#steve rogers happy ending

[crazyunsexycool]

As the dust settled

pairing: Steve rogers x reader.

word count: 9k

summary: you meet Steve rogers while he’s on the run from the government and you offer him and his friends a place to stay. When the blip occurs you lose your own family, your best friend Maggie. When Steve shows up at your door you’re more than happy to let him stay. What happens as the dust settles?

warnings: mentions of injury and blood (non-descriptive), angst, fluff, implied smut, mentions of wanting children/starting a family

A/N: I’ve been writing this little by little. It started out as something to work on if I got stuck on something else and now it’s done! Hope you enjoy!

The first time you helped Captain America it was through his friend. The Falcon, you were sure that was him but with the baseball cap and sunglasses it was hard to tell. And it wasn’t necessarily giving them help, it was more of just giving them something. He came into your bookshop and roamed through the bookshelves. With three books in his hands he steps to the register at the front of the store and places them on the counter. He grabs his wallet and pulls out the small amount of cash he has. It’s not enough. 

“I’ll just leave this one.” He grabs the top one and moves it to the side while giving you a sheepish smile.

“Nonsense, take it. Free of charge.” You bag them up and hold out the bag for him to take.

“I can’t accept that.” 

“Please it’s no big deal, Falcon.” You said. “A good book can help distract you when you’re homesick.” 

“Thank you, but I promise I’ll pay you back soon.” 

“Fine I’ll hold you to it. You’re welcome back anytime. My name is Y/N by the way.” You smile 

“Sam.” he returns the smile before grabbing the bag and disappearing into the small town you lived in. 

After closing your bookshop for the night you walk down two blocks to your friend’s diner. It was one of the few restaurants in town. The same Tuesday night crowd gathered in their chosen seating. Maggie, your best friend and owner, spots you as you walk in. She nods over to your favorite booth, ever since you told you it was your favorite sitting area she put a little reserved sign on it for you. 

“Hey, the usual?” She asks from the counter. You nod and she disappears to put your order in. 

After meeting in college and realizing you were roommates you bonded as if you were sisters. You remember when she first told you she was moving into the same town you lived in. It was the best news you’d ever heard after going your own way once you were done with college. Maggie had bought this place that was crumbling around you and she was hellbent on transforming it into a diner. You spent weeks helping her plan and pick out the color schemes and it was amazing. The tiles were pink and white and those colors could be found everywhere from the seats to decoration on the walls and even the neon signs. Little details of black and silver broke up the lighter colors but overall the place was visually pleasing and it got a lot of business because of it. 

Maggie plops down in the booth seat across from you and it’s obvious she has something to tell you. She leans forward causing you to do the same. 

“You will never believe what happened.” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you remember that news report a few weeks back about Captain America and Iron man fighting at the airport?” 

“Yeah.” You already knew what she was going to say. 

“Well you know that a few of them are on the run, and the feds or whoever is looking for them?”

“Maggie spit it out already.” 

“The Black Widow was in here earlier.” She beamed. “I helped fugitives! Can you believe that? This is the most exciting thing I think I’ve ever done.” 

You smile at her and before she can sit up right you lean in again and she mirrors your action. 

“I helped Falcon.” 

Maggie squeals in delight and she grabs your hand over the table. 

“Look at us being rebels.” 

You laugh and shake your head.

“God, this town is so boring that helping fugitives is the most exciting thing we’ll ever do.” 

“Yeah I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again we have to leave PA,”  Maggie sighs. “Let me go get your order.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second time you helped Captain America had been weeks after meeting Sam Wilson at your bookshop. You had been coming back home after a day of going to estate sales looking for first edition books and things like that for the store. It was getting dark but as you drove on the lonely road you noticed a broken down car on the side, normally you kept driving but you recognized the people immediately. Slowing down you roll the passenger’s side window down. 

“Do you need some help?” You asked although the obvious answer was yes you knew they weren’t going to trust you. 

“No, we're fine, thank you.” You heard from the other side of the broken down car. They were trying to keep their faces hidden. 

“Well it seems to me like you’re just sitting ducks out here. I promise you can trust me. I even have somewhere you can stay the night.” 

Cerulean eyes meet yours over the roof of the car. He was thinking about what the next move would be. Reluctantly he steps out from behind the car and walks towards your open window and lowers himself to be able to look at you better.

“Sam knows me if it makes you feel any better. Name’s Y/N I own the bookshop in town.” Steve doesn’t say anything, instead he heads back to the car. 

You can hear the whispered conversation before all three make their way to your car. All the passenger doors open and they silently get into your car. Looking over your shoulder you see a bruised up black widow and a slightly bleeding Sam. 

“Ok, let’s get you home so you can get cleaned up.” 

The drive home was silent, which was fine by you. It took another 30 minutes before you got to your long dirt driveway. That was the good thing about small town living, privacy. All the houses were spread out. There was at least a two mile distance from your house to your neighbors in either direction. You hopped out the car and unlocked the gate before sliding it off to the side before getting in your car and repeating the process to close the gate. As you drive further into the property your home appears before you. 

It was your childhood home and it was left to you by your father after he passed as well as the shop. At first you had thought of selling it but changed your mind when you thought of not having to pay a mortgage. The farmhouse was still in great condition and you knew you would never find a house with a wraparound porch at a decent price. So you stayed and you were as grateful as ever in the moment that you had. 

“It’s a beautiful home.” Those were the first words Captain America ever spoke to you. They were quiet but sincere.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Please, it’s just Steve. I’m not Captain America anymore.” 

“Ok just Steve, why don’t we head inside and you can each pick a room and get settled.”  He nods and lets you lead. 

“I’m Nat by the way, thank you for letting us stay.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

You walk up the few steps of your porch and with your keys you open the front door. Walking into your home you turn on the lights to reveal a cozy and inviting living room. With a wave of your hand you get your guests to follow you. 

“The kitchen is there.” You point down the small hallway. “You are more than welcome to help yourselves to whatever you like. But I’ll make dinner in a few minutes.” You turn and head up the stairs with them following close behind you. “That’s my room over there but you’re welcome to choose any other ones. Here is the linen closet.” You open the small door and begin to grab towels and hand them to your guests. “You can just grab more if you want and there is a first aid kit in this bathroom and the one downstairs if you need both.” 

“Thank you Y/N.” Sam spoke up as he grabbed the towels you offered. All three of them stood there slightly awkward and unsure of the situation.

“No problem, just get cleaned up and take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

About 45 minutes later dinner was almost done, you’d settle on making chili. Thinking something nice and warm would be just what they needed and you made almost twice what you normally did because you weren’t sure when the last time they had a proper meal was. The stairs creaked with the weight of your guests and signaled that they were heading this way. The table was set with all kinds of toppings and bread. All you needed to do was take the bowls of food over. 

“Here I can take those.” Steve grabbed two of the bowls and headed towards the table while you grabbed the last two. “Thank you again, for all of this.”

“It’s no problem really. I like to help if I can.” 

The four of you sat quietly only a hum of approval over the food or a groan of satisfaction was heard. They asked for seconds and you happily dished out more. After a few awkward silences, conversation started to flow easily. They mostly focused on asking you questions. About the house or your family and the bookstore. You understood why and you didn’t push to know more about them if they didn’t want to share. After another back and forth about who would do the dishes you convinced them to go get some sleep. Well you convinced Nat and Sam, Steve was stubborn and helped you clean up. 

“You ok over there?”

“If I’m being honest I’m confused as to why you would help us. You could get in a lot of trouble for this.” He finally said as he handed you a glass to dry off. 

“You went against half of your team, why did you do it?”

“It’s complicated but I did what I thought was right. Those accords were only going to cause more harm than good and I was protecting a friend.” 

“Hhmm. Well Steve I’m doing what I think is right too. They published the accords and I read through them.”

“Yeah, what did you think?” He turned to look at you, his hip leaning against the sink and his arms crossed over his chest. Your brain short circuited as you watched the muscles in his arm flex. Blinking quickly you look up at him and answer.

“The way I see it is they would end up using the Avengers in political power plays and the ones that would end up suffering are the people not the governments. I mean didn’t the government want to nuke New York during the alien attack? If Ironman hadn’t diverted that bomb you wouldn’t even be standing here right now. Yeah there was damage and casualties but those numbers were less than losing all of New York City.” 

“Not everyone sees it that way.”

“Well they’re idiots. You however have a friend here. If you ever need to lay low you’re always welcome, you all are.” 

He smiled for the first time, it was small and disappeared as quickly as it came but he smiled. 

“We couldn’t possibly put you at risk.” 

You patted his shoulder as you walked by him. “Well that's the thing Steve, I’m a big girl I’ll deal with the consequences of my own actions.” 

He smiles and turns to watch you. 

“Now, how about ice cream on the porch so we can look at the stars? I promise we don't even have to talk.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

It was quiet at first but sure enough the conversation started up. It was mostly random topics of things he liked from the present time and things he missed from the past. He answered any question you had about the 40s. Then the conversation turned into things you both wanted to try. He told you about Peggy. Steve said yes when you asked if he had the chance to go back to the 40s and stay would he take it. 

That night he said they’d leave by morning. They stayed four days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three months since you’d seen Steve, Nat and Sam. Every once in a while there would be some news report that mentioned a possible sighting of the former captain but it was nothing substantial. Maggie liked to go on tangents and make up scenarios in which they would come back to town. You didn’t have the heart to tell her they had stayed with you a few months back but you also didn’t want to put her in a compromised position in case someone came around snooping. 

“I bet they’re on a remote beach somewhere. Getting nice and tan while we’re here getting rain and snow and sick.” 

“No one is sick Mags.” 

“You’re getting sick. I can hear it.” She raised her brows as if expecting you to challenge her. 

“Oh, whatever. I have to head back to the shop.” 

“I’ll bring you some soup at home later in the week.” She shouts as you leave the diner. You can see the smug grin on her face through the large windows. 

Maggie had been right and she gloated about it over FaceTime. You hadn’t even made it to Friday when the flu wiped you out. Maggie assured you that she would put a sign up at your store and would be by on Friday with everything she needed to leave some meals prepped for the weekend. Which would have been fine except you ended up with three unexpected guests. 

They were beaten, bloodied, bruised and extremely apologetic for showing up once they realized how sick you were. You dismissed their concern and waved them in as if you’d been friends all your lives. Nat tried to get you back into bed but you assured her you wanted to stay in the living room. She left to shower after failing to get you to rest. Next was Steve, he used what you assumed was his Captain voice and you scowled at him. 

“You’re not the boss. It’s my house and I do what I want.” You said before coughing.

“You know you would sound meaner if you weren’t so stuffed up” Steve kneeled in front of  you. “Come on sweetheart let me help you to your room and I’ll bring you some soup.” 

Your eyes go wide as you remember that Maggie was going to stop by. And as if on queue your front door opens, revealing Maggie and a bunch of groceries. Her eyes narrow as she looks at the scene before her and then they widen at the realization.

“What the fuck?!?!”

“Who is this?” Both her and Steve say at the same time, although Steve tensed up and got into a defensive position. 

“It’s alright this is my best friend Maggie, Mags this is Steve. Sam and Nat are currently upstairs too.” You cough some more. “I trust her with my life, you can trust her too.” 

Steve looks from you to Maggie and relaxes but only slightly. Ever the gentleman he grabs everything in Maggie’s hands and silently heads to the kitchen. 

“What the actual fuck, Y/N. What are they doing here? You could get in so much trouble for harboring a fugitive.” She whisper yells as she sits next to you.

“I am helping someone that needs it. And just so we’re clear this is the second time they stay here.”

Maggie looks slightly hurt by the confession but your head hurts too much and you can barely breath to notice. 

“Listen I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to risk you getting in trouble with me.”

“Well someone would have had to post your bail right?” She says after thinking over the situation. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well let’s get you up to bed, you need rest.” 

“No, they just got here and you did too. I can’t just be in bed while I have guests.” 

“We’ve been trying to get her up to her room for a while.” Nat’s voice comes from the stairs as she struggles to walk down them. 

Maggie hurries to her side and helps her down, settling Nat on a couch. Steve walks back into the living room, making eye contact with Nat, a silent conversation happening between them.   

“Ok, I don’t care if you have guests here, you are sick and need the rest.” 

“Mags-“ 

“If I have to drag you…” she says while pointing at you. Your eyes widen and you stand, mumbling under your breath the whole time.

“How did you manage that?” Steve asks, slightly impressed.

“We were roommates in college, she knows what I’m capable of.” Maggie gives them a mischievous smile. “Anyways, I came to make her some soup and stuff since she’s sick. I’ll add in extra for the three of you and I’ll come back with extra supplies tomorrow since there’s a big storm rolling in. All I ask is that you take care of her, please.” She looks at both Nat and Steve. 

“Of course, you don’t have to worry. It’s the least we can do.” 

“All right. Now if you need anything specific from the store make me a list and I’ll get it for you.” With that Maggie disappears into the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~

A few hours had passed and you felt something cool hit your forehead. You let out a content sigh as you open your eyes finding concerned blue ones staring back at you. 

“Your fever was getting pretty high.” Steve says, explaining why he’s in your room. “Maggie is gone for the night but she said she’d stop by tomorrow.” 

“Water.” Is all you say in response and he grabs the cup on your nightstand and moves to hold a straw to your lips. Once you drink as much as you can Steve places the cup back. “Thanks.”

“Least I can do.”

Steve stays close by for the rest of the night. He helps you sit up while Sam brings up dinner and then practically feeds you himself. You voice your concern of him getting sick because of you he assures you he can’t get sick. 

“I missed you.” You admit in a whisper. He wasn’t sure if you’d meant it or if it was some weird fever induced confession. “Ice cream on the porch isn’t the same without you now.” 

Steve can’t help but smile fondly as he remembers the nights you mentioned. It was easy conversations and you always checked in with him. Called him out on his bullshit when he said he was fine. Steve ended up opening up more to you and you never judged him or tried to invalidate his feelings. He would never admit it to anyone but he had been anxiously waiting for the opportunity to come back to see you. 

