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speechlessxx · 4 years ago

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my house of stone, your ivy grows & now i’m covered in you.

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

with a side of Prince/King!Peter Parker x Reader

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

summary -> engaged to the Prince of Arachnia, the young maiden finds her heart calling out the name of another.

warnings-> infidelity. age gap! (reader’s age isn’t explicitly said but she’s younger than Steve). poorly & awkwardly written SMUT. (includes: unprotected sex, brief fingering, slight breeding kink). rambles. angst. fluff. lots of tension. bittersweet ending :)

A/N -> for smut part, please scroll if you are not 18+. MINORS DNI

word count -> 12k+ !!! this one’s a lengthy one & i had no intentions of turning it into a series. it just got long.

Buy Me A Kofi

At the ripe age of five-years-old, you were plucked from your childhood, abandoning all the childish whims and adventures to be groomed to be the perfect wife. No more rolling in the dirt with your older brothers or mucking about the stables with the horses or fencing with sticks that substituted the steel bladed swords.

It all quickly became sewing needles and recipes, cleaning and books balanced on your crown.

You were taught it all.

How to behave. How to stand or sit. How to greet and host. How to exist in silence because “a lady is to be seen and never heard,” as your teacher, Madam Morris, would say. The many lessons were engraved into your mind while the meaningless tasks and skills became muscle memory.

Be pious. Be kind. Smile. Be what your husband wants. Laugh. (no, not like that). Do as your husband says. Be interesting but not too much. Never overshadow your husband. Don’t disappoint or you will bring shame upon your family.

What a burden to place on the shoulders of a young teen though it was expected of you. Coming from an aristocratic family, it was all you ever knew: “get a husband and make us proud”.

As the years droned on and you approached adulthood, the pressure to marry became more and more prominent. And when you shed past your teen years as an unmarried young adult, the disappointment and shame began to show. Your family throwing distaste your way with snide remarks and mocking smirks.

The embarrassment felt as if it had been painted across your cheeks and you grew restless, convincing yourself to accept any opportunities of marriage just to be rid of their cruelty.

So, when the Prince of Arachnia arrived at your father’s estate and asked for permission to court you, you had no choice but to accept.

Prince Peter Benjamin Parker was nothing short of the perfect gentleman. As you walked, he’d ensure that you were safely tucked into his side opposite of the streets. He’d hold your hand steady as you exited carriages. He’d leave chaste kisses on your forehead or knuckles – almost always on your left ring finger – even though your chaperone would throw a disapproving glance his way.

You thought of him as charming with his tousled, dark brown curls with matching eyes that squinted as he smiled or laughed harder than he intended.

“He would make a great king someday,” your father would sing his praises. “And you, my dove, will be his fine queen.”

You were never fond of these comments, never finding any appreciation or gratitude when they were uttered to you. Though the thought of being queen would make any young girl giddy with excitement, you found an odd sensation of dread within you.

You weren’t sure where the feelings had originated from. Were you nervous about being a queen? About the responsibility of running not only an estate but an entire country as well? Or was it the fact you would forever be labeled as his queen rather than the queen? Did you detest the idea of belonging to another person for the rest of your life?

“Are you alright?” His voice brought you back into the present. You swallowed as you turned away from the window facing the garden of roses that your mother was so proud of to face the prince. You curtseyed although he’s told you many times it was unnecessary.

“I’m grand,” you lied with a weary smile though he bought it all the same.

Peter grinned a toothy smile as he took your hand in his. It was then you felt the weight of the engagement ring on your finger. The sapphire blue was an oval shape, large enough to cover the skin of your knuckle. The center jewel adorned a halo of smaller diamonds. All this sitting on the delicate white gold band that wrapped around your finger like a shackle.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the sapphire. “I shall be counting down the days,” he whispered in the quiet room. You forced another smile and nodded.

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

Arachnia wasn’t a large country nor was it tiny either. It had eight main roads that extended into the towns with the capital and its palace in the center. It had been said that the main roads were all equal in length so that everyone was at an equal distance from the palace though you weren’t so sure that there was truth to this. Your father’s estate sat near the south of Arachnia, in one of the nicer towns. The ride to Peter’s real home felt like an eternity.

It had been his idea, of course, that you be brought to the palace months ahead of the wedding. “Life in the castle is different to life in the towns,” he told you before, weeks into your courtship, “Everyone’s always watching.” He reasoned that the prying eyes needed to get used to the presence of his future queen, but you understood it all the same – that although it was crucial that you adjust to court, it was equally, if not more so, important that the court adjust to you.

“I will give you the grand tour,” he said as you put your head on his shoulder. The journey, although short, had picked at your energy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep, but his excited chatter kept pulling you back into consciousness. As much as you wanted to tell him to pipe down, you knew you couldn’t. Not only was he your husband to be, but he was also your soon to be king. “There’s fountains and gardens – I had them plant roses like the ones in your mother’s – “

The words became muddled nonsense as you slowly dozed off. The journey and your sleepless night, picking at the skin on your fingers, had finally caught up to you, making your eyelids heavy with sleep.

You jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump. You and Peter’s head slammed into each other, waking you both. You groaned, rubbing the spot as he mirrored you.

“You alright?” Peter asked you. You nodded, still rubbing the spot. Peter leaned over and kissed it and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been rather quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

You shook your head. “No, your highness,” you said. “I am just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Don’t be.” Peter chuckled. “The kingdom will fall in love with you just as I have.”

“And if they do not? Shall you find another bride?”

Peter’s smile faltered before shaking his head. “Those who do not immediately fall for my queen are mad and I shall find them the greatest court physician to treat their delusions.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You placed your head against his and took in a shaky breath.

There it was again. My queen. Another reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. That as soon as vows are exchanged and he places another band on top of the enormous ring you already wore, you were completely his to own.

And suddenly that sweet moment, wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, was cut short as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

After weeks following your arrival in the center of Arachnia, it still didn’t feel like your home, rather it was Peter’s. The maids didn’t follow your orders nor did the kitchen staff. Heavens knows that the knights and the other noblemen wouldn’t acknowledge you. It felt as if no one knew your name, save for Prince Peter and his aunt, Lady May Parker.

You were merely a stranger in their court, the soon to be king’s guest.

Although the preparations for Peter’s coronation should’ve been your duty, Lady Parker seized the job, citing that you weren’t the queen just yet. “Let me alleviate you of this, Lady (Y/N).” She told you with a smile. “After your marriage, I shall step aside and allow you all the duties as the lady of the castle.” And in many ways, you were grateful that this was not your responsibility for the coronation of Prince Peter Parker had been long awaited for.

After Peter’s uncle, King Benjamin, passed and with Peter’s father long gone before then, the young prince was suddenly eyed to be the king. However, the councilmen thought that the boy was too young – too green to be king. They waited years until Peter came of age and once he finally did, they refused a peaceful transition of power. Instead, there were harsh rumors that the kingdom would be handed to Brooklyn’s King.

This debacle led to rumors of unrest and threats of civil war. It felt as if the entire continent held its breath as it stared at Arachnia, waiting for the violence to begin.

If King Anthony of Starken and Lady Parker did not intervene, then there would’ve been lives lost and a country torn. An agreement was made between House Parker and their council: that before Peter may take the throne, he must either be married or engaged, so that the line of succession may be secured.

And with your presence and Peter’s sapphire ring, the crown became his in an instant.

Nearly three weeks before his coronation, lords and ladies along with royals from other countries flocked to Arachnia to celebrate its king.

Lady Parker and Prince Peter introduced you to so many people in the coming days that none of their names truly stuck. All except one.

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

The tall, broad man strode through the castle halls. His royal blue clothes made his eyes pop in the daylight. You thought he was beautiful. His presence demanded attention and he walked with a knowing smirk. Cocky. Arrogant. You profiled as he stood in front of Peter, towering over him.

Peter, still a prince, bowed to him as you did. “You’re younger than I expected.” The King’s voice was contradicting to his loud presence. His tone was even and steady like soft currents of a river or the expert strokes of a painter upon a canvas. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you until Peter called your name.

“King Steven, allow me to introduce my bride to be, Lady (Y/N).” Peter’s brow glistened with sweat though he stood tall. He was nervous. You could tell by the way his pitch was higher than it usually was. Under the king’s eye, he felt inferior. Insecure, even. Because although Peter was charming and slender, King Steven was intimidatingly handsome and built. Peter looked like a prince whereas Steven exuded the confidence of the king and looked like it, too.

You knew of the history between Brooklyn and Arachnia. There had been rumors that if Prince Peter could not get the crown, that the entire country would become part of Brooklyn’s, part of this other king’s domain.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” the king smiled at you and your eyes rounded as butterflies erupted from your stomach. He took your hand in his and you felt goosebumps rise all over your skin. A nervous, ragged breath escaped you as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles like Peter’s done a million times.

But your reaction was different. Your face went hot, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel it between your legs, a feeling you had never felt before. Pulsing. Throbbing.

King Steven’s hand lingered over yours for a few seconds more, thumb grazing your skin and over the sapphire. You suddenly felt embarrassed – as beautiful as the ring was, it was so large that it looked odd on your dainty hand.

“Beautiful ring,” he complimented with a nod to Peter. “Excellent taste.” It wasn’t clear if the king was complimenting the ring or the young woman who wore it and no one dared question such a distinguished man.

You pulled your hand away from his with a bow of your head. You couldn’t look him in the eye for a second more. “Thank you for joining us, your majesty.”

The king smiled at your fiancé before nodding. “I look forward to your coronation, Peter. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant event.”

You forced a smile as you and your fiancé greeted the next guest. The pleasantries and introductions fell upon deaf ears because as you looked up, searching through the crowd, your eyes immediately found his already staring back at you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

It felt as if there was a party every single day. A festival in the courtyard. A feast every night. You began to wonder where was all this money coming from – were the people being taxed heavily for the enjoyment of the upper class? Lady Parker assured you that Arachnia was well funded and that where the expenses exceeded their budget, they were handled by King Anthony, who considered it an early marriage present.

You sat like a decorated ornament next to Peter, surrounded by the other royals at a round table. You felt out of place in a gown made from your town’s finest tailor whereas the queens and princesses around you wore one-of-a-kind pieces. You were reminded, again, that you were just an aristocrat’s daughter, the fiancé of a king sitting among the men and women that bards wrote songs about.

You felt as if you were set to be the butt of the joke in another round of ridicule as King Anthony drew his attention from teasing Peter to you.

“You,” he began, words a bit slurred due to the ale in his overflowing cup, “are very gorgeous. My love,” he directed to his wife, Queen Virginia, “don’t you agree?”

“Yes, you are a delight, Lady (Y/N).” The strawberry blonde smiled at you. You returned the smile, timidly.

“Likewise, your majesty,” you returned before nodding your head to the rest of the table. “All of you are wonderful.” Truthfully, many of their names went over your head and to save yourself the embarrassment, you refrained from calling any of them by name, only saying simple titles like your majesty and my lord or lady.

“Lady (Y/N),” the princess from the foreign land, Sokovia you think, called your attention. You believe her name was Wanda, or at least that was what the King of Hawksview called her. “Are you excited for whatever adventures marriage will bring you?” Her tone was drunk and teasing. It was clear what she was alluding to though you weren’t quite sure if you caught on.

“Oh, dear,” Peter chuckled, awkwardly, obviously understanding. His face a beet red as he patted your hand that sat on your lap. “Dove, you do not need to answer.”

“Dove?” King Steven, the one man you knew by name, questioned from across the round table. He sat directly in front of you and you swore he sat there deliberately.

“It’s what my father calls me,” you explained though your voice was a bit scratchy, your throat dry. You coughed before taking a sip from your barely touched ale, finding the taste quite revolting. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat as you felt the prying eyes of the Brooklyn King stare through you as if you were glass.

“Dove.” He repeated, trying the petname out. “Sweet. Innocent.”

“Oh, you stop teasing, Steve,” the woman with dark red hair rolled her eyes. You remembered her being called Nat though you did remember her from your history lessons. Queen Natalia Romanova of Widow’s Peak, the queen who paved the way for women on the battlefield. She was revered and you were in awe when you met her.

“If we’re teasing, shall we jest about how Steven has yet to marry?” The prince from Asgard laughed. He pushed his long black hair over his shoulder as his older brother, the blonde – the King – swatted at his forearm with the back of his hand as if to say be quiet.

Steven smirked, eyes shifting to his lap, before chuckling. “Laugh and tease all you want,” he said, grabbing his cup and bringing it to his lips.

“Why is it you haven’t married?” Queen Natasha’s husband, Bruce – you think – asked.

Attention shifted back to Brooklyn’s king as he shrugged, taking another swig from his cup. His eyes darted around the table as if gaging – studying – the group.

You found it odd. Many of the royals around you considered the others their closest friends, yet here he was, a mystery to them still. It was as if he was content with going unseen and unheard. You could understand.

“C’mon, Stevie,” King Anthony taunted with a pet name. The blonde’s jaw tensed for a moment but quickly released. You frowned at that – was there tension between the two kings? “Handsome, wealthy king with vast holdings and a powerful kingdom, yet no marriage? It’s like you’re not trying, Steven.”

The Brooklyn king chuckled again, brows lifting with an amused look. His eyes met yours and you felt your face go hot again. Your gown shifted underneath the table as your knee bumped Peter’s when you crossed your legs. He looked away.

“I would not get married simply because I need a crown,” his eyes shifted to Peter before shifting back to his cup, “or I need an alliance, or my country requires finances or resources. Brooklyn’s striving under my rule.” He said it so calmly and smugly as if he weren’t throwing condescending comments about his friends’ marriages right in front of them.

