#shes stitched on very roughly but its my flannel man leave me alone

[ellies-enrichment]

his emotional support jacket

[shotsbyshae]

Apocalyptic

Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Smutish 

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Steve has a run in with a demon. There’s just one problem, you have a history with said demon.

Song: Apocalyptic by Halestorm

A/N: Monster of the Week. The third part in the Hunter Steve series. 

We’re not us anymore, but there’s still one thing we’re good for.

You’re not sure when the lines started to blur.

Which one of you lost your way first?

Steve when he met you and started hunting, or you, when you chose him?

In your heart, you knew Tony was right about the Accords. You should have been on his side, but you weren’t.

The damage had been done and there was no going back.

Now, the two of you are a couple of fugitives hiding in plain sight, hunting monsters the rest of world isn’t even aware exist.

Long gone are the five-star hotels, now it’s back to the unwelcomed familiarity of fleabag motels.

Luckily, you still have some trusted contacts.

The sound of the rain pinging against the tin roof is comforting. Jody had offered you her cabin when she found out you were on a hunt close to it and for that you are grateful. After a scalding hot shower, you rummage through the small bathroom cabinet for a first-aid kit.

Steve stands on the opposite side of the door from you. The two of you flat against the outside wall of the cabin, pistols held closely to both your chests. No one would recognize him, the man who was once a hero to the world. Captain America.

A good man.

They made him a perfect soldier.

But the world we live in broke him – made him hard.

His hair is getting longer, and a dark beard now covers his chiseled jaw. A contrast from the man you first met, he’s no longer the clean-cut boy scout.

Steve Rogers is rugged and, maybe, a bit unhinged.

He holds up his fingers to countdown from three. He gives you a nod of his head after reaching ‘one’, turns to face the door, and he takes a step back before he kicks the door in. It sounds like an explosion as the entire door is ripped from the frame and wood splinters as it crashes onto the floor.

Steve’s not very good at subtle.

Growling erupts from inside the cabin and Steve aims his gun instinctively at one of the werewolves you’ve tracked to this cabin. You follow close behind him, checking the opposite side of the cabin. There’s another shot from behind you as a man lunges towards you from the hallway. You fire a round into his chest, knocking him back into the wall. Watching as he crumples to the floor, you hear glass shattering and wood crunching behind you. It’s a blur of motion as everything happens so fast. Turning quickly and aiming your pistol, you see a large man that Steve’s apparently thrown into an entertainment center. Steve goes for his gun, which was knocked to the floor during their scuffle apparently, and another man comes from nowhere seemingly. The monster manages one swipe down with his hand before you can get two shots off into his chest. One of its claws tearing through the fabric of Steve’s dark blue flannel and ripping across his shoulder blade.

The angry growl that cuts through the air of the cabin this time is from Steve. You’re moving to check on him when a piece wood slams against the side of your face, knocking you to the floor. There’s another gunshot as you begin to push yourself up from the floor, then two more shots echo through the room. You see Steve rolling the dead body of a werewolf off from on top of him before he stands up slowly. His shirt is drenched in blood and for a moment you worry some of the blood is his. Your concerns are put at ease as you stand, and he glances over to you. The hair that was loosely slicked back, now falls into his face as he gives you a wide tooth smile. He swipes at his cheek with the back of his hand, blood smearing across the exposed skin.

“You good?” you question, walking over to him as you wipe the blood away from the cut on your cheek.

He rolls his injured shoulder gingerly, “I’ll live.”

“Good to know,” you smirk, tucking your pistol in the back of your jeans as Steve starts to lean into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust and you take a quick step back, the stench of the blood covering him makes you want to gag. “Ugh, you smell like a wet dog.”

You walk into the small bedroom, holding the white and red box above your triumphantly, “Look what I found.”

Steve glances at you from the edge of the bed, eyes narrowing at what you’re wearing, “That’s mine.”

The red and black flannel you had to roll the sleeves up on is surprisingly warm and you smile as you crawl onto the bed behind him, “I know.” You delicately trace the edges of the wound with your finger, it’s not deep enough to need stitches. He doesn’t flinch as you clean and bandage it. “All done,” you say sweetly, letting him know your finished.  

