#steve rogers/reader

[happy74827]

Let Me In

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Steve is persistent in a lot of things. But when he catches fear in your eyes, he wants nothing more than to help you heal.

WC: 2230

Category: Hurt/Comfort {TW — Implications of SA}

The “who did this to you” trope has my whole heart.

『••✎••』

Seeing the pain in Steve’s eyes was more than enough to make your own heartache. The confusion on his face turned into a deep-set frown as his hands hovered over your body, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that if he touched you, the rest of you would crumble to the ground.

The silence between you was deafening, yet Steve said nothing. He just stared at you. You felt his gaze move from the top of your head and down the length of your body. His jaw clenched tightly when your expression faltered, and you tried your hardest not to show the pain you were feeling.

He wasn’t even reaching toward you in the first place; he was reaching for the water that was sitting by his punching bag, but the damage was done the second his hand came into your view.

Out of all the things that could’ve happened, flinching from Steve… of all people was the worst thing possible. The look of hurt on his face was enough to make your own heart drop to your stomach.

You knew he would never hurt you; he would never cause you pain. It was Steve, for goodness sake; he was a big teddy bear who wouldn't cause harm unless absolutely necessary. He had the biggest heart you'd ever seen. And yet, here you were, cowering away from him.

When his hand came into your peripheral, you jumped back, almost tripping over yourself as you stared up at him. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

It was so loud. So, so loud.

Steve, ever the hero, immediately pulled back. The water was forgotten and all of his focus was on you now. He even tried to reach out to you again, but seeing the flinch on your face was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He didn’t know what to do.

Steve was the guy who knew exactly what to do in every situation. He was Captain America.

Captain America.

But seeing you cower away from him made him feel helpless.

His hands were still hovering, his brow was still furrowed, and his lips were set in a firm line. He wanted to touch you, to hold you, but he was so scared that you would push him away and run.

It broke his heart.

The last time he saw you, you were happy and laughing and smiling. But now, it was like someone had taken all the happiness from your face. The smile was gone. Your laughter was gone. The light was gone. And Steve hated it.

He hated it with every fiber of his being.

He was the first to speak. A small whisper. A whisper that would've been missed if you weren't hanging onto every single one of his movements.

"What happened?"

He took a small step forward and watched as you tensed up, your fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed thickly and shook your head.

He deserved the truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.

You didn’t want to tell him. Not after you had flinched away from him.

"I’m fine, Steve."

He gave a low hum and looked you over, trying to gauge the situation and find the best way to approach this. He needed to get you talking, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

"You don't look fine."

The way his voice came out, it was like a breath. His words were soft and comforting. His eyes never once left yours, not even to see where he was stepping.

You wanted to scoff. You wanted to tell him that you were perfectly fine and that he had nothing to worry about. You wanted to lie and say that the flinch was an accident, a momentary lapse in judgment.

You wanted to lie.

But you couldn't. Not to Steve.

Never to Steve.

"Who did this to you?"

It was the way he said it. The tone he used. It wasn't accusatory; it wasn't harsh. It was gentle. It was caring. It was full of concern. Full of love.

But the question brought you up short.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze burning through you, his worry evident. You could feel him staring right into your soul.

You knew he didn't mean to ask it, but the question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could pull it back.

You swallowed thickly and looked down at the floor, not being able to bring yourself to meet his eye. You could see his boots; you could see his toes.

But not his face. You didn’t want to see his face. You couldn’t handle the concern.

You could hear him shuffling closer, his hand reaching out slowly and hesitantly. When his finger brushed against your arm, you jerked back, but he didn't let you get too far.

His grip was gentle. So gentle, but it was enough to hold you. Just enough.

It was just your name, just a whisper, but the way he said it made you weak. The way he breathed it out had your knees shaking. You could feel the tears burning the back of your throat; you could feel them gathering in your eyes. They were going to spill over soon, and Steve was the only one who was going to be there to see it. No one else.

"Tell me"

There was a moment where you wanted to fight it. To shove him off and run to your room. To lock yourself away and never come out. But when his thumb rubbed over your cheek, it was the moment that you broke.