“If I were to get married,” Steven’s ocean eyes met yours again like the waves crashing into a shore, “it would be because I’m in love.”

You shifted in your seat, that pulsing, throbbing ache returning as you held his stare. You bit your lip before nervously breaking the eye contact to pick at the bread roll on your plate.

You suddenly jumped when Peter draped his arm around your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to do so, too preoccupied to appear occupied. He shot you a worried glance, but you gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“Well, I, for one,” he smiled, “am marrying for love.” Peter pressed a kiss to your temple, and you felt your smile drop for a second. Just a mere second – maybe even less.

No one noticed, you assured yourself with a relieved exhale. You scanned the round table to find that everyone smiled at you and your fiancé with dopey grins, staring at the two children in love. However, Steven’s was different.

No… The king had a knowing smirk on his face as if to say, I saw.

»————-　⚜　————-«

With the coronation in a fortnight, you and Peter found yourselves on edge. Your shoulders always felt tense which left an ache in your neck, leaving you to rub out the knots but to no avail.

Peter’s nerves made him jittery. During meals, his leg bounced up and down with nerves. The sudden movement often shaking the table, leaving you in an annoyed silence. To cope with his pending coronation nerves, the young prince whisked himself into meaningless tasks and hobbies in hopes to distract himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that he often left you to yourself, leaving you to dwell in your unease on your own.

You confided in Lady Parker about your nerves though she returned your concern with a small frown. “You aren’t getting coronated, why are you nervous?” She chuckled dismissively. You nearly snapped then but was able to stop yourself before saying anything offensive to Lady Parker.

Deciding that your thoughts were better left unsaid, you isolated yourself in the stairwell on the south wing of the castle. In your time here at Arachnia, this quickly became your favorite spot. The south wing was nowhere near the bustling crowds of guests and their parties, making it the quietest place in the castle at times. There was a wide window that stood above the stairs; it brought in gorgeous sunlight and you often found yourself basking in its warmth.

However, with your troubled thoughts, the south wing stairwell’s window brought you no comfort at all as you gnawed on the bump on the inside of your cheek. It was a habit you picked up when you were being taught to be a lady – a lady is to be seen and never heard – so you opted to biting back your opinions and retorts, whether it be physical or metaphorical.

Though Lady Parker was right, the coronation was Peter’s worry alone, it would not only be Peter that would be judged and watched by the entire continent the moment that crown is on his head. Even now as a mere lady, the fiancé of their soon to be king, you were burdened with such scrutiny and you were sure that this would only increase three-fold once Peter was crowned king.

The pressures would only worsen once you were dubbed Peter’s queen.

So, you sat pensively in your thoughts near the top of the stairs as you enjoyed the last few months of peace you had left.

“For an engaged woman, I do find you alone too many times,” a voice took you from your thoughts as it carried through the empty stairwell. You looked up and met the amused smirk of King Steven Rogers.

You stood up from your spot and found your footing at the top of the staircase before you curtseyed. “Your majesty,” you greeted.

“Most brides tend to cling to their fiancé, fighting to be by their side every waking moment,” the king mused, quirking an eyebrow up, “but not you.”

“I suppose.”

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to you. You bit your lip before nodding, sitting down again, but this time with the king’s warmth next to you. “Is something on your mind, Lady (Y/N)?”

“No, your majesty,” you said a bit too quickly and he saw through you.

He tutted, knowingly. “I know a troubled lady when I see one,” he pressed. “Please, my lady, speak freely as if I am just a friend.”

“I hadn’t realized I was friends with a king,” you muttered. You felt his eyes on you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stared at your lap.

The conversation stilled as the silence built, but you found comfort in the king’s presence. Although his eyes made you uneasy and nervous, he brought you a strange sense of peace.

His soft chuckle pulled you from your thoughts again. “Lady (Y/N).” He said your name and you glanced over at him with a brow cocked up. “I noticed that you don’t speak, not often, at least.”

“I was taught to never speak unless spoken to.”

He scoffed. “That’s a habit that you’ll grow out of.” He saw confusion flash through your expression and smiled, gently. “A strong, respected queen demands attention as she enters a room. Every step she takes must be a stride of confidence so that no one ever questions her status.”

“A status that my husband, the king, gives me. I cannot over-step. I would undermine him.”

“Peter’s a king,” Steven corrected. “I never said you would over-step, but a true king would ensure that he and his queen are in equal footing.” He cocked his head to the side as he noticed your grimace. “You don’t like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known�� but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter’s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

let me know what y’all think

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

Text

Gifted

pairings - steve rogers x daughter!reader + avengers x teen!reader (aged 18)

word count - 3415

note - i use castiel in this fic as an angel, but it has no relation to supernatural at all, i just love cas :) inspired by this song (specifically this cover), as well as this song.

summary - (y/n) rogers was something of a gift to her father, then a gift to all those who would come to know her. however, it appears as though the gift was born with a gift of her own; the gift of a saviour.

The world around you is a weird type of bright. The kind of bright that might really have hurt your eyes before. But you felt nothing. There was no pain. It had been so long since you had been pain free.

“Who’re you?”

A man turns his head around. He offers something of a smile that makes you feel so safe and so warm. You don't know why his presence feels something like familiar to you. You feel worry, but not enough for it to manifest in your usual shaky hands or sweaty back. You feel rested, your bones don’t ache and your breath comes easy. The man turns his whole body now, taking a few slow steps towards you in the white room. That whiteness of the room around you makes his cerulean blues appear all the more bright, deeper, with all the care of the world swimming in them like the ocean colours they mimicked. “And where am I? I need to get back, people are waiting on me, I have to go home.” The brunette standing across from you now offers you something more akin to a sad grimace, a type of soft sorrow that you expected should panic you a lot more. He sighs softly.

“You are home.”

The words make your eyebrows furrow, eyes darting from side to side as though you were checking to make sure you weren't actually at home. As though your vision might have cheekily fooled you or escaped your heightened senses. It didn’t. You shake your head firmly. “This isn’t my home. Where am i? I need to go to my dad. They need me.” You insist, seemingly beginning to get a lot more anxious despite not actually feeling much of it. You look around again, this time doing a full 360 turn of your surroundings. Everything was completely white, there was nowhere to sit, no bed, no nothing.

You briefly wondered if you had been captured. If this was some kind of torture. Giving you someone who appears kind and calm who will torture information out of you if you didn’t give them what they wanted in a mere few moments. “You’re exactly where you need to be.” The man replies, his eyes remaining soft and yet mixed with delicate concern. “You are home.”

That makes your lip wobble, a choked sob breaking past your lips. “I don’t understand,” you whimper, “Where’s my dad? Where’s my family?” At the mention of the man who taught you to find your strength everywhere, you seem to find it in you to hastily wipe at your eyes and sniff up the remaining desire to sob. “And who the hell are you?”

Your voice is stern this time and the man heaves in a breath before chewing slightly on his lips. “I feel like I know you. Have we met before?” He hears you press when he turns away. As a matter of fact you hadn't met him before, but he had known you for your whole life. “No,” he says simply, “We have never met, but you do know me. You’ve always known me, just like I’ve always known you.”

His talking in tongues just makes you want to cry more, or at the very least scream this time. You don't understand what's going on. You can’t comprehend why you’re here, how you got here on where on earth your family were. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that is going to openly just tell you.

The man is trying to be as soft and gentle as he can with you. He doesn’t want you to get overwhelmed and upset, though many - if not most - people do when they come here. It can be hard to understand, especially when it’s younger people. Or people who had a mission, a specific purpose they felt they had to achieve before they came here. He could tell you were going to be particularly difficult. He had watched you your whole life, he knew the ins and outs of your existence better than even you did and so he was trying to handle this in a way that he knew wouldn’t lead you to wrecking havoc.

“What do you mean?” You press further, the sound of your shoes squeaking ever so slightly on the ground beneath you as you actually walk for the first time to get closer to him. It’s then that you look down at your feet, you’ve never worn shoes that were so comfortable and the outfits that you usually wore were as good as they could get. Tony Stark pretty much custom made everything that you could ever wear, so things fit you to perfection and thus were incredibly comfortable. But you felt like there was no amount of movement, standing or walking that would cause you pain in your feet with these shoes on. “Please, what do you want?” Your voice is so small and shaky and the man turns to you again.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures, and although you were brought up knowing you should never really trust anyone - let alone people you don't even know - there was such a strong part of you that trusted the weird brunette wearing a long tan trench coat with a suit underneath that bore a squinty blue tie. And he said that you knew him. You knew each other. You couldn’t for the life of you explain why you believed every word that he spoke to you. “I would never hurt you. Quite the opposite actually. I’ve been looking out for you since you were born.”

You were so confused. That didn't make any sense. Why wouldn't you know him then? You knew the people who looked out for you. It was as good as a village. Weird people who had all sorts of different powers, people who cared deeply about you and had laid their life on the line for you a million times and more. Why wouldn’t you know this guy?

“Do you remember when you were in school, before you were pulled out?” He asks, prompting you to nod your head with eyebrows furrowed to suggest your confusion. “Before the incident. That bomb that went off from your school bag that you left in the empty bus that day?” He explained, your jaw dropping. “How the hell do you know about that? Who are you?” He can sense that your anxiety is ticking up. Your mind races a mile a minute. Your family had caught the person who put that bomb there. Someone with some kind of vendetta against Steve Rogers, knowing thebest and most painful way to hurt him and send a rippling shockwave through the powerful avengers would be through getting to their youngest and most beloved; Steve Rogers sweet, pretty teenage daughter. They caught that person though. Bucky dealt with them. They were sure of it. It couldn't be him. “Was that you?” You whisper in shock, backing away slightly.

“What?” the man screws his face up in confusion, “No, no of course not.” He shakes his head firmly. “You never left your bag on the bus before. But it had fallen off the seat. Slid all the way to the back of the bus. You just assumed you left it at home. Somebody had to make sure you didn't have it with you when it exploded.”

You didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him with fear, confusion and panic floating around inside your wet eyes.

“What about the time that building you were supposed to be in collapsed, but you weren’t there because a rhino escaped from the Zoo and stopped the traffic.” He continues. “Or the time that assassin very miraculously died before he was able to murder you in Stark tower? What about that time you wandered off when you were a baby, you fell down a whole flight of concrete stairs and left without a bump. Maybe think about the time you got crushed beneath the rubble that giant alien centipede created when it rampaged through your city?”

Tears leaked freely out of your eyes as you were faced with all the times you had escaped death with luck that had made virtually no sense at the time.

“That was me. My name is Castiel; Angel of the Lord. Bestowed upon me was the pleasure of being your guardian angel.”

“My what?!” You yelped.

“Your guardian angel.” He repeated. “Important individuals, the ones God knows the world will need, often are appointed a guardian angel at a point in their life. I was given my orders on March 12th 2002 that i was to protect your mother until December 12th, when my duties moved unto you. When danger faced you, my sole job was to ensure your immediate safety.”

The man, who’s name you now know as Castiel, offers you the gentlest of smiles. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you.” You greatly appreciate his kindness. It appeared you had been lucky enough to have been appointed a guardian angel who was incredibly considerate.

“So where’s my family, if I'm wherever here is?”

“Follow me.”

———

The room you walk into is similar, but different to the one you were in before after you follow the tall man along white walled corridors. You hover nervously in the doorway until Castiel beacons you to follow him. There’s a desk in this room with something like a computer sitting in it. The far wall is white too, except it’s made up of different squares that cover the expanse of it. With the amount of time you’ve had furrowed eyebrows, you almost expect that you would have a headache and yet you still feel no discomfort and no hint of pain.

The man, or angel, places his hand on the screen of the computer and says something in a language you had never heard, nor do you even think you know exists, and then he says you surname and the far wall lights up with moving video footage and suddenly you stand in the middle of a rubble like wasteland.

There was your family.

You could see Tony standing battered in his suit, the mask lifted to show his bloody nose, cut lip and black eye. He was just standing there, frozen in time. You could see Bruce shrinking from the huge green monster he hated down to a man who’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his shoulders sinking. You turn around, waving your hand to move some cloudy dust away from your face to see better. Clint was pulling Wanda up off the floor. She’s shaking, the dirt on her face streaked with tears. Clint is hugging her into his side, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s so much rubble and dust and dirt. The world is a mess. Then you see Thor standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother. The two share a look and subconsciously take a knee. You knew that was a show of respect for them. You just don’t understand why they’re doing it.

Then you see Bucky. Bucky Barnes. His nostrils flare, he sucks his bottom lip in beneath his teeth as he gun clatters to the floor after he tugs off his mask roughly and throws it down. Then Peter. There’s rubble crunching, his fighting to climb over it, rushing forward. He shouts your name and you find yourself shouting his back. He doesn’t hear you. Why can’t he hear you. You can see him. “Why-” you choke out, “Castiel why can’t he hear me?” You turn to your right where the angel stands beside you.

“We’re not really here, (y/n).” He answers softly. “We’re merely watching. Like a 4D movie.” You look at him incredulously, shaking your head feverishly. “Watching what? What even is this? And where’s my da-”

“Please, (y/n), please God, open your eyes.”

