#Roger Ce

[horsefriends]

Ajusco, Ciudad de México, México by Roger Ce

[krirebr]

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

Eight

Nine

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

[brandycranby]

ce characters as sandwiches 🫡✨️🥪 bc im always hungry

steve: a good ol cheeseburger with onions and steamed buns, square patty, lovingly flipped by George Motz himself at Hamburger America. classic and filling. the smell of him lifts you up on your tippy toes. would be sold for $3 if the economy would allow it

andy: heckin i-talian sausage sandwich from Costco. top tier dad order shouted from the checkout line. meant to be eaten in the car frantically and kind of pissed off bc costco overstimulates you but you got great deals. it's like a reward *munch munch*

ari: REUBEN. big ass beef stack. tangy sauerkraut = sassy crunch. unhinge your fucking jaw and maul it, let that deep rye flavor punch you in the face. gives your tongue crumb burn but that's why you get it again and again. probably not great for you in the long run with all that salt but who cares?

cole: peanut butter and honey sandwich with sliced banana in the middle. your grandad's favorite sandwich, it was a treat back in the 50s. kind of underrated. the type of food that makes you think of the times you were a little kid and mam made you a treat after school.

ransom: a club sandwich with a fancy metal pick stabbed through the middle. a bitch to make and a bitch to eat but damn, if it isnt pretty good. you have to be in the club to have him though. very exclusive, have to get it juuuuust right or else it's disgusting

curtis: he's a thick ol philly cheesesteak period. hot, filling, cheesy, and fragrant. an instant pick me up, a siren call of carbs and fat. you know if he had a regular backstory, he'd be a philly boy. get some water ice w that sandwich and take a nap after.

jake: specifically a Wendy's spicy chicken sandwich pre-2019. crispy, leaves a lil bit of a tingle on your tongue but won't burn you up. affordable, reliable, and fun to have with an ice cold sprite. golden days in your 20s. makes me want a college sweetheart

lloyd: open face smoked salmon sandwich with red onion, goat cheese, and fresh dill. one slice short of a full sandwich and always makes you acknowledge that he's looking fine. makes u feel like u have your life together but you're going insane actually

colin: an italian hoagie from Wawa and im going to die on this hill. fight me >:3

---

hi it's been a while 🥺 im back and being silly on main hehe i look forward to sandwich discourse in the reblogs 😌🫶🏻

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 1: Old Letters (Re-written)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (referred to as Petal) Word Count: 2,787 Summary: Lost and alone after moving to DC Steve visits the Smithsonian and stumbles upon a face he thought he’d never see again. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: grief, loss, angst, mental health, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Reader insert, no use of Y/N A/N: Yes, this is a little re-write of something I already posted. And yes I like it better this way. Rewrite of chapter two is incoming as well. This is going to be a pretty slow updating fic, because I actively want to make the chapters longer, but I have a small child so writing time is limited. So, IF YOU WOULD LIKED TAGGED, let me know I'll add you to a list <3 Beta read by the ever lovely @voice-of-velhart

Next chapter

The mind numbing cadence of the narrator should have been comforting. Steve was sure it was to others, the simple clear baritone voice explaining the exhibits around him for those who either could not read or could not retain written words. It was one of the accessibility he would have loved to see when he was a young disabled man in the 40’s. One of those rare things that gave him hope for the growth of humanity. But today, as he wandered through the exhibit that laid out his life like a textbook he couldn’t help but want the voice to stop. 

Stop talking about his friends and loved ones like they were these lofty historical beings that were lost to the sands of time. Stop talking about Bucky and Dugan and Morita and Jones like they were heroes or icons... And talk about them as people. The way Pinky snored like a lumberjack once you were anywhere above sea level. Or the way Dugan could drink anyone under the table and still manage to steal a tank single handed.  Or the way Falsworth could get him laughing so hard it would almost give away their location if Bucky didn’t punch the shit out of his arm to keep him silent. 

It was all so long ago now. To the patrons and children who ran around oohing and ahhing over the glory that was the tale of Captain America. And not the tangible raw memory that lived in his head day in and day out. He kept his mouth shut, throat bobbing as he made his way silently through the different collections of his life. The memorials and exhibit pieces that should be his and not locked behind glass. 

He winced as the voice over head got small things wrong. Like his actual birthday. Or the make and model of his motorcycle even though it was sitting right there behind a velvet rope. It wouldn’t have taken a curator very long to fix those little things but he had a feeling this particular set piece hadn’t been a hot spot until a year or so ago when he had been pulled from the ice, and clearly whoever had been in charge had been too busy finding new set pieces to fix the clerical errors in the script. It wasn’t like he was gonna call them and correct them. He would settle for just grumbling in his head like an old man. 

It wasn’t a bad showcase, all things considered. Nothing the Smithsonian did was. They were America’s most famous museum for a reason. But it did make Steve's chest ache. He had been avoiding coming here for most of his time in DC, what did they have here that he could possibly find productive? But then he heard something interesting.

"The disappearance  Mrs. Rogers has been a mystery that has plagued historians and scientists alike for generations…"

Petal, well not actually Petal, that was what he had called her in private. In his letters home. No, the voice overhead had called her Mrs. Rogers. Referred to his wife and that had Steve's full attention. Following the lead of the vocal guide he wandered to a small set piece in the back. A large gallery wall, set with pictures and letters and memorabilia from his life at home, things he had been told were sealed away, littered the glass cases of the exhibit. His wife, his love, plastered all over the wall for the world to see. It didn't matter that her name was blocked out. That they had kept her legal name from the public record. Her face. Her words. They were everywhere.

It made him see red.

“Those were private.” he heard himself say as his eyes scanned over the exhaustive catalog of personal conversations between himself and his soulmate. His nails digging crescent shaped indentations into his palms as he began to shake.

Letters and photos that he had thought lost were now plastered up in the god damned Smithsonian. Things he had never, ever wanted anyone else to see. Fears and sorrows he had written with confidence that only the love of his life would read the words. This was too much, it was too far. He could forgive the misinformation and the lack of fact checking. The bike, the medical information, the uniform, the memorial to Bucky. Those were nothing compared to this, And a red hot rage bubbled up inside him as his eyes landed on a very intimate letter that had passed between the two of them. One that had turned his ears hot with lust at the time but now just made his blood turn to ice. 

No. Those were not for anyone else’s eyes.

He had to leave. To storm into the curator's office and demand this portion of the exhibit be taken down immediately. It was a violation of privacy at its deepest level. An injustice that he couldn't stand for. Not in his own exhibit…

He barely heard the giggling of the women as he passed by them. Anger fueling him forward with an almost mission like focus. Causing him to ignore anyone who dared talk to him unless they had the power to shut this down. But something deep inside him tugged. Told him to stop. To listen. His feet halted on their own accord and he perked an ear. Almost frustrated at himself as he listened in instead of pushing forward.

But Steve never ignored his gut. Not even in a time like this.

“No, I’m serious! You look just like her, it's totally eerie! Look!” Steve turned his head to glance at the women. A group of three, dressed in work attire, clearly here on lunch or maybe they worked at one of the buildings. The tall willowy brunette was gesturing at a picture of Petal. A picture from the war bonds tour with his wife all dolled up for the press. “Curl your hair and slap on some red lipstick and you could totally pass as her…”

The woman in the center stood rigidly, her face hidden behind her hair, but he could tell by her posture she was deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I guess a little.” She said in a quiet voice that Steve could barely hear over the crowd and the tour guide. 

“Oh, come off it! You’re like her Doppelganger. I’m kinda getting creeping me out.” Steve dared a step closer so he could see the girl's face. If she looked half as much like his wife as her friends claimed she must be stunning. His wife had been the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And yes, perhaps he was biased but he didn’t care. He knew it to be fact. She was everything and even just seeing a shade of her in this woman was too tempting to pass up.

The girl stared up at the wall, the lights of the display case illuminating her with an otherworldly glow. And Steve felt the air drag from his lungs as if it was being squeezed out of him.

She didn’t look like his wife. That was his wife. He would know her anywhere. Could claim her in the darkest night, half drunk or dying he would know her. The visage of her was etched on his mind like a memorial. The sound of her burned into his heart like a siren's call. That was his wife. She was alive and she was standing right in front of him staring up at their love letters like they were the words of strangers.

How did she not know. More then that how was even she alive at all. It had been over 70 years. She should be an old woman, a distant memory if not already long gone from this world and yet there she was. Looking resplendent in the glow of the display case. Steve's mind whirled as he tried to file through all the information he had on his wife, or rather the absence of information. The utter mystery that had been plaguing his memory since he first busted into time square a year and a half ago.

What happened to you.

It had been one of the first things Steve looked into when he realized he had been gone 70+ years. He had gone on a tirade trying to find hide or hair of what had happened to you or your family after he went MIA. He hadn’t cared if you were old or grey or heaven forbid dead, but he needed to know where you were. He had spent the better part of a month trying and failing to find anything about what had happened to you after the events of February 5, 1945. He had pulled S.H.I.E.L.D. files, missing persons reports, death records, it didn't matter. If he had the means he took it. Slogging through every bit of information he could manage.

Turns out after Steve took the plunge Peggy took it upon herself to find "Petal" and offer her condolences. Only to find an empty apartment and no trace of life. Food left on the counters, coffee half drank in the living room, lights left on… As if you had just gotten up and walked out of your life.

It had been Peggy Carter and Howard Stark who had taken it upon themselves to try and find you. Peggy and Howard that took the letters and sealed them away. Redacted you're name from historical documents when you couldn't be found. Protected Steve and his wife even in death.

It had led him down a rabbit hole of sorts. Conspiracy theories and true crimes cases all about what had happened to Mrs. Rogers. to podcasts and documentaries that frustrated him more than helped, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know. He needed anything, everything that might be an answer. Only to find that his soulmate, the other half of his heart, had vanished around the same time he landed in the ice.  

You and your sisters were a mystery. A conspiracy theory. The display case in front of you said as much. One of the most divisive missing persons cases in American history. Up there with Amelia Earhart and the Somerton man… It had broken his heart. Left him empty and wandering without a sense of closure. He could still feel the bond you had shared, a tunnel of energy that led to somewhere but it was impossible to tell where. Soulmates didn’t work like bloodhounds; you couldn’t just follow the connection until you reached the other end. It was more complicated and the feeling only left him with more questions than answers. 

