#chris evans fanfic series

[rogersideup]

I'd like to drop a prompt:

The avengers have a night off in Las Vegas after a mission. Thor makes sure Cap has his fair share of Asgardian liquor so Steve ends up drunk and wanders off alone. He meets our dear reader who just got dumped by her friend group and is equally drunk. They hit it off and decide to get married. The next morning both of them are confused but decide to make it work as memories of the night before come back to them. (Surprise surprise dear reader is from New York too)

‧₊˚✧⚁⁠♧777♤⚄✧˚₊‧

Steve Rogers X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Steve gets himself into some trouble while having a night off in the city of sin.

Word Count: 4,717

Warning: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

"Miss?"

Flashing lights separated and splayed through the drying tears in your watery eyes, music and ringing from hundreds of slot machines overstimulated your senses as you simultaneously pulled your dress up and down in different places.

"Excuse me miss? Can I get you something to drink?"

Coming back to your senses, you turned around to face the bartender. "Yeah, uh..." really, you tried your hardest to think of something, literally anything to help move along the buzz you were already riding but no proper words made it to your brain. "Sorry. I'm not sure what I want. Can you just make it strong and fruity?"

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed, already grabbing bottles off the shelf.

Watching him masterfully work helped you zone out and relieved all of your overwhelmed senses. Pouring, shaking, more pouring, a garnish, then a fruity elixir of a bunch of liquids you most definitely could not pronounce was placed right in front of you atop a cocktail napkin. Not a single drop was spilled, even the ice was perfect.

Reaching into your purse, you handed the bartender your card and shouted to try and compete with the volume of drunken gamblers and rolling dice. "You can close the tab."

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house, you look like you need it." He kindly denied your form of payment.

You chuckled to yourself. "That bad, huh?"

"No, but I know a sad chick when I see one." He noted. "Happens pretty often in Vegas."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate it." You raised the glass. "Cheers to you and all the bartenders making the world go round."

"Amen to that" He smiled before walking off to serve yet another drunken customer.

You sat at the bar on a little leather stool fully contemplating how you ended up in this situation as you looked out into the hotel casino and nursed your drink. It didn't take long for you to realize that the Vegas bartenders didn't take the word strong as a joke. Because every sip stung your throat and swirled your thoughts around in slow motion.

The speed at which your thoughts came at you didn't help the fact that every single one of them revolved around nothing but yourself.

What were you going to do now? Where should you go from here?

Drinking wasn't the answer, but not drinking wasn't the solution. Finding shelter in the Caesars Palace hotel was a good enough temporary fix to your problems, so you ignored that you were on the complete opposite side of the Las Vegas strip that you actually needed to be on.

However, getting to your hotel on the complete opposite side was the problem. Your shitty friends completely ditched you, or maybe you ditched them. The details were all so unclear, but the fact was they were all making stupid choices and you couldn't stand to stick around long enough to see the end results of them.

But now you were all done up in high heels and a small little dress in a city you had never been in before, notorious for sex, drugs and alcohol. Luckily, pepper spray in your purse and a back pocket full of self defense techniques that have been drilled into your head ever since you were a little girl were amongst some of the better choices you made tonight.

Then came along all of the dumber choices you would make tonight in the form of yet another fruity drink, and a tall, blonde man looking painfully confused at the roulette table right in front of you.

He was tall and broad, even more handsome than the massive statues of Roman men all around the hotel. But much like the statues around you, he looked like he was carved from marble. The muscles you could see sculpted through his suit jacket could've only been a result of a piece of fine art.

It was easy to pick up his wholesome sweetness behind his big blue eyes, that also did a lot to tell you how drunk the man was. He towered over the table and watched a few rounds, trying his hardest to understand what was happening. Much like him, you watched the ball spin round and round before landing in a slot.

Some of the players would moan and groan at their fate, while others would cheer happily and exchange loud laughter and high-fives.

Mesmerized by the game, you missed the glances the blonde man snuck of you. He really couldn't help it though. His friends had left him all alone while his capacity to make good decisions was at an all time low, and you were just so pretty and maybe a bit sad.

Another round was about to start, so the dealer started taking bets. Everyone around the table started placing their chips on a color and number, and the blonde was still confused.

He looked around again before his eyes met yours, and a stupid invasive smile smeared across your lips. When he noticed your friendly demeanor, he took a few stumbles over to you.

"Do you have any idea how to play this?" The man asked you.

Now you could smell the expensive yet deliciously pleasant cologne he was wearing, and you could take in all the details of his black suit.

Giggling at his cluelessness, you swallowed down the sip of cocktail in your mouth. "I do. Would you like some help?"

"I'm assuming you have to guess if the ball lands on red or black?" He asked as his lopsided smile and squinted eyes told you everything you needed to know about his sobriety... or lack there of.

"That's exactly it, good job." You nodded. "But you can also guess the number, or a group of numbers it'll land on. The payout at the end is based on how accurate your bet is."

"So what should I bet?" He asked you, having already built a strong sense of trust for you in the few minutes he had been observing.

"Oh no, that's not up to me." You shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. "You gotta trust your own gut."

The man's eyes darted around the table once more before his arms motioned to it. "But look around! All of these men have pretty girls telling them what to do, and that's why they're all winning money. You guys are so much smarter than us, and I'm alone so I need you to tell me. Red or black."

Usually, a statement like that from a man like him would have you rolling your eyes and cutting the conversation short. However, either your gut or the alcohol was telling you that he wasn't an asshole.

For some reason, you felt calm and comfortable in his presence all while being unable to wipe the dumb smile off your face. Something about his hair that was once perfectly styled now being a little jostled, and the twinge of pink in his cheeks made him seem so distantly familiar.

"Well thank you for that backhanded compliment." You laughed. "I think you should bet red."

He nodded, trusting your opinion far more than he trusted himself. "Should I place a more specific bet too?"

You thought for a moment, but you were in Vegas so... fuck it. "Yeah. Give me your chip"

The man happily placed the roulette chip into your hand, you stood up in one big sweep and started walking away from the bar. "Woah, don't leave your drink!"

Pleasantly surprised that he had your best interest in mind, you mumbled out a statement of gratitude as he handed the glass to you too. Approaching the table, looked at it for a few moments and tried your hardest to contemplate the best number to place a bet on, but once again no rational thoughts occupied the empty spaces of your brain.

So, you threw the chip on your favorite number, lucky 25.

"There ya go!" You used your free hand to pat the man's shoulder. "Good luck, Blondie."

"What happens if I win?" He asked you, smiling as you let your hand linger. Even with your highest heels on, you were nowhere near as tall as him.

"Then it's your lucky day, and you'll get a shit ton of money." You giggled at his question.

"And if I lose?"

"Then you're unlucky and you're about to lose some money." You snorted.

"That's not going to happen, you're my good luck charm." He declared.

"I don't think anything about my night tonight is radiating lucky energy, so I doubt that."

"What? No way! I feel like I've been the luckiest guy in the whole world today, so maybe I'm your good luck charm."

"I guess we will let the roulette wheel speak the truth of the universe tonight." You shrugged.

"Should we place our own bets on the bet?" The man asked.

"Like what?" You questioned, hoping this wasn't the moment the sweet stranger turned weird and pervy.

"I think if I lose I should probably call it a night and go back to my room because this is the drunkest I've been in probably 80 years." He stated. However, his words flew over your head figuring his drunken words were exaggerated, and you found yourself to be a little sad that your time with the stranger would be cut short so soon.

"I think if you win, you should stay out for a little while and have another drink with me." You smiled, going way out of your own comfort zone.

If you were sober, or maybe even drunk in a bar anywhere other than Las Vegas, you would've been caught dead before being caught to be so bold. But he was pulling you in faster than you've ever felt, and something about him felt so natural and warm.

"Deal." He agreed.

"Look, they're about to spin the wheel." You pointed at the table.

The dealer spun the wheel, and the ball was moving so fast that you could barely even follow it. Even as it slowed down and started to tease each individual slot, the motion of following the sphere going round and round was quite honestly making you a bit dizzy, so you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.

"No way." The blonde stated. "No fucking way!"

His arm wrapped around you from behind and his big warm hands very gently shook the tops of your arms. "Look! It's on red! I can't see the number, but it's on red!"

You giggled and tried your best to keep your balance as he shook you around. When you opened your eyes you could see that the drink in your hand was sloshing around and spilling over onto the impeccably maintained carpet beneath your feet. But the loss of some of your drink was a small price to pay when the dealer picked the ball up out of the wheel and announced "25 Red!"

Simultaneously, you and Blondie let out little screeches in surprise and joy when you realized you had actually placed a winning bet. In all your years on this planet, nothing like this had ever happened to you. You never even won $5 on a penny slot, let alone a fat wad of cash that was being placed into the man's hands.

After the cheering celebration and laughter died down, he turned to you. "See! I knew you were lucky!"

"You trusted your intuition, and you won!" You noted with a smile so big and long lasting it was starting to make your cheeks sore. "Good job."

"Here! This is yours." He placed the wad of cash in your hands.

"What? No. You bet your own money, it's yours." Not being able to accept it, especially when you saw it was all $100 bills.

"No it's yours! You placed the winning bet, you knew the magic number so I want you to have it." He explained kindly. "You said nothing about your night was lucky, so consider this your sign from the universe."

"I can't just accept all of this money from a complete stranger." You denied once more. "You're very sweet, I would feel so guilty taking this from you."

"Fine, if you can't accept the money for yourself, how about we go spend it together?" He offered. "I owe you another drink anyways, then after that the Las Vegas strip is our oyster!"

"That's a little better" You agreed with a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't even get your name."

"O-oh!" The man seemed to be taken back by that statement for a second. A look of momentary confusion furrowed his eyebrows before a happy smile returned to his kind face. "Sorry, I'm Steve!"

You made a small mental note of his initial shock that you asked for his name, but your drunken brain didn't hold onto that for very long.

"Alright Steve, here's the plan." You rocked up on your tippy toes and kept yourself braced with a steady hand on his solid shoulder so he could hear you better in the loud and chaotic environment. "Half my drink just ended up on the floor when you won, so I'm going to order another one. Then after that, I somehow need to end the night at my hotel on the complete opposite end of the strip without getting taken or murdered. So if we can somehow make it from here to there while blowing through that money you just won, then I'd be more than happy to help you spend it."

Steve's eyes went wide in concern at your statement. "Where are you staying?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "My gut is telling me not to tell a strange man where I'm staying."

"Smart girl, but I'm not letting you walk down the strip alone at night. The people here are crazy." He challenged. "No funny business. Pinky promise."

Steve raised his pinky for you with a genuine look of promise and concern on his face. "Do people often trust you to get them to safety?"

His cheeks turned pinker, and he let out an adorable giggle. "Yeah, I think most people find me to be very trustworthy."

"No funny business." You lifted your hand and wrapped your pinky around his with a quick handshake. "I'm staying at New York, New York."

"Oh wow, we have a long way to go with lots of chances to blow through that stack." He smiled. "What are you drinking? I'll order you another one."

"Honestly, I have no idea." You admitted, smile coming back to your face.

"Okay great! That helps me a lot" The blonde laughed.

"Excuse me" You politely flagged down the bartender. The same one from earlier coming back, you showed him your glass. "Can I get another one of these please? And whatever he wants?"

You looked to Steve who looked between you and the bartender. "Just two waters please."

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed.

"What? You're not going to have a drink?" You questioned.

He pulled a copper flask out of the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. "I'll drink more, but this is stronger."

"Oh, nothing here is strong enough for you?" You raised a brow, your smile growing just as lopsided as his.

"Nope. This stuff is special, it comes straight from another realm."

Laughing at his joke, as you handed the bartender cash straight from the wad Steve gave you. "That's funny, because I hope this is strong enough to make me feel like I'm no longer in this realm, so cheers to that!"

You and Steve sat at that bar for a solid two hours as conversation topics flew at the two of you unexpectedly fast. Each one new topic was short lived as an enthusiastic response would happily slip off one of your tongues, so excited that the two of you had so much in common.

Then, Steve decided to start the shopping spree. He offered you a hand to help you off the stool, which quickly turned into a protective arm around you, or ushering you the entirety of your time together. He knew that the men on the Vegas strip were pigs, but he underestimated how bad it really was.

But the cat calls, whistles, and lingering eyes were drowned out by the city sounds and the big flashing marquee lights that littered the sides of every building you passed. It was just as mesmerizing as the night before, skipping down the streets in a drunken haze with your best friends.

Now you were mesmerized by not only sin city, but the mysterious man you were following around as if you'd known him your whole life.

With a sense of childlike wonder the two of you ended up in silly places like the M&M's store, and the Coca-Cola store, but you also ventured into more classy designer establishments where you convinced him to buy a lovely new belt at Louis Vuitton.

It looked good, he looked good. You had to work really hard to contain the drool in your mouth as you watched him take off his old belt to replace it with the new one.

He tried to buy you a new bag, but once again you were being stubborn and were having a hard time accepting such a generous offer.

So, you suggested another drink. Just one more.

More sitting and chatting with Steve, you swallowed down the liquid in your cup while he shot the rest of the liquid in his flask.

That last drink was the worst of your poor decision making that night, or so you thought.

Because the last memory you had was sitting at that bar and really admiring him.

The alcohol had turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy pink color that somehow made his blue eyes shine even brighter, and add to the wholesome energy you felt radiating from him.

Sweet, silly, carefree, handsome, safe.

Then, you woke up.

Slowly at first. Your eyes opened and the dull pounding at the back of your skull wasn't nearly at bad as you deserved. The air conditioning did wonders keeping you comfortable, the light peaked through the black out curtains, and your belongings scattered across the room confirmed that you were definitely in the right place.

You looked around more. M&m's bag, Louis Vuitton bag... Converse bag? You didn't remember buying shoes. Wait... how did you get here?

Only then did you wake up FAST. You sat up, and your heart pounded as you realized that Blondie was in your bed. The sudden movement made your head pound even harder, but the good news was that he was fully clothed and was sleeping above the covers.

You were also asleep and fully clothed, but both of you were in different clothes than you had on last night. That's probably what those shopping bags in the corner were...

Carefully rolling out of bed to try and make yourself somewhat presentable and aid along trying to process what happened last night, you walked into the bathroom.

Wash your face, brush your teeth, fix your hair.

By the time you came out, Blondie was sitting up in bed with his legs on the floor, shooting you an apologetic look. He was apprehensive, scared to gauge how sick and unenthusiastic you would be by his presence this morning.

"Good morning." He said quietly, voice deep and raspy from inhaling the dry air and residual cigarette smoke.

"Morning." You tried to be polite, clutching the side of your head. "What happened? How did we- how did any of this-"

"Nothing happened." Steve reassured you. "I would never take advantage-"

"Okay, okay." You nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved. "Advil. I have Advil."

Waking over to the table in the hotel room, you grabbed the bottle of painkillers and a water. You opened both and popped two little pills in your mouth, washing them down with water.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much either. It's been a really long time since I've gotten drunk. This is really out of the ordinary for me." He explained.

"I guess we're on the same boat then." You agreed with him before a couple pieces of paper catch your eye.

"I guess I should probably go?" Steve stated, but it was more of a question. This was the first time he ever found himself waking up next to a stranger.

"No, you stay right there." You insisted frantically, picking up the piece of paper.

Certificate of marriage.

Your name signed at the bottom next to another signature that read Steven G Rogers.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

You studied the signature, looked at his face, looked at the signature, then his face again.

In the table, there was a picture of the two of you kissing. Him in his suit, you in the dress you wore last night but also a veil.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, so much information to process.

"What?" Steve questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh my god!" You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"You didn't tell me..." You puffed out a breath, then an unexpected giggle left your throat. Of course, this would happen to you the one time in your life you didn't behave like a perfect angel. "Captain America?"

"Oh... Guilty?" Steve's shoulders sunk. "I introduced myself, no?"

"As Steve." You exaggerated.

"Yeah, I'm Steve." He agreed.

"Well, at least I was safe." Finding the benefit of the doubt. "Do you remember getting married last night, Steve?"

You passed the paper and the picture to him, and his face contorted into an expression you couldn't quite read. "...wow."

"Wow?" You questioned. "I unknowingly married Captain America last night and all you have for me is wow?"

"Holy shit." Steve looked up at you.

"That's better." You nodded.

"You don't look panicked" Steve noted.