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You give him a sleepy smile as the medicine he had given you finally does its job. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about six months since you’d seen your newest friends. Every once in a while Maggie would walk over from her diner and you would search through news articles and videos online to see if you could at least catch a glimpse of them. No matter how many times you would see that Steve and the others were still fighting you were always left anxiously waiting for their return. You always worried that they weren’t resting enough or they were hurt more than what you could see in the videos but there wasn’t much you could do. It’s not like you had a way of contacting them to make sure they were ok. 

So you did what you always did since they left the first, you wait. But the wait didn't last for much longer. That night you had trouble getting to sleep so you heard the footsteps on your porch. You grabbed the bat you kept by your bed and went downstairs quietly, hoping that it was just your imagination. As you step on to the first floor you see a figure opening your door and without much thought you swing only to have your intruder stop the bat midair.

“Y/N?” You breathe a sigh of relief when you recognize Steve’s voice.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” You ask as you let go of the bat and more to turn on a lamp. A gasp escapes you when you turn to look at a beaten and bruised Steve who is holding his side. “What the hell happened to you?” 

“I’m ok really, just a little scraped up.” 

“A little? You look like shit. Which is saying a lot because you’re usually really…” you stop yourself before you say anything embarrassing. 

“I’m usually what?” 

“Nothing. Where are Sam and Nat?” You ask looking past him.

“There were some missions that they needed to finish. They dropped me off and said that they’d pick me up once they were done. Is that ok?” 

“Of course. Come on, I'll get the first aid kit and then I’ll draw you a bath.” 

“I don’t need the kit, this will heal itself in a few hours.” He says as he closes and locks the door. 

“A bath then?” 

“Ok.” He gives you a tired smile that doesn’t completely reach his eyes before he follows you upstairs. 

“I’ll fill up the tub in my bathroom, it’s bigger. Just come in when you’re ready.” 

As the warm water fills up the tub you add some epsom salt and oils to help Steve relax as much as possible. There was something different about him tonight. He seemed a bit more withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts. You wanted to help him but what could you say to make him feel better? 

A soft knock on the doorframe pulls your attention and you look up to see Steve standing there and you offer him a small smile. His hair was longer, the dark circles under his eyes were darker. He was letting his beard grow out and you had to admit he looked hot. 

“I’ll just get out of your way, take all the time you want. Are you hungry?” Steve just shakes his head as he walks further into the bathroom. He gives you a small thank you as you walk out and close the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve walks out of the bathroom after a while expecting to find you in bed but you aren’t there. Instead he hears some shuffling downstairs and he doesn’t waste time in going to find you. He finds you in the living room wrapped up in a blanket with a book in your hand. At the sound of him on the last step you look up, offering a warm smile. His smile is what Nat referred to it as. She was the one that brought it up. Of course you were welcoming to all of them but Nat had pointed out how much you would go out of your way for Steve, even if you didn’t realize you were doing it.

“Hey, I thought you’d go straight to bed.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried.” 

You pat the empty space beside you and he sits. A small grunt leaving his lips as he does. Steve leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. You can’t help but lay a hand gently on his back.

“Want to talk about it?” You ask quietly.

“I’m just so tired.” 

Is all he tells you and you know he means more than physically. You’d been able to see it too, his eyes didn’t shine as bright and his smile felt a bit forced. Steve didn’t protest or pull away when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and pulled him towards you. It was the opposite in fact. He was all too eager to be close to you and he sighed as his head fell on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while, the only movement came from your playing with his hair. 

“I like the beard.” You said after a while causing Steve to laugh. “Come on, let's get some sleep.” You grab his hand and you lead him to your room. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, are you ok with it?” 

He nods and you walk into your room. You both settle in bed and Steve doesn’t waste any time and pulls you into his chest. 

“Goodnight sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight hun.” 

*****

When morning came Steve was still in bed and his arms were still wrapped around you. The thought that sharing a bed with the super soldier was too intimate a gesture hadn’t even crossed your mind. In fact you felt completely comfortable in his arms. The warmth that radiated off of him was enough to lull you back to sleep but you had to go into town and open your store for the day. When you tried to pull away Steve tightened the hold he had on you. 

“Good morning Steve.” 

“Good morning sweetheart.” 

You tried to get out of his hold again but he pulled you back in once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I have to go to work, Steve.” You said as you looked up at him. 

“Just five more minutes.” 

You chuckled as Steve hid his face in the  crook of your neck. Suddenly his lips are pressed against your neck. It was a quick barely there kiss but you felt it anyway and you turned to look up at him. Your heart beat a bit faster and your stomach flipped happily.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Steve started to pull away, embarrassed that he lost himself in the fantasy of sharing your bed. “That shouldn’t have-“ 

You cut him off by crashing your lips into his. Needless to say your bookshop opened at noon that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You got one glorious week with Steve. It was uninterrupted and consisted of you working all day then spending all night in bed with Steve. But all good things have to come to an end and it was sooner than you’d hoped when Sam and Nat showed up. Steve had already been outside waiting for them by the time you went to see where he disappeared to. He stood with his back to the house but he was slightly slouched over and his hands on his hips. Nat and Sam looked serious so it couldn’t be good news. When he turned around he found you leaning against one of the pillars of the porch, arms crossed over your chest and a worried expression on your face.

“How bad is it?” You ask once he gets closer.

“Really bad, I have to go.”

“Are they at least staying for the night?” 

He shakes his head. “We have to leave right away, I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job.” You cup his cheek and tilt his head so that he’s looking at you. 

“I’m gonna go pack.” He kisses your cheek before passing by you. You wave Sam and Nat in so they could at least rest a few minutes. 

Steve walks down the stairs in his worn out stealth suit. He looks so good in it you just want to rip it off of him. Nat and Sam say their goodbyes and leave you alone with Steve. 

“I’m sorry I have to go like this.” Steve says as he places his hands on your hips.

“It’s ok honey. I understand it’s your job. Just come back to me ok?”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve leans down until his lips meet yours. His grip on your hips tighten, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he might not make it back. That there is a good chance this fight will be his last. Steve pushes those thoughts away and instead focuses on how soft your lips are and the way your body fits against his perfectly. When Steve pulls back he rests his forehead against yours. “Stay safe ok, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Ok.”

He gave you one last kiss and then he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been in your store when the news started to spread. Some weird looking ship showed up over New York. There were nonstop videos and pictures of a fight between Ironman, some other heroes you guess and some aliens. You decided to close the store and head over to Maggie’s diner, too worried that Steve might be involved in this. The hours passed and still nothing new. You sat in your regular booth with Maggie across from you as you both watched the news reports on the tv she had set up. 

“Hey,” Maggie reached out and grabbed your hand to try and comfort you. “Everything is going to be ok. They’ve fought aliens before. Steve will be back before you know it.”

“You’re right, and maybe he isn’t even there.” You nod as you turn your head to watch the tv again. Everyone in the small town you lived in had practically stopped everything to watch what was going on. 

“Y/N…” Maggie called out. You turn quickly to look at her. The hand you had been holding was disappearing right before your eyes.

“Maggie? Oh my god Maggie.” You reach for her. “What do I do? How do I stop this? Someone please help!” You say between sobs, unsure about what’s going on as she disappears before you. 

The last thing you saw was the fear in her eyes and then she was gone. You turn to see if the others had witnessed what you did but they were just as confused as you when others in the diner disappeared. Cries rang out on the street as you pushed the door open. There were car crashes all along the street. Everyone looked at each other hoping someone would have an answer. 

But the answer didn’t come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been weeks, the world as a whole was grieving the loss of loved ones. Life in your small town changed drastically. There had been children and elderly people that needed loved ones to take care of them left to fend for themselves. There were jobs that needed to be filled and farms that needed to be worked. It was at moments like this that you were grateful for living in a small town. Everyone rallied around each other and provided a helping hand. 

The first thing you did was take over Maggie’s diner. Fortunately her main cook hadn’t disappeared and he had stepped up to help. Following the first few days of the disappearances you focused on getting warm meals out to people that had been left behind that couldn’t fend for themselves and those that had stepped up to help. 

The distraction during the day was good, you were too busy to think about the people missing in your life. But at night those thoughts crept in like the darkness that surrounded you. Maggie was always first, the feeling of her hand turning to nothing, the look on her face as she tried to hold on replayed constantly. You wondered if Nat and Sam were ok. Most importantly you worried about Steve, had he disappeared too? Your relationship was new, if you would even call it that, but you worried just the same. Many times during the night you thought you’d hear steps on the porch and you’d rush down hoping to find him standing in the doorway. The disappointment was the same every single time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't know what to do with yourself so you pushed yourself to the limit. It was to the point that people began to drive you home because they were afraid you’d fall asleep at the wheel. With a wave to the person that drove you home you walked through the gate, not noticing that it had been opened. Your tired feet carried you toward your home. Fortunately you were conscious enough to notice an unfamiliar car parked next to you. Then it was the sound of footsteps on your porch. Your heart slammed violently against your ribcage. It had been all over the news how people were breaking into homes and taking what they wanted. They went as far as taking advantage of anyone they found inside if they were twisted enough. 

“Y/N?” A voice rang out, familiar and comforting.

It caused tears to break free of their prison and escape down your cheeks. Relief washed over you as you heard Steve calling out for you again. 

“Steve!” Your tired feet began to move. Running up to your home to find the man you had missed and cried for standing on your porch. 

He sprinted down the path calling out your name and he caught you when you jumped into his arms. Your kiss was more than welcomed. It was filled with joy and heartbreak, relief and guilt. It was a balm to calm the ache you both had felt at the thought of losing each other. Steve’s forehead rested against yours as your breaths mixed with one another’s. 

“I thought I lost you.” You whisper between a stuttered breath. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. We were trying to fix it.” 

His eyes held nothing but guilt at the thought of his failure. If his own pain wasn’t enough he had caused yours as well. 

“How is everything here?” He asked as he pulled away. Steve’s eyes left yours as he looked out toward the dirt path that connected the main road to your house.

“Maggie’s gone.”  You hiccuped.

Steve pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. You welcomed the warmth you’d missed so much. 

“But I’m happy you’re ok, I was so worried.”

“Me too sweetheart.” Steve replies as he pulls away from you. He clears his throat. “I should get going.” 

“What? Where are you going? You can’t leave, you just got here.” 

“I just thought you’d want me gone. It is my fault Maggie’s gone, why would you want me around?” 

“Are you kidding me? I need you, I can’t lose you too.” You panicked. Steve wiped away your tears.

“I’ll stay, God I want nothing more than to stay. For however long you want me to.” 

His lips are on yours again. Desperate kisses bathed in tears of relief at the thought of finally having someone. You lead him to your home and you sit in the living room. Steve tells you everything that happens. You cry again when he tells you that Sam and his friend Bucky were gone too. Nat had stepped into the leadership role for the avengers and that he was done. No more missions or leaving in the middle of the night for him.

He was home.

~~~~~~~~~~

1 year later

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.” Steve whispered in your ear as he pulled his hands away from your eyes. 

“Stevie, this is amazing.” 

There were blankets and pillows laid out in the middle of your backyard. There was a picnic basket, a small speaker already playing music and a small lantern to light up the otherwise dark area.

You turn and wrap your arms around his waist as you push yourself up to kiss him. 

“Thank you, honey. I love it.”  

“You’re welcome, I just wanted to do something for my best girl.” He smiles down at you as he guides you to the blankets.

After sharing everything Steve had prepared you and Steve laid back. He pulled you close and you cuddled into his side. Your head rested against his chest and your arm around his waist. You both admired the stars as music played softly. Steve’s hand moved absentmindedly up and down your arm, sighing contently.

“I love you, Y/N. I started falling since the night we met. I know I should have said it sooner. And this last year with you has been amazing. Even with everyone we lost you still bring so much happiness into my life that I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I love you too. I’m glad I stopped by the side of the road that day. If you weren’t here I think I’d go crazy. You make me so happy.” You smile up at him before he shifts and hovers over you. Steve’s lips meet yours. 

Your hands pull at his shirt until it’s over his head. His hands follow the dips and curves of your body as he shows just how much he loves you. And you happily show him just as much love.

~~~~~~~~~~

2 years later.

“Where are you going with that?” You asked confused as you watched Steve pick up the couch with ease to move it.

“You said you wanted to repaint the living room. I’m gonna paint it.” 

“You’ll do that for me?” 

Steve walked back into the main room and hugged you from behind. “I’d do anything for my best girl.” He kissed your shoulder. “Now I’m going to clean the walls first and put on a base coat but you have to pick the color you want.”

 He handed you the paint samples you had kept in your notebook full of repairs you wanted to complete for the house.

“Once I’m done with this, we’re going to check off everything on that list.” 

You couldn’t contain your smile as you looked down at the samples, completely missing the look of pure love Steve sent your way. 

“I love you Steve. I can’t believe you’d do this for me.” 

“Well believe it.”  He said before leaning down and giving you a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 years later.

“Attack!” You yelled. 

The kids of the community all started throwing water balloons at Steve and the few other avengers that had joined you for the 4th of July. With everything that he’d done for them the town wanted to celebrate him. Although he had denied the need for a party you were able to make him see they needed it just as much as he did. 

So Steve agreed and now he, Rocket, Nat, and Rhodey were fighting back with their own water guns and balloons. The kids and even some adults were having the time of their lives. It was all you could ask for.

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos you hadn’t noticed when Steve crossed over to your side of the fight and he grabbed you by the waist. He pulled you back with him before stopping the fight.

“I have your leader!” He exclaimed. “Surrender and I shall set her free.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s lying.” You played along. “Fight for our freedom, kids.” 

“Free her and I shall have mercy on you!” A little kid with missing teeth in the front yelled and the water balloons started flying again. 

You laughed at the look of determination on little Julian’s face. It was good to feel this carefree after everything that had happened. 

By the time nightfall came and the fireworks were done you all headed home. You were getting water in the kitchen when Nat walked in. She gave you a tired smile as she sat on the counter. 

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly.” She says after a minute.

