#just the two of us)

[enii]

Us💕

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Helping Hand

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you meet someone you never expect at the grocery store.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sway back and forth holding your few staples. You wait patiently for checkout, happy enough to do so as you avoid the typical awkward interaction of the checkout lane. Some might dread it, but you prefer self-checkout. It spares you the face-scalding small talk with the cashiers and you’re certain they don’t hate you for it either. 

The man at the machine just ahead of you hisses and tips his head back. He takes a deep breath and sets his chin straight, scratching his blond hair as the machine beeps at him. He seems frustrated by the scanner as he waves a jar of peanut butter back and forth over it. 

“Come on...” he mutters then stops to look around. The attendant is at another machine, helping a woman key in her produce. “...should just leave it...” 

You watch him as he turns back to the screen and taps it in exasperation. There’s something familiar about him. In a city this big, odds are you could see the same face a dozen time in the same day and not know it. 

“Um, excuse me,” your bag of sourdough rustles as you tiptoe slowly close, “do you want some help?” 

He turns to you and you’re stricken as you recognise him at once. It’s Steve Rogers. Captain America. The homegrown hero of New York! 

“I’m so sorry. I know I’m taking forever here,” he pushes his hair back. It’s a mess from his anguished scratching and combing. “I’m trying, I swear.” 

“Here, er, do you mind,” you balance your armful as you near. He steps back and shakes his head, “you got a better chance of figuring this dang thing out.” 

“Alright, no promises, but I used to work retail, so, I think I can,” you carefully set down your groceries at the edge of the small metal shelf of the self-checkout. “Peanut butter, please.” 

He looks down at the jar then hands it over. Your fingertips brush as you take it and find the barcode. You angle it down and the machine scans it right away. He groans and puts his palm to his forehead. 

“Of course,” he sniffs. “I promise I’m not a total disaster. I thought this would be faster.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you smile. “Least I can do for the First Avenger.” 

He visibly cringes, “right.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you shake your head. “I wasn’t... meaning to... do you need help with the rest?” 

He nods and looks down. Now you feel awful. You didn’t mean to embarrass him. You take his bunch of bananas and key in the number then weigh it. You put it aside and finish with his pulpy orange juice and a can of ovaltine... Ovaltine? 

“Right, I think that’s it,” you gather up your stuff. “You’re all set and there’s a machine free so I’ll get out of your hair.” 

He slips his fingers into his pocket and slides out his wallet, “thanks. Appreciate it.” 

You sidle away and claim the next machine. You scan through your bread, cans of salmon, six-pack of muffins, and the little odds and ends. You unfold your reusable bag and put each inside before you pay. 

“Ahem,” the deep noise draws you away from the pinpad. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry if I came of... rude. It’s not you. The dang machine just—got the best of me. It’s not you and I mean, you were just being nice. And helpful.” 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you smile as you keep your hand on the debit machine. 

“I know but I almost made it one.” 

“No, it’s nothing,” you turn back to finish before the machine times out. It thinks as he lingers close by. 

“You’re really nice. I don’t deserve that. Captain should know better,” he says. “But I do prefer Steve.” 

He holds out his hand as you swipe your card free and tuck it away. You shove it back in your purse and face him. You take his free hand and shake it as you offer your name. “Nice to meet you, Steve.” 

“You, too.” 

“Um,” you look behind him, “don’t wanna be in anyone’s way.” 

You quickly snatch up your bag and hurry out of the checkout area. He follows you with long but easy strides. As you pass through the door, he’s only a step behind. 

“Look, I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” he says as he catches up. “But, uh, could I carry your bag or something? I feel like I owe you.” 

“Oh, no, it’s not very empty,” you assure him. “But thanks!” 

“Hmm, well, how about...” he looks around, “coffee?” 

You follow his gaze across the street. You’re not really in a hurry but you didn’t plan to be sitting down at a cafe. Your leggings a loose sweatshirt aren’t exactly trendsetting. 

“I mean it, you know, it wasn’t anything at all.” You insist. 

“Yeah, but how many nice people do you meet around here, huh?” He asks. As if to make his point, he grabs your elbow and angles you away from the edge of the sidewalk as the man behind you nearly walks right over you. “Gotta admit, you’re the first friendly face I’ve met since I got out of the ice and that was a while ago.” 