And now, there you were right there. In front of him looking radiant if not self conscious and the aching tug in his chest was starting to become agonizing. But he couldn’t get his feet to move. As if he had been rooted to the spot where he stood staring like a lost child gazing at the stars. You were just as beautiful as you had always been. And it was hard to move past the simple detail as he stared at her. He was positive in that moment that even if this had been their first encounter he would have been just as speechless as he had been in 1939. And he felt like he could hardly breath as he heard her voice again.

“I don’t know guys, she's beautiful, but I don't see it.” You told your friends. Your eyes scan over the pictures. A strange sensation coming over you as you gazed at the old stills. Meet and greets for the USO tour, Steve kissing his wife goodbye in Chicago, an old photo of the pair together in a park somewhere. The park seemed familiar, but you couldn't place it. Maybe it was back in Brooklyn. You and Captain Rogers were after all from the same borough.

Mary, your friend who has so far been fawning over the love letters and the contents thereof clicks her tongue. “Naww, there is totally a resemblance. Maybe you should ask your grandma if she lost a lover to the war.” she wiggles her brows but you don’t seem impressed. 

“My grandma passed away a very long time ago, and she couldn’t have been Mrs. Rogers because she was soulmates with my papa. But nice try.” you sigh, pulling your arms tight over your chest. “Besides, even if she was, I would only feel bad. I mean look at this! I would hate for the whole world to be able to come and ogle at the love confessions I made to my husband as he was facing down death everyday! It’s kind of cruel in a way. Hanging all of this out for the world to see. Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable to read them all?”

Amanda, the redhead, just shrugged. “I mean she is probably dead. So I doubt she cares.” Steve's hands gripped at his jacket. The callous response has Steve hackles rising up. His girl has shitty friends, or disrespectful ones at least, but at least she still had a heart. Still had empathy for others. Even if she didn’t know that those letters were hers. 

“Yeah but Captain Rogers is alive! I highly doubt he appreciates his private thoughts up on display. I sure wouldn’t.” Your stomach was lurking as you're heart when out to this poor couple whose life had been made into books, and movies, and comics. Their heartache and separation sensationalized for the modern housewife and hormonal teenagers to romanticize. All while ignoring the privacy and wishes of the people involved.

“Since when do you feel so passionate about this. ” The brunette shuffled, starting to look a little ashamed. Good, Steve thought. She should. Everyone ogling at their past heartbreak should 

Steve watched as you seemed to check yourself. “I- I don't know, it just rubs me wrong. It a human decency issue! A violation of privacy!" You turn on your friend with a frown as you realize she really isn't repulsed by this at all. "It's invasive and dehumanizing. It just like Anne Franks diaries being made into a book. It's tragic and horrible. These people went through some of the worst things human beings can process. And we stand her and gawk at their pain.” Steve's chest feels restrictive. Pride and grief twisting around inside it in a harrowing cocktail as he listens to her defend him… Them,

"We shouldn't be here. I'm leaving. And I'm gonna right the museum and tell them how awful this is! That they should be ashamed!" Steve stays back and watches as you turn on your heels and head toward the aviation exhibit. You're friends rolling their eyes at your abundance of empathy. Steve simply ducks his head, to keep you from seeing him as you breeze past. He doesn’t wanna approach you, not yet. He needs to figure out what the hell just happened but as you pull farther away the tug in his chest could crack a rib.

"God, you're so dramatic petal. Are you serious? Really, over old letters from god knows when." Your friend shouted after you. The other rolling her eyes and following the pair. Good to know his girl hadn't lost her spark. Or her sense of justice.

The instinct to turn and follow you is intense. Almost overwhelming but he ignores it. Instead choosing to stay behind and clear his head. Has to have a plan of attack. A strategy. He can’t chase his girl off, he can’t lose her a second time he won't let that happen. No, whatever was happening. Whatever cruel trick of fate this was, he had to outsmart it. Right it. But he knew one thing down to his marrow. That was his soulmate, and she would not slip away from him.

 First thing first, he was gonna get this portion of the exhibit taken down and his letters and pictures returned to him. Then he was going to find out what was wrong with his girl and why she didn't remember. But one thing was for sure he was gonna get her back. Even if he had to start from scratch and make her fall in love with him again, he was getting Petal back now that he knew she was alive. Nothing could stop him.

With a new found purpose and mission Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a few calls. He was gonna get this all squared away so he could focus on the main objective. You.

Found you Petal…

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor This is the version going on the masterlist :)

[royalsweetteaa]

Hi! I really like your HC AU. Could you do one of how Cevans characters would react to reader flinching during an argument?

Oooh I love this idea! 🥹💔 Let’s get to it!

POV: Y/N flinches in midst of an argument.

Warning - The following HC contains: angst/fluff, comfort, reader has hinted trauma.

Steve Rogers

Steve would cut himself off and stare at you. “Doll, why did you wince like that?…did I raise my voice too loud? I didn’t mean to if I did but I….you know me…I have never and wouldn’t…” Steve begins to ramble a little with his words as he processes what just happened. “Who hurt you, my love? Please, tell me…I’m worried…this had to have come from somewhere, right?” Steve asks as he’s ready to receive an explanation while pulling you in to stroke your back gently. He listens, already plotting in his head to pay ‘someone’ a visit responsible for your trauma response.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom raises his eyebrows as he sees you flinch and he furrows, confused. “Kitten,…did you seriously think I was about to hit you just now?” Ransom would ask with his arms crossed. “…Do you think I would steep that low?” A part of him takes offense as he first assumes that’s the whole story, but the pieces pick up slowly that this could have come from a previous encounter. He sighs, realizing he’s handling this poorly. “Darling…I didn’t mean for you to react that way. I hope you’re not scared of me…are you?” He’s relieved when you shake your head, and he decides it’s best if you both take a break from arguing. He comforts you, reassuring there’s nothing to be worried about. He hopes you’ll eventually tell him and explain on your own why you flinched.

Andy Barber

Andy would shut his mouth the moment he sees you flinch, and he would stay still as he processes the moment. When he receives your look of feeling guilty, his face softens, “Oh honey…it’s okay, let’s stop arguing about this and talk about what happened, okay? Did I scare you?” He asks first, not wanting to put much pressure on you. He wants to know right away if it was him who had caused you to flinch, and he wants you to feel safe so he speaks in his most soothing tone. When he sees you’re not reacting negatively to his closeness, he pulls you in to an embrace, making you feel safe.

Jake Jensen

Jake would stiffen, wondering what just happened to make you flinch. “Are you okay? You just flinched as if I was going to…” his heart breaks in a million pieces as he puts two and two together. He carefully takes your hands to give you reassurance. “Baby, what happened? Was it me?…You know you can talk to me about anything…I’m all ears, always.” Jake would reassure as he makes you sit down on the couch with him encouraging a chat about it. This incident would bother Jake for a long time, and he would often catch himself in future mid-arguments asking if he’s not coming across as too aggressive to make sure you won’t react like that ever again.

Johnny Storm

Johnny’s sentence would die out the moment he sees you wince and ask, “What was that?”, distraught and confused. “Did you just…” he doesn’t complete his sentence as he flattens his hands and raises them. “Babe,…I’m never putting my hand on you…my parents, while they died when I was very young raised me good enough to know that’s never okay…I wouldn’t do that even if you called me names or cursed at me like Ben always does!” He makes light out of the situation to distract you and pulls you in to caress you when he sees a small smile form on your lips, already leaving you two to forget about what you were even arguing about.

Ari Levinson

Ari’s response to you flinching would be to take a step back and give space between the two of you. He’s encountered women with traumatic responses before and knows that to deescalate the trigger, he needs to show he isn’t going to do any harm, like raising his hand. He would then say to you in a soothing voice, “Sweetheart,…I apologize if I came off as heated just now…let’s put this aside and think of something else, alright?” He would then crouch down, look up at you and making himself small to further deescalate your trauma response. You would respond getting closer to him and come into his welcoming and warm embrace, as you know Ari’s safe. It’s all forgotten and Ari doesn’t see any point of bringing up the argument again. Your feeling of safety comes first.

Thank you @imyourbratzdoll for helping me out a little on this one! ♥️🥰

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: So That’s What It Means

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Steve finds out something he’s been wondering for awhile

Word count: 3,594

Content/warnings: Kissing, thigh grinding, nice det. Lang, mean det. Walker, soft!Decks, strong!Decks, mentions of death and murder, light mob themes, secrets, old ladies who love to objectify young men, swears, misogyny, pet name usage like one singular time

Author’s Note: Hehehe I’ve been waiting for this one. Turn it up!

I’d love it if you dropped a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think!! (Otherwise, I’m just screaming into the void by myself, which is fine, but I like it when the void screams back)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Just when Steve thought things couldn’t, they got worse. At least on the business end of things. Lloyd seemed like he was closing in. The previous death of that employee from his salon was followed by a string of half a dozen, all working for him and Bucky in different capacities. It included their civilian services, as well as those involved in the undercover operations. This was bad, and was only going to get worse if there wasn’t a plan to step up and put an end to the series of turf wars they’d found themselves in.

On the bright side, which still wasn’t technically great under the circumstances, all these occurrences meant he got to visit the precinct more and see you.

Yours and Lang’s desks were stacking up with cases. They all seemed related, but you weren’t quite sure how yet. And for some reason, you kept seeing Steve coming in for quick interviews. It’s not like you really wanted to complain, though. You wanted to see him, and you were happy for it to happen since this increased work load was making you too exhausted to do more of it outside the station.

As you were doing data entry in your lab with the door cracked open, you saw a tuft of blond hair move into your field of vision above your computer screen. A smile instantly graced your face, but you kept your eyes on the results.

“Steve. Hi. Get into trouble? It’s like you’ve got permanent residence at Lang’s desk.”

Steve laughed and came in, closing the door behind him. “Eh, not quite, but if I’m being honest, as much as you know I like Scott, I wish I were here more often just for you instead of these unending cases. Speaking of which, you have a minute?”

