, because of his selfishness to keep you by his side at all times, he would never be able to forgive himself. He's spent a lot of nights crying silently in bed at the thought, but he knows deep down it's the right thing to do if the situation arises.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh my god, Steve wanted to marry you from the first moment his eyes glanced over your ethereal form. It started to get on Bucky's nerves, how often he would state it; when they were waiting by the railings at Cony Island for you to get to the top of the cotton candy queue, Steve had his hands stuck into his pockets, tenderly stroking at the fringes of his suspenders, as he put all his energy into smiling over at you. 'I'm going to marry Y/n one day, ya know?' Buck would just shake his head and slap Steve's back, but even he couldn't fault how perfect the two of you were for each other.

Or when the three of you were curled up underneath Steve's battered sofa cushions, a scratchy blanket the only thing keeping you warm as you huddled on the icy floor one unsympathetic New York night. You were tight as a bug in the middle, Buck's legs pulled up against your back, and Steve curled up facing you on your left. When he thought you were asleep, you felt the blanket rustle a little before the feel of his slight pointer finger suddenly graced the curve of your jaw: it was quick and slight, like the wings of a dragonfly dancing over the ripples of a pond so deep and enticing, that they can't help but want to drown. 'I swear, I'm going to marry you someday. You'll the only person I'll ever love, Y/n', he whispered into the dim cracked light flooding through the slants of the apartment's blinds, wistfully sighing at the lack of reply. You were too shell shocked to move, willing your eyes to remain shut when he carefully reached forwards and pressed the full extent of his shaking palm against the open side of your face.

Yeah, let's just say that when he proposes in Avengers Tower, you're not nearly as surprised as he is when you say yes. The two of you are weeping and grinning an equal amount as he grabs onto your waist and spins you in his arms, though.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

This man is incredibly soft. He's always there for you emotionally always. He seems to have a sixth sense for whenever something is off with you, and before you can even groan in frustration he's intertwined your fingers and is dragging you into one of the empty rooms in the Tower. He doesn't want to scare you, or make you feel as if you have to talk to him though, so he sits at the board room table next to you and just... places your hands on his knees. That's it. He just massages the edges of your fingers, and looks at you with that look: that knowing, one eyebrow raised look, as if he's saying 'I know you. I know you better than I know myself. And I'll wait forever, do whatever, to make sure you're alright again.' The look of sheer love in the bottle blue depths is enough to make your bottom lip wobble, and it doesn't take long for your frustrations with Tony to come spilling out.

Although he's super gentle, he does immediately get... not angry, but annoyed? He's the sort of guy that wants to sort out the situation for you, no matter what it is or how dangerous. It's like when it comes to you, something switches in his brain. His face falls into a stern line, the muscle in his jaw twitching, and you have to desperately pull him back by the bicep to stop him going out and getting himself hurt.

He's super gentle physically as well, but it's all the more evident when the two of you are out on a mission and he hasn't heard from you over the walkie talkie for a while. His heart hammers a million miles per minute as he runs through the navel base, peering like a man possessed down each corridor, and throwing desks out of the way as he hunts for you. When you finally bump into him on Deck 3, confused as to why he was so worried as you had only lost radio contact around fifteen minutes ago, you barely have time to register the look of pure fear on his face before he's wrapped you in his arms. It's as if he's holding onto a baby bird, the way his hands tremble as they spread over your lower back and tuck you against his chin. You have to reassure him you're alright, and pretend for his sake that you don't feel the wet splash of lone tears he was unable to hold back on the top of your head.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As I said under the last point, bro does Steve give good hugs dear lordie lord. Have you seen this man??

Before the serum, Steve wasn't much of a huggy guy, mainly because he was too embarrassed about his feelings to show them so evidently and implicitly. You might have got the old half-shoulder press when you left him back at this door after a day spent out at the park, but that would have been about it.

Post serum Steve cannot keep his hands off you. Although I don't feel like he's one for massive amounts of PDA in front of the other Avengers, mainly because he's fed up of getting teased all the time by Tony for it, it's much more recurrent in private. He hugs you every morning in bed: before you've even managed to blink your eyes fully open, Steve's shuffled under the covers and over towards your back. His lips are puffed: warm and languid as they slide kisses down the back of your shoulder blade, his arm strong and tight as it winds around your waist. 'Good morning', he murmurs as his bottom lip wipes delicately over the back of your neck, smiling to himself as you groan and shove yourself back against his touch.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Steve's told you he loves you a lot, but mainly when he thinks you're asleep or otherwise are too preoccupied to hear him. He's whispered it to you during sleepovers since you were both seven years old: he's murmured it to the breeze when you jump up from picnics in Central Park and wave him off, running back home before your mother realises you've been gone so long. He states it plainly into the night, when he's restless and alone in his apartment, with only his chipping ceiling keeping his pining mind company.