“For what?” 

“For everything, but especially for Steve. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy or at peace. Even before all of this happened, there was always this quiet sadness that he carried with him. But I don’t see that anymore and it’s because of you. I can see the way you look at each other, this isn’t some fling or anything.”

“I haven’t done much, just love him. And I’d be lost without him by my side too.” You smile sheepishly at her.

“You’ve done more than you know.  Both of you deserve to be loved and I’m happy you found that with each other.” She jumps down from the counter and wraps you in a hug. “Now if you ever hurt him-“ she says as she pulls back. 

“Yeah I know you’ll hurt me. You don’t have to give me your whole ‘I’m a scary spy’ act.” You chuckle at her glare. “Now go get some rest, you deserve it.” 

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Nat.” 

When you get to bed you’re still smiling.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, today was fun. I love you Steve.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 years later

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” Steve asked as he was perched on a ladder. 

You had convinced him to paint a mural over the kids section in the book shop. So far it had a princess, a prince, a knight and an outline of a dragon. 

“Maybe.” Your heartbeat picked up. This was not a conversation you thought you’d have today.

“Just maybe?” 

“Well if it was with the right person, yes. Why what about you?” 

“I stopped thinking about having a family when I woke up from the ice and I was told everyone I knew was gone. But now, I don’t know, I guess I’ve been thinking about it again.” He looked at you with an innocent kind of hopefulness. 

“I’m open to the idea. I always thought that if I ever had kids I’d have two.” 

“I always wanted 5.” 

“I am not so open to the idea anymore.” You said as he got down from the ladder. Steve threw his head back laughing. 

“You know what we should do?” He asks as he disappears to the front of the store and flips the sign to close and locks the door.

“No, what should we do?” 

“Practice.” 

You gasp when he grabs you by the waist and pins you against the wall. Steve’s lips are on yours and just as quickly they’re on your neck and chest. 

The conversation was put away for the moment but if there was ever a man you would want to have kids with it was definitely Steve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 years later.

Steve took over the bookshop while you worked at Maggie's diner. There were still nights when either of you would wake up haunted by the loss of your friends. The last five years had been bittersweet. You shared happiness and sorrow, helped the community get back on its feet and grieved your lost loved ones. Life was never the same but you found love and happiness where you could. 

Steve ran a grief counseling group both in town and up in New York. You had opened your home to some of the Avengers that would drop by and needed a day or two to rest. 

Rocket was your favorite.

Currently you were putting together a bag of meals you had frozen for Steve to take with him. He picked up his wallet, backpack and keys and turned when he heard your footsteps getting closer. 

“Don’t forget these.” You push the bag into his hands.

“Thanks, I know Nat will appreciate them.” 

“Stay safe and you come back to me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles sweetly at you before giving you a breath stealing kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“I’m counting on it. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Steve says before walking out of your shared home and getting into his car.

******

You were in the book shop stocking the shelves when your phone started ringing. Pulling it out of the back pocket of your jeans you smile when you see Steve’s picture pop up.

“Hi love, how’s Nat?”

“Hey Y/N.” 

You perked up at the fact that he called you by your first name.

“I need to tell you something serious but I don’t want to get your hopes up.” 

“Steve, what's going on?” 

“Nat and I, we think we can bring everyone back.”

“What?” You gasp, your hand in your chest as you will your heart to stop beating frantically.

“There is a small chance that we can bring everyone that disappeared back. I’m going to stay a few days because there’s a lot to be done if we want this to work. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“O-ok, Steve, please whatever this plan is, promise me you’ll be careful. And no matter the outcome you’ll come back to me.”

“Yes ma’am, I love you sweetheart.” 

“I love you too.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time had decided to stop. The clocks stopped ticking or at least that’s what it felt like. You had received one last text from Steve saying the plan was set in motion but nothing else. He hadn’t explained how they would bring everyone back just that the possibility was higher than before. Your mind was filled with questions as to how the remaining avengers were going to pull something like this off but Steve asked you to trust him. So you kept yourself busy. 

“Order up.” 

You were brought out of your thoughts with the shout. The cook slid a plate of food through the window and you smiled as you grabbed it. After placing the order on the tray you walked around to deliver it. 

“Enjoy your meal.” You said before turning around. 

The tray you had been carrying fell from your hands as your eyes fell on the table that Maggie had reserved for you years ago. She was sitting where she had been when she disappeared. 

“Maggie?” You say in disbelief. 

Maggie's head snaps in your direction and she frowns in confusion. She gets up and walks towards you when she sees you crying and unmoving.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” 

“You-you’ve been…” you stutter over the words as you pull her in for a tight hug. “You’ve been gone. Oh my god I can’t believe it worked.” You pull back and look around the diner and then outside to see the people that had disappeared standing in the same place from five years ago. 

“What is going on?” Maggie asks again.

“I’m sorry Mags. I’ll explain everything.”  You clear your throat. “What is the last thing you remember?” 

“We were sitting at your regular table, we were talking about Steve. Then you were calling out my name and now you’re  standing on the other side of the diner, with an apron on.” 

“Ok, I know this is going to sound absolutely crazy but Mags you’ve been gone for five years.” 

Maggie’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. She looks around to see people she didn’t recognize in the diner. The others that had reappeared looked around trying to find the person they came in with. Some of them had heard part of your conversation and were asking questions which you were more than happy to answer. 

**********

Total chaos had ensued in your town. The people that had been dusted all finding out about the five years they’ve missed. People looking for their families or finding strangers living in their houses. Even worse, realizing they had no one left.

You sat with Maggie at your table. She was silent as she sipped her tea. You had explained everything that happened in the last five years.  

“So, you took care of my diner for me?” 

“Of course, I couldn’t let someone else have it. Now I didn’t know what to do with your place so I put it up for rent and there are people living there. But I have all your things in a storage facility.” You said as you grabbed her hand. “It’s still under my name and I tried to keep it but I just couldn’t. We can figure out what to do about it later. Their contract is up in a few months anyway so you can always stay here.” 

“This is crazy. It seems unreal to be honest. I mean five whole years just gone.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“For right now you know this is your home too. Tomorrow we start dealing with whatever the next steps are.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed but you hadn’t heard from Steve and that worried you. You kept checking your phone and even calling but he never answered. Worry started to consume you. It was a very well known fact that Steve was the kind of person to sacrifice himself for others. What if that’s what he did to bring everyone back? 

“He’ll be back soon I’m sure of it.” Maggie said from behind the counter of her diner. She could always read you like a book. 

“What if something happened to him?” 

“You said that some of the other avengers would stay at your place every once in a while right?” You nod. “Then why the hell wouldn’t they have the common decency to come tell you if something was wrong?” 

“I don’t know, they don’t know how to tell me?”

“I just think there’s a lot going on, he might be needed somewhere else. Trust me, from everything you’ve told me that man is head over heels in love with you. He’ll be back soon.”

“I hope so.” 

*********

The bed dipped slightly and you opened your eyes slightly to look at the alarm. It was way too early to be awake.

“Are you ok Mags?” 

“I’m pretty sure she’s still asleep, sweetheart.” Steve moved some hair out of your face as he answered. You sat up and threw your arms around him. 

“You have no idea how worried I’ve been. I kept imagining the worst things.” 

“I’m sorry, I was finishing up a mission and everything was a mess and we ha-“

You cut him off with a kiss. The last few days had been a rollercoaster of emotions and you were just happy that you had him back.

“Are you coming to bed?” 

“First there’s someone I want you to meet.” 

“Right now?” You look down at your pajamas.

“Yes, he won’t care what you look like.” Steve tugged you out of bed and led you downstairs. 

In the living room you saw his bag and shield as well as the person he wanted you to meet. He turned at the sounds of your footsteps. And even with long hair and a beard you recognized Steve’s best friend anywhere.

“Buck, this is my girl, Y/N. Y/N, this is Bucky, my best friend.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Steve has told me so much about you.” You offer him your hand and you see the hesitation for just a moment.

“It’s nice to meet you too. This punk talked about so much I started to think he’d lost his mind and made you up.” 

You smiled and he returned it. And just like that the tension in his shoulders left. 

“I thought it’d be ok if he stayed here for a while. Just while things settled down.” Steve says quietly from behind you. 

“You thought? Of course he can stay.” 

You grabbed Bucky’s hands and started leading him around the house. He tensed a bit at the sudden movement but mostly found your rambling amusing. You stop at the bottom of the stairs. 

“So the first room to the left of the stairs is already taken. My best friend Maggie is also staying with us.”

“What is this, the best friend bed and breakfast?” Bucky joked.

“Well it wouldn’t be if you had won the first time around.” 

“Ouch,” Bucky smiles down at you. “You’re a little shit aren’t you?”

“I can be. Now go, get some rest, you deserve it.” 

Bucky said his goodnight and disappeared up the stairs. Leaving you and Steve alone in the living room.

“I like him.”

“Good, I’m glad. He needs a place where he can feel safe.” 

You walk toward Steve and wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Then I hope we can give him that. Ice cream on the porch?” 

“It’s like 2 in the morning.” 

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “Hot chocolate on the porch.” 

He smiles and gives you a quick kiss.

“I’d like that.”

*******

Steve explained absolutely everything. From Scott showing up when they thought he had disappeared too and him returning the stones to the past.

“Wow. Wait, so where are Nat and Sam?” 

“Sam went back to see his family and Nat went to find her sister.” Steve answers as he pulls you into him but you sit up straight. 

You’re sitting together on the porch swing he made for you. It was big enough for both of you to sit or lay down comfortably. It had a few pillows and fairy lights wrapped around the support beams. The low glow of the lights cast just enough so that you could see perfectly into his eyes.

“So you traveled through time and put the stones back. Why didn’t you stay? That first night we talked, you said if you could go back you would.”

“How could I leave my best girl?” He put a finger under your chin and tipped your head up so you would look at him. “I am in love with you and the whole time I was returning the stones the only thing that I could think of was getting back to you.” He kissed you softly. “Peggy lived her life and it’s time that I start living mine. There’s no one else I’d rather be with than you.”

“Good, because I’m very much in love with you too. And there’s no one else I’d rather be with either.” 

You smile at each other before you lean into him. Sighing happily you rest your head against his chest. 

“Also I have a new list of things that need to be fixed around the house.” 

Steve laughs before picking you up and carrying you upstairs to your shared bedroom. He changes quickly and settles in bed behind you. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you couldn’t wait to see what was next. But if the last five years were anything to go off of you’d have nothing to worry about.

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[meidui]

STEVE ROGERS in AVENGERS: ENDGAME (2019)

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

‘Til The End of The Line

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, shooting and getting hurt

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

I am so sorry for being gone (school’s been killing me)

I appreciate every feedback! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

“Ready to kick some ass, kiddo?” Steve’s voice was calm, almost soothing, but you could hear the adrenaline beneath his words as the two of you adjusted your parachutes. The jet engines hummed around you, a subtle reminder of the mission ahead.

You grinned, giving your suit one last check and tightening your grip on the gun in your hand. “Yeah, I’m gonna beat the shit out of them.”

Steve smiled, not bothering to correct your language. With him, you were always an exception.

Moments later, the wind was whipping against your face as you both jumped from the jet, splitting off into the night sky. Steve took the left wing—the more dangerous side—leaving you the right. Tony had assured you it was safer, but as you slid through the narrow gap in the door, the freezing cold hit you like a wall. The air inside was frigid, bitterly reminding you of Bucky’s stories about the winters he hated so much.

“As far as I can see, it’s clear here. How’s the situation there?” Steve’s voice crackled through the comms, full of concern. You knew he cared for you deeply, saw you as the daughter he never had, and would have taken a bullet to ensure your safety.

“It’s clear here too, Cap,” you replied, trying to ease his worry.

“Let’s stick to the plan: I’ll draw out the agents while you head straight to the operations room and grab their file IV data.”

“Copy that. Be safe, Cap—and I mean it. If you need help, just call me.”

“I will, kiddo. Be safe yourself. And promise to call me if you need anything.”

“I promise. Let’s fucking go.”

You raced through the deserted corridors of the right wing, a dagger in one hand and a fully loaded gun tucked into your suit for emergencies. The cold air bit at your skin, the silence amplifying every footstep. Suddenly, a loud, thunderous noise echoed behind you. Instinctively, you thought it was Steve, but it wasn’t. The sound was coming from your side of the building.

Before you could react, you were ambushed by over twenty armed agents.

On the other side of the wing, Steve was facing his own battle. He tossed a grenade down a hallway, expecting a swarm of enemies, but only three agents rushed at him. Something was wrong. There should have been more.

“Shit,” you hissed into the comms, struggling against the overwhelming odds. Steve heard the panic in your voice, but he couldn’t respond—one of the agents had him in a chokehold. His grip tightened on the comms as he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, followed by a loud thud that made his blood run cold.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Steve managed to gasp out, but all he got in return was a pained groan.

“I’ll get to you in less than a minute, I promise,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. He could hear your labored breathing through the comms, and it was tearing him apart.

“Steve…” Your voice was faint, each word a struggle.

“Hmm?” he replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the dread clawing at his chest.

“Are the comms… still being recorded?”

Steve’s heart sank. He knew what you were doing, and he hated it. “Yes, kiddo, if there weren’t any changes to the plans, it’s on record.”

You exhaled shakily, the breath catching in your throat. There was only one person you needed to reach out to. “Buck…”

As soon as Steve heard the name, he knew the weight of what you were about to say. Even after four years of being together, Bucky’s name still brought shivers to your spine, thick with emotion.

“If by any chance you get to listen to this, Buck—”

“Y/N, kiddo, no, you’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.”

“You don’t know that…” Your voice was helpless, a reflection of your dwindling strength.

“Just stay there. I’m on my way. Please, don’t give up on us.”

But a part of Steve knew this might be your last moment. It was an instinct, a gut-wrenching feeling that he couldn’t shake. So he didn’t stop you from saying what you needed to.

