#nomad steve rogers fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frostironfudge · 2 years ago

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I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.

Won together.

Lost together.

In the past few days died together.

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.

Wanda looks down at her hands.

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.

“I know, I did too.”

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.

“Wh-what?”

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.

You stand there dumbfounded.

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated

that about the company’s past.

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.

Opening it reveals a burner phone.

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.

Opening the text.

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”

“So confident.” You raise your brows.

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”

No one nods.

Nick shakes his head leaving the room.

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.

Nat and Sam stare at you.

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.

His mouth opens again to speak.

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.

People trickle in and out.

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.

Finally it's just the two of you.

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.

“You lied?” You repeat.

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”

The doors open to your floor, you step out.

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.

Mixed training was now mandatory.

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.

You grin at him.

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y/N.”

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.

Sam takes his arm away.

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”

You glare at him, “Alright.”

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.

You frown in recognition.

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him?

Why do you miss him?

He hurt you.

He lied.

He hurt you.

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.

Your palms cover his, you look up at him.

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.

“Poppet, something is wrong.”

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?

Why was he falling to his knees?

You look behind him, people standing and watching.

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.

Steve keeps his eyes closed.

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.

“Steve—,”

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.

“I see and why is she yours?”

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.

“You can’t have him at risk again!”

“I won’t let you die!”

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.”

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.

“He’s in the United Kingdom.”

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.

When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

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anonymityisfunwriter · 5 months ago

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There Is No Coming Back From This (In Progress)

Summary: "Don't do this, Tony. Don't do whatever it is you're about to do. This isn't what she would want."

Tony whips around to his former friend. "You don't get to tell me what she would want - I'm her father. I need to protect her. I can - I can protect her from this."

Steve looks on with remorse, offering only a slight shake of his head. "It's her time, Tony. She's tired. She wants to rest."

"Don't give me that," Tony snaps, chucking the wrench in his hand. "I can fix this!"

"It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

Characters: Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Chapter 1 - There Is No Coming Back From This Chapter 2 - The Beginning of The End Chapter 3 - An Old Friend Chapter 4 - An Apple From The Same Tree Chapter 5 - On The Road Again Chapter 6 - Caught You Chapter 7 - A Difference of Opinion Chapter 8 -???

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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averizz · 11 days ago

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natasha romanoff in iron man 2 and steve rogers in infinity war. send tweet.

#marvel cinematic universe #marvel #black widow #capwidow #natasha romanoff #romanogers #steve rogers #captasha #steve x natasha #stevenat #avengers endgame #avengers cartoon #the avengers #avengers infinity war #captain america #nomad steve #mcu fandom #romanogers fic #so hot and sexy

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georgiapeach30513 · 10 months ago

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Steve Rogers x me 🙋‍♀️ number 32 or 50 please

Oh!! I love this one so much, but...just don't hate me with this.

There Goes My Life

Summary: just one last time

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, a smidge of dirty talk, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.2K

Series Masterlist

He sighs as his blue eyes peer at your sleeping form. You never listened. It was too easy for him to get in through your window, and just gaze at you while you sleep. He warned you that there was a target on your back. Especially the moment you left SHIELD. It just didn’t seem right anymore. Not without Steve, and not knowing what you now know.

You look peaceful, which is more than what he can say for himself. Your windows seem smaller now, or maybe it was just because he felt he could never get too close to you. The picture of the two of you still sits beside your bed, and he feels an ache in his chest as you cling to his pillow. By now his scent would have worn off considering how you had your face buried into it.

“Cap, you have a short window. I’ll buy you some more time. Enjoy your girl.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he whispers, leaning over to remove his boots. If he didn’t have this need to hold you and enjoy you while he could, he would tell you how stupid it was to leave your window unlocked. But he also knew why.

You are also painfully aware that Steve had someone watch your place. Everything changed in such a short time. You didn’t think he would be coming back, much less as often as he did.

Removing his suit, he lets the mess of what was Captain America drift into your floor. Fully naked, and for a reason, he lifts the blanket on his side, and slides in. His eyes rake over your beautiful sleeping face. There wasn’t enough time for him to just watch you, but he did it all the same. He missed you so much it hurt. So much that he couldn’t even focus on the task at hand because he was waiting on you to tell him what to do. But this isn’t SHIELD, and you no longer were in his ear.

Your full lashes flutter with his warm breath. Your body sidles up to his even more. He’s so proud of you, even in your sleep you knew it was him. He reaches to pull the pillow from your grasp, wanting you to use him instead when your sleepy eyes blink away the clouds from your vision.

“Steve?”

“Shh,” he whispers, his nose pressing up against yours. Every moment with him is bittersweet because you know he’ll be off somewhere else before you wake up again. Leaving you feeling like everything was only a figment of your imagination.

Your lashes flutter close as you absorb his warmth. His breath. And when his lips press against your trembling ones. “Sugar,” he pleads, but you don’t want to waste time. Each time he visited you felt like it would be the last time, and that killed you inside. “Stop.”

“Steve, just take me. Make me forget that you won’t be here in the morning.”

“You make me feel like the biggest asshole.”

“Language, Captain,” he chuckles on your lips. Hoisting his body to hover over yours. His legs positioned in between your own, and he slides his apart as he sinks lower over you. His silky steel cock, lays over your bare mound, and you shutter at the feeling.

“I really hate that you were privy to that moment.”

“Why’s that?” You tease as he grips his length in one hand and runs it through your slick.

“Because every time I growl out filth in your ears, I want them to be your words only. Because even though you hold your head up high, and you look so regal walking into SHIELD, you’re my dirty little slut.”

“Your dirty little slut wishes that you would just fuck her…ahh,” you gulp as his thick veiny member plunges into your depths. Fully sheathing himself into your wet heat, and his weight settles on yours. It is the best kind of smothering. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you so much,” he grunts as his hips piston in and out of your walls. Pushing and pulling into every bit of you. Molding the two of you together again, and you hope that this was the normal. That you didn’t have to wait months until you got to feel him again. That this was a bad dream, and Steve wasn’t an enemy of the country.

You focus on the way his body cages around yours and how the two of you had so many beautiful plans. Feel only the way his thicker body made you feel so small. The tickle of his beard as he nips along your neck. You swear every part of him got thicker. And it made you more needy for him.

You took every bit of his hard and deep thrusts because your body was made for him. Nobody pulled out the sounds from your lips. There was nobody else you trusted the way you trusted him. In a different world you and Steve would have already been married, and have a baby on the way. He would have given up this fight with the Avengers just to live a normal life.

But those dreams weren’t reality. Now it was a dream that the man you love was becoming so feral with the limited time he had with you. His hands slam on the headboard above you, and his hips stab into you with so much force you start to see stars. This is how he always ended things. He wanted to make sure you almost passed out with pleasure and pressure.

His thrusts make the picture frames rattle on the walls. Your hands cling to his wide hips as you feel yourself start to go blank. Damn this beautiful man. He couldn’t even bear to say goodbye. The solution was to fuck you stupid. Fuck him.

You try and hold on. See the image of Steve gritting his teeth as he forces his orgasm away. Waiting on you to succumb to your exhaustion. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your walls clench down tight around his cock, and he gets a few more ruts into you before ribbons of hot thick cum fill your belly up.

He stutters his movement as he watches your head lull to the side, and he hates himself for doing this. Hates having to be so careful. There is nothing he wants more than to bask in your silky walls all day. He pulls himself out of you, and smiles when you sleepily whimper at the loss of him.

Giving himself just a moment to stare at your gaping cunt leaking of him. “Captain, it’s time. We gotta be careful.”

He leaves you laying there, but covers you back up. Leaving behind the scent of him on your sheets, and the regret that things aren’t different. This had to be the last time. He was putting you into too much danger. Slowly he’d call the eye from watching you. He’d let you go because that’s how much he loved you.

“I’m always careful,” he says, slipping back into his suit.

But this time — he wasn’t…..

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87

#there goes my life #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fics #nomad!steve

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angelkhi · 2 years ago

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love me, hate me - s.r

summary: steve rogers pisses you off, and you piss him off. but is it really ever that simple?

warnings: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), p in v, switch steve & reader, face sitting, unprotected sex, talks of bodily fluids, enemies to lovers a little bit, slight hate fucking but also not?? feelings at the end sort of.

word count: 2.8.k

a little note: Happy New Year to you all! finished this at 4 am so not beta’d any mistakes are my own (seriously i just spelled mistakes as ‘mestayks’ so like sorry lol) half based on this request but also something i already had in the works that seemed to mesh xx

"Let's not forget who's doing who a favour." You chide, already irritated by presence.

"Please sweetheart, I'm doing you more of a favour than you realise."

"And how's that Mr Rogers?" You fix his crooked tie. Always picking up after him.

"You walk in there with me? There's no way you're going home alone tonight." He smooths out the collar on his shirt, checking himself over in the mirror. "Your little problem gets solved."

"My little problem?"

"Don't get me wrong, Yels, it's great doing it yourself but it would be nice for someone give me an orgasm every now and then."

"You fuckin pig! You were listening to my conversation?" You're embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. If there's one person that doesn't need to know about your dwindling sex life it's Steve Rogers.

"It's kinda hard not to overhear yours and Yelena's screeching on girls night." Once again those fingers fly up into quotation marks and you have to blink yourself free from the daze you're slipping into.

Maybe Steve does have a point, you're significantly louder after a bottle or two of rose, but it doesn't give him the right to use your own words against you.

"You're a dick, Rogers. It's none of your fucking business how many orgasms I have." He's smirking down at you now, something in his eyes you've never seen before. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to have to see your face any longer than necessary."

The two of you enter the ballroom together as planned, and heads turn almost instantly. The quiet gasps and turning heads boost his scolded ego more than nicely. But that's all it is. A soothing bandage over a painful wound.

Stark's infamous shindigs that rivalled even the most grand of galas, yet you are the only thing that matters to him in a room filled with expensive champagne and extravagant sculptures. He watches you from across the room, Bucky's latest debrief on Sam's irritating behaviour blending into the mindless background chatter.

You're done up to the nines, pretty hair twisted in some intricate up-do, and that dress. That fucking dress. He wonders if things would be easier if you knew how he really felt about you, that the trading of insults between the two of you is the only way he can resist pinning you against every available surface and fucking the attitude out of you.

You work your charm with everyone that comes up to you, offering you drinks and boring conversation. You know you're in charge, so do they, and so does he.

He spots you talking to a pretty redhead he soon recognises as Wanda, she's changed since he last saw her. But he much more notices the lingering stares and flirtatious touches, the way you lean into each other and laugh a little too loud. Jealousy is no longer a green eyed monster, but a blonde haired, blue eyed super soldier.

You happen to glance over at him in that moment, taking in his tensed jaw and white-knuckle grip on his champagne flute, expecting it to shatter under any more force. He watches as you smirk in his direction, and the go back to the conversation like he wasn't even there. Sam and Bucky pull him away to a conversation that is meant to be important and he loses sight of you for the rest of the evening.

The party starts to get a little too lively towards 11pm, the rowdy crowd excited about the looming new year. You find yourself at the bar, sick of your uncomfortable shoes, ready to get more than drunk, kiss a bottle at midnight and fall into bed with your vibrator once again. Someone slides into the empty seat next to you, speaking to the bar tender. You catch the 'and whatever she's having' and roll your eyes just wanting to be left alone at this point.

Your double vodka and cranberry is slid in front of you and you take a single sip before turning to the man next to you. He's attractive, with his full beard and long brown hair. There's something in his eyes but you don't care enough to find out that much about him. He shakes your hand firmly, introducing himself as Quentin Beck. You smile and thank him when he compliments you, you hum and nod when he tells you about his latest technological venture that sounds weirdly similar to Tony's, you smile coyly when he rests a hand on your thigh and offers to take you somewhere a little less private.

You're silently disappointed that this is the best you could do on a night like tonight but you're not one to look a fort horse in the mouth. He guides you through the crowd with a hand around your waist until the function room doors come into view and your excitement dims even further. Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he stares at Quentin and then his hand on your waste.

"Hey honey." He wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, stopping you in your tracks. He stares down at you for a second too long, then diverts his gaze to Beck.

"Fuck off." Two words. Two are all it takes for Quentin to crumble.

His hand moves from your waist faster than you can blink and he's already being swallowed up by the crowd when you turn away from glaring at Steve. His fingers linger around your wrist but you shrug him off, and leave the grand ballroom stomping down to the elevator.

He follows you of course, right up to your door, pushing inside when you try and slam it in his face.

"Honey that guy was a creep."

"Don't 'honey' me you just ruined my one good chance of getting laid tonight." You kick off your shoes.

"Well I wouldn't call it a good chance..."

"What was that?!" You're about to fiddle with the zip of your dress but instead steve has your attention and an insane amount of audacity.

"M'just saying he wouldn't have been worth it." He pauses, sitting on your bed uninvited. "Doesn't look like he can find his car keys let alone please a woman."

"I guess I'll never know now." You scoff.

"Use me instead."

What in the sweet baby jesus?!

"How much have you had to drink?" You chuckle, and go back to working your zip.

"You know I can't get drunk. How much have you had to drink?" He retorts, reaching up to undo the zipper for you.

"Not enough for this to be a hallucination. What's in it for you?"

"An orgasm." Fair enough.

"Why are you doing this? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to apologise for ruining your New Years hook up." He looks sincere, but then Steve never lies. You on the other hand, would be lying if you said you didn't want to jump his bones at least twenty three and a half of the twenty four hours in the day. And he's offering himself to you on a golden platter. Why turn. it down?

"Strip."

It's a simple word, but it holds so much power. Starting something that may just fucking ruin you. But you want it. He wants it. The easy route be damned. Steve is quick to discard his clothing, looking up at you expectantly waiting for your next request. You simply just let your dress drop, carefully stepping over the expensive fabric and slotting yourself between Steve's legs. His eyes widen when he realises you'd neglected to put on any underwear that evening. She reaches out to touch you, rest a hand on your hip but you slap it away.

