#to be fair he was actually a realy fun model

[the-chaotic-rainbow]

Don't know if anyone else would consider this an achievement but at life drawing today the model asked to take a picture of my sketch, of his naked body, (because it's life drawing) Which in my book is for sure a win.

[anika-ann]

No Strings Attached - Pt.2

Y/N vs. Dangerous Cardio

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3400

Summary: It’s all very sweet until it isn’t.

Warnings: swearing, Steve in a gym, mention of a migraine, violence, gun violence

A/N: Enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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You woke up with a startle; some shuffling and a click of a drawer made your snap eyes open and follow the sound. Steve’s back welcomed you as he was fishing out something hidden to your sight.

What time was it? What day was it? Why had you been you sleeping when Steve looked like he just got home from work? Why didn’t he wake you?

…hold on. It was Tuesday and there were those Ministry people at the uni and the strange test and you got the splitting headache--- what time was it that Steve was already home?

You groaned when you noticed the drawn curtains, last sunrays peeking through and colouring the sky. Jesus. Had you slept through the majority of the day?!

“Babygirl?” Steve’s voice reached your ears and your head whipped back to him automatically, thanking heavens when your temples didn’t throb with the sudden movement.

He placed the socks on top of the drawer, making his way to you, concern drawing his brows together, creating those lovely worried wrinkles on his forehead.

“Uh-huh?” you hummed as you sat up, once again pleasantly surprised that the world wasn’t swimming in front of your eyes, no blurred vision, nothing.

Aside from feeling sleepy, you were… fine. Which was kinda strange, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sitting next to you on the bed, Steve gently sunk his fingers into your hair, dropping a sweet lingering kiss on your forehead. Lips never leaving your skin, beard scratching lightly, they caressed your temples next; and you realized what was happening, your own lips curling up in a smile as pleasant warmth spread in your chest at Steve’s worry.

He was lowkey checking for fever.

“You’re not subtle,” you informed him, both amused and touched.

His words vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved a bit higher again, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Not trying to be. How do you feel?”

“How do you even know I wasn’t feeling good?”

He withdrew a little – not before he dropped a cheeky kiss on your nose – raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Ibuprofen on the table and you sleeping at five in the afternoon after only attending one class?” he offered with a smirk, but you weren’t fooled. It worried him. You weren’t a perfect student, but you rarely skipped class; especially Callahan’s class, because you immensely enjoyed it.

“Fair enough. Is it really five already?” you asked rhetorically, running a hand through your hair, catching Steve’s own and brushing the soft skin of his wrist with your lips; a silent thank you for fussing. He gave a brief smile, pulling you to his side, letting your head lull against his shoulder. “When did you come home?”

“Just a few minutes ago, unfortunately. Kept messing stuff up when I wanted to leave the office.”

Because I was worried, was left unspoken and you sighed, wrapping your arm around Steve’s stomach, drawing soothing circles on his side.

Steve was a mother hen; it wasn’t something that was widely known about him, but you had had several opportunities to experience it and you loved it… most of the time. Then again, it brought unnecessary concern to weight his shoulders down.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. How did you know? Did Bucky tell you something?” you wondered, faintly remembering his gaze having following you as you left.

“Linda Parson dropped by to tell me, actually.”

A snort escaped you and you laughed into Steve’s shoulder, fingers clutching his waist. You felt your cheeks warm up with both amusement and embarrassment when you recalled your last encounter with her.

“Was she able to look you in the eye?” you chuckled, causing Steve to retreat and watch you with puzzlement written all over his face.

“Not really-- how did you-?“

“I was kinda out of it. I’m pretty sure I told on you that you don’t usually sleep naked. And that we totally went at it before going to school today. And that your hair looks really good in the morning.”

Steve’s eyebrows gradually rose until they nearly got lost in his hairline. “Uhm… that would explain it. Also… thanks?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

One corner of his lips rose higher in appreciation and then he looked you in the eye, serious again. “How do you feel?”

You didn’t hesitate – and you didn’t have to make up things just to calm his obvious anxiety. You simply spoke the truth.

“…surprisingly good, actually. Headache’s all gone, which is… weird. Frankly, it was terrible, I can’t remember feeling anything like it before.”

