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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

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the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.”

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat.

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms.

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum.

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude.

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow.

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival.

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake.

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge.

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her.

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother.

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired.

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were.

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.”

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop.

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage.

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside.

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour.

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures.

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone.

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows.

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?”

“Of course, your highness.”

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours.

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh.

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely.

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle.

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue.

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you.

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.”

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.”

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers.

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends.

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame.

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once.

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.”

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen.

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you.

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below.

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter.

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow.

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?”

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone.

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.”

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress.

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric.

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor.

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed.

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer.

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.”

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left.

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

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anonymityisfunwriter · 6 months

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To Know Him Is To Love Him

summary: to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

an: quick someone give this to a boy to read and ask him what steve did wrong. it's for science.

Anon's 1K Celebration

to know him is to love him.

to know him is to stand by him.

to know him is to allow him to break your heart over and over again.

to know him is to hope that one day he'll finally see.

to know him is to be broken by him.

you can't count how many times he put you here, put in this situation. and worse, you can't count how many times you've let him put you in this situation.

three months ago...

you fix steve's tie, patting his shoulder to send him off on yet another date - after he invited himself into your apartment to get him ready for his date. you hated this feeling, the feeling of unrequited love.

you can't blame him, he doesn't know. at least, you think he doesn't know. in fact, you're sure he doesn't, he would never hurt you like that.

"i swear if this date doesn't go well, i'm swearing off women for good."

"does that mean i'm out a friend?" you tease.

"no, of course not," steve laughs. "you're my best friend. you don't count."

your smile falls at the words fall out of his mouth with ease. you don't count. you're not even a consideration. "i don't count as a woman?"

"you know what i meant. you're my friend."

you don't know what he meant. not in the slightest.

"right," you clear your throat, shaking your head with furrowed brows. "good luck on your date."

two months ago...

"i would tell him, but he's just - he's confusing," you admit. "i get a lot of mixed signals."

"men are just idiots," nat offers in consolation. "someday, he'll see. you're perfect for each other."

"thanks." you smile, walking back to your table with a fresh round of drinks. "what are you guys talking about?"

"about steve's terrible dating record," sam jokes.

"ah," you hum, you settle in the booth beside him, leaving plenty of room between the two of you.

steve frowns at you, reaching behind you and gripping your waist. without a word, he slides you until you're pressed against his thigh.

sam humorously snorts, "i don't get you two. you're attached at the hip. you're both attractive singles. make it official already."

you look to steve's reaction for any indication of what he's feeling. steve leans over, kissing your temple, "she knows she's my other half, my soulmate. we don't need labels."

"soulmate?" sam teases.

you shift uncomfortably. he never asked you that, never asked you if you wanted a label. he's never even asked you on a real date, but now he's declaring that he's your soulmate.

how blind can he be?

one month ago...

"please, i miss you, sweetheart." you squeeze your eyes shut. the term of endearment rolls so easily off his tongue. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

it's intentional. you're trying to get over him. to move past these feelings. he doesn't make it easy. "i know, i've just been busy."

"how about dinner tonight? my place at 8?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to accept his dinner invite, "i don't know, steve."

"please, i need you."

putting distance between you and steve rogers didn't work. not when he so dutifully sought you out. not when he told you over and over again that he missed you. that he didn't know how to be without you.

his words toy with your head just enough to convince that it's a good idea to enter his gravitational orbit again.

you're not strong enough to resist the pull. you're not strong enough to to say no. you never have been.

you decide that you can't do this. you're going to tell him. you'll tell him. you'll tell him that you want to count. you'll tell him that you want him to see you.

to know him is to love him, you remember. the moment you see him, you crumble. that smile that makes it feel like your life is worthwhile. the eyes that send your rational mind into a haze. to know him is to love him.

he doesn't make it easy for you or your heart. he greets you at the door with a beaming grin, his eyes lighting up. it makes you feel like this is more than just a dinner. it feels like you're finally coming home to him.

you falter as his fingers graze your skin to take off your jacket. the apartment isn't his usual scene either. it feels like so much more than just a normal hangout. it feels... romantic. music spinning on his record player, marvin gaye, you recognize. candles lit in the center of the table. the smell of a home cooked meal simmering over the stove.

you turn to him with a nervous smile, "i thought you we were ordering pizza or something."

"i wanted to do something nice for my best girl."

his best girl.

he spends the whole dinner fawning over you. his hand rests on your leg. the other occasionally grazing the back of your hand. he asks you all about your work, about your love life.

"i missed you so much."

you're so entranced by him that your carefully thought out speech is gone, replaced by a soft whisper, "i love you."

"i love you, too." he smiles down at him. his eyes shining bright and blue. it doesn't even occur to him that you're professing your love for him. "i can't imagine my life without you."

you shake your head, reminding yourself that you had to tell him. you needed to move forward, one way or another. "no, steve, i - i'm in love with you."

an anxious chuckle leaves his mouth. his hand drops from your thigh, leaving you feeling cold, hollow, and abandoned. "what?"

you know a rejection when you see one. at least you can move on now. your heart can begin to heal. maybe in time, you could be friends again. "i just had to tell you. just once."

"i don't -" he licks his lips. "i'm sorry, i don't feel the same."

"i understand."

2 weeks ago...

you sigh at yourself, hearing the familiar ding of another voicemail on your phone.

each one chips away at your resolve, each one shatters your broken heart even more.

you told him you understood. you told him that it was okay. you spent the night consoling him. you soothed his fears that he would lose you.

in return, he made you promise to always be in his life. with a broken heart and wounded pride, you weren't strong enough to say no. you simply asked for time and a little space.

time and space that steve had no interest in giving you.

you made it easy for him. you retreated from mutual friends. from social spaces you occupied. you no longer texted or called first. you just needed time.

still, he sought you out.

you've gained enough strength to stop answering his every call and text. you've stuck to your boundaries, at least, the ones steve doesn't seem intent on steamrolling past.

you clutch your kitchen counter with your head hung low. with a couple deep breaths and reminders that he doesn't feel the same for you, you're slowly glad you didn't answer. you're proud of yourself for being strong and doing what's best for you.

at least, you're glad until there's a banging at your door.

your mending heart regrets the moment you answer.

"steve?"

"you weren't answering," he pants, clutching the frame of your doorway, "i wanted to hear your voice."

"steve..." you sputter. "this isn't - it's-"

"i just miss you," he cuts you off. he looks so heartbroken, so sincere. he misses you. you try to not make anything more of it, but then he says it again, "i miss you so much."

you stand to the side, allowing him to pass, "come in."

"thank you," he sighs in relief.

"what happened?"

"the worst date of my life."

you swear you can feel your heart fracturing. the air feels like its being squeezed out of your lungs.

and still, you stand before him trying to look as unaffected as possible. you don't know how effective it is. you don't think he sees you enough to notice either way. "you were on a date?"

"it was awful. she was vapid and boring and - and pretentious - and - and she wasn't you."

you suck in a breath, "steve..."

these were words from a man who did not love you, from a man that did not count you. they sounded an awful lot like the love he claimed he didn't feel.

suddenly, he cups your face, standing too close to you. this wasn't what friends did. this isn't how friends treated each other. you know that.

and then he kisses you. soft and tenderly. his lips mold against yours perfectly. you swear it's a sigh of relief that leaves his mouth when you don't pull away.

you smile against his lips. a sense of rightness overtakes you. he overwhelms you. he consumes you. he grips your waist tightly. the other hand caressing your cheek.

"steve.." you sigh against his lips.

and he freezes. his hands drop as though you burned him. his lips slightly swollen and shining from the kiss. he wipes his mouth, "i should go."

you shake your head. you don't want to believe that this is happening right now. this is steve. the person you loved with every fiber of your being. your friend. you trusted him. you believed in him. he wouldn't hurt you like that. even if he didn't love you, even as just a friend, he wouldn't take advantage of your love for him like that. "what?"

"i should go."

and he leaves without another word.

your heart isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbled into a million little pieces. you're not sure you'll ever be able to fix it.

1 week ago...

he's blown past all your defenses. he's drained every ounce of strength from you. he's taken everything except your broken heart and your love for him. that's all that's left of you.

to know him is to love him. to know him is to be broken by him.

he calls and this time, you answer. you fear him coming back to your apartment like he did before. your heart couldn't take it anymore.

"hi, steve." your voice is so gravelly and hollow, a shell of the fullness and life it used to contain.

you noticed everything about him. his likes, his dislikes. you could tell the day he was having by the way he said hi, by the sort of smile he gave you. you're not sure why you just realized that it's not reciprocated at all. he once told you he loved the sound of your voice, how could he not hear the broken tone? if he notices, which you're sure he doesn't, he doesn't ask.

you can hear the smile in his voice, "i'm so glad you answered."

you're not even sure that he realizes you've put the phone down. after all, you're just his space filler.

now...

you don't know why you're surprised he showed up at your door again. you're not surprised that you opened the door. you're not surprised that you let him back into your home. you're not even surprised that he's talking to you like everything is normal.

the only thing that takes you by surprise is your unwillingness to hear about the misadventures of his dating life.