The first time he told you properly, though, was right before he fell into the ice. It was the last thing, as far as you thought, that he had ever said to you. He had promised to take you dancing again, now that he didn't have two left feet, and that he would meet you at six o'clock next week in your favourite spot by old Mrs McGee's Diner on 10th street. Before the radio had fizzled out into the deafening sound of silence, the words he had stated, so candid and forthright, as if they were the truest words in the world, had stabbed your heart with each whirring crackle. 'I love you, Y/n. I always have. I always will. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more.'

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I do have to say, poor Stevey does get jealous. In the back of his head, when he sees you talking and laughing during group hangouts with Thor, he reverts back to that skinny version of himself, who spent all day every day watching Bucky introduce new guys to you. He can't help the way that same overwhelming feeling of jealousy bubbles up from his gut and moves his limbs before he even realises, but he's quick to come stand by your side.

He's polite though, adding quips and bits to the conversation, but making it obvious to the both of you that he's there to just survey the scene. To calm down his nerves, even though he trusts you wholeheartedly. His eyes will keep flicking down to your eyes, then your nose, then your lips, and although he'll try to keep some self restraint and stop his arm from reaching out to latch on to you, if you're talking to someone he doesn't know he's less likely to be able to control himself.

Be ready to be lifted up and shoved up against the elevator wall before it's even completely closed on the Gala. Steve's shoved your thighs apart and hefted them up in the air so he can stand between your legs, his lips bruising as he kisses the side of your mouth, his hands simultaneously reaching up to undo the buttons of your dress shirt. He can't help it. He needs to show you how much he adores you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

They range from soft and sweet to hot and heavy. They're more, let's say polite in public. Say the two of you wander into the Avenger's kitchens at the same time, and as an act of fondness he'll reach for the coffee tin past your side while also leaning his head down to peck your lips. Just sweet little reminders through the day that he loves you.

Some are more languid and wistful though. When the two of you discovered that the Winter Soldier was really Bucky?? Steve was nearly inconsolable, despite how strong a façade he tried to put up for Natasha. The kisses that night are far more fervent, as you walk into Sam's spare bedroom to find Steve hasn't even taken his jacket off yet. He's just sitting on the edge of the mattress, a ten yard stare straight down at the floor as he clenches and wrangles his hands together. You have to come between his legs carefully, trying your best not to disturb him too much, before cupping his cheeks between your hands. You press soft little kisses around the tip of his nose, his eyes falling shut heavily, the weight of the world on his shoulders. It surprises you to find that he's the one to part his reddened lips, still raw from crying, and grabs a hold onto your bottom lip.

He loves to kiss the corner of your mouth, mainly because 1) he's spent pretty much every day of his childhood staring at your lips and daydreaming about the way they'd feel against yours, but 2) he still feels to shy, as if he doesn't deserve to actually be able to kiss you.

As for himself, he loves it when you kiss his forehead. It was a little idiosyncrasy the two of you had - when you were younger, the first time Steve had gotten beaten up, you had smuggled him back into your house and plopped him down on your father's favourite arm chair, right by the living room window. He was awestruck as you ran into the kitchen, amazed at the way you had absolutely no fear as you stole a bottle of your parents Vodka, and gathered some gauze from underneath the kitchen sink. He had been too stock still, too nervous to move as you tried to tidy up the cuts around his eyebrow as best as you could, but he had made this embarrassing little squeak when you had leant down to kiss the top of your forehead once you were finished.

Because you found it so sweet, how bashfully he had pulled his woollen jumper over his eyes and tried to bury himself down into the cushion, absolutely mortified, you did it again. And again. Until it was a little check in between the two of you: a kiss on the forehead to let each other know you were alright. It makes him feel safe, and still makes his heart thunder in his chest the way it did the first time.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like Steve probably wouldn't be too keen to have children, mainly because of how dangerous and uncertain your lifestyles are. He's a pretty good uncle though! When Cassie was younger, and Scott had been invited round to the Avengers Tower by Tony to get the low down on him, you had opened the door to the main area to find Steve had joined in on their little tour. He had plopped Cassie on his shoulders, and was more than happy to spend the day telling her about all the goings on with the Avengers, and listening to her gossip about what her friends had been up to in school.

He's kind, and gentle around children, but doesn't particularly want them himself. Some part of him still worries that he'll pass on all the childhood illnesses he had, and he doesn't want to put another human being through the pain of that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings usually go two ways.