Steve’s gaze travelled all over your face, tender fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before he proceeded to kiss the presumably offending spots on your face. You couldn’t but smile widely, pulling him in for a proper kiss, which he willingly surrendered to.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he whispered, brushing his nose with yours.

“Not your fault.”

“Well, you did sleep for a while as if you were catching up on lost hours… maybe I’m keeping you awake too much,” he remarked cheekily and you rolled your eyes at the switch of moods, tickling his side which caused him to chuckle and swiftly retreat.

“Har-har. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Nope, usually you’re just asking for more.”

You gaped at him and chuckled breathlessly, feeling your stomach flutter at the memories of you doing exactly that. “You are incorrigible, Professor Rogers.”

He only smirked and pecked your lips. “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting I know you wrote about having your cunt eaten out and getting railed against the desk in my office and thanking me for it.”

This time you sputtered, almost choking on your spit at such low blow; playful, yes, but brutal. Also – such language!

“Steve!”

“So I don’t think you should be playing this whole ‘you’re incorrigible’ game with me.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’re a menace.”

“Oh babygirl, you know it... just for you,” he assured you with a grin, his eyes now completely cleared of all worry, humour twinkling in them instead. “Anyway, I uh… I was thinking the gym, since it’s Tuesday, but-“

Right. Another thing about Tuesday. Sweaty Steve and workout. Yum and—eh. Okay.

“Of course. I’m coming with.”

You felt better – you felt completely fine, to be honest. And if it got worse by exercising, well… you could always just settle for taking it awfully easy in order to watch Steve’s biceps bulge under weights, his perfect ass growing even rounder while doing squats.

Oh yeah, you were so coming with.

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally stay in, I don’t want you to-" he fussed again, but you just shut him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m fine, Stevie. Plus, you’re like a damn model. I need to keep up at least a bit.” You couldn’t but grimace at that a bit, drawing an offended sound from him.

“Hey!” he protested, frowning. “Thanks and all that, but what are you even talking about? Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. My perfect, perfect pretty girl-“

You squinted at him playfully as he turned your lame attempt at a joke – that might have been a bit serious, because had you seen him – into a compliment. “Charmer. But I mean in general, you know. They say it’s healthy to do sports. Plus, we paid for that couple membership, so…”

“Ah, yes, at least once a week together to get a discount. What were we thinking?”

“That sex doesn’t count if it’s the only exercise we do,” you shot back instantly, this time making him snort in amusement.

“I love you, babygirl. And I know I keep saying it, but I love how your mind works,” he added sweetly, kissing your forehead again as if he wanted to make sure you really weren’t running a fever and thus were ready to be cleared to leave the bed by nurse Rogers.

“Love you too, Stevie. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

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Exercising was not such a great idea.

Obviously, Steve delivered; watching him lift weights and work out in general was a delight, your mind helpfully supplying the huffs and other noises you knew he was making occasionally, but couldn’t be heard over the music.

And you actually did enjoy going just for yourself; the endorphins worked wonders for your mood, always. Even today, in the first few minutes as you jogged and then even ran on the treadmill, you were having fun.

But then the previous headache echoed dully in your skull; barely there, considerably less intense than in the morning, but you certainly had no plan to push it. You did not want to be where you had been earlier today.

So you eased up your tempo at first, the pulses in your temples slowing down and then you resigned entirely and switched to a different machine. Less cardio, more strength training, while you did not forget to get an enticing view of your fiancé, recalling other times his face got flushed like this.

Except not even sinful thoughts could quite erase the barely-there tingle of pain.

You gave up with a sigh, wiping your hands to your leggings and approached the most handsome man in the gym.

Steve carefully set his weights down, hair sticking to his forehead in a way that should not be as attractive as it was and smiled at you curiously.

“Hey there, handsome,” you humoured him, earning a breathless chuckle.

“Hey beautiful. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Your eyebrows jumped, smile faltering.

“I’m gonna get some air, just wanted to let you know.”

“You okay?” he asked, damp eyebrows furrowing and you couldn’t resist – you smoothened the line out, for some reason actually revelling in how sticky the skin was. “Gross,” Steve mumbled in return.