“If you get a chance to listen to this…” You fought to keep your eyes open, tears mingling with the blood on the cold metal floor. Your mind flashed with the future you had imagined—a life with Bucky, growing old together, watching your children grow up. “In another life, we might—maybe we could have grown old together.”

Steve’s heart clenched as your voice wavered. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but he knew there was nothing he could do except listen.

“I wish I could have given you babies,” you continued, your voice cracking with emotion. “Watched them grow in our backyard… I’m sorry that I can’t be the one to give you that life.”

Your vision blurred as sleepiness started to consume you. You fought against it with everything you had, but the darkness was closing in. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that this is how it ends for us… I’m really sorry.”

“And if this is how it really ends… Promise me you’ll find someone else to love, to open up to. Find someone else… Call someone else ‘doll.’ And don’t grieve too much.”

The darkness was overwhelming now. You felt it pulling you under, felt the life draining from your body as blood poured from your wounds. “You deserve to be happy… And the past doesn’t—doesn’t define you.”

Your last words were barely a whisper. “I… Love you, Buck. And I’m sorry I couldn’t say that more often.”

And then… silence. The darkness consumed you, and Steve heard nothing but the empty static of the comms. He refused to believe it, refused to accept that you were gone. He sprinted through the hallways, throwing open every door until he found you, lying motionless on the floor, your suit stained crimson with blood.

He scooped you up as if you weighed nothing, his legs pumping with every ounce of energy he had left. The jet’s engines hummed steadily, but inside the cabin, chaos reigned. Steve knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he assessed your injuries. The bullets had done their damage—one near your heart, another through your stomach, and the last through your left arm. Blood pooled beneath you, soaking through your suit.

“Kiddo, hang in there, please,” Steve murmured, his voice tight with fear. He grabbed the medical kit from the overhead compartment, spilling its contents across the floor. His hands worked quickly, tearing open a pack of gauze and pressing it firmly against the wounds. The bleeding was relentless, and he knew he needed to act fast to save your life.

You were pale, your breathing shallow and irregular. It was a miracle you were still breathing at all. Steve knew he had to stabilize you before they landed, or you wouldn’t make it. His mind raced through the limited medical training he had received—enough to get through emergencies, but nothing like this.

He fumbled with an IV kit, his hands shaking as he tried to insert the needle into your arm. Your veins were fragile, but after what felt like an eternity, he got it in. He attached a bag of saline solution, knowing it was only a temporary measure.

“Stay with me, kiddo. Buck won’t be so happy about this,” Steve whispered, his voice trembling. Your pulse was faint, but still there. He applied more pressure to the wound, checking if you were breathing again. It was labored, but there were no signs of a collapsed lung, thank God.

He grabbed the portable oxygen mask and gently placed it over your mouth and nose, adjusting the flow to give you the support you desperately needed. Your chest rose and fell slightly more steadily—a small victory amid the chaos.

With one hand still applying pressure to the wound, Steve fumbled with the jet’s communications system. “Friday, please check if the team is ready for immediate surgery.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark has everything prepared, and Dr. Cho is on standby.”

“Can you connect me directly to Tony?”

“Connecting now, sir.”

“Cap, how is she?” Tony’s voice crackled through, tense with concern.

“I think I stabilized her. We’re landing in three minutes, max. Thank God this jet has autopilot, or else… she wouldn’t have made it.”

Tony was silent for a moment. It wasn’t the time for pride or self-congratulation. He was kicking himself for not being more cautious, for not having medics onboard, for underestimating the mission. You were the youngest, the brightest member of the Avengers, and he couldn’t bear to lose you.

Steve checked the wound again. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped. He packed the wound with more gauze, securing it tightly. You needed a blood transfusion, surgery—everything he couldn’t provide here. All he could do was keep you stable until they landed.

“Tony, do me one favor,” Steve said, his voice thick as he wiped the blood from your cheeks. “Please… Don’t let Bucky see her like this. He won’t be able to handle it.”

But Tony’s response was firm. “Sorry, Cap. James already knows. He’s waiting at the airbase. And he has the right to see her.”

Steve nodded, though his heart ached at the thought. “Okay, Tony, thanks… We’re almost there.”

The jet descended, the lights of the airbase coming into view. Steve cradled you close, whispering words of comfort that he wasn’t sure you could hear. “We’re going to make it, kiddo. Just hold on a little longer.”

As the jet landed, the hatch opened to reveal Tony, Dr. Cho, and Bucky. Bucky’s face was ashen, his eyes wide with fear as he took in the sight of you. Steve gently handed you over to Dr. Cho and her team, who rushed you to the medical bay. Bucky stood frozen, staring at the blood that covered Steve’s hands and suit.

“She’s alive, Buck,” Steve said softly, his voice raw with exhaustion. “But she needs you now more than ever. Don’t lose hope.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the sight of you lying there so still. He followed the team as they wheeled you into surgery, praying with everything he had left that you would survive this.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

THERE’S GOING TO BE A PART 2 by Sunday

Part 2 is up y’all

[avengerscompound]

Chris Evans as Steve Rogers AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON

[ronearoundblindly]

Yield

Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

a vague sequel to Warning Signs (not required to read before this)

Summary: Steve takes your mind off a recent tragedy for the team.

Fluff, hurt/comfort with emphasis on the comfort, references to death and trauma but not explicit, SEVERAL sweet kisses 😍. Adjusted (from its languishing, dusty doc) for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' Celebration using the elements: hand kink--although this work is for all-ages--and "ew gross, that's not what I thought would happen today"--except I fudged that a bit. You're welcome even though, yet again, no one asked for this! WC ~2.3k

It’s a dreamless sleep, the kind that feels like you blinked but hours passed. Awareness comes long before awakeness.

Your head aches. You feel as shriveled and puckered as you were laying in the bath tub, soaked but thirsty, letting water steadily drip between your paralyzed, parted lips for so long yesterday. Your eyelids are sandpaper, but they’ve not opened yet.

Minutes tick by—perhaps another hour—and you attempt to remember what’s happening or happened.

Two people died. Gone. Brought back in the belly of the same plane you arrived home in, they are now lost, lost somewhere dark like this, lost like you are for so long as you can stand to keep your sore eyes closed.

Well…you are home but not home all at once.

You’re in a bed, that’s clear, but the pillow isn’t your own. The scent is off. Heavy. Musky. Not unpleasant. Somehow still familiar.

You tick through snapshots of sullen faces trying to remember.

Over you lies a soft, thick blanket. Again not yours. Again pleasing. It has heft. It comforts without constraint.

The hardest sensation to figure out is your hands.

They are…sticky and weighted. You’ve sweat and clammed up upon yourself. Your hands are not clasped in each other. Why the feeling then?

It’s cold—or cool, rather—but not beneath the blanket. The contrast to the battlefield’s heat yesterday is stark though no less repressive. The external pressures of fighting have turned inward, pushing your emotions to the brink. Your won the fight, and after, you lost the war with yourself.

You remember losing that war alone, so what are you holding?

Finally, you look.

There’s someone else in this foreign bed, one of the faces from the sorrowful slideshow behind your eyes.

Steve Rogers sleeps beside you, recognizable only by his size and his crown of golden hair because his head is bent, his hands encasing yours. He’s pressed himself to the bundle of fists between you.

The numbness has yet to lift. That’s why it all reeks of distance and projected celluloid. Yesterday happened but only in that far away world playing on the back of your skull. All you can process as real is that he’s right there and you are right here, simultaneously.

You try harder.

You try to flood color and sound onto the memories until they come closer.

The mission, the deaths, the flailing sense of loss, the unending bewilderment of “what do I do now?”: they become…undeniably tangible. They happened, and they happened to you. You heard the captain promise to stay with you. You heard him…

He called you ‘sweetheart.’

That’s the first thought that stirs something soft among the sharp recollections. That’s when existence returns.

Rogers came to your room. He wouldn’t leave until you were safe. He took care of you, and he called you ‘sweetheart.’ In your months of working with the Avengers, the captain has never once casually assigned an endearment. He says ‘ma’am’ more often than not and barely has nicknames for the teammates he’s worked with for a decade. 

Everyone is Agent, Sir, or Miss. Your last name has always been enough.

You were none of those things last night. You survived a horrid battle, a crippling loss, and a solitude which almost drowned you; it’s silly to admit how he heals your wounds with one simple word.

Sweetheart. A warm cocoa hug to your chest. A gentle embrace. A guidance back toward the light.

Maybe he’ll never say it again. Maybe he meant nothing by it. He only tried to help you. He only wanted you to feel better. Since no one else was around, it’s an easy assumption that Steve simply—

Rogers.

He’s Captain Rogers to you. A coworker. A teammate. That’s all.

It’s difficult to even call him a friend because the man is so professional, so shy.

That shy professional probably saw you naked last night. Whoops.

You shimmy deeper under your covers, tilting your gaze down to the shirt and shorts Rogers dressed you in—his shirt and shorts—but those movements stir the man with your hands.

In a split second, you clamp your eyes shut again and wait in the dark, fighting not to twitch at the dry-sand prickle.

He shifts with a quiet scratching of the sheets, and he sighs, the hot air grazing your knuckles.

One traitorous eye gives a curious peek.

Rogers’s head cranes back to show his sleepy smirk.

“Morning,” he rasps, blinking slowly. He ducks away again to yawn, his face stretching to life, before softly continuing. “How you feeling? Can I getcha anything?”

You tuck your lip under and say nothing. Words have left you.

After allowing the pause, Rogers lets go of your hands, cold flooding your damp skin.

“I’ll get us some water then.”

He doesn’t rumple your blanket. He doesn’t hold eye contact. He just dutifully rolls out of his bed and gets two glasses.

The paralysis is making you quake slightly. What do you say? Will he take you out of the field for this? If not already, will he bench you from how you act next? How will you act next?

He leans a knee onto the still-warm spot he abandoned and tsks.

“Come on. Couple of sips and I’ll leave you alone. Sleep all day if you want, but first—“ He inches the offered water closer.

You rake your eyes up his arm until meeting baby blues.

“Do you mean—“

Rogers’s phone rings. “Shoot, sorry. One second.” He plunks both cups down on his bedside table and answers quickly. “Yeah, Sam, I—no, no run today, I think… Seen her? Um, yeah, she’s…she was—“ glancing back at you over his shoulder, he pulls his hand over his mouth in thought “—I’ll look in…okay, sure thing. Talk later.”

You’re offered another smile and chance at water. “Where were we?”

“So this is where you go to be—“

The failed observation echos in the garage while Captain Rogers kneels by his bike (one of half a dozen). You can’t say ‘alone’ since you’re here, too, so you awkwardly kick your feet over the edge of the steel table he told you to sit on.

Captain America is important enough to be assigned one of the coveted, private garages along one side of the jet hangar, and he assured you, no one bothers him as soon as he closes that door. Where else was he supposed to take you? It’s hot outside, just like yesterday, your room is still trashed, and his room is not exactly neutral territory.

Rogers simply smiles, ticking his head to one side. “Hand me that socket wrench?”

Quick as a rabbit, you hop down, and suddenly, as his fingers drag the cool metal handle from yours, you get it. You forgot all about everything for a split second.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispers, smile still gentle, eyes still brilliant blue.

Your insides swoop more than the mid-air jump from your perch. You tuck your lip in your teeth to stifle the glow threatening to shine out. It feels wrong. You can’t be happy today. You shouldn’t. It’s not right.

Right?

Twice. Twice now he’s slipped. Maybe. Yesterday is mostly a blur. It’s hard to imagine he means to say that. It’s not like the captain to be kind. Well, of course Steve is kind, but in a professional way, a distant way. Instead, this is a tender sort of kind, tenderness like holding onto your hands while you sleep.

He’s watching your every reaction, probably to make sure you don’t fall apart again, probably to make sure you don’t shut down entirely, but you’ve a new focus: him.

“Help me?” Rogers asks, tongue swiping out, nervous. “If you want,” he adds with a shrug.

You shrug, too, but sit on the floor next to him.

He exudes unending patience, explaining the basics of what he’s working on, mentioning nothing when you clearly zone out. You lose whole minutes to either staring at him or staring at nothing. More flashes of yesterday overtake your vision from time to time, even though your eyes are open.

“Should have taken you to the infirmary,” he mutters as you shake off your latest blip.

You drop the tool dangling in your limp hand, and despite knowing there’s an object falling to the concrete floor, you jump violently at the clattering it makes.

You grip at your temples, shielding your face. “Perhaps you should have.”

A warm, steady hand lands on your knee.

“I can finish up here and take you.” He hurries to do something on the bike, and you’re sure he’s about to send you for a psych eval.

That’s the last thing you want. You have to convince him you are fine, better than fine, strong.

You grab for his wrist to get his attention back, but the move makes him twist a cap too hard and thick brown oil comes steaming out all over both of you. It drips from your forearms down and splashes from the drip pan up, the flow quickly tapering off with a thick glug from the pipe.

“Ew, GROSS,” you blurt without thinking. You resist the urge to shake it off. No need to cover more of the room in your shame. “Sorry, Cap. I—That was—“

“No, no.” He’s just laughing, thank goodness. “My fault. Was gonna change that anyway…in a couple months. You alright?” He waits for a nod. “Let’s get this mess off at the sink, yeah?”

Rogers carefully points to the corner. You maneuver onto your feet and alternate raising and lowering your arms, thick rivulets threatening to paint the floor if you let the oil run too far in one direction.

“Wipe what you can off with the towels first.”

You sort of knock the roll over and nudge it across the counter. A strategic elbow turns up the tap and depresses the soap dispenser.

“‘Steve’ is fine,” he says as he massages lather over your palms, “by the way.”

You’re damn right Steve is fine.

Your breath catches while he continues to work the oil off your skin, avoiding eye contact.

After a minute or so, rubbing around and down your fingers, specifically scrubbing along your nails, he clears his throat.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you—“ Steve concentrates on circling each knuckle “—horrible as that sounds.”

You take control of the hand helping you, applying pressure as you feel a small tremor rattle the fine bones, unable to see the clear truth of his words beneath righteously long lashes.