"I'm not panicked because at least you're a superhero." You explained. "That counts for something right? Like people won't think I'm totally inane for marrying a stranger when they find out it's Captain America? And like... a superhero means you have people who come and clean up after you right? Someone can fix this right?"

You watched the gears turn in his head. "... I have to call Tony."

Tony. Who's Tony? Think. Superhero, avengers, Steve, Captain America. Tony... IRON MAN.

"Stark?" Your eyebrows raised. Steve nodded, pulling out his phone. "Now I'm freaking out. I'm really freaking out."

"It's okay, give me a second." Steve said calmly.

You nodded, the remembered you should check your phone too. As he spoke quietly to Tony, you looked around for your phone before finding it on the night stand, flooded with dozens of missed calls and texts from friends wondering where you were. You quickly sent off a text in a group chat saying you'd explain later, and that you were okay.

Eventually Steve ended the call. "He said he'll be here in a minute or two."

"Oh, okay great." You said exaggerating your nonchalance. "No biggie. Iron man coming over to read my marriage certificate to Captain America."

Steve giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation. "My mother would be over the moon to find out I'm married."

"My mom might have me 6 feet in a grave if she ever finds out about this." You sat back down on the bed next to him.

"When do you leave Vegas?" Steve questioned.

"My flight is at nine tonight. What about you?"

"Flying home at six thirty." He informed you. "Where do you live?"

"New York" You said simply. "Queens."

"We both live in New York and we’re staying in a New York themed hotel? What a small world." Steve noted. "Maybe we don't have to fit in a divorce before this evening."

"I mean... you are very handsome so I definitely wouldn't mind staying married to you for a few days until we get this figured out." You grinned.

A small blush stippled his cheeks at your compliment. “You’re so pretty I would’ve never had the courage to talk to you if I wasn’t drunk.”

Just like him, you blushed at his admission, and giggled at his words. “This doesn’t feel like real life.”

“Maybe I should’ve gotten you a ring instead of whatever the hell we bought last night.” Steve thought.

You looked down at your left hand, and sure enough, there was a pretty ring on your finger. You lifted it up to show him. “Looks like you were two steps ahead of yourself”

“Oh, good.” He chuckled. “At least there’s that.”

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You looked at Steve with wide eyes and nervousness building up in your tummy at the thought of being in the same room with one third of the Avengers.

“I’ll get it” He reassured you, standing up to answer the door.

Before you knew it, Tony Stark confidently barreled into the room. Firing some teasing words at Steve, you knew the poor guy would never hear the end of it.

“Oh look, here she is!” Tony announced.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Stark.” You shook his hand.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine Mrs. Rogers.” He smiled.

“Tony” Steve warned with a glare.

“Where’s the paper work?” Tony asked.

You quickly handed him the picture and the signed document that was on the table. Steve stood right next to you as you both watched him read over it, and evaluate the legitimacy.

Tony took out his phone snapped a few pictures, and made a weird face. Nervously, you his your face in Steve’s arm and he instinctively rubbed your back to comfort you.

Then, Tony started laughing. “Rogers you’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware, but what’s so funny?” Steve complained.

“It’s fake.” Tony said.

“What?” Your head popped up.

“Little white chapel, married by Elvis just for the gag type of thing. There’s no marriage license, it’s not a legal marriage.” He explained, handing you the papers back.

Both you and Steve let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe I’m not that much of an idiot after all.”

“No, you’re still stupid.” Tony denied. “Out of all the people in the world I would’ve never expected this from you, Cap.”

“This is Thor’s fault.” Steve pointed his finger.

You didn’t understand how the god of thunder had anything to do with this, but you had no mental capacity left to even ask.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Just be on time for the flight home and stay out of trouble.” Tony told him. “Hope to see you around again soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

And just like that, he was out faster than he came in.

“I know Tony made it seem like everything is okay, but it’s not and I have a giant mess to clean up with the team.” Steve explained to you.

“Yeah, I’d assume so.” You smiled.

“Which means I really should go.” He let you down. “But regardless of this fiasco, and from what I do remember, I had a lot of fun with you last night. Would you want to exchange phone numbers and maybe hang out again when we get home?”

“I would love that, Steve.” You agreed.

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours. Both putting in your phone numbers and names before swapping them back.

At the same time, you both burst out laughing at the contact names.

Unplanned, he put his name as Husband, and you put yours as Wife.

“Ridiculous!” You laughed, walking him to the door.

“Maybe we really were meant to be.” Steve pondered.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But in all seriousness, thank you for getting me home safe last night. I was really lucky to run into the right person at the right time.”

“Of course.” Steve grinned. “Travel safe, and let me know when you get home so we can set something up.”

“You got it.” Rocking up on your tippy toes, you kissed his cheek. “Have fun cleaning up that mess, Husband.”

“Don’t tell your Mom about this, Wife.”

You locked your lips and threw away the key. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧��♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

She was content and in love, she thought she married the one she would spend the rest of her life with. Fate seemed to have another plan for her. One that involved her to finally learn the truth, causing two relationships to be tragically ruined and hidden memories to suddenly come to light. She finally gets on the path she was meant to be on in the beginning.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate our works. You are responsible for your own media consumption. headers are made by me.

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

!warning! This series will include heartbreak, divorce, detailed cheating, bad thoughts towards self, betrayal, back-stabbing, horrible relationships, slight gaslighting and manipulation, smut (from cheating and maybe when she finds happiness).

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

part 1 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 2 - 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 3 - 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 4 - 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞...

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part 5 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 6 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 7 - 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

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

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

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

word count: 4813

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, your highness?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you expect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Barnes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, your highness.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[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

Series in progress

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Ransom's POV of their first meeting.

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Lola

[worksby-d]

Wrong Donut

Pairing: Andy Barber x pregnant!Reader

Summary: You can't get your favorite donut with your coffee, so Andy lets you cry to him about it over the phone 😖 (Idea from a lovely anon).

Warnings: None. Just soft and silly 🤭

Word count: ~800

∘◦❀◦∘

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Repeating the words in your head only makes it worse really. 

Pulling up to the drive thru window, you’re thankful you have your sunglasses on so the teenager working doesn’t have to see that he inadvertently ruined a pregnant woman's day by telling you that they’re out of your favorite donut.

The short drive back to work is spent blinking tears away so you can see. You think–hope–it does the trick to ward them off completely.

It feels like you’re in the clear until you sit down at your desk to drink your coffee and, reluctantly, the donut the guy recommended to you instead of your usual. You only said yes to it because any more words out of your mouth would have given away the sob you were holding back.

You break down when you open the paper bag and catch a glimpse of it. Not the same.

“Fuck,” you curse at yourself for being so upset, pushing the bag away. 

Wiping some tears off your cheeks with your sweater, you grab your phone and fast walk down the hall to a restroom so no one can see you. 

The only way you know how to cope lately is calling Andy and hoping he has time to let you vent. The poor guy. You suspect one of these days he’ll just stop taking your calls, but you hope it's not today. 

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him. 

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself. 

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice. 

He can hear the frown on your face. 

“What's wrong?” 

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle. 

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?” 

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does. 

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…” 

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.” 

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.” 

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again. 

“Where are you, by the way?” 

“Hiding in the bathroom.” 

He smiles hearing you laugh a little. 

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.” 

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word. 

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.” 

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks. 

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” you beam at him. 

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s that?” 

“For you,” he winks. 

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier. 

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

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[universitypenguin]

Chapter 29

The Princess & the Lawyer

Summary: In the aftermath of the incident, Lloyd grapples with his emotions and begins to wonder about their future.

Word Count: 4,605  

Warnings: Mention of adult content such as sex and drug use. Non-explicit references to child abuse, which is made clear by a character’s reactions and implied by their internal reflection, but not discussed in specific or graphic terms.

Author’s Note: Thank you for coming back to read this, despite my long absence! Full Author’s Note can be found here.

Masterlist 

Lloyd wasn’t where he should be. 

He should be sitting at your bedside, like men did when the women they loved were injured. Instead, he stood by the window. His gaze was fixed on the leafless silhouettes of the tree branches outside, drawn there because if he was looking at them he wasn’t looking at you, swathed in bandages and draped in sheets that bore an unsettling resemblance to a shroud. 

Injured felt like too plain of a word to describe your condition. You’d rammed a car head-on into a concrete barrier at high speed and a moment later, Westin Tafferty had shot you in the head at close range. The doctors said the bullet had grazed your parietal bone and fractured your skull, triggering internal bleeding. Within minutes of arriving at the hospital you’d been rushed into the operating room for an emergent craniotomy.

Now, you were sedated in a coma and no one could say if the surgery had been successful or not. The carefully titrated medications flowing through your I.V. masked any sign of improvement or deterioration. As long as the sedatives infused, you remained trapped in a stasis where no one could tell if you were healing or slipping away. Until they dialed back the drugs the state of suspension would persist. He’d asked, but no one was willing to estimate when they’d begin tapering off the medication–or if that was even part of the plan. 

Behind him, the ventilator hissed. Lloyd twisted his neck, trying to ease the tension as his eyes drifted over the landscape. Your room overlooked the courtyard, which wasn’t much to see, especially after the weekend’s turn in the weather. Skeletal tree branches stretched toward the sky, stripped bare by last night’s windstorm, which had brought in an unexpected cold front that settled into a hard frost. Just yesterday, the leaves had been turning yellow. Today they were scattered in a thick carpet over the grass. Your day nurse had told him it was the earliest frost since 1979. Lloyd hadn’t offered a response. 

In fact, he’d barely registered her remark at all. Information hadn’t been sticking in his mind lately. Between the car accident, the shooting, and the discovery that Westin Tafferty had been stalking you all along, his brain had short-circuited. The machinery in his head was broken. Synapses fired sluggishly, like a circuit board trying to transmit a signal through frayed wires. His thoughts flickered, dimmed, then disappeared.

He twisted his neck and scanned to the left, his gaze colliding with a reflection in the glass. The image was distorted but he could make out your form lying in the hospital bed directly behind him. Monitors were packed around your bed. A screen displayed your vitals, another showed wavy lines related to breathing, and one monitored intracranial pressure. A drain connected to your skull through a thin tube—that was a left over from the operation. He’d been curious about it but hadn’t asked. After two days in the ICU, he’d learned it was sometimes better not to know. On the other side of the bed, an infusion pump was hooked to the I.V. in your forearm, along with a ventilator.

The machine noisily breathed for you. He’d grown so used to its rhythmic—whoosh, thump…pause… hiss—that the sounds faded into the background. Looking at your reflection in the glass was easier than actually looking at you. It softened the bruises that had deformed your features and hid the traction splint on your left lower leg. But the ventilator’s whir was a constant reminder that a machine was all that stood between you and death. Lloyd inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. He took a long breath, drawing the air in deep to ease the sudden wave of nausea. His phone buzzed.

Expecting it was your mother or Vivian, Lloyd fished the device out of his pocket. The message was from an unsaved number.

I’m at the nurse’s station. Which hallway should I take?

Lloyd frowned and scrolled through the messages. He’d exchanged about a dozen texts with this number over the weekend, the details of which were fuzzy in his memory. It took some scrolling to realize the number belonged to Jen Kyzansky. Right. He remembered now. Jen had promised she’d stop by after work and it was five o’clock. He’d asked her to visit after an exchange with your day nurse, who confirmed that coma patients could sometimes hear people. Not always—but in some cases. 

He could barely stand to look at you in this condition, let alone speak, so he’d called in reinforcements. For all his personal dislike of the woman he was supremely confident in her ability to carry on a one-sided conversation. She would keep it positive and upbeat and talk about things you’d enjoy. You needed Jen right now, not him. 

He sent instructions to guide her through the maze of hallways and stepped outside the glass booth the ICU considered a “room” to wait for her arrival. A moment later, someone carrying a giant vase of flowers rounded the corner. Though he couldn’t see the person’s upper half, he recognized the tailored oxblood trousers. Jen shifted the flowers to her hip to read the room placards. Before he could call out, she spotted him and picked up the pace. When she was an arm’s length away she stopped, her gaze sweeping up and down his form. 

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t smirk, as he’d expected. “When was the last time you slept?”

Lloyd shrugged. He tried to sneer–after all, it was the customary greeting between him and Jen–but his features wouldn’t cooperate. To his dismay, her expression softened into something that looked suspiciously like sympathy.

“Go home. Take a hot shower and a couple Benadryl. Once you’ve slept, you’ll feel better.”

“Will I?” He’d been aiming for sarcasm but a waver of apprehension snuck into his voice instead. 

Her chin lifted. “Yes, you will. Call someone to drive you home, or at least drink some coffee. Driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.” 

Lloyd obeyed. At the end of the hall, he glanced back to see Jen sitting beside your bed. Jealousy cut through him. It was irrational, given that he had all afternoon to do what Jen was doing now, but unfortunately he couldn’t look at you for more than thirty seconds without wanting to throw himself off the roof. 

At the elevator bank his gaze drifted to the window as he waited for the car. It offered a different perspective on the same barren trees he’d stared at from your room. In a few months they’d be reborn, sprouting new buds and leafing out. Nature healed itself, even after the most brutal storms. He had no such ability. His wounds didn’t heal; they stayed with him, out of sight, but always festering under the surface. Lloyd scrubbed a hand over his face. Wallowing in self-pity didn’t do you any good. It wasn’t good for him, either, as painful emotions tended to corrode his self-control. He could feel the chaos welling up and worried that he wouldn’t be able to contain it much longer. The stitches of his composure were straining, threatening to tear apart. 

How could he ever support you if he couldn’t control his own emotions? He’d sent Jen in as his substitute for a task as basic as sitting by your bed and talking. He was useless—he couldn’t even look at you! You needed him right now, and he couldn't even look at you. He was a coward, and not because of the fear, but because he was letting it dictate his actions.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The elevator took him down to the lobby. As Jen suggested, he stopped by the coffee shop and ordered a London Fog. It was late afternoon, and aside from him and the barista, the shop was empty. That made sense. At five o’clock on a Monday most people were still at work, stuck in traffic, or picking up their kids.

Nothing played over the speakers and the weight of the silence pressed down on him. Lloyd sat down at a table to wait. He listened to the hum of the espresso machine, the soft clatter of metal instruments as the barista stirred his tea. His thoughts drifted back upstairs, comparing the quiet sounds of the coffee shop to the symphony of whirling, hissing, and beeping that filled your room. If you were here, you’d have ordered something so sugary and caffeinated that it ought to come with a Surgeon General’s warning. 

“Lloyd, your London Fog,” the barista called.

He collected his drink and turned to face a jarring sight—a group of nurses gathered in a loose semi-circle on the other side of the glass partition separating the shop from the hallway. They all wore the same unmistakable shade of green. Over the past few days, he’d learned the color coding system of the hospital’s scrubs: navy blue for ICU nurses, burgundy for lab techs, pale blue for surgical staff, and a garish shade of sea-foam green that identified this group as trauma nurses. His grip tightened around the cup, the heat seeping through the paper doing nothing to thaw the sudden chill in his fingers. The sight of the trauma nurses triggered a flood of memories, sharp and uninvited. 

The drive into the city. Detective Roth’s hands tight on the steering wheel as he wove through traffic. The flashing dash lights in the silent car, no wail of sirens overhead because those were only for official emergencies…Walking past the destroyed trauma bay, its floor littered with the debris of plastic packaging and soiled gauze, as a gray scrubbed man mopped blood off linoleum tiles. Meeting your parents in the waiting room of the surgical suite. The doctor entering, asking if anyone was ready to see you. Your mother, crying, too distraught to accompany your father to the post-anesthesia unit… Vivian suggesting Lloyd go with him instead…

Dishes clattered in the sink, snapping him back to the present. Lloyd pulled his gaze from the nurses and moved to a table, deliberately facing away from them, but the image of those green scrubs lingered in his mind.

For the past seventy-two hours, he’d clung to the hope that you would wake up, that somehow you’d shake off a traumatic brain injury as if it were nothing more than a common cold. The sheer absurdity of such magical thinking grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t stop the optimistic thought from creeping in. Being irrational didn’t change the facts, though, and two days later your diagnosis remained unchanged: critical but stable.

The word “stable” circled in his mind. He rolled the word silently over his tongue, as if repeating it would make it easier to accept. Stable meant things weren’t getting worse, but it didn’t mean they were getting better either. It was a fragile reassurance, one that only made him more anxious the longer he sat with it. The fact that you were stable didn’t offer any hint of what came next, whether you’d recover or languish in this state forever. Instead of easing his fears, the thought of your impending recovery opened up an uncomfortable set of questions, chief among them: where did your relationship go from here? 