"steve," you try to interrupt.

"and all i want -"

"steve."

"is for someone to really hear me, to see -"

"steve." you're surprised by the harshness in your own voice. his eyes flash over to you, widened slightly in shock. "you - you have to go now."

his brow furrow, he's taken aback. it occurs to you that he has no idea what he's done wrong. "why?"

"you know why," you spit at him.

"no, you said you understood. you said we could still be friends."

"friends?" you bitterly chuckle. "friends don't hurt their friends over and over again."

"i don't understand."

"that's the problem, steve. you don't get it. you don't get that i don't want to hear about the girls you date. you don't get that it hurts hearing you talk about what you're looking for in a woman. it hurts when call me at the end of the night because you want to hear my voice."

"they why do you answer the phone?"

"because i love you!" you hopelessly exclaim. "because i’ll do anything for you. i’ll do anything you say. and i think you know that."

"am i just supposed to know that you didn’t want to hear about them?"

"no girl wants that," you whisper. "no one wants to hear about everything they don’t have."

"i don't understand what's happening here. you promised me that you would always be in my life!" his accusing tone offends you far more than it should.

a tear slips down your cheek. "that was before."

"before? before what?"

each word hurts. he really doesn't know. he doesn't think about you at all. not as a consideration. not as a woman. not even as just a friend. he doesn't see you at all. "i can do this anymore. it’s too hard. i can - i can’t keep letting you break my heart."

"i told you that i didn’t feel the same. you knew i wasn’t in a space to - to reciprocate."

"and then you kissed me!"

he stiffens at the kiss that he refused to mention. all those nights he spent on the phone with you, talking to you. it was the one thing he never spoke about. "i - i know that wasn’t right. and i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i did that. i was hurting."

"you were hurting?" your breaths come out in fragments, with each heave of your chest you can hear the whistle of emptiness where your heart used to reside. "you - you knew how i felt and you knew you didn’t feel the same and you kissed me anyway."

"it was a mistake. i'm sorry."

your hands ball up in frustration, tear burn at the corners of your eyes. "it’s not just about the kiss. it’s - it’s everything. it’s you. you won’t let me go. let me move on. please."

steve staggers back, "i don’t- i'm not trying to hold on to you."

"why did you call me the other night?"

"because you’re my friend. you’re the person i wanted to talk to. you understand. you always understand."

"i don’t. i don’t understand. it crushed me."

he reaches out for your hand. hurt flashes in his eyes when you snatch it out of his reach. you can't let him blind you this time. "you’re always there for me. even when no one else is, you are."

you snort, "you don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?"

"you’re my best friend. i just - i wanted you hear your voice."

"you see? you keep messing with my head. you tell me that i'm the person you want to talk to at the end of the night. you tell people that i'm your soulmate. you tell me that you don’t feel the same. i tell you i want to move on. you kiss me. then you go on a date with another girl. when it doesn’t work out, you call me. i'm done. i can’t do this anymore. loving you is breaking me far beyond repair."

"i do love you."

you fervently shake your head over and over again, "you don’t mean that."

"i love you and i know it’s not in the same way but maybe - just give me time."

"time isn’t going to fix this. you don’t love me. you love the way i make you feel. you love being loved."

he scoffs, shooting a glare at you, "that’s not fair."

"no, it’s not," you agree. "and it’s not fair that you know how i feel and yet you just keep hurting me. you do it over and over again. and i keep letting you."

steve reaches for you again, "we can fix this."

you shake him off, striding to your door, opening it for him, "you should go."

"please," steve begs.

"goodbye, steve."

you don't know how you gather the strength to close the door on the man you love more than anything, let alone the man begging to stay in your life. the door clicks shut behind him.

a choked sob escapes your mouth as tears freely fall.

to know him is to love him, and you don't want to know a thing about steve rogers anymore.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @buckybarnessimpp @withyoutilltheendoftheline

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krirebr · 9 months

Text

More Than This Masterlist

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, the slooowest burn - See each chapter for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Series in progress

Related Drabbles & Headcanons

I Could Feel at the Time

Ransom's POV of their first meeting.

Ransom and Lola

Moodboards

Steve

Lola

#series masterlist #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #fanfic #steve rogers #captain america #reader insert #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this #more than this masterlist #ce characters

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months

Text

Dirty Water

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

Prompt from this dirty ask game with our pairing from the Sun, Salt, and Shield series.

Summary: After a very long (but unofficial) courtship, where Steve is too shy to bring up your anatomy and his compatibility, a cultural misinterpretation quite literally sinks his resolve.

Warnings for smut (I'm gonna have to call this what it is and just say it's monster-f**king, or the one where Steeb gets maybe-CNC-boinked by a 'monster.' Sorry, babes. Ro's dipped a toe into the darkside for a smidge.) MINORS DNI. Poorly--or rather, not--edited and I have no idea the word count...

Steve swallows harshly and tries not to nervously splash his feet in the pool.

"What?" he chokes out.

He can't think of anything more articulate to say, not that it would matter when so much is lost in translation.

All you did was ask about the singing outside the doors of your 'room'--the retrofitted gym pool at the Avengers compound, the one is the basement without windows for your highly sensitive eyes--but he...could never have predicted why you were so curious.

"They're just enjoying themselves," he'd chuckled, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Do you sing?"

The look on your face, jaw slack and head tilting in contemplation, it should have warned him. You unfurled from your relaxed posture, the stance where your arms cross behind your back and fit atop the swell of your--he'd say tail, but it's more like your ass--rump, the rest of your body bent in a curve until your fin nearly touches the surface, and inched closer to his feet in the deep end.

"Yessssss," you hissed slowly through three rows of sharp teeth, crawling up his legs, out of the water, dripping over his lap as you braced large, webbed hands on either side of his hips.

Even in the very low light of damp room, he could see the lavender of your stare drop to his crotch.

"You sing too?"

Steve's an idiot. He didn't understand yet, so that dumbass actually began humming 'You Are My Sunshine' because nothing else occurred to him.

Then he noticed your tail glowing beneath the scales.

Then he realized you were pressing yourself to his legs.

Aaaand then Steve Rogers looked down your body to witness his knee disappearing in a spongy spot where the armoring swelled apart.

Oh god.

"What?" he now asks like an frightened teen seeing boobs for the first time.

"I make you sing?" Your broad green lips turn up in a smile. "Show me."

Suddenly, Steve's forgotten more english than you've learned. "Huh?"

Your flowing, textured hair, shapely even out of the water, sways when you cock your head to the side, looking through your lashes at him.

"How Stevie sing?"

He shivers for the first time in the cool water and lets an involuntary grunt leave his lips.

He's tried to stop himself from imagining your body and how it works to...ya know, and how he might...oh god, he's going to hell, but apparently, you've already been imagining that humans are either masturbating or fucking outside your door at all hours all the time--

--and oh shit, that means you sing as a part of sex.

He turns his head to the almost black ceiling and fails to think of anything else as the light from your body reflects in waves on every wall. He whimpers when he feels a ripple of muscle through the wet cotton of his jeans.

"Doll make Stevie sing?" Your voice is hoarse, and just as quickly as you say that by his throat, you flip back into the water. You can only breathe air for so long without hurting your throat and lungs.

He thinks he's off the hook, praying the tightness in his pants dissipates faster than they'll take to dry, but he lowers his head to find you peeking from the water, intent as ever on learning his ways.

He should be ashamed, so very fucking ashamed, of how badly he wants to take himself out of his pants and watch the wonder of those pretty eyes as he comes at the thought of you, but Steve's drowning in the hope that he can have you. It's been so long that he's wanted this, even in the most innocent ways.

Your final plea bubbles to the surface.

"Show?"

Steve inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair and licking his lips.

This is wrong, he thinks. You should not be doing this.

Yet he does it anyway because he wants to; he wants to so badly.

He sits up straight at the edge of the concrete, popping the button of his jeans and aches as he lowers the zipper. He can't meet your eye while he pulls out his semi-hard cock and fists it harshly.

You're so long that even looking away leaves your shimmering tail in sight, and he thinks he sees you rattle in excitement. It makes him shiver again, and the vibration shakes the moan escaping his tight chest.

Yikes, it does sound a bit like he's singing...

What the hell are you even doing?

Of course, he knows he's touching himself and he knows well enough how to do that, but he shouldn't be doing this in front of you, much less enjoying it. His blood is running so hot beneath his skin, though, the chilly pool feels soothing over his shins where he rolled up his pants (to no avail).

The heat floods his veins and mind to the point rational thought quiets, and Steve's eyes slither up your demure form.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more noise he makes, and his rampant imagination feeds off the sight of that gap in your scales visible as it undulates in the refraction beneath his feet.

He leans his head back and closes his own eyes at just the wrong moment.

Mid-whine, he misses the splashing sound that would have warned him you were coming, and instead Steve is pummeled by the end of your tail and topples into the pool, shocked and sputtering salty water until his body is pinned to the flat of the concrete wall he used to be perch on.

As he scrambles to toss his arms over the ledge, he feels claws dragging his jeans farther down his legs, and the fabric hangs like an anchor while the silky-slick webbing of your fingers glides up and down his thighs.