“Dad!” You yelp, head snapping around in the direction of his strained cry. Your heart leaps in your chest as you expect to trip over the rubble coated street. You don’t. The ground beneath you does not deter you, it doesn't trip you, doesn't even feel uneven beneath you. It’s flat like the ground you walked on in all the hallways and all the rooms you had been in to get there in the first place. That surprises you, but when your eyes finally land on the blue of that suit you knew so well, it was momentarily lost on your confused mind. You see his back and call out for him, but he doesn't budge. You felt like you were stuck in that Patrick Swayze movie Natash and Clint dragged you out to see three times when it was playing in the cinema during a throwback movie month at a multiplex.

Natasha. God that woman was the closest thing you ever had to a mother.

You see her when you round to get a better view of your dad. She’s on her knees across from him, hanging onto something- someone. You call out her name, begging her to hear you. Begging someone to see you. Castiel frowns deeply, wondering if this was the right way to go about enlightening you into your circumstance. He couldn't see any other way to get it through to you. You had so many questions and it was rare that someone came to him with so little memories of such an event that had happened to them. Something they chose. He assumed you were in some kind of denial. A kind of denial that didn’t allow your mind, even in its state, to comprehend what had happened. You had to see it to believe it. See it to remember what you had done and why you had chosen to do it. Why it was the one thing Castiel couldn’t stop you from doing.

What you were born to do.

There’s this horrible sound, almost animalistic in its nature. It echoes painfully through the empty battleground. Seems to wreak havoc through the heart of every person within earshot. Those hearts were already shattered, but tears made their way into every person’s eyes when they heard that sound of pain. It was nothing that could be evoked by physical stimulus. Nothing could bring it but what was being felt by the man on the ground.

The way he had thrown himself down, ripping off his mask and scooping up the one thing in his world that meant more to him than anything. The person he held in his arms had caused this pain. That person he would burn the world to the ground for. He stood for the protection of the universe, but he would let it fall to the ground around him if it meant keeping this part of his world safe. He was made, primed and perfected to be a protector. He was made to be strong, be the absolute best that a body could actually be. He had super abilities that were almost unmatched across the entire universe. Everybody knew him. He was the symbol of freedom and the fighter's spirit.. Fucking Captain America. You couldn’t imagine something having him curled on the floor making that kind of noise. Your dad was strong, you knew him stoic and powerful. He could and would move mountains for the people he loves. You push forward, breaking through a barrier of dust.

That person was you.

He was holding you.

He was curled up, doubled over your body. It doesn't really look like you though. Your skin isn't quite its natural colour. It’s lost its living glow and there’s probably the combination of that and the dust that settles across everyone as it falls. He keeps smoothing down your hair, keeps running his bare hand over it. He knows that you loved him to do that when you were little and when you weren’t feeling well.

“Daddy I’m right here,” you lament as you take to your knees right next to him, leaning over so you were face to face with him. He doesn’t make any notice of the fact you sit right there. He leans down, pressing his lips against your forehead. You can remember how that new beard of his would tickle your skin when he would press those soft, warming fatherly kisses on your head. “Dad please.” Your whimper falls in deaf ears. No one moves, no one budges. “Castiel please, please I have to tell him I'm okay. I’m right here I-” You pause for a moment, looking down at the face that you know is your own. Your dad is holding onto your hand, gripping it so tightly and it looks as though you had been holding onto his right back before life left your body. “Oh god...oh my god. We’re not really here are we?” You turn your head back to the man standing in the tan trench coat. “No,” he shakes head. “No we’re not.”

You heavy a shaky sigh, standing wearily to your feet and taking steps back from the man who loved and raised you like you were the most precious thing the world could ever have. “I”m dead, aren’t I?”

It was Castiel who sighs this time, his stature is sad and his face says a million sorrys before he has the chance to. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

Your hands aren't dusty despite having them planted on the floor and your knees don’t ache from leaning them on misshapen rubble. Your heart does ache though. It throbs painfully in your chest in a way that can’t be described as physical as memories flood through your brain. Flashes of pain you should feel, pain you did feel extensively that had brought you to the very moment that had frozen your family in grief. It hits you like a slap in the face, the reminder of what you did. More importantly; why you did what you did.

Your sacrifice saved the world. Your life was given so billions of people got to have thiers.

“So you said I was chosen?” You wonder aloud, wiping your hand under your snotty nose in the way Nat always scolded you for. “Indeed.” The angel replies with a soft grimace. “You had to make a choice. God knows all his children at birth. He knows not what they will do, but what they could do; what they are capable of. He knew that one way or another, the world would need you. He never knows when or why, nor could he not have foreseen it costing your life. You are rare, (y/n) rogers. You were born with the gift of a saviour. Nonetheless you had a choice. The kind of choice that can never be forced. You gave your life for the world. That was all you, my father placed your protection unto me because he knew you had to be alive to make that choice. I couldn't protect you from this one, believe me I tried. But when the time comes, even the intervention of one’s guardian angel cannot prevent the free will of the born saviour.”

It sounded like the kind of thing you would hear from someone claiming to be able to read the lines of your palm on the street corners. But it brought you a great, overwhelming kind of relief that you didn’t know you truly needed. To you, the price of your life was minimal to pay for the survival of the world. You nod meekly at the angel's words.

You turn back to the man who sobs over his daughter's body. He was good to you. So good. He was Captain America, but he was your hero. Your daddy. He was the kind of man a little girl could depend on. He’s the kind of man who did the school drop off and pick ups every day that he physically could. He was the kind of dad who would sleep outside your bedroom door when you were sick just in case you weren’t well in the middle of the night and needed him. He was the dad who spent hours chasing his kid around the playground, throwing you up into the air and helping you climb places other kids your age couldn't reach because they didn’t have a ‘superdad’ in more ways than one. He taught you about what it really meant to be good. He taught you love, showed you what it really was and he had made it so abundantly clear how much he truly loved you. He kept you safe from everything. Real monsters and the imaginary ones hiding under the bed on scary nights. He wrote little notes in your packed lunches and saved all the money he could to be ready to put you through college for yo uto have the most normal life a superheroe’s kid could have.

To know that you would never get any of that was always going to haunt him, and you knew that. To never see you, never know how you were or hear you laugh at his jokes again. To never hear you complain about people who skipped cues in the cafe or watch you fall asleep as you swore you could make it through the whole movie. To never see you fall in love, never watch you live a life you deserved; the kind of life he fought day in and day out for you to have, would break him apart forever. A parent never gets over the death of their child, but some things will always haunt more than others. Those were things that would haunt Steve Rogers until the day he could be reunited with you. But to not know where you were, if you were safe and happy and at peace, might destroy him if there was nothing someone could do to show him otherwise.

You were heart set on being that someone for him, to help heal his wounds just like had always been able to do for you with ‘daddy's special kisses’ and big bear hugs that made everything wrong in the crooked world suddenly feel right again.

You had an idea.

“Hey Castiel?” The angel turns to you at the sound of your gentle voice and tilts his head for you to carry on. “Rainbows were our thing, you know.” He very well does know. He’s been the metaphorical angel on your shoulder since the moment you came screaming into the world. “Can you show him a rainbow? A big one, really bright one? Some way he’ll know it’s me?”

Castiel looks at your watery eyes again with his calming cerulean blues, a soft smile tugging at those pink lips. He knows then and there you are going to get on well together after he convinces his Father to allow you into the ranks to work alongside him, and he has little doubt they’ll be much protest to your heavenly presence. He nods his head at you. He wouldn't usually take requests, but then it's usually much lesser angels than him who greet people into heaven and only important born souls get guardian angels like Castiel. And rarely do their times come at 18 years old, before they ever actually get the chance to live a life that they very well deserved. Rarely do they leave behind such a great deal of pain in their wake that is brought because the short life that they did get to live was so achingly kind and full of love that those surrounding them are brought to their knees. He gives you a soft smile. “I can do you one better.”

The angel brings in a long deep breath, his eyes shutting as he releases it through his nose and raises his hand towards the sky. A white light glows gently around him and the sky shifts. The dust completely settles finally, everybody can be seen as the air clears as though it were never not. The sun splits the clouds, floating and dissipating until only two remain in the shape of angel wings beneath a rainbow brighter than had ever been seen before. “Say something,” the angel says quickly, quietly. You open and shut your mouth quickly. A sharp breath leaves your mouth before you speak.

“Sorry I'm in such a hurry, dad. But I thought you should know heaven’s not so far. I know someday you’ll visit. I’m alright, daddy. I know i’ll be alright. You will too, ‘cause you can talk to me any time. I’m right here. I love you. Look up.”

He used to always tell you that. Look up, baby. Keep that head up. Look up and you’ll find your strength. And if ever you look up and you can’t, know that you’ll look up and find me. That’s what he used to say. Because god knows he’d always be taller than you and he wanted you to know that if something ever happened, he was watching over you. Funny how things ended up.

Castiel makes some kind of movement as if he was catching your words and then he makes a motion of guiding them away with a gust of wind that carries directly towards the broken parent over his beloved child, his sweet baby girl. His head lifts, his tears remain, but the saddest smile splits his cracked lips when the words of his baby meet his ears, and her colours; your colours brighten the sky with the brightest rainbow the world has ever seen. He knows for a fact it's you, and he’s comforted by the fact that even in death, you were you.

His pain will never ease. A father's grief will never cease for as long as he exists on earth without his child. Steve will be no exception to that, especially not being the doting girl-dad that he prided himself on being. He had no shame in pink painted nails or unicorn stickers on his shield. Everything that you were was everything that he loved. His pain would never lessen. But for every moment, every breath that he took, every second that the world got to exist; he knew it was at the hands of your sacrifice. He would not let that go to waste. He would never let the world forget it.

As Castiel states, one thing was abundantly clear for your case: You were dead. But you were not gone.

first marvel writing don’t hate me if it sucks pls!

#steve rogers x daughter!reader #steve rogers #avengers x teen!reader #rogers!reader #the avengers #castiel

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm

Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week.

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him.

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years.

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether.

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary.

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve.

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you.

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation.

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently.

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory.

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read.

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now.

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen.

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?”

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind.

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will.

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?”

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply.

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time.

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him?

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.”

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face.

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away.

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang.

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame.

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty.

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound.

Steve really wasn’t here.

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief.

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy.

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself.

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later.

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready.

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice.

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him.

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations?

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong.

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends.

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health.

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday.

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky.

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner.

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course.

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast.

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk.

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option.

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you.

“I will.”

The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat.

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him.

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute.

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions.

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you.

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul.

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres.

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor.

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield.

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags.

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later.

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking.

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another.

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts.

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here.

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission.

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case.

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011.

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy.

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling.

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was.

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans.

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache.

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look.

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin.

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath.

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly.

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile.

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret.

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth.

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown.

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed.

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in.

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered.

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes.

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation. And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers.

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all.

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades.

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

“There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find.

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made.

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner.

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance.

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself -

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris.

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again.

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains.

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself.

At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen.

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain.

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected.

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?”

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively.

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement.

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved.

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side.

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere.

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size.

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself.

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms.

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug.

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel.

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him.

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter.

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on.

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled.

Scott’s eyes lit up.

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas.

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief.

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple.

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple.

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple.

Maybe because he didn’t stop you.

It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen.

Yes, that would have been great.

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey.

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether.

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands.

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting.

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.”

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell.

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious.

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have.

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted.

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down.

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted.

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them.

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called.

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop.

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards.

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing.

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway.

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’.

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right.

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him.

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words.

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it.

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs.

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could.

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips.

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

“What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?”

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.”

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned.

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question.

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.”

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list.

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink. “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle.

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky.

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry.

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them.

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.”

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission.

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call.

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.”

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe.

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway.

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through.

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve.

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count.

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret.

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success.

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right.

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that.

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better.

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner.

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch.

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult.

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner.

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush.

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen.

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda.

Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone.

It was now or never.

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table. “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing.

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin.

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen.

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether.

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles.

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -”

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm.

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.”

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him.

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours.

“What are you thinking about?”

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss.

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss.

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last.

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck.

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him.

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying.

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had.

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer.

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it.

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders.

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well.

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed.

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you. He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself.

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning.

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him.

“You gonna let me?”

And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra. You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had.

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically.

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear.

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it.

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely.

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in.

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air.

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass.

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined.

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth.

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story.

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound.

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited.

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea.

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet.

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now.

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry.

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements.

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat.

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself.

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you.

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss.

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it.

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor.

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it.

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed.

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed.

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring.

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown.

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes.

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae.

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised.

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again.

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom.

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time.

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to.

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t.

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could.

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow.

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched.

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again.

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply.

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really.

You thought the same about him.

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again.

Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up.

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less.

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost.

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along.

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again.

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #captain america x reader #to topple #a giant #by Moni #captainsimagines #Part Six #Chapter six #avengers x reader #mob fanfic #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #Smut #steve rogers smut #LOVE THE ANGST #love the smut

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clayton04 · 3 years ago

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Don't Worry Little One

Request: Yes , Can you please do a platonic yandere dad Steve Rogers? With a 15 year old reader? Well of course I can Song I think would go best with this is -Panic Room by Au/Ra- Angst Prompt 11, Don’t make this harder then it already is Angst Prompt 25, Why do you hate me Angst Prompt 28, I though we were family Angst Prompt 30, You need help

Paring: Platonic Yandere Dad Steve Rogers x Gender Neutral Teen Reader

Summary: Reader (Steve Rogers) want to go to a party for the first time, how will her Father react.

