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captianspidey · 12 days ago

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Trouble (Part 1)

Pairing – Steve Rogers (The Winter Soldier Steve in particular) x female reader Summary: He came into the club to unwind. You focus on making ends meet. But his shyness and your compassion might be both of your undoing.

Warnings: 18+ content (MINORS DNI!!!), thigh riding, one or two cursewords, pretty much just making out and horniness but PART 2 will be on its way and it will be much more NSFW. Contrary to the title, both of these are consensual.

Word count: 1,914

Snippet: “You getting married soon?” Maybe that was the reason for his reclusiveness, he's got a woman at home and doesn't want to mess up his future. It almost settled a sense of relief in you, to know a good one was still out there.

“I'm just busy at work. I don't get much time off,” he said. You exhaled a sight of relief bigger than you anticipated. You almost swore, with the way his neck perked up, he heard it too.

Random Notes – I was literally driving home from work, and Trouble Man from The Winter Soldier soundtrack came on - the whole story kinda flashed in my mind and I was just so giddy. As soon as I got home, I just kinda let this one go and here we are. I hope ya'll enjoy, and let me know what you think!! :D

Having just come off your set on the main stage, you take your cue with the hoots and hollers around the room from bored husbands and bosses to get all you can. A little shimmy here, some quick flirty convos there, as men stuff the lining of your bra and underwear with singles and double digits. Feeling hot from the stuffiness of the air, and not the attraction of anyone in the room, you shuffle to a mirror in a dark corner behind the crowded bar to make yourself look more presentable. The crisp and crumpled dollar bills felt a bit thicker than your intake from the night before. At least you hope so as you take off your heel and force the bills to the bottom before slipping it back on. Safe keeping.

A separate round of large shouts and hollers come from the entranceway rather than close to the stage. A bachelor party? A happy hours get-together? You couldn't care less to be honest, but you had to care enough while you were on the clock with bills to pay.

A couple of the girls from the back scuttle back and forth from the dressing room, wanting to get a vantage point of the new troupe of customers. We were all desperate for more than the regulars, even if they paid between impish and fairly well. Two servers dipped over to them more than ready to take their orders, as a few of the men began busting out bills for the table, the kind of show and tell to bring over any dancer in a heartbeat.

From where you stood across the floor, the eight of them all looked like they belonged roiding out in the gym, or getting off fighting a war – wearing various combos of black jackets, pants, shirts, slick back hair. The one with the beard had gruffest voice and looked like the leader, and none of them had a problem following his lead. Being loud and gruff for the sake of it.

Except for one. He wasn't even wearing black. You couldn't be sure under shadows of neon lights but he looked like he was donning the most subtle navy blue casual look, not the cargo wear of his pals. Blonde hair. Sharp jawline. Looking exactly like he had no idea what he was doing there. If you were one of your friends, you would've gone to him next. None of the others seemed to think he was worth the hassle, going for the more extroverted ones of the bunch. You almost felt sorry for him.

But you didn't want any problems tonight. Sighing and mentally wishing the other girls luck you made your way around the room, hitting up some guys who cheered the most when you were on stage, some who left you great tips last night.

That sorriness you felt for the lone stranger didn't last long before you found yourself close enough to the table you planned on avoiding.

“What's your name, sweet cheeks,” the loud one, the leader, shouted over the music, letting a loose hand gently graze your back.

You offered your stage name with a tight smile. The tightest most polite smile you could while trying desperately not to eye the wad of cash splayed across the tables that seemed to grow bigger from the time they entered twenty minutes ago. It almost made your heart jump from what that could help you pay off.

“You gonna take care of our boy, [Y/N]?” His suggestion coming off like a barking order. You gonna help take care of our boy, or else, kind of order. You couldn't help but think that they just didn't want him ruining their mood and wanting to fuck anything that moved instead of actually wanting him to have a good time.

The blond guy's face flinched , as one of the waitresses put down a drink in front of him and turned away almost immediately. He seemed to relax a bit but not that much, and that wasn't going to make most of the dancers here spend much time with him if it seemed like he wasn't capable of ponying up.

You didn't pay attention to the loud one. Instead, you offered a heartwarming smile to the one practically sitting on his own in the crowded booth as you maneuvered over to him.

“It's a little loud in here,” you leaned over, remarking.

All he could do was nod his head. You sighed, deeply. Your closest friend who was already joined at the hip to a svelte guy with way too much oil in his slicked back hair gave you a look of pity, and then forced a laugh to whatever he said.

Your hand reached over to his face, redirecting his eyes to meet your gaze. “Why don't we go somewhere a little more private?” you asked, leaning over close enough for him to smell your perfume. Maybe close enough for him to feel, I don't know, safer, at ease.

His eyes were blue. Soft yet sharp, even warm. You didn't expect that being this close to him. With a quick nod of his head, he stood up with more confidence than what you expected. Taking your head in his, you saw the first glimpse of a smile, even if it was a shy one, as his friends howled behind him and threw down more money for the dancers making out on stage.

You led him through to a private suite, with one of the security guards eyeing the both of you as you walked through the threshold. You heard him give a big sigh, making you catch a glimpse of him running his palms over the highs of his jeans. Damn, he was good looking.

“That better,” you noted, as he looked around warily before sitting down in the main both across from you.

You were sure he had to be 6'3'. Probably 250 or 300 lbs covered in pure muscle. He could beat the shit out of every jerk in this place and not break a sweat. Yet, with the way he was sitting on the pleather couch, his shoulders hunched forward and unsure what to do with his hands, he looked like a lost golden retriever. It made you swallow hard, not wanting to buy into all of these small signs of genuine humility. A part of you wanted to swear it an act, and that's what made you focus more on the audio player to find your favorite playlist to collect your thoughts.

A soothing yet sultry saxophone blared out from the speakers. You glided over to him, his eyes finally darting all over your body. You swore it was the first time he was registering exactly where he was. You started moving your hips, swaying and feeling the lump of cash at the bottom of your one heel. At least if you couldn't get anything out of him, you had that pad of take-ins for the night.

“What's your name,” you asked. Your mind couldn't help but think if you had actually seen him before. Not here, but somewhere else.

“Steve,” he offered, his voice much deeper than you expected, so deep that you could feel it light a fire under your skin.

“Those your friends outside, Steve?” you prompted, rolling closer to him, encouraging the closeness to prompt him to lean back. “You guys celebrating a promotion?”

He let out a tentative no, but there was something in his tone that made you believe it was a full-on rejection of the idea. His eyes were zeroing in on your movements. Finally.

“You getting married soon?” Maybe that was the reason for his reclusive nature, he's got a woman at home and doesn't want to mess up his future. It almost settled a sense of relief in you, to know a good one was still out there.

“I'm just busy at work. I don't get much time off,” he said. You exhaled a sight of relief bigger than you anticipated. You almost swore, with the way his neck perked up, he heard it. “The guys wanted me to unwind.”

You rolled your back down to the ground, grabbing your heels, making sure to stick your ass in his face and sway your hips a bit. When you pretended to play with your calves, at this point just improving your front legged stretch from yoga class, you caught a glimpse of Steve's jaw clenching shut.

So, he is an ass man too. For some reason, the observation took to the back of your mind like a note that you could use for later...but surely you wouldn't.

You sighed, rolling upwards and turning around to move in on him.

“Relax,” you told him, your hands opening up the lapel of his jacket and letting your hands briskly grab his shoulders. “I'm not gonna bite.”

You couldn't lie the polite gentleman act was cute. A part of you felt like you wanted to take care of him, show him it was okay to want someone and be wanted. Another part wanted you to help him break free of it, see the fuckboy that was surely hiding underneath. It would be a shame to have all those muscles and tension, and never work them out, especially on you.

“You can if you want to,” whispering close to his ear, hoping the words would make a difference. You whipped your long hair to the side, exposing your neck close to his face, and trying to convince yourself there wasn't a selfish incentive behind it.

“Hmmm,” was all he could muster.

You nod your head in the direction of the sign. NO TOUCHING.

He peered slightly up at you, as your hips rest easy several inches over the tent in his pants. It surprised you how much he seems to be asking for permission without any words. You bite your lips was all he needed as his hands grabbed hold of your waist, firmer than you ever anticipated. He helps plant you over him, the most intimate you were with anyone that night, for as long as you could possibly remember.

“You don't let anyone get this close to you, “ you smooth your hips over and over his, letting his hard member get as close to the apex between your legs as possible without real penetration. “Huh, big boy.” You mean that as an end to the sentence, but can't help but moan instead.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, applying pressure to give you an idea of the kind of restraint he's grasping onto. There is more to him afterall...

Both of you get caught up in the motions, spending what seems like an eternity, letting your hands roam all over each other's bodies, your lips toying with kissing but always leaving him wanting more. Neither of you notice that a more than couple of songs have gone by since he first cupped you into his lap.

You try your best to direct your hips to brush over his more than anything, but more often than not, you're pretty much riding his thigh. You could tell he's holding onto his composure with everything he has by how tense his muscle feel even though his clothes. He lets you practically take off his jacket as you brace yourself against his shoulders and firm chest. And, surprisingly, he seems to have no problems with it. You also have no problems with his calloused yet gentle hands cupping your breasts or gripping your ass, depending on how he alternates between them both.