Then your tongue runs the length of his cock, making Steve moan embarrassingly loud and thrust his hips forward. If he weren't in the water, he'd be a puddle.

Pleasure races up and down his spine, fighting for dominance over the feeling of cold when he slips from the ledge and submerges briefly.

He barely registers the loss of your tongue and your quick lap of swimming before you're backing into him again.

It's on your ass, too, the soft entrance like you rubbed against his knee, but he could not have imagined what it could do--what you could do--how you could manipulate your muscles inside your tail.

He has no brainpower left to describe it. Steve just lets go, trusting your body to hold his weight as one hand grips the mossy softness of your waist and the other hand spreads over your lower back. Out of instinct, he tries to get leverage to push himself in and out of you, but that's useless.

There's a strong ripple of muscle that pulls him in, and in, and in, delicately tight on his sensitive cock and wide enough to slowly suck his balls into the massaging cavern.

Steve's eyes roll far into his head. He's going to pass out if this keeps up.

"Doll," he gasps, but it's too quiet in the slosh of the water. "Please, I'm--"

A clear, high note crescendos from the deep below, something disturbingly pure and paralyzing, and Steve can't move. He can only feel and experience a siren's song in action.

His body twitches violently before his cum is milked sensually, desperately, methodically from his cradled and ravaged pelvis, and never in Steve's long life has he ever been so fucking spent.

He whimpers when your cunt releases him, only faintly aware that he's propped on your back by his elbows as you swim to the shallow end and let him 'stand' on his shaky legs.

The screeching hinge of the door startles him.

"Cap," the junior agent yells over your hiss from the bright light spraying in, "everything okay? I heard..."

Yeah, I couldn't describe it either, Steve thinks.

He spits water from his mouth. "Fine," he huffs back, "we were...singing, and I fell in."

"Oh. Alright. Sorry to disturb you, Miss G." The man nods his apology at your hand-covered eyes and leaves.

Steve can't help but laugh like an insane person, laying to properly float in the water, uncaring what you're up to until he gently hits the stairs leading out of the pool.

Your head rises out of the water hopefully, and he cups your cheeks, still chuckling. He has zero words to describe...anything at the moment, but he can show you a human tradition of affection in return.

Shifting as easily as a feather in the water, he pulls you two together and sweetly presses his salmon lips to your seaweed pout, letting your long locs fall over his own shoulders.

Soon, he's gasping for air again, yet just before you dunk below the surface, you grin and coo at him.

"Stevie sings lovely."

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

what...the hell have i done. *hits post before final two braincells protest*

@fandom-has-taken-me-hostage @leah2901 @blogbog710 @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @jamneuromain

#dirty asks #ask game #sun salt and shield series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #tw monsterfucking #deep sea mermaid #mermaid!reader #mermaid au #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #fantasy au #i do not have any idea how to properly tag this HALP

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 6 months

Note

you already know what i’m gonna ask for lol. i need my airport man my love. what do you think would’ve happened if he asked me for my number instead of WALKING AWAY or if i magically found him in duty free. BETTER YET what if he just happened to be on the same flight as me?

let’s pretend airport man is steve rogers please. the blonde and that accent gives steve vibes.

Need A Hand? - 1

PAIRINGS: Steve Rogers x Reader

SUMMARY: Flying back to Washington for a family event, you were already ready for it to be over in a week. You didn't want to face the comments from your family about your life as a single working woman. But what happens when you walk into the event accompanied by the stranger you sat next to on the plane? What if that stranger isn't really a stranger?

WARNINGS: Swearing, comments about loneliness from family members, a creepy guy

WORD COUNT: 1,877

ENJOY!

You knew the coffee was cold before the liquid hit your tongue, but you still needed the caffeine. Tipping your head back, you downed the whole thing quickly.

Wincing at the bitter taste, you threw the cardboard cup in the nearest trash can. You knew a 2am flight wouldn’t be the best experience, but you were not going to drive all the way.

You were on the last available flight. You knew your dumbass should’ve booked an earlier ticket, but can you really blame yourself? It’s the middle of December, and people are being stuffed onto planes, wanting to get back to their families for Christmas.

You?

You didn’t want to visit Washington; you had already built your life in the city.

Your family was shocked when you finally revealed you got the position as a Data Analyst at Stark Industries; however, they were even more shocked at your urgency to move ASAP.

They didn’t know that the reason you moved to NYC was because you wanted to leave the nagging and constant subtle unwanted comments behind. It would’ve been one month since you last visited home for Thanksgiving, which didn’t turn out great either; your grandmother made comments on how you didn’t have a man yet.

Rolling your carry-on behind you with one hand, you adjusted the backpack hanging off your shoulders with the other. Your eyes scanned the large gate numbers in hopes of finding the right one.

GATE 23.

You sighed and started heading in the direction of your gate. When you did find a seat in the plethora of people, you called dibs with your eyes and sat down, scrolling mindlessly on social media for the next half an hour.

-------

The aisle seat was somewhat ideal; economy wasn’t the best, but it was something you had to deal with for the next three hours. The man next to you had already started becoming a problem. He started small talk, and you gave in for a while.

“Going to see family?” he asked, looking at you with a wide grin.

You returned a pursed smile, not really wanting to interact with strangers this early in the morning.

“Yeah, family stuff,” you replied, securing your seatbelt and tightening it to fit your waist.

The questions were normal until the man started getting personal. “Got a boyfriend?” he smiled sleazily, and you cringed on the inside.

You fake smiled and replied, “no.” He nodded and gave you a weird smirk. “Why? You’re a gorgeous thing.”

You shuddered slightly and went back to looking at your phone, but he didn’t get the signal. The suggestions he kept throwing your way made you want to gag.

Thankfully, a flight attendant did see you become uncomfortable for a while, and she, in a few minutes, made her way to you.

“Ma’am, we do have a seat up front in business class. In case you are up for the offer?” She smiled sweetly at you but harshly at the man next to you.

You nodded and got up immediately. “I’d like that,” you said, smiling at your savior. “See ya,” you said bitterly to the man next to you and followed the flight attendant after getting your carry-on down from the cabin.

-------

The seats were plusher and nicer; you groaned in comfort when you sank yourself into it. You were sipping on some wine the flight attendant, the one that helped you, poured into a glass and handed over to you.

You gazed outside through the window, enjoying your peace and quiet, until someone cleared their throat in the aisle.

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I, um, I’m your neighbour for the next few hours,” the infamous blonde man chuckled shyly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry,” you got up quickly and allowed him to sidle past your seat and sit down, then he shoved his backpack under the seat in front of him. You sat back down and continued to sip on your wine, feeling a tad bit awkward sitting next to Captain America.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he extended his hand.

You shifted the glass to your left hand, then told him your name while shaking his hand with your right. “I mean, yeah, I know who you are already. So…” you laughed nervously. He chuckled at your answer, “yeah?” To which you nodded again and went back to staring at the seat in front of you.

The lights in the plane dimmed, and you flagged down a flight attendant to hand your glass back to her. Members of the crew made their way up and down the aisle until three of them settled in three different sections of the plane to start the safety demonstration You listened mindlessly, while your heart jogged for a mile as the thought of sitting next to Steve Rogers finally sank in. He did listen to the safety demonstration and actually read the safety brochures, which were tucked into the seat in front of him. Soon, the flight attendants were preparing for take-off.

“What’s taking you to Washington?” Steve asked you, facing your direction. You made eye contact and saw the soft smile he threw your way; you instantly melted in your seat and smiled back.

“Oh, my sister is getting married,” you nodded and adjusted the neck pillow around your neck. He nodded and crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “I see.”

“What about you? I’m guessing something related to ‘Captain America’?” You chuckled nervously as you felt the plane rumble slightly. He laughed at your assumption, “you would think so, but no. Just wanted to visit the place again.”

You nodded in understanding but quickly reached for the armrest when the plane started speeding. You gripped the plastic hard and closed your eyes hard, trying to act normal when really you felt like you were in a washing machine.

“Here,” you heard him whisper. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the big open palm he was offering. You smiled in thanks, grateful for understanding, and intertwined your fingers with his before squeezing it for dear life as the plane lifted from the ground.

-------

You munched on the dry Biscoff’s they handed out during the second hour of the flight. From your peripheral, you saw Steve reading a book and at times glancing out the window.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for the… you know… the hand, during take-off,” you smiled nervously, hoping that you weren’t interrupting him and his reading. He looked up from his book and bookmarked his page before closing it. “Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he smiled at you, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

You always saw him on TV and in the trash magazines your roommate reads, never up close. And now that you were seated literally right next to him, you felt as though he’s just a regular person. It’s not like you can ask him ‘how were the 1940s’, you don’t know him on a personal level.

But you kind of do; you had to study about him in high school during history class. You know where and when he was born, the place where he grew up. Your thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the pilot’s voice that played through the plane. You couldn’t understand the gibberish he said. “What?”

“We’re about to hit some turbulence,” Steve translated for you, and your jaw dropped.

“Great, more reasons as to why I should’ve driven,” you rubbed your eyes.