You nodded, still typing on the keyboard while you listened to him. “Yeah, let me just get this in really quick, then I’m all yours.”

His fingertips tingled at that and a warmth rose from his chest to his throat. Oh how he wished that was true. He wished you were his, but more than that, he wished that he could be yours. All of him. But that wasn’t something he was ready to discuss yet. You knowing his whole self. Things were going too well right now for him to mess it up by dropping that bomb on you. It wasn’t the right timing.

As you slipped your gloves off and went to wash your hands, Steve locked the door behind him and took a step forward. You dried your hands and came over to meet him, looking up into his eyes. Oh how you wanted to swim in them; a pool of peace amongst the craziness outside. Despite how busy Steve always seemed, time with him made everything else go away.

“So what do you want to ask me?” You rocked forward on your toes, happy to focus on anything but work for a second. Right, that’s what it was, definitely not excitement to see him, even though your heart was racing and your legs felt restless.

“I wanted to know if you were busy this weekend. Maybe you and I could do something.” He looked between your eyes with a smile, but it was slowly falling in anticipation for your response.

You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Unfortunately, I am really busy this weekend. I’ve got some guests I’m hosting. But you’ve at least caught me right now. And I’ve got a bunch of free time next week. I can text you my schedule later.”

Steve nodded, leaning closer to you. “You’re right. I’m happy to at least have you for right now. Even if it’s just a few seconds.”

You couldn’t help the way your body was drawn in just like his. Or the way your hands traced up the front of his suit, which was honestly growing on you, the feeling of the expensive fabric surprisingly pleasant. Or how your fists gripped his lapels tightly and pulled him close, down to your level. Or the way your lips hovered closely to each other.

Steve whispered in the closing space. “Seeing you sometime next week for much longer would be great. You let me know as soon as you can.”

In your affirmation of his request, your lips brushed against his while his one hand snaked around your waist and the other came up to your cheek. Your fists grew tighter, needing him infinitely closer.

Normally, Steve would mind the potential wrinkles of his designer suit. He was wearing his favorite today, mostly because he knew he’d run into you. But if that damage was coming at your hands? Hell, that made it all better.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, which Steve took as his signal to do the same, his lips softly pressing against yours. The kiss was sweet and careful, tentative, yet venerative. It was short, and interrupted way too soon for your liking by a knock on the glass of the lab door, where you had luckily closed the blinds before.

The two of you pulled away with a breath of a laugh, looking down at your feet before looking up again with a smile at the other. Steve spoke first.

“I, um, I should probably go.”

You nodded, mouth still slightly agape as a remnant of the moment. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot of work to do. And you’ve got…”

“Meetings,” Steve finished for you. You forced a small smile.

“Yeah, always meetings.” It was true. Every time a moment was cut short, it was meetings, but this small talk was also so you could make it seem like you weren’t just kissing a civilian in your lab. Whoever was on the other side would at least hear voices, not lip smacking, although the kiss was nothing like that. Steve slowly backed the two of you towards the door to start heading out, but he still wanted to take advantage of you letting him hold you for as long as possible.

“But to double check, you’re really not free this Saturday?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m totally booked. But if I’m remembering correctly, I could probably swing something in the middle of next week. Like Tuesday? Maybe Wednesday? Is that too weird? I’ve got all evenings off, so any time that’s good for you is good for me.”

Steve smiled, or more like beamed at the thought of you offering up all your free time to him, but still spoke softly, breathily, a hand still on your back. “Yeah, that works. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” You didn’t even realize the way you bit your lip when you nodded, the slightly harsher sensation holding nothing to that of his soft lips. You were granted another soft smile under sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Goodbye, Sweetheart.”

Steve gave you a kiss on your hairline, reaching behind him and unlocking the door as quietly as possible so whoever was on the other side didn’t know it was locked in the the first place. Goosebumps took over your body at the whole thing. The pet name, the forehead kiss, the actual kiss. Luckily, they were under your lab coat, so he couldn’t see how much he truly affected you. Steve dropped his other hand from you, the warmth from them replaced by the air conditioned lab environment too quickly for you liking, before turning and opening the door. He excused himself to walk past the two detectives on the other side, Lang wearing a smirk and Walker, a scowl. Once he passed though the two-person wall, he turned back to wave goodbye to you with a wink and a salute.

You did your best to hide your smile at that, biting at the inside of your cheek and focusing on the detectives in front of you. If there was one thing Walker could do, it was kill a mood.

“Detectives. How can I help you?” You opened the lab door all the way for them to come in. Lang stood in the middle of the room with a file folder while Walker leaned up against one of the tables, something you’d told him not to do several times. Well, it’s his problem if a solvent eats though his ugly collared shirt, not yours.

Lang handed you the folder, still barely smiling at what he knew he’d interrupted.

“Got another case, Decky. Sorry to keep piling them on like this, but we just can’t figure out who’s doing all this. Or at least we don’t have enough proof yet.”

You grabbed the folder, flipping through the pages, before you dropped it over on the desk by your lab computer, the one surface in the room that was lean-safe, but Walker didn’t seem to care about that. You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll get back to work, then. I’ll let you know when I have the time to get though that.”

You gestured towards the case with one of your shoulders, but Walker slammed a fist on a table. You didn’t even care about his quick anger and poor intimidation attempt. He probably shouldn’t touch that surface with his bare hands, either, but you guessed he’d find his own punishment for it sooner or later.

“Is something wrong with that, Detective Walker?”

He walked over to you, his looming presence replacing the same space where Steve previously was, but this time it was much less enjoyable, so you took a large step back, holding out your hand. “Chill for a second there, buddy. Give me words.”

Walker huffed before looking at Lang, not even you. “Do you seriously trust her with this string of cases when she was just in here privately talking with one of our suspects? This case is important and I’m not gonna let her screw it up because she can’t keep her legs closed.”

That sent you over the edge. This entire time, Walker had been trying to undermine your abilities. He’d been doubting you, and blaming you for every one of his responsibilities that went wrong. And now, not even directly addressing you for the unfounded accusations.

“Walker, I’m sure there’s good re-,” Scott began to speak up before you cut him off.

“What I do in my lab is none of your business if I still serve you the data you ask for. There has never been a single occurrence where I’ve fraternized with a true suspect of an open case, and this is not me starting now. Plus, that is absolutely inappropriate for you to insinuate. Some of us take our jobs seriously and hold the law with regard. I kindly suggest you fuck off unless you want to know what the floor tastes like.”

Walker stood still, continuing to face Lang through your entire monologue, which may have been smart for him, because if he looked into your eyes, he would’ve turned into dust from the burning glare. Scott looked at you with a smile, content with the way you were able to shut Walker up and shut him down. He simply nodded in a thankful gesture, before guiding Walker out of the lab and giving you a thumbs up.

Before you knew it, Saturday was here and you were preparing to host your guests. You’d set out a veggie tray and everyone was arriving one-by-one until a single person was left to wait for. She was coming late, probably after dinner, anyway, so the rest of you got to it for a few hours, laughing and snacking in your apartment.

Steve was busy like there was no tomorrow, because if he didn’t keep working, there might not be. He was constantly relaying commands and shifting things around. The weekends were a busy time for him in general, so he was lucky when he’d gotten the time to spend with you before, but now it was seeming impossible. Luckily, he was sure he’d make it work to line up with your free time next week. He had to.

Steve was racing through city streets to another meet-up when his phone rang. It was Bee. She hadn’t called him too often at all. In fact, all he’d really been getting from her recently were short, sporadic texts. This had to be important, then, so he picked up right away.

“Hey, Bee, what’s going on? Long time no talk.” He was expecting to have a good conversation with a good friend. Someone he got along with, but she seemed frantic.

“Hey Steve, no time for formalities, I need your help.” Steve instantly locked in at that statement. Was she in danger? Why would Bee call him and not Bucky?

“Okay, shoot.”

“I just got off the phone with Bucky, but do you know where Decks is? I’ve been calling her all evening and she hasn’t picked up.”

He continued weaving, but started to slow down due to his focus on the conversation.

“Last I knew, she was having a weekend in. She’s hosting a bunch of guests at her place. Some sort of party I think. Why? What’s going on?”

Steve sent a short message to Sam to either take over or reschedule the meeting. If something was wrong or Decks was in danger, he needed to rush to her. Personally.

“Um, I kind of need her to clear her schedule for next Saturday to come back and win a game of pool.”

Steve wanted to stop in his tracks at that but kept going just in case.

“What? A game of pool? Why just for that? That’s so random. And even so, you don’t think you could win? Or me? I think we both could play pretty well.”

Bee laughed on the other end of the line. Sure, there were a lot of details she was leaving out, but there also seemed to be a lot he didn’t know for how much time he’d been spending with Decks lately. “Oh Steven, you sweet, naive, summer child. No, and I’ll tell you more about it in a second. But are you getting close?”

“Yeah. I’m in the car now. Just a few blocks away from her place. What does this all have to do with? Why does Decks have to play? Is she really that good?”

“Just move quickly. I need to know if she can do it because otherwise I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to find someone just as good. She’s actually the best. Bucky will fill you in on everything else, but the farm kind of hinges on it. And for your information, Decks is good at all games. I thought you knew that. She’s like, literally a pinochle world champion and a great card dealer and definitely would’ve beaten you at pool that night at the bar if she wasn’t trying to be nice. We used to always say she should’ve gotten a PhD in game theory.”

Steve was taken aback at the onslaught of information. “Wait a second, you bet the farm!? And Decks plays pinochle? That well!? Is that-“

He was sprinting up the steps to the apartment now, not wanting to take the time to wait for the elevator. He reached the door finally and knocked, faintly hearing ‘come in, Marge’ from the other side. Who on earth is Marge?

He cracked open the door to hear the loud sound of chattering, but not before he smiled at the vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen island. The ones he had sent the past week. His head turned toward the dining room table and all sound stopped as he was met with several pairs of eyes.