You roll your hips across his member that's padding and protected by the clothing the two of you still have on. The pleasure you feel sparks your body alive with goosebumps, a tingle all the way down to your toes, feeling so close to euphoria. All of this and he's not even penetrating you. All you could imagine is how much real attention he would give to you, and he really is big underneath you, maybe the biggest yet most devoted one you would ever get from someone at the club or outside of it.

Just when you felt on the precipice of coming undone, you hear a loud banging on the door. And remnants of what sounds like his friends shouting and then laughing on the other side. Of course, the security guard, Max, getting involved as well, you could only imagine either threatening to kick them or kick their asses.

Steve completely relaxed into the cushions, making you take note of his hair disheveled and his hands left supporting your back. You don't remember when but your hands are practically gripping the rim of the booth over him, as your faces are nose to nose. You were probably worse for wear, reminding yourself to check your make-up and hair before going back on the floor. You both are left to do more than start catching your breath.

It takes you a second to realize – the music's moved onto some obnoxious pop song at random. It further thrusts you out of the moment. Definitely not something that will get the most out of your remaining customers.

And, that thought brings you back to reality.

You were actually longer in here with him than your regulars. You probably gave your co-workers the wrong impression of what was going on. Your boss was gonna be pissed.

And, you want to fight this moment of having to go back to work. Because you actually had a nice time for once.

You try not to move as hastily as possible off of him, not enough to put him off from coming back at least. You take your time, managing to straighten out what little clothing you have on and finding a way to stand between his legs.

“Did I manage to help you,” you ask, in a soft tone, trying not to think of how wet you are between your legs and desperate you'll be by the time you get home to take a cold shower.

He stands to meet you as close as possible, his eyes never leaving your face. You breathe in what's left of his warm cologne in the room that feels quickly colder without his embrace. His hands reach into his pockets, and then his wallet. You almost don't want to accept, or look what he is going to offer. He unblinkingly pulls out a wad of cash.

“In more ways than one,” he mentions, softly.

All you could think of in that moment is how your hand is impossibly tiny in his, as he slips you almost double than what is in your heel. And, it almost scares you how little you care about the money you earned, and more about the possibility of never seeing him again.

Sneak peek of Part 2 (coming later this weekend): “No kissing,” you shake your head and try your hardest not to bite your lip. You don't want to make the wrong impression he has on you even worse. “is a rule of mine.”

Without missing a beat, but with a spark in those heavenly blue eyes you missed so much, his tongue darts between his teeth quickly, and he says, “How about eating, then?”

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captianspidey · 2 months ago

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captianspidey · 2 months ago

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LOOKIN' FOR LOVE

butch cowboy!ellie x farmer’s daughter!reader - summary: ellie williams is one of your dad’s ranch hands. she’s mostly quiet and keeps to herself, tending to the ranch and going home after. there’s something about her you can’t get enough of… - notes: set in 1993, reader is 24 and ellie is 32. - warnings: angsty, some homophobia. the rest of the warnings will be added to the chapters.

chapter one - coming soon chapter two - coming soon chapter three - coming soon chapter four - coming soon chapter five - coming soon chapter six - coming soon

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captianspidey · 3 months ago

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obsessed

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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#ella’s bookmarks

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captianspidey · 3 months ago

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#training for the ballet, rogers?

Steve ‘No Chill’ Rogers

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captianspidey · 3 months ago

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Midsummer Cravings

Title: Midsummer Cravings Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple afternoon date—just coffee, something casual—A way to ease back in. Steve was meant to be a gentleman, meant to take his time. But the way you lick your ice cream, he never stood a chance.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Kissing, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up!), Steve Being a Gentleman but…cracks.. Fluff & Smut Balance, (slight plot but mostly smut..) A/N: It's summer here and hot, so… plus decided to branch out and write for Steve! Hope you enjoy this sweaty, needy mess of a fic.

Natasha set him up.

"You busy next Saturday?"

Steve frowned, glancing up from the report he was reading. "No, why? You need something?"

Natasha smirked, arms crossed, the picture of smug amusement. "Well, you're not now."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a date."

Steve blinked. "No, I-what did you do?"

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a condescending pat. "Got you a date. You're welcome, by the way."

He ran a hand over his face. "Nat-"

"Oh, relax, Rogers. She's sweet. You’ll like her." Her smirk widened. "And she thinks you’re cute."

Steve sighed, already regretting whatever was about to happen. "This is a bad idea."

"No, what’s a bad idea is you spending another Saturday night in your apartment alone with your moral crisis and bad TV choices. This? This is a favour."

With that, she sauntered off, leaving Steve sitting there, rubbing his temples.

"It’s just coffee," he had told himself standing at your apartment door, running a hand over his blonde hair. He’d thought about flowers, but that felt like too much. Casual… that’s what everyone had told him. It was an afternoon date. Knocking you opened the door, the sundress you had one covered in little blue and white flowers.

You smiled up at him, and he felt his stomach knot. The way the dress hugged in all the right places sent a flicker of heat through his chest.

"Hi." Your voice was almost breathless as you stepped out, and he hesitated. Was he supposed to hug you? Kiss you on the cheek? Shake your hand? He settled for an awkward nod instead.

"I know we said coffee, but I was thinking since it's so hot… there's this ice cream place a few blocks down. Did you want to?" You seemed a little shy, maybe just as awkward as he felt. Had Natasha been just as pushy with you?

"Sure, that sounds nice. Could use something cold."

And then you smiled.

The kind of smile that could have stopped traffic.

And just like that, his plan to keep things casual was already falling apart.

The two of you walked side by side, the warm summer breeze playing with the hem of your dress. Steve tried not to watch the way you moved, tried to focus on keeping the conversation going instead.

"So, what do you do at SHIELD?" he asked, hoping for something safe.

You glanced up at him with a light smile. "Records management. Down in the archives. I don’t get upstairs much."

Steve tilted his head, picturing you tucked away in the archives, surrounded by dusty files and glowing monitors. "Must be quiet down there. Doesn't it get lonely?"

You laughed softly. "Oh, I don’t mind it. I like being behind the scenes. It’s quiet."

Before he could respond, they reached the ice cream shop. He quickly stepped ahead, pulling open the door for you.

"Oh." You blinked up at him, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, offering a small smile as he stepped aside. "Of course." He tried not to notice the way your hips swayed as you glided through the doorway, the breeze catching the hem of your dress just enough to make his pulse stutter.

Once inside you found a table by the window, where the golden sunlight made your skin glow. Steve returned with the ice creams, setting them down as he settled into his seat handing over your cone.

"So, do you like working for SHIELD?" he asked, stirring his butter pecan with his spoon.

You nodded. "I do. I mean, it's mostly records and data, but I like the quiet. I like knowing I’m preserving something important."

He hummed. "History’s important. Good to know someone’s keeping track of it."

You licked your ice cream absently, smiling. "For me, this job is kind of a happy medium between who I wanted to be and what was expected. I wanted to be a librarian growing up, but I come from a military family. This seemed like a nice mix that kept everyone happy."

Steve nodded, looking away for a moment. "That makes sense. Finding balance isn't always eas-"

He turned his head back just in time to watch your tongue flick out, swiping across the surface of your ice cream, slow and unhurried.

And suddenly, Steve-a super soldier who had fought literal wars-forgot how to breathe.

Christ.

“-y, easy.”

His grip on his own cup tightened, spoon clattering uselessly inside it as he stared at you.

You glanced up. "And what about you? I mean, I know everyone probably asks you about adjusting."

You licked another slow stripe over your ice cream, the movement unhurried, almost absentminded. Steve noticed the creamy texture melting over your lips, dripping slightly onto your fingers.

"Steve?" You raised a finger to your lips, checking for any stray ice cream.

Steve blinked, coughing as he looked down at his cup.

Focus.

"They do," he admitted, clearing his throat. "It's... a lot. Things move fast now. People, technology, expectations. But work keeps me busy."

You smiled. "Nat said you don’t get out much."

He scoffed. "She exaggerates."

"Does she?" You smirked, completely oblivious to what you were doing to him as you kept licking, your tongue curling around the cone, collecting the sticky sweetness.

"Yeah, she-"

You licked around the cone again, and he felt his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably.

His palms felt sweaty.

His shirt felt too tight, so did his pants.

And when you pulled back and swiped your thumb along the rim-your tongue darting out to collect the melting mess on your skin, ice cream dripping over your knuckles and fingers-he nearly fucking dropped his cup.

Because suddenly, he was thinking of something else.

Something just as warm, just as wet, just as milky-white dribbling down your fingers, over your tongue-

"-Nat's just trying to help me get back in the world."

And damn it

Steve shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, too fast, too much, the cold hitting his brain like a warning shot. He clenched his jaw, blinking hard, forcing himself to look away before he did something fucking stupid.

The walk back to yours was painful.

Steve barely spoke, barely breathing, his whole body tense. His dick almost chaffing, straining itself in his underwear. He was thankful he'd worn loose pants for the heat.

He couldn't quiet relax because every time you glance up at him, every time you giggle softly at something he didn't quite register, every time you adjusted the thin straps of your sundress, baring another inch of your golden, sun-warmed skin, his mind went right back to that ice cream shop.

To that tongue.

The way your tongue had run up across your own skin.

By the time you reached your apartment door, Steve felt wrecked. He just needed to get through a simple goodbye without embarrassing himself. Without-

“I had a good time,” you said softly, tilting your head up at him, your smile warm and sincere as you unlocked your door but didn’t step inside.