Recent events had solidified one fact—whatever this relationship was, it wasn’t casual. Not anymore. He couldn’t deny it, not when he’d spent days by your bedside, received updates from your family, and been added to your list of emergency contacts. The lack of questioning about his presence from either of your parents symbolized how entrenched your relationship had become. Vivian likely played a role in that, but it reinforced the same point: he was more than just your friend. What exactly he was remained unexamined as of yet, but it was only a matter of time.

There was an eighteen year age gap between you. While he’d packed for college, you’d turned two weeks old. Your future was filled with hope and potential, any path was open and ready to be explored whenever you craved something more. He’d wasted his future already, thrown it away on bad decisions, mental instability, and addiction. The gap between you wasn’t just measured in years but also by directions; your lives were moving along different paths. You had spent this spring considering your options for law school and Lloyd had mapped out a tax-efficient withdrawal plan for his retirement funds. 

He wasn’t blind to the fact that the age gap was part of what had drawn you to him. You’d wanted sexual experience, and he had plenty to offer. His sophistication and confidence were traits you appreciated in him, even as a friend. Sometimes he wondered if it was him you were drawn to, or the feeling of security he provided. You’d had too many responsibilities handed to you too early. He was good at taking charge. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the attraction stemmed from. Doubt gnawed at him. Did you want him, or did you just want someone competent, who made you feel safe? He wasn’t the only man who could meet those needs. Lloyd wished he could pretend otherwise, but he couldn’t see how both your futures could coexist in the long term.

The chime of the door announced the admission of two new patrons to the coffee shop. A pair of nurses in pink scrubs entered, giggling at some private joke as they formed a queue at the counter. Labor and delivery nurses, Lloyd guessed, judging by their uniforms. Their conversation quickly confirmed his assumption and in the tight confines of the shop, he couldn’t help but overhear them. 

“I almost called him her dad,” the brunette said. “He’s like three times her age, it's the obvious way to go!”

“Melanie flagged the chart with a note.” 

“Yeah, but by the time I saw it the word ‘dad’ was already halfway out of my mouth.” 

“You really called him her Dad?!”

“I tried to change it to Dale. The transition was not smooth. Not at all. They stared at me like I was crazy. Then I made up some B.S. about how he looks like a Dale—”

Her friend snickered. “Girl…”

“Shut up! The man has white hair! He’s lucky I didn’t call him Grandpa.”

The other shook her head. “Can you imagine having a kid with a guy that old?”

“No thanks. You?”

“Pfft, absolutely not.” She wrinkled her nose. 

“Neither of them thought this through. The risk isn’t worth it.” 

“Hell no,” her friend agreed. “The odds of all that scary genetic crap is like six times as high with fathers over forty.”

“What about fathers over eighty?” the brunette giggled. 

“You know it’s harder for guys to get someone pregnant once they’re over forty?”

“It’s like nature’s way of cutting the old timers off.” 

“Not if they’re persistent!”

They both laughed. 

Lloyd pulled out his phone and pretended to be occupied. The nurses quickly exited the shop after their orders were filled, but they’d given his thoughts a new path to wander down. There was a good chance that you’d want a family someday, given how healthy and tight-knit yours was. You were good with children. The idea of you not being a mother was somehow unfathomable to him. A chill ran down his spine. He could easily imagine the same story he’d just overheard being told about him. 

It wasn’t wise to become a father after a certain age, Lloyd mused. He cringed and shook himself, disturbed by the seriousness of the thought. There was no reason to consider such things. He had decided long ago that he didn’t want children. The Hansen line would end with him, and there would be no heir to carry on the family curse.

His mind drifted to Zach’s comment about vasectomies and his insinuation that Lloyd was keeping his options open by not getting snipped. Suddenly, that accusation hit too close to home. Being in a relationship with a much younger woman opened the door to that possibility, and you’d both been complacent by relying on only one form of birth control for the past few months.

What if you asked him for a baby? Would he be able to deny you what you wanted, even knowing the risks? He winced. No. He couldn’t be a father. He didn’t have the temperament for it, nor the energy it demanded.

You deserved to be with someone who could give you the full experience of parenthood—someone younger, willing to endure sleepless nights, with the stamina to chase after a toddler. He couldn’t picture himself running after a child at his current age, let alone keeping up with a teenager. By the time your child graduated high school, he’d be at least sixty, if not older. You needed someone with more life ahead of them than he had to offer.

Maybe you didn’t want children. For a moment, the thought sparked a flood of relief. But guilt came fast on its heels, crushing the tiny flicker of hope. How could he even think that? It wasn’t his decision to make. He had no right to wish you’d give up something as fundamental as motherhood just to accommodate his shortcomings. You might be willing to accept the limitations brought on by his age and past, but he couldn’t ask that of you. Your future didn’t need to be burdened by his realities. 

He wished he didn’t have to think of these unpleasant things, that time could freeze everything as it was and your relationship could stay vague and undefined forever, but time marched on and there was no escaping the truth. Being with him came at a cost, and you’d already paid the price. If not for your friendship with him, Court Gentry never would have known your name. If Lloyd hadn’t turned down Court’s request for help—not once, but twice—you wouldn’t have been drawn into his reckless scheme to expose the spy at Bishop & Howard. 

Then there was Westin Tafferty. His grudge against Lloyd had made you a target. Without that connection, Tafferty wouldn’t have spent months harassing and stalking you. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you. The worst part was that Lloyd still couldn’t remember meeting him; whether Tafferty hadn’t made much of an impression or Lloyd had been too high to recall their introduction was up for debate. But Zach had confirmed the truth: Tafferty had spent twenty years working for the NSA and he’d crossed paths with Lloyd on more than one occasion. Detective Diskant had recovered the flash drive you’d hidden and spent the weekend piecing things together. There was plenty of evidence, enough for three life sentences, but Tafferty had vanished.

Even forgotten memories from his past haunted him—and by extension, you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t untangle the past from the present. You’d had a brush with his past in Singapore, then again in Qatar. Apparently, those close calls hadn’t been warning enough, because this time the consequences had really caught up and now there was a machine breathing for you. 

Lloyd’s tea had gone cold, but he was still deep in thought when Zach entered the coffee shop. His leather jacket creaked, stiff from the cold, as he sat down in the opposite chair. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Zach said, unzipping his jacket. He regarded Lloyd with a knowing gaze. “You look like you’re plotting something. Care to share?”

“I’m not plotting anything.” 

Zach’s eyebrow twitched, and Lloyd sighed, amending his statement. 

“Not now at least.” 

Zach leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands behind his head. “Alright.” 

Lloyd grunted, picked up his tea and sipped, wincing at the bitter taste. 

“Is that tea?”

“Yes.”

“Disgusting.”

“It’s one less addiction to manage,” Lloyd said. 

“Mmmhhh.” 

Silence fell. Zach didn’t speak. He maintained the same relaxed posture but his eyes watched Lloyd with the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse. It was a pressure tactic that worked wonders in the interrogation room. Lloyd disliked having it used on him and felt ridiculous for wanting to fill the lingering silence, yet the thoughts bouncing around in his head had to go somewhere. He weighed the risks and decided that Zach was the safest option.

“Do you ever think about…kids?”  

Zach braced his elbows on the table. “No. I settled that issue a long time ago.” 

Lloyd rubbed his jaw, scowling at the itchiness of the three-day stubble he hadn’t found time to shave off. 

“Nurses were just in here talking about congenital issues with older fathers, the odds of it and such, that’s all.” 

Zach waved his hand. “You’re borrowing trouble.” 

“I’m not saying I want kids,” Lloyd rushed to clarify. 

“Spare me the bullshit. Let’s talk about it. You’re twisting yourself up over statistics without considering the rest of the picture.”

“What do you mean?”

“How many Gulf War vets, who were exposed to God-knows-what in Kuwait, had kids? And most of them were fine, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’ve researched it for decades and still can’t find a strong link. Genetic problems depend on a lot of factors.” 

He must not have looked persuaded because Zach continued. 

“How many twenty-five-year olds vape? Eat a diet of pure junk food? You’re healthier right now than most younger men could dream of being. Hell, you’re drinking tea.” 

Lloyd scoffed. “I don’t drink coffee so I’m off the hook?”

“And you eat turkey bacon, which is pathetic and un-American, but to each their own. Seriously, if it’s bothering you, get your sperm tested.”

“Do what?”

“Get your sperm tested,” Zach said, as casually as if he were reminding Lloyd to check his tire pressure. 

“Sperm testing? They do that?”

“Yeah. I had mine tested before and after my vasectomy.”

“Checking it right now wouldn’t matter much. Princess and I are in different places in life. By the time she’s ready to have kids…” Lloyd trailed off. 

“Deposit it at a sperm bank, they’ll put it on ice for later. Of course that’d take all the fun out of things, but it heads off the worst-case scenario.” 

Lloyd let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as Zach’s logic cut through his spiraling. 

“Get your head on straight and focus on what you can control,” Zach said. 

“Which would be?”

The blond man’s face turned serious. “I have news.” 

Lloyd arched his brow. 

“Westin is dead.” 

“Since when?” 

“His body was found this afternoon—a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.”

Disgust hit first, followed by a surge of regret that twisted into concern. The disgust came from the fact that he hadn’t brought about Westin’s death by his own hand. Regret came from knowing, intuitively, how Westin’s death had played out. His eyes locked with Zach’s who read the unspoken assumption in them.. 

“I didn’t do it.”

“The others?” 

“No.”

“What about…”

“Possible,” Zach said. “No one knows where Gentry disappeared to, but I have a source that thinks he’s still in the city.”

“I might have something on that.”

“Care to share?”

“No.” 

“I take it you’re going to try and talk to him one-on-one?”

“Maybe.”

Zach snorted. “Because that went so well last time around.”

“Has anyone claimed the body?”

“No. They asked Bishop to identify him. Diskant said the scene was clean. There were no fingerprints other than Westin’s on the gun.” 

“There are still loose threads,” Lloyd said. 

“If you mean Aiden, he’s been arrested. Bishop has a friend at the district attorneys’ who says he’s going to be charged with espionage tomorrow.”

“Not the loose thread I was thinking of, but that’s good to hear.” 

“Tell me where the other loose thread is and I’ll take care of it,” Zach offered. 

“No. He’s worth more to us alive than dead.”

”Are you up to talking to him? Because you look like shit.” 

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Screw you.” 

He shoved back from the table, snagged his empty cup and headed for the trash can. At the counter, he was about to toss it when something in the gleaming back panel of the espresso machine caught his eye. His blood froze at the sight of a familiar face staring back at him.

Joe. 

Somehow, Joe Hansen had crawled out of the grave and back up to the land of the living. There was no mistaking that face. The deep purple circles under his eyes, the dry, reddened skin partially hidden by a heavy five o’clock shadow, and bloodshot eyes from too much whiskey left Lloyd paralyzed for a moment. When his mind kicked back into gear, his first thought was almost smug: I knew you were too mean to die. But when he looked over his shoulder, there was no one behind him. Zach had stepped out to take a phone call. The shop was empty. His gaze turned back to the reflection. The eyes weren’t brown. They were crystal blue. 

It wasn’t Joe. It was him. 

He hadn’t shaved since Friday and had the scruff to prove it. A sleepless weekend explained the bloodshot eyes and dark circles. The wind and cold, combined with neglect of his skincare routine, had stripped his skin raw, leaving it cracked and red like a drunk’s. He looked as if he’d gone on a three-day bender instead of spending the weekend in a hospital room. He looked like Joe Hansen—even more so than usual. 

Lloyd stared at the reflection until his eyes couldn’t focus anymore. It didn’t make a difference. The image was burned into his brain. It wasn’t just their physical resemblance, it went deeper. The need for control, the volcanic temper. The chaos he’d spent his whole life trying to keep at bay. He crumpled up his cup and tossed it into the canister with more force than he’d meant to. A heavy weight settled in his chest. No matter how hard he tried to outrun it, Joe’s blood still ran in his veins. He’d rather die than admit it, but the truth, that he and Joe were fruit of the same tree, was inescapable. 

He stepped out of the coffee shop into the cold. Its icy bite was nothing compared to the pain of the knowledge that was sinking into his bones. He couldn’t keep you in his life, not in good conscience, not knowing the evil that lurked inside of him. The leaves crunched under his feet and the sound was like a physical reminder: nothing lasts forever. Your relationship had already stretched long beyond its season. No matter how much he wished otherwise, soon the pieces of your lives would no longer fit together. You’d outgrow him. Once that happened, any attempt he made to patch up the seams would cause it to unravel further.

The revelation cleared his mind, though his heart felt ten degrees colder. His chest throbbed, but at least the mental storm that had raged for days finally broke, leaving a hollow stillness in its wake. There wasn’t a choice for him to make, only a truth for him to accept. Your relationship was temporary and it would soon draw to a close. He couldn’t risk holding you back or allowing his past to endanger you again. The facts were clear cut, black-and-white. There was a wrong decision and a right one.  If he wanted you to have the future that you deserved he had to do the right thing.

He had to break things off. Whether it broke his own heart didn’t matter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Coming Soon - Chapter XXX

Masterlist 

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Taglist: @denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess

@amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida

@mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp

@calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038 @lokislady82 @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @thewritergremlin-rae @raven-blue3000 @samfreakingwinchester

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Dating Sam Wilson Headcanons

Sam is perfection. He's the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.

He's kind, he's brave, he's absolutely in love with you, he knows how to take care of you.

People underestimate him. It's obvious, since he hangs out with super soldiers like Steve and Bucky, but you're very happy for Sam, your boyfriend. You love Sam for what he is, you appreciate his abilities honestly, and give him credit where it's due.

Sam pretends to be happy and confident all the time, but you can see beneath his charming exterior.

He has insecurities, has low confidence, and a lot of self-doubt. He's an Avenger, and a lot of things come with that. You always try to reassure him that what he's doing is enough, and that he's more than enough, sometimes it convinces him, sometimes it doesn't.

His love language is acts of service. He's the kind of person who'd do anything to reduce your work, and try his best to keep you stress-free and happy.

Sam likes to talk to you. He's always trying to make you laugh, and he bear it when you, the love of his life, is sad. He'll do anything to make you happy.

You have your highs and lows, and each time, he's there to support you.

Sam's great at giving a pep talk, since he was like a counselor to war veterans. But for you, he adds personal touch, and gives you real, useful advices instead of painting pictures in thin air.

You two watch a lot of movies together, and Sam spends a large time explaining to you how unrealistic the action scenes are. You bite your tongue every time and try not to remind him of the fact that he's an Avenger, and fights like that too.

People try to tell you that you can do better than Sam, or in exact words, 'why Sam Wilson? why didn't you go for Captain America or his hot friend?'. You get tired of telling people that it's Sam you love, and you don't have eyes for anyone else.

Sometimes, when Sam hears this, he gets upset. A part of him believes that you deserve far more than what he has to offer, but you dismiss his doubts by saying that it's him you love and him you want.

Your boyfriend is a hero not only for millions, but also for you. But his hero is you, his beloved partner.

Masterlist

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: menstruation, swearing, reader is in pain

I sat down next to Steve with a wince. He looked over at me, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched up. He moved his arm so I could curl up against him.

“you alright?” He asked. I shrugged. “That’s a no. I thought you were taking pain killers for your cramps. What happened?”

“I missed the time window.” I groaned, wrapping my arms around my abdomen. “If I want to take some before bed, I had to take them a couple hours ago. I forgot. Well more like I miscalculated.” Steve rubbed my arm as I winced again. “So now I have to suffer until I go to bed. But I’m fine. Not the first time won’t be the last.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile but it came out more like a wince.

“you mean you’ve done this before?” He asked, eyebrows going up. I nodded. “What the fuck (Y/N)?”

“language.” It was a knee jerk reaction at this point. Steve rolled his eyes. “You know I’m forgetful and bad at math. It’s just bound to happen.”

“how much pain are you in right now?” Steve asked, moving to lay down on the couch. I shrugged.

“on my pain scale or a normal persons?” I asked as he drew me into his arms. I laid down on his chest and shifted to put pressure where I needed it most.

“your pain scale.” Steve sighed. “I’ve figured it out by now.” I shrugged and pressed my face to his shoulder.

“just making sure.” I muttered. Silence enveloped us.