“Uh, wow, that’s sweet. I suppose a coffee won’t hurt,” you say. “And I know what you mean, I’ve been here two months and I don’t know anyone. I thought a made a friend but she stole my shoes and never called me back.” 

“Really? Someone did that to you?” He flutters his lashes in disbelief. “That’s rotten.” 

“I suppose she really liked them. Besides, they weren’t very practical. Kind of uncomfortable so really, she did me a favour,” you laugh. “One thing I learned, the city moves fast and you gotta keep up with it. So, I just keep going. As best I can.” 

“Hm, well,” he turns with you as you reach the crosswalk. “I think we wear a different size so I promise, I won’t steal those.” 

You glance down at your knockoff Uggs in purple and snort, “oh, you think so?” You move your foot closer to his and compare the difference with his large leather shoes. “I think you could squeeze in.” 

He laughs, a rocky rumble that fills you with warmth. Or maybe you’re a bit starstruck. If you had any friends, you might just brag to them that you met the Captain. You guess you’ll just have to savour it to yourself. 

[dehsenh0s]

Os aziracrow 💖

[weevilspng]

We can make it if we try 🎶

[believealittlebitlonger]

"It was like there's only the two of us in the scene"

[lunat1cc]

Just the two of them

[tategaminu]

don't u ever cry because they are so in love

[pochiikou]

[shoujo-dump]

Douse, Koishite Shimaunda.

[rakiah]

Chapter 22 : Do not snub me

From Just the two of us as always ♥️ @disownedbytiime 🫶

[andromebaa]

Kokichi’s snarling lips opened to speak, or heckle, or curse. Kaito never found out what he wanted to say because without thinking he had propelled himself forward as far as possible. Wrapping his arms around the smaller body to anchor himself, Kaito pressed his mouth against Kokichi’s.

Shout out to the amazing @bossubeats for this incredible commission. I can’t stop looking at it, it’s so wonderful 😭

If this i n t r i g u e s you (trust me the context is so much more horrifying than it looks) please check out the horror/hate/love story that is Just the Two of Us - https://archiveofourown.org/works/44893594/chapters/112957387

[beclight]

Just the two of them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Night Changes

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve stops by unexpectedly.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“No lie, that’s gotta be the best hot cocoa I’ve ever had,” Steve holds out his empty glass.  

You take his cup and he recoils, smothering a yawn in the crook of his elbow, “it’s off-brand and comes in a can. You don’t need to flatter me.” 

“I’m not exaggerating,” he chuckles as he drops his arm. His eyes are shadows with dark rings. It’s only then you notice how tired he looks. He did mention he’d just got back from a mission. “Delicious.” 

“Sure,” you grab your cup and go around the counter to rinse both out. 

He stretches his arms above him as the futons squeak. He yawns again, this time almost roaring, “Guess I should head out soon,” he says. 

“No rush, but you seem beat,” you put one mug in the rack then work at the other. “Shouldn’t be too busy this late.” 

He doesn’t respond as the faucet continues to flow. You shut it off and set the other mug in the metal holder. You dry off your hands and peek over at him. Is he... 

The loud snort affirms your suspicions. In a second, he’s fallen asleep. He must be dead tired. You wonder why he even bothered coming. Then again, you know how those things can sneak up on you. 

You hang the dishcloth and go to the couch. His legs are splayed and limp, his hands on his thighs, as his chest rises and falls with his snores. You raise your hand and hover it above his shoulder. You hesitate. 

You curl your fingers in as you think of another sleeping man. The type that would explode out of sleep and scream until your ears hurt. Then more pain. The kind that left bruises. 

You back up and drop your arm. You can let him sleep. He’s tired. He’s been out fighting bad guys and you’ve been sitting here staring at the sky. 

You check the balcony door, then the front door to make sure the locks are in place. You tiptoe around as his steady snores continue. You take a blanket from the closet and drape it over him cautiously. 

You grab your bedding from the chest you also use as a coffee table and lay it out on the floor. Folded, the futon isn’t very big. You add an extra quilt for padding and turn off the lights. 

You lay down and put white noise on your phone to help you sleep. At first, you can’t. You close your eyes but you’re restless and the floor is hard. You roll this way and that until you feel that heaviness in your eyelids. When you fall asleep, it a sludgy darkness that aches in your limps. 