A/N: This will in be first person, its also my first Yandere story

Warnings: Angst, yelling, yandere themes, underaged drinking, sneaking out, sadist and manipulative themes

"Darling, Time for dinner, I jump up from where I was doing my homework "Coming Father!" I placed my book down and walked towards my door but I stopped when I heard my phone buzz, I walked over to it and picked it up. Its from my best friend Aspen.

A 'Hey, you coming to the party tonight?'

Y 'I'll ask my dad"

A 'I heard Liam was going

Liam has been my best friend from birth, but lately we've become distanced maybe its because of his girlfriend Hera she's not a big fan of me, thinks I want to steal Her man.

As I'm lost in thought I don't hear the foot steps coming up the stairs till I hear the door open, "Honey are you alright? you haven't come down stairs and you do remember I don't like it when you don't listen to me right?" I look up to my father and smiled nervously at him "Sorry Sir, I wasn't paying attention it will not happen again!" Father nods at my and motions me to leave my room.

I walk out of my room and hurry down the stairs, as I get to the kitchen i see that the table hasn't been set so I rush around the dinning room setting up for my Father. When I'm finished setting up I serve dinner and stand behind my chair to wait for Sir to be seated, Once he has been seated i wait for him to eat before I dare to even sit.

I begin to eat slowly as I can knowing if i eat un-lady like ill be sent back to my room with not food for the next day *IF YOU CAN'T EVEN EAT LIKE A LADY, WHY SHOULD YOU EAT AT ALL!!* That memory still fresh in mind, I didn't eat for three days after that I learned how to eat and sit like a lady, "How is school My Dear?" I look up to my fathers face but never to his eyes, A good lady never looks the man of the house in the eyes, "It was great Father, I learned much about the history for this town and its cultural heritage"

"That is great Darling Dearest, How is you friend hm what's her name again....that's right Aspen how is she?" I smile at Sir "She is doing fantastic" He looks at me like he can see straight into my soul ripping my secrets apart, Secrets are against the rules.

Rules

Be Lady Like When You Eat

Address me As Father or Sir

No Boys What So Ever

Dress Modest

No Makeup

You Will Tell Me Everything

You Will Do All The Chores

You Will Wait For Me To Eat Before You Sit Down

There Is To Be No Secrets

No Alcohol Or Drugs

Curfew at 4:00pm

Door To Be Opened At All Times (Unless Changing)

Failure to abide by These Rules Will Lead to a Punishment!

When I'm finished eating, I raise from my seat to gather the dirty dishes to wash them in the sink. As I walk into kitchen I get lost in thought wondering if Father will let me got to the party.

I walk back into the Dinning room, "Permission to speak Father?" "Granted" "I was wondering if I please could go to this party tonight Sir?" I watched as his head fell back, he began to laugh before he slammed his fist into the table and shot up towards me, "YOU REALLY THINK I'D LET YOU GO TO A PARTY!, ARE YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL?!?!" His hands made it to my neck and he began to lightly squeeze "Was it that Aspen Bitch that made you think you go out past you curfew?, I bet you it was!" He removed his hands from my neck i watched as they traveled to his hair, he began to tug at it "YOU WANT TO LEAVE ME DONT, YOU WANT TO LEAVE YOUR FATHER...HUH IS THAT IT!!!" "N-No Sir I don't want to leave you, its just I've never gone to a party"

He shoved me into the wall "And you never will go to one not now and not ever, do you understand me" Tears began to trickle down from my eyes "I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!!" He shoved me again, I hit the wall making the photos on it fall and smash into the ground the glass shattering everywhere "Look what you did, You broke the picture frames" His hand grabbed my hair and forced me to look at the glass on the surrounding me, He faced me towards him again "Why Do You Hate Me Dear?"

I shoved his hands off me and ran for my room, I slipped up the stairs, I looked at the bottom of the stairs and i see my father standing there with a dark look in his eyes he began to slowly walk up the stairs, I froze where I was "Are you alright My Sweet Dear, you know I don't like getting made at you, but you just push my buttons Darling I feel as if you like making me mad" My tears are still running down my face, he brings his head to caress my check I flinched away from his hand.

Whimpers fall out of my mouth, Sir places his finger on my mouth shushing me Father pulls my head so close to his mouth I can hear hi whisper "If you keep crying I'll give you something to cry about" Sir grips my hair and gives me a kiss on my forehead. He gives me a hand up and looks down at my crinkled clothes and leads me to my room. "Lets get you changed now"

He lightly pushes me towards my room and smiles at, I try to smile back and walking into my room leaving the door opened because of Rule 12, I lay on my bed and start to cry again into my pillow I hear Sir breathing "Don't Make This Harder Then It Already Is, You know I hate punishing you, but if you even think about sneaking out I'll hunt you friend Aspen down and make her disappear, You only need me My Darling Child, Me and Me Only" I shake my head at his words, now full blown sobbing at this know fact, He sits down on my bed and rubs my back "Shush Darling just breath My Sweet Dear Shush" He lulls me to sleep, light humming a turn that my Mother used to sing me as a younger child, I shut my eyes to rest.

I wake up, I check my phone to find it already read messages, huh I didn't read these

A 'Hey are you still coming??"

A 'The party has started, i guess your dad said no huh, damn" 8:00Pm

A 'Y/N Why aren't you answering me, are you ok, did your dad do something to you" 8:43Pm

A 'I went home from the party early, Liam was their making out with Hera so hard, I thought he was going to eat her face off, kinda glad you didn't go' 9:34Pm

A 'Just got home, Y/N please answer me' 9:48Pm

A 'Y/N I just heard something in my house, the thing is I'm home alone' 9:57Pm

A 'Y/N CALL THE COPS IT-' 10:03

A 'You Don't Have To Worry Anymore' 10:07

I Jumped out of bed and rushed down to my father room, i quickly knock which pushes the door open, i slowly walk into Sirs room and find he's not here I turn to walk down the stairs that when i see the Television playing the news, a picture comes up.....Its a picture of Aspen, I drop to the ground and start to cry I crawl over to the remote and unmute it.

"Last Night Aspen Delcour a 15 year old girl was brutally murdered in her suburban home around about 10:00pm, if you have any information please call - XXXX XXX XXX-"

Wait the only person that could of read my message's was, No it it couldn't of been, This couldn't be my Punishment.

I shakily type the number into my phone and place it next to my ear.

"Hello This is Crime Stoppers"

"Y-Yes I think I have information about Aspen Delcour's Murder"

"Yes please continue -someone get the director what kind of information do you have?"

"I think....I think I know who it was"

"You Do, Alright I'm going to need a name alright"

"Yes, my name is Y/N and I pretty sure its-HMP"

"Hello, Y/N are you still there, are you alright"

"*SCREAMS*"

I scream as loud as I could trying to tell the man who I now know killed Aspen, My own Father standing in front of me coved in blood he looks down at the phone as the man keeps asking if I'm ok and that try and give him the address so he dispatch police and possibly paramedics to my location, I try to yell it out when Father crushed my phone.

He kneels down in front of me "I Thought We Were Family?" Tears began to race down my face as I try to crawl back away from him, He grabs me and pulls me close I then notice what he was hold it was a while cloth that looked lightly damped.

Sir smiles at and brings my my chin "I Love You My Darling but they were bad people" "No you are a bad person, You Need Help" Father slaps me and twists my body so my back is pressed against his front, he places the cloth over my nose and mouth, I began to look oxygen so I tried to breath though the cloth that when my vison began to fade black

"Don't Worry Little One, It Won't Be Dark For Long"

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

Word Count: 1,661

I hope you all have enjoyed my work, it was my first time writing a yandere

#Steve Rogers #marvel imagines #yandere #x reader

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 4 years ago

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Polyamorous: No Boy

Pairing Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes, Stucky x reader

warning: fluff,

"Hey," Peter and Ash said as her parents stumbled in after their late-night missions, the three of them gave a mumbled reply and made their way to their room. It wasn't even Two minutes late that a loud bang was heard, and Steve and Bucky came rushing out.

"Wh-what is this? what is happening here? huh?" Steve asked, pointing to teens on the couch, specifically the boy.

"When did he get here? I don't remember saying you could have a boy over, and it's late." Bucky said, " he needs to get out."

"I said she could have him over. I didn't want her all alone while we were on our mission. " (Y/n) said, coming into the living room "Hi Peter."

"well, we're back now. You can leave now," Steve pointed to the door, " here I'll drive you."

"Actually, he's sleeping over." The boys turned to her like she was crazy and grew two heads. " not here, obviously. He has a room on Tony's Floor. Leave them alone. Let them finish their movie." she swatted her husbands " It's late. You two need to go to bed after this movie, okay?"

"yes, ma'am."

"Okay, good night" (Y/n) pushed her husbands down the hall and into their bedroom.

"You're just going to leave them out there. Together. Alone." Steve said

"relax, both of you. Have you forgotten? We have Friday; she's watching them as we speak. She'll tell us if things start happening. Gentlemen, technology is on your side. Now stop freaking out. And let's shower."

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you okay with this?"

(Y/n) sighed as she took off her uniform in the middle of the room. Steve went to the bathroom to start the shower. " Because he's a modern-day little Stevie. Honestly, he's too shy and kind. He won't do anything to Ash; she doesn't want him to, and she has been through too much to have her thoughts going in that direction. I don't even think she knows about sex... Do you think we'll have to give her the talk?"

Bucky chuckled and groaned " you have this way of calming me down and then stabbing me in the chest. You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, doll. "

"I'm not trying to hurt you. This parenting thing is hard. I'm just winging it. Honestly, I'm challenging my inner Sarah Rogers."

"you remember Steve's mother?"

"Flashes, but... yeah. My memory of the past still isn't all there; I still have gaps."

"She adored you," Steve said, coming out of the bathroom coming up behind (Y/n). He wrapped his arms around her waist. "She loved you very much, both of you. Gave you and Bucky her blessing."

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around in his arms.

"Yeah, I remember you guys telling me about it on my first birthday without her. She knew I love you both and that you both loved me.

" "sounds like a smart woman," Bucky said

"she was," Steve said, burying his face into (Y/n) shoulders.

"If only she could see you now a husband and a father. Look how far you've come, Steve" (Y/n) said, kissing his head.

"Also, I have an off-topic question. How old were we when we first had sex?" pushing her away, Steve marched to the bathroom. She laughed " See. You can't get made. They're already better than us."

"School... what's it's like?" Ash asked as the movie came to an end. She wasn't ready for Peter to leave, yet she was enjoying his company.

"Well, I'm in college. I like it. Majoring in science. You see, in college, we get to choose what we want to study. The campus is pretty big, so classes are all over the place, but it's beautiful. You make a lot of friends there. " Peter said, rambling but then realized she probably didn't fully understand. "Maybe I can take you on tour sometime. so you can actually see and maybe meet some of my friends."

"I would like that," she said, " the movie is over."

"Yeah... I should go before your dads come get me" Peter stood up. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Peter," she called out to him as he reached the door. She looked at him " I... can we make pancakes tomorrow with the chocolate chips?"

Peter smiled " definitely."

As he left, Peter looked down the other hall and saw Steve and Bucky standing there leaning against the wall. Looking at the young man, Steve gave him a simple nod. Peter gave an awkward nod in return and quickly left.

Looking around the corner, Bucky and Steve saw Ash sitting on the couch, smiling to herself. Maybe Peter wasn't that bad, but they were still keeping an eye on him.

#polyamourous #polyamourous series #polyamourous fanfiction #fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #stucky x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader x Bucky barnes

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bettercallsabs · 4 years ago

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After Dark

Here we go peeps.I'm back with some new trash! Here's a new unedited series (yes another one). This was an original story converted to reader insert so it does contain character descriptions, if this bothers you, don't read any further. Otherwise, please enjoy! Sorry, I'm a bit rusty. Haaaa

Warnings: language, swears, things.

Word count: 1.5k

Steve Roger's x Plus Sized Reader

My tag list is open, so never miss a post!

I dropped out of college my first semester after my father disappeared leaving me to care for my teenage sister.

My name is Y/N. I'm 20 years old. I'm working at a trendy night club as a waitress.

…..

"Y/N, get a fucking grip." Grace yells as she stomps down the hallway.

"No Grace, I won't! You're 15 years old, christ! You shouldn't even be having sex." I snap back at her.

It had just been my sister and I for nearly two years. Ever since the disappearance of our father, raising my sister alone had proven to be a real walk in the park… not.

Was I ever this bad as a teen? Holy shit.

"Sorry I'm not a prude like you."

Grace's tone is sparky, as she rests a hand on her hip.

I fold my arms across my chest, shifting my weight onto my right leg, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of my head.

"I am not a prude."

"You're 20 years old, and a virgin…"

I let out a long sigh, shaking my head as I stared hard at my baby sister.

"That doesn't make me a prude. Christ, Grace! I'm just concerned! You're being reckless! Do you know what could happen? God forbid you get an STI or worse.. You're not even on birth control!"

"He used a condom dummy."

I clutch my face in my hands, letting out a heavy breath in frustration. Why is my sister the way she is?

"Enough. This is obviously a pointless discussion, or lack there of.. I'm taking you in on Monday to get you on birth control, because lord knows you need it."

Grace scowls at me as her eyes roll hard in her head. "Whatever Y/N."

I glance at my watch 6:32 p.m. Shit. I'm going to be late!

"I have to go to work. Please…. Just behave, okay?"

Grace turns and gives me the middle finger before trotting her way up the stairs.

That girl is going to age me 10 years.

Shaking my head, as I breathe out a soft sigh, I quickly grab my keys and purse from the counter, rushing out of the house. The last thing I need today is to be late to work…

……

"Alright ladies listen up."