He pulls himself further onto the bed, turning to watch as you close up the first-aid kit. His thumb brushes the gash on your cheek that hasn’t healed yet. His breath warm against your cheek as he questions softly, “Do you?”

You know exactly what he’s asking as you move your hand up to the back of his neck, fingers twirling the length of hair that curls there as you say, “I have blood bag. I was taking care of you first.”

His lips brush gently across the cut before he takes your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to look at him. Those blue eyes gaze into your soul for a moment before he leans in, voice so low it sends a chill down your spine, “My turn then.” He presses his lips against yours softly before deepening the kiss. His tongue slips past your lips and before you realize it, he’s on top of you, pinning you to the mattress. Hips grinding against yours, only the thin material of his blue pajama pants acting as a barrier as he kisses you roughly once more. When his lips leave yours, there’s a sense of abandonment and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him sliding lower.

You’re not sure if heaven exists, but if it’s not this man’s face between your thighs, what’s the point?

One look from him and you’re done for.

Putty in his hands, to do with as he pleases.

Completely soaked before his tongue ever reaches you.

Steve loves it.

***

The two of you decide to spend a few extra days at Jody’s cabin, take a little extra down time. It’s secluded enough and the next afternoon the two of you head to the nearest town to pick up a few necessities. While in the small convenience store the familiar sound of a scuffle is heard a few aisles over and you both tense up as you glance over to see what’s happening. There’s a man in a ball cap fighting off another man who’s wielding a large knife.

After a couple punches, the man in the ball cap throws the guy into a magazine display before stabbing him with what appears to be some sort of knife of his own. You see the bright orange light flash in the other man’s eyes, as does Steve. Demon.

The stranger in the ball cap brushes his jacket off as he tucks his weapon away before heading for the exit. You and Steve exchange glances before moving to follow him. Once outside, you’re surprised to see the man leaning against your car, the ball cap lying on the hood beside him.

“Dean,” you say his name quietly as you approach him.

A malicious smile spreads across his face as he blinks, revealing pitch black eyes, “Kinda.” You try to take a step back, but he grabs your wrist to stop you as his eyes return to their normal green state.  

“Your friend’s a demon?” Steve questions apprehensively.

“Where’s Dean?” you seethe.

“This is me now,” he responds, the smug smile still on his lips as he drags a finger along your jaw. “Crossed over to the dark side – just like you.”

“Leave her alone,” Steve threatens, taking a step closer.

Dean cuts his eyes at him for a beat before looking back down at you. A wicked gleam in his eye, “This is going to be fun.” His hand grabs the back of your head roughly, before his mouth crashes against yours.

There’s barely time for you to register the action as Steve rips him away from you, landing a punch to Dean’s jaw. The green-eyed man takes a few steps backwards, wiping the blood from his lip, as Steve stalks towards him. He dodges the next punch Rogers throws at him, quickly landing one of his own to the hunters face, before shoving him toward the car.

“I used to fuck her too,” the demon says coldly. “She was still human then.”

The words sting and you watch as Steve lunges towards him, the two of them going toe to toe. It’s a flurry of punches, blocks, kicks, and a consistent battle as to which man has the upper hand in the fight. Steve has murder in his eyes, and you know there’s only one way this fight will end. With one of them not walking away and your body goes numb at the thought.

“Are you bloody kidding me?” a British voice states from beside you, causing you to jump as you glance over. There stands a man dressed in a solid black suit, shaking his head in disgust as he watches the fight. “Picking a fight with Clark Kent. Seriously?”

Steve manages to get the upper hand as he slams Dean back against the car, producing the other demon’s blade from the store, having grabbed it on his way out earlier. He shoves the blade up to Dean’s throat as he glares at him, breathing heavily.

“Darling,” Crowley states to you and a smug smile crosses Dean’s lips. Rogers presses the blade harder against his throat as the man in black lifts his hand threateningly. “Call off your boy toy before I snap his neck for the fun of it.”