Tears spilled over. They flowed freely down your cheeks, dripping from your chin.

Your breath came in harsh pants.

Steve's hands moved to your shoulders. He held you firmly yet gently. His thumbs rub slow circles on the top of your arms.

“Damn it.” You breathed out. “Damn it! Of all the people I slip in front of, why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been Tony? Or Nat? Or Sam? Or hell, even Bruce? It had to be you, didn't it, Rogers? It had to be the guy I was trying to avoid. The one person I didn't want to know.”

Your rant was cut off when you felt Steve's fingers under your chin. He tipped your head back and forced you to look at him. He looked down at you with those soft blue eyes, the ones you had been trying to avoid since the start.

They were the only thing that could ever get through to you. They were the only thing that could make your walls come down.

His hand was gentle. It was like he was trying to hold a piece of glass. If he pressed too hard, you would break. And god, did you want to break. You wanted to feel the release, the freedom.

You wanted to feel something, anything other than this pain.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out. "I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize," He murmured. "Just talk to me."

"Steve-"

"Please." The word was a broken plea. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You bit your bottom lip and looked down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze.

"Please." He repeated. "Let me help."

"It's not that easy." You whispered. You couldn't believe that you were even considering telling him.

"Yes, it is. I'm right here."

You were going to regret this. You didn't want to, but you were going to.

"I can't." You shook your head, a sob rising in your chest. "I can't, Steve. Please don't make me."

“Then tell me how I can help you."

You didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly tell him how to help?

"I- I don't know."

He sighed and stepped back. For a second, you thought he was going to leave, that he was done with you, but with the way his gaze never left yours, you knew that wasn’t the case.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you behind him.

You let him. You were too tired to fight back.

Too tired.

Too weak.

He led you out of the gym and through the tower, his pace never once slowing. Not until the both of you were in front of your bedroom door. Then he released his hold on you and stood back, looking at you. His jaw was still clenched, and his hands were balled into fists. You didn't know if it was because of the fact that someone had hurt you or the fact that you were hiding the truth from him.

"Let me in." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If not today, then some other time. Let me in."

"Why?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Because I care."

"Why?" You repeated, your eyes narrowing. "Why do you care so much?"

"I know what it’s like," He murmured. "To feel the need to hide from the world. To feel the need to bottle everything up inside. You don’t need to do this alone. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it is, you can talk to me. Let me in. Tell me the truth."

You shook your head and turned, reaching for the handle, but Steve was faster. His hand shot out and curled around your wrist. He kept you in place.

"Please." He murmured.

The desperation was evident in his voice. The sincerity was, too.

“You want the name that much?” You questioned, keeping your gaze trained on the door.

It was better than facing him.

It was better than seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

It was better than seeing the pity.

It was easier to hide the emotions behind the door, not having to see his reaction.

"I want you to be honest with me. I want you to talk to me. If you’re comfortable giving me the name, then that's your choice. It's always your choice. I won't force you to do anything, but I want to help."

"It's a little late for that," You scoffed, yanking your hand out of his grasp.

He stepped forward, crowding you against the door. You could feel his warmth against your back.

"I didn't know." He murmured, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "Had I known, I would've put a stop to it."

"There's nothing you could've done."

"I could've killed him." He murmured. "That's what I could've done.”

“You don’t kill people, Rogers. It’s not who you are. You know that.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I would stop at nothing to keep you safe. Whoever this is, they aren’t going to lay another hand on you. I promise. They aren’t going to hurt you again, not if I can help it. You have my word."

You could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes. God, did he have to say such sweet things?

You weren’t sure if it was because he was being a good friend or because he wanted something more, but whatever it was, it had you melting.

"I didn't mean to push you away." You whispered, resting your forehead against the cool metal of the door.

"I know."

"It was instinct. I couldn't-"

"I know."

"How do I fix this?"

"You don't. It takes time. Healing isn't an instant process. It took me a long time to get back to normal… somewhat normal.”

“But—” You began, but the look on Steve's face told you that arguing wasn't going to do you any good.

So you stopped.