Terrance, more commonly known as Terry, the owner of the club, stood before us, his chiseled jaw tight as he leaned against the bar.

"My son has a meeting here tonight, so be on your best behavior. I expect the utmost professionalism from my ladies. Y/N and Charlie, you're working the VIP section tonight."

"You could have given some warning Terry, I would have dolled up more!" Charlie, a fellow waitress, looks in Terry's direction, a playful frown peaking on the corners of her full lips.

I feel my stomach churn, I've never worked the VIP section before… it's a big deal. Bigger clients, bigger tips…

I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak up. I wish I was as outspoken as Charlie, she really has that 'I say what I want, when I want' attitude.

"Terry... I never work VIP... if this is an important meeting, shouldn't Lydia or Tanya-"

"Charlie will show you the ropes. Now let's make some money."

Terry claps his hands before heading off to his office. No one wastes anytime. The convened staff disperse in every direction, hurry back to work to finish preparing for the club to open.

"Don't worry hun!" Charlie squeezes my arm in support. "We're gonna make some good money tonight! Steve and his boys are so damn fine and gracious tippers. It's a win win. Eye candy and stacks baby."

"Really?"

I nervously fidget with my fingers before running them through my long blonde hair.

"Yeah girl, of course! So, Papa Terry is putting a lot of trust in you tonight. Word of advice hun, obviously by now you know this club is a special one, so what you see and hear tonight, keep your mouth shut, and you'll do just fine."

I nod, understanding fully what she means. Afterall, rats have never made a good name for themselves.

There's a lot that goes on in the club that terrifies me, but the money is too good to pass up.

Charlie smiles at me, a soft genuine smile, as she wraps her arm in mine. Something about her makes me feel oddly safe and at ease.

"I like you Y/N, so I'm going to give you some more advice here. Stop being such an uptight girl!"

"I can't help it."

"Yeah Y/N, lighten up a little, jeez. When was the last time you got laid?"

Lydia, another waitress appears from behind us as she jumps into the conversation.

My eyes immediately deflect to the floor, suddenly feeling more self conscious than usual.

"I should really get back to it."

"Oh come on Y/N, don't be such prude."

Lydia laughs, but I feel the irritation building within me.

"Why does everyone call me that? I am not a prude!"

My voice is harsher than I intended it to be.

"Woah girl, chill."

Lydia looks at me, seemingly shocked by my outburst.

"Sorry. I'm really not a prude though. Just because I haven't…" I trail off mid sentence, my gaze now focused on the floor in front of me.

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Y/N, babe, are you a virgin?"

"Lydia, keep it down.."

"It makes so much sense... You being a virgin explains so much."

"What's that supposed to mean Charlie?" I huff, folding my arms over my chest. What did she mean by that? Was being a virgin a bad thing?

"Who's a virgin? I sure as hell know it's not Lydia."

A booming laugh echoes from behind me, my blood running cold with embarrassment.

Lydia's head snaps in the direction of the laughter, a scowl now pasted on her full lips.

"Oh shut up Bucky, you old windbag!"

Lydia smacks the large bicep of a tall tatted man hard enough that the sound echoes off the club walls..

I shyly duck behind Charlie, trying to make myself invisible, the last thing I need right now is to embarrass myself any further.

"Lydia, you need to work on your strength, hit the gym or something." The one called Dawson smirks at Lydia, who sticks her tongue out. "But seriously, who's a virgin, my curiosity has peaked."

"Pfft, I don't think any girl that works here could be. They are just fucking around."

A rich baritone voice fills my ears. I peer my head around from my very obvious hiding spot, Charlie. The man that belongs to the dreamy voice is even more so. He is tall, so deliciously tall, and his eyes are blue like icy glacial pools. Lord, he is like sex on two legs.

"Hey now! Don't be making those kinds of assumptions. Some of us very well could be. Just because we work here doesn't mean a thing. We dress like this for the tips baby." Charlie rolls her eyes at the two men, resting a hand on her hip.

"Ha ha Charlie, you've got jokes I see. Who knew you were such a comedian?"

"Who is that?" I whisper in Charlie's ear.

"Ah yes, introduction time." Charlie points in the direction of the ridiculously handsome men.

"That's Mr. Roger's son, Steve ." She points to the one with the mesmerizing blue eyes. "And the stupid one is Dawson."

"Hey! Watch your damn mouth Charlie!" Dawson glares at her playfully, before his eyes land on me… so much for being invisible.

"Who do we have here? Fresh meat?"

Charlie pulls me forward, resting her arm on my shoulder. "This is Y/N. She's been around for a bit now, but tonight is her first night working VIP, so be nice to her!"

My eyes instantly flick to Steve , who is looking me up and down. Butterflies build in my just, as my heart flutters. I bite at my lower lip, trying to contain the wave of anxiety washing over me. When his eyes met mine, it was like the earth stopped turning, there was no one in the room but us. I could truly lose myself in those hypnotic blue eyes.

"Damn! She thicc! I'd like to-"

"Watch your mouth Dawson."

Steve 's voice is low as he scowls at Dawson through gritted teeth. Dawson takes a step back, settling himself behind Steve .

Steve 's eyes fall back to mine capturing my full attention with his intense gaze.. And just for a moment I'm lost in those icy pools..

As quickly as they came his eyes left mine, giving their focus to Charlie.

"Tonight's meeting is important, so you will need to be extra courteous. Feel me Charlie?"

"Aye aye Captain." Charlie jokingly salutes Steve , who doesn't look the slightest bit amused.

"Come on ladies, we have jobs to do. Let's get ready to get this money. It's going to be a good night!"

Charlie smiles, looping her arm in mine, as we head into the VIP section. I glance over my shoulder, dying to get one last peak at Steve . Our eyes meet once again, and I feel my heart shudder in my chest… shit.

…….

ForeverTags:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@itsanerdlife

@sea040561

@dsakita

@princess-evans-addict

@mariekoukie6661

@flashfanfics

@patzammit

#fanfic #fandom #reader #marvel #reader insert #steverogersxreader #steve roger fanfic #mcufam #motorcycleclub #mcu fandom #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #plus sized reader

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coco96 · 4 years ago

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LDAF - SR Parental

Gotcha Day (Stucky X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mention/hints of torture, it’s HYDRA. Request: Stucky x daughter reader where avengers found her abandoned in a hydra facility. reader has never had a real family before and is close with Steve and Bucky and they adopt her.

Passing on the Shield (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of Endgame Request: … Steve retires as Captain America and gives the shield to Sam and asks his son to help him give Sam the shield and the son agrees, but deep down the son wishes Steve choose him, and the son kinda gains depression from it thinking he’s not good enough for his dad, so he goes and talks to Bucky and then finally confronts Steve. … and Steve feels extremely bad and then tried to reassure his son his reasoning

Shot In The Dark (Steve Rogers X Male!Teen!Reader) Warnings: Fighting, violence, shooting, blood Request: Can I request a Steve Rogers x male teen reader where the reader (who is like a son figure to Steve) accidentally gets seriously hurt by Steve during a mission… Just some angst and then a happy ending with a lot of fluff… Love your work ❤️❤️

Being Steve Rogers Daughter with Social Anxiety Would Include… Warnings: Mention of panic attacks and mild bullying Request: Headcannons with Steve Rogers x daughter!reader who has social anxiety?

Army Letter (Steve Rogers X Daughter!Reader) Request: Could you do a fic with either Steve or Bucky were they have a daughter and they find out that she joined the army? So exited to read all of your new stuff!

Prom Date (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) Warnings: Fear of homophobia, being dumped Request: If requests are still available, could you do a Steve Rogers x son!reader where the kid suffers their first heartbreak after his boyfriend dumps him at prom but is scared to tell Steve due to not being out yet? …

Second Best (Rogers!Daughter X Tony Stark) | Part 2 Warnings: Swearing, spoilers of CW, parental abandonment/ neglect? Request: Steve Rogers x daughter!reader where she tries to make him sign the Accords but after the fight in the airport she talks to Tony about how he (Steve) cares for Bucky and not his own daughter?. xx

Five Years Lost (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) Warnings: Avengers Infinity War Spoilers Request: steve rogers x son reader where the reader turns to ash in infinity war in front of steve and then if you want to a reunion of when they come back ❤️

Changes through Time (Steve Rogers X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mention of homophobia and maybe some spoilers Request: Steve Rogers x daughter!reader where the reader wakes up 70 years later and realises that life is so different i.e. seeing gay people BUT she was secretly gay in the 30’s and comes out as a lesbian?

Memory (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers to Infinity War, death of characters Request: Could you do a Steve Rogers x son!reader based on the song Memory from Cats where it starts off really cute but then the reader loses his best friend (Peter) so he runs away, but after a little while comes back to Steve? An angst/fluff hybrid I guess lmao

Bonding (Steve Rogers X Stepson!Reader) Request: Hey! Can I request an imagine where reader is the male step son of Steve? He’s like a punk kid who’s in a band like FoB… he really doesnt like Steve at first but as the imagine goes on they start to get along more?

Prom Problems (Steve Rogers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Self-councious reader, mean students Request: Marvel imagine where the reader comes home upset to Steve who’s kinda like a dad to her because she never feels like she’s good enough? Specifically when relationships and body confidence are involved?

It’ll Work Out (Stony X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of Civil War, emotions Request: Hey can you do one where reader is stonys daughter and it’s just about how the family is torn apart lots of angst ends in fluff

Being Steve Rogers’ Son Would include…

Father/Godfather? (Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff and Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Parental confusion? Conception stuff? Request: … reader is 15-16 and is the daughter of Wanda and Steve, but she find out that her godfather, bucky, is actually her real father ? (And Steve didn’t know) …

Insecurity (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) | Part 2 Warning: Fire, insecurity, anxiety, teasing Request: ... angst-ish Steve RogersxSon!Reader (like 15-17years old) where the reader feels (and is) outta place ‘cause he has firepower? And Steve doesn’t want to tell anyone of his sons powers? ...

Come Home (Steve Rogers X Son!Reader) Warnings: Runaway, self-consious reader, self-doubt/ hate Request: … Steve’s son, the reader, runs away because he is scared of letting his dad, a literal superhero, down and Steve is super distraught until the reader sees himself on the news and runs back home and the ending is just super fluffy?? …

Changes through Time (Steve Rogers X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Mention of homophobia and maybe some spoilers Request: … reader wakes up 70 years later and realises that life is so different i.e. seeing gay people BUT she was secretly gay in the 30’s and comes out as a lesbian?

During the Movie (Wanda Maximoff X Fem!Reader) Request: … reader is Steve’s child and they don’t hang out at the tower much, but there’s a big movie night for the team so they decide to go. And then they meet Wanda and they hit it off straight away, eventually they end up cuddling whilst watching the movie and Wanda asks r on a date.

“Mr Rogers?”(Steve X Son!Reader, Peter X Male!Reader) Warnings: Over protective father? Request: … reader is Steve Rogers’ son (14-15) and he’s a really protective dad, but the reader is dating Peter Parker and Steve goes dad-mode on them? …

#marvel cinematic universe #Steve Rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #marvel #mcu #lazydoodlesandfanfic #lazydoodlesandfanfic masterlist

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avengerscompound · 3 years ago

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The Pain in Serendipity - 2

The Pain in Serendipity - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (possible polyamory in future).

Rating: E

Word Count: 2174

Warnings: Mentions of Child and Infant death, angst, grief, trauma, aftermath of the snap.

Synopsis: When Thanos snaps his fingers it takes your daughter and Steve Rogers’ first love with it. Together you pick up the pieces, falling in love and building a family together. Finding serendipity in your shared trauma.When opportunity comes to bring back those who are lost comes with the risk of more loss for you both. Is it worth taking the risk?

Chapter 2

Over the next couple of weeks, you moved everyone from the gym to the old Avengers tower in New York and a process was put in place to hire people both full and part-time to work for the new organization that Stark Industries had founded. It was part of a network that was starting throughout the US and hoped to expand throughout the world that would deal with displaced children after half of life was erased.

The organization would work in three different ways. First, it would find and take care of displaced children, acting as a halfway house for the kids affected by the incident. There would be volunteers and paid employees whose job was to search homes and parks and go to schools to find kids that were essentially orphaned.

All children that ended up at the tower whether it be because they were found, brought in by concerned neighbors, or made their own way there, were processed and given a place to live, and people to care for them. The foundation employed admin staff, carers, cleaners, cooks, security, and other miscellaneous staff to help run the facility.

The last stage was finding the children a home. First and foremost that was trying to get them to their family. Preferably that would mean a parent or guardian that had been away for some reason. Thankfully due to the random nature of the incident, there weren’t a lot of children that had been orphaned completely, but there was still a large amount that required a parent to be tracked down. If the parents both seemed to be in the group of vanished the next step would be seeking out extended family. Failing that then it was adoption/foster care. Staff were being recruited to help track these people down and then if the adoption stage was reached, then they would handle that too.

For now, though, it was just you and the volunteers you’d recruited from your neighborhood. You’d been put in charge of taking care of the kids and double-checking the credentials of family members who came to claim their children. Pepper had given you a salary and moved you into the tower full-time. You were given an apartment, but at least for that first few weeks, you and all the children and volunteers that came with you would be sleeping in the large common room with the younger children until there were more staff and fewer kids so that a better sleeping arrangement could be reached. The teens were sharing rooms on the same floor, but even they would need to be rearranged later.

It was at least a more comfortable arrangement and with the AI in the building, there were always eyes on the kids to make sure they weren’t being neglected or getting into trouble.