Steve gasped and dropped his phone from his ear in shock, seeing a familiar woman in a green visor at the table surrounded by old ladies, dealing cards. “Oh my gosh. Card games. Deck of cards. So that’s what it-“

He pulled the phone back up to his ear again. “Hold on, Bee. I’ll call you back later. I’ll take care of all of this...just. Let me tell her, okay? I’ll handle it because I don’t think I can get into the details without telling her everything. And I want it to come from me.”

He hung up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket before looking toward the table again with his grandest, albeit partially forced this time, smile.

You were focused on dealing cards to your game group, the old ladies surrounding you at the table like they did every so often when you had the time to meet up. A few rounds had come and gone, but your partner, Marge, still wasn’t here since she had a family event that she said she’d be coming from. That was fine, and now you’d be expecting her any minute.

You heard a knock on the door, which must’ve been her. Upon seeing the door open, though, you could tell it definitely wasn’t a little 70 year old lady with white hair in her signature yellow cardigan. It was a tall blond man about your age, decked out in expensive black material.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Your eyes were wide in surprise. He was on the phone, but promptly hung it up after taking a survey of the room.

The old ladies piped up. “Yeah, Steve.” “Hello, Steve.” “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

Steve sheepishly waved at the women sitting around the table across from you. You turned to your sides to see them all making flirty eyes, especially the lady sitting to your left who still hadn’t stopped waving. “Janet, hop off. He’s here for me.” You looked back at Steve. “Wait, you are here for me, right?”

Steve looked around before looking at you again with an awkward chuckle. He was still partially out of breath from how quickly he got here, but it was finally settling. “Hi ladies, um, yeah, it’ll just take a second, though. Can we talk in another room?” He pointed over his shoulder.

You nodded and took off your hat, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your bedroom, softly closing the door. You stood with your back against it, palms pressed flat as if when you moved, the ladies on the prowl would come flooding in to steal your man. Steve turned around back towards the door to look at you. “I’m sorry for just showing up.”

You straightened from your slouched position on the wall, placing a hand on his chest. He seemed a little stressed. “No worries, I just wasn’t expecting to see you today. Is everything alright?”

Steve didn’t want to ruin your day, so he held it in for now. “Um, yeah. Was just in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d take a chance and visit. I realized you’ve never seen it, so would you wanna come over to my place this week? Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday? We’ll play some pool? Bee’s asking if we can come back to the farm this weekend. Figured you and I could practice so we can win with our eyes closed.”

You laughed and smiled, leaning closer to him. “Sounds good. I’ve got this entire coming weekend off, too, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Probably a mercy schedule with the hours I’ve been pulling lately.”

Steve couldn’t help but lean in, matching you, as he nodded. “I bet. I can’t wait to spend more time with you this week, though.”

His arm was bracing him above you on the door. He knew he should’ve held back, not pushed it farther until he could lay everything on the table for you to see, but how could he resist when you were looking at him like that. Eyes wide and wanting, happy almost, even though he dropped in unannounced, something he knew you historically weren’t a fan of.

He was close enough to share a breath, so you leaned on your toes and were met by him leaning down. As the two of you kissed, Steve knew he should stop it in the back of his mind, but it all just felt so good, so he kept going, tongues dancing. He needed more, kissing down your neck and nudging his thigh between yours as you began to grind against him, gasping for air and moaning softly at the pleasurable sensations surrounding you. You wanted to keep going, too, until you remembered the several people just in the other room, waiting for you. “Steve, I, uh… as much as I really, really like this, I have some guests to host. Also, I thought I had told you this was a no-work-clothes-zone, but since you’ve got to go anyway, I’ll let it slide. Pick this up Tuesday?”

He pulled away and nodded, a somber softness in his eyes, taking in the last time you might look at him like this before he had to tell all. He loved the way your were poking at his suit jacket, playfully scrunching your nose, but still locking eyes with him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

You grabbed his hand and walked him to the door as all the ladies in your dining room whistled, and oohed and ahhed at him. As he stood in the hallway, the door just cracked enough for you to fit through and hopefully deter the wondering eyes of your card group, Steve left you with a kiss on the cheek.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did you catch it? Did you catch where the nickname came from? Yeah, I knew you would. Smarty pants.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[randomnameless]

@lumeha

"72h? Autant le faire maintenant, je vais oublier sinon" :

Les paiements en attente peuvent mettre jusqu’à 24h à apparaitre

Pour une fois que je veux faire mes démarches administratives en temps et en heure!

et donc en fait, c'est pas 72h mais 48h pour payer? C'est con!

[horsefriends]

Ajusco, Ciudad de México, México by Roger Ce

[krirebr]

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

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, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done. 

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort. 

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could. 

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something. 

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged. 

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam. 

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite. 

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs. 

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?” 

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.” 

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.” 

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.” 

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him. 

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet. 

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking. 

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown. 

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused. 

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back. 

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.” 

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess. 

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly. 

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.” 

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island. 

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back. 

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held. 

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. 

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room. 

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?” 

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing. 

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it. 

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.” 

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it. 

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here. 

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own. 

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. 

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore.  You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do. 

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room. 

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom. 

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided. 

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

Tag list is open

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[dbphantom]

watching loguetown with my best friend (2nd buddy im doing a full watch thru with lol) and this fucking image. anyway, he's convinced dragon is Literally God and i-

[moleshow]

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 2: Unknown Faces (rewritten)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3240 Summary: After your run in at the museum the two of you start having interesting dreams. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Submissive Steve which is a TW all to himself. Soulmate AU. A/N: I had some things I wanted to add, so enjoy my attempt #2. the next chapter will finally be new. Also, my first attempt at smut. Give me some grace. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Nothing was worse than a muggy day in Brooklyn. And today was the hottest day of that August. In a time before the modern marvel of climate control with little more then an electric fan to move the stagnant air around the room. It felt like they were drowning, and they were both attempting to push that simple fact to the back of their minds.

Steve sat in their bed with his sketch book in his lap, trying to capture the pigeons that sat on the roof of the building across the alley. If for nothing else then for distraction. Since the record Petal had put on wasn't doing the trick. Besides, he really needed to work on adding motion in his drawings so drawing birds in flight seemed like a good way to spend his time. 

Petal lay across the foot of the bed. Trying to read the novel Honey lent her, but kept sighing from the heat, such a dramatic little thing. Neither one of them was wearing much of anything, Petal in just a slip and Steve in an undershirt and boxers. It was too damn hot to wear anything else. And every time Petal would sigh and roll to try and get comfortable her slip would ride up. It was the most distracting thing in the damn world. 

“Hey Pet. Can you stop? You’re driving me up the wall babydoll.” He shook his head watching her wiggle again.

“It’s hot and the fan isn’t helping.” she whined with a pout. She didn’t have any makeup on. And her smooth delicate skin was glistening in the heat in a way that made Steve’s skin feel too tight. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the book in his lap. 

“I wish I could fix the weather for you, Pet. Believe me I’m not exactly having a gas over here.” 

A few moments pass in comfortable silence, with only Sterling Young and the scratch of his pencil to fill the silence. Petal trying to concentrate on her damn book but who could she when her favorite pass time was lounging on the other side of their bed. She glanced over at Steve. His brows knit together in concentration as he glanced back up at the birds.  He really was so beautiful, the light from the window bathed him in golden glow, highlighting the sharp angles and lithe musculature of his body. He reminded her of Puck, or some other form of eternally youthful fae creature. Built to tempt her with his wiry frame and beautiful eyes. And she couldn’t help it, her man was too pretty. She needed to touch him. 

Setting her book down she crawled up the bed. Her hand sliding up his legs. “Stevie, I am dreadfully bored…” 

Steve bit his lip and tried to focus on getting his shading right, “I’m sorry Pet.” he said offhandedly. Only to hear her sigh, then the gentle press of lips to his hip bone. And a soft hand pushing up his shirt. The pad of her fingers tracing along the lithe lines of his frame. “Petal…” he warned, with no real heat behind the words. "I need to get this done."

“Steven...” she mocks, her voice quiet and airy as her mouth followed her hands. Up, up. Peppering kisses over his rib cage, tongue flickering to the spaces between where she could feel his breath mounting. He sighed through his nose, eyes falling shut as she claimed his full attention. 

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the way her fingertip slid over his skin with gentle reverence. His hand slipped into her curls, grateful for a lack of pins and ribbons as he tugged her head back, looking down into her eyes glittering with mischief. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, the pink cushion of her mouth growing red under the bite and he groaned. Tugging her up to taste that lip himself. 

 'Your gonna be my ruin.”

Petal hummed sliding down along his jaw, lips finding his pulse and sucking on it. His heart picking up in response, like it was answering her call. “Oh hush… I don't think you'll be complaining in a moment."

Steve stared up at the ceiling as if it may give him an ounce of willpower. He found none, instead he found his hands sliding under the nylon of her slip. His breath shuttered as he felt all that soft perfect skin under his palms, his hand flatting agaist the curves of her body that he had long since memorized.

Most days he still couldn’t believe that she was his. That he was the man that had the privilege of holding her hand and keeping her warm at night. Let alone be the person that gets to sink into her body, his name tumbling from her lips when she finds the pleasure she so desperately deserves. Surely letting this goddess house the other half of his soul had been a comic mistake, but the red ink on her collarbone said otherwise. Marked her as this from birth just waiting to claim and be claimed. A piece of himself held apart by flesh and bone that would always seek out his companionship and love. Constantly rumbling back together like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly aligned and made to fit.

He ran the pad of his finger over the letters. S.G.R. Scrawled in a artistic script in blood red ink that mark her as his soulmate. As his birthright. And he thanked god with every breath that she had found him when he hadn't even been trying to look.

“Hmm, no definitely my ruin, my downfall…” he whispers, pulling her slip up over her hips, his hands kneading at the supple flesh he finds with every inch. “I never said I wouldn't accept it."

She smiles, humming in appreciation as he gives in despite the heat, despite being busy. He is always weak to her advances, pretty putty in her hands. And she let him pull the offending garment over her head. Revealing nothing underneath but shimmering skin.