“Steve,” you move quickly to his side, grabbing the wrist he’s holding the knife with and he cuts his eyes down at you, the rage boiling just under the surface. “Please.”

“He’s a demon,” he seethes through gritted teeth. The blood from his busted lip has seeped through his beard and is now beginning to drip from his chin. “We hunt monsters – remember?”

“Not this time,” you plead with him. “Let him go.” You say it, not only because the other man threatened to kill him, but you can’t let him kill Dean. Even if he’s not Dean. He stares at you in confusion for a moment before he lowers his hand slowly, anger still apparent on his face.

“Tell Sammy I said hello,” the snarky comment falls from Dean’s mouth as he moves past you over to Crowley, who is giving him an angry look. Dean shrugs his shoulders. “What? I had him.”

“Didn’t look like it,” Crowley remarks. “You’re getting soft.”

They’re gone in the blink of an eye and you look away from the judgmental gaze of the man standing in front of you. The car ride back to the cabin is silent and your entire body is vibrating with nervous energy as you walk through the door, knowing Steve’s right behind you and that his anger hasn’t subsided.

“Want to tell me what happened back there?” he finally questions after shutting the door too hard.

“I don’t know, I’ve not talked to them in a few months.”

“Bull shit,” his tone is harsh. “That asshole wanted to kill me, and you let him walk away. Who was he to you?”

“A friend,” you open the refrigerator door, needing alcohol for this discussion.

“More than that,” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “What’s so special about him?” There’s almost a snarl in his voice. “Tell me.”

“Because at one time he believed in me!” you scream at him as you turn around, slamming the door to the refrigerator. You take a deep breath, lowering your voice, “I owe him the same. If Dean was really gone, no hope of saving him. We wouldn’t have to kill him. Sam would.”

Steve watches you closely as you twist the top of the beer in your hand before you turn it up for a few seconds. His voice is a bit calmer as he says, “So, he knew you when you were human?”

You nod slowly before taking another sip from the bottle as Steve moves to sit on the bar stool closest to him. “I asked him to kill me – after I was turned.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise at this revelation. “He and Sam were convinced I could control it. Said if anyone could, it was me.”

“They were right,” he says quietly and notices the flash of sadness in your eyes.

“It was a rough few months, but we made it and things went back to normal – sort of,” you state as you stare blankly at the kitchen counter in front of you. “I went back to hunting but –”

He watches as you trail off and picks up, “Things were different between the two of you.”

Glancing up at him, a sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips, “Dean got to see the worst of me during that time. The twisted, dark part that my vampire side can bring out. Having known me before – it was hard for him. I don’t blame him.”

Steve shakes his head as you finish speaking, “His loss.” You give him an appreciative grin as you place your beer on the countertop and slowly walk around the corner. “Giving you up.” His hands take yours, fingers interlacing with yours as you move closer between his knees.

“For the record,” you begin, “I wouldn’t have let him kill you.”

“Is that so?” his hands release yours and move to slip around your waist, dragging you closer him.

You eyes flick from his, down to the corner of his mouth where there’s a few fresh droplets of blood from the cut on his lip. Your hands slide across his shoulders, a smirk playing on your lips as you say quietly, “Yea, you seem to like all my parts.” Pressing your mouth to the corner of his, your tongue runs along the split there. The perfect mix of sweet and salty. Your very own guilty pleasure as your teeth bite gently on the lip to draw more blood from the wound, sucking it into your mouth.

His fingers dig against your skin as he pulls you tighter against him, breathing heavy words against your mouth, “I love all your parts.”

Your hands cup either side of his face as you make small swipes with your tongue, cleaning the blood from his beard.

You feel his body tremble at your action and him twitch through his jeans against your thigh.

So hard – you love it.

You run the tip of your tongue along the wound once more before slipping inside his mouth to press your tongue against his. He’s on his feet as he kisses you back and you’re off the ground, one arm lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he begins to walk towards the bedroom.

The two of you have changed.

May be a little lost.

Twisted even.

But there’s one thing you’re both good for.