“(Y/N), pain level.” Steve reminded me.

“about at 7?” I said. Steve looked down at me with concern. “Honestly it’s not the worst it’s ever been. Least I don’t feel nauseous this time. Or like I’m going to pass out from the pain.”

“why the hell don’t they tell us about this?” Steve muttered.

“well a hundred years ago I doubt they even wanted you to know what a menstrual cycle was.” I teased. “Now they just dont think it’s necessary for men to know let alone understand it.”

“what the fuck?” Steve muttered under his breath. I halfheartedly smacked his chest.

“language.” I said. “Believe me I once asked Tony what he thought a menstrual cycle was and he thought it was some kind of engine part he was missing. But that’s Tony. Clint called it the cycle of death. I don’t know. I guess Laura has threatened him a few times or something.”

“you should ask buck.” Steve suggested. “He had sisters. I’m sure he’ll restore your faith in the opposite sex.” I laughed.

“sure. I’ll ask him.” I closed my eyes and breathed out as a cramp rolled through me. “I even asked fury.”

“Oh I’m sure he had a good answer.” Steve laughed.

“he said it was the time of the month you left women alone.” I said. Steve hummed and rubbed my back.

“I mean some women yeah. Wanda scares me on hers. Pepper disappears apparently. Tony says she always books a week off every month and just takes it when she starts.” Steve said. “But you want me close by. So that’s where I am. Once a month. Every month.” I nodded against Steve’s chest.

“yep.” I agreed. “I like my cuddle buddy.” Steve laughed as I started to drift off. He pressed a kiss to my head before turning on the tv for background noise.

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

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

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

word count: 2.66k

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

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

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

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

Last Thursday.

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

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

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

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

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hi stranger.

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

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

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

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

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

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

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

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

She makes sense.

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

If anything, he doesn’t make sense. 

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

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

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

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement. 

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

Steve bites a laugh back. 

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

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

“Tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

You okay? Did you hear that?

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

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

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

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

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

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

No big deal. Get home safe.

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

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

His phone dies silently in his hand. 

[cevansbrat0007]

Make Me Series Masterlist

Summary: Feeling bratty, you decide to test your man's patience. Too bad it's looking like your mouth just wrote a check that your ass can't cash.

Warnings: Daddy!Kink, Smut, Brat!Reader, Some DubCon, Degradation, Ass Play, Spanking (With Implements), Butt Plugs, Manhandling, Light Bondage, Minor Chase Kink, Games, Cursing, Minors DNI

Notes: The following is the first bit of Fanfiction I ever wrote for Tumblr. Although I've recently made a few minor edits, I am no longer currently writing Chris Evans RPF. Please heed the warnings and let me know what you think. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. ___

Make Me: Part One - Always give Daddy what he wants.

Make Me: Part Two - You disobeyed Daddy. Now it's time to run.

Make Me: Part Three - Daddy wants to know if you’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl. 

Cereal Brats: A Make Me Series Drabble - You decide to test your Daddy's patience while out grocery shopping.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Fix Your Shoelaces

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Two simple pleasures in life include sleep and chocolate milk. You just never thought they’d both be ruined in one weekend.

Word count: 3,862

Content/warnings: Swears, curdled milk, riding a horse, alcohol consumption, suspicion, dancing

Author’s Note: This takes place at the same time as chapters 5 and 6 of YCMBWH.

This is the first installment of The Rainmaker storyline in the Outta Nowhere AU. This is also a very different environment from where we will usually see this pairing, but that’s the fun in it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Outta Nowhere AU | Series Masterlist | Next >

You were awoken from your deep sleep to someone pounding on your door. As you put on your robe and shuffled through the living room, you caught a glance at the clock on the stove. 10:43pm. Who in their right mind would be at your door this late? A better question: why were you on your way to answer it? You didn’t even answer calls from unknown numbers.

You opened the door and immediately squinted at the bright fluorescent light of the hallway as it hit you in the face. Standing there in a full suit was a man with tall, broad shoulders and kind blue eyes under a tuft of blonde hair you assumed had lost its styling from a long day. If you asked your best friend, her evaluation would be ‘totally your type.’ He was a gorgeous, pretty boy….yeah….pretty seemed like a fitting description. Good looks or not, though, he woke you up hardly two hours into your sleep schedule.

“What do you want?”

“Um, good evening. You’re…” he looked down at a sticky note in his hand. “…Decks, right? I’m here to talk to you about a matter concerning Honeybee-I mean-“

You cut him off, grabbing his arm to drag the handsome man into your apartment and out of the hallway so you wouldn’t get another noise complaint from the old lady next door. Although, it was probably already too late for that since he had been banging on your door for who knows how long. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. I know what you’re talking about, come in.”

Steve gently closed the door behind him as you moved to turn on a lamp by the couch. You flopped down in an arm chair while he perched himself on the couch cushion closest to you. Even with your messy hair in the dim light, there was something intriguing about you to him.

You leaned back and squinted at him. “So what’s going on? Are you Bucket? I’ve been told about you.”

Steve straightened in his seat. Bucky was going to love that he was the topic of one of Bee’s conversations outside the farm.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, actually. I’m Steve. I work very closely with Bucky, though. I was sent here to take you over to the farm. There’s been an emergency and we need all the closest people there to help out.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Why didn’t anyone call first? Why were you sent here?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you probably wouldn’t have picked up if I called, and time is of the essence. I can explain more on the way there.” He shrugged.

You looked at him with confusion. “Listen, I love my friend and all, and I’m willing to be there for her, but I’ve got work tomorrow. What am I supposed to do about that?”

Steve waved his hand and closed his eyes in reassurance before speaking softly. “It’s already been taken care of. Just, if you could go ahead and pack a bag, grab only essentials because we need to get going.”

You groaned. At least you’d heard of Steve before, your bestie had described him as pretty decent, and you hated that she was right, in more ways than one. You grabbed a bag off the back of your door and tossed it at Steve. “Okay, fine. Pack some snacks, it’s a long way to go at this time of night.”

He simply nodded and walked to your pantry, packing up everything that could easily be eaten on the road, along with a few bottles of water.

You emerged from your room with a duffel on your shoulder to see him waiting for you on the couch, food bag in his lap.

When Steve saw you, he was captivated. You’d changed into an old college sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair in a messy bun, but your face looked like it was ready to take on the world, despite the premature rise from sleep.

He got up and followed you to the door, turning off the lamp on the way over. As you locked your apartment, you whispered over to him. “What did you bring here? Let me see your keys.”

Steve dug into his pocket, pulling out the keychain with a jingle. “Range Rover.”

You grabbed them out of his hands. “Perfect. I’m driving.”

It had been awhile since you’d been all the way out to the farm. You used to come and help out over the summers during college, mostly baling hay and feeding animals. It was fun, but it wasn’t your life. Your degree and passion had drawn you to the city and kept you there for all these years.

You explained that to Steve on the drive over, in between the times you made him feed you the snacks. You noted that you were proud you could still drive this route by heart, too. Steve told you a little bit about how he did business in the city and how he knew Bucky, along with a story about why Bucky was out here in the first place. You had already heard the story from your roommate, so it wasn’t a surprise, but you were confused as to why they hadn’t called some sort of law enforcement to help. Something didn’t quite add up, but if someone you trusted so much trusted these men, that was good enough for now.

As you were nearing the end of the drive, Steve continued in his attempts to make conversation. “So how did you get the nickname ‘Decks?’”

You laughed dryly. “It’s a-“ you cut yourself off. “Hold on, I need to make sure I make this turn. It’s kind of hard to see at this time of night.”

You heard the wheels hit gravel as you pulled into the driveway and in front of the house, the headlights briefly lighting up Curtis leading a couple horses and tying their reins to the posts of the front porch in the darkness of the moonlit night.

Your eyes adjusted as you moved to get out of the car and watched Curtis jog over to the passenger side of the vehicle where Steve had just stood up, sticking out his hand.

“Hey, I’m Curtis, you must be Steve. Buck hasn’t left her side yet, so I’m gonna take you on back.”

Steve shook his hand “Yeah, good to meet you.”

Curtis gave him a slight nod and patted his shoulder, then ran around the other side of the vehicle to greet you by the driver’s side door. He reached his arms around your shoulders to give you a big hug with a tight squeeze. “Good to see you, Decks.”

“Yeah, you too, Curtis. Steve told me what’s going on. We should probably get back there.”

You rubbed his back before Curtis freed you from the hug and nodded in response, then looked back at Steve.

“You know how to ride?”

Steve couldn’t help the scoff that came from his lips. “Not one bit.”

Curtis sighed and looked between the two of you. “Okay, no worries. You’re with Decks, then. I’ll help you up. We’ll talk over all the details on the way there.”

Curtis led you over to the porch and helped you up onto the bigger of the two horses, then helped to prop Steve up behind you before getting onto his own horse and leading you toward the mines.

As your hips swayed back and forth with the horse’s footsteps, you could feel Steve clinging onto you for dear life. “You can ease up your grip a little, ya know. We’re not even going that fast. And you’re like, five feet off the ground. I promise you won’t get hurt.”

You could feel Steve nod in acknowledgment, his head resting against your shoulder, but nothing changed. If anything, his hold tightened. You laughed through the vice of his arms that was squeezing your diaphragm and continued on to the caves in the distance.

“So Steve told me one of the caves collapsed, and I’m not surprised because I know how old these things are, but why were you guys even back there? How did it fall so suddenly?”

You looked over at Curtis and he met your eye. “I want so badly to say it’s Bucket’s fault, but I know it’s really not. Your dear bestie insisted we go for a walk to show him the mines, and when he kicked one of the supports, the whole thing came crashing down. Could’ve happened to anyone at any time, though.”

You nodded. “Well, I’m glad she’s okay at least, but being trapped in there must suck. Either way, we’re happy to help with whatever’s needed.” Steve hummed against your shoulder in agreement.

You stopped the horses at the mouth of the cave and yawned from the early hour, stretching as Curtis helped Steve, then you, down from the horse. A man with brown hair and broad shoulders sauntered over to the three of you, greeting Steve with a hug and you and Curtis with a handshake. He wore a hard look on his face, but you could see the lace of concern through his forehead and eyes. Ah, this was Bucket.

“I’d take you guys in, but it’s sort of unstable right now. I’ve got direct orders from Honeybee, though, as to what we’re all supposed to do.”

He went through the plan, but in your tiredness, you barely caught his words. “I’ll go back over it in the morning, but the general gist is that we need to keep everything running smoothly and draw as little suspicion as possible.”

You looked between the men. None of them had caught on to one important detail. “I’ve still got Steve’s keys, but Buck, you’ve gotta tell your guys to move their cars, then. I’ve never seen that many in the driveway. People will notice. Move them into the hay barn. It should be empty enough this time of year before the next round of bales gets made. Can probably fit most of them.”

You all looked at Curtis and he nodded in agreement. “Yep, just as she said.” Bucky snapped his fingers and a young kid in a suit came running over to him, ready to take the command. What an odd interaction. You shrugged it off, though. Your brain hardly had any power at this point. It was just enough to ride back to the house and move the Range Rover into the pool barn behind the garage before flopping down into one of the guest bedrooms.

You woke up with a jolt to one of the roosters crowing. You forgot how loud those little bastards were, but something about it was comforting. You got dressed and brushed your teeth before making sure your hair was out of your face. You could smell breakfast and followed Curtis down the stairs to see Bucky making plates already.

That was surprising. As far as you knew from your conversation last week, he was struggling to get out of bed, and now he was up early enough to gather eggs and cook for everyone? Weird.

The steps creaked behind you as Steve matched them with his own groan, flopping into a chair. He wore a set of farm clothes you believe he’d borrowed from Curtis and his hair was a floofy mess. It was kind of cute, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the casual wear in juxtaposition to his suit from the night before.

Bucky pulled out a sheet of paper and explained your tasks again. You were so excited to be put on animal feed duty. You loved petting the little goats and sheep, they were so adorable.

As Bucky explained Steve’s tasks to him, you watched an almost unreadable expression grow on his face. He looked almost scared, daunted, intimidated? Maybe it was just dread? Eh, he’d probably be fine.

You finished up your plate and set it in the dishwasher before getting on with your day.

At mid-morning, you rolled up to the farmers market to help run sales with Bucky. You caught the sight of Steve carrying in his last wagon load of produce crates. His biceps bulged as he placed them all in the right places, and you couldn’t help but drool a little. Not only did he look good while being put to work, but he didn’t complain while doing it. Sure, you knew Bucky was technically his boss, but something about his willingness to help out did you in. Made you feel warm.

You watched as Bucky gave him a final set of instructions, and Steve walked back into the field. Man, did his ass look good in those jeans.

Hours passed by running the market with Bucky. You could see that a few repeat customers were happy to see him, some even trying to go in for hugs and offer him free drinks. You could see the charm you’d been told about.

As things began to slow, you found yourself standing next to Bucky, the both of you watching an older customer leave with some produce and a small jar of honey.

“Mrs. Jensen is definitely a talker. I think she needs someone else around.” He leaned towards you to say it lowly.

You laughed in response. He demeanor now was the same as when he was dealing with her, but somehow she was still so happy with their interaction.

Bucky continued. “Maybe I’ll let Jake see his mom later if he’s good.”

That caught your attention. “Wait, Jake is here? Why? Like, the Jake that broke my best friend’s heart? I thought they haven’t talked since before college.”

You could see Bucky trying to avoid eye contact with you. He was hiding something. Why would Jake be here?

“He’s done a lot lately that has made business difficult for both me and Bee. Since we are business partners after all. My people reached out and he came to apologize. Also happens he’s able to run some pretty complex calculations on his computer. He was more than happy to help out down at the mine when he heard she was in danger.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Okay…”

After you and Bucky had finished cleaning up the farmers market, you headed back to the house to relax some. You slipped off your boots and laid down on the couch, pulling a blanket up to your chin.

You were shaken awake and opened your eyes to see a pair of blue ones before you. It was Steve. He smiled.

“Hey, Decks. It’s time for dinner. You want some?” You nodded, stretching to sit up, seeing Curtis and his cousin, your best friend, bringing food to the table. You scrambled to toss the blanket off of you and ran over. You’d never hugged her so tight.

“You’re not dead! I’m so happy to see you.” Was muffled into her hair.

She laughed and rubbed your back. “It’s good to see you, too, Decks. Now let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

You nodded your head, still not letting go, as she waddled you to your chair next to Steve. He looked at the two of you, noticing you felt for each other the same way he felt for Bucky. There was a deep trust and appreciation that could rarely be matched.

As you were eating, you hardly realized Bucky wasn’t at the table until it was brought up in conversation. After a long day, and frankly, a long week, you all went upstairs and straight to bed.

You woke up to the sunshine, somehow sleeping through the roosters, probably from sheer exhaustion, and changed into your college hoodie and sweats. You walked downstairs to search through the fridge and find something decent to eat. As you were making toast, Steve came down and pulled out the pitcher of milk along with chocolate syrup.

“Ooh! Can you make me one, too? It’s been forever since I’ve had chocolate milk.”

He leaned up into the cabinet above you, abs brushing your back to grab another glass. You shivered slightly at the touch. You weren’t around people much, let alone people who looked like that.

“Sure thing, Decks, as long as you promise to make me toast.”

Your eyes narrowed, looking at him for a second. “Deal.”

After eating, you sat on the couch with Steve, sipping your chocolate milk and making small talk. He stayed vague about his everyday business dealings, and you felt like you didn’t have much to add since a lot of your work was confidential, and you didn’t have much time to do things outside of it.

You watched Bucky run down the steps and peek his head in the office before closing the door behind him.

You were about to offer to play a card game to pass the time with Steve since Curtis was due to be done any minute and could join, but there was a knock on the door.

You opened it up to see a ridiculously large vase of hydrangeas and a delivery driver already retreating back up the driveway. Oh great, what sorry guy sent these? She’s gonna hate them.

You picked up the vase to bring it inside, not expecting the sour smell that came off of it. You held it at arm’s length, fast walking to the office before knocking on the door with your foot. You held the vase in one arm to quickly open the door, showing the flowerpot, your face blocked by the large bouquet.

“Ugh! Decks, get that out of here. Where the hell did those come from?”

You ran back towards the front door, where Steve was holding it open, to set them on the porch. “Just got delivered. Don’t worry, I’ve smelled worse. There’s a card here.”