He lets you wash him for a while, rubbing between his fingers, scrubbing along his nails, lathering over his palms.

His voice is so quiet, a low breeze from the distant, retractable ceiling letting in the world.

“Not supposed to say that,” he rumbles, inches away at most, “diminishing as it is to the dead.” Steve halts you and slides his hands up your forearms. “But that’s the point, yeah?” He looks up finally. “Focus on the living…”

You’re frozen, hanging on every word you’re convinced he can’t be saying.

“Is that a quest—“

Steve’s long lashes descend to narrow his path, supple lips grazing yours for the briefest moment before a curt “no.” He moves in for a proper kiss then, head tilting to take full advantage of your shock. A new shock. A different kind of shock from the one you’ve barely recovered from since…

Twenty-four hours. Horror. Sweetheart. Limbo. Sweetheart. Bliss.

He’s right. The heat of him signals life and passion, desperation and spirit for the best kind of danger: a leap of faith from the heart.

A sweet heart.

It’s at this shocking and romantic turn that you realize, you’d follow him anywhere, just as he’s followed you onto a doomed battlefield, into your chaotic mind, into a cold and lonely shower. You had nothing but doubt; he offered nothing but hope.

Your weight leans into the clutch of devoted sinew and reverent tendons. Steve takes that as a welcome encouragement.

One day it might be him or it might be you, and as difficult and painful as that would be, it helps to focus on who is still here. Both of you. Together. Now.

He’s lavish and indulgent, intense because his wet hands can’t pull you closer. His tenderness and decency saturate every atom of connection between you. Each generous touch conveys something undying and pure.

Your hold on each other slips in the running tap when Steve get a little greedy, his body pinning yours to the rim of the sink.

Immediately, he apologizes, retracting into a shell of chivalry and sympathy.

You swallow to compose yourself, minimal effect achieved.

After a fair few thundering heartbeats pulse past you ears, you manage, “that’s not what I thought would happen today.”

The baby blue irises are the picture of horror. “Bad? No?”

Steve steps back only once before you follow.

“Why me?” you counter softly.

He huffs in his infinite patience with you and rolls his eyes in disappointment with himself. Steve hangs his head, propping his arm on either edge of counter nearest him. A dark, bitter chuckle escapes before he finally confesses.

“Because every other day I feel very little, but with you, I want so much more.”

Is this how you looked to him yesterday? A raw wound begging for help in blinding light? Did he have this fear that he couldn’t offer enough?

It is enough though. It has to be enough to try for what you want, to live even in kindness and duty. He’s taken a step, and so can you.

You smile, close the remaining distance, and whisper one word into Steve’s waiting mouth.

Promise—

Question or statement, it doesn’t matter, or perhaps, you’ll figure it out on any other day. Today it simply means you're both alive.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Hope this turned out okay and that you enjoyed the fluff! If not, don't worry. I've got a smutty lifeguard!Steve one-shot in the works, too!! Tags will be in a reblog since they've been so wonky lately.

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “212 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

[capibuck]

Soulmates 🧡

I have open commissions ❤️ You can support my art with a ko fi ☕

[slutforaemondtargaryen]

Safe with You | Steve Rogers

Pairings: Steve Rogers × Reader

Warnings: honestly just start with slight angst (if you even can find it) and ending with fluff, no use of y/n

Summary: The reader is worried about Steve constantly putting his life on the line.

Word Count: 851

a/n: heyyy, so after months i finally decided to write something. i'm so sorry for how it's written. i mostly forgot how to write so it sounds like it's written by a robot haha. hope you enjoy though <3

reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated <3

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!

The silence in the room felt suffocating. You sat on the couch, your arms wrapped around your knees, staring at the floor. Steve stood by the window, his posture rigid, as if he was preparing for a fight—just not the kind you were having.

“Say something,” his voice broke the stillness, low and pained.

You didn’t want to fight, but the words were lodged in your throat, waiting to spill out. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that had been building for weeks.

“How can I?” you finally said, your voice trembling. “You keep throwing yourself into danger without thinking about what it does to me.”

Steve turned, his brows furrowed, but his blue eyes softened as they met yours. He stepped closer, though not close enough to touch you. “It’s my job—”

“No, Steve,” you cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “It’s not just a job. It’s your life. Every time you leave, I don’t know if you’ll come back. Do you know how terrifying that is? To love someone who might never walk through the door again?”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never wanted to make you feel like this.”

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that would shield you from the vulnerability you felt spilling out. “But you do. Every single time. You risk your life for everyone else, and I’m left here, wondering if this time will be the last.”

He moved towards you, gently taking your hand in his, though you didn’t pull away. His touch was warm, grounding you even in your pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I never want to leave you like that.”

You looked up at him, seeing the guilt in his eyes. You knew he meant every word. That’s who Steve was—always putting others first, always willing to make sacrifices. But it didn’t make this any easier.

“Then stop,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Stop putting your life on the line like it doesn’t matter. Because it matters to me, Steve. You matter to me.”

Steve’s hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “I’m trying to keep everyone safe,” he said softly. “Including you.”

“But who’s keeping you safe?” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “Who’s keeping you safe for me?”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, his hand still cradling your cheek. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of responsibility he carried every day. But then, something softened in his expression.

“I can’t promise I’ll never be in danger,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can promise I’ll always come back to you. No matter what. I’ll always fight to come back.”

You felt your heart ache at his words, but at the same time, a warmth began to spread through you. You knew Steve would never back down from a fight, that he’d always be Captain America. But here, with you, he was just Steve—someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

“I hate that I can’t protect you the way you protect everyone else,” you murmured, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “But I don’t want to lose you, Steve. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m right here. And I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day after that. For you.”

You closed the small distance between you, wrapping your arms around his waist as you pressed your face into his chest. His arms circled you, pulling you close, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace. He held you tightly, as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I promise.”

You believed him. You had to, because you loved him too much not to.

And for now, wrapped in his arms, you let yourself believe that everything would be okay. Because when Steve said he’d come back to you, you knew he’d move heaven and earth to keep that promise.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

Steve pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so he could look into your eyes. His smile was soft, filled with the warmth that always melted your heart. “I love you too. More than anything.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was gentle but full of the promise he’d just made. It wasn’t a goodbye, but a reminder that he was here, with you, and that no matter what battles he faced out there, his heart was always with you.

In that moment, the fear faded, replaced by the certainty that you had each other. And that was enough.

[amethystarachnid]

LITTLE STAR

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genre: angsty (ok, a lot of angst) romance and tiny bit of fluff

ᯓᡣ𐭩 AU: Steve is born in the 21st century and isn't a superhero, basically the world is like ours

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Story type: one shot

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Word count: 4.1 K

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TW(s): talks of death, domestic abuse, deadbeat father, a lot of angst, I know nothing about football so incorrect football things.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Request: Hi! | have a request for a story for Steve Rogers x female character. The genre would be romance but it would be very angsty/sad but with a happy ending. (the request is longer but if I write it here it'll spoil the story)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Songs & Superheroes tales — The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

Seven years ago

“48…49…50! I’ll find you, Y/N!” Steve says as he turns around from the tree he was facing, his eyes scanning the small park, trying to find where you were hiding. You have always been good at this game, but he was always better.

“Found you!” Steve says as he sees you crunching down in the little house on the slide.

“How can you always find me?!” You sigh and sit down on the dirty wood of the Colorful House,that’s how you both called it even though with the years it had lost most of its color, leaving only some red and some blue here and there.

“I already checked your other favorite places, so the Colorful house was the only place left.” Steve explains proudly as he sits down next to you.

“Next time I’ll be the one counting and I’ll find you in less than five seconds!” You pout, but the smile comes back on your face when a certain thought crosses your mind, “Are you excited to start middle school, Stevie?”

The boy shrugs his shoulders, “it’s just school.”

“No it isn’t! It’s the big kids’ school!” You were excited, like really excited. You, who usually hate school, haven't stopped talking about middle school since the start of summer break. You have already bought all the supplies you needed and more.

“It will all be the same, study, more study and study even more!” Steve sighs, you give him a playful nudge with your elbow.

“You say that only because you’ll have less time to play football.” Football has always been Steve’s sport, he liked and he was damn good at it.

“Maybe.” Steve gave you a small smile.

Three years later

“Stevie? What’s this?” You ask, confused, as you look at the big truck in front of Steve’s house, two men are putting boxes in it.

Steve flinches when hearing his name, he didn’t want her to see this, “Y/N! I can…can explain…”

“Are you moving out? Without telling me?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you look up at your best friend, he has gotten taller over the years and his first muscles started to show thanks to his football training.

“No! I mean yes but-“ Steve sighs and takes a deep breath, “Remember my dream school?”

“Of course.” How could you forget? He always talks about it, it’s a private high school in San Francisco that’s literally connected – for lack of better terms – with a college there. Basically, after you finish high school you already have a seat ready for you in the college, which is one of the best in the country.

“Well, I got offered a sports scholarship to go there!” Steve sounds so happy about that, are you a bad friend because you aren't happy for him? Are you selfish? Probably yes, because the only thing that you can think about right now is how he’s going to leave you alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You can barely hear yourself now. Did he think that you would try and make him stay? Well…That’s what you want to do, but you don't want to be a shitty friend, you don't want Steve to abandon his dream for you. Because that’s the thing in your friendship: if you were to ask Steve to not go to San Francisco he would drop everything and stay with you.

“I wanted to tell you, really but…I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.”

Translation: if you were upset you’d ask me to stay, I’d stay because I hate seeing you upset, but I don’t want to stay because this is my dream.

“I am upset, no point in lying, it’s just…I would’ve told you if I were in your place.” You sit down on the porch of Steve’s house.

“I know, I’m sorry…” Steve sits down next to you and, as always, you can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I already forgave you,” You smile softly as you shrug your shoulders, “so, when do you have to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Now it’s Steve’s voice that’s a mere whisper. The day after tomorrow? And when was he planning on telling me? When he was already on the plane? God knows how much you want to tell him all your thoughts, but you have only a few hours left to spend together and you don't want to spend them fighting on not talking to each other.

“Then why are we sitting here?” You ask, standing up and holding out your hand towards your best friend, “Let’s spend as much time as we can together!”

Steve smiles up at you and grabs your hand, pulling himself up, “I like your plan.”

During the next day you two did everything you could think of: you skated together, had a sleepover, you even made bracelets for each other – the one Steve made for you said ‘Little star’ because that’s how he liked to call you, while the bracelet you made for him said ‘Stevie’.

“But will you come back during the holidays?” You ask, Steve stands next to his father’s car, Steve’s mom will drive her son and husband to the airport: Steve’s dad will stay with him for a few weeks until he’s gotten used to San Francisco, then Steve will move in his dorm at the school and his dad will come back.

“I promise.” Steve smiles down at you and throws his arms around your waist while you hug his neck, “take care, little star.”

“You too, Stevie, I’ll miss you.” You kiss his cheek and blink back the tears, you don’t want to cry right now, one of your last memories with Steve won’t be a sad one.

“I’ll miss you too.” And with that, Steve enters the car, before he could do something stupid like kissing you. Once in the car, though, he sees how sad you looked and he sighs, fuck it. He gets out of the car and hugs you again.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N, but I don’t want to leave with regrets.” Before you can ask him what he means he presses his lips on yours. It’s just a quick peck, an innocent kiss between thirteen years old, but you feel your heart explode. “I’ll become the best football player ever, I’ll make money and then we’ll go live together on a mountain, like you always wanted…Just, wait for me.”

You smile up at him and nod, “I’ll wait for you.”

Present day

Steve didn’t hold his promise. It was always his parents going to San Francisco for the holidays and never him coming back to Brooklyn. For three years you didn’t hear from each other, it may seem a short time for people that knew each other since birth but a lot can change in three years, even more than Steve ever thought was possible.

He gets out of the car, parking it in front of his childhood house: he was back in Brooklyn for his last year of high school.

“Y/N changed her house a lot.” He says towards his parents as he looks towards what used to be your childhood home, now a different color and without the front porch.

“Oh no, they don’t live there anymore.” His mom explains, “after Y/N’s mom died they moved into an apartment on the other side of the city.”

“What?” Steve feels like a cold water bucket has just been thrown over his head, “Y/N’s mom died?” She was young and healthy though.

“Yes, two years ago, she had a heart attack, Y/N asked us to not tell you.”

“Why?” His mom shrugs her shoulders, then puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“It hasn’t been easy for her, but from what I know she goes to the same school you’ll go from tomorrow, try and talk to her.” She squeezes his shoulder, “You’re her best friend after all, aren’t you?”

Am I? Steve thinks, I wasn’t by her side when her mom died, I haven’t seen in three years…Are we really more than strangers?

“Why are they all staring at me?” Steve asks Bucky, one of his childhood friends, as they walk in the hallways of Brooklyn’s high school.

“Because you’re the handsome new guy.” Bucky explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I’m not actually new, I’m sure I went to middle school with at least fifteen people in this hallway.”

“But you’re not the same Steve Rogers that left three years ago, you look like a fucking closet man.” Bucky chuckles, but it’s the truth, Steve had gotten taller and very muscular in only three years.

“I guess you’re right.” Steve can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, he reaches his locker, before he can open it though he notices a girl standing on the locker next to his. That girl is you, but he recognizes you only after you close your locker. You look the same as three years ago and another completely different person at the same time. Obviously you are older, and that shows on your features, and you are even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Y/N!” He says with a bright smile on his face, your eyes widen when you recognize him but quickly you look down and walk away, completely ignoring him.

“Don’t mind her, she hasn’t been the same since her mom died.” Bucky explains, “she doesn’t speak to anyone, is always late to school and never has money for lunch, I buy it for her sometimes but I’m not even sure if she actually eats it.”

“What happened to her?” Steve whispers as he looks at you entering your next class, which, coincidentally, is the one he has next too. He walks in the class and smiles when he sees that the seat next to you is free.