Steve opened his mouth, scrambling to pull himself together. “Yeah, I-me too. It was nice. I mean-uh-ice cream was a good idea. I, uh-”

You laughed gently, watching him fumble through his words, and something about the sound made his stomach twist. The moment stretched, his pulse hammering as he tried to find something, anything to say to end the night gracefully.

“Well, I-”

But then you kissed him.

It was sudden, soft, your hands resting lightly against his chest as you had to lift onto your toes to reach him. Your lips were warm, sweet, just the faintest hint of the ice-cream lingering there-

He exhaled sharply, hands finding your waist before he could even think, pulling you closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours, and fuck-

You tasted perfect. Like vanilla and chocolate, like something sinfully warm melting on his tongue, and his mind snapped like a rubber band.

"I-sweetheart, I-fuck, I can’t-"

His voice was wrecked, breath heavy as his fingers dug into the soft curve of your hips. He should stop. He should pull away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hands slipped lower, gripping, lifting, as he pushed your door open without breaking the kiss. The moment it clicked shut behind you, he pressed you up against the wall, his mouth devouring yours, lips sliding hot and desperate against your own. His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you there as he deepened the kiss, every ounce of restraint he had left slipping through his fingers.

"Need you. Need you now."

His brain wasn’t functioning anymore. His body took over, instincts roaring to life as he carried you inside, his lips never left yours. It had been too long, it was like his body knew it.

Your sundress barely made it to the bedroom. Steve pulled it up over your head with shaky hands, his breath coming fast as he tried to keep it together. He wasn’t thinking-couldn’t think-his body moved on instinct, pushing, pulling, needing. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy in your rush to feel him, to get to the warm, solid muscle beneath. The fabric parted under your touch, and you shoved it down his arms. He groaned softly at the contact, at you, at the way your hands skimmed over his skin like you had every right to be touching him like this.

Too long. It had been too damn long.

His fingers dug into your thighs, gripping hard as he kissed you again, deeper this time, backing you toward the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he was on top of you, his body covering yours in a mess of limbs, heat, and frenzied kisses. His pulse pounded in his ears, his control fraying with every second that passed. You felt too good. Too soft beneath him. The weight of your hands, the way you pulled him closer, like you wanted this just as badly as he did-he was drowning in it.

Your hands slid down his chest, tracing every dip, every ridge, and Jesus Christ. Steve shook with restraint, barely holding himself together as your fingers teased lower. He was supposed to be in control. But under your hands, under the way you looked at him-flushed, waiting, lips swollen from his kisses-he felt wrecked.

Your fingers slipped around the clasp of your bra, and before you could undo it, his hands covered yours, stilling you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged, chest heaving.

"I-" He exhaled, voice wrecked. "I wish I had time to appreciate this."

A shudder ran through you at his words, and that nearly undid him. His control was thin, fraying, barely there-but when the straps of your bra slid from your shoulders, he broke.

The bra barely hit the floor before his mouth was on you, everywhere. His lips dragged lower, worshipping with each kiss-tongue flicking over the delicate skin of your breast before he sucked, firm but slow, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He groaned as your nipple hardened under his tongue, circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking in slow, deep pulls that sent heat racing down your spine.

The noise you made-soft, breathy, high- You sounded like some sinful fallen angel, completely wrecked, and Steve wanted to hear more. His grip tightened on your waist, kneading into your hips as he lavished attention on the sensitive bud, rolling his tongue over it before switching to the other, drinking in every sound you gave him.

His hands followed, gripping, kneading, pressing into every soft curve like he needed to commit you to memory. You were warm, pliant beneath him, and his self-control was slipping fast. He needed to keep moving, needed to have all of you-but fuck, he could stay here forever, lips latched to your perfect, sensitive skin, revelling in the way you melted for him.

His lips travelled lower, down your stomach, teeth scraping gently against your navel as his fingers curled tight around your hips, holding you still. Then, slowly, deliberately, his hands slid downward, fingertips grazing the delicate curve of your hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. He peeled the soft cotton down, his knuckles dragging against your skin as he worked them over your legs. His tongue tracing outlines of your bellybutton.

His hands found their way back up, gripping your bare thighs, spreading you wider beneath him. He groaned softly, his lips pressing into the sensitive skin there, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he moved higher, higher-

His breath fanned over your skin, hot and teasing as he kissed your bare stomach, lips pressing into the softness there, dragging lower with each exhale. His mind was hazy, dazed, drunk on you. He could feel how much you wanted this, hell, he could smell it-your arousal thick in the air, mixing with the faint traces of vanilla and summer heat that had clung to you all evening. It made his mouth water.

And fuck-he wasn't waiting anymore.

A groan tore from his throat as he grabbed at your hips, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him most, the small amount of fluff between your legs tickled his cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you still.

"Steve-" His name slipped from your lips, breathy and desperate, and he had never wanted to ruin someone so badly in his life.

And just like you had done with the ice cream, Steve's tongue ran up along your perfect, wet pussy, slow and deliberate, savoring every drop of your arousal like you were the most decadent thing he'd ever tasted. His groan vibrated against your core as he flattened his tongue, dragging it through your slick folds before swirling around your clit, teasing, tormenting.

You whimpered, hips twitching beneath his firm grip, and he tightened his hold, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He was drowning in your taste, his tongue lapping at you with slow, measured strokes, each one designed to unravel you completely. The way you gasped, the way your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, had something primal snapping inside him.

"Forgot how good you girls taste," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with hunger before diving back in, his tongue flicking, pressing, fucking into you with a need that bordered on desperation. The way you gasped, your thighs trembling against his grip, sent a bolt of arousal through him so sharp it nearly made him dizzy. He wanted to wreck you, wanted to make you come apart on his tongue before he even thought about taking you any other way.

His cock throbbed painfully against his zipper, straining against the fabric, and he couldn't take it anymore. As he licked into you, his tongue curling and pressing deep, one arm braced against the bed to hold himself up while the other fumbled at his belt. The metal clinked softly, fingers working hastily to undo the button, dragging the zipper down with a rough pull, sighing in relief as the pressure eased.

He groaned against you, the vibration shooting through your core as he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his briefs, palming himself with a frustrated grunt. He was so fucking hard, aching, leaking for you, and the thought of finally being inside you-of making you feel as good as you sounded-had his hips jerking involuntarily.

But first, he needed to finish what he started. Needed to feel you shatter beneath him, needed to hear you call his name before he even thought about pushing inside you.

One hand slid from your thigh, fingers gliding through your slick heat before pressing against your entrance. His mouth stayed on you, tongue circling your clit in slow, torturous motions as he pushed a finger inside, groaning at how tight and hot you felt around him.

"So damn perfect," he muttered against you, his breath hot as he curled his finger, stroking along that spot inside you that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. The noises you made-high, breathy, desperate-made his cock ache even more, leaking against his stomach as he added another finger, working you open, stretching you.

"Ah-oh God, Steve-" you gasped, your voice breaking into a whimper as his fingers thrust deeper, his tongue flicking in perfect rhythm. Your hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at anything to anchor yourself against the overwhelming pleasure he was pulling from you. The way you moaned, breathless and needy, sent a sharp wave of arousal through him, his cock twitching, his self-control fraying with every sweet sound you gave him.

You gasped, your back arching, hands gripping at the sheets, at his hair, anything to keep yourself grounded as pleasure surged through you. He was relentless, thrusting his fingers deeper, his tongue flicking and pressing in time with each motion. He could feel you tightening around him, your body tensing, trembling-

When you came Steve moaned at the sound, the taste that came as you called out his name, a wrecked, needy plea. He didn't let up, coaxing you through it, swallowing every sound, ever drop of your climax, until you were left gasping beneath him, dazed and ruined.

Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark as he took you in-blissed out, flushed, glowing in the afternoon light pouring in.

He couldn't wait another second.

His hands were on you again, gripping your thighs, spreading you wider as he moved over you, his mouth crashing against yours. Your nails digging into his bare shoulders.

His cock, heavy and throbbing, pressed against your wet heat, and he groaned, rolling his hips just enough to feel the slide of you against him.

"Tell me if it's too much," he rasped, voice wrecked. Steve was aware he was big now, aware he was enhanced and could hurt you if he wasn't careful. But he was needy, desperate, his hands gripping your thighs, his cock heavy and throbbing against you. "Tell me-"

You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around him, guiding him to your entrance.

"I want you, Steve. Now."

And that was all he needed.

With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, stretching you around him, filling you completely. His breath stuttered, forehead pressing against yours as he finally, finally had you.

And it was heaven.

"Fuck-" Steve groaned, voice tight with restraint. You were so hot, so tight around him, gripping him like you were made for him. He could feel every inch of you, the way your walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting, squeezing, pulling him in deeper. His forehead pressed against yours, jaw clenched as he forced himself to stay still, to give you a moment, to let you take him fully.

But God, it was killing him. You felt too good, too warm, too perfect.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he exhaled shakily, his hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline. "You feel-fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. So damn perfect."

Your breath came in short, gasping moans beneath him, nails digging into his back as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"Steve-"

His head dropped to your shoulder, chest heaving, fighting the overwhelming urge to move, to fuck you deep and slow until you were a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him. His fingers flexed against your skin, control slipping by the second.

"Tell me I can move," he rasped, voice wrecked, pleading.

You whimpered, your hips shifting just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up his spine.

"Please-move-"

Steve let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing harder against yours as he finally gave in, rolling his hips in a slow, deep thrust. The drag of him inside you was almost unbearable, the way your walls clung to him, hot and tight-

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice breaking as he pulled back and pushed in again, sinking to the hilt, stretching you around every last inch of him. "So good-so damn good, sweetheart-Jesus."