As I said before, he cuddles up against your back and leaves soft hickeys against your back until J.A.R.V.I.S. politely asks the two of you to stop,

He drags you out of bed at the crack of dawn and makes you go for runs with Sam. He loves having that time to be able to catch up with his friend, but also finds it too much fun turning the early workout into a competition with you. If the two of you aren't shoving into each other, playfully pushing each other with your arms in your attempt to get back to the Washington Monument first, than all can be heard is your joint giggles as you team up to do laps around Sam and annoy the heck out of him.

Either way, his perfect morning always involves you.

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Twelve

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Twelve: Soap

One day I was looking at a bottle of dishsoap and I wondered, would Steve have used this? So I looked it up. Liquid soap was patented in 1865 but "despite its popularity throughout the early to middle 1900’s, it wasn’t until 1980 that liquid soap became mass-produced for domestic use." (Link)

From what I've found liquid soap was not that commonly used. There were liquid shampoos in the 20s but many people used shampoo powder or liquified grated soap bars.

It's the same for other soap. Laundry soap and dishsoap came in powders and soap bars. Below you can see a box of soap flakes shown to be used for both laundry and dishes.

Soap flakes sold for 10 cents circa 1929

Here are some more laundry soap options we covered in the laundry post.

Laundry soap options in 1927. They included purchasing flakes, chips, or powder; liquifying your soap ahead of time(right); and (left) grating your own laundry soap from a bar. Fels Naptha soap, which came in a big bar, was rubbed on difficult stains and rings around the collar. (Link)

Liquidizing the soap entails taking soap shavings and dissolving it into boiling water. The liquid would then be poured into laundry water to be used. If left over night the soap re-solidifies.

For dishes another option besides powders or flakes is a soap shaker. This blog discusses early 20th century dishwashing, showing things like soap shakers and dish scrapers. Looks like one could use a soap shaker to more easily get suds from a bar of soap.

Modern soap shaker reproduction (Link).

But what about public bathrooms?

Most public bathrooms nowadays use liquid soap, and if liquid soap wasn't so common, what did they use?

It's possible some bathrooms used bars of soap it's not very easy to find information about that online. What I can find that is soap dispensers that dispensed powdered soap!

There's this one that had a crank to push the soap forward to an opening. Another type of seemed to have a lever/button press to dispense soap. Some styles shave off soap bars inside the canister as well.

I've never experienced these types of dispensers but looking online a lot of people seem to remember them growing up.

1940s era bathroom experienced in the 70s:

They were very simple -- white plaster walls with a wooden partition painted dark green, a painted concrete floor, and a plain white wall-mounted toilet. The sinks had cold water only, and over each sink was mounted a metal Boraxo dispenser -- Boraxo was a dry, gritty, powdered soap, and the dispenser was a sort of mechanical sifter with a lever that hung down below. You'd bang on the lever and a small amount of the powder would sift out. The towel dispensers gave out rough folded-red-paper towels

Circa 1936 powdered soap dispenser with crank handle. Note is says "pure dry cake soap ground into powder as you use it without any waste". So this dispenser seems to ground soap cakes (bars) into powder itself.

The video below is an example of push button powdered soap dispenser. Some dispensers have labels suggested to wet the hand first before using the soap. (37 sec video).

I have also seen people talk about soap leaves being available in women's bathrooms. The soap leaf booklets could also be carried around in a purse and used by the owner at their convenience.

You can see in this accessory pack that at least some soldiers were provided with soap leaf packets to use during World War Two.

In conclusion

It is unlikely Steve would be used to using liquid soap. From what I could find liquid soap, and especially the liquid hand soap dispensers, were not popular until the 80s (this seems to be partially because of the difficulty of developing a pump soap dispenser for liquid soap, so that would also be new for him.) I think the prevalence of liquid soap would surprise him as soap is so basic you don't really expect it to change but basically the whole experience of soap has changed for him.

Also, fun fact! Soap operas are called that because when they rose to popularity in the 20-30s they were regularly sponsored by soap companies!

[steve-rogers-new-york]

Recipe Advent Calendar - Day 2

Happy Holidays!

To celebrate the season, I am doing 12-days of seasonal recipes from the 14th to the 25th December. These are recipes published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle newspaper during the period that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes lived in Brooklyn in the early 20th century.

Lemon Cream Cookies

1/2 cup butter 1 cup sugar 1/2 cup sour cream 2 eggs yolks, beaten slightly 2 cups find dry Bond crumbs 1/2 teaspoon soda Grated rind of 1/2 lemon Cream butter and sugar add sour cream and egg yolks and blend. Combine crumbs, soda and lemon rind and add to first mixture. Drop from teaspoon onto buttered baking sheet. Decorate the top of each with sugar and cinnamon mixed together, silver balls or tiny stars cur from candied cherries. Bake in a hot oven, 400 degrees F., until brown—about 10 minutes.

The recipe appeared in the Friday 11 December 1936 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

Advent Calendar Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12

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