It’s true, you had smelled worse at work before, but it still didn’t mean it was very tolerable after some time. Everyone else stood back, hands covering their airways as you plucked the small piece of paper from the petals and read it out loud.

“Peach, can’t wait to milk our deal together. -Cole”

Everyone exchanged glances, disgusted by the weirdly suggestive statement, as you pulled the hydrangeas out of the vase and tossed them into the yard. You peered into the vase and gave it a sniff. In the bottom was a white goop, which you assumed had once been a liquid before a chemical reaction took place.

“He put the flowers in milk…and,” you sniffed again, “lemon juice?”

You fought a gag while you carried the vase out into the yard and did your best to get all the chunks out of it, eventually opting to spray it out with the garden hose. It still was a nice vase.

In your attempts to clean it, though, you knew some of the spoiled milk had splattered back on you and you’d need to get it off as soon as possible. So much for enjoying chocolate milk with Steve, because you were going to remember that smell for months.

You turned off the hose and grabbed the vase, stomping back into the house and slipping off your shoes.

Now frustrated with the situation, even though the mess was partially your fault, you were done. Most of it was probably due to the fact you couldn’t finish sipping the delicious beverage Steve had made for you. You shoved the vase into Steve’s chest and he cradled it with an oof.

“Finish cleaning that. And dump out my glass. I won’t be able to drink milk again for months.” You grumbled, moving towards the steps.

“Where are you going?” You heard behind you.

“To take a shower.” Your head whipped back around.

You continued to stomp up the stairs before gesturing aggressively with your arms above your head. “WHY DO GUYS ALWAYS SEND YOU WEIRD SHIT LIKE THAT!?”

You could hear Steve as you reached the bathroom. “I think I’m gonna need a shower, too, after this.”

Steve and Curtis chatted while they waited for you. “So like, what’s the deal with the trucks?”

Curtis shrugged as he opened the back door for Steve to get in, seeing you coming from the house. “Good for hauling stuff. You’re not gonna see many people out here without trucks, so it’s a good thing your fancy SUV is hidden away.”

Steve nodded, thankful you were on your way to end his awkward conversation-making skills that were not working very well on Curtis. Well, either that, or Curtis wasn’t very talkative, however, he never saw that same issue when you were around.

After a nice long, hot shower to remove the scent, you were relaxed and ready to go. Steve could smell your perfume, causing him to smile to himself.

Curtis opened the passenger door for you to hop in, and the two of you talked in the front seat on the way over as Steve sat in the back, watching and listening.

After spending hours at the bar, you were standing near the edge of the dance floor, chatting with Bee.

“So what do you think of him?” She tilted her head to gesture toward the blonde, wearing a hat that looked entirely too good on him.

You thought for a second before answering. “He’s a charmer, alright, in a really weird, awkward way. Kinda reserved, but very helpful. I respect it.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” She nudged your shoulder with her own.

“Well hold your horses, there, Honeybee. Some of us need a little more time to see what’s going on under the surface. Not everyone seems to fold so fast like your tall, dark, and handsome Bucket. Steve’s got something to him I just can’t figure out.”

“You will. I’m sure of it. That’s why you’ve got your job and I’ve got mine. You’re meant to be a scientist. An investigator.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The music began to blare up above your conversation. Well, that’s a familiar tune.

“Oh! You love this one! You remember the dance I showed you in college? I think you’ve got some new guests to teach!”

You looked over to the pool tables to be greeted by Steve’s gaze directed right back at you with a dopey grin. Must be the alcohol, you thought to yourself. Bee had already left your side to go get Bucky.

“Do you want to dance?” You mouthed to him across the bar. He shrugged and mouthed back “I don’t know how.”

You gestured your arm for him to come towards you “I’ll teach you. Come on.”

Steve set down his cue and made his way through the crowd, only able to see your hat through the sea of people. He crouched down to reach your ear so you could hear him in the loud bar. “Don’t make fun of me if it’s bad.”

You laughed and shook your head at him as you set him up to stand in front of you. “No promises,” you yelled back.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Thank you for reading! Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are soooo appreciated.

What do you guys think of Decks? I love imagining her take the vase out to the yard, so fed up with the shenanigans that always happen around Bee.

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 2

Wine and Dine

Series masterlist

Previous part: Love You More Next part: Expendable

Word Count: 6,169

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve wasn't quite sure he had ever ran so fast in his entire life. Wearing a heather grey henley, jeans, and some nice shoes, he knew he probably looked ridiculous as he zoomed by people in the hallways like a gust of wind.

After being deployed on the emergency mission for almost 3 weeks now, you were just about to land at the compound. From what he understood from the gossip floating around the compound, and confirming by the report notifications that popped up in the corner of his computer, it was a really bad one.

Agents were dropping like flies, if felt like every few hours one was being sent back to the compound due to injury or a psychological break. He tried multiple times to get the Avengers on the mission to help clear it out faster, it was obviously way too big for the agents to be handling alone.

Every time he tried, Fury shot him down because there already was an avenger on the mission. Though he agreed and trusted whole heartedly that you could handle it, he knew that if he was in your position, single handedly being the only reason why anything was actually getting done under exhaustive conditions, he'd appreciate another member of his team being sent to him

Not even a full minute ago you had called him in hysterics. He could barely understand you through your cries but he could tell just by the sounds slipping past your throat that you were in unbearable pain. It made his heart pound out of his chest as he tried to console you to the point of being able to understand what had happened.

When Commander Bennet realized that the wind had been knocked out of you, he gently grabbed the phone from your hands and spoke to Steve.

"Captain Rogers?" He quested after reading 'Steve' at the top of your phone screen.

"Yeah, hi, what's going on?" Steve asked frantically.

"Agent 306 is not in good shape. We had some sort of biological weapon hit us hard. It was a pale blue, powdery substance that was causing extreme irritation and almost burn like reaction on any exposed skin it touched." Bennett explained.

"But her tact suit covers most of her skin-" Steve vocalized his thoughts.

"She tried to stop the attack before it got worse, jumped on the attacker's back to yank the weapon out of his hand but..." He sighed. "Agent 212..."

"What did Harvey do?" Steve started seething.

"To put it simply, 212 got in her way. She had it and was about to put the whole mission to an end. I'm not sure if he thought he was going to beat her to it or if he wanted to help, but he threw her off and crashed right into her. The attacker grabbed hold of the collar of her tact suit from the back of her neck and poured a pretty large amount of the powder all the way down her back."

"Oh man, how bad is it?" Steve got up, already knowing where this was leading.

"She's in excruciating pain." He put simply. "We have lab techs on board studying the substance. They said that the effects are only extreme irritation, burns, and stinging pain for upwards of 5 hours. We already informed medical, they said there's not much they can do other than shower her and try to manage the pain with ibuprofen. She said she'd rather just do that at home, and she's asking for you now. Any way you could meet us on the runway?"

"Absolutely, what's the ETA?" Steve asked, walking down the hall towards the Jet landing runway.

"Touch down in a minute-thirty."

"I'll be there." Steve said simply before hanging up.

From where he was in the building, he knew making it to the runway was a five minute walk, so he made it a one minute and thirty second run instead.

He pushed through the doors to get outside onto the runway just as the jet wheels had touched down on the tarmac. The second it stopped moving, he practically ripped the door open with his own two hands and waited very impatiently for the rush of agents disembarking before he could get to you.

Harvey didn't get a chance to pass by Steve without receiving a glare from the soldier that sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

The very second he could, Steve rushed onto the Jet and you were curled up on the floor with your knees to your chest and your face digging into your knee caps. Commander Bennett was at your side trying to comfort you, but you were rocking back and forth to try and manage the pain, and doing your best to muffle your sobs as to not further inconvenience any of the other agents who had to hear you whaling the entire flight home.

Steve sank onto his knees right next to you, and placed a hand on you arm.

"You got it from here, Captain?" Bennett asked.

"Of course." Steve nodded, understanding he had more work to be done.

"Report back to me when you can?" Steve could see the worry in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Your commander got up and off the Jet following the other agents, and Steve's heart was still uncomfortably racing around in his chest.

"Hey, Bug." Steve gently squeezed your arm to try and get you to uncurl from your tiny little ball.

"M'sorry to bother you" You cried while lifting your head. Talking through the pain and shortness of air in your lungs was a struggle, but you took a moment and tried your hardest. "It hurts so bad, didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, you're not a bother to me." He shook his head and got a good look at you.

Your tact suit was covered in smoke and ash, as well as your face. There was a deep scratch along your left cheek bone accompanied by smeared blood, presumably your own, and you jawline on the right side was bruised.

Steve's pounding heart came to a stand still before completely melting into a puddle when you let your forehead fall onto his collarbone. Instinctively, his hand gently cradled the back of your head.

Immediately, you felt safer and calmer in his hold. Letting someone take over your well-being when you had no control was terrifying, but Steve earned your trust more than anyone else in your life ever did. Around him, you knew everything would be okay regardless of the circumstances.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He questioned calmly.

"Feels like I ca-can't breathe" You hiccuped.

"I know, I'm sorry." Steve pouted. "Having the wind knocked out of you is normal sometimes when you're in that much pain. It's one of the worst feelings in the world but it'll go away. Just keep taking big deep breaths, it'll start to fade."

"S...still powder in my suit." You warned him. "Careful."

"Okay, we should get it off of you as soon as we can then." He thought out loud knowing that as long as it was still making contact with your skin, you would never start to feel better. "I'm going to get you out of here and up to your apartment okay?"

"Hurts so bad- feel like I can't move." You explained the best you could, internally panicking.

"Can I carry you?" Steve questioned, wanting to make sure he had your permission.

"What if it gets on you?" You questioned, not wanting him to feel the same pain you were in.

"I'm wearing long sleeves and long pants, it'll be okay." He reassured you. "I don't want to hurt your back even more, so wrap your arms around my neck and I'll hold onto the bottom of your legs."

You were happy to wrap your arms gently around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he carefully lifted you up. Without as much as a second thought, you nestled your face into the crook of his neck and continued to let the presence of your best friend comfort you while you focused on trying to catch your breath.

Steve was so focused on his personal mission to make you feel better that he didn't let his mind even entertain his personal feelings for you anymore. Meanwhile, you had an opposite technique to reign in some pain management. Steve smelled so good that the deep breathing with your face shoved into his neck was now a pleasant experience, and momentarily took your mind off the unbearable pain you were in.

Unfortunately his incredible taste in cologne wasn't enough to completely stop your mental and physical pain by the time he got you into your apartment and gently set you down on your own two feet. He offered you his forearm to keep a hold on to steady yourself, he could tell your muscles were overworked, exhausted, and tightly tense.

Steve could feel the hand you kept hold of him with was shaking, as were your legs, and chattering jaw that you tried your hardest to clench shut.

Single handedly, he worked diligently to remove your personal defense weapons that lived in your leg holsters. Grabbing the gun and dagger, he reached behind him and quickly put them in the weapon safe by the door.

Then he led you to the couch and had you sit down, helping you on the way down. He quickly sank to his knees and his fingers untied the laces on your boots and pulled them off your feet before he got to work on removing all the black leather straps and buckles of the holsters on your legs.

He looked up at you momentarily just to make sure you didn't seem uncomfortable by how he was touching you, but your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly and your mind was so far away it felt like you weren't even in the room with him anymore.

"Relax your jaw, Buggy." Steve caught your attention with a small squeeze to your calf before going at the holster on your thigh.

"But it's chattering" You cried, relaxing it to prove it was rattling.

"That's okay, just let it happen." He reassured you.

You nodded, eyes still squeezed shut with occasional tears slipping past them.

"Let all your muscles relax, keep taking big breaths." His sweet voice guided you, moving on from your left leg to your right. "Remember that this pain is temporary, this is the worst of it right now and you're taking it like a champ. You're doing a good job."

Letting your eyes open, you watched him shove his phone between his shoulder and head, freeing both his hands to continue removing pieces of your suit. Then he started talking, throwing around commands, asking for necessary assistance to make sure your suit is properly cleaned and the hazardous substance would be responsibly handled.

At some point, your eyes closed again and you started feeling faint. He stood up, still on the phone and walked away for a moment then came back with a glass of water for you in one hand, and medicine in the other hoping it could at least help jumpstart the pain management.

Then, you heard something that made your eyes rip open.

"Hey Buck, yeah she's okay - in a lot of pain but she's going to be fine. Hey- can you do me a favor? Can you go into my apartment and grab me a change of clothes? Just a shirt and some sweatpants please? Thank you so much, I'll leave the door unlocked for you. See you soon."

You took in his appearance and realized you had completely destroyed his outfit. Smoke and soot had smeared all over his light grey shirt and the the top of his jeans. There was blood on his shoulder from your face, and wet spots from your tears.

"I'm so sorry." You cried, genuinely feeling bad about it. "I ruined your clothes!"

"I'm not worried about it" He denied your apology. "You're more important than a shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one." You shook your head.

"You have bigger fish to fry at the moment, Bug." Steve said sweetly. "Let's get you in the shower now. The faster this gets washed off of you the better."

Deep down Steve was really concerned about you, but he internalized it as to not freak you out. You seemed weak and unsteady on your own two feet, and your cries were still sad enough to make him want to cry for you.

"Help me up?" You asked, holding out your hands.

He took them without question and helped you off the couch before guiding you to the bathroom and starting the shower for you. Making sure it was not too cold to be uncomfortable, but not too hot to hurt your burns even more, he finally settled on the perfect temperature.

When Steve turned back around to let you know it was good to go, he was going to walk right out and let you shower in peace. That was until you started crying even harder just by trying to unbutton your pants. Every move you made was increasingly uncomfortable, and in that moment you both knew that showering alone wasn't an option.

The hot shocking pain and trauma of the three week long mission alone made letting Steve see you naked feel like just another drop in the bucket. You couldn't even get yourself to pretend to care, all of the insecurities and fears you'd typically have over this flew out of the window when you could see the genuine worry in his sweet blue eyes.

"Do you need help?"

"Can you please stay?"

Both of you asked almost shyly at the same time.

"Yes please."

"Of course"

You talked over each other once again.

Everything you could've possibly been worried about wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind when you asked him to stay. Although his heart warmed over the sentiment that you felt comfortable enough around him to ask in the first place, he wanted to make sure he maintained that same level of trust.

So he took the same approach he took before any training session he knew you were scared of, or any time he had to touch your body.

A simple one word question that he always expected a completely honest response to, it always went a long way.

So before he even helped you begin undressing, he asked it.

"Trust?" He questioned.

Whenever he asked you this, he wanted a percentage out of 100 to gauge how much trust you felt for him in that very moment. Whether he was about to catch you from two stories high, or send you off to do something new, he wanted to make sure you were confident enough in him as your partner. If you ever answered below a 90, that's when he would put a stop to everything and the two of your would talk it through until you felt comfortable and confident enough to execute the plan.

"100" you answered without question, your shaky hands trying their hardest to unzip your shirt.

Only after you responded did he start to undress you. His hands took over the zipper, and swiped it downward. When he helped you tug off the sleeves he was careful to not touch the inside of your suit to not get any of the substance on himself, but once your top was off, he could tell it was all caked onto your skin and no longer dry. "If that changes or you want me to leave at any point, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded, feeling a slight relief as the cold air hit your back.

Piece by piece, he helped you get undressed and into the shower. He stood next to you the whole time, and as the water washed off the dirt and grime, he could see the extent of the damage on your back and he internally cringed.

"You poor thing, this looks so painful." Steve pouted. Though you were quite literally fully naked in front of him, he couldn't stop staring at the plane of your back. It was fire engine red, and your skin was definitely angry at the substance.

"Fury is going to be so mad at me." You sniffled, starting to feel like you could talk in complete sentences again.

"Why?" Steve asked, head tilting slightly.

"I should be at the mission debriefing." You explained.

"You we're injured, there are exceptions." Steve denied. "You know who Fury will actually be mad at? Harvey."

Just the mention of his name had your cry growing sadder by the moment. "Can I tell you something as a friend and not as a boss?"

Steve's face softened, and he nodded.

"He did it on purpose." You claimed with confidence as your fingers scrubbed shampoo into your hair. "The whole mission Harv and his friends were doing things to sabotage me and I kept getting hurt. I felt like I was going crazy, and it was already a really bad mission to be on in the first place. I feel so defeated and defenseless right now."

When you admitted that, his eyes went from your back to a big, black and blue bruise the side of his palm right on your rib cage.