He took his time, gentle but deep, setting a slow, deliberate pace, savoring every slick glide of your body around his. His fingers dug into your hips, his control balancing on a razor’s edge. Every time he pulled out, he dragged against your walls, only to snap his hips forward at the last second, burying himself deeper, making you gasp, making you shudder beneath him.

The way you clenched around him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breath hitching every time he bottomed out-it was driving him insane.

"You’re-fuck, you’re perfect," he muttered against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "Taking me so well-so damn tight, sweetheart-"

Your moans broke against his ear, breathy and desperate, sending another pulse of heat straight to his cock. He could feel himself everywhere, sensitive in ways he hadn’t been before the serum, his body attuned to every reaction you gave him. "AH Steve fuck."

He wasn’t going to last long-not when you kept gasping his name like that, not when you squeezed him like your cunt never wanted to let him go. jsut when Steve thought he couldn't take it anymore, you shattered again for him. The tight, rhythmic pulses of your walls locked down around him, spasming, milking him with each desperate whimper that spilled from your lips.

"Fuck-oh, sweetheart-" Steve groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips, holding you tight as your body clenched around him, dragging him deeper into your pleasure. He could feel you coming, feel the way your entire body trembled beneath him, your legs tightening around his waist as you cried out, wrecked and shaking.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure shooting up his spine, his own release slamming into him with dizzying force. His thrusts grew erratic, sharper, a few final deep strokes as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a guttural moan. His body shuddered, hips pressing flush against yours as he emptied himself, his breath ragged against your skin.

He held you there, still connected, still feeling every aftershock ripple through both of you. His lips brushed against your temple, a shaky exhale leaving him as he whispered, "You’re incredible. Fuck, sweetheart-"

You let out a breathy, dazed laugh, blinking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I-God, I didn't think-" You swallowed hard, your brain still fogged with pleasure. "I didn't think the date was gonna end like this."

Steve let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing over your waist. "

Yeah?"

You bit your lip, still catching your breath.

"I'm not... usually that girl."

His brows furrowed slightly, and he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft, reassuring. "Hey," he murmured, brushing his knuckles gently along your jaw.

"You don’t have to explain anything to me. You’re not ‘that girl.’ You’re you. And this-now was just..."

He shook his head, unable to find the right words. It had been everything.

A warmth bloomed in your chest at his sincerity, the way he looked at you like this hadn’t just been sex, like it had meant something more. You exhaled softly, your fingers grazing along his cheek. "You're not just saying that?"

His lips quirked into a small smile.

"No, sweetheart. And you better believe this means you're getting a second date."

You laughed, a little more sure of yourself now.

"Oh yeah?"

Steve smirked, shifting just enough to press another lingering kiss to your lips.

"Yeah. But next time? I’m definitely buying you dinner first."

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captianspidey · 3 months ago

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sam and bucky in the beginning of tfatws

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captianspidey · 3 months ago

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captianspidey · 5 months ago

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Yeah…

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captianspidey · 8 months ago

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Hey, also, all the anarchist shit aside, tomorrow I want you to make something.

I forced myself to draw something after the 2016 election. I forced myself to draw something when my mother died in 2018. I forced myself to draw something when my spouse was hospitalized for multiple organ failure in 2021.

When you are miserable, make something. Add a row to your project, bake a box cake, draw on a sheet of lined paper, write a poem on a napkin, fold an origami shirt out of a dollar bill, make your favorite recipe for dinner, but make something with your hands, something that you can hold and look at engage your senses in.

It won't fix the world, but it will change the world. You will have made something that didn't exist before. You will have impacted your reality, even in a very small way. And it is going to be something you made *after.* Something bad happened, something shook you, and you made something after, in spite of it.

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captianspidey · 11 months ago

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Work Song • Joel Miller

No grave can hold me down, I’ll crawl home to her.

⚠️ Canon typical violence • smut, unprotected p in v • angst • soft Joel (it needs a warning) • what might be classed as Tommy and Maria bashing • AFAB Reader ⚠️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

Stop. Breathe. Think.

There had to be a way out. There had to be something he hadn’t thought of. Muffled noise was hard to focus on when his heartbeat was louder. He could feel the pulsing pain in his side, his ribs were broken. His guns and his backpack were gone.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Eugene shared a glance with Shane as they approached the gates of Jackson. There would be word spreading soon. Only two riders returned.

They hesitated in the tree line, waited with bated breath. Once they passed this line they would have to explain. Would have to find a way to break the news.

“We don’t know there’s anything wrong. He might have beaten us back here.” Shane told Eugene. Eugene nodded slightly but they both knew they were kidding themselves.

Joel would never leave a man behind. He would wait all night at an outpost and definitely wouldn’t head back to Jackson without a husband and a father.

“He wouldn’t have wanted us to wait. We know the rules.” Eugene sighed and Shane nodded shortly before he nudged his horse out of the tree line.

“Riders!” The tower patrol called and the gates were opened slowly as Eugene and Shane approached.

Jesse paused at the sight of only two returning patrol men and stared at them as they passed. Both men rode in with their heads down, avoiding the stare of everyone.

Maria stood at the stable talking patrol routes with a group of men due to head out for a long patrol in the next week.

She looked up when the surrounding area fell quiet and put a hand out to steady herself against the sudden dropping of her stomach when Eugene and Shane approached on horseback.

Without Joel.

“Where is he?”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel clenched his jaw and tensed his whole body, readying himself for the impact. There was a burst of pain, bright light behind his eyes. But he didn’t make a noise.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Why do I need to know this?” Ellie sighed, her head leaning on her hand. You looked up from the pot you were stirring and found her chewing on the end of her pencil.

“Because a basic knowledge of biology will help in life. Do you know how many people probably wished they hadn’t slept through their bio classes in high school?” You asked her and she sighed heavily, letting her head fall on her notebook.

You only rolled your eyes as you pulled plates down out of the cabinet, eyes on the clock over the window. Joel would be home soon hopefully.

“Set the table?” You asked Ellie and she scrambled to comply, shoving her books into her book bag in an effort to get out of doing her homework in any way possible. “When Joel gets back he’ll help you finish up.”

She laughed and shook her head as she set out the cutlery how Joel had thought her. He still clung to the strangest of Southern traditions. One of the most obvious was his table manners which he was trying in vain to pass on to Ellie.

“Cause he’s gonna know it. Joel’s a high school drop out.” Ellie reminded you and you laughed.

“Joel dropped out of high school to be a dad. Not because he wasn’t smart.” You reminded her while you ruffled her hair when she got close enough, you laughed again when she grumbled about it.

“What’s your excuse?” She huffed, setting three glasses down and filling two with water, a finger of whiskey in the third.

“Gee Els, I don’t know? The end of the world, maybe.” You laughed with her and covered the simmering pot. “Go check the stables and see will they be much longer.”

You all preferred to eat dinner together most evenings. Sometimes home cooked, sometimes at the diner. But eating together was something you had always done with your family and you liked that they did their best to uphold that for you.

Ellie huffed and moved to pull on her converse, sitting on the bench by the front door. A bench Joel built specifically so she would sit down to put her shoes on instead of hopping around and knocking her head on the wall.

A knock sounded at the door just as she had tied the laces on her shoes and you leaned from your place at the sink to look down as she answered the door. Tommy appeared, his hat pressed against his chest and his mouth down turned.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel was alone in the room. Maybe not a room but a shed or barn. There was a lot of creaking going on. The ground underneath him felt like bare concrete but he thought he could hear the rustle of hay when he moved.

Panic was biting at him as he took stock of his injuries. He had been left in a stress position which was murder on his already bad knees. His ribs were on fire, each breath like a brand to his lungs.

His hands were bound to something above his head. Something sturdy enough to hold his weight but it groaned when he pulled. A pipe maybe.

His stomach growled again and he sighed. It had only been a few hours. Regular eating in Jackson had stolen his edge and now he found himself hungry and tired.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the protest from his ribs and pulled, putting all his weight on whatever he was bound to. There was harsh groaning and then a screech.

And then he dropped, no longer suspended.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

You stared at Tommy as he stepped into the hallway past a frozen Ellie. You knew that look. You had seen him do it only once, having to tell Denise that her husband had passed away in the clinic.

A heart attack. That’s what they thought happened. You wondered if this is what it felt like. The pressure building in your chest, your breath catching, frozen stock still.

“He isn’t.” Ellie breathed, moving from the doorway to you. She wasn’t looking at Tommy, hand reached out for you. “It’s Joel. He isn’t. He can’t be.”

“He missed the meet point.” Tommy said with a wince and your eyes narrowed as part of you relaxed just slightly.

“It was a three man patrol.” You pulled Ellie closer by the hand she had reached for you with. You needed to keep her close, keep her safe. “There isn’t a meet point on a three man patrol.”

“Eugene and Jason-“

“You mean to tell me that my husband is missing because those two fucking stoners had to check their grow house?” You asked Tommy, voice low. “Because you know Joel wouldn’t fucking suggest splitting up. You fucking know that!”

“Now look, I’m just the messenger.” Tommy started and you clenched your jaw. “I’m just as mad as you about it and Maria-“

“Oh for fuck sake Tommy. When are you gonna grow a fucking pair and stop hiding in the shadows?” You snapped, a hand running through your hair. “Fucking letting Joel take the fall half your life and now Maria? You ever gonna stand on your own two feet?”