"Lay back." You kneel over his hips, excitement fizzling on your skin as he rests on his elbows, taking up an insane amount of space with his broad shoulders and wide thighs. He doesn't move any further, a sly smirk on his lips and wonder in his eyes.

"I said I don't want to see your face, lie the fuck back." You have him under your thumb, and your pussy, when he lays back against the cotton sheets you crawl across his body and rest above his face. His hands grip onto the backs of your thighs, usually light eyes dark with lust.

"No touching." You thread his arms above him, resting forward and pinning them against the pillows. His response is muffled when you lower yourself onto his face. His tongue works wonders when he's not using it to talk and you definitely prefer it when he's not talking.

You grind yourself down against his pliant tongue, clit bumping his stupidly perfect nose with each thrust. You're taking what you deserve from him, what he owes you and you fucking love it. You love the fact that he could easily slip you underneath him, pin you beneath him and pull you apart but instead he's letting you use him, letting you grind yourself to an orgasm on his face.

"You're not so useless after all Rogers, fucking hell." His lips purse around your exposed clit and your thighs shake a little. You press yourself further against him, chasing your well deserved orgasm until you're panting above him half spent.

Lifting yourself off of him, you take in his flushed cheeks and blown out eyes. God he's pretty. Your hand strokes through his hair and he leans into your touch. Putty in your hands.

You reach back, your hands almost dwarfed by the impressive size of his pretty cock. You struggle to wrap your hands around him fully, but when you start stroking him slow but firm it doesn't matter. His face twists into one of pure bliss and his hips fuck up into your fist desperately. Deciding enough is enough you manoeuvre down his body, hovering over his painfully hard weeping cock. You drag him through your folds, almost slipping him in before bumping his engorged head against your clit until you're right on the edge of desperation and finally sink down on him.

You take him slowly at first, unable to stay quiet as he stretches you open. There's a slight sting but my god does it sting so good. Once he's fully sheathed you take a moment to accommodate, grinding down on him, twin moans coming from the two of you. You raise yourself up again, right to the tip and back down, slowly building the rhythm until you're bouncing on his cock, hitting spots you didn't even know existed panting for breath.

"You feel so fucking good." You whimper chasing your own pleasure, fuelled by Steve's. He fists the bedsheets, so obedient trying not to touch you, but you look so pretty and broken and you're touching yourself whilst you ride him, clenching down on his dick so fucking perfectly. He's more vocal than. you expected, grunting and moaning and whining.

"Fuck I'm gonna come. Steve." Your fingers roll your taught nipples between your fingers, pinching and pulling. Steve's hips stutter for a moment, but then he's right there with you, fucking up into your perfect cunt until you're shaking on his dick, grinding your clit against his pubic bone and falling over the edge.

He doesn't give you a second to breath, wrapping his strong arms around you and placing you flat on your back. You're breathless, your vision is still fuzzy but then he's pounding into you. Lifting your leg above his shoulder opening you up up to him even more. You're well and truly fucked. Not a single word or thought or even sound registering. You're just wide eyed and open mouthed and taking what he gives you.

"Not so cocky now are we, hmm sweetheart." His thumb flicks your clit once and you're coming all over again, a loud scream echoing off of the walls.

"There she is. So fucking perfect, taking what you need. Did I do well, did I satisfy your greedy pussy or do you still want more?"

"St-Steve. More." You sound so broken, so unalike yourself but you never want to go back to her when you can be this.

"Course you fuckin do. Play with your tits for me, that's a good girl." He thrusts slow but deep, your weak legs held in position by his huge hands. He relishes in your flushed face and smudged makeup. Your hair has foregone the confines of bobby pins and it's splayed out on the cushion behind you. You're fucking perfect.

"Who's cunt is this?" Your eyes lull into the back of your head when he delivers a quick sharp tap to your clit. "Tell me who's cunt it is and I'll let you cum."

"Y-Yours. Yours Steve."

"Good. And who's fuckin dick is this tearing you apart?" It's all too much, you're on the verge of crying from the overstimulation. "Who's is it?"

"Mine."

"Good fucking girl." He punctuates his words with his thrusts, picking up speed once more and rubbing small quick circles against your clit. Your tears do spill then, dark mascara running down your cheeks when you explode all over him.

He fucks you through the orgasm, pulling out of you when you begin to claw at his chest, leaving pretty marks all over him. He kneels over you, furiously stroking himself to completion until he cums in long white ropes all over your breasts, chest heaving and panting. He collapses next to you, silent as you try to catch your breaths and wrap your head around what just happened.

It shouldn't surprise you when Steve gets up to the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth, but it does. It leaves you stunned. You try not to show it though, nor do you give him a glimpse at how disappointed you are about leaving.

"Damn Rogers, you really know how to hate fuck." Steve's gaze is frantic, but mostly confused.

"Hate? I don't hate you." His eyebrows are pulled together so tightly you're scared they might just fuse into one another.

"Could've fooled me." You pull up your underwear and pull on his shirt foregoing the tight dress.

"Look. I don't. Hate. You. Do you get on my nerves? Sometimes. But I could never hate you."

"So what? You wanna call the way you've treated me since I got here a proclamation of your undying love." He's silent. "You can't be fucking serious Rogers."

"Don't be like that, you gave just as good as you got." You scoff, but it's the truth. "Every time I look at you I want to fuck you, every time I see someone even look at you I wanna fuckin... I don't know!"

"Steve..."

"You terrify me. I have all these feelings for you, but you're so... you. You're so gorgeous, you're potty mouth and you're strong and you don't take shit from no one, not even me. I'm an idiot, I know that and I don't expect a sorry to fix anything, but I need you to know that that wasn't a one time thing, I want you."

"Well fuck. You have feelings for me?" He nods, simple, effective and oh so Steve Rogers. "I thought. I don't know what I though. I walked in here and you just stared at me and left, and I guess I though you took one look at me and decided I wasn't enough. So I decided I was gonna prove you wrong."

"I think you're everything. You've certainly proved me right." He looks angry, at himself at and the situation, but mostly at the fact that you'd ever thought those things about yourself.

"Right pair of idiots we are." You mutter, trying to lighten the you're-not-sure-what mood. He pulls you into his lap, rough hand resting around your waist.

"Aren't we just." He whispers against your lips.

"How many people did you tell to fuck off tonight? Just out of interest."

"Bout 15." He mumbles and then laughs, "don't regret a single one of them though."

You surge forward and press against him. His lips are softer than expected and his movements are so slow, so tentative. You arch into him, greed driving your need to make up for the last few wasted months.

A loud bang erupts from outside of the glass windows, popping into a concoction of golds and reds and pinks, until the New York skyline is littered with individual fireworks displays.

"Happy New Year Rogers." You whisper against his lips, though it turns into a breathless whimper when he pulls your panties to the side. "You get on my nerves too by the way. Like a whole lot."

"Yeah yeah. Happy New Year."

#chris evans #marvel #marvel smut #smut #avengers endgame #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers #nomad steve #chris evans smut #steve rogers fic rec #mcu smut #captain america smut #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america #marvel fic

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 8 months ago

Text

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key.

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding.

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone.

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him.

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him.

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls.

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright.

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van.

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows.

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg.

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth.

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away.

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.”

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?”

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard.

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium @delicatecapnerd

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year ago

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Birthday Gifts

AN: So Alpha Nomad Steve won the birthday ficlet poll. Enjoy the fluff, which also means that this set of stories is officially a series now. Find Need You Now and Surprise, Surprise here.

Beta’d at speed by @indyluckycharlie

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me

Master list

Series Master list

Summary: It’s Steve’s birthday and you have the perfect gift all ready

Relationship: Alpha! Nomad Steve and Omega! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: Breeding Kink, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of kissing, Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy, labour and delivery.

28th June

“Steve, I’m as big as a house!”

Your Alpha wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your neck and the slightly scarred flesh to be found there.

“A sexy house.”

You playfully slapped his arm and let out an equally playful cry.

“Hey! I’m not gonna disagree with you. That would be dangerous to my health.”

You couldn’t help it. You giggled. Which had probably been his intention.

“Big, strong Captain America, scared of a pregnant Omega?”

He rubbed his bearded face against your neck again, inhaling your scent.

“Only because you’re my Omega.”

You turned in his arms, your large baby bump - a bump that you now knew did hold twins - getting in your way. Luckily Steve knew what you wanted and ducked his head down to kiss you.

Although you had a few weeks until your due date, the fact that you were carrying twins meant they were probably going to show up sooner, rather than later. But it was Steve’s birthday in a week, and you hoped they’d wait until afterwards - you’d hate to miss his birthday by being in hospital.

Once the shock of being reunited and the reveal of your pregnancy had worn off, Steve had revelled in your situation. His Alpha hindbrain preened at the fact that his Omega was pregnant, and if he’d had voracious appetites before, your rounding belly just made him insatiable.

When you were too tired to do anything, he just asked you to lie naked in front of him and he’d jack off, praising you, looking at you, covering your bump with his spend, before cleaning you up, and kissing you until you fell asleep in his arms.

However, when you did have the energy, he liked to perch you on top of him, so you could control the depth and speed. His broad hands held your hips, helping you move - grind - until you came. There’d still be the praises though, the electric gaze, and the aftercare.

Steve deepened the kiss, and then suddenly he lifted you up into his arms. You squeaked and clung onto him, and he let out a low growl in response that went straight to your core. You were glad you weren’t feeling tired today.

July 1st

Your hands held onto the headboard, curling your fingers into the wood as you swivelled your hips.

“Alpha!” You whined as you neared your peak.

“I know, ‘Mega. You can do it, baby. Look so beautiful when you cum. I’ll be right there with you.”

Steve’s right hand dropped from your hip and his thumb delved between your folds, searching out your slick bud and rubbing tight circles over it. The tension in your body snapped like a rubber band and you threw your head back, keening as you trembled above him. His hips thrust up gently under you and you could feel his engorged knot brushing your entrance, and you wished you could take him deep enough to feel it inside you. He groaned with you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, filling you to the brim with his cum.

As you drew in ragged breaths, your arms shook under the exertion of holding yourself up. Sensing your weariness, Steve helped manoeuvre you so you were lying on your side on the bed. He pressed a kiss to your sweaty brow before darting to the bathroom and coming back with a wet washcloth. He wiped down your face and chest, before gently cleaning you between your legs.

You smiled up at him.

“I must look a complete mess.”

He dropped another kiss on you, this time to your lips and shook his head.

“Nope. I meant what I said - you look beautiful. I don’t think I could want you more, and then I remember that once the babies are here you’ll be a certified MILF.”

You grabbed your pillow and threw it at him, but he easily avoided it.

“Perv!”

He dropped down, facing you, tangling your legs together and dropping an arm over your thickened waist.

“Only for you, Omega. Only for you.”

He kissed you again, deeply this time, and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.

July 4th

You groaned, and rolled over, an outstretched hand reaching for your phone to check the time. The screen lit up, bathing your face in its glow and mocking you with its answer.

1:17

You let out another groan and shifted, trying to get comfortable. It was Steve’s birthday today and you were determined it was going to be a good one. If only this damn backache would calm down. You closed your eyes and willed your body to relax, which is of course when the twins decided to start up a kicking war with each other, with you caught in the crossfire.

You rubbed your palm over your bump, trying to calm them.

“Quit it, you two.” You kept your voice low, but having an Alpha with enhanced senses means that it didn’t matter how quiet you were. A hair covered arm, corded with muscle came over your bump and pulled you close to the human furnace connected to it.

“They causing you problems, ‘mega?” His voice was roughened from sleep as he pressed his lips to your mating scar.

“Just waltzing around in there.” You suddenly winced and rubbed your hand over your belly again. “Okay, that was a little hard. I’ll be having words with them when they come out. Let’s try and go back to sleep, so we can enjoy your birthday later on.”

You turned your head over your shoulder to give Steve a brief kiss, and then snuggled back against him, pulling the comforter up and hoping the heat from his body would soothe your back ache.

You woke up a few hours later as the sun started to rise, golden rays finding the gap between the curtains of Steve’s - your - compound apartment. Your back was still killing you and the twins were obviously headbutting your bladder. You were glad that your last scan showed both were head down, but sometimes you couldn’t make it 10 minutes between toilet visits.

You carefully pulled yourself from bed, noting that the time was only 4:33. At some point Steve had rolled away from you, and the comforter was tangled around his legs. The early morning sun lit up the hairs on his body with a golden sheen and you smiled to yourself, before waddling off to the bathroom at the insistence of your unborn children. By the time you’d finished and washed up, despite still being tired, you were too awake to go back to bed.

You slowly made your way from the bedroom to the small living room cum kitchen of Steve’s compound apartment. You got yourself a glass of water and took two tylenol, hoping to ease your backache. You then moved towards the TV, snagging the throw from the back of the sofa and rolling your birthing ball out from the wall with your foot. Settling down on the bouncy rubber, the throw draped around your shoulders, you switched on the TV, making sure the volume was down low, and started to channel hop. There was bound to be some kind of mind-numbing rubbish on that you could while away the hours with. Then you’d have a nice nap.

At 7am you were resigned to the fact that you weren’t getting a nap, and you had a sinking feeling that all your plans for today were getting put on hold.

Normally, Steve would have been up an hour ago, to get in his morning run, but he’d agreed to forego the alarm this morning, accepting your suggestion that he have a lie in. Theoretically you should still be there with him, ready to help him out when awoke, but it appeared that the universe, and your twins, had other plans.