“Y/N, it’s me, Steve.” He says as he sits next to you. You could ignore him, look away, hell, even change seat, but hearing his voice so close after three years made your heart swell and clench at the same time. What is he doing here? You couldn’t help but ask yourself that, shouldn’t he be doing his last year in San Francisco? Did he change his mind?

“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard the whispers, everyone’s talking about you.” You shrug your shoulders, acting like the only thing you want to do isn’t throw yourself in his arms and feel some comfort for the first time in years.

“It’s the first time we see each other in three years and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Listen, I’m sorry for never coming back in Brooklyn during the last years but I’m here now can’t we just-”

“Class’s starting." You interrupt him and point at the teacher who just walked in the classroom. Steve scoffs but turns his attention to the teacher.

After a while he hands you a piece of paper with ‘you know I don’t give up easily’ written on it.

Soon you feel like you have another shadow, a shadow that’s taller and bigger than you. Steve follows you everywhere he can and he’s always trying to make you open up, trying to bring your friendship back.

“Are you going to follow me home too?” You snap at Steve when the last bell rings.

“Do you want me to? I haven't seen your new house yet.” He says, putting his backpack on one shoulder.

“And you never will.” You answer harshly, showing him the small and dirty apartment where you lived would be too embarrassing.

Steve shrugs your answer off, “You’re lucky I have practice today.” He’s on the school football team and they couldn’t be happier.

“Why did you come back from San Francisco?” You can’t help but ask, why would someone ever leave that place?

“Had a fight with a boy who was harassing a girl, turns out it was the principal’s son.” Steve shakes his head, “immediate expulsion.”

Why did his answer hurt? Were you hoping he’d say something like ‘I missed you’? How stupid of you, he didn’t even call in three years. You nod and turn away, walking towards your house. The same house that was barely a home, more like a prison. It wasn’t the outside of the building the problem, and not even the small apartment itself, the problem was the man who lived with you. Your father, at least, who he should be. To you, ever since your mother’s death, it felt like living with a stranger.

“Dad, I’m home.” You shout as you open the door to the apartment on the second floor. Silence. Silence is the only thing that you can hear, and you couldn’t be happier: silence means that he isn’t at home, which also means he’s probably out drinking and will come back in the evening highly drunk. But that will be a problem for future you, for now you lay on your bed, doing your homework. You even take a small nap.

Your small time in paradise ends as you’re cooking dinner and the door opens. Your dad walks inside, crawling his feet on the ground, with an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“Oh, you’re cooking, I see you’ve learned your lesson.” At his words your mind flies to the bruise on your stomach, but you quickly shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m cooking some soup.” You close your eyes, breaching yourself for the storm that is about to come.

“Soup? You know I hate soup!” He says as he starts getting angry, which definitely isn’t a good thing.

“I noticed that soup was the only thing we had when it was too late to go to the store.” You admit, already feeling the pain of the hit when he didn’t even hit you, yet.

“Useless as always!” He shouts and throws the empty glass bottle of beer at your legs. You damn yourself in your mind for deciding to wear shorts when you feel the glass against your bare legs, leaving cuts behind. You don’t dare to flinch or even make a little sound, though, knowing that it would only make him more mad.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper as you place two plates of soup on the table, “I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“You better, I’m not eating this shit.” Your father throws his plate with soup on the ground, breaking it in tiny little pieces. He’s worse than a toddler. You get up from your chair and start cleaning immediately, knowing that if you didn’t he would only get worse. You ignore the pain from the fresh cuts on your legs and pick the ceramic shatters from the ground, the soup on the ground wetting your slippers.

“I can’t cook anything else for you though…” You whisper, not even scared anymore, simply resigned and used to it.

You know that he could misunderstand every word you say.

You know he could hit you anytime.

You know you don’t have a choice but endure it till you’re done with high school.

You know you have to wait another nine months for that.

“You stupid bitch! Your mom would have never done this!” Your heart clenches at his words. How dare he talk about her, when he was the cause of her death?

“Don’t talk about her, you can’t.” You glare at him as you stand up, throwing the ceramic shatters you had just collected on the ground again.

“I can’t? And why can’t I?” He walks towards you, his big frame making you feel small and vulnerable, but not in a good way.

“You killed her!” You shout at him, tears starting to blur your vision, but you blink them back: you won’t cry in front of him. It’s basically telling him that you’re scared.

And you would never admit that.

“It wasn’t me who killed her, it was you! You killed your own mother!” You know that he’s trying to manipulate and gaslight you, but at the same time you have heard that sentence so much that you were starting to believe it.

Maybe if you were a better daughter she would still be alive.

Maybe if you were more independent she would still be with you.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe your mother is happier now. Wherever she is now she doesn’t have to look after an incompetent man who can’t even cook for himself, she doesn’t have to stay up until sunrise to make sure he doesn’t come to your room when drunk.

Maybe it’s for her best that she’s dead now.

“NO! You killed her because she was always so busy looking after you that she barely had time to look after herself, she never had the time to even do a check up!” You shout at him, tears rolling down your cheeks freely. “She died because you wouldn’t even pick up your own nose from the ground-” You let out a banshee-level scream as you feel the ceramic sink into your shoulder.

He stabbed you with a piece of ceramic from the plate.

Your father.

Your daddy, the same man who played princess tea party with you when you were four. The same man who checked under your bed for monsters every night for years.

You almost laugh when you realize you can’t remember any happy memories with your dad after your tenth birthday.

Two weeks later.

Luckily, the nurses believed you when you told them that you were taking a plate from a high shelf and it fell and broke on your shoulder. Steve, on the other hand…

“Tell me what happened.” Steve says as he sits next to you inside the Colorful House in the park.

“You follow me outside of school too, now?” You say annoyed.

“This was your favorite place to hide when we were kids, I see it didn’t change.” There’s a sad smile on his face, then he turns to you, “I don’t believe that a plate fell on you, tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth.” You roll your eyes, he sighs and his eyes fall on your wrist.

“You aren’t wearing your bracelet anymore.” He notices for the first time, you hide your wrist with your other hand.

“It broke.” My dad broke it. “You aren’t wearing it either.”

“I was worried it would break so I transformed it into a necklace.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt, revealing the letters that you used to make his bracelet, ‘Stevie’.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing you can say as you try to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Neither of you has spoken about what happened before he left, but it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Or literally anything but your dad.

“You kissed me before leaving and then you never came back, you never even called!” You say.

“What? I called almost every day!” You look at him confused at his words, “I knew you didn’t have a phone so I called the only number I remembered: your father’s.”

“That explains a lot of things…” You look down at your feet, Steve had called your father and he never told you anything? Why?

“He told me you didn’t want to talk to me or that you weren’t home, after a while I think he blocked my number, I didn’t have any other way to contact you and I simply thought you…didn’t want to hear from me…”

You look at him with a sad look, “He never told me about your calls.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knows what goes on in his sick mind.” Without even realizing your hand goes to the injury on your shoulder, and that’s when Steve understands.

“It was him, he gave you that scar.”

You nod, your eyes filling with tear, “Stabbed me with a piece of ceramic from a broken plate”

“Y/N that’s sick! Why didn’t you feel the truth at the hospital? Or to a teacher or…or…or to me…” His voice gets quieter towards the end of the sentence.

You shrug your shoulders, “I only have to endure it another few months, then I’ll leave and never come back.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve gently wraps an arm around your shoulders, careful on the scar, and pulls you towards his chest. You bury your face in his broad chest and finally let go, crying against him. When was the last time you felt free to cry? At your mother’s funeral probably.

“Since my mother’s death.” You look up at him, placing your chin on his chest, comforted by his hold and the look of his eyes you decide to tell him the whole truth. “She died of a heart attack, that’s true, but you know what caused the heart attack?” You take a deep breath, “Exhaustion, overworking, call it however you like but truth is she was like my father’s slave — your heart falls in pronouncing those words — he made her work so much that in the end her heart couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Steve places a hand on the back of your head and cradles your head against his chest, kissing your forehead.

“And now he’s doing the same to me, I have to do everything in the house and if I don’t…” You can’t even finish the sentence as your body shakes with sobs.

“I’ll get you out of there, I promise.” Steve continues repeating soothing words to your ear and kissing your hair, you slowly calm down and look up at him, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

“No need to thank me, I would do anything for you.”

“So…” A grin forms on your face as you push any thought regarding your father away, “What about that kiss?”

Steve laughs, “Well, my offer to go live on a mountain is still up if you want.”

“Like, best friends living together?”

“What if I want us to be more than best friends?” His eyes fall on your lips.

“Then I’d tell you that I want the same.” You press your lips on his, it’s a gentle and soft kiss. Just like Steve.

“I love you, damn I’ve loved you since we were kids.” You smile at his words.

“I love you too.”

Months later

There are only a few days left until graduation, until you can finally leave the hell that was supposed to be your home.

“Hello Mrs. Rogers.” You greet Steve’s mom as she opens the door. Since you and Steve started dating your presence has become almost constant at house Rogers, just like when you were a kid.

“Oh Y/N, Steve’s in his room.” She greets you with a hug. “I’m so happy that you are his girlfriend, I always knew you two would end up together.” You smile and before she can start planning your wedding you run to Steve’s room where he’s sitting on the bed.

“I know that look, you need to tell me something.” You give him a peck on the lips as a greeting.

“Yes and it’s big happy news.”

“Tell me everything big boy.” You know he hates that nickname, and that’s exactly why you keep calling him that.

“I got a call from the coach of an important Football team, I’ll spare you the details because I know you understand nothing of Football, but…” he takes your hands in his, “They want me in the team! I’m going pro on one of the best teams in the U.S.!” It’s true, you understand nothing of football but the excitement in his face and tone is hard to resist.

“This is fantastic! I’m so happy for you!” You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“I want you to come with me.” He says as he cups your face in his hands. “Come live with me, there’s a great college near where I’ll have to stay, you can study there! It isn’t a mountain but it’ll keep you away from your dad.”

Only now you notice that you’re both crying, and for the first time in years yours are happy tears.

“I would love that.”

“Really?!” He kisses you again and again, laying you down on the bed between your laughs.

“I can’t wait to see you at my games, you’ll come see them right?”

“I won’t miss a single one.” You smile as he kisses your jaw. “I’ll be your lucky charm.” You chuckle.

“You’re better than my lucky charm, you’re my little star, the light of my life.”

You kiss him with a smile. He keeps calling you his star, but little does he know that he’s the sun of your life.

Your savior, the man who will take you away from you father.

The man you love.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, but don’t feel forced to!

[sycamorelibrary754]

Guardian Angel Masterlist

Summary: It took time, patience, and an intense personal as well as public effort for Wanda to be welcomed back into the Avengers after the Westview events. However, deep down, she didn't believe that she deserved to be accepted back. Billy and Tommy, somehow, managed to survive the destruction of the Hex. Now, Wanda's primary focus is rebuilding her life with her beloved sons. One Monday morning, when she went out for a simple coffee date with Natasha, she met you. You were the unexpected surprise that she didn't see coming, but maybe it's a positive kind of surprise.

Setting: This story takes place one year after the events of WandaVision, and assumes that the Multiverse of Madness did not occur.

Chapter List:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Discussion: All posts related to this story will be #GuardianAngel. Feel free to ask questions! I love this story.

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

HEARTSTRINGS AND PROPOSALS

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: talking down on oneself, sadness, and a tooth rotting amount of fluff

Summary: Tony felt a distance between the two of you he had never felt before. So he decides to make it up to you by spoiling you with his money, turns out, you want something else.

Tony Stark was a man who thrived on challenges. He had built an empire, crafted a legacy, and saved the world more times than he could count. But the most precious thing in his life wasn’t his arc reactor or his suits of armor—it was you. And lately, the fear of losing you had settled deep into his bones, a fear he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried.

Two years had passed since you first became his partner in all things, not just in love but in life. Yet, as much as he adored you, Tony couldn’t help but feel the distance growing between you. He knew he was often absent—late nights in the lab, endless meetings, and missions that took him away for days on end. He could see how it might wear on you, how it might make you question your place in his chaotic world.

Determined to prove his love, to remind you of the passion that had brought you together, Tony planned an extravagant date night. He wanted to sweep you off your feet, the way he had the first time you’d ever looked at him with that sparkle in your eyes, the one that told him you saw him, not the billionaire or the superhero, but the man beneath it all.

He flew you to Milan on a private jet, the city glittering beneath you as you landed. A car whisked you away to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the world, where every bite was a masterpiece, and every glance you shared across the table was filled with unspoken words. After dinner, he led you on a shopping spree through the most luxurious boutiques, wanting to shower you with all the things he thought you deserved—the finest clothes, the most exquisite jewelry.

But as you wandered through the stores, Tony began to notice something was off. You were polite, of course, admiring the beautiful things he showed you, but there was a hesitation in your eyes, a discomfort that made his chest tighten with worry.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” Tony said, holding up a delicate diamond necklace that caught the light like a prism. He hoped it would make you smile, that you’d light up the way you usually did when you saw something you loved.

You took the necklace in your hands, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes. “It’s beautiful, babe,” you murmured, placing it back down gently. “But I don’t really need it.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat, a cold fear creeping up his spine. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the worry seeped into his words. “What do you mean, honey? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, sensing his unease. You reached out to take his hand, squeezing it softly. “I just… I don’t need any of this. You don’t have to buy me things to make me happy.”

The air felt thick with tension as Tony tried to process your words. All his grand plans, the luxurious dinner, the shopping spree—they were supposed to be proof of his love, a way to show you that he was still here, still committed to making you happy. But as he stood there, watching you look so uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed.

“Are you unhappy?” Tony asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing nervously over the back of your hand.

“No, of course not,” you replied, your brows knitting together in concern. “Tony, why would you think that?”

“Because…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “I just feel like I haven’t been around enough. Like maybe you’re getting tired of me being gone all the time, and this was supposed to make up for it. But now I’m worried that you might… that you might be falling out of love with me.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke your heart. Tony Stark, the man who faced down armies and gods, was standing before you, looking like a scared boy, afraid of losing the one thing that mattered most to him. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Baby, look at me,” you said softly, your voice filled with love and sincerity. “I’m not falling out of love with you. I could never. I don’t care about the money, or the gifts, or any of that. I fell in love with you because of who you are—not Tony Stark, the billionaire or Iron Man, but Tony, the man who makes me laugh, who holds me when I’m sad, who sees me for who I am and loves me anyway.”