"It takes time." He repeated. "But I'm not going anywhere. You can take all the time in the world, and I'll be here waiting. Whenever you're ready."

"I want it to go away."

"I know. Believe me, I know." He murmured.

You felt him shift behind you. His hand pressed flat against your back and rubbed slow circles, the heat seeping through the thin material of your shirt.

You had never felt so safe, not even when you were a child.

Steve's presence alone was enough to calm the anxiety running rampant through your body. You weren't sure what had caused this particular attack, but now that Steve was here, you were hoping it would pass soon.

"What do you need?" He asked softly, his hand running up and down the length of your back.

"You." You croaked out, the words almost getting lost in the fabric of his shirt.

"You have me."

"Promise?"

"Promise," He replied without missing a beat.

You took a deep breath and leaned further into his touch.

"It'll go away soon," He assured. "We can sit down and talk about it when you're ready."

"What if I never want to talk about it?"

"Then we won't. You set the pace, okay? Just… please, don't shut anyone out. Don't shut me out. We— I care about you."

You nodded your head, unable to form the words you wanted to say.

The feeling was mutual. You cared about him too. And maybe, just maybe, you would be willing to open up about this. Maybe even share the name.

Steve does throw a good punch, after all.

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Happy Now? | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers x Reader | Drabble - 500words

If Steve thinks he's getting away with giving you a shitty mission he has another thing coming…

Warnings: Bratty reader & Brat Tamer Steve, implied previous sexual content, kissing

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Captain Rogers & Agent Brat AU | Steve Rogers

You followed Steve out of the briefing room, taking an extra half step for each of his long strides.

“Get back here!” You shouted, ignoring the ringing echo of your voice in the wide metal atrium of the Avengers tower.

“Agent, please take your mission pack and study it quietly.” He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of his newly bearded cheeks, stubble that had grown out during your last mission together and the following two weeks stuck in a safe house in the Alps.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m talking to you.” You grabbed a pen from another passing agent and chucked it as hard as you could at his retreating back, internally screaming when it merely bounced off of his shield.

From the incline of his head you were almost 100% sure he was laughing at you.

Picking up your pace you followed him away from the meeting rooms and across the building to the offices, chasing after him as he strode past your colleagues, touching his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute.

You caught up to him outside of the lifts, watching him bounce on his toes slightly as he whistled to himself.

“Steve!” You muscled past the other waiting agents to stand directly in front of him, crossing your arms and glaring up at him in frustration.

“Oh, hello Agent.” He smiled, “lovely to see you here too, going up?”

The doors pinged behind you and Steve moved you backwards into the waiting lift.

“This one’s full.” He said, firmly, blocking anyone else from entering, his smile morphed from his PR friendly pose to the hungry grin you were used to. He said nothing, simply watched you as you paced back and forth in front of the rapidly changing view as the lift shot up to the living quarters.

“Steve, you can’t bench me, you know I’m a good agent, I don’t understand it, we just got back from another mission. Do you think because we’re sleeping together I can’t perform as well as other agents? Or as well as I did before?” You ranted, waving your hands and barely stopping to look at him until he blocked your path.

“It’s hot when you talk back.” He whispered, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Rogers you had better not be trying something right now.” You shoved at him, but he caught your hands and pulled you back, crushing his lips to yours. His kiss was fierce, burning as his beard rubbed against the soft skin of your cheeks, a reminder of how much closer you’d been before returning to the bustle of the tower. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck before remembering your ire and pushing him away again.

His smile was still plastered to his face, only slightly ruffled by your rejection.

“Seriously, you can’t bench me and then -”

“I told you to check your mission pack.”

“Steve, stop being an asshole.”

“Honey, stop being a brat”

He pulled the black folder from your hands and flipped past the first few pages to the confidential file fitted snugly between the usual boring beige pages of desk work that he’d handed out earlier.

“Happy now?”

You nodded, jumping back into his arms and placing kisses over his bearded cheeks

[i-mushi]

I wrote a thing called Daddy Fantasies

First time doing the Daddy Dom thing, thanks @leucineinthesky for starting me down this rabbit hole.