You were walking laps of your living room and trying not to accept the fact that your backache and slight twinges had morphed into the early stages of labour when a painful tightening of your womb caused you to moan out loud. Before the sensation had even fully passed, Steve was by your side, an arm around your back and the other holding your hand. There was a look of panic on his sleepy face.

“Are you okay, baby? What’s going on?”

You raised an eyebrow and swayed from side to side, the movement helping to ease your discomfort.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m 35 weeks pregnant with twins. What do you think is happening?”

He looked at you and you looked at him, watching as the realisation hit him. The panic on his face didn’t lessen any. In fact, it seemed to get more intense.

“They’re coming? Now? We need to get you to the med facility!” He dropped your hand and ran back to the bedroom, still talking. You rolled your eyes and restarted your perambulations.

“We need your bag, and the pups’ bag. And my bag. I need to call Buck. And Sam. And Tony…”

He reappeared, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull his sweatpants up the other leg.

“Should I carry you? Or do you want to walk? Maybe we could do both? Oh, and you have to remember to breathe, and…”

“Steve. Alpha. Please shut up.”

He came to a grinding halt, watching you as you walked around him.

“It’s not that time yet, Steve. I spoke to the doctor about this last week. I need to wait until the contractions are regularly 2-3 minutes apart or until my waters break, whichever happens first. We’ve probably got hours to go yet. Now, relax, will you? Make your phone calls and get the bags near the door, but as the med facility is only on the other side of the compound, I don’t think we need to worry about getting there.”

Steve shook himself from his panicked stupor and moved back to your side, taking your hand and joining you in your circuit of the room.

“How are you so calm, Omega?”

You stopped and tugged on his hand to make him bend down so you could press your lips to his.

“Because I’m built for this, and because I will have the best Alpha by my side, supporting me. And let’s face it, if I’m squeezing your hands later, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The mental image made him laugh and he kissed you back.

“Bring it on, baby. Do your worst.”

20:05

“I’m never letting you and your knot near me ever again, Rogers! Aaaahhhh!”

You were on your hands and knees on the bed in the medical facility. One of Steve’s hands was trapped under yours - you weren’t letting him go anywhere! - and you were swaying back and forth as another contraction washed through you.

There was a midwife - Penny, a calming Beta - standing at the end of the bed, keeping an eye on proceedings, although to your mind she’d spent longer placating Steve’s fears than helping you through labour.

“I’m sorry, Omega. But you’re doing so well. And it will all be worth it when the pups are here. It won’t be long now.” He turned and looked behind you, towards Penny. “Will it?”

“No, in fact, Twin A is almost ready to be here, their head is starting to crown.” You turned your own head to look at her and she smiled at you. “So with this next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can, okay. And Mr Rogers, I need you to hold up that water bottle so Mama can take sips when she wants.”

It was a good thing your mate was a military man, because he didn’t hesitate, and just did what had been asked of him. You didn’t have long to appreciate it, however, as your next contraction hit.

“Here we go,” Penny said, brightly. “Give me a nice big push…

“What time is it, Steve?” You were exhausted, your eyes heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. Your Alpha turned away from the window, where he was watching the fireworks explode across the sky. In his arms was a wrapped bundle with a scrunched up nose. An almost matching bundle was in the bassinet next to you.

Sarah and Joseph, after Steve’s parents.

“Just after 10pm. You should get some rest, Omega mine. I can’t believe how well you did. You made it look easy.”

You gave out a little snort.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t. And I’ll get some rest in a moment. But I need you to come here.” You held out your hand, beckoning him over. With baby Sarah in his arms, he perched on the edge of your bed, the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. You pushed yourself up and pulled him into a kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you liked your presents.”

“The best presents I could ever wish for, Omega. Thank you.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#alpha!steve x omega!reader #alpha!steve rogers #nomad!steve #nomad steve x reader #late writes #Steve Rogers birthday #steve rogers fluff #pregnancy fic

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ronearoundblindly · 4 months ago

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Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday.

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—”

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?”

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #nomad steve #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x female reader #steve x reader #hideout series #touchstarved!Steve #touchstarved mc #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff

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rogersideup · 1 year ago

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 18

Good Luck Charm

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Endgame

Word Count: 9,856

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Your slippers shuffled against the ground as you stepped outside onto the porch. With a big blanket around your shoulders and a warm mug in each hand, you walked up to Steve who had been sitting on the love seat all by himself for about half an hour now.

His eyes were fixed on the wooden deck railing, but fondly found your face as you approached in all your comfortable glory.

"A hot latte for the hottie?" You said, handing him a mug of foamy, vanilla goodness.

His smile spread as fast as his cheeks blushed. "Thank you, baby doll."

"Anything for you."

After his gentle hands grabbed the mug from yours, you set your own coffee down for a moment sit next to him and wrap the blanket around both of your shoulders. He was quick to eat up your company, and shuffle closer to you for warmth.

It was that weird time of year where mornings and nights were cold, but midday was blazing. You were well equipped with leggings and a hoodie with thick warm socks that Steve was quite jealous of, while he was in a T-shirt and joggers. But your blanket, body heat, and the hot coffee warmed his body and his heart.

It had been a few days since half of humanity returned, and you were trying to find a good balance of giving him the space he needed to process the events and grieve his friends, time to reconnect with Bucky, all while trying to make sure you were there for him.

As of now it looked like cuddles and long conversations before bed, you sneaking off and working from 4 in the morning to around 2 in the afternoon, then coming home usually to an empty house since the two boys were out doing whatever Steve's and Bucky's do, then the three of you would have dinner together and you'd be back off to bed.

But today was different. You decided not to work at the bakery today because you knew Bucky was going to go tour apartments near by to see if maybe there was a place worth staying near his best friend for, and Steve would be on his own otherwise. Though he was perfectly capable of getting through a hard time on his own, it was always easier when the two of you were together.

With you settled next to him, his eyes fixed right back to where they were before. You thought he was looking out into the neighborhood, until your eyes caught glimpse of a tiny little creature. A spider spinning a web. Not just any spider, but an all black spider with a small red shape on its back.

A black widow.

You immediately understood where his brain was and what it was thinking about, you didn't even have to exchange words when he knew you saw it too. Together you just sat, sipped, and thought about your dear friend. But the more you thought, the more your heart hurt for Steve, so your mug was sat on the floor once again so you could wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him closer.

Your actions made him grin, and his hand found your thigh. It squeezed in appreciation.

"Way back when we fought Ultron, we all thought for a brief moment that all of us would die in Sokovia. When I brought up that possibility, all she said was that she would never find a prettier view anywhere else than being that high up in the sky." He finally broke the silence. "I was admittedly a little scared, and she was calm as could be. Using her skills to make a positive difference in the world was all she thought she had. She was okay with dying as long as it was at the hands of the greater good."

You nodded, acknowledging that you were listening but understanding he probably wasn't looking for a response yet.

"Clint told us she seemed completely at peace with her decision, like there was no second question. She knew that's what she wanted. She died for the greater good. I've always been scared of dying in battle for any reason. I made peace with it, I accepted that it could happen, but I was always scared that it would. I know that's not what I want."

Now, you knew what this conversation was about. This is what's been looming over his head for months, the moment you knew was coming.

He finally said it.

"That's how I know I can't do this anymore." His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

Usually, those words coming from a lovers mouth were the worst words anyone could hear. But in this context, you were happy for him.

"I know you can't." You nodded with a sympathetic tone.

"You're not even going to ask me to clarify?" Steve questioned.

"I already know. I've always known." Your small, delicate smile brought him comfort. "Since the moment I found out that you were Captain America I've known two things to be true. The first one being that there was nothing you could do to scare me away, and the second being that your time in the suit was coming to an end."

"Seems like that came easier to you than it did to me." Steve noted, feeling lighter now that he's told you. "It's been looming over me for years, and it wasn't a choice I made lightly."

"Of course it wasn't." You agreed. "I've watched you quietly struggle with this since the day we met. All I've ever wanted for you was to find happiness."

"I had a sense of guilt giving it up, like people would die if I didn't keep doing this, but I know now that the truth is there was a time before me and there will be a time after me in which everyone manages just fine." He continued. "I've been at this for far longer than I think anyone expected, and I know it's time to pass the shield."

"I'm happy for you." You stated, your hand now playing with the hair on the back of his head. "I genuinely am. And I'm proud of you. I can't imagine any of your life has been easy, and choosing to try a new path that leads to an easier, more peaceful life is exactly what you've always deserved."

"I just want you to know I wouldn't have made this choice of it stopped me from taking care of us at any point." Steve stressed. "Our life together is now number one with no set backs. Please take this in the most humble and sincere way I could possibly say this, but a lack of income going forward is not anything we need to be concerned about. We're set, and any future kids we could possibly want are set."

You smiled at his words. "Honey, even if you had less than a dollar to your name, I'd still want you to make this choice. I also mean this very sincerely and humbly, but the bakery is doing really well. I would've been happy to make you a stay at home Dad."

"So this is it." Steve shrugged. "I'll go on one more mission to put the stones back exactly where they need to be, pass the shield over to Sam and be done. The last few days of being Captain America, then it'll be the first days of the rest of our lives."

"I've always thought Steve was cooler than Cap, by the way." You grinned, head landing on his shoulder.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." Steve giggled, snuggling further next to you. "Thank you for all of your support. It means a lot to me. You've put up with a lot to accommodate what I do. None of it when by without appreciation."

"You do a lot to support me too, at this point, I think the bakery would fall apart without you and all the little things you do for us. They add up, and it makes a massive impact on the way everyone functions and business flows." You reminded him. "We're a team, Love. I'll always have your back and I know you always have mine. I can't wait to see what this next chapter looks like for us."

"I don't think I could properly express how excited I am about it right now amidst all of this chaos, but if I think about it for too long I'll cry." Steve giggled.

"It's okay, I believe you." You smiled.

"And now that the ball is rolling on the bakery in New York, I just feel really hopeful that I'll be busy regardless of the fact that I'm unemployed now."

You laughed as you moved your arm down to hold his hand instead. "I think a life with me is a life with the bakeries. I don't think that's considered unemployment."

"Can I apply for a job at Nice to be Kneaded?" Steve joked. "It'll keep me busy."

"Sure thing, I'll forward you the email you can send in your resume and fill out an application."

"Ugh I'm never gonna get the job." Steve pouted.

"Why not?"

"I haven't updated my resume since 1942, and there's a 66 year gap." He explained. "And the owner of the bakery is so beautiful, I'm going to be fumbling over my words the entire interview!"

Your smile widened, as did the swell of your heart. "I actually know her, I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you, Sunflower, that would be great." He smiled and squeezed your hand.

"...Stevie?" You questioned softly.

"Hmm?"

"We don't have to kill it, but that spider can't stay there."

Steve chuckled at your words. "It is pretty terrifying, isn't it?"

"Does Captain America protect people against scary venomous spiders?"

"Oh... did you not just hear the whole 'I'm retiring' part of the conversation?" Steve joked.

"Okay... will my big, strong boyfriend protect me against the scary venomous spider?"

"...but.... I'm scared of spiders" his voice jumped up an octave or two, and lowered in volume earning your giggles.

"Maybe we can just burn the house down?" You suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that." Steve agreed with a big smile. "Or we can relocate it together"

"Awwww!" You cooed unenthusiastically. "How about we wait for Bucky to get back and he can help us?"

"That's the best idea yet"

"At least you have a big, strong boyfriend that'll relocate scary spiders for you!" You jokingly enthused.

Steve's jaw dropped, but his smile and giggles prevailed through his feigned display of betrayal. "You know what?! That spider is gonna come bite you!"

"Not under Bucky's watch, it won't" You laughed.

"It's gonna come all the way over here and crawl aaaalllllllllll the way up your arm" With his middle and index fingers, they climbed up your arm with a feathery light touch as to tickle you on purpose. Your laugh was music to his ears as his hand made it to your neck, then he started tickling right at the base of your shoulder on purpose. "And it's gonna bite you right here for being so mean to me!"

As if it was the most contagious disease known to man, your happiness and laughter seeped into his heart and soul, and just being near you had him feeling the same way. Faster than he could process, you were both laughing as he one-handedly tried to fight off your attempts at giving him spider bites through the tiniest, gentlest pinches he's ever felt in his life.

The two of you were too occupied in each others chaos to notice Georgia walking across the street for a chat. Admittedly, she also got lost in the scene happening in front of her.

Your arms flying at Steve as uncontrollable laughter and smiles flew past each other, Steve trying to block your swift hands with only one of his arms. Then, his mug slipped out of his other hand and splashed coffee all over his lap, onto the blanket, and the mug shattered onto the deck.

For a moment, Georgia recoiled, fully prepared to walk away when Steve inevitably got angry at you for the the loss of a mug and a perfectly good cup of coffee.

But instead, she was pleasantly surprised when there was a pause in all movement and laughter, both of you looked down at the mess all over Steve and the porch, then your eyes met each others again, and the two of you bursted out in even more laughter.

"Oh no! Was that hot? Are you okay?" Your hand grabbed into his upper arm, questioning between laughter. "I'm sorry!"

"Not hot, I'm fine." He chuckled, patting the top of your thigh twice. "Don't be sorry! Let me get rid of this broken glass real quick so you don't cut yoursel- oh. Hi, Georgia."

"Hi, sorry to interrupt." She slowly walked up the steps.

"Oh my goodness, how are you feeling?!" You questioned, feeling indifferent about her approaching you and Steve.

"A lot better. I just uh, I just wanted to come over and thank you guys for your help. I don't remember much of what happened but Adeline from two doors down told me about it. You had no reason to help, let alone bring flowers and check on on me multiple times. So, again, thank you."

"We had reason to help," Steve cut in, remembering your sad years over your strained relationship with your once dear friend. He was committed to making this work for you. "whether you believe it or not, we care about you."

"I certainly understand that now." Georgia nodded her head.