You hoped that if Steve and the remaining Avengers could find the person who had caused this, maybe this whole enterprise would be redundant.

By the time you were all settled and had a working schedule and process in place, and Pepper had organized hiring people and setting up the systems you’d both agreed on. You still kept Jacob with you most of the time. He slept in a crib beside your bed, and if he needed feeding or changing, you tried to be the one to do it. You felt personally responsible for him. You had known Callie had no family. She’d grown up in the system and gotten out while she was still a teen. Jacob’s father wasn’t even named on the birth certificate. That baby wasn’t going home to anyone so you were going to give him the home he needed. He was your family now.

Similarly, Ryan had latched on to you. The teen was showing an emotional maturity beyond his years, but you could recognize that it came out of trauma. You think he saw you as his savior in some ways and that by helping you he didn’t need to think about what had happened. He was going to need therapy. Everyone was. If this halfway house became anywhere near-permanent, it would need to have a psychology department. Possibly a school too.

A little after two weeks since you first met Steve Rogers, he showed up at the tower. There was a rumor that Tony Stark had returned from space a week ago, but no one had confirmed it. Everyone was still missing, so you assumed that even though Steve had shaved since you last saw him, and was dressed in something smart casual, he was not there to deliver good news.

It was dinner time - which you served in what was once the cafeteria for Avengers support staff - and while the other volunteers served up meals for the kids who could eat them, you were on baby duty. You had a row of little ones and a matching row of jarred baby food to match their ages. You’d worry about the ones that needed bottles after you were done, and then it would be bath time and after that maybe you’d be able to eat too.

He strolled in looking a little lost but when he spotted you, he made his way over. “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked.

You shook your head and spooned a mouthful of pureed peas into a six-month-old’s mouth. “No. Generally the meals are pretty good. It’s busy, but the kids seem to like choosing what they want to eat cafeteria-style. I guess at home they would have just gotten what they were given.”

When the baby swallowed you put the spoon in the jar and rolled your chair to the next baby, this time getting a spoonful of pumpkin and couscous.

“Can I help with that?” he asked.

You nodded and gestured to a free office chair that was sitting at the side of the room. He went and got it, wheeling it over to you and the babies. When he took a seat he picked up the baby food from the baby furthest down the line and spooned some food into his mouth.

“What brings you here tonight?” you asked as you moved down the line toward him.

“I guess I was feeling lost,” he said. “And I owe you a visit.”

“Did you find that guy?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It didn’t go how we expected. The stones he used to make this happen, he used them to destroy themselves so that we can’t undo it. Thor… he was so angry …” He stopped talking and with a pained expression he swiped his thumb over his throat.

“So that’s it then?” you asked. “They’re gone for good?”

You didn’t want to break down. Not here. Not right now. You swallowed thickly as you looked at him and he nodded.

One of the babies, an eight-month-old named Shiane, began to fuss. You picked her up and bounced her in your lap. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I wish I had better news.”

“You didn’t do this,” you assured him. “And you tried to undo it. There’s nothing more anyone could ask of you.”

He nodded and looked away at you, focusing much too hard on the infant he was feeding.

You reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “So, we’re doing dinner now. I mean… if that wasn’t obvious. And then it’s bath time and they get stories and bed. Do you want to stick around for a bit and hang out? I usually eat when they’re all in bed. You’re welcome to join me.”

He smiled a little and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The bedtime routine was a long involved process, even with the eight people you officially had working with you, and the extra hand from Steve. There were currently over fifty kids living at the tower. Eight infants, thirteen toddlers, nineteen elementary school-aged kids, and eighteen teens under the age of seventeen. The teens generally only needed mild supervision to get them fed, showered, and into their rooms to sleep, and only then needing gentle reminders or someone to talk to if they were having troubles at all. Some of them, like Ryan, would help with the younger kids. The elementary school-aged ones also didn’t need supervision showering, so it was just the reminder and stories and nighttime meltdowns you all needed to worry about. Having FRIDAY helped with them too. She alerted you if there was trouble and gently nudged them along if they were dawdling.

The toddlers and infants were another story. While two of the eight adults stayed to supervise the older kids, the rest were on baby duty. The toddlers were taken up to the penthouse and given a bath in the large spa on that floor, and two adults would supervise and wash hair and get them into nighttime diapers and pajamas. The rest of you formed a baby bathing chain. One bathing, one drying and dressing, and the other two giving bottles.

Tonight Steve helped with the toddlers and after everyone was in their pajamas, he read a story for the whole group while they had a snack of popcorn and fresh fruit.

It was another hour and a half before all the kids were either asleep in their beds in the common area or their rooms winding down. You sat in the kitchenette with Steve and the three other full-time employees, the rest having had gone home for the night. Each of you has a baby in your arms, feeding them a bottle as you juggled eating and watching the babies that were old enough to hold their own bottles while they fed in their bassinets.

“This is quite an ordeal, isn’t it?” Steve said. “Are there more kids than last time?”

You nodded. “Back then it wasn’t even all the kids in Brooklyn. Now we’ve got kids from most of the tristate area. Luckily they tend not to stay with us long. There’s usually another parent or a grandparent that comes to collect them. I think we’ll end up taking in more from up and down the East Coast. Hopefully, we can find them all someone, but it’s not always going to be easy. When I was grabbing kids I was finding IDs for the lost parent and putting them in the pocket of the kid and then leaving a note for the family so they could find me. Not everyone thought to do that.”

“We don’t even know where this little one came from. Just a vague ‘up town’,” Jane - one of the other full-timers said as she giggled the baby in her arms. “We’ve been calling her Hope.”

“And there are kids we know are on their own,” you said. “This little guy is Jacob. He was my next-door neighbor’s son. She was alone with him. No partner. No family. Just her and J.J.”

Steve frowned. “You are all doing amazing work. If you’ll have me, I’d love to come and help more.”

“We’d love it,” one of the other women agreed quickly.

“I think Natasha would like to come out too. I think… I think we all feel a little lost,” he said.

“Well you’re not alone in that,” you said. “This thing was… huge. We four - “ you gestured to the other women. “All lost children. I was brushing Alice’s hair when she turned to dust.”

“I was breastfeeding,” Shanna said and took a steadying breath.

“Mine was at daycare,” Jane added. “I went to pick her up and…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“It took me a little while to figure out what had happened,” Malaya said. “I thought Alon was hiding.”

“That happened to my friend,” Steve said. “He was having lunch outside with his family and he turned around and they were gone.”

“It’s not fair,” Shanna sighed, as a tear escaped. “This won’t help anything, and for it to be so random. Why should our kids be taken and good people… and then murderers and rapists still just be out living their lives.”

Steve shook his head. “I wish I could answer that.”

“Who did you lose?” You asked Steve.

“A few people. I feel like I’m destined to just keep losing people. This isn’t the first time for me,” Steve explained as he put the sleeping baby in his arms back down into the bassinet. “There was a girl… I mean, I guess she was a woman now. But I felt responsible for her. My best friend. The uh…” he paused and swallowed. “My partner. Other friends. It was senseless.”

“It’s going to take a long time to recover,” you agreed. “If we ever do.”

Steve frowned and nodded. “I should probably get going. It’s a long drive back upstate.”

“Are you sure? I bet your old room is there and it’s really late,” you said.

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll come back out soon. Thanks for letting me help out.”

“Anytime, Steve,” you said. “I mean it.”

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #angst #the pain in serendipity

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fangirlinsweden · 4 years ago

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Nexus Part 3

Part 3: Vigilantes and History

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Secrets, talk about death and loss (think that is all)

Word Count: About 2500 words

Summary: Y/N is a pain in the ass according to Steve. She is brought on to missions sometimes by Fury when they need help, but she is wild and does not listen to orders. She does what she wants. Now Fury has given her a place in the Avengers. And Steve is not liking it. Having to deal with her every day. He hates her. Or does he? And what is Y/N relationship with Bucky? They seem to get closer and closer.

A/N: This takes place after Avengers: Endgame, but Steve never left. Tony and Nat are still alive.

This is written for Gab’s @buckysmischief Birthday Challenge. My prompt is: “Did you bring us here to die?” “Obviously.” “I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

Daredevil steps out of the shadows. “You are friends with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” Steve brows knitted together. “Well, yeah,” You shrugged and walked over to Matt. “Hey Red. I brought company because my Captain does not trust me.” You tossed your hair in Steve’s direction and then you and Matt hugged. In the hug you whispered something in his ear. Matt looked over at the two men and smiled. “The two of you do not need any introduction,” Matt looked at Steve and Bucky. “Neither do you,” Steve states and crosses his arms. Matt looks over at you and you shrug. “Steve and Bucky, this is my good friend Red,” you say anyway. They say hello to each other. “So Y/N, why did you want this meeting? Seeing as it’s not to catch up,” Matt asks looking at you. “There is some talk about Hydra setting up a secret base in New York,” you explain. “I was wondering if you had heard or seen anything?” “I have not heard about anything strange,” Matt answers and you nod. “Have you seen anything strange then?” Steve asked and Mat and you started to laugh. Steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he went more rigid in his body. He had no idea that Matt was blind. “No,” Matt gets out. “I have not seen anything strange. But I can check with the others.” “Yes, please,” You smile at him. “I am reachable on my phone.” “Who are the others?” Steve wondered walking a bit closer to Matt and you. “Other friends around the city,” you lift a shoulder. “You mean other vigilantes,” Steve grumbles. Bucky smirks and shakes his head slightly. “Well, yes,” You smile. “Who do you know?” Bucky lifts his brows. “It’s more a thing of who don’t I know,” You wink at Bucky. Matt's eyes sparkle as he looks at your face. “Do you know Deadpool?” Bucky leans closer to you. “Of course I know Merc with a Mouth,” You giggle. “We have done some missions together.” “Does that mean you know the X-Men as well?” Bucky had trouble standing still now. “Yeah,” you look at your nails. “She knows every hero in at least a 1000 miles radius,” Matt nods at your direction. “And she is one of the reasons that we got the Kingpin of the streets.” “Now I am working on closing down Hydra for good,” You try to keep your face neutral, but Steve’s eyes are on you and they narrow. You fake kick someone's ass in the air. Matt shakes his head and Bucky chuckles. Steve looks serious. “Hydra is not something to play with. I think maybe you are in over your head here, Y/N” Steve urge her and this time Bucky shakes his head more. “Don’t underestimate her,” Matt warns Steve. “No, please do, that would be fun,” You tilt your head and observe Steve. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. “Brainwashed Soldier, what do you think?” you look at Bucky and he smiles at you. “I am sure you can take care of yourself,” Bucky smirks. “I mean you are a grown woman that is trained by some of the best spies in the world.” Steve glares at Bucky, who only smiles at his friend and shrugs. Matt laughs then he stops quickly. “I need to go Y/N,” he says and tilts his head slightly to the left. “I will keep in touch.” And with that he disappears into the shadows. “I like your friend,” Bucky says and puts his left arm over your shoulder. You start walking back to the car. Steve quietly walked behind the two of you. It was obvious that Steve wanted to say something, but he did not. Maybe he wanted to talk to Bucky alone?

On the drive back from the meeting Steve was quiet, but you did not care. Bucky entertained you with stories about the two of them growing up in Brooklyn. “Do you miss it?” you asked Bucky when he was quiet for a while. “Yes and no,” Bucky answers. “I miss my family, but I am not the same man. And modern times have a lot of advantages.” “Have you tried looking for family members that might be alive?” you keep your eyes on the road, even though you wanted to see Bucky’s face. He sighs. “No,” Bucky looks to the side window. “Why not?” You ask and Steve clears his throat. “I think we should talk about something else,” Steve says with a firm voice. Bucky does not say another word. He just looks out the side window. “What do you want to talk about Captain?” you wonder and look in the rear-view mirror and meet Steve’s angry eyes. “Have you looked into if you have any family members left?” “No,” Steve looks away, then back. “I only looked Peggy up.” “Peggy, the love of your life?” you wonder what he would admit to. “I don't think you can call her the love of my life,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Specially not when he had a short relationship with Sharon, her niece,” Bucky grumbles and Steve looks even more pissed and a bit red in the face. “That almost sounds like incest,” you shudder. Bucky just chuckles and Steve presses his lips to a line. “I figure you want to change the subject again,” you muse and look at Bucky. He was looking out the window again. “What do you want to talk about instead?” “I don’t know,” Steve huffs. “Maybe how you can know so many vigilantes?” “That is a great question,” Bucky agrees, but he still looks to be somewhere else in his mind. “It’s kind of complicated,” You sigh. “That sounds like an excuse not to talk about it,” Steve says leaning forward slightly in his seat. “No, it’s not. It is complicated,” you counter getting a bit pissed at Steve. “But I can give you the cliff notes of the whole story. I grew up in a loving family as the only child.” “Spoiled,” Steve muttered but you ignored him. “My parents both were in the army, so we moved all over the US,” you continue while keeping your eyes ahead. “When both my parents were away on assignment I would stay in Brooklyn with my grandparents. Then my mother was killed while on a mission when I was 14 years old.” You could hear a small gasp from Bucky. “My father was devastated and was honorably discharged from the army to raise me. We moved to Brooklyn and I got to have a normal childhood for a while. Or if you can call it childhood when you are in your teens. My father started working security for some company here in New York. Sometimes I stayed with my grandparents when he was away on missions.” Steve is almost leaning in between the two seats in the front. You turn left and can see the compound in the distance. “When I was 17 he was killed in New York, while on his way back from an assignment. I moved in with my grandparents. I had my suspicions that my father's death was a hit so I started investigating.” The guard by the gates opened them so you could drive through. “While doing my investigations my grandfather died. I got more out of control dealing with not only one loss but two. My grandmother did the best she could, but I kind of went off the rails. I met Red one night I was out looking for information about my father's death. He helped me and through him I met other people that have become my friends. Then when I became 19 Coulson came across me on a mission and he recruited me to join S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury had already had his eyes on me so he was fine with it. I was also the official liaison between S.H.I.E.L.D and other heroes that worked alone.” With that you parked the car and got out of it. Steve and Bucky were still sitting in the car. Then they notice that you had parked and got out quick. “That was the cliff notes,” you started to walk away “Did you ever find out what happened with your father?” Bucky asked when he came up next to you. “Yeah,” you answered and did a small shudder. Bucky draped his arm over your shoulders. “But that's a story for another day.” You gave him a small smile. “Why not now?” Steve wondered. “Why should I share all of my life’s story and greatest tragedies with you when you won’t talk about anything real about your life with me?” you snapped. You were exhausted after telling the story and just wanted to go to bed. It still hurt to talk about your parents. The grief had never gone away, but it had gotten easier with time and it was a kind of feeling you did not mind carrying. You hurried your steps and left the two of them standing behind. All you wanted was to be alone.