“Now hold on a second-“

“No, you hold on. You heard that those two fucking clowns didn’t wait for Joel and you left them standing? Joel might be dead so that Eugene could check on his fucking weed.” You tell Tommy as he stepped closer in anger. You met him half way, a finger pointed into his chest. “You better fucking hope he’s okay or I’ll make what both of you used to do look like child’s play.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel paused in place to see if the sound had alerted any one. His hands are still bound and the circulation returning to his legs caused a rush of pins and needles so strong he dropped to his knees.

He needs to get out. He needs to get home. Home to you and Ellie.

There’s no noise that Joel can detect when he raises his bound hands to push the blindfold off his face. The darkness blinds him a second time, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s a barn. Wide and barren, hasn’t been used in decades from the looks of things. There’s not much in way of weapons but there is a rusty scythe hanging on the wall. It looks dull but after a few minutes Joel gets his bindings cut and his hands free.

The pipe he had been detained to comes free with a yank and he swings it, testing the weight. It’s not much but it’ll do if he keeps the element of surprise on his side.

A quick turn over of the barn shows nothing else of importance and so he heads for the hayloft, trying to see if he can get a glance of his surroundings.

His arms ache as he climbs and his ribs are still on fire but he pulls himself up, rung by rung, until he’s able to drag himself to the top. He tried not to breathe heavily, leaning on his hands and knees so as not to hurt his ribs further.

There’s an old dilapidated farm house a couple hundred meters from the barn. There’s smoke coming from the chimney though which means whoever stole his pack is probably in there. He grips the metal pipe tighter in his hand and breathes slowly.

Just one more push. It’s always just one more push.

Joel heads for the ladder and finds climbing down is harder on his ribs than climbing up. He attempts to hurry it which results in him losing his footing and falling a couple of rungs, hitting the ground hard with a sickening crunch. Joel fights the urge to vomit, white hot pain bursting through his body.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Now I don’t think this is gonna help-“ Tommy yelled after you as you headed for the Tipsy Bison. Sure as anything you’d find Eugene and Shane at the bar.

For their sake they’d better have changed up their routine.

Ellie followed along side you, her face closed off, her eyes burning with anger. You still held the hand she had outstretched to you in the house. Both of you gripping tightly.

You swung the diner door open and traced your eyes across the occupants and sure as the sky was blue you found Eugene and Shane in the corner of the bar.

You ignored Tommy calling your name and finally released Ellie’s hand, making a beeline for both men who had their heads hung over their drinks. When Tommy called your name they looked up and Eugene stood from his stool.

In his defense he did look sorry. Until your hand cracked against his face. Then he just looked shocked. “You better fucking hope he gets home.”

“We waited for him.” Eugene tried to explain but you only shook your head at him, pointing a finger over his shoulder at Shane.

“You’re just fucking lucky he’s in my way.” You warned, sending Ellie pressing close behind you. “Where did you split up?”

“It was west of here, about three quarters the way through the route. Just after the last post.” Eugene explained and your hand cracked out again. He caught your wrist this time, squeezing roughly. “I let you away with one.”

“You split up with him so you could check your fucking grow house?” You spit at him, attempting to pull your wrist free. “You’re that fucking desperate you couldn’t wait another day till the group patrol headed out?”

“He was fine with it.” Shane attempted to argue. Almost silently Ellie slipped an arm in front of you, the tip of her knife pressed against Eugene’s zipper.

“Let her go or lose your fucking dick.” Ellie warned, voice cold. “And from what I can tell that’s your entire personality.”

Eugene released your wrist which you cradled to your chest, your free hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Cmon Els, while we still have daylight.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel grunted, his arm cradled to his chest. His right arm. All he had was a metal pipe and he didn’t even have both hands to swing it.

His ribs, if possible, hurt worse. Every slight inhalation had him fighting back screams. The pain in his wrist made him want to vomit and he wondered what the fuck he was gonna do.

He didn’t have much time. He knew that. They would be back to check on him again in no time and he had to have a plan or he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Voices.

He froze in place, the panic overwhelming him, they were coming from the farm house. Coming for him. He was going to die in this stupid barn if he didn’t think quickly.

The closer the voices drew the worse the panic gripped him. He stepped back into the shadows, his ragged breathing lighting his ribs on fire.

The door opened, the dark sky on his side as two men stepped into the room. They were too busy talking, a lantern held in one of their hands, too low to notice Joel wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

He swung out between the men, enough strength that the first dropped like a rag doll whose stings had been cut. The second had enough time to dodge, taking a bang to the ribs which made him hiss.

Joel swung again at him but he ducked, his hand freeing the gun on his hip. Joel dove at him, panic pumping adrenaline through his blood.

All he could hear was his breathing and the rhythmic pump of his blood.

He swung the pipe, slamming it down on the head of the man and watching his skull collapse with the force.

Joel didn’t hear the shot. He didn’t even feel the bullet make impact. What he did feel was the warmth of the blood on his trousers. The fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably and then the burst of pain when he stepped forward, his leg buckling out from underneath him.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Pack both first aid kits and a vial of penicillin. Enough food for three days and bring me your gun.” Ellie’s feet pounded on the stairs as she climbed them swiftly. You weren’t far behind her, pulling your rifle from under the stairs and setting it on the table.

You checked it over, knowing it was fine as Joel had cleaned it the night before for you when he was doing his own. You grabbed a box of ammo and left it beside your gun. Ellie appeared by your side, setting her own pistol down before taking off again.

You went through the same checks, loading it for her and leaving her a box of ammo to pack for the journey too.

You left them both there and hurried up the stairs pulling your backpack out of the closet and filling it quickly with anything you thought you might need.

A quiet call of your name made you pause, inhaling deeply. You knew why she was here. What she would say but you wouldn’t be deterred. Not when he could be in danger.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Through and through. The bullet had come out as it had gone in and Joel thanked god for small mercies. His whole body was on fire, the bullet wound in his thigh, his broken ribs and his shattered wrist were all throbbing in tandem.

He had a pistol now and a knife. It wasn’t much but it was something. He staggered his way to the farm house and took a minute to walk the outside of the house, ensuring he couldn’t hear anyone else.

His backpack was just inside the door but his rifle was nowhere to be seen. The farm house was just as dilapidated inside as it looked from the outside. It seemed everything had been lost to the elements besides the living room.

Joel stepped towards the fire, dragging his bad leg behind him. He could hear heavy breathing and wondered if it was his own before someone groaned and shifted on the sofa facing the fire.

Joel lifted the gun in his hand, his left arm shaking. He stepped slowly towards the sofa. The man sleeping only had time to open his eyes before Joel cracked the but of the gun down on his head.

When the man came through Joel had managed to tie him to a chair and was reasonably certain he wouldn’t get out of it. He had taken the time to wrap his leg with the first aid kit from his backpack.

A quick raid of the house offered Joel what he thought might have been painkillers. Three white pills in a bottle. He took his chances and swallowed one down with a shot of whiskey from another of the men’s backpacks. No water to be found.

A small groan alerted him that his new friend was waking up just as Joel managed to splint his wrist and construct a sling for support.

They stared at each other for a second and Joel waited patiently, dropping onto the sofa with a grunt of pain.

“Where’s the others?” His voice was quiet, timid.

“Which one are you?” Joel asked in return, looking him over as he struggled against the bindings.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, you’re either Billy or Tyson. Cause I know which one Mark is.” Joel told him and he winced. In truth Joel knew this was Tyson, he just wanted to leave the man with hope he hadn’t found Billyyet.

“We didn’t mean any harm, man.” Tyson muttered and Joel narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “We just needed the supplies.

“So you beat the fuck out of me because it what? Felt nice for me? Toughened me up a little?” Joel asked, leaning forward and ignoring how his body protested. “Here’s what I’m gonna do Ty, can I call you Ty?”

“No-“

“I’m gonna ask a couple of questions and you’re going to answer them. It’s pretty easy, Ty. I got people I gotta get back to, you know?” Joel asked. Tyson spat at his feet.

Joel shot forward, ignoring the pain and stuck his knife into Tyson’s thigh, right where his own wound was.

Tyson screamed as Joel pulled the knife free, wiping it on his jeans and taking his seat again while the man yelled and bucked against the chair.

“Now. Let’s start again. How many of you are there, Tyson?”

“Four.” Joel’s goddamn bum ear let him down again. A gun loaded behind him. His rifle, he could hear it now he was actively listening. “Something you should’ve checked before you killed two of our brothers.”

Joel sighed heavily and inhaled. He stared at Tyson, counting the seconds. Tyson was sobbing now, either from the physical pain or the emotional pain. Joel didn’t know and didn’t care.

The rifle pressed against his neck and he swallowed again.

“Ben, I take it?” Joel asked, reaching up over his shoulder quickly and pulling the rifle forward. Ben jerked the trigger by accident and Joel yelled at the noise in his ear but he didn’t give up, pulling sharply again and knocking Ben off course.

Joel only has time to duck, his rifle in his arm before he scrambled from the couch and swung the rifle strap over his shoulder. He made sure to keep the sofa between then as he grabbed the gun in his waist band.

When he looked up Ben was frozen, staring over Joel’s shoulder. Joel chanced a quick look back and watched Tyson as he gasped for breath, the blood on his chest spreading, soaking through his t-shirt.

Ben had shot Tyson.