He laughed at your annoyance towards the plane you were currently flying in.

You glanced at the book he was reading and saw the title. You instantly had to hold your laugh back as you recognized the ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’ book cover.

“Harry Potter, huh?” You pointed at the book in his lap. He looked down at it and nodded. “A friend of mine recommended it. Have you read it?”

You nodded quickly, “oh yeah, it was one of my favourites as a kid.” He smiled at your response.

“I’m a George Weasley girl, all the way. He’s such an underrated character,” you told him as your eyes moved from the book to him.

“Yeah, I think you could say that. But I would say that Hagrid is underrated as well,” he said, adding to your statement. You nodded along, “that is actually quite true, yeah.”

A moment of silence passed before he broke it. “If you don’t mind me asking, you mentioned about going to a wedding?” he asked, craning his neck to face you. You nodded, affirming his assumption.

“Are you going alone?” That made you raise your brows in pure shock.

“Uh, I—yeah,” you shook the confusion from your head. “Why?” You smiled, wondering why he asked you the semi-personal question.

He tucked his chin to his chest a little bit before facing you with the slightest smirk on his face. “Oh, I just thought that a gorgeous woman like you would have been going with someone already.”

You snorted, “WOW.” You really couldn’t believe he just said that.

“Why is that funny?” he smiled at you, a tad bit confused. You chuckled, “I just-‘gorgeous women’? Really?”

He laughed along with you, “I can’t say I’m wrong.” You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent your grin from expanding any further.

------

The next hour or so was filled with you and Steve talking about home and what you two did back in the city.

“Stark Industries? Really?” Steve was genuinely shocked at the revelation of your workplace. He wondered how he never saw you before. He asked how it was, working as a Data Analyst for Tony, and you replied saying that Tony can be immature sometimes, but he does treat you as an equal, unlike your previous jobs.

The flight went smoothly, and you and Steve were in constant conversation. You thought that you never had a conversation this good before. You were actually a bit disappointed when the pilot announced that the plane was about to land soon.

-------

“Need a hand?” Steve asked when he saw you struggling to get your carry-on from the cabin.

“Yeah,” you nodded sheepishly. He flashed you with one of his million-dollar smiles and effortlessly brought your carry-on down from the overhead shelf. You said your thanks and replied with a ‘No problem’.

-------

Steve finally got all of his bags, but you were still standing next to the belt awaiting your final one.

“I guess this is where we part,” you laughed nervously, toying with the strings of your hoodie.

You saw it in his face; he didn’t want to leave you just yet. And you were thankful for that because you didn’t too.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he smiled, but this time it was sad.

This was bad, really bad. You both didn’t want to leave the other.

“Have a good Christmas,” he finished the sentence off with your name, and your heart fluttered with how it rolled off his tongue. Why did you heart flutter?

You both smiled sadly at each other for the final time before he reluctantly parted ways. Why did he hesitate?

💌💌💌

Genuinely upset you couldn't get your man @yiiiikesmish, hope this helps you soothe your woes babes.

Again, if any of you lovelies want be added to the taglist. Please comment here!!🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steven grant rogers #captain america

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crazyunsexycool · 6 months

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 7

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: mention of blood/blood splatter, gun use, gunshot, knife use, non-con touching (not Steve), SA, attempted rape, bruises, beating, angst, protective Steve

A/N: I really liked writing this chapter. Here we have a situation in which reader knows that Steve is in the mob but has never been in direct contact with any type of violence or anything until she is… We also find out who the woman that broke Steve's heart is (Are we surprised who it is?) We'll find out why later on so here we go....

Series Masterlist

“One more piece of tape.” You said as you held your hand out.

“Here you go.”

You place the tape on the last corner and then smooth it out to make sure it stays in place.

“Mom are you done?” Eli pops his head into the room you’re in. “They’re downstairs.”

“Yes, come on.”

You and Eli were two balls of energy. Everything was in place and Regina was more than supportive in your excitement. For the last two days you had been working on getting a room ready for Peter. He was finally being released from the hospital and considering how things were going Steve thought it would be better if Peter stayed for a while.

There’s voices coming from the hallway so you and Eli stand together and wait for the door to open. Steve smiles as he opens the door and steps inside. Peter is right behind him.

“Welcome home.” You and Eli yell at the same time. Peter, still being medicated, is startled before he starts laughing.

“Thanks guys. Did you help decorate?” He asks Eli who walked up to Peter and hugged him gently.

“Yeah. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a great idea bud.”

“Eli, let Peter get settled first. Why don’t you go help Dom make some snacks for the two of you?”

“Ok ma. I’ll be right back.” Eli says before he’s running out the door.

“It’s good to see you’re back.” You said as you gave Peter a hug of your own.

“Glad to be back too.”

You smile as you help him get comfortable in bed. Regina helps by getting his bags from Sam and sorting out the items.

“Who’s she?” Peter nods in her direction.

“This is Regina, the newest member of our staff.”

Peter gives her an awkward smile and his eyes dart to Steve. He thought he’d find the boss checking her out but his eyes were only on you. Peter knew from the first moment Steve liked you but he was stubborn. He wouldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. Steve had warned him to keep a level head and to keep feelings out of the business. But seeing him now it would seem as if his boss was going against his own advice.

“Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need anything.” Regina offers. “I’m going to get back to work.”

“Thanks.” Steve says as he moves so that she can reach the door.

You stay for a few more minutes catching up with Peter before you excuse yourself too. Bucky and Sam walk out with you.

“We’ll let you get settled but we do have to talk about what happened at some point.” Steve says.

“Of course boss.” Peter nods. “I’m glad you brought them here. Y/N and Eli I mean. It was just the two of them and with Eli as sick as he is Y/N needs all the support she can get.”

“And she has it now. Why didn’t you tell me about her and her son?”

Peter looks down at his hands.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“She asked me not to. Simple as that. Eli is her priority and I respected that.”

“You’re loyal, I like that about you kid.” Steve says. “You’re not keeping any other secrets from me are you?”

“No sir. Eli is the only thing I’ve ever kept a secret.”

“Good. Now get some rest.”

Steve flexed his hand, assessing the damage on his knuckles from the interrogation he’d been a part of. He hissed when the cold alcohol swab touched the open skin on his other hand.

“Don’t be a baby.” You murmur as you throw away the used alcohol pad.

You turn away from Steve to grab some ointment and when you turn back he’s lighting a cigarette.

“Hey.” Steve protests when you snatch the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What the hell, I need a smoke. I'm stressed.”

“No smoking in the house.”

“It’s my house.” Steve argues back.

“Elijah can’t inhale smoke so either quit or go outside to the other end of the yard where he doesn’t play.”

“So now I can’t do whatever I want in my own house?” Steve glares at you but you aren’t intimidated by it.

You roll your eyes before taking his hand again and finish cleaning it up before moving around to the next one.

“I didn’t ask you to move in. You brought me here and told me this place was safe for me and my kid. Now if you go and trigger an asthma attack it won't be good for him.”

Steve huffs but agrees. He sits silently for a moment as he watches you.

“You know maybe I should get you a sexy nurse uniform.”

“And who would I wear it for?”

“Your only patient.” Steve says, matter of fact. “Do you think I’d let anyone else see you dressed in something like that?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was my choice who I let see me with or without clothes on.” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips when Steve’s jaw clenched. “What? Does it bother you that I could go out there and find someone and let him take me home?”

Steve stands abruptly and spins you so that you’re chest to chest with him. His hands lay flat against the flat surface of the desk behind you, his eyes darkening at just the thought of someone else putting their hands on you. Your breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze.

“Do you really think I would let that happen? Let some asshole touch you.”

“It’s not up to you, Steve. I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want. Why do you care anyway? Are you still just trying to get me in your bed? Is this why you’ve been so helpful, you think that helping me with Eli will get me to sleep with you? I won’t risk it. My job is much more important than a one night stand with you. Besides I thought we were past this you sleeping with your maids thing.”

Steve groans in frustration, his head falling to your shoulder. You smile and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No. I’m helping you with Eli because I genuinely care.” He pulls back to look at you, his gaze much softer now. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before but I will be now. I want you. Not just for one night.”

“Well two nights isn’t going to cut it either.”

“You’re being a brat, you know that? I'm going to win you over.”

You laugh and get closer to his face, his eyes immediately going to your lips.

“Well I’m not going to make it easy for you.” You murmur and kiss the tip of his nose just as the door opens.

Bucky walks in, his steps falter as he watches the two of you separate yourself from one another.

“Hey Buck, right on time I was just finishing up here.” You say as if he didn’t walk in on the two of you in a compromising position.

“Uh-ok cool.”

You pick up the first aid kit and place it back in its spot within Steve’s office. As you head for the door you stop and turn to look at both men.

“How much longer is that mess going to be downstairs?” You asked about the nameless idiot that shot Peter.

“It will be cleaned up soon.”

“Ok, just let me know if you need me to take Eli out for the day. I don’t want him to see any of that.”

“Of course.” Steve smiled and you walked out.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve waves his hand dismissively.