"How has Michael been since he's been back? Is he adjusting okay?" You asked, having felt worried about him since the snap.

"He's been alright, it's been a bit of a shock to him but that's to be expected. He was focused on taking care of me but now that I'm better I think he's really processing the events that took place." She explained. "Steve, I also heard you got injured pretty badly in battle. Are you alright?"

Her concern had over his well-being had him admittedly surprised. "I did get bit roughed up but I'm a lot better now, thank you."

"I owe you an overdue apology." Georgia sincerely stated. "All the years you've been here, I wildly misinterpreted your character. It's clear to me now that I let the media, and Michael's opinion of you get into my head at the time you found your way to Greenwood. You're a good man, and I can tell you're an even better guy for the sweetest little lady in the whole town. I can tell you two love each other very much, and I hope you understand I only ever wanted what was best for her."

"I appreciate your apology." Steve nodded. "I think we both agree and see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially only ever wanting what's best for this sweet girl. But I'm not the only one you owe an apology to."

"I agree." Georgia nodded. She approached you with small apprehensive steps, then squatted down in front of your seat and placed her hand over yours. "Baby girl, I'm sorry."

You nodded, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I am. Really, really sorry." She squeezed your hand. "You are and always have been one smart, tough cookie and I should've trusted you to make good choices for yourself. I was wrong. I'm happy you have him, and I'm proud of the life you've created for yourself. It makes me happy to see you doing well. It's obvious that you two love each other very much, and I'm sorry for not seeing that until now."

"Thank you" You accepted. Though you would love nothing more than to have things go back to the way it used to be, Steve has taught you a lot about only accepting what's of value to you. Though him, you learned that the bare minimum wasn't the only treatment you should accept in life. He picked your standards up off the floor and held them above the ground. If Georgia wanted a place back in your life, she would have to fight for it. "I love you, and care about you so much. I always have, and I always will. I think this is a good start to reestablishing our friendship, but you know it's gonna take some time?"

Though this challenge was one for her to face, Georgia was proud to see you finally setting healthy boundaries for yourself. The version of you that she was friends with many years ago was a chronic people pleaser who couldn't get any words to leave her mouth that could possibly be taken badly. This version of you was much different, and far more healed and healthy.

“Of course.” She nodded in understanding

Standing up and letting your hand go, she turned to Steve once more. "And Steve, thank you for your service. I really appreciate and respect what you put on the line to save everyone we lost."

"No problem." He nodded before Georgia walked off right back into her own house.

Silence fell between you two for a few moments after her front door closed, until you broke it. "I never thought that would happen."

“Neither did I.” Steve stared blankly across the street.

More silence.

"Do you think she still would've apologized if she knew we were housing Bucky for the time being?" You questioned.

"Some things are better left unsaid." Steve shrugged.

More silence.

"I've been sitting in a puddle of vanilla latte for 5 minutes." Steve stated.

Then your eyes met his, looked down at his lap that was drenched in coffee, then back up at his face.

Once again, you two bursted out into laughter.

After some scrubbing, googling how to get coffee stains out of clothes, a shower, and a load of laundry later, it was like the coffee incident never happened.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were back in New York for a handful of different reasons. The first being location scouting for the new bakery. You dragged Steve around the city for 3 full days with a contractor and a financial advisor, touring empty business slots. Steve kept joking that you were the Prince Charming of bakery owners, you had a theoretical glass slipper and if one of the buildings didn't perfectly fit, it was an automatic no.

But eventually you found the perfect new home for the bakery. And wildly enough, it was in Brooklyn. The entirety of your search, Steve would make a little half-joke half-serious remark that everything good in the city was in Brooklyn. Sure enough, the moment you stepped foot into building, it was an automatic yes. You signed the lease right then and there, and the contractor started taking measurements as you sat in a pretty office with floor to ceiling windows signing paper after paper.

The only person happier than you about this decision was Steve, who had pointed out that the apartment he used to live in with his mom was just down the block. He also told you about how in building the bakery would now be in, used to be a little bodega where him and his Mom would walk to just to buy marshmallow sandwich cookies.

It made you incredibly happy knowing that such a special place to Steve, where he already had fond memories of getting sweet treats would now turn into a whole new place full of even sweeter treats. You'd like to believe that somewhere out there, Sarah Rogers led you to this corner location just to make his boy happy.

That same day, after all the paperwork was done and your wrist hurt from signing the lease agreement, you and Steve walked hand and hand through the streets of Brooklyn. The two of you had done this together many times before, but each time unlocked a special memory for him, and it always made you happy to learn more about who he was before the war.

This time he walked you along the route he used to take on his bike when he worked as a paper boy to put himself through art school. You passed by the apartment he lived in immediately after his Mom died, and surprisingly enough, it looked exactly the same on the outside. Then, you did what had to be done.

Hand in hand, you walked into a bodega and found the marshmallow cookies. You'd never had them before, but apparently they were one of the most popular treats in the 30's and Sarah adored them. After buying a pack of them, ripping them open and doing a little cheers, you each took and bite of the two crunchy vanilla cookies with marshmallow fluff in the center.

You could see the nostalgia flooding his brain, and all you could do was smile. It was the sweetest celebration you could've ever wanted for such a momentous occasion.

Then, you two went upstate for Tony's funeral.

Steve told you over and over again that you didn't have to go. He knew it would be difficult for the Avengers, and even worse for Pepper and Morgan who you'd never met. You were here for work, and already taking time to support him on his last mission as Captain America, and he felt guilty taking even more of your time.

But as he zipped up the back of your black dress, and you straighten out his tie, you reassured him that you wouldn't miss it for the world. He needed you there even though he wouldn't admit it, and you wanted a chance to see the Avengers again, even under such a terrible circumstance.

The two of you stated the night near the cabin after the funeral. The lake was gorgeous, and the cabin you rented was beautiful. It was quiet, quaint, and Sam and Bucky stayed the night with you guys as well.

You could tell the day had taken an emotional toll on them, where the boys used to bounce off the walls when they were all together, they just sat and held conversation instead. One by one the boys knocked out. Steve was first, he fell asleep sitting next to you on the couch. His head fell lnto your shoulder and his face nuzzled into his neck. Then Bucky lost the battle on the arm chair, leaving just you and Sam chatting for hours.

Conversation came easy between you, and you really enjoyed talking to him. You even got a little sad knowing that it was getting late, and Steve had a big day in the morning so you had to cut the conversation off and get him to bed.

Then, the monumental day came.

Steve's last mission.

He expected to have a lot of sadness letting go of such a monumental part of his life, but as he suited up for the very last time he looked in the mirror and felt like he barely even recognized the reflection anymore.

Your arms snaked around his stomach from behind and you rocked forward onto your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before looking at him through the mirror. Only then did he feel like himself again.

"Lookin' good, Baby." Your cheeky smile made an appearance. "Feelin' good?"

"Surprisingly, yes." He responded with a grin, his half gloved hands held onto your arms. "I'm excited to get it over with, so ready to turn a new page."

"I think Sam is going to be honored. You're making a really good choice passing him the mantle." You reassured.

"I think so too." He grinned.

"One last picture before you go?" You asked.

"Whatever you want." He agreed.

Like a proud Mom, you took a few pictures of the two of you through the mirror, and a few of just him. Then, you, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce all met up at the smaller time travel machine that Bruce put together and got ready for Steve's last run.

You waited patiently as they briefed, powered up the Time Machine, and got all of their odds and ends in place.

Once it was good to go, everyone got a hug just in case, except for you that got a hug and a kiss. What could he say? You were just special like that.

"Still got it?" You asked, as always before sending him off.

"Always!" Out of his pocket, he pulled the $20 between his fingers to show you before putting it back in. "Got a little something extra this time too"

Steve grinned as he picked up mjolnir, knowing it was the first time you ever saw him wield the hammer. Then, the cheeky little shit winked at you, earning a laugh and a shake of your head.

"Good luck, baby. It's only the weight entire timeline as we know it on your shoulders, so, no pressure." You smiled.

"No pressure at all, easy peasy." He agreed, stepping onto the platform.

"Go get 'em Cap. Love you!"

"Love you more."

Then you had the greatest privilege of all, saluting the captain for the very last time.

He smiled, nodded, Bruce counted down, then he was gone.

Of course time worked differently for the person time traveling, so even though he was only gone for about a minute or two for you, for him it was hours.

You and Bucky both knew what was about to happen, so the two of you took a physical and mental step back as you waited for his arrival home.

Bruce counted down once more before bringing him back, and you saw him immediately. He purposefully arrived away from the machine, wanting to have a special moment alone with Sam.

He sat alone on a bench looking out onto the lake, no longer in his suit, but in some of his old clothes he got from his place a few years ago. Shield in hand, but in a leather case.

"Where is he? I don't see him?" Bruce questioned.

"Well bring him back!" Sam panicked.

"I did, I thought I-"

"Then where is he?"

"Guys." You cut in. They both stopped and looked at you. Then you pointed at the bench. "Over there."

Both of them looked at you with a confused expression on their face, until Bucky elaborated. "That's for you, Sam."

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You" you confirmed with a prideful grin.

He hesitantly made his way towards Steve, and watched the conversation from a distance. There wasn't very many words that needed to be exchanged, but even just thinking about how Steve was taking his life into his own hands and making such a big change for the happiness of his own self for once had you choked up.

Just a few weeks ago, he couldn't even fathom fighting for himself. Now, he had moved an entire mountain for his own future.

While this was happening, Bucky filled Bruce in on what was going on. You could hear their conversation, but your eyes never left Sam and Steve as you leaned against a tree.

A few moments went by before the two boys shared a nice hug, Steve stood up without his shield and made his way over to you.

Without a word and a big smile on his face, he reached his hand out to hold yours. Your connected arms swung as you made the shirt walk back into the cabin.

It wasn't until you both stepped inside and closed the door behind you that your arms flew around his neck and his lips pressed against yours.

"Congratulations, Baby!" You said enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Sunflower!" His smile was so uncontrollable he couldn't even get his lips to close enough to kiss you again even if he tried. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I brought something to celebrate" You noted with a smile just as big as his.

"Champagne?" He questioned.

"Even better," you denied, walking away into the kitchen before pulling something out of the cabinet. You hid it behind your back before approaching him again. "Hold out your hands!"

"Okay" he giggled.

Swiftly, you placed a package of marshmallow cookies in his hands and his smile widened.

"I've been thinking about your Mom a lot since I got the place in Brooklyn, and I was thinking about how happy she would probably be if she knew you were taking a step down from fighting literal wars, going to space, and time traveling." You explained.

"Oh, if she knew anything about what I've been up to since she's passed, I think I would've given her a heart attack." Steve agreed, feeling a bit emotional knowing someone has been thinking of her just as often as he does.

"She deserves to be included in this celebration, considering she made you, and you've been worrying her from her peaceful rest since the moment you lied on your enlistment form."

"That, she does." Steve agreed and handed you a cookie before grabbing his own.

You held it up a bit as you presented a toast. "To the Rogers finding peace."

He giggled at your words before tapping his cookie against yours and eating it. Amused that this was the second time this week the two of you had cheered and celebrated with marshmallow cookies.

Steve finished chewing, swallowed, then an expression you didn't quite recognize spread across his face. It was like he wanted to tell you something, but hesitated and was now internally analyzing the words before they left his lips.

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Did you notice I was a few seconds late?" He asked.

You knew there was a statement beneath the question he asked. The wheels started turning as you wondered what he was getting on about. "I did. A few seconds for us was a few hours for you... what did you do?" You raised a curious bow.

"You know, that essay you wrote about Peggy really stuck with me." He started, you immediately smiled. "Had me thinking a lot about how I found a lot of peace over the lack of control while being in the ice because I got to know what happened to her. She got married to a man I rescued in the war, had kids, lived a full life."

"I already knew that, because I wrote that essay!" You joked, earning a good laugh from Steve.

"Very smart! Remind me to give you a gold star later!" He chuckled. "But she never got that for me, so I took your advice and paid her a visit."

"You just saw Peggy?!" You questioned with wide, sparkly eyes.

"I did." He told you, still a little cautious in not wanting to offend you. "Obviously she was a little shocked because she thought I was dead, but we sat down and had a nice conversation about what had happened and what was gonna happen. But most importantly I met her kids, and told her about you and that essay you wrote."

"No way!" Your smile widened, and your hands found his shoulders.

"Yes way! She was genuinely delighted to hear about us, and gave her best wishes. She also wanted me to pass along a hello to you, and let you know that she thinks you're beautiful. Oh, and she’s that I get all the cookies I want whenever I want them.”

“Stop it, that’s so cute!” You squeaked. “This is like the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me! And you got more closure, which is incredible! What a great day. I’m so happy for you, but I’m also just so happy in general. What an honor”

“I love you, Baby." Steve stated with a big smile, hands pulling you close again when they found their favorite spot on your hips. "I'm so thankful every single day that I found you. You've been a beacon of light in my life, I wouldn't have ever made it here without you to guide me."

"I love you too." You sighed contently, as his arms wrapped around you. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. We deserve this life together."

"We've been through so much to get to this moment. Thanks for sticking with me no matter what. I know it was hard and painful, and definitely illegal at one point, but I hope now I can prove to you that it was worth it."

"You don't have to prove it. You already did. It's been worth it the entire time, and I'll always choose you no matter how illegal it becomes." You smiled and squeezed him tight. "You're the bestest, coolest, loveliest human I've ever met."

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." He kissed the top of your head.

"You've gotta propose for that one, Love." You poked.

"I'm working on it!" He said defensively, causing you to laugh.

And working on it he was. Because even though life proceeded as normal when you made it back to Greenwood, there was still a lot happening.

Bucky found a cute little apartment that was perfect for him not even two blocks away from the new bakery in Brooklyn. It felt like the perfect middle ground of still being close to you and Steve, all while still being able to live where he wanted geographically.