When you wake, you’re stiff and sore. You shiver and hug the blankets closer as the cold air nips at your cheek. You can see your breath. The morning light peers in with a grim gray haze and adds to the frigidity. You groan. You’re too freezing and achy to make yourself sit up. 

“Hey,” Steve’s voice startles you as his footsteps circle around the chest, “where’s your thermostat? It’s getting a bit chilly.” 

“Therm...” you murmur through chattering teeth, “the building controls i-i-it. D-d-don't have one.” 

“Jeez, you slept on the floor,” he looks down as you realise he’d been calling out as if you have another room; well, there’s the bathroom. “You could’ve woken me up.” 

“You were tired,” you say hoarsely and sniffle. You turn onto your side. Your nose is full and you can barely breathe. You can hear the nasal clog in your voice. 

“Are you getting sick?” He asks. 

“No,” you insist, “it’s just the dry air.” 

You hide the pang that rattles your skull and nearly whimper as you push away the blankets. You stand, mustering all your efforts, and cross your arms, not only to warm yourself but to hide your very braless torso. 

“Sound sick to me,” he says. 

“I’m fine,” you snort deeply. “Mm, I need some tea.” 

“You need to relax,” he turns and goes to the futon. He feels underneath it and releases the lever to it falls flat. “Lay down. I can make the tea.” 

“I said I’m all good,” you argue, “please Steve. You should go home and get some real sleep.” 

“Speak for yourself,” he counters. 

You laugh, “it’s good, Cap. You don’t have to save me from myself. Really. I’ve slept on worse floors.” 

You shake your head and brush past him. You go around the counter and put the kettle on. You hug yourself and rub your arms as you blow out your breath. 

“You have?” He says. 

You look at him curiously. “I’ve what?” 

“You’ve said you’ve slept on worse floor...” his expression is dire. 

You smile and shrug, “and I’m sure you have too.” 

He stares at you. You shy away and turn to take out a mug. He approaches and stands just to the side, fingers tapping on laminate. 

“It’s awfully cold in here.” 

“Thought you wouldn’t feel it. The serum or whatever,” you suggest. 

“Yes, I’m not worried about me.” He says. 

“Do you want some tea? More hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“You’re changing the subject.” 

“Because the conversation is over. I told you, I’m not sick. It’ll warm up. There’s a timer on the radiator. Usually kicks in around nine and it’s only... 7:30.” You rub your palms together then blow into them. “I’ll just grab a blanket.” You pass him again. He’s rigid as you do. You swipe up a blanket, nearly letting out a whine as you bend over, and sweep it around your shoulders. “Much better,” you sigh. 

“That’s not right. How much do you pay for this place and they’re controlling the heat?” He scoffs. 

“Steve,” you give him a look. “I have a roof over my head and walls. That’s a lot for some people.” 

“And for you?” 

You look at him and raise your brows, “kinda.” 

“Right,” he accepts flatly. “Well, you sit down. I’ll make the tea.” 

“It’s my place--” 

“And I’m your friend. Let me just do something nice for you,” he says. “Since it’s too much to ask that you do something nice for yourself.” 

“Are you... mad?” You wince. 

Your heart lurches. Even if you know it’s just Steve, that he won’t be the same, you’re nervous. You don’t like anger. You clutch the blanket and draw it tight, shrinking down defensively. 

He looks at you and forces the stone from his jaw. He exhales and lets his shoulder relax. His eyes soften, “no, I’m concerned. That’s all.” 

“Well, you don’t need to be,” you sniffle. “Thanks for the tea.” 

You turn and go to the couch. You sit and wring the blanket in your hands. It’s not like it was. You’re safe. You’re far away. You don’t need to be like this. Yet, you are. When a car backfires, when a voice is raised, when you think you see a shadow in the corner of your eye...  

But Steve won’t hurt you. He’s trying to protect you because that’s what he does. It’s too much. You don’t deserve that. He has too many other people to worry about. 

[the-omega-artist]

“The Two of Us”

Acrylic.

[meowsszzzz]

[raggedypina]

My beautiful friend Alice (tall) and little me (a gremlin), on our way to eat pizza and gossip like two old ladies ♡

@alicealmost