“Good boy,” she whispers and pushes him down. Hands tugging at his shirt to get it off, sliding between his legs to pull off his boxers that are doing nothing to hide how much he loves her attention. “Always so eager, my sweet perfect man…” 

He preens under the praise, trying not to squirm when her breath ghosts over his cock. Steve knows he is none of those things save for eager. But being under her hands, her breath on his skin and sweet voice in his ears it’s the closest he has ever felt to perfection. He can deny her nothing. “Pet.. babydoll I..”

“Is it too warm cause I can-”

“No.” he bucks his hips. He didn't give a damn how warm it was, he needed her too much now. The temperature of the air was nothing compared to the heat in his veins and it flowed southward and away from his brain. “No please.”

He hears her giggle and he can’t help but flush at the way his cock twitches in response to the sound. She had him so fully, and he would give her anything, accept whatever she gave just to be with her like this again and again.

“Yeah I thought so.” She smirks and dips her head down to kiss at his tip, hand messaging over his balls making him groan. His thighs tense as he watches her with a heavy gaze.

Steve can hear the triumph in her voice as she kisses at the base of him, sending electricity down his thighs. She knows she has him so totally wrapped around her finger. All it took was a few littered kisses and he was willing to drop everything. It was always like this with them. From the first moment, he had been willing to walk through fire just to hear her say thank you…

He had never been good at holding still. Not even when told to, and with her mouth so close to him, his body already pent up in the summer air he can’t help the groan and roll of his hips as she plays with him. She grins, a rush of power rolling through her as he shows his first signs of desperation. He always makes her feel this way. Like she is offering him everything and it's all he can do not to thank her for the chance.

“You keep moving like that and I'm gonna have to hold you down. Maybe I'll just sit on you and make you ask for it politely.” she threatens, a flat warm tongue darting out to lick a hot stripe up the bottom of his length. He gasps, hands twisting into the sheets as she teases him. Face twisting in frustration as he wills his lips not to moan, his voice not to beg.

“Whatever you want, Pet.” 

“That's what I like to hear, always so good for me Stevie." she grabs his base giving him a slow stroke, precum pooling on her thumb as she drags it over his tip. Looking up at him through heavy lashes as she sucks the shining slick off her thumb with a hum. Steve’s stomach does a flip, as the air is pushed from his lungs. And he stifles a whimper with a bobbing throat. He knows she can tell how bad he wants this. Needs it now that it's been offered. And he will appease his gorgeous girl however she wants to get her to continue. To bring him the bliss he knows that sugar coated mouth is offering. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Steve sucks air through his teeth, one slender hand flying into the silken strains of her hair wrapping the locks around his fingers as words tumble forth. “I want that luscious mouth on my cock Petal, please. I need that soft heat on me baby. You always look so good down there. You make me feel so good, Pet…”

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Well since you asked so sweetly…” Her mouth sunk onto him and the sigh of relief he made had her humming as she relaxed her throat and pushed him deeper. 

“Oh f-fuck Pet I...” he gasped as his hips itched to move. But her soft persistent hands held him in place. Her tongue swirling around his tip as she pulled off, only to suck him back in with hollow cheeks. “Oh baby.. Yes yes please just like that.”  

Her hands wander. Pulling him closer to her as his back arches. Flat palms sliding over his hips and spine to hold him close to her. He really was so pretty. Graceful in a way she has never seen in a bigger man, and she adores him. Loves the way he can’t hold still, can't stay quiet, his deep voice telling her how much he loves this. Loves her, with every stroke of her mouth. Every hum of approval from her vibrates through him and takes him higher. 

She gets lost in it, holding her lover to her as she pulled him into her till her nose brushed the bronze curls at his base, “Pet… Petal I’m gonna, baby p-please. I’m gonna. I’m gonna, can I…”

You opened your eyes with a groan, pulling the covers over your head as you woke up before your alarm yet again. This was the third time this week. And just when your dream was getting good. 

You don’t know when you started dreaming about that man. The one with the soft sky blue eyes and crooked smile. You’ve never seen that face before, at least not to your knowledge but it haunted your dreams as of late.

You have read somewhere that the mind can’t make up faces on its own. That's why you always dream about people you know, or celebrities and public figures. Even the unknown faces you see in your dreams are people you’ve rode the train with or passed by at a supermarket. So you must have seen your mystery man at least once in passing but you swear you would have remembered eyes like that. A voice that is deep and smooth…

With a groan in frustration your thighs tingle again. The pressure in your gut surmounting in an uncomfortable feeling you were going to need to fix before going to work. With a sigh you roll over and rifle through your bedside table. Finding your favorite toy and turning it on before closing your eyes and letting yourself finish that little scene.

Steve almost threw his alarm across the god damn room. A frustrated snarl ripping out of his chest. Painfully hard with an ache in his bones that bordered on pain he pressed his palms to his eyes. Hot wet tears leaked out beneath his hands and into his hairline as he forced out a shaky breath. He couldn't keep living like this, couldn’t function knowing she was in this fucking city and not there beside him. Warming his bed and breathing his air. Her sweet voice asking if he was OK, holding him like he knew she would if only she was here…

In the privacy of the darkness he let a sob slip. Wrecking through his chest with a violent shake. He needed her back. His body ached to hold his girl, his soul rebelled at the absence of her. His heart had felt like it was beating against the confines of his body every second since he had left the museum yesterday. Like it could somehow by sheer force make him go and find her. As if he was staying away on purpose. Instead of trying to be smart and staying away and not acting like a total obsessed creep.

Which he would be. If he had followed his instincts and followed her home. Found her address. Found her work. Hit his knees and begged the universe to fix whatever had broken them.

He could never. And knowing she was so close yet so, so far away made him want to burn down everything in his path till he figured out what had caused this and how to fix it. How did she not remember the man who had worshiped the ground she walked on. The man who would move the heavens for her if only he was able. He loved her. He still loves her and the way he cried like a child was only a testimony to that.

He pushed open his half of their bond. The highway that connected him to Petal, trying yet again to let her hear him. I miss you, Please, I know you are there. Baby, I can't do this alone. He launched the plea down the empty connection like it may do some good. Might bring her back to him but he knew it was in vain. There was nothing on the other end. Or at least nothing that was open to him anyway. Like the door was locked and barred just to leave him isolated on the other side. 

If he could he would slam his hands against that parabolic door, pound against it until his hands bled. Make her feel him. Call out to her, beg her to find him. Plead and grovel. But that was not an option at the moment, and even if it was it would scare her. And that is the one thing Steve, even in his desperation, couldn’t bring himself to do. Scare his girl? He’d rather die.

"Listen, I've heard a lot of crazy things in this job. But, the girl I saw at a glance in the Smithsonian is my long lost soulmate from 1945 is a new one." Nat quipped. Giving him a look like he might actually be going crazy. Which he was, technically. He felt down right insane but he knew he was right. "Are you getting dementia gramps."

"Nat." His voice was flat, broking no argument. "I know it sounds ridiculous but I know Petal. It was her. Just help me out here. Look her up. I know you can."

Nat's job was to know things. Shoot people and know things, it was like half her job description. And Steve was not taking no for an answer. If anyone could help him find her again. Figure out what the hell was going on it was Romanoff.

"What makes you think I can find her. Hmm? No one has been able to find her for decades. And believe me people have looked…"

"I know people have looked!" He all but snapped at her. His hands slamming on the desktop. He had too much energy in him. Too much anxiety buzzing through his body like live wire. "I have looked. Exhausted every asset at my disposal. But she was there Natasha. She was in that museum and I need to know how."

Nat stared to Steve's steely eyes. His gaze as intense, if not more so than she had seen him on any mission. He was practically vibrating with tension as he leaned over her. "This really means that much to you."

"Wouldn't it to you."

Nat sighed. She wouldn't know. She didn't have a soul mark. Part of the 40% of the population that didn't have a soulmate. Whole souls, they were called in passing. People who were complete on their own. Some people considered it a blessing, others a curse. But it had been one of the requirements to be in the red room. No soulmates meant no ties. No one you could hold more important then mission or country. And looking at Roger's right now she could understand why.

He looked as if he was ready to go on a warpath. Wage a siege just to get this girls name, her address, Hell, her shoe size. Anything that proved she was real. That could lead him back to her.

She sighed and turned to her console, pulling up surveillance footage from the museum. "When were you there?"

"Last Thursday, 1100 hours." He rattled off, as if it was the easiest information in the world. Nat raised a brow but filed through the camera and pulled up the footage of the letter display. There was Steve, looking pissed as all get out. Nat's eyes scanned the crowd. Landing on the three girls to Steve's left.

"The redhead or the tall one?" She asked.

"Neither. Her. In the middle." Steve pointed at you. Your back turned to the camera.

Nat scrolled ahead until she could get a somewhat clear image of the girls face. "Oh she's cute."

Steve huffed. They weren't here to check out his wife. "Yes she is, stay focused.

"Touchy." Nat put the imagine in sheild's data base and cross referenced it with faces they had flagged. Nothing. So she tried a more general search. A ping this time. Leaning forward she scanned the info. Her brows furrowing.

"This can't be right."

Steve head snapped up. Rounding the desk to read over her shoulder. There was your name, your maiden name and birth date though the year was wrong, but your SSN was the same. He started to scan your info and instantly say what she was refusing too. "How has shield not flagged this…"

None of your info added up. At first glance you would think you were a petty criminal or a scammer. Or an undercover agent with a shitty identity forger. Because your social was clearly from the 1920s, Ans you had no school records, no criminal history passed a speeding ticket in March of 2011. But you had an up to date license. And a small apartment in the east end and a job at the VA… how did you even get hired with no birth certificate?

"Can you print this off for me?" Nat gave him a look that said she thought that was a bad idea. But did it anyway.

"What are you planning Cap?"

Steve took out the page as soon as it was out of the machine. Still hot in his hand. "Gonna go get my girl."