Shortly after Bucky moved out, you and Steve headed out on a trip to California to visit your Mom. This was a tricky one for Steve, because your relationship with you Mom was a tricky one for you.

Although your relationship with her was something you were actively improving since she came back from the snap, Steve still knew that her approval of him didn't mean much to you. But he was still old fashioned in the sense that he still at least wanted to meet her, and ask her for permission to propose to you before he popped the question.

Whether he felt like her permission or lack there of would actually make a difference for him taking what he wanted was a wash, but he wanted to do it anyways just to be able to know that he tried at the very least.

This was his second time visiting California with you, and he loved it just as much this time around. You guys stayed in your childhood bedroom at your Mom's house that resided in a lazy town on the bay.

He learned a lot about you from the charm of the house alone. The pictures on the walls of baby you, teenage you, and early adulthood you. Conversations exchanged with your mom over breakfast where she never missed an opportunity to share her favorite stories of your antics growing up. He also learned a lot about your Dad because of how frequently he came up in almost every conversation, and he desperately wished he could've met him. Just from what he's heard, he could tell a lot of who you were came from him.

Every night, you and Steve would go out onto the dock to watch the sunset and listen to music together.

You shared stories with him about what felt like endless hours of you sitting on the dock with your dad. Back then, the hours felt long and gruesome. As if sitting and watching the little creatures in the water beneath you was some sort of torture, but as you grew up and towards the end of his life, it became a sanctuary. It was the only place he seemed to be truly calm and relaxed as his memories and executive function left him. By that point, you wished the hours were endless rather than having a metaphorical clock ticking over his head.

Then, when the moon was out and the sky was dark it would somehow evolve into you and Steve slow dancing under the stars.

During the day you'd take him out and show him all of your favorite old spots. Hole in the wall food joints, family owned ice cream shops, the tide pools, and even long drives up the coast to the same music you would dance with him.

It was relaxed, easy, and Steve passed your Mom's unspoken test with flying colors. He sneakily got her approval two days before you guys left California while you were in the shower.

She was so happy about it that Steve almost had to keep you away from her as much as he could so she didn't ruin the surprise.

Then, on your last night in town, you guys walked over to the dock just like every other night since you've been here. Only this time, it was a little later. Dinner ran late so by the time you made it out for one last night, the sun was already setting.

But it was okay, because when the two of you approached hand in hand, and he watched your face twist up with a billion different emotions when you realized that the dock was covered in flowers and lit up with the soft golden glow of dozens of candles, it was all worth it.

At first you were sad because you thought it was for someone else, and the dock was now unusable for you and Steve on your last night. But as he continued walking towards it, and his hand holding yours was shaking and a little clammy, only then did you realize what was happening.

He could barely even get a single word out, let alone present the ring to you and get down on one knee before you were already saying yes. But he was thankful for your enthusiasm, because it instantly took his nerves away.

The ring was perfect, the proposal was perfect, and dancing under the twinkling stars and amongst the burning candles was perfect.

Your fiancé was perfect.

Knowing that he listened to your stories and took them to heart, and incorporating a special place that reminded you of your dad into your love story made you weep happy tears and he held you close and swayed you to the music.

Happy tears seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of you recently, and each little drop was well deserved and worked for.

That night when you got back to your Mom's place, you didn't even have to tell her the news before she flung her arms around you and Steve at the same time in a big bear hug. It was safe to say she was over the moon.

Just to make things even better, that night you and your Mom ended up having a really nice heart to heart. A lot of the issues you've had with her since you were little were addressed, and she apologized for encouraging you to stay with your ex after she realized how bad the relationship actually was. For the first time ever, she told you how proud of you she was, and how amazing you were for the success of the bakery. She promised to visit you out in Greenwood again, and see the bakery and Brooklyn on opening day.

For a little while, your life had felt like an embarrassment of riches, like or was going just a little too well for just a little too long.

Especially when Steve set off on a personal journey of trying to discover who he really was without jumping from battle to battle. It felt like every day the two of you would set off on a little adventure to try out something new.

Between work going so well, and all the fun dates you were going it, it felt like a smile didn't leave your face for months.

Long drives to little towns in the area, pottery and ceramics classes, yoga, pilates, meeting new friends at bars, then getting dragged home and put to bed, hosting dinner parties with you little Greenwood family, then doing the same thing all over again but in Brooklyn with friends you had made over in the big city. It was exciting, new, and you'd never seen Steve quite so radiant before.

Life was easy for a while, but with highs came lows that couldn't be ignored. The closer opening came for the Brooklyn bakery, the harsher the deadlines, and the more stressed you became.

Focusing on one bakery alone was a full time job in itself, but adding in another one had you practically ripping your hair out in the final few months.

All the choices fell on you, all of the paperwork fell on you, and all of the management choices that still needed to be made for the Greenwood bakery were on you as well, and there were no amount of shoulder massages and support Steve could give you to change that.

It was pretty much accepted that the only way out was through, and it would get much much easier once the new team of employees were trained and the doors were opened.

However, the stress took a toll on your body and landed you in the emergency room one fateful night. For the past year, your periods had become more and more painful. The second day of your cycle every since month Steve would try his best to console you through the pain. Hugs, back rubs, heating pads, painkillers, wasn't enough this time around.

You were throwing up, full body chills, goosebumps raised on your skin, and he couldn't get you to uncurl yourself from the tightest little ball unless it was to roll around in discomfort or getting up to vomit again. As much as it hurt his heart to have to bring you somewhere that had such traumatic experiences associated with it, you tapped out. The pain was so bad that you'd rather go to the emergency room than deal with it any more.

Luckily, the worst part was sitting in the waiting room. You sat curled up on his lap, and he held you so snug to him, it's like he was trying to hide you away from all the awful memories. When they finally took you back, they gave you so many pain killers that you were higher than a kite for the rest of it. Lots of exams, two doctors appointments, and a few medical bills later, they decided it was your birth control that needed to be switched.

All was well until a few months later when you woke up nauseous, and ravenously hungry at the same time. Having pushed through it, and gone to work, you called Steve on your lunch break to rant about how grouchy you felt, and how everything was getting on your last nerve.

He decided to stop by and drop off your favorite food to cheer you up since you still had a long day ahead of you. When he gave you a big long hug to try and make you feel better, you started crying because of how nice he was.

That's when it clicked in his head that your period was a whole week late. He brought it up cautiously, and you both agreed that you'd be taking a pregnancy test after work.

Steve picked up a few different kinds from the store, and both of you separately processed what this all meant while waiting for the time to come to have a real answer.

By the time you had gotten off of work and Steve ushered you straight up the stairs, you had gone through all seven stages of grief, and acceptance for whatever the future held for you. Mostly because you knew that no matter what, Steve would be incredible, and you were ready to take on anything life threw your way as long as he was there to hold your hand through it.

That's exactly what he did. You took the test, flipped it face down, and brought it out into the bedroom where you snuggled up together and for three whole minutes, he comforted you and reminded you that it would be okay no matter what.

The timer he set on his phone went off, you asked him to flip the test over.

Both of you read it at the same time, Negative.

Your eyes found each others faces to gauge any sort of reaction. He saw your lip wobbling and tears pooling in your lash line, and you saw him trying his absolute best to hide every drop of disappointment.

"Hey, it's okay." He reminded you with nothing louder than a soft whisper. When his gentle hands tucked your hair out of your face, and he grinned just to bring you some comfort, you fell apart. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry" You apologized, shoving your face into his chest. You didn't know if the apology was for your emotions or the disappointment you were both feeling but left unspoken.

"Don't you dare apologize, my love." He said sweetly, protectively cradling the back of your head. "All I wanted was your health to be a priority, that's why the test was important. As long as you're okay, I'm okay too."

As always, you took his words to heart. You never expected to be so disappointed by the negative result when you weren't actively trying to get pregnant in the first place. You also weren't expecting to be so effected by the tiniest shimmer of sadness in Steve's eyes when he read the test.

Your period showed up the next day, but the thought of having a baby intruded your every waking thought for the next month. It felt like the only time you weren't actively thinking about it was when you were working, but even then, you'd read deadlines printed on papers and wonder if now was a good time.

But then you realized now was a great time. The bakery was set to open in just a few short months, then most of the responsibility would be handed over to staff who was training hard to handle it. Steve was doing better now than ever, and wedding planning hadn't even started yet.

Much like Steve didn't want to propose until he retired, you didn't want to plan a wedding until the bakery was open for business.

With downtime promised in the future, and a sparkly engagement ring on your finger that reminded you of your sweet handsome boy, you decided to just talk to him about the possibility of even just trying.

Just like always, Steve was a thoughtful guy. He choose all of his words carefully through all of your long conversations about the decision to have a kid. You knew he so badly wanted to say yes, in fact, you swore if he was a dog his tail would be wagging every time he even thought about it. But it was a big choice and a huge life change, he wanted to make sure it was really something you wanted and not something you felt pressured into since that one fateful day.

It took 3 more weeks before both of you were wholeheartedly committed to the endeavor with the agreement and the knowledge that it might mot happen right away.

The prospect settled in your mind, and you just enjoyed the journey while you allowed work to be your main priority at the moment. And with so many deadlines approaching, you really didn't have any other choice than to just let the universe work it's magic.

The closer opening day became, it was like the bakery had become your and Steve's child. The two for you spent weeks in the store in Brooklyn painting walls, assembling endless amounts of furniture, directing deliveries, and decorating the lobby to live up to the very high standards of the Greenwood location.

By the time the kitchen was fully stocked, employees were trained, and the whole space was perfect from head to toe, you were both exhausted.

The very last night before opening, you checked every last screw, every bulb in the bake case, every seam in the wallpaper, and quality controlled every last desert on a finalized menu, you and Steve quite literally laid sprawled out on the floor of the lobby.

Steve took a good look around, and was so incredibly proud of all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to make your dreams come true. He knew that if his mom was around to see what this building had turned into if not her beloved bodega, she would be absolutely thrilled to have something like this in the neighborhood.

You laid flat on your back, looking up at the expertly painted ceiling mural and the chandelier, every crystal hung from it by the will of your own two hands.

Then, your rolled over onto your stomach, and your hand pat right in the center of Steve's chest.

"It's midnight, and I have to be back here at 4 in the morning. Maybe I should just have a sleepover." Your exhausted grin took over when you saw his sleepy face.

"You should get a few hours of real sleep before your big day, pretty lady." Steve denied, getting up off the floor and offering his hands to pull you up off the floor. "It looks incredible, you did an amazing job as always."

"It's funny that you think I'll get any sleep at all" You stood, then gave him a kiss. "I really couldn't have done it without your help, so, thank you, Baby."

"Anything for you." He smiled. "I can't wait to see it in the morning, I have butterflies just thinking about this place full of people."

"You and me both." You squeezed his hand. "You don't think the rug clashes with the wallpaper? And the chairs match the wood on the booths?"

"Stop, it's perfect." Steve put your mind to rest. "Just like you!"

"Yeah yeah yeah," you giggled, walking behind the counter. "I guess you're pretty cool too. There's a few cookies left from the test bake. You want some?"

"Wait! Hold on" Steve said dramatically, walking away from you and out of the store.

You stood there confused for a few moments, before he walked back in. Nothing had changed, but he did approach the counter.

"Hello, I'm your first customer!" He enthused.

You giggled, looking at the case that was empty besides 2 chocolate chip cookies. "Hi there, Honey! What can I get'cha?"

"One chocolate chip cookie please" He smiled.

You knew he was recreating the moment the two of you met, though that felt like lifetimes ago, you could never forget the vivid memory of seeing his handsome face for the very first time.

"Okay, but I'm giving you two, because I think anyone who orders one cookie is lying to themselves." You said, putting the cookies in a bag for him.

"Why thank you very much!"

"I don't think I've seen you around here before, are you driving through?" You joked.

"Something like that." He chuckled.

"Well I hope to see you around here again soon, and here are your cookies." You handed him the bag.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asked.

"They're on the house."

"I couldn't possibly accept that" Steve denied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Out came the very same $20 bill the two of you have been passing back and forth since the day you met. You smiled and shook your head at him as he handed it to you. "You have a big day tomorrow, I think it's your turn to hold onto the good luck charm."

You accepted the pass off, "this doesn't mean I lost this argument, did it?"

"It totally does" Steve did a little happy dance.

"You're a cheeky little shit, but I love you."

He laughed at your statement, "I love you more!"

"I have a little surprise for you" You noted.

"You do?" His eyebrows raised.

Nodding, you pointed to an empty slot in the bake case. His eyes followed to read the tag, Sarah's Sandwich Cookies.

His big blues met yours again with the happiest puppy dog pout you've ever seen in your life, if that was even possible.

"What you said about your Mom really stuck with me, and I wanted to make sure her and her love for cookies were honored in a place you hold special memories in. So, marshmallow cookies are permanent and exclusive on the menu for this location." You explained.

He didn't have much to say, but he did walk around the counter and wrap you up in a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"I wish I could've met her." You noted.

"She would've loved you so much, probably more than me." He giggled from above you.

"Impossible" you denied.

He gave you a kiss before letting you go.

"As much as I'd love to stay here forever and ever, I really do want to make sure you get some sleep." Steve noted.

"We can go now." You agreed, heart nervously pounding in your chest. "hey, really quick do you mind checking the oven to make sure it properly cooled down while I lock this register?" You asked.

"Sure thing, sweet thing" he nodded.

As he walked off, you smiled to yourself and your stomach filled with butterflies. You let him get a few paces ahead of you before leaning into the doorway of the kitchen while watching him reach for and open the oven doors.

He checked the temperature of the internal thermometer, which looked normal to him, but then, he stopped.

"Hey, I think someone forgot something in here!" He shouted for you, not quite understanding.