"Harvey will be dealt with whether he did it on purpose or accident. He made a really stupid choice that obstructed the mission and got another agent hurt, the best agent we got." Steve explained. "They'll probably open an investigation and pull any footage they have and talk to some other witnesses to get their side of the story. If it's ruled that it was on purpose his punishment will be much worse than if it was an accident."

"They're just going to come after me even harder." You cried. "I don't know what I did so wrong that they decided that they needed to make my life a living hell. I try to be nice to everyone, I participate when I need to, I help them when they need help, and I even do the dirty work so nobody else has to. Everyone still hates me. Nobody cares if I get hurt."

Steve's broken heart impossibly shattered again. "Do you believe us when we tell you it's jealousy? The men here have tiny little ego's. They're fragile and insecure so when they see how great you are, they just want to knock you down any chance they get. It's not your fault."

"I don't feel like I'm the best one here." You finally denied in a moment of vulnerable weakness. You we're already naked, what damage could admitting your true feelings possibly do? "I don't even feel like I'm good at what I do in general."

"You may feel like that right now, but that's not fact. It's far from the truth." Steve denied your accusations against yourself. "You're meant to be an Avenger, we're all confident in that. That mission should've never been delegated to you guys. It should've gone to the Avengers, and even then it would've been hard for us. But I was watching the updates and statistics come through while you were gone. You single handedly held the operation together and led it to success with nothing but your own guidance. You're incredible, you even outperformed the Avengers."

You shook your head in denial before tipping it back and letting the water wash away the soapy lather in your beautiful silky hair. "I should be debriefing but instead I'm crying in the shower I can't even take by myself without being a hazard."

"They have tormented you so much that you believe crying is a sign of weakness." Undertones of disapproval soaked through his tone. "Their words have you believing that you're not good enough for this, yet I don't see any of them being good enough to do half of what you do."

"I don't know how to get it to stop." You sniffled. "If I don't fight back, they keep going. If I do fight back, they come at me twice as hard. If you don't say anything, they think it's okay. If you do yell at them, it just gets worse."

"Join the team." Steve stated simply, reaching out into the shower to swipe some smoke off your face that you missed.

"I'm tired, Stevie." You admitted with a sad cry. "Right now, I don't even know how I'm going to wake up and get myself to work as an agent tomorrow. I don't know how I can do this anymore, let alone be an Avenger."

"Exactly, you're tired and you're hurting." Steve validated. "Emotionally and physically, you're a human with with needs, none of which have been met in a very long time. You had your heart broken, and with no time to recover you had tosee Harvey every day for three weeks, then he hurt you even more. We'll get you some rest, some food, you'll get some time off work to make sure you heal up and recover. I promise you that you'll feel better."

"I sure hope so." You sniffled, washing the rest of the soap off now that you were squeaky clean. "Because right now, my heart is heavy and i feel defeated."

"Then let's take baby steps towards making you feel better, we'll start by making the heaviness a lot lighter." Steve offered you a hand to help you step out of the shower as you turned the water off. A hint of a smile poked through your pouted lips as he wrapped your fluffy towel around your body as carefully as he could as to not hurt your back anymore than it already did.

"Do you have to go back to work?" You asked sadly, not wanting to have to let go of the comfort he always provided you. "I really missed you while I was away."

"It's okay, I'll take the rest of the day off." Steve denied. "I missed you too, I was worried about you."

There was a small knock on the door before Bucky came in, and before either of you could even acknowledge his presence, both of your feet carried you towards him.

Bucky quickly handed Steve the clothes he brought for him, then all his attention was on you.

"Stay with her for a minute, I'm going to change really fast." Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulder out of gratitude.

You we're still slowly crying from the pain, and wrapped up in the towel like a little human burrito.

No words needed to be exchanged between you and your friend and he very carefully pulled you against his warm body for a long hug.

After Steve changed into the clothes Bucky brought him and walked back out into the living room to the scene of you being comfortably wrapped up in his arms as the two of you exchanged quiet words he could barely hear, he couldn't help the tiny pang of jealousy. He felt like a teenage boy who had no control over his emotions. He knew it was wrong, so he pushed it down just like he did all his other feelings towards you.

When Bucky noticed Steve was back, he mumbled an apology to you about needing to get back to work, and promised he would come by later to check up on you. And just as fast as he arrived, he left.

Steve helped you get dressed again, which was a struggle. But the two of you worked together to find a loose enough shirt to put on as to not hurt your back, super soft shorts, and definitely no bra to dig into your skin. But he already saw your boobs so there was no harm in that decision.

By the time you climbed into your own bed for the first time in weeks, and Steve got in next to you, a bit of relief washed over you. The tears came to an end and now you were nothing but stray sniffles and a little ball of frustration as you tried your hardest to get comfortable without laying on your back.

Steve wasn't quite sure how it happened, but you ended up half on your side-half on your stomach with your head in his lap and one of your legs hiked up. Once you were comfortable, he pulled up the back of your shirt to let the cool air hit the burn and to make sure the fabric wasn't irritating the area even more.

He could tell you were still in pain, so he comforted you by running his fingers through your hair. You soaked up every moment of the pleasant sensation, it gave you something to focus on other than the pain.

Single-handedly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up your profile on the music streaming app you downloaded onto his phone so you could create playlists together and share music. He picked a playlist you curated of all your favorite soothing songs and played it quietly for you.

Steve knew music was important to you, most of the time you had at least one airpod in your ear and you were always showing him new music. He loved listening to the songs you found good enough to share with him, and he loved sharing the experience of listening to music with you all because he knew it made you happy.

"Do you have a comfort movie or show?" Steve asked. "Or anything you do to help you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, I get into your bed." You mumbled out a joke, feeling completely drained. Your eyes didn't need to be open to know he was smiling.

"The faster we can get you to fall asleep, the better." He noted.

"Are you tired of me already?" You questioned, another joke.

"Absolutely not." Steve denied with a giggle. "If you fall asleep, you can get through a big chunk of the pain with no awareness to it."

"I was just on a mission for three weeks barely getting any sleep. Just give me a minute, I'll sleep like the dead."

"Why weren't you getting any sleep?" Steve questioned, continuing to rub your scalp.

"They kept assigning me to sleep next to Harvey no matter how many times I asked them to not do that." You explained. "Completely separate cots and sleeping bags and he still tried to get me to have sex with him every single night we were there. Every time I denied him he'd try to spark an argument then I'd get upset and just lay awake because I couldn't turn my brain off."

"He was trying to sleep with you after a whole day on the battlefield? After he said he could never be with someone like you?" Steve questioned. "Did he not break up with you? Is he not exhausted by the end of the day?"

"You'd think there would be significant logistical issues he would consider before trying to initiate but he didn't let anything get in his way." You agreed with Steve. "I have no plans of ever having sex with him again, and he thinks it's a game. Like I'll crumble and whither away without his dick."

"That sounds like a terrible situation you have to put up with everyday." Steve noted. "If I had to look at any of my ex girlfriends every day at work, let alone be on a mission with them for three weeks I don't think both of us would make it out alive, and they would be the ones surviving every time."

You sleepily giggled at his words. "It is pretty terrible, but I'm hoping he will realize soon that there's better dick to be had elsewhere. I'm horny, but never horny enough to have sex with him ever again."

"Wow, you're so strong." Steve laughed. "That was really philosophical."

"I know right?" Your lazy smile stretched.

"If he's making you lose sleep, that's just more proof he's obstructing agents from reaching the objective." Steve noted.

You hummed in agreement, letting the heaviness in your heart and mind settle and the exhaustion in your body take over.

A few moments of silence passed before Steve broke it, his thoughts becoming too loud to keep to himself. "...I really can't imagine getting it up after a whole 12 hour day of fighting... don't think I could ever do that..."

Your smile reappeared. "That's because you actually do your job and you do it well. Harvey just kind've stands there and pretends to be helping. No person in their right mind would be able to get it up after a real day of battle."

"Wow, so you're finally in the phase of admitting that he's bad at what he does." Steve noted.

"Yeah, well, I'm infuriated that we work ourselves to the point of exhaustion and he's just walking around with the audacity to have a hard dick all the time." You noted. "He deserves a life of erectile disfunction, I deserve the audacity of a post mission stiffy."

"See, this is the kind of fire I've been trying to ignite in you this whole time!" Steve enthused. "Who knew that all it would take was a metaphorical boner?"

"Relax, I'm not hard enough yet to hop over the the Avengers." Your voice was getting raspier and quieter by the second, making Steve melt into a puddle. "Give me a little more time, maybe I'll get there eventually."

"Have you tried viagra?" Steve joked.

"Have you?"

"Is your back feeling any better?"

"Why are you deflecting?" You sleepily smiled.

"Sweet dreams, Bug." He covered your eyes with the palm of his hand. "Hope you feel so much better when you wake up."

You grabbed his wrist and directed his hand to the top of your head before letting it go, and snuggling up in the blankets the very best you could. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Stevie. I love and appreciate you lots."

"Anytime, I love you more."

You dozed off not to long after, and fell into a sleep so deep that you felt like you had woken up in a whole different world. Your phone was ringing, and there was no longer any light seeping through your bedroom window curtains.

Judging by your door being cracked open with lights pouring through and footsteps walking around, you could tell Steve was still in your apartment. Reaching around blindly for your phone, your hand found it and answered the call.

A smile stretched across Steve's face when he heard your sweet, sleepy voice coming from your room. He could tell you were talking to family, so he waited a while until he could hear the conversation wrapping up to come check on you.

It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally came in and turned the light on as he heard some goodbyes.

"I love you so much, Buddy! I'll come see you this week okay? Maybe in a day or two." Your smile was uncontrollable. "No, I cannot bring iron man with me. Am I not cool enough for you anymore?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at you when you looked up at him with a giggle. You motioned for him to stay quiet, then put it on speaker phone.

A tiny little voice came through, and Steve immediately remembered all of the times you told him about your five year old nephew that lived with your sister not too far from the compound.

“What about Captain America?" He questioned.

"I don't know Captain America!" You denied, looking Steve dead in the eye. You laughed as Steve's jaw dropped in response to your antics.

"Yes you do! Mommy showed me a picture of you and Captain America!" He giggled.

"No, that's not Captain America, that's my friend Steve." You joked.

"That's Captain America's name!" Your nephew defended himself.

"No way, really? That must be a coincidence."

"What is your friend Steve's last name?" He questioned.

"I'm not really sure, I'll have to ask him next time I see him." Steve shook his head at you with a mischievous smile while sitting on the edge of your bed. "What is Captain America's last name?"

"Rogers! How do you not know that!?" The boy laughed over the phone. "Don't you work with these people?!"

"I dunno, maybe you should be an Avenger. You know a lot more about this stuff than I do."

"Okay I'm ending this conversation before my son tries to break into the compound and steal Captain Roger's shield." Your sister took the phone away from the five year old.

"Did you hear that Steve? If your shield goes missing, we have a suspect." You told him.

"Oh god... is Captain Rogers in the room with you right now?" Your sister questioned with a sigh.

"No, she's talking to herself. She's kind've crazy." Steve denied earning a laugh from the other side of the phone.

"Tell me about it! I've had to deal with her all my life!" She laughed. "I'll let you go now, Smalls. I'm glad you're okay, let me know if you need anything. Also feel free to come over whenever you want. You know Luca loves you more than anyone in the world, we would take good care of you if you need it."

"Thank you! And thanks for checking up on me, sorry you got that alert, that must've been scary."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're alright. Stay safe, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon" you agreed before hanging up.

"You're gaslighting a child?" Steve questioned.

"He knows it's a joke." You denied with a tired giggle. "Luca is obsessed with the Avengers but especially you. If I ever actually admitted to him that were close friends he would lose his mind and never leave us alone."

"But he's so cute! You should bring him to the compound and give him a tour!" He enthused.

"I think he would actually combust." You sat up. "Maybe one day, but my Sister doesn't think he's ready for that yet."

"What's her name?"

"Jane, she's four years older than me." You explained. "She called me in a panic because she's my emergency contact. I think Commander Bennett added an injury report to my file so it sent her an automated phone call that I got hurt in battle. It scared the daylight out of her."

"I don't blame her." Steve shook his head. "Thats one of the worst phone calls to ever receive."

"It really is" you agreed. "What time is it?"

"7:30 pm." He grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. It just feels like a really bad sunburn now." You explained. "I still feel pretty beat up from the mission though."

Steve nodded his head in understanding. "I got an email from Bennett, you were cleared from the roster for the rest of the week. So you'll start work again on Monday. Oh, also, someone from the hazard team came and picked up your suit to clean it. They reported back to be about an hour ago that it wasn't salvageable so weaponry is making you a new one. Should be done by the time you get back to work on Monday."

"Thank you, Stevie, you're the best." You smiled.

"Ugh, I know right?" He joked, back flopping right next to you.

"I take it back." You laughed, gently flicking his head.

"Fine. Next time, call Bucky." Steve joked.

Your laugh got louder and you shook your head. "Bucky would've left me on the Jet floor to beat the shit out of Harvey."

"Exactly my point." Steve settled with amusement.

"Speaking of Bucky, do we know where he is right now?"

"Probably beating the shit out of Harvey"

"You boys are exhausting." You sign smiled.

"But you love it." Steve pointed out, poking your cheek.

"I do." You admitted.

Comfortable silence fell over the two of you, nothing significant was running through your mind, but you could tell Steve's mind was running around one thought and one thought only.

"... You're hungry aren't you?" You questioned rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

"How could you tell?" He turned his head to look at you with a big beaming smile on his face.

"I know you like the back of my hand, Rogers."

He hummed in agreement. "You're hungry too."

"How could you tell?"

"Because your stomach was growling in your slee- I mean... because I know you so well!"

"Food?"

"Food." He agreed.

"Alright, let's go big guy." You pat his shoulder twice. "You saw me naked today so now I get to wine and dine you."

"Bug!" He barked out a laugh, and his cheeks immediately turned a pretty shake of pink. "Don't you even start with me!"

“Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone you’ve ever seen me naked, I’ll beat you to a pulp faster than any other agent in the compound gets the chance to call me a whore.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Next part: Expendable

Tag list: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @ynstark @dbnightingale24

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

part 7 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - time passes and you finally find your happiness, but does it last for long?

warning - smut, swearing, near death, angst, bad thoughts, doubt, dirty thoughts, slight violence, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Time had passed since Steve had apologised, things were slowly getting better. You had found friends that you felt you could trust, you were currently standing with Nat and Wanda. You had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago when your eyes had found Steve’s, you didn’t mean to but everything seemed to disappear when you looked at him. 

You could see his expression was serious from where you were standing but as his head turned and his eyes connected with yours. You liked how it softened slightly, he looked at you differently from how he had looked at everyone else and you could feel yourself falling. 

“He looks at you differently.” Nat’s voice pierces your mind.

You hum, not daring to remove your eyes from his. “How does he look at me?” 

Wanda giggles, her eyes flickering between you two. “Like he never wants to look away.” You felt your heart flutter as those words leave her lips.

A similar conversation takes place with the men across from your group. 

“Damn, the way you look at her…” Sam whistles. “You got it bad.” 

Steve’s brows furrow, “How do I look?” 

Bucky smirks, patting his back. “Like you would kill for her.” And Steve would, he knew he would do anything for you. 

Steve felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest when you smiled at him. He had never seen someone with the prettiest smile, not until he met you. He could feel his lips lifting on their own, returning your sweet smile, feeling like he accomplished something when you shyly look away, bottom lip between your teeth holding back a grin. 

You deserved the world and Steve wanted to give it to you. 

“I’m going to do it.” He stated, causing Bucky and Sam to turn their heads his way. “I’m going to finally ask Y/n out.” He looks at them and grins. 

“That’s great, man! When are you gonna do it?” Sam pats his back, while Bucky looks at his best friend with a smile. 

“Now.” That’s all Steve says as he’s already heading towards you, not being able to wait any longer. When he stops in front of you, he swears that everyone can hear how loud his heart is beating. But he didn’t care, all of his attention was on you. “Hi.” Steve sounded like he had run a mile, but you just seemed to knock the breath out of him. 

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with affection. He looked so good in front of you. “Hi.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

Neither of you notice Nat and Wanda slowly moving next to Bucky and Sam who watch you guys with giant smiles. 

“Hi.” Your smile widens as Steve repeats himself and you raise a brow. How could someone be so cute and handsome at the same time? So rough but soft? Steve blinks, his cheeks turning pink as he realises he’s already said hi. “Go out with me?” His eyes widen when he blurts out. “I mean, would you like to go out with me?” 