Read on Ao3!

“Come on, we’re going.”

“Do we have to?” You wiggled down into your spot in the couch, loathe to get up. Sure, you’d been planted here most of the day, but Alpine was curled up next to you, and you had your next episode cued up already. You’d made the perfect indent for your butt and a nest with your blanket.

“Yes, we do.” Steve’s chin tilted up just the slightest, and now he was looking down his chin at you, the corners of his mouth pulling down. You felt your belly swoop with a mix of shame and arousal. You was being a brat. “They took care of Alpine while we were all gone for the weekend, this is the least we can do.”

“You’re right,” you said, failing to hide your pout even as you finally started to untuck yourself from the blankets. Steve offered a hand to leverage you up from the couch, tugging you into him when you were standing. You pressed your forehead to his firm chest to hide your grumbling, even though you knew this was the right thing to do.

“They’ll be a treat for you when we get home,” he promised, brushing his lips lightly over your temple. You looked up, and he flashed you a small, indulgent smile. “But we’re staying at least two hours.”

There went any chance of staying up late to finish one more episode. Steve was relentless when he wanted to be, and getting enough sleep was one of his things. “Okay. I guess I should put on a bra.”

“It’s a lazy night in with an old friend,” he replied, hand sliding down to your ass in the leggings you’d been lounging in and giving you a squeeze. “A sweatshirt is fine.” Your smile turned a bit impish, and he gave you a swat on the ass before you could make a smart remark. “You’ll definitely need shoes though.”

As nice as it had been to see your friend, you were glad the short visit was over. You said your goodbyes and walked hand-in-hand to the car, Steve’s big palm dwarfing yours. Steve opened the passenger door but didn’t let go of your hand when you went to go inside, a silent order to stop. You turned to him, and he was looking down at you with a flicker of pride in his eyes. He squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead softly. “Good girl.”

A shudder went down your spine and heat pooled in your belly, the pleasure of being good, being right, making him happy thrumming through you as you got into the car. Steve could make your mind go fuzzy with just a few words.

As soon as he had the car going, his hand landed on your thigh, the weight of it grounding, as he turned out of the drive and headed down the road.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“No, you were right,” you admitted, voice low. “I’m glad we went.”

His thumb started to rub your leg lightly, just a gentle brush of his callouses against the thin fabric of your leggings. “You’re being very good tonight.”

“You did say a reward might be involved,” you reminded him, biting your lip to hide a slightly nervous giggle.

“I did, didn’t I?” Steve smirked at you, glancing over as they pulled up to a red light. “What does the good girl want? Ice cream? A massage?”

You put your hand over his, lacing your fingers together. It was always hard for you to ask directly for what you wanted. You were feeling brave tonight after all this praise though. “You, tonight?” You swallowed nervously and hurried on, “And I know we just sent a message to Bucky two days ago, but can we send another? He didn’t respond to the last one.”

The last few sentences came out in an embarrassed jumble, trying to hide your real request. Steve or Bucky were the ones who usually initiated anything, it just seemed to come so naturally to them. Your therapist had been encouraging you to ask for what you wanted, and while it was hard to put into words exactly what you’d been fantasizing about, you could start with this.

…Maybe later you’d ask to be called good girl more. Or to call him—

“You only have to ask, sweetie,” Steve said, flashing you an encouraging smile before turning back to the road. “And I know he’s on minimal contact, but I have an idea of what we can send him. Something that won’t be a problem with security.”

-------------

While Steve or Bucky were away on missions, any messages from home had to be heavily encrypted, and the words run through software to detect any data breaches or classified information. You had sent plenty of short messages to Steve and Bucky before while they were on missions, but this time Steve wanted to send a message without words.

“Ooooooh St—” Steve’s hand clamped on your jaw, shutting your mouth with firm, gentle pressure that had your heart racing with excitement. He had you rolled on one side, facing the phone set up on the nightstand to record audio, while he laid stretched out behind you, his hard cock pressed to your back.

“What did I say? No words,” he breathed against your ear. Then he bit the lobe and released your jaw, leaving you panting as he caught your nipple between two fingers and tugged.