“Ok? Anyways, Beck still won’t talk. We’ve tried everything.”

Steve sighed as he ran a hand over his beard. “We’re going to have to call either Lloyd or Loki in. But we’ll move Beck first. I don’t want that done here.”

“I’ll figure out where to move him to.”

“Thanks, I’ll make the call.” Steve leans forward and grabs the phone while Bucky heads back out.

You heard Steve’s voice before you walked into Elijah’s room. Almost as soon as you had moved in, Eli requested that Steve read with him at night before bed. You told your son you weren’t sure that was possible but in the short time you’ve been there Steve hasn’t missed a night. Although reading didn’t take long, all of the medication Eli was on made him sleepy. It didn’t stop him from fighting it and trying to stay awake for just a few more minutes. You lean against the doorframe and watch Steve tuck Eli in and turn off the lamp next to his bed.

“Hey.” Steve says as he walks out of the bedroom.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight did he?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I think all of the excitement of having Peter here wore him out.”

You smile while looking back into the darkened bedroom. “I’m not surprised. He loved when Pete would come over and play video games.”

Steve’s eyes were still on you when you looked back up at him. There was an intense feeling of need between the two of you as you stood in the quiet dimly lit hallway. One that pulled you closer to each other. He cleared his throat and you looked away.

“I have some business to attend to at one of my clubs. Will you be alright here alone?”

“Yeah. Peter is sleeping too and I think Dom had a poker game. I’m just gonna enjoy a nice bubble bath before bed.”

Steve groans and closes his eyes. You bite back a laugh.

“Do you need a hand with this bubble bath?”

You smile and shake your head before starting to walk backwards toward your own room. “I’m good, thanks. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Tease.” Steve mutters as he watches you walk into your room.

****

Steve shook hands with his newest associate, Erik Killmonger. They had worked together before but this was going to be on a more permanent and lucrative basis. The two men were in the vip section with a drink in hand celebrating their new business deal.

They looked down at the sea of people dancing and drinking as they talked about logistics and expectations.

“Good evening gentlemen.” A sickly sweet voice called out from behind them.

It was a voice Steve recognized and immediately tensed because of it. He turned slowly, anger already rising within him. A glare was sent in the direction of the uninvited guest but she was unphased.

“What are you doing here, Sharon?” Steve demanded to know.

“I just came by to say hello, see how my old friend was doing.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not my club and not in New York.”

She rolled her eyes and sat at one of the plush couches, motioning for a waitress to get her a drink. “I heard you were doing business and I have a proposition for you.”

Erik looked between the two and excused himself after mentioning something about someone catching his eye. It left Steve alone with Sharon although Bucky quickly and quietly joined them.

“So what do you say, Rogers? Want to make a deal?” Sharon asked as she batted her lashes at Steve.

“No. You shouldn’t even be in New York but I’ll be a gentleman and give you twelve hours to leave.” Steve nods at Bucky who moves and grabs Sharon by the arm.

“You can’t be serious? Is this because of Peggy?”

Steve tensed at the mention of her name. It brought back bitter and hurtful memories. He kept his expression unreadable though and looked back at the blonde.

“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d never work with The Carter Family again and I intend to keep it. I also told you that you have twelve hours to leave.”

Sharon pulls her arm away from Bucky’s hold. “It’s a shame you’re letting your emotions get in the way of a very lucrative deal.”

“Sharon-” Steve raised his hand to stop her from talking when she opened her mouth.

“Steve.”

“What Buck?” He looked over a Bucky, annoyed that he was being interrupted.

“We have to go. Check your phone.”

Steve pulls out his phone to find a few missed calls and texts from your phone.

Y/N: Steve mom needs help.

Y/N: Come home now!

Y/N: Please!!

Y/N: Answer your phone.

Steve immediately called you back but you didn’t answer. The urgency came from the first message that was obviously from Eli. He wasn’t sure how he missed yours and Peter’s calls but he left Sharon forgotten in his VIP section and headed back home with Sam and Bucky.

Eli and Peter were sleeping. Dom had gone to a weekly poker game with his friends. The house was quiet and you have wanted to take advantage of the bathtub in your room for a while. So that’s what you did. You lit some candles and added epsom salts and oils into the water. It was perfect. With some music playing softly in the background the only thing missing was a glass of wine. You grabbed your robe and headed downstairs with the intention of pouring yourself some.

It was while passing Elijah’s room that something felt off. While you left the door ajar it was opened a little too wide. Then there was a smell of cigarette smoke that bothered you. Especially after asking Steve not to smoke around him. You knew that request bothered him but he wouldn’t go do anything to harm Eli either. So you crept up to the door and peered inside just to make sure Eli was still asleep. You could see him on the bed sleeping soundly but the cigarette smoke clung in the air heavily. Since the room was dark other than the sliver of light that illuminated the bed you struggled to make anything else out.

You hear it before you see it. The deep inhale in the corner of the room. Then the lit cigarette. The person smoking takes a step out of his hiding place and you can barely make out his short slicked back hair and large frame. Your breathing stops as you stare at this stranger in your son’s room.

“Well what do we have here?” It’s almost a whisper but it sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“Get out of this room right now.”

The stranger walked closer to you. He was tall and obviously strong. You were sure he would overpower you but he was a threat to your son. You’d do anything to protect him. With every step he took you took one back in the hopes of leading him out into the hallway.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Rogers must be treating you well if you walk around like that.” He motioned toward your robe which had loosened and revealed your bra. He licked his lips as he eyed you. “The kid might be a bit of a mood killer though.”

You wrapped the robe around yourself tightly and headed towards the stairs. He stalked towards you with a predatory gaze in his eyes. Before you could get to the top of the stairs he grabs the back of your neck, pressing his body against your. One hand wraps around your throat and the other starts roaming your body.

“That’s no way to treat a guest, Honey.” He whispered in your ear before sniffing your hair.

“Let me go.”

“Show me a good time and maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll keep you.”

He started dragging back into the hallway and opened the first door he found.

“No. Please don’t.” You tried to push against him in hopes of avoiding being thrown into the bed. But he was taller and obviously stronger than you.

“You should cooperate sweetheart. Maybe I’ll go easy on ya.”

You're thrown onto the bed. The robe you were wearing is now open, exposing your bra and revealing the shorts you were wearing. You cry and beg as your attacker moves to crawl over you, his lips find their way to your neck as he holds your hands above your head with one hand. His grip is hard and painful. The other he uses to keep your face still as he kisses you. He pulls back and smirks down at you.

“Look at you, you’re so pretty when you cry.” He laughs as he moves around in order to undress you. In a moment of desperation you kick your feet up and manage to kick him in his groin. “You fucking cunt.” In his moment of weakness you kick higher this time and your foot connects with his face. He grabs his nose and starts cursing at you but you’re moving away from him.

You ran faster this time in hopes of getting down the stairs. As long as he was away from Eli you didn’t care what happened to you.

“Dumb whore. I was going to be good to you but now you’re fucked. When I’m done with you, you’ll never see the kid again.” He yelled as he followed you down the stairs. “Stop running or I’ll go back up there and shoot the kid.”

Turning to look over your shoulder slowly you saw the gun aimed at you.

“I really only came here for one thing. You see your little fuck buddy, Rogers, he has an associate of mine.” He says while taking a few steps down towards you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Elijah creep out of his room. He stood there unmoving as he watched a stranger pull a gun out on his mom. You prayed he would go hide again and were relieved when he moved away from the railing.

On the landing that led to the second floor you stood looking up at the intruder. He takes slow deliberate steps just to show you that he was in control. Your tear stained cheeks do nothing to deter his attack.

“If you tell me where he is,” he pulls his phone out and shows you a picture. “I won’t have the kid watch what I do to you. I won’t sell him off to the highest bidder either.”

A door opens up at the end of the hall. He stops on the last step so that he’s hidden from whoever is there.

“Y/N?” Peter’s sleepy voice breaks the tense silence. “Y/N, I need some help.”

The stranger takes a peek around the corner and sees Peter making his way down slowly. You take his distraction and charge at him full force hoping to at least knock him down and get the gun away from him. Barreling into him, shoulder first, he falls back. It wasn’t so much your strength but catching him off guard that helped you. He groaned as he grabbed his head, a small amount of blood started to trickle from the apparent gash at the back. While it looked like it hurt it didn’t completely knock your aggressor out.

“Peter, get back in your room. Call Steve or anyone tell them to get back now.” You yelled before running down the stairs with the gun in your hand.

Not even hitting his head against a few steps slows down your attacker. It forces you to head into the kitchen instead of outside. You turn on your heel and hold the gun up, pointing it at him.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you.” You say.

“Really? I don’t think you’ve ever used a gun before.”

“First time for everything.” You reply. “On your knees.” The gun is still pointed at him but it shakes almost violently in your hands.

He smirks and takes another step closer. The gun goes off but it hits the floor. It makes your hands shake even more.

“Don’t. Move.” You say through gritted teeth.

There’s movement behind him and then Peter is telling you to move. The intruder turns around to face Peter knowing you won’t be able to shoot. He still gets shot once in the shoulder and in each kneecap forcing him to the ground. When you stand from behind the kitchen island you see Peter standing with a gun in his hand, suppressor attached.