"That's odd, what is it?" You approached from behind.

"A cinnamon roll, but just one, and it's on a... plate?" He looked at it again. "Did you guys even make cinnamon rolls today?"

You smiled and shook your head at his wholesome cluelessness, but all of his attention was directed at getting the cinnamon roll out of the oven.

"No, we didn't." You denied. "But why would that be there in the first place?"

"Maybe someone wanted to warm one up them forgot about it" He pondered before pouting at it. "I don't know if that's more sad for the cinnamon roll or the person who forgo-"

Then he stopped.

His eyes met yours and his mouth fell open.

"Why would there possibly be a bun in the oven?!" You continued questioning with a huge uncontrollable smile, even though you were positive he understood now.

"You're lying." His eyes went wide, smile slowly spreading across his lips as tears welled in his eyes.

"No I'm not." You shook your head again with a chuckle and walked towards him. Out of your back pocket, you pulled out a very positive pregnancy test and showed it to him. "I'm definitely pregnant, like, super pregnant."

"You're pregnant?!" He blinked back his tears, one fell right down his cheek. "Like, right now?!"

You wiped it off with your thumb as you laughed at his question. "Right now."

"Holy shit!" He smiled, his hands landing on your shoulders, gently shaking them very enthusiastically. "You're pregnant! We're having a baby!"

"We are, we really really are!" You shared his enthusiasm, shaking his shoulders right back.

"Oh my gosh! When did you find out?" He questioned, eyes wide and staring at you in disbelief.

"Three days ago, I would've told you sooner but I wanted to surprise you." You explained, wiping another happy tear off his cheek.

"That's crazy, this is so crazy." He chuckled, finding himself unable to stop the tears from dripping down his cheeks. "How are you, are you feeling okay?"

"I've been constantly nauseous and trying so hard to hide it." You giggled at your own confession. "But other than that, so far so good. Are you feeling okay?"

"I didn't even know it was possible to be this happy or this in love but for some reason I'm feeling both at the same time, and I don't know what to do with myself." He confessed.

You smiled at his state of emotion, and smothered his face in kisses as he processed the news you just told him. Then, the news sunk in and his arms wrapped around you, and he took his turn smothering you in kisses.

"I'm so excited to go on this journey with you, this is incredible" he cried happily.

"You're gonna be the best dad ever." You cheesed, squeezing him back.

With two fingers under your chin, he raised your head and pressed a long, loving kiss on your lips. His palm rested on your cheek, and you sleepily sighed at the comfort of being held by your favorite boy.

"God, I love you so much." He confessed once more for the billionth time that day. "This is the most selfless thing anyone could ever do for someone, and I get to spend the rest of my life spoiling you rotten every single day and I'm so happy about it."

"It was so hard for me not to immediately tell you" You giggled. "But it was worth it to see you cute little face."

"Now I really want to make sure you get some sleep!" He enthused. "Oh, also..."

He pulled away from you and reached into his pocket, then pulled out a crisp $10 bill and handed it to you.

"What is this for?" You questioned, unable to hide your smile.

"Extra good luck! 10 for you, 10 for me, 10 for cinnamon roll." He explained.

"Never in my life have I felt quite as lucky as I do right now." You accepted.

$30 worth of good luck or not, the universe sent you Steve Rogers, and that was the day you won the lottery. That made you the luckiest girl I'm the whole world.

"Baby, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you better tell me to get it done for you. Hungry? I'm gonna find you a Michelin star meal. Tired? You better believe you're getting a full body massage. Can't reach the top shelf? Ring a bell and I'll bring a latter." He told you, and you could tell he was being absolutely serious. "I don't want you lifting a single finger, and I mean it!"

You chuckled and shook your head. "Don't say what you don't mean, because I'm going to be needing you a lot of that's the case"

"Being needed is literally all I've ever wanted in life" Steve accepted your statement.

"Well now with our little cinnamon roll on the way, we're both going to need you more than you'll ever know." You kissed him, and wiped the last of the happy tears off of his cheeks.

"You're right, it really is so nice to be needed."

The end 🌟🤍

@patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

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navybrat817 · 10 days ago

Note

Pairing: Nomad!Steve/Reader

Title: Ruinous

Ooh. Love this, Darsy!

All you wanted when he walked away was for him to ask you to follow. He just had to say the word and you would’ve gone anywhere he asked. He didn’t though. His path was one he chose to walk without you. And you had cried too many tears over the past and a future that would never come.

Love and thanks! ❤️

Send me a character/pairing and a title to get five lines of an imaginary fic.

#navybrat answers #ask game #title and five lines #imaginary fic #steve rogers x female reader #nomad!steve rogers reader #ruinous #darsynia #steve rogers

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anonymityisfunwriter · 5 months ago

Text

There Is No Coming Back From This - Chapter 3

Characters: Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Summary: "It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

Bucky can't help but be really glad Steve refused to tell him anything about why he was going back to see Tony Stark and his kid.

Not that he really wanted to hear about anything about the Stark family anyway.

He didn't have to watch the news for more than a minute to realize the breaking news was everywhere.

Tony Stark's daughter, a wanted fugitive, considered armed and dangerous, dosed with an untested serum of some kind, mysteriously disappeared from SWORD custody last night.

And no matter how hard he tries not to, Bucky can't help but judge Tony for the actions that brought all this about. All he can think, who would willing test some serum on their own child? No one except Tony Stark.

And now he's implicated everyone around them. Including Steve. Who shouldn't have gone back in the first place.

And now, all Bucky can do is hope that Steve made it out of there without getting caught up in another one of Tony Stark's messes.

An urgent knock cuts through his watching session. He grumbles under his breath and flicks off the TV, listening for any signs of an unfriendly visitor. He quietly walks to the door, careful not to make a single sound.

"Buck, it's me." Steve taps at the door in the intricate knocking patter only they knew.

"Thank God, Steve." Bucky sighs in relief as he reaches the door. He swings the door open. "Honestly, I was worried you got mixed up with all that Stark nonsense. I mean, seriously, what is wrong with him? Testing a serum-"

"Bucky," Steve stops him, stepping a foot over the threshold. Bucky's smile drops as he finally notices the other person standing behind Steve. "I need your help."

Bucky shakes his head over and over and over. "Steve, tell me that is not who I think that is."

"Bucky, just hear me out."

"Steve, please, tell me that is not who I think it is!" Bucky begs, his eyes comically wide. He's not angry. In fact, he finds himself mostly concerned for Steve, who clearly seems to have lost his mind.

"Please, we - I need your help. It's just for a little while."

"No!' Bucky hisses. "She can't stay here! Are you crazy?"

"Come on," Steve begs. "She's just a kid."

"She's a Stark! A Stark! She'll probably try to kill me in my sleep!"

"She can hear you," you sarcastically mutter, a little louder than intended. Both Steve and Bucky's eyes dart over to you, you immediately look away and feign innocence.

"She's not going to kill you in your sleep," Steve promises. "She just got put in the middle of one of her father's messes. Something you, of all people, should be sympathetic to."

"I should be sympathetic? You want me to help the man that's very literally the reason we're both fugitives," Bucky scoffs. "No, this isn't my problem. I don't care."

"I'm not asking you to help him, I'm asking you to help me. I promised I'd keep her safe."

Bucky's hands fly up in frustration, "Well, why the hell would you promise that?"

"She's a good kid," Steve emphasizes, taking another step towards Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's just for a little while. Please?"

"Fine," Bucky acquiesces with a groan. He lets go of the door, allowing you both to enter. "Don't make me regret this, Steve." As you walk past the threshold, you can feel the ire radiating off of him, he sneers down at you, "Hope you're okay with sleeping on the floor, Princess."

"Well... this is gonna be fun," you sarcastically remark.

"It won't be boring." Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should get some rest. It's been a long night."

"It's 6 at night."

"And you've been on the run since 4 in the morning. Trust me, the adrenaline runs out."

And in spite of Bucky's promise, you didn't actually sleep on the floor. You take the small couch in the living room, curled up in the thin throw blanket with Steve rummaging through his bag.

As it turns out, he was right about the adrenaline crash. The second you feel even remotely comfortable, you drift off into a restless sleep. As he sorts through his bag and plans out your next move, his eyes flicker back and forth to your sleeping figure. There was no hiding his concern. It was a lot to process, and he dreaded the moment the events of the last week hit you. In one week, you were dosed with a serum. Woke up from the brink of death with unfamiliar strength. You'd been forced out of your home and become a fugitive.

It's no surprise to him that you toss and turn all night. Even bogged down by exhaustion, there's a part of him that wants to keep a close eye on you. He eventually dozes off, sleeping until the early morning light of the next morning.

You're also woken up by the morning light streaming through the blinds of Bucky's hideout. You jolt up with a gasp at the unfamiliar scene.

"Easy, kid," Steve mutters. "We're at Bucky's, remember?"

You shake your head, trying to clear the mental fog, "Right. Bucky. On the run."

"You alright?" Steve hedges.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You rub your bleary eyes. You don't actually feel that rested. Still, you feel better than you did just last week.

"Here," Steve offers, handing you a mug as you join him in the kitchenette. "Drink something."

"Thanks." You absentmindedly reach out and grab the mug. The second your hand closes around the mug, your grip shatters the mug. And as your luck would have it, it's at that moment that Bucky enters the room.

He grimaces at you, then at shattered ceramic at your feet. "You broke my favorite mug."

"I-" you stammer in shock.

"That was your only mug, Bucky," Steve reminds him.

"This is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about," Bucky glowers. "She can't be here. We'll all get caught."

Steve's eyes flicker between you and Bucky. Even as you try to pull on a brave face, you look scared out of your mind. Steve turns to you with an apologetic look, "Why don't you go get cleaned up?"

You nod, walking out of the room with another word. With the utmost concentration, you lightly touch the doorknob. You sigh in relief that you don't accidentally break it. You lightly grasp the doorknob, and without incident, you make it into the bathroom. You mostly take a moment to compose yourself. You take a mental inventory of yourself. Your face. Your eyes. Your cheekbones. You looked so much healthier than a week ago. A lot less... close to death. Healthy even. Healthy and a fugitive. Healthy and in exile. Healthy and unwanted.

You shake away all those thoughts and force them back down.

But you can't help but hear the loud argument happening right outside the paper thin walls.

"This is what I'm talking about, Steve. That girl is a high profile, ticking time bomb. It doesn't matter what you do or where you take her, she's gonna stick out like a sore thumb."

"No, she's not," Steve insists. "Tony put a lot of time and effort into keeping her out of the public eye. And we'll get the breaking things under control. This is all so new, but Tony was working with her to get it under control."

"You seem to be putting a lot of stock into what Tony Stark did or didn't do."

"He messed up," Steve agrees. "I know that he messed up, but that's not the point. The kid is innocent in all of this. She was just ripped from everything that she's ever known because of her father's mistakes. Cut her a little slack."

"Slack?" Bucky incredulously repeats. "There is no slack out here! You were almost caught. I've almost been caught before. It's too much, Steve... Look, I'm not telling you to turn her in. All I'm saying is that maybe this isn't your problem."

"I made a promise."

"Forget about your promise!" Bucky protests. "Worry about yourself for once."

"I can't do that," Steve refuses with a firm shake of his head. "I won't turn my back on her again."

"Why? Why the hell not?"

"Because I can't!" Steve shouts. "I just can't. I've known that kid her entire life. I care about her. She's scared and she needs our help right now. She didn't have any say in anything that happened to her, but she's doing her best. She just needs a little help. Help we can give her."

Bucky groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're killing me, Steve."

"She's a good kid. She's smart. A hell of a lot smarter than you or I were at 17. Just give her a chance, I promise she can hold her own."

"You're responsible for whatever happens," Bucky warns. "You hear me? Figure out how you're gonna make her blend in. And get the breaking things under control."

"I'll take care of it. Don't worry."

Bucky dubiously scoffs, snatching up his jacket and turning to walk out the door, "Sure, you will."

With the front door slammed shut, you figure it's probably safe to come out of hiding. You creak the door open, poking your head out into the hall.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Sorry." You walk back to the couch, taking a seat. "I tried not to, but the walls are paper thing. And you know, the weird serum flowing through my veins."

"Are you okay?"

You shrug, not quite sure how to answer his question. Physically, you were fine. Mentally and emotionally, you couldn't deny you were in a bit of weird spot, but who wouldn't be? "Serum flowing through my veins. On the lam. Pretty good considering."

Steve hangs his head apologetically, "I tried to tell him, but Tony would hear it."

"What?" you sarcastically gasp. "My father was being stubborn? I can't believe it."

"He wasn't ready to say goodbye. None of us were."

"I know." The smile on your face drops. You shake your head, thankful for the innate Stark ability to compartmentalize any negative emotion. You couldn't decide how you felt about what your father had done to you. He saved your life while also damning it all in one go. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. We just roll with the punches."

Steve nods, watching you to gauge your feelings on the situation, "Right."

You hug your knees to your chest, "Bucky really doesn't want me here, does he?"

"He's a little rough around the edges, but he only acts like that when he's worried."

"About me. That I'll get you caught."

"Which you won't. We just have to be careful, maybe take a few more precautions. That's all."

"I have a feeling I'm not gonna like this, but I'll do anything if it keeps us safe."

"Well, right about now, they're probably plastering our faces all over the news. You might want to change up," He gestures to you. "You know, your look, as the kids call it."

You halfheartedly laugh, rolling your eyes, "That's not what the kids call it, Steve."

"You know what I mean," he snorts. "The harder you are to identify, the easier it is to lay low. I grew a beard. Natasha went blonde. That kind of thing."

"Anything else?"

"We're gonna have to move soon. The longer we stay in one place, the more likely it is that someone will spot us."

It's only a few hours later when you find yourself standing in the bathroom staring at the mirror before you, clutching a pair of scissors. You take a deep breath, desperately trying to find the nerve to do it.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I really don't care."

