#decorate the front window for the seasons..... Host little events.... Leave the door cracked open in the summer....

[kahlsflannel]

The Summer

Part One: Mr.Rogers

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) lives with her parents at their exquisite mansion, tucked away somewhere in the midsts of Michigan. Summers are always dull, and usually spent by her lonesome. However, when her parents invite a few choice friends from college to spend the season with the family, (Y/N) gets the chance to meet good ole Steve Rogers, and realizes this summer isn't going to be like any others.

SERIES WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 18, Steve is 40.) eventual smut

CHAPTER WARNINGS: none, except for hot Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Modern!AU)

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: Hi hi hi. My hiatus is technically still going but I had this idea and wrote 1,500 words and my brain is still going brrr so please enjoy. Btw, the Steve in this is based of Infinity War Steve. Big man. Beefy man. Wow. Anyways, I hope you enjoy <3

Summer heat was always her least favorite. As she neared the lake house, a humid gust of the wind blew upon the nape of her neck, wetting the small baby hairs, sticking them to her skin. She hated it. Hated all that came with the season. Scolded the wasps as they bounded around the fruit trees, dipping their sharp bottoms into the dainty flowers, pink like soft flesh flushed with blood. Summer typically brought nothing but toughened soles and dinner parties, lonely nights and cold waters. Summer was her least favorite. She hated how her birthday feel right at the end of the spring, catapulting her into being grown during the quiet lull of the year. Eighteen was a strange age. It carried a heavy weight upon its brow, giving all the responsibilities of a seasoned adult without the years of tiresome experience. She compared to a game of dice, rolling and rolling, hoping to get the right numbers, but usually coming out plain wrong, and having to try and try again until fingers became nimble enough to angle the squared pieces in the right way.

Shoes pressed into the thick, muddy sand by the murky waters of her father's prized lake. It spanned across their property, hosting a family of mallards and several types of game fish that her father would brag about during events, pointing to taxidermied trout plastered on the wall of their dining room as he went on about how many swam the depths of the body outside. She had never cared for fishing, finding it tedious and tiring. She also despided the idea of prying a barbed hook from the mouth of a fish, just to release it and let its blood pollute the waters. Alas, she came from a family of hunters and fishermen, so she was not spared the sights she so greatly detested. As she looked across the rippling surface, her name was called in the all too cheery voice of her mother, who was making her way over.

"(Y/N), the guests are here," she said happily, eager for the distraction from her crippling marriage. Her father was always a little more kind when others were around. He replaced his typical cold demeanor with soft eyes and kisses to her mother's cheeks, pleasantries he often refused to offer. The younger girl nodded, a tight lipped smile shot towards the woman as she allowed her mother's soft hand to find a place on the small of her back and lead her towards the main house. A large black SUV was parked in front, the driver stepping out from the front to open the backdoor. Out stepped a woman with auburn hair, the color of a burning log. Her eyes latched onto (Y/N)'s own, making her blink quickly as the dark green irises seemed to burn a hole into her. Her attention was quickly diverted to the other door opening on it's own, followed by a large frame filling her vision.

Broad shoulders pressed against some kind of silk fabric that stretched over obviously toned muscles. The white sleeves were rolled half way up his arms, showing off his tanned forearms, which were decorated by soft blonde hairs and what she assumed to be an expensive watch, looking similar to her father's Rolex. Her eyes travelled up, landing on his face. She quickly realized he was by far the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon. His jaw was hidden under a well manicured beard, and his eyes were left under sunglasses, some designer's name branded harshly onto the side. His hair was swept back, held in place by some sort of product, but lacked the typical shine of a gel. He was stunning and (Y/N) almost didn't register she was being spoken to by her mother.

"Why don't we show the guests to their rooms? You can take Mr.Rogers to the one beside yours and I'll name Ms. Romanoff to the one by my own. We'll meet back in the dining room for dinner in around," her mother lifted her arm, glancing at the watch face before continuing, "half an hour?" Suddenly, she started speaking to the guests. "Welcome welcome! Natasha! it's been so long." The auburn woman smiled, extending her arms to receive a hug. The pair began talking, and (Y/N) figured she was supposed to welcome the man. She took in a deep breath before walking over towards him. He was leaned cooly against the car, large hands holding his phone in one and large bottle of wine in the other.

"Excuse me," (Y/N) piped up, feeling small under the sudden gaze directed at her. "Hello," she continued, fishing a smile onto her features. He returned it, allowing her to talk. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N), it's nice to meet you." She extended her hand, a courtesy she was taught young. He quickly shoved his phone into his front pocket and offered his own hand.

"Steve Rogers," he spoke, his voice a sweet timber. She blinked slow, taking in the feeling of his hand as he shook her own. Once disconnected, he drew up the same hand to push his glasses onto the crown of his head and handed her the bottle of wine, the label telling her it was an icon level red. She was suddenly sad she wasn't able to drink yet, always enjoying the bitter smell of the liquid. She thanked him quickly before furthering their conversation.

"I'm usually familiar with our guests. Can I ask how you know my parents?" She questioned, watching as he moved to grab his suitcase out of the back of the car. Her mother and Natasha, as she recalled, had already made their way inside, leaving the pair alone. As she led him into the house, he began speaking.

"I went to college with your father. That was, wow," he paused at the entryway, shaking his head before continuing, "That was over 20 years ago. Well before you were here." He shot her a smile. She nodded, giving him a small grin back as she handed the bottle of wine to the kitchen maid who greeted her from the entryway.

"I see. My father's been having a lot of old college friends here lately. Your room is upstairs, by the way. Do you need any help with your luggage?" she asked, not sure of where to take the conversation. He shook his head once more, picking up the suitcase by the handle with ease.

"No thank you, sweetheart. I've got it," he spoke easily. "You lead the way, I'll follow you." It was her turn to nod. She moved up the stairs easily, from many years of practice, and led him to the twist of the hall. Her room, the second guest room, and a bathroom were placed obscured from sight, tucked into a lonely corridor at the far left of the house. She had always enjoyed the privacy, her room far enough away from her parents that she could blare music as loud as she wanted and only disturb the cracks of her walls.

Once at the door of the room he would be staying, she twisted the knob to revel the space. her mother took pride in the looks of the guest rooms, insisting that they make the rooms just as nice as their own. A large bed filled the middle of the space, as well as two lounge chairs situated beside a table at the window. A hand carved entertainment unit hosted a television, and the floor was decorated with a large shag rug. All the linens and laces were white, and matched the walls.

"Alright, this is you. I'm right next door if you need anything. I sometimes play music a little loud, so if it ever bothers you, just let me know and I'll turn it down. Your closet is through that door by the bed, and the bathroom is across the hall." She was speaking fast, aware of his breath on her neck as he surveyed the space from behind her.

"Perfect, thank you so much, sweetheart. Show me around the rest of the place later, will ya?" She nodded, looking up at him before removing herself from the room. Questions were pounding her head as she watched him set his suitcase gently onto the duvet.

"Do..do you need anything else from me?" she asked, not wanting to be a rude host out of fear of her mother.

"I don't think so. When is dinner? I'd like to get the airport smell off me before we eat," he said, tugging a bag of toiletries out of the large space.

"Oh, at 7:30. That's when we alway eat," she spoke, moving back so he could exit the room.

"Perfect. I'll meet you all down there then. It was nice meeting you, (Y/N)." He spoke her name gently, held the letters on his tongue in a distinguished way. Not in the typical condescending manner of her father's other friends.

"You too, Mr.Rogers," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. He smiled, glancing over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom.

"Just call me Steve, sweetheart."