“Are you ok?” He asks while keeping his gun aimed down at the intruder.

“I think so.” You say with a shaky voice while looking him over. “You’re bleeding.”

“I think I ripped my stitches.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up. Let me just-“ you look around unsure of what you can use to restrain him. “I’ll be right back.” You run down the steps to the basement on wobbly legs.

“We can use this.”

You say as you get to the top stair with some rope. Peter nods but grimaces at any slight movement.

“What do I do?” You look up at Peter.

“Y/N, Peter?”

“In the kitchen.” You yell out.

Coulson’s quick steps echo throughout the otherwise quiet home. He stares at the scene in front of him bewildered for just a moment.

“Give me the rope.” He says and moves into action.

You help Peter get to the couch. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit ok? I’ll be right back.”

“Hey,” he catches your hand. “Go check on Eli first, this can wait a few minutes.”

He saw the relief in your eyes and the way your tense shoulders slumped.

You run up the stairs and head directly to his room where you find the door locked.

“Elijah, baby it’s me.” You knock. “Baby please open the door. It’s ok.”

The door opens and Eli’s crying face comes into view.

“Mom.” He rushes to you, burying his face in your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“It’s ok, it’s safe now. Are you ok?”

You feel him nodding against you. The only thing you can do is hug him back and assure him that he’s ok. After a few minutes you pull away, kneeling to get a better look at him and make sure there are no marks on him.

“Why was that man here? Why did he want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You brush away his tears. “Let’s go sit.”

Eli takes your hand and walks back into his room. You aren’t sure if it’s him shaking or you but it’s almost uncontrollable.

“I tried to call and text Steve but he didn’t answer.” He holds out your phone.

“You did a good job, come here.”

You take your phone and call Steve immediately but there’s no answer. Then you call Sam and Bucky and still nothing. You send them all a few texts and you start to worry that they have been hurt. Dom answers right away and he tells you that he’ll be back in a few minutes. After that you sit against the headboard and bring Elijah to sit on your lap and you hold him tight like when he was a baby. The only thing you could do now was wait.

Steve flew through traffic in order to make it back as fast as he could. His mind raced as he tried and failed to get an answer from you. He came up with the worst case scenarios of what could be happening. All Steve hoped was that you and Eli were ok no matter what the issue was. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to either of you.

Sam and Bucky weren’t far behind when Steve finally pulled into the driveway of his mansion. Immediately he knew something was way off. The normal guards that were posted around the perimeter were missing. He grabbed his gun as he stepped out of his car. When he looked backed, Sam and Bucky also had their guns out.

Steve rushed to the door, opening it without warning. His gun was up as he walked in with Sam and Bucky behind him. They walk into the living room only to find Peter sitting back on the couch, his hand putting pressure on the area where he had been stitched up previously. Dom was fussing over him trying to help stop the bleeding.

“Peter? What happened?” Steve asked, getting the attention of the semiconscious young man.

“There’s this guy. He broke in.”

“I have him down in the room.” Coulson stepped out of the kitchen. “I got an alert from the security alarm. I got here just as Peter shot him. It seems he had his eyes set on Y/N.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Peter answers. “With Eli.”

Steve looks back and Bucky lifts his chin up towards the stairs.

“We’ll go see who this idiot is.”

“Get Peter medical help and find out what happened to the guards.”

“Clint and Nat are on their way.” Coulson says. “I’ll have them take Peter in.”

Steve nods and heads upstairs. He takes two at a time until he reaches the third floor. His heart is beating out of his chest as he walks up to Eli’s room, worried about the state he would find you in. He knocks but doesn’t get an answer so he opens the door and takes a peek inside. The cigarette smoke still lingers but he doesn’t find either you or Eli. Steve walks out and heads to your room, knocking a bit more harshly than he intended too.

“Y/N? Can you open up?” Steve calls out. After a minute the door opens and your tear stained face peeks out.

“Steve.” You whimper when you finally see him.

“C’mere, baby.” Steve pulls you into his chest. He feels your whole body trembling and his arms tighten around you. “Are you ok? Is Elijah?”

You nod against his chest and begin to sob now that Steve was there.

“It’s over. You’re safe.” Steve murmured.

He kept as calm as he could but he felt nothing but rage. Not only did someone think they could just walk into his home without any repercussions, they also terrorized you. There would be hell to pay once he was downstairs to get the necessary information.

“Do either of you need to see a doctor?”

“No. We’re ok, just shaken up a bit.” You reply as you finally look up at him again.

“Alright. What about you? Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did he do anything to you?”

You avert your eyes and Steve’s stomach drops.

“What did he do? Did he touch you?” Steve’s voice hardened. There was this underlying and unsettling sharpness to it.

You nodded. Steve took a deep breath while he slowly pulled away and turned his back towards you. He ran a hand over his beard as he thought about all the ways he was going to rip the asshole that dared touch you apart.

Steve turned back to look at you. “Did he force hi-“

“Tried to. I got away from him before he could.”

“Ok.” Steve takes a deep breath. “C’mon let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”

Once Steve realizes that you’re asleep he leaves the room quietly. He walks down to the first floor to find out what the hell is going on in his own home. There will be hell to pay for this, not just for the disrespect of breaking into his house but for what you went through.

“Update, now.” He demands.

“The idiot that broke in is none other than Jack Rollins. Apparently he was looking for Beck when he stumbled upon Eli’s room.” Bucky says. “He’s a sick twisted bastard from what Peter told me he heard.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve starts rolling up his sleeves. He heads for the basement door with Bucky on his heels.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?” He growls but continues toward the basement door.

“Steve, think about this.” Bucky says. “We could get information out of him if we do this right.”

Steve stops and turns to look at Bucky and the rest of his team.

“He put his hands on Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about information.”

Bucky’s eyes harden at the new information.

“I’ll come with you.”

The two men walk down to the basement and into the soundproof room. Sam was standing over Rollins, who already had a few cuts and scrapes along with the gunshot wounds. Steve doesn’t waste any time at all as he connects his fist with Rollin’s jaw. The man, who had been tied to a chair, falls backwards.

“I’m guessing that pretty little thing you have upstairs told you about our time together.” Rollins chuckles. “She was real sweet.0

Steve lands a few more hits before he stretches his hand out behind him. Bucky already knows what Steve wants and hands him a knife. Steve inspects it carefully before looking down at the man below him.

“Oohh should I be-Aahh.” Rollins screams when Steve plunges the knife into the bullet wound on his shoulder. Blood splatters into Steve’s face but it doesn’t deter him.

****

When Steve finally stopped his assault he was covered in blood. Steve’s anger hadn’t subsided even as he walked back into the kitchen. The others were gathered around the island talking about what happened when he joined them.

“Has anyone checked in on Y/N?” He asked.

“Still sleeping boss.”

He nods and starts walking out. “I’ll be back in about 10 minutes. I want to know everything when I come back.”

Steve goes up to his room to shower and change quickly. Then he heads back down to the kitchen. Dom has a cup of coffee ready for him. The sun was just starting to light up the sky. Steve grabs his cup and takes a sip.

“What do we have?” He asks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.

“Rollins killed some of the guards around the perimeter, enough to slip by undetected. He hacked the security system. He couldn’t completely deactivate it but he delayed the notification Coulson would get.” Clint said.

“He was looking for Beck. But he won’t say anything else.”

“What should we do now?” Bucky asks.

“First I want him out of the house. Get him some medical attention, I’m not done with him just yet.” Steve orders. “Let’s double up the guards. Let’s have Jensen double check the security system and upgrade whatever needs to be upgraded.”

“How is Peter doing?”

Steve and the rest of the group turn to see you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Even though you slept most of the night you look exhausted. Eyes are red and slightly swollen as if you’d just been crying.

“Peter’s fine. He just ripped some stitches, he’s in his room sleeping.” Nat tells you.

You nod as Dom walks over to you.

“Want some coffee, Mia Cara?”

You shake your head. Dom opens his arms for you and you step into his embrace. The older man pats your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re safe now, Mia Cara. We won’t let anything like this happen again. You hear me?” He reassures you.

You just nod against his chest. Everyone silently shuffles out of the kitchen. Dom places a chaste kiss on your forehead and leaves, giving you and Steve some privacy.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks as he gets up and moves towards you.

You shrug. Other than being worried about Eli you were numb to the whole situation.

“Baby, look at me.” Steve says softly. He tucks a finger under your chin and pulls up so that you have to look at him.

You’re fighting back tears for what felt like the millionth time.

“Tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about some time away from here? We can get away for a weekend and take Eli somewhere fun. What do you say?” Steve offers.

It angered him all over again to see you like this. A shell of who you really are. Your arms wrapped around yourself. Steve didn’t like seeing you down like this although it was completely understandable.

You shrug again in response and he sighs.

“Why don’t you go rest for a little bit longer and I’ll have Dom make you something and bring it up.”

“I can’t.” You mumble as you look around the room.

“Why?”

“I have to work.”

“You’re joking right? You aren’t going to be working today. Regina will be in any minute now, she’ll do what she can. You worry about taking care of yourself and Eli.” Steve says as he leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room.