"It seems like you do. And that's okay, kid. Maybe you could dye it or something."

"It just grew back. This is the longest it's ever been since I was kid and I lost it all," you whisper.

"Kid..." Steve begins to apologize.

You shake your head again, forcing yourself to make the first cut. The scissors open and close with a resounding snip, taking off more than half of your hair in one go. Steve sucks in a sharp breath as your hair falls to the ground. "It's fine, Steve. I just didn't think I'd be cutting it again, but I also thought I'd be six feet under by now."

"That's not funny."

"Sure it is." You take the scissors and cut off another large chunk. "2 super soldiers and a Stark. All on the run together. It sounds like the start of a really, really bad joke."

He doesn't have any idea what to say as you continue hacking at your hair. He's not even sure if you want to be consoled, so he decides to give you a moment to gather yourself. "I'l give you a minute."

"Okay."

You pretend like every snip of the scissors doesn't bother you at all as you cut chunk after chunk of hair until you're sure it's mostly even. You look down at the bathroom floor to the clumps of hair on the floor. It takes you back to the time Pepper shaved your hair during your first rounds of chemo all those years ago.

You throw all the hair away and leave the bathroom. The moment you enter the room, you hear Bucky's snarky remark waiting for you, "Guess the Princess finally finished."

"Leave her alone, Bucky," Steve scolds. "She's had it hard."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, okay, 'hard'. What choosing between the steak or the lobster?"

You jokingly twist your mouth, "Actually, I'm allergic to shellfish."

"Not helping," Steve hisses.

You shrug, turning your attention to the sound of your father's familiar voice coming from the TV. You pad over to the living room, watching as he gives a press conference.

Bucky scoffs, "He's giving press conferences when his daughter allegedly disappeared into thin air."

"He's playing his part, Bucky. Ease up."

You pay no mind to Bucky or his insults about your father. Tony points to a reporter in the first row. "You. Go."

"Is it true you experimented on your daughter with a serum of some sort?"

Tony grimaces, rolling his eyes, "Next question."

"How did your daughter escape custody?"

"I think the better question is how they had her in custody and lost her," he expertly retorts.

"Does it concern you that your daughter is now a fugitive?"

"It concerns me that my daughter is missing and no one seems to be doing anything about it."

"Reports say that Captain Steve Rogers was at the Avengers Compound when your daughter disappeared."

"I think you missed the part where you're supposed to ask a question," Tony remarks.

"What's your daughter's relationship to Captain Rogers?"

Tony shakes his head in disbelief, his face contorting with disgust, "I'm sorry, what exactly are you implying?"

"Did your daughter run away with Captain Rogers because she was in a romantic relationship with him?" the reporter plainly asks.

"Ew..." you cringe dramatically, your face contorting with repulsion. "No offense, Steve, but you're old enough to be my grandfather."

Steve's head vehemently shakes, pinching the bridge of his nose so tightly that you worry he might break it. "Considering I actually was friends with your grandfather, none taken."

All the while, Bucky is maniacally laughing harder than you've ever seen. It isn't until Steve slaps Bucky upside the head that he finally stops laughing while you turn your head back to the screen just in time to see your father speak with a resounding firmness. "I'm only going to say this one. My 17 year old daughter did not run away. While in the custody of the U.S. Government, she disappeared. I don't know where she is, and I want nothing more than for her to be found safe and sound."

"So you don't think it's too coincidental that they both disappeared last night? What was a known fugitive even doing at the Avengers Compound?"

Tony holds a hand up, halting all further questions. "All I will say is that I have the utmost faith in Steve Rogers. I won't be taking anymore questions today."

The moment those words leave Tony's mouth, the screen goes dark. You turn around to see Steve with the remote in hand and a apologetic expression, "Sorry, kid, I just - I don't think you should be watching that. It's gonna get ugly."

You think about every person in your life. Your old life. Every person that will be raked over the coals because they were trying to save your life. Tony. Pepper. Peter. Bruce. Everyone. "You're right, it's going to get ugly."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist 'There Is No Coming Back From This' Chapter List

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frostironfudge · 1 year ago

Text

Hide From Me - Steve Rogers

Summary: You deal with the leaving of Steve in your own way, what happens when he finds you and states he wants you back? (Also I was inspired by Where Have You Been by Rihanna the lyrics are quoted)

Pairings: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, drinking, di/rty dancing, di/rty talk, sm/ut, ora/l fem rec, d/s undertones, ex/hi/bitionism if you squint, steve rogers is jealous, you are responsible for the media you consume

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist || AO3

A.N: i do not consent to my work being copied, translated, reposted on other platforms, or put into AI. My accounts are on tumblr and AO3 only.

Knocking back drinks is easy. The burn is welcome. Flashing lights hide your seat of choice.

See everyone but you must not be seen.

The bitter taste upon your tongue seldom prevents the bittersweet memory. Your tongue clicks as the last shot glass is empty as well. Pushing away from your hideaway you go to the crowd upon the dance floor.

Become one with the crowd but you must stand out.

The speakers thump, your heart reverberates to the beat of the song. Head thrown back in a bitter drowned laugh at the lyrics. Reminding you of an aimless search.

Hands grip your hips, you allow yourself to be pulled into the embrace. The man moves his hips, your short skirt doing its job.

The two of you move. Your hands guide him to your waist, you turn wrapping your arms around him. Smiling shyly at him. Little does he know what you are up to.

Replace easily but never forget.

The man trails his hands up your back. Hmm, maybe you could have your fun. The wandering hands freeze. You huff, pushing away from him. The crowd wanes in the slightest. You find another partner.

Your hips meet with this new partner, your eyes scan the surroundings.

How fitting the line of the song.

‘Are you hiding from me, yeah?

Somewhere in the crowd’

The light bounces off of his features, brows knit, scowling. Angry, grumpy and oh so livid at the forgettable hands that are too close to cupping what is absolutely belonging to him.

Rather was his, abandoning you on the run. Leaving stale crumbs to follow. You grab the wandering hands leading them to the back. Where bodies seek pleasure.

Where the heart eats the afterthoughts, and falls into a bitter ruin.

‘Someone who can please me,

Love me all night long’

The stranger pushes you against the wall, lips on your neck, parting your legs with his knee. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, drawing him closer. The stranger speaks with lust, and decrees promises of euphoria.

You blink up at him, then smirk. Your hands wander below. He groans as you palm him. Then he stumbles backward. Your vision is blocked by broad shoulders that one did carry your given marks proudly.

The song reaches its chorus. Steve turns to you, blue eyes carry an anger. You only raise your brow at him. He follows you out of the back exit. You don’t run. He tilts his head, you did run from him the previous times.

Why not today?

The song still faintly carries out of the club. You turn towards him. Arms crossed, demeanour demanding an explanation.

“You are not running away from me.” Steve says it as though a statement, the subtle shock hidden well enough.

Make them tell you everything, give them nothing.

“You seemed as if you wanted to have a chat.” You lean against the wall.

“We no longer have to be on the run. Things have come up.” He regards you, trying to get a read. Your expression is neutral.

“So what? You’re treasure hunting your abandoned cadets?” You sneer.

“Do not be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like as if I’m to blame when–,”

“Steve, fuck you.” You spit out, “I do not wish to return anywhere with you. You left lets keep it that fucking way.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” You watch the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Any warm bed.” You take a sick pleasure in the way his calm demeanour cracks. Flaring nostrils, tightening fist, clenched jaw.

“You’re coming to my place.” The authoritative tone makes itself known.

“Sorry Captain, I no longer work for or with you.” You turn back, your shoulder pushing against his arm as you go back into the club.

Steve closes his eyes, breathing in and then out. He groans low as your perfume lingers around him. He had to take you back. Whatever he may have to do to lure you. Following in your footsteps.

Finding you on the dance floor is easy only because you make it. He had decided to leave but then you had to dance with that lowlife. Then the next one, as if you knew he was here.

‘Looking for you babe,

Looking for you babe,

Searching for you babe’

Steve growls spotting you, lips locked on with the stranger from before. His movements are sluggish but they still touch what belongs to Steve himself. The man is pulled away by a friend as Steve makes his way to you.

You are pulled to him, his warmth seeping into your skin through the material of your sheer top yet you shiver. Steve hums pleased, lips nipping at your earlobe. Your hands tighten upon his wanting to push him away.

Both of your hands are grabbed by one of his, you try to move but Steve has other plans. His large palm moves down the back of your right thigh then front. Moving below your skirt. He cups you, the tightening of your inner thighs just keeps his touch closer.

He begins to grind his palm to the beat of the music, speed growing faster as the tempo picks up. Steve watches as your body responds to him. Unravelling itself to the man who ruined it and put it back together with each shattering orgasm.

Your breath comes out in short pants, the coil tightening in your belly. Your panties are ruined by your arousal aiding Steve in his merciless ministrations. Your head rests against his chest. You feel his hand on your chest but your hands don’t move. Lest he stops.

Your moan reverberates against his palm. He tugs on your earlobe yet again as praise. Two fingers now inside you. You know you won’t be able to take it any longer.

‘You can have me all you want

Anyway,’

You cum with a cry of his name, his hearing picks it up even if the hazed crowd around you cannot hear the sweet melody.

You’re pressed down into the mattress, with his belt around your hands tied to the headboard. Steve’s lips are seizing yours—wet, warm, and consuming you. Clothes are long discarded along the small hallway of the flat.

Large palms cup your breasts, your nipples teased, tugged upon with fingers and teeth. When he kisses over your sternum his beard leaves a delicious burn across your body. You cry out his name as he blows over your folds. Lips latching on your clit.

Steve moans, finally his hunger would be sated. Your taste coats his tongue and lips. He can feel his pussy demanding for more, demanding to be rewarded for all these months of useless fucks.

“Steve!” You cry out when he bites down on your folds, tugging them before soothing them with his tongue.

“You need to be reminded who this pussy belongs to.” He nips on your clit, you cry out as the sensitivity begins to take over. He can tell the signs, your hands released.

His cock coated in your arousal. He hisses as your nails dig in, awaking his primal urge to want to be marked by you over and over.

Steve thrusts into you, groaning as you take him so well. All of him, every inch.

“Do you know how beautiful you look? Taking every inch of my cock so well.” He praises, “Look at you, marking me up.”

Your eyes follow the trail of red welts as you leave scratches upon him. Drawing him in and closer for more, more of him.

He angles his hips and you feel him hit the spot that has you arching up into him. Your orgasm barrels into you. Crying out his name. Steve kisses you as your ecstasy triggers his own. You feel him fill you up, your whimpers and mewls met with his soft kisses.

When he pulls away you whine, needing him close. He returns soon with a warm towel and more kisses to give you.

Somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, he makes yet another promise,

“I will make it up to you, sweetheart. I do regret leaving. I’m so very sorry. Even if it takes me years to earn your forgiveness I will remain on my knees.”

The morning light wakes Steve, the sheets are warm and still carry your scent. He smiles burrowing closer, his arm reaching out to draw you to him. He finds emptiness. Bolting upright he searches the room.

He walks through the small apartment. Each corner is empty.

Your clothes are still strewn across his floor but his shirt is gone. Tongue running over his teeth he walks up to the small paper taped to his bathroom mirror. Words he wrote months ago stare back at him.

‘Don’t try to find me, I do not want to be found.’

At the back of the note there is more, but in your handwriting;

‘My Love,

Your search for me will be futile just as mine for you was.

Thanks for the warm bed.’

He traces the lipstick print you’ve left as the sign off with his index finger.

-x-x-x-x-

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #nomad steve smut #captain america x female reader #nomad steve x reader #steve rogers angst #frostironfudge #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #dom steve #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #nomad steve rogers x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

Text

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 3

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, porn without plot, PIV unprotected (wrap it up!), fingering (fem receiving), cum play, breeding kink, possession kink, cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Steve is mid 30s. Part 3 of 3, final chapter babayyy!

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the army to make him a super soldier. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. He's come back from a business trip and the only place he wants to be is with you.

Word Count: 3,528k

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

A/N: Listen...I know. I got zooted and just kept writing. I have no excuses for myself. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @namsey1987 @dayjlovesromance

Steve had been gone nearly three weeks and you were not taking it well. After he effectively made you his fuck doll, he disappeared. Well, that wasn’t fair. You texted all the time and called each other when he was done for the day.

You didn’t know what he did and he wasn’t allowed to tell you. You knew it was dangerous and you knew that the military valued him. As much as the military could value anyone.

You were going stir crazy. He made you feel alive. He had pinpointed something you held close to the vest for so long. He not only sniffed you out, he was able to deliver. And deliver more. And then he just left. Vanished. Poofed.

If you didn’t have such vivid memories, you’d think it was all a dream. Hell, it was starting to feel like one. Which was insane. You knew you sounded insane. But you were bordering on obsession at this point.

You needed to feel his lips on yours. His hands on your body. You needed to hear his filthy words. You needed to see that perfect face lost in your body. You needed to know that you affected him just as much as he affected you.

You didn’t know when he would be back. So there you were. On a Tuesday afternoon staring at your ceiling because nothing mattered anymore. You weren’t depressed. You weren’t that delusional. You just missed him so damn much.

Your parents had noticed a change in you. They often asked what was wrong with you and why you were so sullen all the time. You put on a fake smile every time they come near. It wasn’t like you could admit that you were in desperate need of being bent over and fucked out of your mind.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your strange musings. You wanted to ignore it. But some divine intuition made you reach for it. Steve’s name flashed across the screen. Your heart flipped as you swiped to answer it.

“How’s my best girl?” Steve’s suave voice was like music to your ears. You grinned like an idiot and flipped over in bed.

“Good. Been busy, you?”

“Missing you.”