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli You don't have to read obviously, just wanna make sure you're tagged in the up to date versions. <3

[gillesvalery]

Jardin Hélène Cadou à Orléans ( Artiste aux mille facettes, Roger Toulouse, par ce travail, rend un hommage vibrant à son ami poète René Guy Cadou)

[horsefriends]

Ajusco, Ciudad de México, México by Roger Ce

[krirebr]

I Can't Sleep, Cause My Bed's On Fire

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Dark!Female Reader x Dark!Steve Rogers, established Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, past Ransom Drysdale x Steve Rogers

Word Count: ~3.3k

Summary: In Germany, you and Ransom run into someone from his past. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

Warnings: Horror elements, feeding off people, references to mind control, explicit language, group sex (mmf), light degradation, a little past (and present) heartache, a lot of smut- All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Ahahahaha! Oh god, what have I done????

A HUGE thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who let me flail all over her about this idea and read so, so much of it and talked me through the panic attack I always have when it's time to write smut.

Please come screech with me about this Steve. I'm so obsessed with him.

Ransom led you through the crowd by your hand. You lagged behind him as you tried to take in everything around you. People were dancing in cages, their eyes glossed over. There were humans laid out on tables as vampires fed on them. You saw no fewer than five couples fucking. This place was a wonderland. 

While you were still in France, Ransom had heard rumors of a vampires-only club in Germany, so now, after chasing down leads, you were in Berlin. You hadn’t known what to expect from Valkyrie, but this was more than you could have dreamed. No one was hiding here, pretending to be human, pretending to be weak. Here things were in their natural order. Here, even after only a few minutes, you really felt at the top of the food chain. Your fangs dropped in excitement and you let them stay. You were with your people now.

Ransom took you to the bar, pulling you in front of him and resting his chin on your shoulder. “What do you have on tap?” he yelled above the din to one of the bartenders. They placed a narrow menu in front of you, then moved on to help someone else. You looked at the selection of blood, all different types, ages, and diets. Your eyes wandered down to the bottom of the menu. “Hey,” you said over your shoulder to Ransom, “what do you think the Captain’s Special is?”

He went completely still. “What’d you say?” he asked, deadly serious. Without waiting for an answer he sniffed deeply. “Oh shit. We have to get out of here. Right fucking now,” he said as he started pulling you away.

You stood your ground. “What? Ran, no! I wanna st–”

A chuckle over his shoulder interrupted you. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh, Ransom?” 

He turned around very slowly to face an impossibly broad man, an inch or two taller than him with golden blonde hair and boy next door good looks. This new man looked about ten years younger than Ransom, but you knew better than to take that at face value. He reeked of power and experience.

“Steve,” Ransom said, cooly. “I thought you were still in Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Not for a few decades. It was time for a change.” He gave Ransom an obvious once-over. “You look good.”

Ransom scowled. “Where’s Bucky?”

Steve laughed and shrugged. “No idea. You know how Buck is.”

“I don’t actually.” Ransom said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard his voice be so cold. “I only met him at the end there.”

The grin didn’t leave Steve’s face. “Come on, you aren’t still upset about all that? You knew the score going in, Pup.” 

“There were lots of things I didn’t know going in, Steve.”

Steve sighed. “You always were so stubborn,” he said, reaching a hand out to stroke Ransom’s cheek, and Ransom, right in front of your eyes, fucking leaned into it.

Without realizing it, a growl built up in your throat. Steve’s eyes cut to you for the first time. “Oh! And who’s this pretty little thing?”

At that, Ransom seemed to come back to himself. “None of your fucking business.”

Steve wasn’t deterred. His eyes bore into you. You’d never been looked at like that before. It was like he was looking inside you. You felt like he could see everything you’d ever done, everything you’d ever thought. It made you want to cower, but it also pulled you to him.

“Oh,” he said with a slight moan, “she is brand new. What’d you bring me, puppy?”

“I didn’t bring you anything.” Ransom growled. “She’s mine.”

Steve looked back at Ransom at that. “Yours? As in…”

“Yes.”

He looked at you critically. “Very interesting.” He held out a hand to you. “Steve Rogers. Welcome to my club.”

You took it and said your name. He brought your hand up to his lips and laid a soft kiss on your knuckles, then, as he released it, gave you a smile that you could only describe as predatory. “An absolute pleasure,” he said. He took a breath as if to say more when he was interrupted by someone in a club uniform whispering in his ear. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Ransom. “I have to take care of this. But you should come back tomorrow night. I have a private room in the back. We’ll be able to catch up.” He glanced at you and licked his lips, then grabbed Ransom by the back of the neck and leaned in to give him one of the filthiest kisses you’d ever seen. Open-mouthed and wet. You could tell, even from the outside, how in control of it he was. It both made your knees weak and your blood boil. You were furious at Ransom for submitting to it. When he was done, he rested his forehead against Ransom’s and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Ran. Come back tomorrow.” When Steve pulled away, he winked at you. Then, over your head to the bartenders behind you, “Whatever they want is on me,” before disappearing back into the crowd.

Ransom grabbed your hand and tugged. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growled. 

Once you were on the street outside, you pulled Ransom to a halt. “Who the fuck was that?” you shouted.

“That,” Ransom snarled, “was the fucking Captain!” At your blank look, he let out a heavy sigh. “Christ, you’re still so new. He’s a big fucking deal in our circles, ok? He’s a name. He’s known.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He’s a famous vampire?”

“He’s a powerful vampire!”

“Well, I could obviously see that! It radiates off of him! What I’m asking is, who is he to you?”

Ransom backed himself up against the nearest building and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and sighed again. “He’s the one who turned me.”

“What?” was all you were able to say. You’d known, of course you’d known, that Ransom hadn’t always been a vampire, that he’d been turned at some point. But he’d never said a word about the circumstances and you honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Him being a vampire was just so natural to you, you couldn’t imagine him any other way.

And then you remembered how you'd felt when you'd first woken up when you'd opened your eyes and seen Ransom standing above you – everything you'd felt about him, the man who'd given you this incredible gift. The idea of Ransom feeling that way about someone else – about Steve – filled you with a fire so intense you wanted to spread it through this entire city, burn down absolutely fucking everything. “How long were you together?” You asked and you could feel how your voice shook.

“Less than a decade,” he said like he was trying to dismiss the whole thing. 

You scoffed. “You say that like it isn't a long time!”

“It isn't! Not to him, not to someone that old. He fought in the Revolutionary War, ok? I was a one-night stand to him.”

“But he wasn’t that to you,” you hissed.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then, finally, “No. He wasn’t.”

You’d never felt like this before, not even before, when you’d found out everything Andy had been up to. You’d never felt this all-consuming fire, this hate and despair and lust all swirling together. You wanted to put your fist through the brick wall next to you. You wanted to put Ransom through it. You wanted to fuck him right there on the street. It was only the fact that you equally wanted to do all three things at once that kept you from doing any of them.

Like he always could, Ransom read everything on your face, in your body. “I hate him, ok?” he said, reaching out and softly laying his palm against your cheek. “I hate him so much.” He was placating you but you still leaned into it. 

“You want him,” you whined. It was obvious in the way he’d melted into Steve’s touch, Steve’s kiss.

“I do,” Ransom nodded and you growled. He stroked his thumb along your cheekbone to soothe you. “I’ll always want him, just like you’ll always want me and I’ll always want you. There’s something about that bond – when you turn someone. I don’t know, but no matter how much I hate him, I’ll always want him.”

“And he’ll always want you,” you snarled.

Ransom gave you a rueful smile. “That, I’m not so sure. He’s a couple hundred years old and I don’t think even he knows how many progeny he has. Plus he’s been in love with the same man since he was human. When Bucky came back, I was shown the door.”

You were finally starting to let go of your anger. You moved fully into Ransom’s space, placing one hand on his chest. “Fuck him, then,” you said. “Let’s go back in there, drink him out of house and home and then get the fuck out of Germany.”

Ransom rested his forehead against yours, in a mirror of what Steve had done to him, and sighed. “We can’t. We have to come back tomorrow night.”

“We don’t.”

“We do. He’s fixated on you now.”

You took a step back at that and looked at him, confused. “He barely looked at me!”

“Trust me, if we leave now, it’ll become an obsession, and he’ll come after us just to show us that he can. We don’t want that.”

For the first time that night, you felt a frisson of fear. “Does he want to hurt me?”

Ransom snorted and you had the shortest moment to be offended before he said, “He wants to fuck you. Both of us, probably.”

“What?” you asked, surprised. “What would be the point of that for him?”

He snorted again, “Besides orgasms?” he said and then sobered. “It’s a power play. You have to know that every single thing he does is a power play. Ok? You must remember that when we see him again.” 

“Ok,” you nodded, a little frightened by his seriousness. But only for a moment, because quickly your thoughts were overtaken by a broad chest, thick thighs, and a perfect ass. 

You looked up to see Ransom smirking at you. “Yeah,” he said, “whatever you’re imagining, it’s going to be so much better. It’s the best thing about him.” 

You returned to the club the next night. Ransom had insisted on dressing you both – you in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress that barely covered your ass and left your neck and chest exposed, him in a burgundy silk button-down, strategically unbuttoned, and tight black pants that made his ass pop. You were sure that if you could have looked at yourselves together in a mirror, it would have been a sight to behold.

Someone was called to the door when you got there and you were led directly to Steve’s private rooms in the back. You entered into a sort of sitting room, plush seating scattered throughout, arranged over lush rugs and under low lighting. Everything was dark wood and deep reds and blues. It communicated comfort, luxury, and, more than anything else, power.

Steve was already there, sitting in a large, wing-backed leather armchair. He looked, as ever, clean-cut, professional, and in charge. At his feet kneeled a dark-haired young woman, clad only in an expensive-looking slip made of silk and lace. You could smell the humanity on her. It took everything in you to not let your fangs drop right there. Steve slowly, gently, pet her head, like she were his dog. He gave a satisfied smile when he looked up at you both. “Good boy,” he said to Ransom. “I knew you’d come.”

Ransom huffed and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He layed a possessive arm across your stomach. “Of course. Who would dare ignore a summons from The Captain?” he said dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes but kept his smile. “Nothing as dramatic as all that. Am I not allowed to want to catch up with an old friend and his new lover?” Ransom scoffed but didn’t say anything, so Steve continued, gesturing to the woman at his feet. “I took the liberty of having something brought up from my private reserves for us to share. I remembered how you prefer the earthy ones, Ran. This one’s full-bodied and oaky, with the subtlest hint of vanilla. You’ll like it, I’m sure.” He stopped petting her, instead taking her hair in a harsh grip and moving her head to expose her neck.