Joel didn’t hesitate, he lifted the gun and shot once at Ben and a second time at Tyson. Putting them both out of their misery.

He collapsed back onto the sofa, ears ringing and body burning. When the adrenaline fled his system he was shaking. One small touch against his leg let him know he needed to start worrying about blood loss.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

With his face tucked in your neck he couldn’t see your expression but he didn’t need to. He knew how you’d look, jaw hanging down, eyes rolled back in your head as you moaned quietly in his ear.

He continued the slow grind of his hips, pushing deeper with every slide of his body against yours. He made sure that each press abused your already swollen clit. He could still taste you on his lips, smell you on his beard.

He groaned again, sponging kisses to your neck before exposing his teeth to nibble against your skin. “Feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, clenching tighter with every minute that passed. You were boneless, two orgasms deep and a third building slowly. “All yours.”

“Damn fucking right.” He groaned, hot breath against your neck causing you to shiver. “My pretty baby and her sweet fucking cunt.”

“Joel.” You whimpered, nails scratching against his scalp. “Make me come.”

“You’re in charge.” Joel groaned, pulling back so he could slam into you in earnest. “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” You ask, moaning loudly.

“You want it, I’ll make sure you get it, baby.” Joel told you through gritted teeth as he pushed into your tight, wet heat again and again.

“What if I asked you to burn Jackson down?” You asked teasingly and he rolled his eyes, bring his hand up to your mouth, presenting you with two fingers.

“If it was something you needed then baby, I’d burn the fucking world down. I’d kill every person in my fucking way to getting you want you need.” He told you earnestly as you sucked on his fingers.

He pulled them from your mouth and brought them down to rub against your clit, rendering you speechless as your orgasm hit you.

A few minutes later you lay across his chest as you both attempted to catch your breath. Joel’s fingers traced patterns up and down the line of your spine. You were tracing the same patterns into his chest hair.

“Burn the world, huh? Sounds dangerous.” You teased. Joel smiled, huffing a small laugh that made you bounce against his chest. “What if you get hurt doing it? What if you die? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Baby, if you think there’s a grave that could keep me from you then you’re crazy. I’ll always come home, crawlin’ on my hands and knees if I’ve gotta.”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel can’t move. His whole body is one big starburst of pain. He knows he needs to get moving, knows that he doesn’t have long. There could be more of the group and they could be back any second.

But he can’t move.

His head is spinning and he knows he lost too much blood. The spinning is compounded by the fact that breathing is a nightmare. He doesn’t know where he is or how to get back to Jackson.

He rolls off the sofa, landing on his knees which jolts just about every injury he has. He barely catches himself on his good hand and vomits up every thing in his system from the pain.

He uses the sofa for leverage to push himself up off his knees. He staggers slightly, catching himself in enough time that he doesn’t careen into Tyson’s body, still tied to the chair.

He grunts as he moves, his leg dragging behind him. Each step is torture, a life time of bad karma catching up with him.

He checks over Ben but doesn’t find anything besides another knife. He leaves it where it is and hobbles out the door Ben left open behind him.

Joel doesn’t expect much but the sight of his horse is enough to almost bring a tear to his eye. No crawling needed this time.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“What do you mean you aren’t sending a search party?” You ask Maria. She stands at your kitchen table and refuses to meet your eyes. She had sat at this very table just last week for your birthday dinner. She had laughed and joked with your husband while he held her little girl in his arms.

“We aren’t ready. A route needs to be planned, quadrants divided among patrol men. Marching out without a plan will lose men.” She warned, slipping into her role as a council member, not a sister in law.

“Do you think he’d hesitate? Do you think he’d wait for routes and quadrants if it were anyone else out there? He wouldn’t have even come back without Eugene or Shane. Those cowards-“

“Followed the rules. Something Joel has never done. He flaunts it in our faces time after time and I’m not going to let everyone else get hurt just because he wouldn’t care if the shoe was on the other foot.” Maria interrupts and you stare at her, jaw dropped. Ellie mutters a curse from beside you and you reach out for her. “Joel will be able to survive on his own until we get a group together. Lord knows that anyone that takes him on is in more danger than he is.”

The chill in her voice makes you hold the rebuttal you had. Your mouth closes as you catch the silent distaste from her and your hand moves to Ellie’s back.

“Wait on the porch, Ellie.” You speak evenly and even short tempered Ellie can hear the rage boiling over your words. She looks up at you and over to Maria, her fingers reaching for your sleeve. “Just a few minutes. I promise.”

“My husband is missing. He’s god knows where with god knows who. Neither Eugene or Shane backtracked or attempted to see if he’d been injured. I don’t know if he’s fallen off his horse, if he’s been bitten and is currently trying to decide wether or not to blow his brains out or if raiders have him and are beating him to death because he’d rather die than betray Jackson.” You tell Maria once Ellie has cleared the room. “He has fought with everything he has for over twenty years and if you want to say something about that, well now’s your chance.”

“I’m just saying that maybe, if there’s karma out there, that-“ Joel’s glass smashes, the whiskey splashing you both when you sweep it off the table, leaning towards Maria.

“Your husband done everything that mine did. So if it’s karma that’s hurt Joel out there then you’d wanna wrap Tommy up tight.” You warn her and she bristles, her jaw clenched.

“You know damn well that Tommy-“

“Was a grown man? With two hands? He pressed every trigger, he planned every attack. Just like Joel. So that they could survive. So that they could be alive to love us. Joel never pointed a gun at Tommy of that I can be absolutely fucking sure.” You told Maria, cutting her off. “Tommy was in the fucking army before it all happened. You think he sat twiddling his thumbs there?”

“There’s a team heading out in the morning. You won’t be given a horse before then. Sundown is in an hour. You won’t make it. I won’t condone it. You need to think of Ellie.” Maria left without further comment.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel didn’t know pain like this existed. Every movement of the horse jolted each of his injuries. He had tried everything, every speed to see which hurt the least and there was no answer that didn’t have him biting the reins so as not to scream out.

Night was closing in fast and he was still too far from the closest patrol safe house. He needed to stop for the night but there was nowhere safe to stash himself and the horse. He stuck to the trail when he could, hoping he wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

He had to stop twice to bandage his leg again. The blood had slowed but it hadn’t stopped and he knew that was dangerous. He just had to get home. Tommy and him shared a blood type. He’d be fine if he got home.

Something cut across the trail causing his horse to rear back. With only one hand Joel didn’t have a chance, falling back and rolling into a ball as the horse stampeded and took off.

Joel stared at what was visible of the sky through the trees and gasped, attempting to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

This was it.

He would have to break his promise.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“You’re going to be late.” You laughed when he began sponging kisses over where your towel wrapped around you. He moved your wet hair over your shoulder and continued kissing a path up your spine.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed attempting to get dressed while he was having his twenty extra minutes. It seemed he didn’t want to waste them sleeping today.

“It’ll be fine. Eugene is always late. It’s my turn.” He whispered and you felt the bed shift behind you as he sat up. You laughed when he tugged on your towel and you let him have his way. “Fuck.”

“See something you like?” You asked with another light laugh. His hands cupped your hips and travelled up your sides which had you writhing away from him while giggling. “Stop it. I give in.”

“Yeah, you giving in?” Joel asked against your neck, sucking kisses drawing the blood to your skin. “Gonna let me have my way with you?”

“Mhmm, I should’ve expected this when I married a dirty, old pervert.” You teased, gasping when he used his teeth to bite down. “All those years in the wild has left you depraved.”

“Who could blame me? A hot young wife like you, walking around half naked and basically begging for it like a bitch in heat. Well any man would have trouble resisting you.” Joel’s hand slipped around your side while he spoke to cup your breast. He thumbed lightly at the nipple before pinching harshly.

You gasped, leaning back against him as your hips lifted of their own accord. His words only fueled the fire and you whimpered, your head falling back on his shoulder. “Ain’t so smart now, are you Mrs Miller?”

“Nuh uh, Mr Miller.” You whispered as his hand slipped down over your stomach. He ran a finger down your slit and groaned against your neck. “I ain’t even touched you yet, baby.”

“Was thinking about you in the shower.” You muttered. He laughed against your neck. “Was hoping you’d wake early enough for this.”

You breathing turned shaky as his finger ran over your clit, barely there pressure making you twitch. “Yeah, is that why you were making so much noise getting ready for the day? Need me to take you apart first?”

You groaned as Joel pulled you back to sit between his legs. He was leaning against the headboard, keeping you faced away on purpose. He knew you liked to look at him. “Mhmm.”

“Couldn’t let me lie in. I fucked you twice yesterday, Pretty Girl. That wasn’t enough?” Joel asked, adding pressure to the finger circling your clit.

“Never enough.” You told him honestly. It was true. You don’t know how either of you managed to get anything done. From the moment you had met Joel, scared and defenseless on the outskirts of Jackson, he had enchanted you.

You had thought that maybe you had been alone so long that the trip back with him, sharing a horse had been the closest you had to human contact in months, made it seem reasonable that it had an effect on you.

“Insatiable.” He whispered in your ear, sliding a deliciously thick finger into you. The angle was off and he knew it wouldn’t do anything but tease you. “That’s what I get. Hard to keep up in my old age. Shouldn’t have snatched you out of the cradle.”

“I’m thirty- thirty six.” Your words caught on a moan when the palm of his hand pressed against your clit. “Hardly cradle snatching at that point.”