Steve looked after Y/N. She had been honest and open with them. He knew there was so much more to her story then what she had told them, but the pain in her face had been raw. Bucky started to go after her, but Steve catches his arm. “Let her be for now,” Steve got out. Bucky looked after Y/N disappearing form and back at his friend. “She is hurting,” Bucky mumbled. “I've never seen that before.” “Neither have I,” Steve admitted. “She is right,” Bucky looked at Steve. “We never told her anything real and she was honest.” “I have a feeling she let some things out of her story,” Steve drags a hand through his hair. “She said she was giving us the cliff notes,” Bucky started to walk in the direction of his room. “That means that she would not give all the information.” Steve walked beside him and nodded.

The next morning you feel a bit weird when you walk over to Bucky’s room. The way you had parted with Bucky and Steve the night before was kind of embarrassing. Running away like a mad child, but you had done it and there was no taking back. You knock on Bucky’s door. Bucky opens the door standing there in only a pair of grey sweatpants and you smiled at him. “Good morning, Brainwashed Cyborg,” you wink at him and he chuckles. It was nice to hear it and you relax some. “Good morning, Doll,” Bucky smiled at you. It spread warmth through your body. “Want to train together?” You tilted your head to the side biting your lip slightly. “Yes,” Bucky nodded. “Give me ten minutes.” You nodded. “See you in the gym in ten minutes,” You smirked. “And be ready for some ass kicking.”Bucky just laughed and closed the door. You started to walk towards the gym, when you heard someone come up behind you fast. Steve pushed you up against a wall hard. “Getting rough with me, Captain. I like it,” you said and smirked. You leaned closer to his ear. “Just so you know my safe-word is Vanilla.” “You really should not talk to Bucky like that,” Steve almost growled at you. “Like what?” you ask with a sweet voice. “Like.. like.. He’s anybody else,” Steve gets out. You roll your eyes. “And you make fun of his arms and his past.” “Do you really think walking on eggshells around Bucky will help him feel like anything other than a monster?” You tilt your head to the side. “Ah…” Steve’s brows slip up. “I just don’t think what you are doing is right.” “As long as Bucky doesn't tell me to stop,” you leaned in closer so you could feel his breath on your lips. “Then I don’t give a shit what you say.” You slink under Steve’s arms and walk away.

While Steve stood there watching Y/N walk away Bucky opened his door and leaned against the doorway. The smirk on Bucky’s face made it clear that he had heard every word. “Don’t say a word,” Steve grumbled and stalked away. All Steve could think about was that he had almost kissed her. He wanted to kiss her. Why? “I don’t think I needed to say a word,” Bucky yelled after Steve and then shocked his head. Bucky did not mind the way Y/N talked and teased him. It made him feel like he was like everyone else. Or at least as close that he could come. She did not treat him with kid gloves. And they always had fun together. She had a way to get him to laugh more than he has done since the 40’s. He went back into his room to get ready to go to the gym. He also liked how she could handle herself sparring with him. In fact she got more shots in on him than Nat ever did when he sparred with her. So when she said that she would kick his ass, he knew that she was not lying. She would be close to doing that. He laughed and left his room. Ready to meet Y/N.

You sat in the bed in your room a few days later and knew it was time to tell him. No, them. You needed to tell them. You could not keep this secret anymore and you did not want to. Your wood box stood open and the content layed on your bed before you. Pictures from your childhood laid in a pill with a pink ribbon around it. Then there were a whole lot of old pictures that lay spread before you. Pictures your grandmother had saved. Pictures Peggy and Howard had given her. Pictures of the past. There were also letters tied together with an old blue ribbon to your left. A notebook full of sketches laid beside it. Two tickets to the Stark Expo back 1943. A pair of old dog tags. You lifted one of the pictures and looked down on the younger faces of Steve and Bucky together. Another picture was of Steve and his parents. As well as a picture of Bucky and his mother. You wanted them to know. Know your secret. A secret you've been keeping forever. You would start by telling one person first. Even if it was scary to tell him and to see his reaction, it was time. Maybe he would be mad. Maybe he would want nothing to do with you. Maybe he would be happy. Maybe.. There were a lot of maybe's. You left your room and went to the gym. It was empty. You went to the kitchen next. Clint sat at the counter with a big coffee cup in front of him, but other than that it was empty. You walk to Steve’s office, but surprisingly it’s empty. On a hunch you walk to the library and that is where you find him. Sitting in one of the big chairs reading a book. You walk in and he looks up at you. “Can we talk?” You asked fiddling with your fingers and having a hard time looking him in the eyes.

~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~ *~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~* ~*~

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imaginationintowords · 4 years ago

Text

Folklore [song series]

the last great american dynasty

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

Word Count: 4658

Warnings: maybe some swearing (don’t really remember), mentions of deaths, sadness, loneliness.

Previous Part

Series Masterlist

Age: 17

Year: 2012

Location: Brooklyn, NY

The last few months haven't been the greatest for Elizabeth.

She never did get to run for Student Body President during the months of October and November. Steve ended up running and winning. Elizabeth had even decided to leave student body council once campaigning started. She found no point in staying, everyone in the club didn't like her.

She had kept to herself. She no longer felt the need to make new friendships or continue the ones she had. The rumors made sure of that.

This was not how Elizabeth had thought her senior year would be. She thought she'd be crossing out he dates in her calendar feeling sad with each passing day, but now she's counting down to when she will never see these faces again.

She had also been approached by the principle right before school was dismissed for Holiday break. Principle Alvarez had told Elizabeth that she was the front runner for valedictorian. Elizabeth politely declined the offer, but Principle Alvarez told her to take the next three week holiday to think over it.

Elizabeth promised she would, but that was a lie. There was no way she would go in front of her classmates and give them a fake speech on comradery.

These people wouldn't know the first thing about that.

Instead she focused on anything besides school.

Her parents weren't oblivious to Elizabeth's sudden change in personality. At first they thought it was because of her breakup with Bucky. But Elizabeth had told them it was a mutual decision. They wanted to believe her, but they knew their daughter. They knew it was not what she had said.

They knew something must've happened, especially with the way Bucky has been actively avoiding running into them. Even going as far as running inside whenever he saw Mr. Sanchez get home from work.

Even Steve stopped coming around. That was another red flag.

Then they had found out from Sarah Rogers, Steve's mom, that Steve would be running for student body president, after Elizabeth stepped down and left the club.

They were shocked to hear the news.

How could she not tell them. Her parents had debated back and forth whether or not they should have a conversation with her.

She had been keeping this a secret for months. Whenever they would bring it up, she told them it was in the works. But she had lied. There was clearly something bigger going on.

They then received a phone call from Principle Alvarez the day before winter break started. She told them about Elizabeth becoming valedictorian but turning it down. Another secret her parents had heard nothing about.

"Mrs. Alvarez, we had no idea," Caterina, her mother, said.

"I figured which is why I called. I told Elizabeth to take the break think it over."

"Thank-you, Mrs. Alvarez," Brandon, her father, thanked, "Actually we were just discussing Elizabeth and her sudden personality change. Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I'm assuming you both know about her breakup with James."

"Yes, but she told us it was a mutual decision, somehow we don't think she's telling he truth," Caterina explained.

"I suppose she isn't. Unfortunately, I don't think it's my place to say. Her grades are not falling behind, she hasn't done anything that would create a cause for concern," she half lied.

"But she quit student council. She isn't even talking to Steve," Caterina explained, slightly frustrated with the situation.

"Yes, well," Principal Alvarez pauses, "There was some rumors going around at the beginning of the year, surrounding James and Elizabeth. Sadly those rumors favored James."

"Why are we just hearing about this now?" her father asked.

"I have spoken to Elizabeth, she had asked me not to say anything to you. In order to keep this a safe place for her and other students, there's some things that need to stay confidential.

"I didn't sense any danger and the rumors died down. Yes, she did quit student council, but you wouldn't be surprised by the amount of students who leave a club senior year." she explained to them.

"We have had no idea any of this was happening," Caterina, sighs softly, her eyes getting teary. Her husband softly rubs her back.

"What do you suggest we do? Should we confront Elizabeth about all these lies?" Brandon asks.

"I think Elizabeth is trying to protect you guys and herself. I can't tell you what to do. This is your child. But I can offer some advice," she says, "Give her some time. When it comes, I'm sure she'll open up, it might not be now, but it will be when she is ready. I've seen this a lot with seniors who get thrown a massive curve ball and it just throws them all off.

"It's what I like to call their first taste of the real world. How they get through it shows how they will handle these kind of stressors in the future. Some just go right off the handle and turn to some bad things to cope. Some repress their feelings, and let it all boil until they have some sort of snap. Some, learn and grow from it. Those that learn and grow, take it quietly, figure out what's to come afterwards. They stop worrying about what's happening now, and are ready to move on. The reason I haven't reached out is because I can see how Elizabeth is handling it. Yes, maybe she has changed, grown up a bit, but I still haven't gotten any major danger signs from her that say she isn't handling this in an unhealthy manner.

"Elizabeth has been meeting with our guidance counselor, about once a week. And that was something she had chosen to do on her own. We aren't necessarily obligated to tell parents that because of confidentiality reasons. If there was any cause for concerns you would've heard by now."

"So we should just wait?"

"Yes," she sighs, "I know it's probably not what you wanted to hear, but just know you have a wonderful daughter, who seems to know how to take care of herself in a healthy mature manner."

The conversation they had with Principal Alvarez brought some peace to their minds. Not completely, but enough to know that if Elizabeth really was in trouble she would go to them.

They had decided that it was probably best to get away for the winter break. Brandon and Caterina were able to work remotely during the holiday season, so they decided to take a trip to the family's cabin.

Elizabeth was excited to head to the cabin for the holidays. It meant that she wouldn't have to worry about running into anyone from school. And any reason to spend more time with her grandmother was exciting. Especially since she would be heading off to college soon.

Elizabeth had decided that Christmas to break the news to her parents that she had decided on the University of Stanford. She would be going as a Pre-Law student. The school was on the other side of the country. When she and her parents visited this past summer, Elizabeth fell in love with the campus.

Her last two choices were Stanford and Columbia.

With some talking to her guidance counselor and some major thought, she decided she desperately needed a change in scenery. A change in people.

For the first time since returning home, she had never felt more free. She was excited about the possibility of the future. She could no longer worry about what the hell was happening in Brooklyn.

Her parents were excited to hear about her choice. They were glad that she wasn't keeping this from them. They had decided that Principal Alvarez was right, Elizabeth was becoming such a strong woman in front of their eyes, and they had to trust that she knows what's best for herself.

Elizabeth and her grandma stayed that third week of break, while her parents were sent away by her grandma so she could have some quality time with her only granddaughter.

Elizabeth and her grandmother were currently sat in the living room going through some old photos. Elizabeth was helping her grandmother put them in some new photo albums she had gotten for Christmas.

"So, any new boy in your life?" her grandma, Sophia, asked.

"No, I'm done with high school boys," Elizabeth said, carefully going through the old photos.

"Good, high school boys are nothing but trouble."

"You're preaching to the choir," Elizabeth joked.

While grabbing another small box of photos, Elizabeth opened it up to reveal some very old letters and photos.

"What are these grandma?" she asked softly turning the box over for her grandma to see.

"Oh, I've been wondering where those went," she softly smiled, going over to sit next to Elizabeth on the couch.

Elizabeth handed her the box, and she pulled out a light yellowish envelope, the color from old age.

"Who are those from?"

"My old friend Rebekah," she said looking over at the letter.

"Rebekah? You've never told me about a Rebekah before.

"Well she was an old friend," her grandma said, handing Elizabeth a black and white photo of two young girls. One was her grandma and the blonde next to her must've been Rebekah. The photo was dated 1965.

"How did you guys meet?" Elizabeth asked.

"In junior high, we were both 12," her grandma handed her a photo dated 1960, it was of two even younger versions of the young teens.

"Oh, wow."

"From 12 to 21 we were inseparable."

"Woah, what's this?" Elizabeth asked, showing her grandma a photo of a quickie style wedding.

"Ah, that was Bex's first wedding."

"First?"

"Yup. Right out of high school, freshly 18. Adam Grant. Bex's high school sweetheart. Prom King and Queen."