In the distance you hear the door that is normally used by the house staff to come in and out.

“See, that's probably Regina right now. I’ll talk to her.”

You gasp when Regina appears in the doorway. She’s sporting a black eye, busted lip, bruises around her throat and she’s holding her side as if it hurt. You rush over to her to make sure she’s ok.

“What happened?”

“The-these men they-they broke into my house early this morning.” She sobbed before hiding her face in your shoulder.

“Fuck. Bucky, Sam.” Steve yells for them. The two men rush out of the hallway that leads to Steve’s office.

“What happened?” Bucky asks once he sees Regina crying.

You tell them what she had just said since she couldn’t control her crying. Both men look back at Steve, the same anger in their eyes. Dom and Coulson soon join the others.

“Do you know who did this?” You ask her as you guide her to the couch.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. I was sleeping when they broke in.” Regina sniffles.

“Did they say what they wanted?”

Regina nods. “They told me that I had to get whatever information that I could on you and report back to them.”

“I have a few questions.”

“Ask away.”

“How did they know you work for me?” Steve asks and you look between him and Regina.

“I don’t know, maybe they had been following me?”

“Why tell me?”

Regina swallows thickly as tears well up in her eyes again. “Well everyone here has been so nice to me, and this is the first job I don’t have to get almost naked to get money for,” She sighs, wincing due to her injured ribs. “I didn’t want to ruin what I had here. But my grandma, she’s in a nursing home and they had pictures of her. They said that they’d hurt me and make her watch.”

“They said the same about me and Eli.”

“Wait what?” Regina looks at you confused.

“Someone broke in last night.”

“What is happening?” Regina asked. She was scared and so were you. The only difference was that you knew Steve would make things right.

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out. In the meantime you can’t go back to your place.” Steve tells her. “We’ll have someone pick up some clothes for you and have a doctor look you over. Do you think you could recognize these men if you saw them again?”

“Maybe. Oh wait,” Regina grabs her phone. “Would a video help?”

“You have a video of them?”

She looks at Bucky and nods. “I installed a doorbell camera and a camera in the living room. Here, you can definitely see their faces.”

“You have a camera in your living room?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“I live alone and I’m single. There have been some break ins around the neighborhood. I was trying to protect myself.” She says as she hands the phone over to Bucky.

Sam and Steve huddle around Bucky to look at the video Regina had. They see her being dragged out of her room and beaten. Unfortunately they didn’t recognize the men in the video but they would find them nonetheless.

“Thank you for this. I don’t know who they are but we’re going to find them.” Steve tells her. “Y/N can I talk to you for a minute?”

You get up and follow Steve into his office where he closes the door behind you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Steve after watching him pace back and forth for a few minutes. “Is it about whoever broke into Regina’s place?”

Steve leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ll most likely have to be out more. At least while I track these sons of bitches down.”

“Ok, and?”

“Will you be ok here? After last night… I’m doing everything to make sure this place is more secure.”

“Ok.”

“I’m also going to assign Nat to be with you whenever you go out. I know you’re independent but I need you to do as she says if something were to happen.”

“Do you think someone would try to hurt me again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean look at what they did to Regina and she hasn’t even been here that long. I’m not going to risk you and Eli being in danger again.” Steve pushes himself off the desk and walks over to you. “It should’ve never happened in the first place. I’m going to handle this.”

“I’m more worried about Elijah than myself.”

“Of course you are because you’re a good mom.” Steve cups your face when he sees your eyes start getting glassy. “You just take care of him like you always do and I’ll keep you both safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Ch. 8

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#hearts munition series #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #mob boss!steve rogers #mob au #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x mom!reader #single mom!reader #Captain America au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #Steve rogers series #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

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babyjakes · 2 months

Text

consider the following:

(warnings: slightly above canon level violence, child abuse, major character death)

a few high-ranking hydra members finding some sick pleasure in tormenting steve about bucky’s captivity. steve and the team know about bucky’s capture/the winter soldier, but they haven’t been able to rescue him from captivity yet. hydra regularly mails steve videotapes of bucky being tortured, forced to commit atrocities, and wiped at the end of it all.

then one day, new videos start arriving. they feature a tiny baby girl, not even a year old. big bambi eyes and wispy brown hair, and the tapes are labeled with black sharpie: baby barnes.

the sounds of the babies cries are cemented into steve’s brain as he watches the horror show alone, on his old cassette player, in the darkness of his small apartment. the team tried talking him out of watching them, but he wouldn’t let up. if the baby was tortured just for the sake of him seeing it, the least he could do was witness her suffering.

the particular tapes that keep him up at night are those where bucky is forced into a white room with a panel of glass down the center. he sits silently on one side, while the baby is allowed to roam free on the other. she presses right up against the glass, smacking her tiny hands against it weakly, sobbing loudly for her daddy. but bucky can’t move to comfort her, not even an inch, due to the gun pressed harshly to his forehead.

three or four tapes come like this, before steve begins noticing changes in the tiny girl. eventually she learns that her daddy will not save her; he won’t even look at her. she stops approaching the glass, stops crying, stops hoping for any love or attention from the man on the other side of the room. she learns to crawl weakly to the opposite corner, curling up on her tummy, chewing her little fingers as a fleeting attempt to comfort herself.

a few months after the baby’s first appearance, bucky makes a grave mistake on a mission, and is put down like a sick dog when he returns to his captors. like everything else, steve watches from the silence of his home. a few weeks go by with no further mail, and steve fears the baby could’ve met the same fate as her father.

then one day, an unlabeled box is left outside steve’s door. when he brings it inside and opens it on his living room floor, he finds baby barnes, asleep with a makeshift iv pumping sedatives through her tiny veins.

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lanabuckybarnes · 2 months

Text

So…I’ve started a lil Steve Rogers series, I’ve written out 2 chapters and have a third in mind. I wanna share a lil bit about it and a snippet with you and see if you’re interested 🤭🤭

Professor!Steve Rogers x Tutor!Reader. Reader is in her 20s and has a baby with her deadbeat boyfriend. After losing her job she becomes frantic, searching for anything — the only job that responds is a high school looking for a tutor conveniently in the subject she excelled in. It’s here she meets Professor Rogers, a 40 something History professor who’s taken a liking to her sweet little face.

Snippet of Prolouge/First Chapter:

“Hey I mean it’s no big deal right?”

“It’s a very big deal Max! A very big fucking deal” You scream, launching a pillow at his stupid head. He’d done it again; run up a debt to keep himself high and now he crawls to you for the money.

“You can just do some extra shifts, a couple hours extra each day isn’t that bad!”

Lemme know if you’re interested!!

Also a special lil thanks to @delicatebarness who has been reading all about this man and who will definitely be reading more about him 🤭🤭

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers fic #steve rogers series #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #professor!steve rogers x Tutor!reader #lanabuckybarnesworks #lanabuckybarnesrambles #lanabuckybarnes #lanabuckybarnessnippets

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jen-with-a-pen · 6 months

Text

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people.

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest.

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista.

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention.

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider.

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense.

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense.

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper.

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement.

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back.

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall.

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back.

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?"

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration.

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes.

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm.

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–"

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt.

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot.

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one.

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started.

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back.

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that.

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts.

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix.

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand.

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Bad Bosses AU

The Devil Wears Armani | Tony Stark

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

Office Space | Nick Fowler & Jonathan Pine

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

Monster, Inc. | Lloyd Hansen

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Code of Conduct | Steve Rogers

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

Backburner | Sam Wilson

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

Paradigm Shift | Bucky Barnes & Loki

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

Unorthodox | Captain Syverson

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is.

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away The blues walked in and met me Oh, yeah if he stays away Old rocking chair’s gonna get me All I do is pray...’

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you.

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones.

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent.

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue.

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight.

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line.

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized.

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides.

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive.

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang.

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness.

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here.

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward.

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?”

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily.

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top.

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America.

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses.

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly.

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm.

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.”

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place.

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right?

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs.

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?”

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.”

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow.

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?”

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.”

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint.

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?”

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek.

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl.

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.”

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?”

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction.

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.”

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him.

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.”

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers.

“Sure, it’s three.”

“Number?”

“310.”

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign.

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him.

“It’s unlocked,” you say.

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table.

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly.

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through.

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.”

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.”

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you.

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath.

“You okay?” He turns the question on you.

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile.

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance.

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...”

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.”

“Right,” you work more diligently.

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity.

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?”

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are.

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial.

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?”

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach.

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut.

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.”

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand.

“You must be pretty far along,” he says.

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.”

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?”

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.”

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack.

“So, you want some?” You ask.

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.”

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.”

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--”

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say.

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.”

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.”

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...”

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods.

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #roads untraveled #silverfox au #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months

Text

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

a/n: and that's it for fused with the foe! but don't you worry, our wonderful king and queen will return in both of the next instalments of the series ♡ (the release date for the next one is already up on the masterlist)

summary: “I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, love confession, crying, kissing, loss of virginity, semi-public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, oral, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 3895

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Raising yourself up onto your tip toes, your fingertip still didn’t even manage to graze the spine of the tome you were trying to reach, only the tall shelf it stood on.