“I’m pushing sixty sweetheart. If I had a couple million dollars I could be a more handsome Hugh Hefner.” He teased as he inserted a second finger.

“That what you want? For me to put on some lingerie and bunny ears. Jacked it to playboy back in the day, did you?” You asked and he groaned. “Well old man, if you can’t keep up then let me take over.”

He laughed and raised his hands as you shuffled around to straddle his lap. He pulled the sheet back to bare himself to you and held you steady as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. “Always so fucking tight.”

“Cause you’re so fucking big.” You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment while you adjusted his hands were on your hips, thumbs stroking the skin softly.

“You ready, baby?” He asked softly as you started to shift your hips slowly. “Gonna take me?”

“Promise me.” You whispered, moving yourself slowly. The teasing was gone now, your hands cupping his face. “Make me the promise.”

“I’m coming home today.” He promised, his hands helping your hips in the slow grind, your clit rubbing against his happy trail. “If I have to crawl.”

“You’ll always come home, right?” You asked and Joel pressed a soft kiss to your lips, closing his eyes. “Promise.”

“There ain’t a force that could hold me down.” He promised quietly. “I’ll come home to you.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Joel wasn’t alone. He could tell as much from the sounds around him. He was still over an hour from the closest safe house and darkness had settled over the forest like a blanket.

His vision was impaired and with his already shit hearing it had taken him a while to hear it. A stalker.

He wasn’t sure if that was worse or better than another of the merry band of brothers. His rifle was shit to him in the dark and he barely had the strength to raise it anyway.

At this point it might be easier to crawl. He considers it, getting down on his knees and crawling along with his one good arm.

Lying down is tempting if he’s honest. He’s got the pistol. It could be quick, painless even. He wouldn’t miss this time. He would be sure of it.

He knew the sound of his daughters voice was most likely due to blood loss. But his brain couldn’t rationalize the look of her in the forest. She was wearing her soccer uniform and he hissed at her to keep it down.

“It’s not safe. It ain’t safe, baby girl.” He hushed as the noise drew closer. He had to catch her, keep her quiet. She didn’t know, she had never known this world. “Sarah, baby, please.”

She continued to skip ahead, that same grin on her face. The Miller grin, it only ever lead to trouble. He could go back to her.

He could spend every day kicking a soccer ball with her and watching terrible movies. It wouldn’t be so bad. He missed her. He missed her so much.

“Sarah, you gotta be quiet.” She stared at him in horror and Joel knew without knowing. He ducked and the stalker overshot him just slightly, hitting the ground and rolling back. Joel freed his knife and brought it down, flinching back from the smell of rotting flesh and the teeth inches from his face.

He stumbled over the body of the stalker and waited for the next one to appear. The forest was still. Joel couldn’t hear his daughters laughter or the shifting noise of a stalker in the trees.

He was alone. Again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Ellie had fallen into a fitful sleep. You had woken her twice from nightmares, your shirt damp from her tears. You had never seen her so scared but you had never seen her without Joel. Some days it was hard to remember she was only sixteen when she carried everything on her shoulders.

She was just a little girl and her dad was in trouble. He was missing and she couldn’t help him anymore.

You weren’t much better, replaying his promise to you that very morning. He had to be okay because if he wasn’t okay there was no way you would be.

You’d be strong for Ellie, you knew that much but you wouldn’t be able to stay in Jackson. Not when every turned corner would bring back his memory.

“You better be crawling, old man.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Come on, Dad. We’ll be late.” Sarah was laying in the grass next to Joel. She was trying to convince him to come to her.

“You’d like them. You know.” Joel told her quietly, his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain that came with every movement. He was so cold. “She’d have been a good step mom.”

“She’d have been a good older sister.” Sarah teased and Joel laughed. It was true, she was only a couple of years younger than you. “She’s good for you.”

“Ellie too. She’s not you. She’ll never be you.” Joel told the ghost of his daughter by his side. “But she helps when I miss you.”

“Good. You need that. It’s time you forgive yourself for me.” Sarah sighed and Joel opened his eyes, turning his head to the empty forest.

“You better be crawling.”

He huffed a laugh and winced, rolling over and shoving himself up to his feet. “I’m coming baby.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

First light finds you at the stables. Ellie is preparing Shimmer while you go through the bags one more. With Joel being lost the stables are down a horse and you consider sharing with Ellie.

The only downside is you don’t know how stable Joel will be and three people is just too much for Shimmer to carry, especially with Joel.

“A patrol will be leaving at midday.” Maria is standing behind you when you turn. She looks as if she’s gotten as much sleep as you have. “It’ll take a while to organize supplies for a patrol that may take up to a week.”

“Midday is too late. Ellie and I will head out now. We’ll follow the route. Leave markers if we have to leave it for any reason.” You told Maria, looking over her shoulder.

“I can’t let you do that.” Maria spoke evenly and you turned to find Tommy and Darren flanking her. “Those horses are property of Jackson. You’re erratic, you’ll make mistakes. Get yourself hurt.”

“Keep your horse then. We’ll go on foot.” You shrug, pulling your pack up on your shoulders. Ellie joined you at your side, leaving Shimmer at your words. “That’s not something you can stop me doing.”

“We need to look at the reality of the situation.” Darren spoke up and you raised your eyebrows at him before looking across to Maria’s other side at the very quiet Tommy Miller.

“What other reality is there? My husband is probably hurt and I’m going out to help him.” You shrugged and Maria shook her head. “Don’t.”

“You’ll get hurt. It’s not worth-“

Silence fell as Ellie raised her pistol slowly, pointing it at Tommy. You stared at her and tried to fight the smile. She couldn’t know you approved of what she was doing. “You were saying?”

“Ellie. Lower the gun.” Maria spoke quietly, inching towards Tommy who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Don’t joke around like this.”

“Who’s joking?” Ellie asked, her thumb knocking the safety off. “Cause either you got a problem with Joel, which you better not, or you got a problem with husbands. In that case I’ll help get rid of yours.”

You covered your mouth so that she wouldn’t see you smile but you didn’t say anything, watching Maria go through the thought process. “Maybe it’s father figures? Want your kid to grow up without one so she can be cool and edgy like me?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Maria warned, her jaw tight with tension.

“So are you. Cause it sounded like you were gonna say Joel wasn’t worth it.” Ellie told her, coiled just as tight with tension. “If you feel that way about someone we care about then why the fuck shouldn’t we treat you the same?”

“You’re awful quiet for a man who don’t seem to give two fucks about his brother.” You spoke up finally, eyes on Tommy. He stood to attention but his rifle was still slung over his shoulder, relaxed.

“Y’all are gonna point that gun at me no matter what I say.” He shrugged idly. “Turns out I ain’t able to stay on everyone’s good side. Joel has been through some pretty bad things and I think that he’ll hold on somewhere until we can get to him.”

“He wouldn’t have this discussion. He’d have been out that gate before Eugene and Shane had finished explaining.” You told him and Tommy nodded, agreeing with you.

“I ain’t pretending to be Joel. I’ve got a baby and a wife to think of. He’d kill me if I got hurt on his honor.” Tommy explained. “Now you told me yesterday to grow a pair and I’m telling you I did. I’m praying my big brother is okay but I can’t let my little girl grow up without a daddy.”

“He’s protected you-“

“Since I was four years old and our daddy went to get the paper and never came home. Our momma wasn’t much good and so he stepped up. He bailed me out of jail more times than I count.” Tommy interrupted. “He made sure I stayed alive all through the end of the world. I ain’t forget every sacrifice he made. He woulda been happier just rolling over and dyin’ after Sarah but he stayed alive. For me.”

“Then why-“

“Seems a piss poor way to thank him for saving my life by putting it on the line like this. You two should think about that. I know he’s made his fair share of sacrifices for you both, too.” Tommy said and you sighed, lifting a hand to cover your face, eyes burning with tears.

“He’s all alone.” You whispered and Ellie clutched you. “He ain’t ever been all alone. What if he can’t find a reason to keep fighting?”

“He’s got two great reasons right here.” Tommy promised. “He wouldn’t dare forget that.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You had only left the lamp on in your living room. The low light lended you a softness in its golden glow. It kept everything cozy and personal, gentle.

Gentle just like his hands that held you up. Your back pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist. He held you like you were precious, kissing you softly.

“You sure about this?” He whispered against your lips. “Don’t owe me anything, sweetheart.”

“I want everything.” You whispered back, your hands cupping his face. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, feeling the heat of his breath. “I have since that first moment.”

“There’s better men out there. Younger, kinder.” He warned you and you rolled your eyes. “I mean it, you think I’m a good man because I helped you. A few years ago I might not have.”

“While I highly doubt any version of you would’ve been able to tamp down your noble spirit, how fortunate am I that got this version of you?” You asked him, your hand moving to the back of his neck. “I want you, Joel. Scars and all.”

“You might change your mind in the morning.” He sighed, his head tipping back into the fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck. “What happens then?”

“Well in the extremely low chance that happens we act like two adults that had sex casually. We get over it.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

“I won’t be able to get over it. I haven’t been able to get over you since the first time I touched your skin. Getting this, getting everything, I won’t survive it not working out.” He muttered and you sighed against his lips, using the hand at the back of his neck to push him close enough to kiss.

“Then take me to bed and keep me forever. It’s the only way it can work.” You whisper when you separate. He huffs an incredulous laugh before his grip shifts and he’s supporting you entirely, heading for the stairs.

“Well if that’s the only option, I guess I’ll take it.”

Think. Think. Think.