“I would love to.” Your smile never left your lips and only he seemed to be able to do that. 

Steve nods with a smile before his mouth drops open. “Wait really?” You giggle, nodding. “Good, great! Yes.” He stumbles before clearing his throat. “Now?” 

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Now?” You nervously look down at your outfit. “I’ll need to change… I don’t think I should wear this for our first date.” 

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I mean… You can if you want, but I think you are beautiful in anything.” His eyes don’t leave yours and suddenly you no longer care about what clothes you are wearing.

You lick your lips and turn, beginning to walk off. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” You faintly hear your friends cheer as Steve follows like a lovesick puppy, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. You let out a startled gasp when he suddenly appears beside you, forgetting about his long legs and how he manages to move so fast with them. 

Your chest tightens when you feel his hand softly grasp yours, his fingers fitting so perfectly with yours. He squeezed your hand gently as though he knew how nervous you were. 

Steve had led you to his car, opening the door for you before walking around to the drivers side. You felt the need to ask him where he was taking you, it was right on the tip of your tongue but when you looked at him. You no longer cared, you just wanted to be anywhere he was.

You watched the scenery pass by as Steve drove before he turned into a parking lot. “I just have to grab a few things and then we will head to our date. Does that sound okay?” He looked at you and it felt nice that he wanted to make sure it was okay with you before he did it. You hadn’t experienced this before.

You nod but Steve shakes his head, cupping your cheek softly. “Words, Sweetheart.”

You don’t think you should be feeling what you’re feeling on a first date. Nope, definitely not. You couldn’t jump his bones on a first date, it’s not right. But it’s the only thing you could think about as you stared into his eyes. 

Steve chuckles, his thumb stroking your skin. “Unless you want to come with me?” 

You shake your head, you definitely wouldn’t be able to walk or think straight. You’d need a few seconds without him to be able to calm yourself. “N���no, I’m okay. That sounds okay to me.” Would it be so bad to ditch the date and have him fuck you into the backseat? 

Steve nods, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead before exiting the car with a promise he’ll be quick. The moment the door shuts, you lean back and let out a breath, watching him walk into the shop. Probably wasn’t the best idea as your eyes next left his back or arse.

“Fuck me, how am I going to last?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you try and divert your thoughts somewhere else. “He’s so sweet… I just want to pin him down and ride him.” You huff. “That’s definitely not helping. But he is sweet though…”

You probably looked insane to anyone outside of the car looking in. But you needed to have a small conversation with yourself or you’d end up going crazy. 

Steve rushed around the store, grabbing the things he needed to make this date worth it for you. He didn’t want to screw up his chance, you were what he wanted. He thought about you when he woke up and when he went to sleep, every little thing reminded him of you. Steve felt like the time was finally right. He headed towards the exit after paying but stopped as he came across a small flower stand that he swears wasn’t there when he came in but he doesn’t question it as he wasn’t exactly thinking much when he walked in, his hand skims over a few of them as he tries to find the perfect ones. 

“Not those ones.” His brows furrowed as he heard someone speak to him, causing him to look up. An old man smiles as he moves closer. “Those won’t do.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The flowers. You’re getting them for someone special, yes?” Steve nods, an image of you appearing in his mind. “Then those are definitely not the ones. Here.” The old man begins to pick certain flowers from each bouquet and Steve opens his mouth to say that he probably isn’t allowed to do that but closes when he turns around. 

Steve’s mouth drops open, his arm reaching out and his hand softly grazes the flower. “They’re beautiful.” He pulls his hand back and reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” 

The old man shakes his head, pushing the bouquet towards Steve gently. “It’s on the house, son. Now go, you don’t want to keep this special lady waiting any longer.” He smiles softly, a sparkle in his eyes as Steve grabs the flowers off of him. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. This means a lot.” Steve nods with appreciation before bidding the man a goodbye and walking away. Steve stops, feeling slightly bad. “Wait, I can’t take these for fr–” As he turns, he sees that the stall is gone. As though it was never there. His brows furrowed as he looked between the vacant space and the flowers. Surely it wasn’t all in his head, he had the bouquet in his hand. With a shake of his head, Steve walks out of the store and heads towards the car, questions filling his mind. 

You smile when you see Steve and all the thoughts that cloud his mind suddenly vanish as he looks at you. He smiles back, placing the basket neatly in the backseat before climbing into the front and handing you the bouquet. His hands shake slightly, hoping you’d like them. 

“Steve…” You stare at them with wide eyes, your hands slowly grabbing them and you lean in to smell them before you turn to him, your mouth opening and closing. “They’re beautiful… You didn’t have to…” You blink, feeling tears brim your eyes as you stare at him. “Thank you.” 

Steve reaches over, taking your hand softly. His thumb stroking your knuckles. “I would give you the whole world if I could.” He brings your hand up and places a soft kiss on it before he turns the car on, never letting go of your hand. “Now, are you ready to start our date officially?” You nod, no words able to escape you as you tighten your hold on his. 

You don’t think your mouth had closed since the beginning of this date with Steve, he had pulled moves that you weren’t expecting. Well, moves you didn’t think you deserved. 

You had finally arrived at your destination, which confused you a bit as he parked his car in a dirt parking lot in front of the woods. You looked at him and tilted your head. “If you brought me out here to kill me. I just want to let you know that you will probably get a one star review for first dates.”

Steve looks at you and chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill such a beautiful woman. I’d be incredibly stupid if I did.” He kisses your hand again before hopping out of the car and jogging around to your side before you even have a chance to turn around. Steve opens the door and helps you out before grabbing the basket in the back, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you through a short path. Your mouth drops open once again as you notice a beautiful field at the end of the path, it looks like something from a dream. “Do you like it?”

You squeeze his hand, not taking your eyes off of the field. “I love it.” You feel Steve let go before watching him walk out and find a spot, you watch him set the basket down and open it, pulling out a blanket. He lays the blanket flat on the ground before pulling food and drinks out of the basket. You walk over as he gestures for you, grabbing your hand softly as he helps you down. You stumble, falling into his chest gently. Your hands resting flat on the hardened muscle, his hands gripping your hips. 

Your eyes meet and you both notice how close you are to each other. You notice how well you seem to fit together. 

“Sorry…” Your cheeks heat up and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you continue to look into his eyes. 

“Don’t be.” Steve’s eyes dart between yours and your lips, his grip tightening slightly. “Are you hungry, Sweetheart?” 

You nod, teeth sinking harder into your lip because you aren’t thinking about food. Steve’s lips lift into a smirk, one hand moving to cup your cheek as his thumb pulls your lip from your mouth. 

“For food, Sweetheart. No matter how much I want to, I’m not going to sleep with you on the first date, nor the second or third. I want you to know I’m serious about being with you for you and not what’s between your legs.” He looked so serious and all you could think was–

Is it possible for hearts to have orgasms?

Steve sets you in a comfortable position on his lap, he liked the feeling of you close and when you didn’t protest, he took that as a good sign. He grabs the paper plates he bought and piles food onto them, listening to you ask for either more or a specific thing. You talked in a different light then how you guys talked when around your friends, it felt good, refreshing even. 

After you had finished eating, you and Steve lied onto your backs. You decided to play a small game that included the clouds and you couldn’t stop the laughs from escaping you. Steve couldn’t stop himself from staring at you. 

Your head falls to the side, the smile slowly falling off of your face as you notice Steve looking at you. “What?...” Was there something on your face? 

He hums, eyes fluttering as they dance across your face, taking in your features. “Just wondering how anyone could let you slip through their fingers. Must be blind or dumb… Or possibly both.” 

“You wouldn’t let me slip through yours?” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and it was driving Steve crazy. 

He shakes his head. “I’d choose you and I’ll choose you, over, and over, and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I will keep choosing you.” You suck in a breath at his confession. Steve moves closer and takes your face into his hands. “Don’t you know? I have been yours. You always had my heart from the beginning. I fell for you ages ago. I have always belonged to you and only you.” He leans closer and your lips part. “I am yours, Sweetheart. Even if you aren’t mine.” 

It felt like everything had finally fallen together as he uttered those words. You could finally see what you had in front of you, you could finally feel what you had been pushing away. You wanted to jump, you wanted him.

“I’m yours.” The moment those words fall from your lips, Steve’s lips crash into yours, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head while the other cups your cheek. You could have sworn there were sparks, fireworks… Everything that the books and movies said would happen. 

The void inside yours and Steve’s chest had finally been filled, causing an extreme amount of love and happiness to flow through you. 

You pull away, softly gasping for air. You didn’t want to stop, because his lips felt so fucking good against yours. But unfortunately you needed to breathe and it seemed as though Steve felt the same as your eyes connected with his dark gaze.

Steve’s thumb strokes your cheek, “God, your ex is such a fucking idiot.” You hum, blinking slowly as you continue to stare into his eyes, his words barely registering in your mind. “But if I ever run into him. I’m definitely going to thank him.” 

You blink, brows furrowing as you pull back. “Huh?”

Steve grins. “Don’t get me wrong, If I ever meet the guy. I’ll definitely kill him for hurting you. But if he didn’t hurt you like he did, you wouldn’t have left and we wouldn’t have bumped into each other again.” He moves closer, brushing his nose against yours before pulling back and smiling more. “So, before I kill him. I am going to thank him for leading you back to me.” 

You huff, glaring at him a bit before cracking a smile when Steve just grins back. Your eyes flicker down to your fingers that play with his beard, humming softly before looking back into his eyes. “You wouldn’t kill him… It’s not who you are.”

Steve leans forward, pressing a rough but tender kiss against your lips before he pulls back. “You don’t seem to understand the power you hold over me, Sweetheart. I would rip the world apart with my bare hands if anything ever happened to you.” Your heart jumped, but not in fear. “Hell, I’d do it if you simply asked me too. That’s how much power you hold over me, Sweetheart.” Your lips part as he takes your chin in his hand, gently caressing it as he looks at you. “I need you to understand before we go any further with this. That I am yours and only yours. There is no other person that I want, no one else crosses through my thoughts when I think of love. You are the only one I want to be with.”

“I understand.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, no you don’t and that’s okay. I won’t go anywhere when you have doubts about me, or when you begin to worry that I may be cheating. I am going to stick through it all because I want you. Because I will prove to you that you are the only woman I will ever love, ever be intimate with. Even if it takes forever for you to fully trust and believe, I can do this all day.” His words were so gentle and filled with love that you felt like crying. 

You cupped his face into your hands, pulling him back in for a deep kiss. Your eyes closing as you savor this feeling, enjoying how complete you feel when his lips touch yours. 

After your first date, everything else seemed to finally fall into place. Steve kept his word on not sleeping with you on your second and third date, which was driving you insane because he treated you so well while looking so god damn hot doing it. It was like he knew that you were seconds away from jumping him because he’d tease you and smirk while doing it but he would never let it go any further. It was like he was doing everything in his power to make you understand he was in this for more than just sex. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking deep breaths as you prepared for another date Steve had planned. The other dates you didn’t react like this but this one he was taking you to a carnival. You were scared that what you had with Steve would change after this. You knew it was silly, it was just a carnival but what if this was a sign? What if things went downhill because things reminded you of him?

You blink out of your daze when you feel arms wrapping around you, your back hitting a thick body. Your eyes meet Steve’s worried gaze, your mouth opens but Steve beats you to it. 

“If you’re thinking you aren’t beautiful again. I swear I will put you over my knee.” He watches as your thighs squeeze together at the thought. “Maybe not, you seem to be into that idea.” Steve spins you around, pushing you softly against the counter while gripping your chin between his fingers. “Do you want to tell me what you are feeling?” 

You begin to chew on your bottom lip, staring up at him as you think. Steve tuts gently, pulling your lip from your teeth as he glares down at them before his eyes dart up to your eyes, raising a brow. “Johnny took me to the carnival…” 

He sucks in a breath at the mention of your ex, wishing he could give that man a piece of his mind. Possibly dumping his body into the ocean also but that could wait. “We don’t have to go if it’s making you uncomfortable, Sweetheart. I am happy as long as you are happy.” 

Your brows furrow as you hate this feeling, your ex hurt you and now you are acting like a child because a man who actually loves you wants to take you somewhere special. “No, I’m being stupid. I want to go.” 

You let out a soft gasp when he pushes you into the counter more, squeezing your chin slightly. “Sweetheart. Don’t you dare call yourself fucking stupid again. You are not stupid for feeling like this, do you understand?” 

You pout slightly, squeezing your thighs together softly as Steve moves your head up and down. “Good girl. I knew you would.” He leans down, pecking your lips gently. “Where do you want to go, Sweetheart?” 

“The carnival.” You let out a small whimper, wishing he would just fuck you right here and right now. 

You arrive, hand gripping Steve’s. He thinks it’s due to anxiety and bad memories but you really just want to sink to your knees and worship him. 

Steve lets you pull him along, going from game to game. You play a game of each before he takes a turn, winning you every prize you have your eye on. You couldn’t be happier, the other memories now forgotten as they are replaced with the happiness Steve brings. 

“I’m going to get us some food. Will you be okay here?” Steve asks, cupping your cheek as he peers down at you. You nod, smiling up at him as he leans down and pecks your lips. “Call out if you need me, Sweetheart. I’d drop everything to make sure you’re safe.” 

You let out a sigh of happiness as he walks away, your eyes falling to his arse. You were slightly jealous at how glorious it was compared to yours. But then again, if you asked Steve, he would say yours was a work of art. 

“Y/n?” You are pulled out of your thoughts as a familiar voice calls out to you. Your eyes drift and lock onto your ex-husband’s, he walks over with a giant smile. “Damn, you’re looking good! How have you been? Who was that guy?” 

You blink, confused. “Uh, I’ve been fine. That’s Steve.” You began to look around, hoping to catch Steve’s eye but you couldn’t see him anywhere. How far had he gone for food? Did he really go for food or was he pulling a Johnny? Your heart squeezed at the thought of being played again, you were stupid to think that you could get your happy ending. 

Johnny reaches out and touches your arm, moving closer. “I’ve missed you, Baby Girl.” You feel like you are going to throw up as the nickname slips from his lips. “Why don’t you give me another chance, hmm? I promise I won’t do it again.” 

“What happened to Sarah?” 

Johnny scoffs, his thumb stroking your arm. “She didn’t want to come. Don’t worry about her, so. What do you say we get out of here and I can make up for all of that time we missed?” 

You try to pull away while looking at him disgusted. “What the fuck, Johnny. You haven’t fucking changed at all. I loved you!” 

Johnny scoffs, “I know.” 

“And you broke my heart.” 

He nods. “I know that, too.” 

Your mouth opens as you go to say something but a dark shadow looms over the two of you. You turn your head and sigh as you realise it’s Steve, his eyes dark as he glares down at Johnny. Without realising, Johnny loosens his grip allowing Steve to pull you closer to him, tucking you into his side. 

“This is the guy you replaced me with?” He laughs, pointing. “This guy? He couldn’t even make you fucking scream if he tried.” He looks between you and Steve before settling back on you. “Come back to me, Baby Girl and I promise I’ll make you forget this guy.” Johnny reaches for you only for Steve to reach forward and grip his neck. 

You looked around with wide eyes, thankfully Steve chose a more secluded area because he wanted to spend some time with you without others intervening. 

“Touch her again and I’ll break your neck.” 

That was not supposed to turn you on. You were sick, yep. Definitely sick. 

Johnny tries to scoff the best he can while his neck is currently being squeezed. “Please, the slut wants me back. She’s so fucking pathetic I bet she spread her legs the moment you gave her the smallest bit of attention.” 

You watch with wide eyes and a wet cunt as Steve’s grip becomes tighter, he leans closer and whispers words low enough you can barely hear. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Steve’s voice becomes threatening, a slight growl escaping as he glares into Johnny’s eyes. “If you say another word about the woman I love, if you look at her, if you even think about her. I am going to fucking kill you.” 

“Dud–” Johnny tries to speak, his face turning red as he struggles to breathe.

“Actually, I think I will kill you now.” 

You realised Steve wasn’t kidding. He would follow through with everything he had told you on your first date, your eyes widened even more when you realised he had claimed you were the woman he loved. Loved. 

He, Steve Rogers, loved you?