“How dare you. I’m… fine. Just feeling the head again and don’t want to overdo it. Fresh air might help,” you offered with a shrug.

“Fresh air? In New York City?”

“Fresh-ish.”

Steve dropped a kiss to your forehead, people around be damned and smiled at you, the concern still undeniably present.

“Just don’t run off on me.”

“Run off? On this?” you joked and not joked at all, gesturing to his body vaguely, earning an eye-roll.  Oh but you knew he liked to have his body appreciated alright. The attractive body just happened to hide a soul that would make angels weep, giving him a reason to actually love him. As a refiner of that, you tapped his chest lightly above his heart, grinning up at him. “And from this? I wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie.”

His gaze softened, probably following you even as you made your way to the lockers.

“Don’t forget your coat!” he called out lowly, but loud enough for you and a few people around to hear. You snorted to yourself as the on-lookers probably thought he was being like an overprotective parent – and yet, you smiled at his care.

“Mother-hen…”

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You were frankly grateful to have your coat – warmed up from the gym, the early March air was still rather cold against your skin. You made a mental note to thank Steve, thoroughly, for looking out you. He had also had a point; fresh air in New York wasn’t exactly an available article, but you supposed this would do.

Trying to ease the headache, you breathed in deeply, deciding against leaning against a similarly cold and dirty wall, walking slowly instead, glad that the street was one of the less frequented ones as the gym was just outside the busiest city centre.

You opted for subtly observing your fellow citizens in order to relax your mind and to resist the usual urge to pull out your phone and check what was new in the world. You played a game with yourself, one Steve asked you to play with him sometimes and which always resulted in him complimenting your unique mind which he claimed to love so much; just watching people, wondering about what their story was.

You were ninety percent sure that the guy in the beige trench coat was an accountant hating his job, but sticking with it for the sake of his loved ones; a ring told you there was definitely a significant other for him if not a whole family.

The woman your eyes fell on next, on the other hand, loved her job. Either she had a very enthusiastic colleague she was discussing a certain problem with – her eyes were shining with excitement, mouth seemingly forming very long words, likely a scientist then – or the said colleague was more than a colleague. You felt one corner of your lips rise; you knew a thing or two about blurred lines.

The next guy was--- well, hunk. Judging by his built, you would think he was heading for the gym you were hovering around, definitely reckoning him as a regular visitor. But in his leather jacket, jeans and cap, an inconspicuous clothing at first glance, there was just something about him that unsettled you.

Your heart skipped a startled beat when your eyes met. Your insides twisted uncomfortably as his irises flashed with an emotion you didn’t dare to try and read.

His shoulders seemed even wider now as his right hand reached to his lower back, probably to adjust his jeans and pull them higher to shield his loins from the cold. You didn’t blame him, his jacket wasn’t exactly long, more of a fashion statement, than a practical choice-

“GET DOWN!”

The world swayed of its place as something collided with you hard, the woman’s cry barely having reached your ears before she slammed into you. You landed on your side with a hiss of pain as you hit the ground, but the quiet sound was drowned in something much louder – something that made your blood run cold.

The bang rattled through the city noise, instantly followed by screams—and to your horror, more shots were fired before your brain even registered that someone--- someone actually fired a gun.

Multiple times.

And few of those shots rang right from above you, forcing you to close your eyes and flinch violently in fear.

“Get up!”

Your side throbbed with pain, your chest constricted as you couldn’t breathe in, the command falling on deaf ears.

An iron solid grip circled your arm and tugged you half-way up. Your eyes snapped open, catching a glimpse of blond ponytail before your vision blurred with sudden tears and another loud bang thundered through your head.

“Go, GO!”

Your feet acted on their own accord, moving swiftly, stumbling as you were forced to stagger whichever direction you were being pulled.

Heart racing as if it was meant to escape your chest, the world seemed too slow and too fast at once. You couldn’t tell how you were running away from the terrible noise, but you were – and you were still being tugged to follow your companion god knew where, hand on your bicep, fingers digging in, people getting out of your way more than willingly.

And for a good reason.