But just then, before you could turn to get a chair to balance on, an inked hand came into view and grasped the book for you.

“The Biology of Soil: A Farmer’s Comprehensive Study of Dirt,” Barnes dryly read the title out loud, “sounds absolutely riveting.”

“Don’t mock,” you snatched the leatherbound tome out of the knight’s hand, “it is interesting!”

“Of course, it is, your majesty,” he bit down a chuckle, “my apologies.”

A soft laugh couldn’t help but bubble out of you as you exited the library, “you know, you remind me a lot of my brothers.”

Walking at your side, he shot you a squint, “is that a compliment?”

“Well, I meant it as so, but I guess it could also be interpreted as an insult, all depending on which brother.”

Sinking further back into the plush armchair, your eyes danced from star to star as they glinted back at you through the big library window.

The full moon was so bright that you hadn’t needed to light a candle in order to make out the sentences in the open book that rested in your lap.

But suddenly, the creak of the heavy double doors to the chamber found your ears and when you twisted your head to discover who it was, your frame immediately sprung up from your comfortable seat. The forgotten tome tumbled to the floor with a dull thump as the embroidered dressing gown you wore over your ivory chemise fluttered around your legs as you swiftly stood.

“Your majesty–, Steve, I mean, Steve,” you clumsily corrected yourself, “hi, hello.”

“Evening,” he simply smiled, slowing his stride as he watched you bend down to pick the hardback off the floor.

Hugging the book to your chest, you blew out a breath, “what–, uh…” you eyed the loose linen shirt he had sloppily tugged into his trousers, “what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, “thought a boring novel might do the trick,” letting his fingertips kiss the ends of each bookcase as he neared you by the window, “what about you?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” a soft sigh flowed from your lips, “my mind just doesn’t seem to wanna settle down these days…”

A gentle furrow appeared to Steve’s brow, “what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you placed the book down on the round side table by the armchair.

“If it’s keeping you up then it’s not nothing,” gripping the tall back of the chair, he rested against it as he gazed at your visage in the moonlight, “come on, you can talk to me.”

The knot in your chest tightened, “no, I can’t,” and you averted your gaze to the stone floor, “I really can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because–…” clenching your jaw in an effort to keep tears at bay, you briefly shot him a glare as you snapped, “because I just can’t, alright?” squeezing your eyes shut, you quietly muttered just beneath your breath, “gods… how long will I have to wait…”

Having apparently had better hearing than you’d thought, Steve then queried, “wait for what?”

Fluttering your eyes back open, you met his gaze and uttered sombrely, “…for it to pass…” feeling your heart thump painfully in your chest just from the mere sight of him.

A low sigh slowly seeped out of his lungs before his unwavering gaze averted to the upholstery of the chair, “…I hope you know that I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. You’re a very dear friend,” he uttered with the utmost sincerity, “and as a dear friend, I wish for you nothing but the purest of happiness. I want you to experience all of the great and wonderful things that life has to offer,” his ocean eyes then drifted back up to catch yours, “don’t let our union hold you back for any of that.”

Sucking in a breath, you asked, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

Averting your gaze, “…is that what you want?” you dug your nails into your opposite palm, “for us both to openly be with other people?”

“I don’t want you to be lonely and depressed,” fragments of desperation resonated in his tone, “you’ve already experienced more than one lifetime of hardships and I really don’t want this to be another one. So, when you fall in love, please don’t hesitate. You of all people deserve to experience that.”

“…I–…” a shaky breath escaped you, “I can’t–…”

“…you can’t?” he echoed in nearly a whisper.

“I can’t because–…” lifting your gaze, the library around you grew more blurry by the second, “because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you revealed, “from the moment that I wake to even the dreams that possess me at night. I can not shake you from my thoughts no matter how hard I try,” as you blinked, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, “Steve, I wish for you to experience those very joys you speak of just as fiercely. I just want you to be happy even if I’m not the source.”

Looking as if he was scarcely breathing at all, his gaze stayed fixed upon you as he uttered, “dove, why do you think I wish that for you?” your eyes grew wide at his confession, “I don’t wanna be with someone else when you are the one I want by my side,” his fingers faltered from the grip they had on the back of the armchair as his slow steps began to carry him closer to where you stood, “not just as my queen, but as my friend, as my conscience, as my judgement, as my heart,” his eyes glistened as he then declared, “I am yours, Y/n. I didn’t plan for it, I don’t even know when it happened or how, but I do know that it’s true.”

Closing the short distance that remained, you walked up and pulled him down as you began to rise up to your tip toes. As you crashed your lips against his, it didn’t take long before you felt his broad hands glide over your waist.

Breaking the kiss, you retracted just enough to catch the beguiling look in his eye. The corners of his lips drew up dreamily just as yours did right before you dove back in.

As your fingers weaved in his beard, so did his tongue as it danced against your own, making you lightheaded as your feet began to shuffle back, though you didn’t realise that you’d even been moving till your spine crashed against a sturdy bookcase.

Parting momentarily at the impact, a soft giggle swiftly followed your initial squeak the collision conjured. As his gentle chuckle echoed your own, Steve’s palm caressed down your features before he captured your lips once more.

When the fire inside of you crackled and burned too hot for you to ignore, you pulled back, a glossy string of saliva still kept you connected a moment before you gasped, “Steve, I–… I–…”

Resting his palms over yours as they clutched the top of his tunic, he tilted his chin back further, “what?” creating enough of a distance between you to truly check in.

But how you were going to ask of him what you desired remained a mystery, no matter how hard you scrambled your fuzzy mind. So instead, you wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists and slowly guided it lower.

“Dove…” he sucked in a breath as his gaze shadowed the journey you were taking his touch on, “do you wanna–…” finding your eye, he asked you softly, “you sure you know what it is you’re asking for?”

“Yes,” swiftly flowed out of you as you nodded dizzily, “I–… I know. I read the books, I read all of them, I know how it all works,” your rushed words conjured a lovely little chuckle from the royal, “I just–… please?” your hot breathed fanned across his features as he leaned back in close, “I–… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” with your fingers still enveloped around his wrist, his touch slowly began to take over and to move on its own, “fantasising about what you might be like…” unhurriedly ghosting up and down the curve of your waist, “about what your touch must feel like…” each time creeping closer and closer to where you wished for him to caress, “how it differs compared to my own…” till his teasing touch ended each fluttering swoop with feather-light grazes at both the swell of your tits, as well as the lower part of your abdomen, just before he actually reached anything real, through still leaving you utterly dazed.

Leaning a forearm against the shelf behind you, he smirked, “…you think about me?”

“Every night,” you dug your fingers in the fabric of your chemise and pleadingly began to hike it up, “sometimes the sun doesn’t even manage to set before I need a moment alone… all because of you.”

As he then captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his wandering hand dipped under your thin shift before you’d even raised the hem completely. When his touch found your buzzing pearl, a whimper slipped from your lungs and vibrated against his tongue as your grip on the fabric faltered and it dropped to hang around his wrist like a curtain.

“Is this how you dreamed about me touching you?” he gazed down at you, smiling at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Mind melting to ooze, you bubbled, “yes–, but also–, oh!” your brows knit together as he switched to circle your clit harder, “a-also–”

“Also how?” you could hear your want reverberate off the palace walls as he touched you, “did you dream about me kissing you down here?” holding your gaze, Steve then sank to his knees before you.

Your breaths came in ragged as you blinked down at him, “y-yes,” watching intently as he dipped his head under your gathered-up skirts. The sloppy pecks he then lavishly began to plant over your glistening petals felt like nothing you’d ever imagined, “oh, that’s–,” you let out a broken moan, “don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Throwing your head back against the bookcase, Steve’s grip buried in your crumbled clothes as his soft tongue dragged through your desperation.

Letting go of your chemise with one hand, it drifted down your hip. Enclosing his lips around your throbbing clit, he sucked down hard as his fingers joined to sweep through your mess, only parting from you for a breath, “gods, you taste so fucking good,” before he eased one digit inside your clenching cunt.

You barely noticed that it was falling before the robe you wore slipped off your frame and tumbled to a puddle on the floor, leaving you with only the thin shift and the king’s hot kisses for warmth in the cold night.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whimpered, reaching down to thread your fingers in his honied hair as a second finger sneaked in beside the other, fucking you gently with them.

You nearly wiggled out of his grasp when his luscious laps unravelled you completely, but somehow the monarch managed to follow your every squirm till he softened his efforts and replaced them with a few soft pecks over your sensitive clit that made your whole form twitch.

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard.

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.”

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet.

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past.

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night.

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet.

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth.

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him.

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair.

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth.

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded.

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip.

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night.

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were.

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath.

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move.

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp.

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him.

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock.

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts.

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were.

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you.

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase.

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt.

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head.

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close.

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric.

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl.

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently.

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth.

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole.

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind.

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?”

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

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anonymityisfunwriter · 7 months

Text

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

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