At that, you couldn’t control yourself anymore, your fangs dropped with a hiss and you lunged forward. Ransom caught you, both arms around your middle and you let out a desperate whine. “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” he said. “My little rabbit still hasn’t quite mastered self-control and I would hate for there to be an accident with one of your favorites.”

Steve scoffed. “Of course, she doesn’t have any control with you being the one to teach her.” 

You felt Ransom stiffen behind you, and you were able to pull yourself together enough to stop fighting to get loose. You sank back into him, partly to comfort and partly to apologize. You’d embarrassed him. You tipped your head back to try to whisper an apology, maybe, but Ransom just subtly shook his head and ran a comforting hand down your side.

“Well,” Steve said, patting the woman on the arm and then snapping at the door behind him, “can’t be helped, I guess. Pity.” He pulled out his phone and typed a message as she got up and left the room. “They’ll bring us something from the bar.”

“Excellent,” Ransom said, still running his hand up and down your side. “We haven’t eaten anything yet tonight.”

“Well,” Steve said with a smirk as there was a knock on the door and someone in the club’s uniform came in with a tray of drinks, “I promise you’ll both be very satisfied.” He passed a tumbler to each of you. “What should we cheers to?” he asked. Then his eyes narrowed in on you. “To new friendships,” he said, with a quirk of his lips.

You raised your glass, then took a sip and moaned. It was delicious, even though you missed the little cries and whimpers that usually accompanied a feeding. 

You were so absorbed in your glass that you were surprised by Steve’s fingers circling your wrist. “You like it?” he asked, his voice low and husky, standing much closer to you than you’d realized. This close, he was completely intoxicating. His scent, the coldness of his touch, his power.

“I do,” you breathed, “it’s delicious.” Ransom’s arm wrapped across your body again, pulling you tight into him. 

Steve ignored the display from Ransom, softly running his thumb over what had been your pulse point when you were human. “I’m glad,” he said. “I’m here to please.”  He began to pull you away by your wrist and Ransom let out a short but obvious growl. Steve took his attention off you but left his hand and tsked. “You always were so possessive. I’d hoped you’d have grown out of that by now, but you’re still so young, aren’t you, pup?”

Ransom scowled. “I always hated it when you called me that.”

“No,” Steve said. He leaned forward and placed a soft but leading kiss on Ransom’s lips, squishing you between the two men. Your whole body was thrumming with need now. Steve pulled away, and Ransom moved his head to chase after him. “You loved it,” Steve whispered.

He grabbed your free wrist with his other hand and pulled you with him as he walked over to the nearest couch, perching on the arm. “Come here, little one. Let’s talk, just you and me.” He pulled you so you straddled his knee, and you could tell that you were soaking his pants leg through the tiny excuse for underwear you were wearing. “Oh, you are a needy thing, aren’t you? Maybe you should stay with me, hmm? I’m much more experienced and have so much more to teach you.”

You could feel Ransom’s hackles rising, even from a few feet away. You turned your head to look at him, still standing by the door, and his eyes were locked on you, just you. You bit your lip to hold back the moan at how he watched. You turned back to Steve and smiled seductively as you said, “And what would happen to me when Bucky comes back?”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. His eyes cut to Ransom as he said, “Jealous little thing!” He jerked his knee up, rubbing hard on your cunt and you gasped. “Yes, I’m sure he’s told you all about how I spurned him. Took advantage of his naivety. As if he ever had any. Is that what he told you? Am I the big bad?” You couldn’t answer him, could barely think, as his knee continued to grind against you. “Oh, little one, you are drenched. How does he handle you by himself? Ransom,” he called over your shoulder. “Come help your desperate thing.”

In an instant, you felt Ransom’s hands on your hips, and you couldn’t help the cry that tumbled out of you. He had your dress off before you could even register what he was doing. Steve groaned at the sight of the black lace that adorned your body. “You wrapped her up exactly how I like. Such a good puppy.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You tore through Steve’s shirt, sending buttons flying across the room. He lunged forward, kissing you, finally, demanding and aggressive, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, making you keep up with him. You felt Ransom’s own mouth on your neck, his hands on your breasts. Your hands fumbled their way down Steve’s abs and into his pants, freeing his cock—long, fat, and so, so hard for you. One of them, you weren’t sure which, tore away your underwear, the sting of the elastic snapping pushing you ever closer to the edge. In your periphery, you vaguely noticed Steve’s arm snaking around you and heard Ransom gasp. You wrapped a firm hand around Steve’s cock and stroked furiously, as Ransom’s fingers (you’d always know Ransom’s fingers) slid between your folds, his thumb quickly finding your clit while two fingers slipped inside you. You keened as he touched you exactly where he knew you needed it and sent you hurtling over the cliff of your orgasm. Your whole body shook with it, only managing to stay upright thanks to being sandwiched between these two men. It felt endless, but as the aftershocks ran their course, and you slowly came back down to earth, you registered Steve’s breaths growing more erratic and Ransom’s groans picking up behind you. You tightened your grip on Steve and increased the pace of your strokes to an inhuman speed until he bucked uncontrollably with a guttural moan and painted his spend all over your front. Seconds later, you felt Ransom’s own release on the small of your back. They both continued to jerk against you, gradually slowing down until the three of you were just one tangle of limbs, collectively trying to catch your breaths. You rested your head against Steve’s shoulder as Ransom collapsed against your back.

Steve looked over you both to the clock on the wall. “Well,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction, “we have about six hours til sunrise, and there’s a bed in the next room. Think we’ll be able to find a way to fill the time?”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @she-wolf09231982

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 3: Helping Hands

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3385 Summary: Steve asks Sam if he can volunteer at his work. Getting his shoe in the door with someone special. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, PTSD, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Soulmate AU. A/N: Fun Fact, readers last name is Darnell in this because it mean "unknown or secret" This went through a couple different variasons so if tense is weird I'm sorry. English IS my first language. I just suck at it. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

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The guilt he felt asking Sam to help him was second only to his driving need to see you. He might have given the parameters of what he was doing more thought if it didn't seem like a necessary evil. To lie to one of his only friends. To manipulate him into getting Steve into your personal space. It was verging on vile and he knew it. His conscious was eating him alive, but he didn't know what else to do.

"I'm honestly surprised you even have time to volunteer man. Doesn't all that SHIELD shit keep you pretty busy?" Sam had been talking but Steve wasn't listening. Preoccupied with the sweat forming on his palms and the shake in his fingers. Every step they took brought him closer to you. Closer to either setting things right or ruining his life.

"Ah, yeah well. Everybody needs a sense of community right? I'm just trying to find mine. You try making friends with a bunch of spies and secret agents. Not exactly confidant material." He kept his tone light, his usual polite air covering his intentions. In all truth he was only half lying. He really wouldn't mind spending time with other combat vets. Though his faith in the VA as an institution was weak at best. "Besides you're the one that encouraged me to come."

Sam scoffed, giving his friend the side eye. "I suggested group sessions. Not volunteering in the housing division."

But she is in the housing division. It's an easy in. Steve only shrugged, "I find peace in helping others."

They made their way across the campus. Being greeted by the occasional coworker, or passersby. Voices murmuring as they trailed off to the building on the far end of the green. It was sinking in that there was a high likelihood he couldn't do this unrecognized. There was really no avoiding that, but… How would his sweet girl react to meeting someone the way he was now.

You had always been fiery and confident in their day, something that drew his pensive personality to you like a month to a flame. But had time changed that.. What if being near someone who had been genetically modified scared you or made you uncomfortable. He couldn't handle a rejection before this even began. He couldn’t begin to know what he would say or how he should act. Should he charm you, or should he stand off and let her come to him? Did he even have the restraint?

How had he done it the first time? That was the problem wasn't it. Because the first time around you had picked him. Sure he was bigger now, conventionally more attractive but he was still the same introverted knot-head he had always been. You had been the one to approach him then, you were the one asking questions and making his ears burn when you called him handsome. He had no clue how you found it charming then, he highly doubted it would be charming now. He needed to be smooth, he needed to be charming and friendly and not like the nervous desperate fool he felt like right now.

They made it to the large red brick building on the far side of campus and Steve was starting to feel exposed. Like this was a bad idea. He found himself fidgeting, smoothing back his hair and adjusting his jacket. Petal had always like him in brown leather. Hopefully that was still true now..

"Are you good? You got somewhere to be?"

Sam's retort pulled him from his grooming. "Yeah maybe. Who knows. I've always had a thing for a cute nurse."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure. Says the man that has turned down every opportunity I have shot your way for months now."

"Maybe you just don't know my type." Sam just rolled his eyes as he help open the door. They went about their tour. Meeting the orderly and getting the weekly schedule and where they could use help with activities and outings. Steve payed the closest attention to Monday-Thursday when he knew you were working. He did his best to remain respectful and give the orderly his full attention as he spoke up his eyes were constantly roaming looking for that distinctive head of hair…

As they walked Sam held most of the conversation to make up for Steve's apparent daze. They walked into a small hallway with a few doors, each leading to different departments. Nursing, mental health, physical therapy. They passed a door that led to a small garden where veterans sat, chatting on benches, and another one that looked like a rec room. A massive almost gymnasium like structure with open sky lights and an open floor. Clearly, most of the building funding had gone toward places like this.

Steve gave a low whistle hand in his pockets as he looked around, his body spinning slowly as his gaze wondered. "They didn't look like this when I was serving…" He stopped in his tracks. There you were. Off at one of the tables talking to an elderly man in a wheelchair. Your hair pushed back with a headband.

The world melted away. Not only was it you, and you were gorgeous as ever, but you looked so much happier than he left you in the 40's. You were healthier, more relaxed and calm in conversation with the man. You were happy here; without him. His heart squeezed painfully, but it was OK. You were happy.

He had the sudden urge to leave, to tell Sam to go and that he would come back another day… and then he heard you laugh. A real laugh for the first time in seventy years. He whipped back around, his eyes wide and locked onto you. All other thoughts faded, all he could see was you.