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the truth in your words, and what he found there seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders. “I just want to be with you,” you continued, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You don’t have to try so hard, baby. I love you for you, not for what you can give me.”

Tony felt his heart swell at your words, the fear that had been gripping him loosening its hold. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if you might disappear if he let go. “God, I love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out,” you murmured, holding him just as tightly.

---

Back at the Avengers’ HQ, the two of you settled into Tony’s quarters, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. The lights were dim, the movie you’d picked playing softly in the background, but neither of you was paying much attention to it. You were lying on the couch, your head resting on Tony’s chest, his fingers lazily playing with your hair as he held you close.

For the first time in weeks, Tony felt at peace. The worries that had plagued him earlier seemed so far away now, replaced by the warmth of your body against his and the sound of your breathing in sync with his own. But there was still one question lingering in his mind, one that he couldn’t ignore any longer.

“Sweetheart?” he asked quietly, his voice soft in the dim light.

“Hmm?” you murmured, looking up at him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest.

“Do you… do you still love me?” Tony’s voice was hesitant, as if he were afraid of the answer.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his eyes. You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair as you looked deep into his gaze. “Tony, of course, I still love you,” you said softly. “I love you more than I can even explain.”

Tony’s breath hitched, and he held you a little tighter, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you love me?”

You smiled gently, feeling your heart swell with emotion. “I love you because you’re the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever known. Because you’re brave, and selfless, and you always put others before yourself. I love how you make me laugh, how you know just what to say when I’m feeling down. I love how you’re always there for me, even when you’re dealing with so much yourself. I love the way you look at me, like I’m the most important person in the world to you.”

As you spoke, you could see the emotions flickering in Tony’s eyes—love, relief, and something else, something deeper that made your heart skip a beat. You took a deep breath, your voice growing softer as you continued. “I love you because you see me, the real me, and you still think I’m worth it. I fell in love with the man who doesn’t need to be Iron Man or Tony Stark, the man who just needs to be himself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, baby—just you.”

Tony stared at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He’d always been a man of action, of words, but right now, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the love you were pouring into him.

You smiled, feeling a little shy after your heartfelt confession. “Sorry, that was probably really sappy,” you mumbled, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to get all cringe on you.”

But before you could pull away, Tony’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye. “Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That was… God, that was the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You blinked, surprised to see tears in his eyes, and before you could say anything, Tony leaned down and kissed you, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of love he felt into that kiss. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” you replied firmly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You deserve all the love in the world, Tony.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his heart swelling with so much love and gratitude that he thought it might burst. And then, in that moment of pure, unfiltered emotion, he realized something that had been building inside him for a long time.

“Marry me.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, but the second they did, he knew they were right. He wanted to spend

the rest of his life with you, to wake up next to you every morning, to grow old with you. You were his home, his everything.

You froze, your eyes widening in shock. “What?”

“Marry me,” Tony repeated, his voice steady and sure. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I want you by my side forever, as my partner, my wife. Please, baby.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized he was serious, that this wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing. He was asking you to spend your life with him, to be with him through thick and thin. And in that moment, you knew there was only one answer you could give.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Tony’s face lit up with the brightest smile you’d ever seen, and he pulled you into a fierce hug, burying his face in your neck as he held you tight. “God, I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.

“I love you too, baby,” you whispered back, feeling your heart swell with happiness.

---

The next morning, you were still floating on a cloud of bliss as you walked into the common area of the Avengers’ HQ. Natasha was already there, sipping her coffee with a knowing smirk on her face. “You look like you had a good night,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you sat down beside her. “It was… perfect,” you said, your voice dreamy.

Natasha chuckled, nudging you playfully. “So, do you still get butterflies?”

You blushed, remembering the previous night, and nodded. “Yeah, I do. Every time I see him.”

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? After all this time?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your smile softening as you thought of Tony. “He still makes my heart race.”

Before Natasha could respond, a familiar voice cut in. “What was that about making hearts race?”

You turned to see Tony standing in the doorway, his hair slightly tousled, a grin on his face. He had clearly heard your conversation, and his cheeks were tinged with pink.

You rolled your eyes, but the affection in your gaze was unmistakable. “Nothing, just girl talk,” you teased.

Tony sauntered over, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “If I make your heart race, you should see what you do to mine,” he murmured, just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

Natasha groaned, rolling her eyes. “You two are nauseating.”

But as she watched Tony’s eyes light up with happiness and saw the way you leaned into him, she couldn’t help but smile. Because in that moment, it was clear to everyone in the room that the love between you and Tony was something special, something that would last a lifetime.

[estelior]

Happy Birthday, Steve!

[renif]

this is a continuation of my previous post "what if bucky never recovered the memories from the past but managed to escape hydra all the same and when steve finds him, well, for bucky it's almost like meeting a stranger. one that expects you to be someone you're not."

[darsynia]

Dragonfly (Steve/Reader fantasy AU)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary:  Evil has prevailed. Your mentor’s dead, home destroyed, family scattered--you’re all that is left. At the last second, a stranger is called by magic to save your life. Can the two of you defeat the villain before he reaches the pinnacle of power?

Words/Warnings: 4,700 | canon-typical violence

draGONfly is 3/7 of my birthday gift set for @ronearoundblindly and is an action/adventure, angst with a happy ending story set after the blip. I know right now is a hugely busy week for you, Ro, and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

NOTE: it's MCU Steve in here! 'Worlds Collide'

Excerpt:

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Dragonfly

You’ve been on the run for ten days, with no safe haven to look forward to. The magic hunting you is relentless, fueled by hatred of your now-dead mentor and everything the two of you stood for. Your only reprieve is sleep; your enemy wants to witness the horror on your face in your moment of death.

All you can do is forge a path deeper into the forest, away from any innocent who could be harmed by Jovann Micht’s conjured creatures. As if watching Bram die hadn’t been torture enough, it seems you’re destined to die in the wilderness, alone.

You lean back on a tree and risk a pause to drink from your flask. Deep inside you feel your magic tremble; rest, food, and hydration is needed to stay powerful, but that is the point of Micht’s pursuit. Eventually you’ll falter, and he’ll achieve the last of his goals.

Does he know you bear the vial of his destruction? Those few teaspoonfuls are a potent culmination of your mentor’s study of the arcane, a life’s work of gathering and refining the most dangerous, mystical ingredients and combining them to make a weapon. You’d been able to see just two of the substances interact before being sealed into the final mixture, and the light they’d emitted had lingered in your vision for almost an hour afterwards.

There are three ways this can end: ideally, you’ll pour the vial into the glacial source of the valley’s drinking water and let the power propagate amongst the population Jovann Micht means to control. If that fails, you might be forced to break the vial with your dying strength, spilling its beautiful potential into the ground rather than empower one of Micht’s monsters-- or Micht himself.

The worst, most horrible option is for you to drink it yourself and spend the rest of your life battling to control the power Bram Ersk warned you about.

Heavy buzzing nearby sends your adrenaline racing, but it’s only a dragonfly angling its way past you toward the stream you've been following up to the mountains. They’re your favorite insect, brightly colored and free, with wide wings that decorate tree branches too delicate for a human’s weight.

You tuck away your canteen and check to see that your weapons are ready. The bow and arrows had only served to slow you down, so you’d sent them towards the plains with a burst of precious magic, a misdirection that hadn’t worked. Bram’s sword is cumbersome but necessary, and the daggers scattered through your clothing are a last resort.

Seconds later your preparedness pays off. The barest rustling of the leaves above your head has you crouching down with one leg stretched out for leverage if you need to run. You draw a dagger from its sheath at your back and watch in fascinated horror as your newest attacker reveals itself.

It’s a huge snake, fast and menacing. It strikes out and you dodge sideways, performing a half-roll to distance yourself, dagger still at the ready. Smoke rises from a splash of venom on your padded trousers, and a stab of fear strikes your gut. The snake can spit, likely with magic-enhanced distance. Is this how you finally die? Worn down with nowhere to hide from this acid toxin, then slain once exhaustion drops you?

You curl into a protective stance and tighten your grip on the dagger, drawing the creature in. Once it’s close, you spin up from the ground in a flurry of slashing blades. One dagger connects, but it’s glancing, enough to send the snake into retreat, but not enough to kill.

That only makes things worse. Your field of danger has increased to include the entire forest canopy.

There may only be a few minutes before the next showdown. You wipe your dagger on the nearby moss and place it back in its sheath for now. The forest around you is new growth, full of brambles and other scutgrass that tear at your armor, with a hundred branches arching over your head. You fight your way through to the stream with fear choking your throat, worried that you’ll have to expend more of your depleted magical energy to save yourself. If you need to use magic to survive his enchanted attackers from this point on, there won't be anything left. 

You’ve kept that power in reserve for some kind of final showdown, but there's at least a day left before you get where you're going.

Despair hits, and you scrabble at your neck, suddenly furious at the friend and mentor whose plans have brought you to such misery. The locket he’d given you has always been a talisman, a symbol of hope, but now you look at its silver concentric circles and feel nothing but betrayal.

Movement catches your eye, and you swing out blindly, the locket flying from your grip. As it spins, a blinding golden light spills out, growing larger and brighter until finally a figure steps forth--just as Micht’s devil-snake launches directly at you.

“Down!” a voice commands, and you drop, watching in shock as the glowing figure hurls a disk through the magical snake. The horrid thing lands in pieces that immediately shrivel and writhe. They melt into the ground, leaving only a low-lying, putrid fog behind.

The man stalks towards you, still obscured by the now-fading golden light. Instead of finishing you off, he strides past and pulls his disc-- his shield-- free from the tree it had sliced into. When he turns back your way, the man tucks something into a pouch on his chest, and the glowing light diminishes enough to see him. He looks you over, brows furrowed not in anger, but obvious confusion.

“Are you all right?”

“Thank you,” you say, struck near-dumb by the imposing presence of the man. He’s tall and broad, handsomely clad in padded armor with leather accents, but it’s his shield that has your attention. Its concentric circles and inner star look just like Bram’s locket, but in color.

He seems self-conscious about it, spinning the shield around and attaching it to his armor at his back. “Was that-- did I interrupt some kind of re-enactment?” your savior asks, curiously examining the last remnants of the toxic fog. He turns to look at you with the same studious intensity, but your head is spinning. Did Bram conjure this man with some sort of latent magic? “You should sit down,” he declares, thrusting out his hand with the confidence of a commander. The man clearly wants you to take it, but your hesitation prompts him to give up and walk over to a cluster of rocks. “Here. Do you have something to eat?”

Bemused, you pick your way toward him, deflecting your ‘I usually have to forage for something to eat’ answer with a question of your own. “What’s your name, hero?”

The word turns up a shy little smile that flies like a joy-tipped arrow right through your chest armor. “Steve. Yours?”

“Well, Steve, you’ve shown up for a battle, but I’m still fighting a war.” There’s no more time for niceties. You walk past the rocks he’d suggested you rest on, and pick up a sturdy-looking walking stick. It’s safer to stay close to the stream, and you’ll need the stability. “You’re welcome to come?”

There’s a chance that this summoned savior will disappear soon. You only have so much physical strength left, and you can’t spend it like this.

Steve turns in a circle, taking in the trees, the stream, and you, then nods, squaring his shoulders. “All right.” He certainly doesn’t seem at ease here, and you wonder if he’s real, whether he was somewhere fighting with that shield of his before Bram’s magic plucked him away.

Truthfully, you’re afraid to ask, as if naming the magic will destroy its cohesion.

Instead you lead the way along the uneven stones and brush that edge the stream, and he follows in clearly baffled silence. Sometimes you pause to adjust your armor or fill up your canteen and catch his brow furrow as he looks around at your surroundings. Once, he lunged forward to steady your steps on a slippery stretch of rocks. The warmth of his hand through your many layers was enough to bring rare tears to your eyes.

It's been so long since you’ve been touched in comfort.

Steve sees the tears but can’t know their context. You’re not willing to tell him, so you speed your pace, and he remains silent. If he’s been summoned as support, you question what triggers the magic might use to determine you’re no longer in need. If it’s words shared, you’ll hold yours in reserve. If it’s help provided, you’ll labor beside him with every ounce of your remaining strength until you finally ask for that help. If it’s distance traveled… well, you can’t think about that now.

Countless birdcalls and shared silence later, the landscape starts angling up more, and the trees thin out.

“Oh,” Steve says. His stunned tone makes you stop and look back at him. “I came to the forest--a forest to retrace my steps, looking for the echoes of what we lost. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I’d do if I found that the dust of my lost friends had fertilized plants that their shadows never--” he faltered, and you make your way to him, powerless to help, desperate to try. 

You recognize this grief. It's the hopeless kind, where a person just stands desolate in the aftermath and looks for the signs of their own death.

“Steve--” 

“It’s not the same forest,” he interrupts, a catch in his voice. “That’s a mountain.” He tears his eyes from the now-revealed peak in the distance and looks at you, concern and an odd sort of exhilaration in his eyes. “I kept walking because I thought we’d eventually get where you’re going, but we won’t, will we? Not today. Where am I? When am I?”

“‘When’ is easy: my waking nightmare. ‘Where’ is tricky. Who’s to know you won’t be pulled back where you came from if I tell you?” You can’t keep the bitter fear from your voice.

Steve steps forward to look down at you with gentle kindness. He’s so handsome you can’t help but feel self-conscious, clad as you are in shapeless armor, sweating with the exertion of carrying Bram’s sword (actually heavy) and Bram’s vial (metaphorically heavy)-- but you drift closer to your unexpected savior, catching the earthy scent of his sweat. You can see the sheen of it on his forehead, and you lift your hand to draw a finger across and feel the moisture of it.

“You’re real,” you breathe, surprised despite the snake, despite his steady presence behind you for this stretch of your journey.