"What happened?"

"Young love doesn't always last forever. Why do you think I was always so insistent with you not to worry about marriage until after you've graduated college and started your career."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, "Just thought you thought I was too young, and you were right."

"Aren't I always," she winked playfully.

"What happened between them?"

"Adam wanted Rebekah to be a stay at home wife, to start popping out babies. That wasn't Bex at all. Bex was always the life of the party. She was a social butterfly, but she had dreams of making it to Broadway. Adam was set to take over his dad's mechanic shop.

"The marriage had only lasted a year, before they pulled the plug. After the divorce, Bex started to go on more auditions, while she waitressed part time, and once a month she would sing at a lounge in Manhattan. Now when I say she could sing, I mean she could sing. I believe she really could have made it," her grandma reminisces.

"What happened?"

"Bill happened," her grandma said, handing Elizabeth a photo of a man who appeared to be in his late 40s early 50s.

"Who's he?"

"Bill Carter. The richest man I have ever met. His family had oil money. He and his colleagues were in attendance at the lounge on one of the night's Bex was singing.

"From what Bex told me it was love at first sight. After that night Bex couldn't talk about anything but Bill. They were both so smitten over each other. I don't think I've ever seen Rebekah act like that. She started to clean herself up a little bit, to try and appease his family. But Bill loved her just the way she was when he met her."

"They were engaged two months later. This was both of their second marriages. Bill's parents desperately wanted him to have a prenup, but he was completely against it. He said that unlike his first marriage he knew this was the one. Plus Rebekah didn't care about all of that. She had had many opportunities to make some heavy cash by being a few married men's mistress, but that's not what mattered to her."

Elizabeth glanced down at the photo. It was a photo of the bride and groom surrounded by their friends, all of them have drinks and cigars in their hands, with big smiles on their faces.

Rebekah's hair was a everywhere, doesn't look like she bothered to comb it for the big day. Bill's tie was undone, along with his shirt being halfway unbutton, no suit jacket in sight. Her lips were dark in the black and white photo, which meant she probably was wearing a darker lip, judging by the lipstick marks on Bill's lips, cheek, and neck.

"Was this at the end of the night?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, this was just after the ceremony," her grandmother smiled, "Bex and Bill started the party after they said I do."

"The limo we all rode in together were filled with laughs, drinks, and cigars," she laughed.

"You guys knew how to party," Elizabeth smiled at her grandmother.

"Hey it was the late 60's," she shrugged her shoulders, handing Elizabeth another photo from the wedding.

"This looks small," Elizabeth remarked.

"Yeah, Bill's parents decided they weren't going to pay for the wedding when Bill refused to have Rebekah sign a prenup," she said, "So Bill and Bex decided to have a small wedding. Free of judgment. Just those that loved and supported them."

"That's nice," Elizabeth smiled at the thought of a small intimate wedding.

Elizabeth had never really given much though of how her wedding would be. I mean she and Bucky used to talk about getting married, but that was it. No plans were every truly made. Elizabeth also never truly saw herself as a big ballgown type of gal.

All that had mattered was her and Bucky. Now that's no more.

She felt her eyes get a little teary, she cleared her throat.

"So where did they go to after?"

"Rhode Island."

"Rhode Island?" Elizabeth looked at her grandmother, "Why Rhode Island?"

"They took a trip out there when they were dating, and fell in love with it. Plus Bex has always wanted to live on the sea. She said it made her feel free."

"Did his parents ever accept their marriage?"

"Sadly no," her grandma said, "Especially not after Bill's doctor told him to settle down with the party."

"Did he get sick?"

"Yes, around year 7 of their marriage, his doctor told him if he continued down this path he wouldn't live a long life."

"What did he do?"

"Bill told him he'd rather live the rest of his short life filled with happiness then become a boring old man who lived forever."

"Did he die?"

"Yes he did. He lived another three years, he and Bex were able to spend their ten year anniversary before he passed a week later. The summer of 1979."

"A week later?" Elizabeth asked shocked.

"Yeah," her grandmother sadly remembers.

"Rebekah was never the same after that," her grandmother says, "She never fully recovered from Bill's death."

"Did they have any kids?"

"Not together. Bill had two kids from his first marriage, but the kids only cared about their inheritance, that they never got."

"What?"

"Turns out Bill had changed his will when the doctor had first told him to slow down. He left everything to Rebekah," her grandma says, "That did not help Rebekah after his death either,

"Rebekah wasn't a heartless person, she made sure his children were taken care of, she created a fund for both kids. She never wanted Bill to do that, she didn't even know until the will reading two days after his funeral. All Bex wanted was her Bill. She would've given up all that money just for him."

"That's so sad," Elizabeth commented.

"Very. Even though Bex acted like none of the rumors bothered her, it did. Because that town was painting her to be this horrible woman. Calling her the most shameless woman they had ever seen, saying she enjoyed ruining everything. So she gave them what they wanted. She gave them the most shameless woman they would ever see. From what I had heard the partying got worse. She had parties every day, the house was filled with people from the city. She even got in a feud with one of their neighbors and stole his dog and dyed it green."

"What do you mean 'from what you heard'?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"Well, Rebekah and I weren't close anymore. The last time I had seen Rebekah was the week of Bill's funeral. Before then we hadn’t seen each other in almost 8 years.”

"What happened?"

"Well after I graduated in 1970, your grandpa and I decided to get married and settle down in Brooklyn," her grandma said, handing her a photo of their wedding day, "We were done with the whole party scene. We were ready to begin our own lives. Grandpa and I had already had good jobs lined up. We were ready to be adults. We were ready to start our family.

“Rebekah never understood that. She claimed ‘kids ruined everything’. She and Bill were living this extraordinary life. Kids didn’t fit the picture.”

“What about his kids?”

“They’d visit once per season. Their mother didn’t think that lifestyle was for them, and Bill never fought it,” she told Elizabeth, “And after I had your Uncle Eric in 1972, Rebekah couldn’t put her own feelings for children aside. It put a strain on our friendship, causing me to realize that I couldn’t be her friend if she couldn’t support what made me happy.

“I had supported Rebekah in every aspect of her life. When she wanted to marry Adam right out of high school, I supported her, hell I drove them. When she wanted to divorce Adam, I was there to hold her while she grieved her first failed marriage. She wanted to become a Broadway star, I was right there cheering and supporting her. When she met Bill, and everyone was against their relationship, I was their only support. When they decided to get engaged and married only 5 months after meeting each other, I was there, every step of the way. Did I have time? No, I was busy with school, but I made time.

“I was there for everything. I supported her through everything. But when I was ready to begin my own life, Rebekah couldn’t be there,” her Grandma sighs, “It made me question everything about our friendship.”

“It wasn’t until Bill’s funeral that I fully realized, she was just scared of being alone,” she says, “His funeral was filled with people. But not one of them was there for her.”

“How sad.”

“Rebekah and I finally talked that night,” her grandma says, “She told me all about the nonstop adventures she and Bill had.”

“Did you guys makeup?”

“Yes and no,” she says, “Rebekah was still against kids. She apologized for what she had said, but at that point I had already had three kids. We knew that our friendship would never be the same. We knew that the only way we could be in each other’s lives was if we kept our distance. If any one of us needed each other we knew we could call. But sometimes people come into your life only to be a small part of it. They don’t stay forever, but they make an everlasting impact.”

“Do you know what ended up happening to her?”

“She died, 9 years after Bill’s death. She was only 40 years-old,” she tells Elizabeth with a glimmer in her eye, “She died alone. While on vacation in Italy.”

“I’m sorry Grandma,” Elizabeth sympathetically says, she places her hand softly on top of her grandmother’s.

“It’s okay sweetie, time has come and gone. We all have to go through it someday.”

“What happened to that big house of her’s?”

“It’s still there. It never sold.”

“Why?”

“People claim it’s cursed,” she says, “so now it sits empty on that hill in Rhode Island.”

“They claim a crazy woman lived there, that anyone that were to live there would end up in the same fate as she,” her grandma says, “She wasn’t crazy. She was heartbroken. That whole town exiled her. Blamed her for everything. Made her out to be someone she wasn’t.”

“I get the feeling,” Elizabeth mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“She wasn’t crazy. She was a woman who lost the love of her life. She traveled the world to find anything to fill that void in her heart, and she never did. So she made sure to give that town everything she had.

“She was a very scorn woman. Filled with hatred, and anger to those that did her wrong,” her grandma says, clutching Elizabeth’s hands, forcing her to look into her eyes, “I don’t want you becoming like that Elizabeth.”

“I know whatever is going on in school, is not the easiest. But please, don’t let your heart be filled with so much hatred. I don’t want you becoming like Rebekah. She never learned to forgive.”

“It’s hard to forgive,” Elizabeth sniffled.

“I know, but it’s even harder to carry around so much darkness in your life,” she explains, “You should be able to go to college with nothing weighing you down. Not having anything negative reminding you of back home. You shouldn’t dread going back home, you should be filled with joy. Don’t exile those around you, just because they haven’t figured out that part of their lives.”

“Don’t let these last few moments of your high school life be filled with what those kids are saying,” she squeezes Elizabeth’s hands, “You know who you are. Those closest to you truly know who you are. We love you and support you. And are so incredibly proud of the woman you have become.”

“So please find it in yourself to forgive,” her grandma pleads.

“It’s hard being the bigger person,” Elizabeth sniffles again, silent tears streaming down her face, “they hurt me so much.”

“I know sweetie,” she pulls Elizabeth into her arms, “But let them regret what they have done. Don’t let them win by seeing you become this mad woman. Let them look back in their life, regretting the way they treated you.”

————————

Once Elizabeth went back home, the weekend before she was due to return to school from winter break. She had a lot to think about.

Does she listen to her grandma and forgive everyone for everything they’ve done. Or does she continue down the path she started on months ago.

She had to admit to herself, the path she was on was lonely. She didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t like what they made her become.

She decided to take her grandma’s words, and promised that once she returned to school on Monday, she would go back to being who she was. Not entirely, but at least not filled with so much hatred. She had to move on. For her own soul.

The first step, forgiving Bucky.

She knew that that was the only way to start. She wasn’t ready to talk to him in person, she’s not sure if she ever will be. So she sat at her desk and wrote him a letter:

Dear James,

(Yes, I called you James). I don’t know how to begin this. My grandmother told me I should forgive those that hurt me. You know my grandma, filled with nothing but wisdom. She told me a story about a friend she had, one that let the rumors consume her with hatred. She died alone.

I don’t want to be that person.

I know you don’t believe me to be that person, even after the things I’ve said to you.

But, I do feel myself becoming that person. Hating everyone around me, aside from my own family. (They still have no idea what’s going on with me)

So my first step in letting go, is forgiving you.

Letting all the pain and hate you’ve caused on me go...

I forgive you James.

I forgive you for everything you’ve done.

I don’t think I’ll fully understand why you cheated on me.

I know that’s not who you truly are. So I hope, that whatever you’re going through you come out on the other side.

This is harder than I thought it would be...

I loved you so much. I really thought we would end up together. Maybe that was just a childish thought.

Does anyone even make it out alive with their high school sweetheart?

But I want to thank you. For being my first love.

We were best friends to begin with, so falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Being in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve done.

It was just so effortless. And now I’m starting to wonder if that’s not how love is supposed to be...

But thank-you, for loving me the best that you could. You might not think it was the best, but it was.

You’re a part of my life forever. Even if you’re not physically a part of it.

You, James Buchanan Barnes, have left a forever imprint in my life.

So for that I want to thank you and forgive you.

I will always remember you as the 7 year-old boy who taught me how to ride my bike.

-Elizabeth “Betty” Sanchez.

Elizabeth walked across the street and placed the sealed letter in the Barnes’ mailbox.

As she walked back to her house, she felt this heavy weight lifted off her shoulder.

Come that Monday morning she was going to accept, Principal Alvarez’s valedictorian offer. She was also going to talk to the student council and see if there was anyway for her to rejoin student body. She was also going to apologize to Steve. He was just an innocent bystander that got caught in the crossfire. She couldn’t blame him for standing by his best friend’s side.

Monday, her life will officially be going down a different path. One filled with less hatred, and more understanding and forgiveness.

————————-

Age: 35

Year: 2029

Location: Rhode Island

“We haven’t had any interested buyers in decades,” the relator tells the happy couple, “Because of that, the house is basically a steal. The family that owns it just wants it out of their possession.”

“Now, it is a bit of a fixer upper, since no one has lived here since the late 80s. But that shouldn’t be any issue for you since you’re married to the youngest recipient of the Pritzker Architecture Prize.”

The couple shares a brief smile with each other.

“But if I might ask, no one has every showed interest in this house, especially not a young family like yours. Why do you want to buy this house?”

“I think this house has been empty long enough. It’s time someone filled this house with lots of love and happiness. Like before,” Elizabeth smiled, small crows feet forming around her eyes.

“Well what better way then a family like yours,” the relator smiled, “There’s plenty of space for lots of kids.”

“This one is out last,” Steve smiled, putting his arm around Elizabeth, placing his hand on her growing belly.

“Three is enough for us,” She playfully poked Steve’s side.

They followed the relator to the back where two young children are running around playing.

“So what do you think?” Elizabeth whispered to Steve, looking up into his eyes.

“It’s definitely a fixer upper, but I love it,” he smiles, “Like I said before, wherever you go. I’m there.”

Elizabeth presses a soft kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Diane,” she calls out to the older relator who is running around with mini-me’s of Elizabeth and Steve.

“We’ll take it,” she smiles broadly.

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