Steve was frozen, it was like his very being had short circuited. Finally your eyes caught his and his heart stopped. It was like a shock of electricity through his body. In that moment it was as if the war never happened, as if you had never lost each other at all. But just like that your gaze passed over him and you returned to the man, as if you hadn’t even seen him. Maybe you didn’t. But Steve knew he couldn’t move, was completely frozen watching you.

Sam gave him a nudge, “You OK brother?”

But Steve didn’t answer. His soul hurt so much he felt unable.

You could feel eyes on you, they were impossible to ignore. Glancing over to the doors you could see Sam Wilson and your head nurse talking to another tall man that seemed roughly familiar but you couldn't really place, maybe he was a family member or a vet here? Or a vet himself just here to provide company which was encouraged in the therapy sessions…

Either way it didn’t seem like the blonde was listening. Because he was staring out into the room with a look that could only be deceived as heartbreaking. Somewhere between hope and devastation.

His gaze locked on yours and you gave an encouraging smile. Trying to be warm as the man's face drained of color. Was he looking for someone? had he just been given bad news? You rose to her feet deciding to check on him when Lt. Nelson tapped your hip.

Leaning down you listened to what he had to say. "I served with him. That's Captain Steven Rogers, I would know him anywhere. I haven't seen him since Italy…"

“Do you think so?” You knew the name. Hell, everyone knew the name between the Smithsonian exhibit and the coverage in the news and tabloids it was a household name. Steve Rogers, Captain America, The world mightiest hero. It wasn't the craziest thing you had heard from a resident today. But, it wouldn't be the first time the Lieutenant had mistaken a visitor for someone from his glory days, and while you would never correct him. You tried not to encourage it either.

Superhero’s don’t come here, was you're first thought, but you didn't have the heart to say that, instead you told him. “Well why don’t I go say hello, and maybe you're right.” Rubbing Mr. Nelson’s shoulder warmly before watching over to Sam and the stranger.

You came closer and closer until Steve could see you clearly. All the details he had forgotten were there, the way your nose scrunched when you smiled and the way your eyes would sparkle with happiness or mischief. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg her to remember him.

But then you were in front of them, you eyes on Sam, a soft smile and he felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under him again. “Sam! Long time no see, whose you're friend?"

Sam slung an arm around Petal, giving you a warm hug. Which you returned with a gusto that Steve knew all too well. Those hugs were warm, and snug, and you always lingered just long enough to make you feel important and safe..

"This is my friend Steve. He was hoping to come hang out with you and the old dogs a few times a month, ain't that right Cap?"

Steve shoved down the green monster rising in his gut at the hug and plastered a lopsided smile on his face. "That's right." he stated dumbly, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

"Oh, well that's nice of you. Were you in the service sir?" Their it was again. Sir. Not Steve or Stevie, but sir. The title you give to a respected stranger. Felt like fish hook in the gut. You were trying to be polite but all it did was make him want to evacuate his stomach on the checkered tiles.

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat with a smile. "Yes, a captain in the army."

”Nice to meet you Captain,” you held out your hand to shake Steve’s. He took your hand, savoring your grip and your soft skin on his hand. He felt that soft wave of recognition buzz over his skin. One soulmate touching another, it wasn't the electric rapture that overcame you the first time you touched you're other half. It was that old familiar whirring under the skin that came with every contact with his girl. His eyes shot up to see if you recognized the feeling. Nothing

“The pleasure’s…” He had meant to to come off suave but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try again, “The pleasure’s all mine.” He felt like an idiot and his chest felt like might swing open and the contents would fall out, but he knew he had to be strong.

When you responded with a welcome smile, he felt maybe everything might be alright. He tried not to notice how perfectly your hand fit in his, though his brain instantly comparing the sizes and the way his palm dwarfed hers. Your handshake was warm, and he could have held you forever, but you took your hand back far too soon.

“Come on,” you said, smiling and lighting up the room. “I’ll show you around and we can discuss volunteering a little.”

Steve and Sam followed you, looking around as you introduced them to a few of the veterans that were sitting and chatting around. You seemed to know them all, giving nicknames to each one with a loving, familiar smile. Steve wasn't surprised by how easily you could make anyone feel like they were a friend. You had always been that way, Like when your eye's landed on someone you were actually seeing you and not just a face. you smile lit the room and he was so enchanted he let his guard down. Talking to vets and being recognized, if you were shocked you didn't show it. You just let him become part of the goings on.

You left the Captain to talk to Mr. Nelson. Smiling to you're self when they pulled out the checkers board and you made you're way back to Sam.

"So… THAT is Captain America?"

Sam laughed, watching the interaction between the Captain and the old vet.

“He’s a good guy, a little outdated and hard to get to know… but don’t let him intimidate you, he’s a marshmallow on the inside and he can be…charming… on occasion.”

"He seems.. melancholy?" you search for the word. Sad didn't seem right but there was this vague sense of otherness to Steve that almost comes off him in waves.

"Wouldn't you be? The man lost everything he's ever known. Was woken up only to be thrown into another fight… He probably needs therapy. But I think you would be hard pressed to get a man like him in a session. So, community is gonna have to do for now."

You consider that for a moment as Steve's gaze meets yours one more time. He does seem a like happier now that he is here. But you still see that flicker of something indescribable whenever he is left to his own thoughts. You may not know combat but you knows that feeling. That lost drifting feeling that settles on the bones after soldiers come home. You had seen it in the eyes of a least a hundred men.

You wished he would let Sam actually help him.

Steve did his best to focus on the game with the Lt. He really did. But when his petal was standing right there in your cute pink scrubs who could blame a man for being distracted.

"She is a cutie, let me tell you what." Nelson murmured with a smile as he took another of Steve's pieces.

Nelson gave him the look of a man that had a keen nose for bullshit. "Nurse Darnell. You've only been looking at her like she is made of sugar for the last 20 minutes."

Steve chuckled, trying to play it off. "She is very attractive yes."

"Then why are you wasting time talking to an old fart like me."

"I don't know if your aware of this pal but I am just as much of an old codger as you are."

Nelson shakes his head, his deep baritone laugh rumbling in that old smokers chest. "Naw, you may have been born the same year as me son, but you're still a young man inside. I know you feel out of place. But we all did when we came home."

Steve knew what he was saying was right, and that Nelson was trying to give him an out to go and ask his petal out. But Steve was still scared to death. "I don't know if I am ready for all that."

"You'll never know if you don't try son."

When Steve pushed up from his chair Sam and petal where no where to be found. He searched the room and came up empty. "You looking for me?"

Her warm voice trickled down his spine and made him smile. "Yes, I was. Do you have coffee in this place."

"Do we have coffee?" You sounded almost indignant. "You are aware this is a VA correct. And that we service exclusively military personnel and veterans… Yes we have coffee. Stiff enough to float a brick on."

Steve smiled at that, the grin lighting up his face. We are talking, she's talking to me… "Just how I like it."

You lead him off to the little coffee bar in the corner of the rec room, the one that is attached to the kitchen where all the meals are served, "Here we are." You pump a mug full out of a carafe and hands it over, "might be a little cold. Hopefully not."

"I'm sure it is just fine." He assures and takes a sip, it was in fact cold be he could not give less of a shit as long as you keeps talking to him. "It's perfect."

"Mhhm…" you looked like you didn't believe that for a moment but didn't say anything. "So how are you finding modern living, Captain Rogers?"

"Steve, please." He did his best to keep the pleading from his voice but if you called him Sir again he was gonna throw something. "And I'm… I'm finding it. It's different from home but most places are. And its better then the trenches so I guess I'm fine."

"I feel like there is a major difference between 1940's Brooklyn and the trenches Mr- uh Steve." You seemed to catch yourself. It was just one more reminder of how he had lost everything and even now with you right in front of him he was lost.

"Well yeah, but I have to find the good where I can. The food is good, the cars are fast, information at your fingertips anywhere and everywhere. The future isn't so bad…" He was rambling. And he knew it. But he didn’t know how to stop the words. You, his sweet girl, were right in front of him. And he could touch you. He could pull you into his into him, hold you close and sweep you off you're feet like he should have been able to 70 years ago if he hadn't been a fool. Taste your pretty lips again. Hear you say “I love you” with that laugh at the end, like always did.

It was taking every ounce of dignity and strength he had not to do it.

"What do you hate about it?"

That broke him from his daydream. "I'm sorry what?"

"What do you hate about the modern world? When I first moved from New York to DC i hated the way people talk. Back home everyone talks fast and straight to the point. No one sugar coats anything and you know precisely where you stand. Here, everything is niceties and small talk. It still drives me crazy sometimes, but I've gotten used to it." You swirl the tea in your mug. "So, what drives you crazy? What can't you stand."

He wanted to say he could not stand the distance between them. The fact that you did not know him. That the love between them was gone. That they had spent so much time apart, years where they could have been building a family together.

“Too much choice.” He said with a smile as he tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. “Back in the 40’s there were about 2 radio channels, you had one ice cream place to go to and movies were 15 cents a pop. People have hundreds if choices now. It's pretty overwhelming. Everything, is buzzing and moving and changing constantly. I can't keep up.”

She hadn't expected that answer but it made sense. "You'll like it here then. Our own little bubble her at the living center. You can stop in for a change of pace whenever you want."

The way you said 'our' and 'you' gave him a jolt of hope. "So, I can come back and help out when I can?" he asked casually.

"Oh, of course you are more then welcome. It benefits everyone don't you think? Plus I can always use the extra hands." You say and give him a grin that makes his whole day worth it.

Steve thought the grin on his face was permanent, he did not even notice his cheeks starting to ache. There was a warm feeling in his chest and he felt a calmness wash over him the longer he was in you're company.

"You got a pen I can borrow Pet?" He said as an idea came to mind.

You pulled an ink pen out of her breast pocket and handed it to him. "Sure."

He took the pen and took a napkin and quickly jotted down his number. "Here," he hands her the napkin back with a lopsided boyish smile, "for next time, you know, when I can help out."

Captain America just gave you his phone number on a napkin. You couldn't help but grin at how cute and old fashioned that was. He looked so boyish and shy, you just had to tease him. "Just for work?"

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