He moves his hand to touch the drops of freshwater that have spilled from your canteen, going as far as to taste the tip of his finger. “So are you.” As though realizing that’s an intimacy the two of you haven’t agreed on, he steps back and squares his shoulders, the picture of a warrior again, despite his lack of weapon. Perhaps he is the weapon. “So what’s the plan? Camp for the night?”

You sway on your feet at the thought (both that he’d put aside his own situation and at the idea of rest), but shake your head. “Micht will send something else soon. I must reach the base of the stream. Everything relies on that.”

He looks askance at the darkening sky, then back at you. “What would make you willing to camp?”

A promise that you won’t leave me! you scream in your mind. A look of determination crosses his face, and you realize you may not have spoken the words aloud, but your body language has done that for you. You pull in a breath to prevaricate, but he brushes past you, headed into the forest.

“There’s a clearing,” he calls out, a minute later.

“Steve, I can’t--”

“You can.”

A terrible, insidious, horrid thought crosses your mind: that Steve is not from Bram at all, but an illusion with the same purpose as all the others that Jovann Micht has sent you. That his attack is formed from trust this time, rather than fear.

The shape of Bram’s locket is the only thing you can think of to refute your fears, but couldn’t Micht have torn that knowledge from Bram before killing him?

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Steve can hold a lot of supplies in his ‘tek’ suit, as he calls it. He gives you a few dense grain bread things, full of dried fruit and nuts that revitalize you. While you eat he lights a fire for the two of you, meaning you can save your newly bolstered energy rather than using it for warmth-- and best of all, he has a strange silver blanket that seems to hold heat so much better than anything you’ve used at night, even the homemade blankets from your cabin. Despite all this, you find it hard to relax, and Steve can tell. You are reluctant to explain and thus relive the trauma that sent you into the forest, and he doesn’t elaborate on his own.

He seems surprised when you want to sleep right away. That surprise morphs to a quiet, concerned anger when you explain the thin agreement you have with your aggressor, that he’ll only kill you when you’re awake.

“That won’t happen,” he declares, and you believe him. Just like a parent who promises they’ll always protect you, his words have an unspoken caveat; ‘for as long as I’m here to stop it.’

It’s enough.

You wake with the light, finding to your surprise that Steve has slept at your side, his broad back acting as a wall between you and the dangers of the woods. It’s been a week since you’ve been able to lay still in the morning, but your respite is marred by a large worry: why hasn’t Micht sent something else? Had he sent his most fearsome conjurations early on in your journey because you’d been stronger? It would be like him to conserve his energy and insult you at the same time. If you die to something more mundane, that would just add to his narrative, after all. The alternative is that he knows about Steve, and his new plan is to create something fearsome enough to destroy them both.

“You’re barely breathing,” Steve rumbles.

Selfishly, you want him to turn over. You want a memory to cherish when he’s gone. Just once, you'd had someone lying beside you whose sole purpose was to ensure your safety.

He does roll over. He’s no less real for it, and that thought lets you release everything you’d held back since Bram, since the village, since the slain, tortured lamb that was the harbinger of all the horrors that followed.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls you to his chest and lets you cry.

The next attack comes within sight of the glacial moraine. You were right. Micht had sent his worst to finish you. 

Steve pulls his shield from his back as soon as you pass through a group of boulders and see the creature. It’s twice as tall as he is, a four-legged monstrosity with the same number of snarling heads. Each serpent-like head is riddled with teeth, and like snakes, they bob and weave easily, able to turn and react with lightning swiftness.

“Your sword, please,” Steve says grimly.

“It’s armored--”

“So am I.”

Adrenaline mixes with the magic surging inside you. “Listen. I have a thing to do. It’s all that matters,” you tell him breathlessly. “After that, I don’t care what happens. Do you hear me?”

He’s looking at the creature, and you can see his soldier’s mind. You watch the fear dwindle, replaced by bravery, and you cannot let that happen.

“Steve!” you beg-- and he looks at you, still alert and ready to fight. “This was always going to end one way, okay? I just need you to--” The thing screeches with many voices, each wielding a knife that slices away some of your resolve.

You swallow hard and start taking off any extra weight, dropping your canteen, the sheathed dagger at your back, even the heavy brigandine leather that covers your blouse. It isn’t a match for a hydra’s teeth and claws anyway, and you must be fast.  

“I need to get to the base of the stream. That monster is here to stop me.” It probably isn’t. If Micht knew you bear this potion, he’d have long ago crushed you into paste and taken it for himself. “Don’t you dare lose your fear!”

Steve laughs ruefully. “I wondered if you would remember that.”

“Something sent you to me, and this is why. If there’s any justice, it should send you back, once I succeed.” The words stick in your throat, but you get them out.

“It’s a hydra,” Steve says with a hatred in his voice you didn’t think he was capable of. “I was created for this.”

You both turn to face the horrible creature. Steve lifts the sword and you ready yourself to run.

“Wait,” Steve says, a manic happiness in his eyes. He steps close and dips his head, kissing you. It’s awkward, with the sword and shield held wide at his sides, but that just makes it more real. “Go get him.”

Then he charges toward the beast.

You’d planned to wait until the two were fully focused on each other, but every fragment of magic in your body is screaming for you to help Steve. You tamp that down and hold still, certain that the hydra will only focus on Steve if bloodlust blinds it to your existence.

That’s even harder when there are multiple sets of eyes to look for you.

Steve makes first contact, roaring up and smashing his shield against the first head that lunges toward him. The thing reels back in obvious surprise, the injured head lolling to the side. The other heads rear up, and you take the moment to run far to the side, sticking to the treeline, even though it means farther to run. You weave between trees, catching glimpses of the battle but always hearing it. Screech follows screech follows the smash of metal against armored skin, over and over and over.

Just as you’re forced to cross into the rockfield, the hydra lets out an agonized scream, and you risk a look over. Steve’s holding his shield protectively above himself as he hacks at the two heads he’d sliced from the hydra. He’s panting from exertion, and as you watch, magic bubbles at the sliced necks, growing two new snarling heads from each stump. They sink down to the body of the beast and then stretch back out as individual, fully-realized necks right in front of your eyes.

You can’t send any power to Steve, not yet. Instead, you send it to your own legs, and the burst of resulting speed tears through the remaining distance. You reach into your shirt--

“You could have given it to me right away, foolish child.”

“Liar!” you spit at your enemy, furious and fragile. “You wanted this.” Of course he’d known. Micht had always loved theatrics.

“You’re right. That’s quite a guardian you’ve found for yourself,” Jovann Micht muses, leaning casually back against a large boulder. He’s standing between you and the stream.

You’re done with this. One way or another.

“Move.”

“I don’t think so.” He moves towards you, confident, commanding. “Hand it over.”

Behind you, the screeching gets louder, and oddly, Micht stumbles sideways, hissing. You risk a look over your shoulder and see that Steve’s sliced off more of the creature-- a leg this time. It brings the deadly heads closer to him, and you can’t watch.

Micht has conjured a walking stick that he’s now leaning on with a vicious look of delight on his face. “I prefer an intelligent adversary.”

He doesn’t mean you.

He’s always underestimated you. Everyone does.

Your fingers close around a vial, and you pull it free. It’s been shaken up by your headlong run, as evidenced by the blue glowing light.

“If you want this, you have to catch me.”

Your burst of speed still sings in your veins, and you start to run-- toward the hydra, not the stream. Gathering up all of your magic, you hurl it toward the back legs of the hydra, meaning to destroy them and hopefully disable Micht, if your hunch about the connection between them is correct.

The fireball hits home. The ground shakes as the terrible beast falls sideways, all seven heads turning to assess the damage. One catches fire, its agonized scream piercing your ears even at this distance. You can’t see Steve, but the desperate flailing of the inflamed head soon spreads the fire. 

You hook around, satisfied. Micht is in a heap not far from where you’d left him, recognizable by his signature blood-red suit. All that’s left is to get as close to the headwaters as you can. Bram had confided in you about the rip current that swirls right at its base, sucking the water down into a secondary stream that he’d helped the village tap into.

It serves as the drinking water for the whole valley, surfacing down past your former home and bubbling down to the sea, or so it’s said.

If you can get even half of Bram’s concoction into there--

A powerful blow knocks you to your feet, and you lose your grip on the vial. Dazed, you struggle to your knees, watching as a hand curls around the vial.

Get up! You have to be convincing! UP!

You’re unsteady as hell, but you lean into that, begging with a suddenly raw throat for Micht to stop. Your magic is almost gone again, but you grit your teeth and start for the vial. Behind it is your goal, the origin of the stream. Just ten strides, and he’ll think you’re giving up and throwing yourself in instead. Eight strides…

A rough hand curls around your neck and pulls the true vial from your bodice before shoving you to the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Steve roars. Through tears, you can see him running toward the two of you. He swings his arm, releasing his shield. 

Micht stands triumphant with the vial, unstoppering it in preparation to drink. It’s all of your worst fears realized, and the moment seems to hang in time, more misery for you to experience right before he kills you face to face, just as he’s always wanted.

Steve’s shield smashes into Micht’s midsection, knocking him backwards. The vial flies up, its contents fanning out in a glowing blue rain over Jovann Micht. Everywhere it lands, white lightning and red flames erupt. He’s screaming, you’re screaming, thunder and agony crashes all around you, until finally, he’s gone.

The silence is oppressive. It’s as though your blood’s stopped pumping, the air’s trapped in your lungs, and your muscles are frozen solid. The pressure builds until Steve stabs the bloody sword into the ground beside you and slumps over to rest his hands on his knees.

“We won.”

Your body's working again, but you don’t know whether to feel happiness or horror. “Yeah.”

Both of you are exhausted, the kind of bone-weary that isn’t possible without having experienced something unspeakable. The smell of burnt hydra is horrendous though, so Steve pushes to get as far away as you can before collapsing beside the placid stream. You let your hands dangle in the frigid glacial meltwater, needing to feel something bad that isn’t horrible.

“Don’t fall in. I’m too wiped to go back for the rest of your armor, and that’s a white shirt.”

He’s speaking in riddles, and honestly it's the first regular thing Steve’s said to you since… all of that. “What?”

“The water makes it transpar-- Never mind.” Embarrassment drips from his words, and it’s enough to make you scooch around so you can see him.

Steve’s black armor hides most of the blood, but he’s almost drenched in it. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him, and he’s wrapping a once-pristine white bandage around a gash on his leg, pausing every few revolutions to rest. Noticing your scrutiny, he offers you a weak smile.

“That fireball was something.”

“So’s your swordsmanship.” You search your resources and make a decision. “Want me to heal that?”

“What?” he says, then laughs, the sound genuinely joyful, though astonished. “I just fought a real hydra. Did you know that’s the second bad guy that’s disintegrated right in front of me? Of course you can heal. This place is… this place is something.”

His voice breaks on ‘something.’ You don’t know him very well, but the trauma you’ve shared tells you he needs a moment. Avoiding eye contact, you reach out, sending your magic in a gentle golden trickle across the ground between you. It slides smoothly over his boots and up the fabric of his trousers, finally sinking into his wound. You send a little extra, too, even though it makes your chest ache with warning. It’ll soothe his mind, and that’s worth it.

That done, you turn back to the water, staring past your fractured reflection into the stream’s shallow depths. Across the stretch of rocks and bubbling froth a dragonfly twists and dips, reacting to shifts in the air too subtle for you to notice. It’s a reminder that not everything’s been affected by the life or death struggle you’d just experienced. It helps, so much so that you don’t notice that Steve’s come to sit beside you until he speaks.

“Did you know that dragonflies are a symbol of grief and rebirth?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “Part of their life cycle is underwater, I guess, and the story goes that each one reaches a point where they need to surface. They each promise they’ll come back and tell the others what they find up there, but--”

“--but they can’t. They’re trapped either side,” you breathe.

“Trapped, yeah, but not dead.” The word is ragged, and you look up at him, even though it hurts your neck. “I lost friends in my forest. They turned to dust. We lost.”

Your hand is freezing, but his armor is thick. You reach out and squeeze his leg, and Steve stays still, clearly moved to quiet reflection.

“There’s a second life, is the moral. I don’t know if this is mine, but I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

You don’t dare hope, but you pour yes please into your expression. He smiles and pats his chest.

“There’s a pocket here. When I first showed up, you threw a locket--” he shakes his head curtly, enough to stop you from speaking. “I only caught a glimpse, but it looks like my shield.”

You squeeze his ankle, and determination hardens his expression.

“I think you might-- I think this place might need me. Do you have enough magic to, I don’t know… freeze it? Put it in stasis so it doesn’t send me back? I know just where I’d like to put it.”

You feel brave, but it’s not due to a lack of hope this time. This time, you have an abundance of hope.

“I’d like that very much.”

[levans44]

Apartment #3 Masterlist

pairing: steve rogers x undercover!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff

summary: as an undercover agent at SHIELD, her newest assignment involves moving in across the hall from her target. she's strictly ordered to keep her distance—no personal contact besides the absolutely necessary. the only issue? her new target neighbor turns out to be Captain America.

excerpt:

Jessica Grace Parker December 4th, 1989 569 Leaman Place Apt. #3, Brooklyn, NY 11201 Registered Nurse NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital

It’s the undercover alias she’s been assigned as a member of SHIELD’s Special Operations unit. The mission objective was rather simple—monitor the target and report updates as necessary.

She’s gone undercover more than a dozen times, so it’s not the details of the assignment or the temporary relocation she’s concerned about.

It’s just that her target was well… more unusual than most.

author's note: an idea that's been living in my head ever since steve asked sharon for that cup of coffee in their apartment hallway. as a SHIELD agent, the reader's real name has been [REDACTED] to preserve anonymity.

my masterlist

Chapter 1 - the mission

Chapter 2 - the move-in

Chapter 3 - the breakup

Chapter 4 - the sick day

Chapter 5 - the package

Chapter 6 - the brownies

Chapter 7 - the day off

[stucky-headcanon-bot]

🏕️🌻