You had stayed in the stables with Ellie while the discussion took place. Tommy led the team, a map spread out over a barrel as he divided up routes for each team to take.

Initially he hadn’t wanted you or Ellie to go but for the sake of peace he had given in, assigning you both the creek trails. It was as much of a peace offering as you were gonna get so you both taken it.

“We got a live one!” A call came from the tower, drawing everyone’s attention. It was almost casual how disinterested you were in an infected getting this close to Jackson.

It was rare it happened but that’s what tower patrols were for. To deal with a situation like this. There was a pause and then a yell.

“Don’t fucking shoot! For the love of god don’t shoot. It’s Joel!”

Everyone paused in place, not daring to move a muscle. Several long seconds passed before you ducked by Tommy, tearing out of the stables towards the gate that was opening slowly.

And there he was. He was down on his knees, one hand across his chest in a sling. He was covered in blood and bruises but he was there. You slipped out past Jesse and skidded along the mud on your knees to land in front of Joel.

“I promised.”

Think. Think. Think.

Joel’s breathing was labored and even in his sleep he grunted in pain on every exhale. The sheet was low on his waist, showing of the mottled expanse of his chest. It was easy to see which ribs had been broken by the deep purple coloring.

His wrist was wrapped in a hard shell cast which Ellie had already signed with a black sharpie she had been coveting.

Hidden by the blanket was the knife wound which hadn’t knicked any arteries but had led to the need for two transfusions from Tommy just to give Joel enough of a chance to fight through his injuries.

You had spent most waking seconds with him in the clinic. You slept curled up in the chair and the rest of time you held his uninjured hand. The swelling on his face was going down slowly and he was beginning to look like your Joel again.

Ellie dipped in and out between school and spending time with her friends. You had assured her that he was fine and that you’d come get her if she was needed.

Your finger traced over his scarred knuckles and you wiped a tear away. His hand twitched in yours, lifting to wipe your cheek clumsily.

“Those tears better not be for me.” He grunted.

“Nah, they’re for me. You’re such a pain to keep on bed rest.” You teased, throat tight against the onslaught of emotion. “How you feeling, old man?”

“Like shit. Do you know how I broke my wrist?” He asked, looking up at you, shifting against his pillows. You only shook your head silently, unable to say anything for fear it would just be a sob. “Fell down a fuckin’ ladder. Was a contractor all my fuckin’ life and I fell down a ladder.”

You laughed wetly, the tears falling freely now. He tried to shush you, his free hand pulling you closer until you were curled up on his good side. “I was so scared.”

“Made you a promise, didn’t I?” He asked, a lightness to his voice so you’d know he was teasing. “There ain’t a force in this world that could keep me from coming home to you.”

You press your face into his neck as you attempt to compose yourself. You sniffled quietly and he tightened the arm wrapped around you. “Don’t ever put me through that again. Ellie and I almost got us kicked out of Jackson.”

“Oh yeah?” Joel laughs like it’s funny. “You causing trouble baby?”

“Ellie held Tommy at gunpoint. Maria and I fought so bad I thought she’d shoot me herself.” You told him quietly and his shifted around until he could look you in the eye.

“Why?” He asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“They didn’t want us to go looking for you.” You told him and he sighed. “I also hit Eugene.”

“Baby, it wasn’t his fault.” Joel assured you, raising the hand covered in a cast to smooth a finger over your cheek.

“Everyone knows why you’d split up.” You argued and Joel only rolled his eyes. “And then Maria and Tommy wouldn’t let us go. They, well Maria, said some pretty nasty things about you.”

“Maria’s got her reasons. I don’t know how much I’d like me if I was in her position.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes this time. “I’ve done some bad things, baby.”

“Just as many as Tommy has!” You argued and he sighed, sick of the same argument. You knew Joel was no saint but that didn’t make Tommy much better. “Told him to grow a pair.”

Joel laughed before wincing at the pain in his ribs. You let the conversation go and pressed in closer to him, your hand running up and down his chest carefully.

His breathing steadied and you assumed he had gone back to sleep. You continued to lie next to him, touching him softly.

“If heaven is real, they ain’t ever gonna let me in. No god could forgive me for what I’ve done.” Joel spoke and you looked up at him, your hand resting over his stomach.

“I ain’t too worried about a god that let the world fall to ruins like this. He’s got more problems than what you did to survive when I get to him.” Joel laughed, groaning in pain again. “I don’t care. About any of it. You’re my husband, you’re Ellie’s father. That’s what I care about.”

Think. Think. Think.

Maria calls by when Joel has been back home for a few days. He’s allowed sit up in bed but that’s all. You’ve taken it upon yourself to enforce his bed rest and he’s decided the rewards are very much worth it.

He learned the hard way what happens when he ignores your ruling in favor of stumbling down the stairs and collapsing against the couch in the short time it takes you to head to the trading post in town.

He had hurt his ribs which had only made it worse when you took a seat on the rocking chair in your bedroom, the one he had built you.

He had watched as you had brought yourself to orgasm, in too much pain to even sit all the way up.

It was the first time he had seen you have an orgasm without his help and it hurt more than all of his injuries combined. He had learned his lesson quickly.

So when Maria knocked he didn’t even look up from the book he was reading and you kissed his cheek in reward before crawling out of bed and heading for the stairs.

You opened the door and felt your smile drop as Maria stood in place, her hands folded in front of her. “I owe you an apology.”

You knew that you should accept it, send her on her way, and get back to Joel. It was all water under the bridge. “Damn right you owe me an apology.”

“I’m not sorry that I didn’t let you leave.” She explained, shifting her weight. “I was right, I knew he would get back here on his own.”

“Just fucking barely!” You couldn’t help the explosion. “Do you know how close I got to never seeing him again?”

“I understand but-“

“You play God here. You choose who is worth your time and who isn’t. You ain’t got a problem with Joel’s past when it makes him the best for patrol. When it’s raiders and smugglers he’s killing.” You snapped and she sighed. “He’s not your little soldier, that’s what you hate. You can bend Tommy to your will but you can’t have him.”

“I came to apologise.” She ignored your point and it made you even angrier. “I want to apologise for judging how he kept himself alive.”

You paused at that, not expecting her to admit it. She took a deep breathe and clasped her hands in front of her. “You were right. The choices they made brought them here to us. Tommy is alive because Joel made sure of it. I owe him everything I have.”

“I’m glad we’re clear on that.” You muttered petulantly, unable to stop yourself pulling the same face Ellie did when she was proven right.

“He loves you so much.” Maria sighed softly. “He used every last reserve a person has to get back here. He’s a different man when it comes to you.

You sighed and shook your head. “You still don’t get it. He’s not a different man with me. He’s the exact same man he’s been for over fifty years. I love him in every phase of his life. Given the chance I wouldn’t change loving him.”

You stared at Maria for a long second before shaking your head again and shutting the door in her face. You climbed the stairs and found Joel with his book in his lap and a proud smile he was trying to hide.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She ain’t wrong.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“Course she is. That’s my husband she’s talking about. I wouldn’t swear myself to just anyone in this world. Only the best.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel had only just earned the right to tackle the stairs again after two weeks of bed rest. He was reveling in his new found freedom by sitting on the sofa rather than the bed.

You had begun returning to society, picking up a few shifts down at the Tipsy Bison and trusting him to behave. You knew he would, he was wrapped around your finger.

He had just found a position that didn’t irritate any of his still healing injuries when there was a pounding at the door. He sighed to himself got up from the sofa, staggering slightly on his bad leg.

An irate Eugene was at the the door, his face red and his eyes wild. He attempted to shove past Joel who wasn’t so injured that he allowed it. He shoved Eugene back over the threshold, his eyebrows furrowed.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joel asked, his hand raised to shove Eugene backwards again if needed. He was incoherent with rage so Joel just stared at him.

“Where the fuck is she?” He snapped at Joel who frowned at Eugene. “The fucking bitch of yours, where is she?”

“Now Eugene, I got two lovely ladies in my life and I know you ain’t referring to either of ‘em as a bitch. So let’s try again before I gotta bust my stitches and break my cast to teach you a lesson.” Joel warned and Eugene attempted to shove by again only for Joel to shove harder this time, knocking him back a step.

“She fucking done it. I know she did. She’s the only one who would’ve. That fucking wife of yours.” Eugene’s eyes flashed and Joel reached forward, his fist curling in Eugene’s shirt.

“You don’t talk about my wife like that. I ain’t said nothing about the bruises you left on her wrist cause I been in recovery and she did try to hit you a second time. But don’t think I didn’t notice. If I think you’re gonna hassle her further I’ll bury you in that back fucking yard and use you to fertilize her flowers.” Joel warned, voice low. He barely noticed Tommy opening the gate behind Eugene and making his way up towards the porch.

“It’s all gone. It had to have been her.” Joel took a guess at what was missing as Eugene stepped back. “Years of fucking work.”

“She ain’t been outside that wall without me since the day she came in it. So walk fucking away. And don’t let me hear you been hassling her.” Joel warned. Eugene turned with more drama than Ellie during a tantrum, stalking past Tommy and banging the garden gate behind him.

“Wild that. Someone moved every single plant he had. You know how much that is?” Tommy asked and Joel looked over at his brother’s smirk. “Enough to fill the basement of that mansion a few miles away. Heat lamps were tough to get up there but there was already a generator in place.”

“You son of a bitch.” Joel grinned.

“That’s your mama too you’re talking about.”

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