It finally connected in your brain that--- that was definitely gun in the woman’s hand. You instantly came to a halt, desperately yanking away from her grip.

“Hey!” she complained and you managed to get a look at the woman manhandling you at last, even as she kept looking back and forth as if checking whether you were being followed.

You felt your jaw go slack. She was familiar; very vaguely, but unmistakably familiar.

“Are you-“ you choked out, fear mixing with relief, because this was definitely the woman from today’s morning, the one who was with the ministry even if she wasn’t wearing glasses anymore and what the hell, did the Ministry of Foreign Affairs teach people how to shoot or-

You yelped when a black jeep pulled over by the sidewalk, causing you to instinctively jump back; and to forget for a second that there was a stranger right next to you who had just been in a gunfight probably on your side and got you as far away from the weird gunman as possible.

The backseat door flew open.

“Get in, Walker!”

Walker. Right. That was her name – the name Chuck, Carmichael, had introduced her with as his colleague. And now this.

What the hell was going on and what had it to do with you?! Why did the woman grab you of all people?!

“Come on, we’re here to help, I promise,” Walker blurted out, her sharp gaze still scanning the street, her head beckoning towards the vehicle.

For some reason, you believed her.

Because she had had an opportunity to shoot you instead of shooting after the guy who had just pulled out a gun in the middle of a peaceful street and she hadn’t.

Decision was made. She certainly was the lesser evil at the moment, even if going with her included meeting whoever was driving the jeep and he could be worse than the gunman. But there was no time to lose any more time by your useless pondering.

You climbed into the car, swiftly followed by the blond, door shutting close just as a bullet hit the wingmirror, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream bloody murder in fright.

You were knocked backwards to the seat and to the side as the driver stomped on the gas harshly, darting from the side of the road into the traffic, horns complaining all around you as he had no regards for the regulations.

“You alright?” the deep timbre from the front seat asked, a grunt following when he took a sharp right, causing you to crash into the other woman.

Your head was spinning, the roller-coaster of madness momentarily rendering you speechless – but the question wasn’t aimed at you.

Which was good, because you were not okay in the slightest.

You were hyperventilating, your lungs burning from the improvised run, your muscles ached from the gym visit and the extra work-out which involved running from a fucking shooter. Your head was back to pounding and your heart felt like it might give out any second.

And you were definitely crying, but all that was the least of your concern, because-- what the fuck was happening?!

Who were these people? Who was the guy who--- who just decided to shoot into the crowd, nearly shooting you? Why did Walker snatch you away from the place, to supposed safety? Why not the others and--- oh god, the others.

Steve!

“We’re good. He obviously got away, but I think I took a good look on a tattoo on the side of his neck.”

The driver – tall, wide-shouldered, with dark-ish hair, that much you could see even with your vision swimming in tears – only grumbled in response.

Before you could say a single word (or yell), your phone vibrated in your pocket and you instantly made a grab for it, pulling it out.

“Is that a phone?!”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about this,” your blond companion blurted out in response to the irritated question from the driver’s seat.

You didn’t even get to accept Steve’s call before the device was yanked from your hand--- and a second later, a knife was sticking out of it, lead straight through the middle.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, horrified, terrified and--- utterly shocked.

What---what- where did it even-?

“Not safe. Had it been an older model, I’d just pull the battery out, but these damn smartphones are impossible to open quickly,” Walker complained as if her words made any sense and as if she had a reason to complain.

Why would she even need to remove the battery?! How--- she just cut you off from Steve!

You stared at her, unable to form words, too many frantic thoughts bouncing off in your aching skull.

“What-“ you lamely breathed out, bewildered, freaked out and thoroughly exhausted.

“We’re the good guys, I promise. Which is why I’m sorry about this,” the blond spoke again, softer than before.

You barely had the time to process that she was reaching behind her back before a brief pain stung your neck, the world spinning faster and faster, darkness closing off your vision… and then it swallowed you whole, the last thing you felt being the backrest against your temple.

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Part 3

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Well, that went off rails quickly. That’s Chuck to you.

I promise things will start making sense... in the meantime:

Excuse my lacking action writing skills, it’s been a while.

Thank you for reading!