You giggled. “Steve…”

“Tell me you miss me,” he said.

“You know I do,” you said. You couldn’t stop grinning. You knew that he couldn’t see you and you were silently thankful for it. You looked like an idiot.

“I want to hear the words,” he said. There was shuffling on his end and then the sound of a door closing. He must have made it back to his hotel room early.

“I miss you, Steve.” You added extra sugar to your voice and Steve chuckled.

“Brat. What are you doing?” He asked.

“Getting ready to hang with friends,” you lied. You couldn’t very well tell him that you didn’t want to do anything at the moment but sulk. Sulk and remember the feeling of him all over your body.

“Look out of your window.”

You froze. Surely…surely not. You scrambled out of your bed and threw back your curtains. Across the way, Steve stood in his bedroom window and waved to you. You shrieked.

“When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked. You placed your hand on your window as if you could reach out and touch him. You couldn’t believe that he was there, just a short distance away.

The persistent ache in your chest eased up at the sight of him. It was unnatural to miss someone this much, but you did. You missed him desperately.

“Wanted to surprise you. Get your ass over here,” Steve’s voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

You loosed a breath and grinned. He did not have to tell you twice. You turned and threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. You realized too late that you stood at the window in your bra and panties. Well hell. He saw more than that weeks ago.

“Don’t you dare change that sexy outfit either.” Steve hung up the phone and it only excited you more.

You ran downstairs and slipped on your sandals. “Where are you rushing off to?” Your mom caught you by the front door. She emerged from the kitchen with glasses around her neck. She looked you up and down and you thanked your lucky stars that she couldn’t see you blush.

“Friends. We’re probably going to head to the mall or something. I’ll text if I catch something with them,” you said.

Two for two on lying. You wished that you felt guilty but you just didn’t. You were bouncing as you stood there. Heat and desire suffused you. You knew you were in for a naughty treat and you didn’t need your mom knowing that the neighbor was ruining her baby girl.

Your mom tilted her head as she looked at you. “I’m glad you seem a bit happier. For real this time. You know I’m here if you ever want to talk,” she said.

“I know, mom. I’m fine. Swear.” You gave her your best smile. She still side eyed you but waved you away. What harm could you get into in Bumfuck, Suburbia? It was a major reason why they moved here in the first place. They didn’t want to worry about you hanging out with friends or being gone all night in less than savory neighborhoods.

You waved as well and headed out of the front door. You quickly skipped past the porch, across the lawn, and over to Steve’s house. Before you could knock, Steve opened the door and smiled at you. He yanked you into the house.

No sooner had the door closed, did he push you against it and crash his lips against you. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you flush against his hard dick. You gasped and the sensation. That allowed him to sweep his tongue inside and deepen the kiss.

Your hands came up to play with the hair at his nape. His hair had grown out a bit making him look wilder, more unkempt. His beard was thicker and it tickled your cheeks but you were too busy being kissed out of your mind.

His kisses grew desperate. He pushed until your back hit the door. His hands wrapped around you and squeezed your ass. He growled low in his throat. He trailed his lips across your jaw, your cheek, your eye, and then dipped to your neck.

“I really missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured against your neck.

“I really fuckin’ missed you, too.”

He rested his forehead against yours and huffed. You rubbed your hands along his massive arms, back, and thin waist. It was criminal how slutty his waist was. You needed to remember him all over again. Every plane and dip of his body. You needed to re-learn all of his looks and smiles.

“Upstairs. Now.” He leaned back far enough for you to scoot from under him. You scurried to the stairs and a swift smack to your ass made you cry out. “Not fast enough.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you nearly ran up the stairs. Steve thundered behind you, taking the stairs two at a time for your every one step. Your heart pounded in your chest. Pretty soon, it would burst through and run down the street.

Your head felt light. You were equal parts dizzy and free. He spun your head around and you only wanted more.

You didn’t know where he wanted you to go. So far, he’d only fucked you in his office. You hesitated at the top of the stairs. Steve grabbed you by the waist once more and picked you up.

You yelped. You slapped at his arms as he threw you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. “Steve! Put me down!”

You bounced a little as he carried you to a room. You had a perfect view of his ass as it moved in his tight jeans. You were too busy holding on to his belt to properly smack him back. He, however, smacked yours. His big hands caressed your thighs and you clenched painfully. Your thighs tingled. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Are you scared?” He asked.

“Yes! This is…”

Steve flipped you and threw you onto a bed. You bounced and steadied yourself with your hands. You looked at him as he grinned at you.

“I will pick you up whenever…” He leaned down and kissed your calf. “Wherever…” He kissed your knee. “However…” He kissed your thigh. “I damn well please.” He used his nose to lift your shirt and kissed your belly, right on your stretch marks.

You sighed and played with his hair. “Don’t tease me, Steve. Not today,” you said.

He smirked at you and placed more kisses on your tummy. “Afraid not, sweetheart. I have been dreaming of getting back in between your thighs, so I’m going to take my time.”

Your mouth dropped open and your hands stopped their searching. “Steve…”

He chuckled softly. “I’ve been gone a long time. I need to enjoy this. Just like I know you need to enjoy this. So let me,” he said. He trained those deep blue eyes on you. A faint smile curved his lips.

“Okay,” you said and smiled.

His grin was like the first ray of dawn. It lit up his whole face. Your answering smile made his eyes dip slowly. “You can say no at any time. Only say it and I will,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I want this,” you said.

If possible, his smile only grew. He stood up and looked down at you. You were able to see more of the room. His room was still in progress but it already felt so much like him. There weren’t a lot of frivolous things on his dresser or bookshelf.

His cover was soft but practical. It was a deep blue and incredible to the tough. The mattress was a little stiff but not horrible. You rubbed your hands over it as you looked back at Steve. You had one leg down and one leg up on the bed. He grabbed your ankle of the leg that was up and pulled.

“I gotta inspect you first,” he said.

“What?” That caught you so off guard that you cricked your neck glancing at him.

“I’ve been gone a long time, sweetheart. I gotta make sure you followed my directions,” he said.

Oh god. He was serious about that. When he left without saying a word, you woke up to a text saying that you weren’t allowed to get yourself off or let any other man near you. You had laughed. He couldn’t be serious. Sure, you liked the way he manhandled you, but that rubbed against the grain.

But no, he was serious. So serious, that he called immediately and demanded that you not touch yourself. Like…at all. And baby. You were so frustrated. You felt like you’d die if you didn’t get filled up with something.

Steve began to trail his fingers up and down your legs. When he rubbed the underside of your thighs, you whimpered. You bit your lip. Steve’s eyes seemed to grow edgier. He narrowed them as he continued to glide his fingers on your bare legs.

It was so quiet in the room, that you heard how loud and desperate you were getting. You probably looked pathetic. You gripped your shorts. It was a mixture of wanting to cry and wanting to laugh from the sensation.

“Please, don’t. Don’t tease me. I followed your directions,” you said.

“How do I know that for certain? You could’ve been a bad girl,” he said. He reached for your shorts and unbuttoned them. He pulled them roughly over your thick thighs.

You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Steve opened your legs as far as they would go. He looked at your lacy white panties. No garters this time. You couldn’t stand anything more than a simple set for the past few weeks.

Between the heat and lack of sex, you were stuck in the middle of uncomfortable and turned on.

You shook your head. “I swear. I listened,” you said.

“You still have to prove it, sweetheart,” he said.

There was nothing you could say to change his mind. You were at his whim and it didn’t frighten you. It should. It definitely should but it didn’t.

Still holding your knees open, he leaned down and sniffed your pussy. You gasped at finally getting some stimulation. You were incredibly sensitive. He pressed his nose in, rubbing you up and down through your panties. You sighed and moaned. You tossed your head back and forth and dug your nails into his covers.

“I need more,” you whined.

“I know what you need.” He kissed your pussy and you moaned again. He kissed his way up your center. He kissed your tummy. He licked certain areas and bit in other places. The alternating pain and tickles drove you insane.

He skirted his fingers down your side before he moved it down to your aching cunt. You whined as he rubbed you outside of your panties. It felt good, sure, but you needed more. You needed direct contact.

You tapped pathetically at his arm. “I need more,” you said.

“It’s my inspection, sweetheart. You’ll get what I want you to get,” he said.

You cried again and writhed under his excellent fingers. He increased his pressure and you started mumbling and making noises. You got so, so close.

Steve stalled his fingers and pressed into your clit. “No, no, no no,” you cried. Fuck, you were so close. Just a little more.

“Shhh,” Steve said. He moved his hand up and pushed on your lower tummy. It flipped and you breathed through it. Steve breathed with you and you stared into his eyes as you came down.

Steve leaned back when you had calmed down and looked at you. “You’ve made a mess in your panties, sweetheart,” his voice rumbled in his chest.

Your aching pussy clenched and you cried a bit. “Please, Steve. I was good. I swear,” you pleaded.

You needed to cum right this second. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He sat up and tugged on your panties until they were past your feet. He gripped your thighs in his big hands and spread you. He looked his fill at your wet pussy. You were leaking down your ass cheek.

He just sat there, looking at the way you clenched around nothing. Your body was electric. Heat suffused you. Your desire continued a slow trail out of you. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

Steve ran his index finger through your damp curls. He moved his finger until he spread you and swiped at your pussy. You bucked off of the bed. You were not prepared for that simple little motion.

Your nub was hard as he slid his finger through your folds. You cried out and bit your lip. The painful bite paled in comparison to the magic Steve was working with his fingers. Pressure built in your lower belly as your legs began to shake.

“Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone, sweetheart?”

“Whaa?” You couldn’t concentrate on his voice and concentrate on getting off. You didn’t know how much longer you could last through this torture. You’d give up the nuclear codes if it meant that he would just let you cum.

“Did you touch what was mine?” He asked.

“No, I swear.” Your throat burned from how hard you were panting. Your fingers twisted in his covers.

He slid his finger inside of you with no warning. He hummed as if he was satisfied with how you squeezed his fingers. He slid another one in and you dropped your mouth open. “You can take more than that,” he said. He pushed a third finger into you and you grinded on his fingers. He stretched you so well.

“That’s it,” he said. He coached you through taking his fingers. He told you when to slow down and when to speed up. He encouraged you to fuck his fingers and prove how good you were for him.

“Ohhh,” you repeated over and over. Desire pooled in your tummy. You squeezed his fingers. “That’s my girl. Just like that, sweetheart.”

It was the ‘sweetheart’ that did you in. You came with a fierce moan and clamped down on his fingers. Your eyes crossed as you shook and jerked. Steve continued to move his fingers into you.

“That’s my girl. You’re so fucking pretty when you cum,” he said. He stared at you and the pretty faces you were making for him.

You panted as you came down. Sweat clung to your body. Your harsh breath blew across your damp stomach. When he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers out of you and licked his fingers. You cried at this sight. His hand glistened with your slick and you cried again.

“I want to keep going, but I need to cum in that pussy.”

“Fuck, yes, Steve.” You whined and turned doe eyes on him.

Steve yanked at his sweatpants and pulled them off in one go. His tank top went next. He snapped it on the floor. He climbed onto the bed and used his big thighs to push your legs back.

You had a proper ache beginning in your back but you didn’t care. You were about to have the ride of your life.

Steve grabbed his thick cock and glided it through your wet arousal. He circled your clit with it and you licked your lips. Fuck, why did that feel so good?

No more games. You hiked your legs onto his waist and he pushed at your entrance. He kept going, pushing into you. You brought your hand up to push against him. He felt too good. You dug your nails into his chest and he grunted.

“Steve…oh god,” you said. You didn’t know what you were trying to say but pleasure robbed you of speech. It robbed you of thinking clearly.

He kept pushing in until he bottomed out and you both groaned out. He collapsed on top of you as if he couldn’t support himself anymore. He groaned and bit your titty through your shirt.

“Fuck, I missed this sweet pussy,” he groaned into your ear. “Oh fuck,” he continued.

You bit at his shoulder as he twitched inside of you. You squeezed his dick and made him groan again. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said.

He pushed himself up and off to the side. He lifted your shirt and palmed your breasts through your bra. He lowered each cup and began to lick on your left nipple. He moaned as he laved at it with the flat of his tongue. With each swipe, you felt more desire in your belly. You clenched his dick and he groaned.

He started to move. You were so wet, he almost had a hard time staying in. He began to stroke you deep and hard and slow.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuck,” you moaned.

He switched to your other nipple and paid it the same attention he did the other one. He nipped at your nipple and you jerked beneath him.

“Let me hear it, sweetheart. Give me one more,” he said. He twitched his hips and reached a spot hidden deep within you.

You cried out soundlessly and stared agape at him. You grabbed at his chest leaving thin red streaks in his skin.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breath for me,” he said. He hit that deep spot over and over. You stared into his eyes as he smiled patiently and adoringly at you.

“You feel so good. And you’ve been such a good girl for me. Taking all of me. I’m so proud of you,” he said.

“Fuuuuck,” you screamed as you came. The way your thighs locked Steve to you, made him tense as he came deep within you. Hot jets of his come squirted inside of you. You felt it all. You felt so full and blissed out. You closed your eyes and rode your orgasm silently. He had fucked all of the breath out of you.

“I missed you, sweetheart. I missed this pussy too. Stay with me tonight,” he said.

“What?” You croaked out.

“Stay with me. I’m gonna need to reassert my place right here,” he said and stroked you again.

“Steve, please. I can’t. No more,” you pleaded.

“Say you’ll stay. I’ve got three weeks worth of load to fill you up with.” He pushed in and out of you with a slow glide so that you felt every inch of him. Every ridge and vein.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, I’ll stay.”

Your eyes were turning watery. You blinked up at him and his cocky smile. “That’s my girl,” he said. And he took you again until you were dizzy with pleasure and making sure the whole neighborhood heard how Steve was tearing you apart.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

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