Your chest tightens, “Steve…”

“Don’t you dare argue with me, Sweetheart. You’re mine.” The growl that slips from his lips is so feral, you felt like falling to your knees. “You don’t belong to this piece of shit anymore.” Steve turns his attention away from the man he’s currently choking to you. A darkness swirls deep inside of him, blinding him from being able to think rationally at this point. “You belong to me. Understand?” 

Fuck. 

Without much thought, you launch forward, capturing his lips in a deep, love-filled kiss. Pouring everything you felt into him, your arms moved, cupping his face as you did your best to pull him closer to you. Steve’s grip loosens, dropping Johnny. The both of you ignore as he falls, holding his throat as he coughs, trying to breathe again. 

You sigh happily as Steve’s body turns fully towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his other moves to cup the back of your head. Your lips moving so beautifully together, a squeal escapes you as Steve suddenly lifts you, your legs wrapping around him. You moan against his lips as his hand moves from your back to your arse, squeezing and slapping it. 

You pushed through the lust clouding your mind, finally realising you were still very much in public while your ex husband was still rubbing his throat on the ground. But the feel of Steve’s hands and lips against you was like heaven, you didn’t want this to stop ever. Maybe you should thank Johnny, it seemed his arseholeness was the final push for Steve to give into both of your desires. 

A moan slipped from your lips as Steve pulled you even closer to him, nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip as he devoured you. “Fuck. I don’t want our first time to be here, Sweetheart but you’re making this so fucking impossible.” Steve groans, squeezing your arse harder and bringing you into an even deeper kiss. 

“Take me home, Steve.” You breathe into the kiss, tugging slightly on his hair as you pull back to look at him with hooded eyes. “Please. Claim me as yours completely.” 

You watch his eyes darken even more if that was even possible. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Without letting go of you, Steve bends down and stares at Johnny. “If you even think about trying anything. I will end you.” Your grip on him tightens at the threat, causing Steve to smirk. “You lost an incredible woman because of how pathetic you are. But I would like to thank you for leading her to me. If it weren’t for you being such a screw up, I wouldn’t have this wonderful woman in my arms and soon in my bed where you will be the last thing on her mind.” 

With one last look of disgust, Steve carries you throughout the carnival and to the car, hurriedly placing you inside before rushing in himself and driving you back to his place, you squirm the whole way as he leaves his hand on the inside of your thigh. 

You barely have time to breathe as Steve stops the car and instantly rushes to your side. Your arms wrapping around him as he picks you up, you had never seen Steve so… Impatient before, he was always the type to be calm and collected. Your eyes scan his face, noting the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. He was so beautiful, how did you become so lucky? You reach Steve’s door but you barely notice, your eyes are stuck on him. Admiring his thick beard and his hair that he had begun growing out. 

Steve looks down at you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to–” 

You press your lips against his gently. “Shh. I want you.” Your hand cups his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into your touch. “I am better than okay. No one has ever done what you did, Steve and I love you for it.” 

A squeal leaves you as Steve launches forward, capturing your lips with his. He manages to open the door before pressing you against the back of it, his hands moving all over your body, not wanting to miss anything. You moan into the kiss, it was like everything was finally falling into place. Your hands fly up, cupping his face and tugging on his hair. You pull him even closer, not wanting there to be any space between the two of you. 

Steve pulls back and you whimper, “God. I want you so bad.” Your breath gets caught in your throat at his confession. His hands grip your hips, looking you deep in your eyes. “You seriously don’t understand the effect you have on me. I can’t even be in the same room as you because I just want to touch you every chance I get.” Your mouth falls open, legs squeezing together.

“Steve…”

He hums, eyes focused on your lips. “Yeah, Sweetheart?” 

“Fuck me.” 

A grin makes its way onto his face as your eyes connect. “As you wish.” 

Next thing you know, you’re on your back staring up at the ceiling as Steve pulls your thighs onto his shoulders. You don’t remember when your clothes had come off but you can barely think as Steve begins to feast on you, your hands curl into the sheets below. “Oh god!” He groans deep into you, tongue swirling and flicking before his lips wrap around your swollen clit, sucking it hard into his mouth as your back arches off of the bed. 

Steve pulls away as you’re about to cum, causing you to look at him with furrowed brows. “I want to feel you cum around me. Then I’m going to take you apart over and over again until you can barely remember your name. Understand, Sweetheart?” 

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him. Brain feeling so fuzzy that you can’t even respond to him now. Steve leans closer, pressing his body against yours. A moan fills the room as you feel his length resting against your cunt. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. Save your voice, you’ll need it to scream my name out later.” Steve grips your hips, rubbing his thick member against your slick folds before he begins to push in. “Fuck. You feel so good.” 

Your hands fly up, gripping onto him as he thrusts deeper inside of you. “Steve!”

“You’re being so good for me, Sweetheart. My good girl.” He rests his forehead against yours as his hips move, thrusting in and out of you at a steady but rough pace. His hands move all over you, gripping every part of your body before he rests on your neck, cupping it. Your arms wrap around him, crying out as he fucks you.

You clench around him, feeling your end approaching. “Steve! So close!” You moan as his lips connect with yours, bringing you into a deep kiss. His thrusts pick up, slamming into a spot deep inside of you that causes you to see stars. Your back arches, pressing your body closer against his as you cum hard around him. “STEVE!” You scream out, blacking out for a slight moment.

Steve groans into the kiss, biting down gently on your bottom lip as his cock twitches, pumping you full of his cum. You hold onto him tightly as he continues to coat your walls, hips moving softly against you. He pulls back and looks at you with darkened eyes. “You’ve got me hooked, Sweetheart. There’s no way I’m letting go of you now.” You gasp as you feel him harden inside of you, fully aware that you’re in for a long night.

Steve flops down beside you, huffing slightly as he tries to catch his breath. You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. “Wow.” 

He smiles, pulling you close to him. You snuggle into him, your sore body relaxing as he begins to caress your shoulders and back. Steve leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. “I love you. I want you to know that this isn’t a one time thing for me. You are it for me, okay? You are the woman I want to spend every waking moment with.” You smile happily into his chest. 

So this is love? You could get used to this kind of love. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

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

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

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

word count: 3895

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard. 

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.” 

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet. 

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past. 

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night. 

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet. 

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth. 

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him. 

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair. 

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth. 

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded. 

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip. 

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night. 

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were. 

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath. 

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move. 

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp. 

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him. 

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock. 

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts. 

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were. 

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you. 

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase. 

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt. 

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head. 

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close. 

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric. 

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl. 

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently. 

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth. 

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole. 

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind. 

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just­­–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?” 

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[krirebr]

Psycho Killer AU Masterlist

Summary: A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life.

Warnings: Psychological horror, dubcon, gore, death - See each entry for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

A/N: All titles come from Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever.

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

You take a trip to Boston

Qu'est-ce Que C'est

You and Ransom go to Paris.

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

In Germany, you and Ransom run into someone from his past.

Continuing AU

[worksby-d]

A Great Mentor: Keeper

A One Shot

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Request: “I was thinking about a little blurb of Andy and reader dating for like a year (long enough for them to have said I love you) and they’re just reminiscing together one day and he cheekily asks reader what was the moment she knew he was ‘a keeper’”

Warnings: Age gap, allusion to past abortion, multiple flashbacks that I hope are easy to follow along (I love a good flashback with this couple, SUE ME)

Word count: ~2,100

Series masterlist

The baseball game on the TV is background noise for you as you focus on the textbook in your lap. You’ve told Andy multiple times he could turn the volume up, not knowing how he’s following what’s going on if he can’t hear it. But he claims he’s fine, wanting you to be able to concentrate on studying. 

A lot of the weekends he visits are spent like this – Quiet afternoons in your apartment, Andy keeping you company while you do school work. He doesn’t mind though. Neither of you do, just happy to be spending time together in person. It sure beats the hours-long phone calls you have to settle for throughout the week.

You can feel him staring at you and you know he has something to say when he rests a hand on your legs that are in his lap. But you don’t entertain him. 

“Can I ask you something?” There’s a bit of amusement in his voice. “When did you…” He pauses as if he’s looking for the word he wants to use. “...Know?”

Rolling your eyes, you finally look up at him, laughing a little. “Know what?”

“That you liked me enough to be with me this long.”

“Oh,” you hum, teasing him. “When I knew you were a keeper?”

“I guess, yeah.” He drops his head, hiding his awkward smile from you. “Didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a lovesick teenage boy.”

Closing your textbook, you shrug thinking about it. “I think there were a lot of moments that all added up.” 

He gives you a look, kind of cocky, but intrigued. “Go on.”

“Starting all the way back when I wasn’t supposed to be falling for you.” You shoot him a playful glare. He’ll never understand how impossible he made it to not fall for him. “Like… That time you asked me to come over and I assumed it was for a hookup, but you just wanted someone to talk to.”

˗ˏˋ You would have denied it if you were asked, but you looked forward to his texts asking you to come over. It had only been a couple weeks of… whatever you'd call the arrangement between the two of you, but something about him was intoxicating, addicting, and you quickly grew to look forward to the evenings you could spend with him. 

That day his text came earlier than usual, but you figured he maybe got off of work early. When you got to his house though, you found him in his home office, still with work scattered around him. 

“Hey,” you spoke up softly to get his attention. 

“Hey you,” he grinned, but didn’t look up from his computer. 

He wasn’t giving you much to work with. You cocked your head watching him continue to work on whatever you walked in on. 

“So,” you hummed. “What’s up?”

“Just having the longest day ever,” he scoffed softly. Finally looking up at you, he saw the bemused look on your face. “What?”

“Well, do you need me to….” You were willing to offer anything really, but not say it out loud, hoping he’d fill in the blank for you.

“No, I don’t need you to do anything,” he shook his head, equally confused. “Wait, what did my text say?”

“Uh,” you chuckled. “Come over. Question mark. Same as always.”

You held your fingers up as air quotes as you said it and he mouthed a silent ‘Oh.’

“No, I’ve just had the day from hell and my first thought was just asking you to come over to…” He shrugged, not sure what he was thinking really, but he for once wasn’t alluding to sex is all he knew. 

“So you just want me to….”

“Keep me company… Hang out… Chill...” He kept looking for words and winced at the smirk you were failing to suppress. 

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to sound younger,” you teased, saving him from any more attempts at finding the word someone your age would use. “I got it.”

“I’m really sorry.” He didn’t know why he assumed you’d want to “hang out” with him. “I should have just said that instead of my usual text.”

“No, it’s okay.” You looked around the room and took a few steps back to get comfortable on the sofa across from his desk. “I like just talking to you.”

You weren’t lying. Over those couple weeks, you got to… kind of know him. It was surface level, but enough to find out how funny and kind he was. You were right on the precipice of getting to know each other deeper. You could feel it, no matter how much you tried to reject the thought.

“Right on,” he smiled. 

It felt good to know he enjoyed your presence all the time, not only when you were in his bed. ˎˊ˗

“I was kind of an ass,” he laughs, shaking his head thinking back to it. “Ordering you to come over like that.”

“Hey, I didn’t see it like that.” You nudge him with your knee to get him to look at you. “I would have said ‘no’ if I didn’t want to see you.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at you. “You never said ‘no’...”

“What’s not clicking?” You giggle. “I always wanted to see you.”

“Whatever.” 

You miss the way he rolls his eyes as you take a careful pause before recalling another moment.

“There was also you not swearing me out of your life after…”

Your voice trails off, but you both know what you’re talking about. You don’t have to say it, you don’t like saying it. 

˗ˏˋ You broke down once you got back to his place after it was over, partly from the pain that was setting in and partly from feeling like you did something wrong. 

Barely making it through the door, he held you as you cried in his entryway.

He told you everything was going to be okay and you couldn’t fathom why he was being so nice, but you sure as hell weren’t going to risk anything by questioning it. 

Once you had no tears left, he insisted on letting you sleep in his bedroom so you’d be comfortable. 

“What about you?” You sniffled as he walked you upstairs. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he chuckled, knowing he was too worried about you to get any sleep anyway. 

While you tried to get comfortable in bed, he was asking what you needed and got everything he could think of – Painkillers, a heating pad, water. 

“Yell for me if you need anything else, okay? Or text me if that’s easier.”

You just nodded and he knew you wanted to be alone. 

“Andy,” you said softly, voice cracking, before he could shut the door behind him as he walked out.

When he turned back to you, his eyes said it again. “Stop apologizing.”

He didn’t say those words so many times over the previous days because he was upset with you or wanted to shut you up, but because he genuinely wanted you to know you had nothing to be apologizing for. 

Neither of you actually said anything, just the look you shared felt like closure at the time. Where you kept expecting to see anger, you continuously saw the look of someone who really cared about you, giving you enough comfort to drift into a light sleep that night. ˎˊ˗

You avoid the sympathetic look that you know he can’t help. You don’t need it. 

“I never would have,” he reminds you. 

Offering a small smile, you do look back to him. “I know that.”

There’s a silence before you take it upon yourself to lighten the mood. 

“Do you remember our first date?” You smirk. “I made you help me pick out my outfit.”

˗ˏˋ He wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you for dinner, so you showed up to his place with multiple outfit options.

And after not seeing each other in person for three months, you needed a way to break the ice anyway.

“Help me pick what to wear?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

You didn’t really give him an option though, finding yourself falling back into being comfortable with him like no time had passed. You gently grabbed his arm and started to walk upstairs, hoping he’d just follow you. 

He shook his head as you laid out different pieces of clothes on his bed. 

“It’s just dinner…” 

He looked amused when you scoffed at him. 

“You’re such a man. There’s different vibes at different restaurants and since you won’t tell me which one we’re going to…”

“Different ‘vibes’?” 

“You’re killing me,” you laughed. He was clueless. “Just pick something.”

He held his hands up in defense, pointing at his pick. He just hoped he got the ‘vibes’ right, whatever that meant.

When you met him back downstairs after getting ready, he was sitting on his laptop at the kitchen counter. 

“Oh, if you’re busy–” 

“No, oh God, no,” he stuttered, feeling bad that’s what you immediately assumed. “I was just trying to pass time with work instead of the nervous pacing I was doing.” 

Hearing him say he was nervous was funny. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

“It’s just me,” you smiled. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That’s every reason to be nervous,” he chuckled before quickly changing the subject. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks…” The butterflies were going crazy in your stomach as he held out his hand for you. You took it, winking at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself Mr. Barber.” ˎˊ˗

There's an amused look on your face as that evening flashes through your mind. “That was definitely one of the moments.”

His face falls in a look of faux offense. “Seeing me nervous?” 

“It was cute,” you tease. “And then I guess our second date was it for me. I think I finally let myself come to terms with the fact I had it bad for you.”

˗ˏˋ Everything was so easy with him.

You didn’t think anything of it as one thing led to another when you got back to his place after dinner. Making out on his couch turned into you straddling his lap as his hands softly roamed your back.

You felt your sweater ride up and the brush of Andy’s fingertips against your skin. 

The accidental contact brought you out of your pleasure-filled haze, goosebumps covering your exposed skin. 

“Wait,” you murmured against his lips, pulling away slightly to catch your breath. “I’m not– I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his. You didn’t want to lead him on like you felt you did a few weeks prior. 

“I’m sorry–” He instinctively pulled your sweater back down, noticing where his hand was. “I wasn’t trying to… Wasn’t trying to take it any further than this.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, dropping your face to hide against his shoulder. You felt bad for assuming he was trying to push you to do anything. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured.

You carefully moved off of him to sit beside him instead, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Are you hungry?” He wasn’t going to allow an uncomfortable silence. “I still have those cookies that we didn’t make the last time you were here.”

Cracking a smile is the last thing you expected to do in that moment, but he got you to do it. ˎˊ˗

“You changed the subject to making cookies so I wouldn’t dwell on it,” you pout, thinking back to it. 

He’s a little caught off guard finding out that meant so much to you. 

“That was just me respecting whatever emotions you were going through at the time…” 

“I know,” you laugh a little. “But I’m 99 percent sure any guy I was with before you would have tried talking me into feeling ready by then.”

“I never even would have thought to do that.”

“‘Cause you’re a good guy, Andy,” you tell him seriously before taking on a more teasing tone. “And I can’t believe I bagged you.”

He shakes his head. “The bar is on the floor for us guys, huh?” 

“Yeah, it is,” you laugh, finally sitting up so you can kiss his cheek and look in his eyes. “But you exceed the bar, I promise. I’ve only fallen more and more in love with you every day since then.”

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