“Mmmm, oh, oh…” You whined, zings of mixed pain/pleasure lighting you up until he finally released the abused nub to slide his hand down further, rough fingers scraping over your soft belly. You hissed as he slipped two thick fingers over your pussy to rub your clit.

“Good and wet,” he rumbled, biting against your neck when you gasped at the sucking noise of his fingers between your nether lips. Your skin was flushed with heat, and you squirmed with thrilled embarrassment when you opened your eyes to see the big red record button flashing on the phone screen. Your cunt spasmed with need and you moaned brokenly. Steve groaned low in answer, lightly thrusting against your back, smearing precum into your skin.

Your rough panting turned harsher as he squeezed your breast and penetrated you with one finger. You hissed when he started to flick his thumb rhythmically against your clit in time with the gentle thrusts. “Ah, ah, ah—” You wanted to say his name but cut it off into a wordless moan as a second finger joined the first. The stretch ached in the best of ways, his calloused fingers rubbing all the right spots inside you. Your toes curled as he kept thrumming your clit, driving that heat inside you hotter and hotter and your voice higher and higher.

“Louder, sweetie,” he murmured against your ear, and you shamelessly lifted your leg over his hip, spreading yourself wider down there. Now the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of you pounded in your ears, the burning need to come rising inside you. Steve started to roll and pinch your nipple with his other hand as a third finger joined the others, and you could barely hear your constant panting, whining, and breathless moaning over the roar in your ears.

Your hips jerked with every thrust, trying to match his pace, frantic to find the peak. Steve kept up the relentless pressure as his mouth moved back to your ear, voice so soft you could barely hear him with your blood pounding with your pulse. “Imagine Bucky listening to this, baby girl. Coming so beautifully, so loud. Say his name, sweetie. Be a good girl and come for your daddies.”

It didn’t matter how Steve knew; you came apart with a cry of Bucky’s name, shaking and moaning as your daddy milked you through it, safe and wanted and tenderly pushed over the edge in his big arms as pleasurable fire burned through you. Your stuttering cries and groans finally gave way to panting gasps for air, like your lungs had seized you’d come so hard. As you laid there on the bed trying to catch your breath, brain fuzzy with pleasure and a happy confusion that Steve had known, there was the unmistakable sound of slurping and licking as Steve cleaned his three fingers. Red bloomed on your cheeks, but you barely had time to consider that before Steve slid his weeping, rock hard cock between your thighs and encouraged you to tighten your legs.

He grunted as he started to thrust, breath harsh against your ear, and you could hear the hot sound of him sliding against your skin, still wet from your release. You felt a new wave of heat fill you as he ground against your clit, and you rocked your hips with him until the bed squeaked beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured quietly, hand tight on your hip, never enough to bruise but strong enough to remind you he easily could.

“O-ohhh—” Steve kissed you before you could think about saying any other words, swallowing them whole so the audio could only pick up the filthy sounds of your kissing, the wet squelch between your thighs, and the creak of the bed with each thrust.

It didn’t take him long to finish, panting hard until he was finally spurting and moaning your name. Steve coated the sheets and your pussy with his hot cum, and you groaned too, gasping out his name as you came a second time. Both of you collapsed after that, Steve laying half on top of you, a welcome weight, until finally he reached an arm out for the phone.

“Night, Buck,” he said, and hit stop. He dropped the phone on the nightstand and curled his arm around you, cuddling you to his chest. “You okay, baby girl?”

“Yeah,” you said, sated to the bones in a way you didn’t know you could be. A way you suspected came from certain fantasies that had gone unfulfilled until tonight. You almost didn’t want to ask to break the moment, but as both of your breaths started to settle you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep without asking. “Steve, how… how did you…”

“Been thinking about it for a while. Buck noticed it first, the dynamic. What you need. To be cared for, small. You liked it, right?”

“So much,” you breathed out, heart pounding hard at what Steve was saying. You grabbed his hand on your stomach, and he kissed your cheek.

“Good girl.”

A ripple of pleasure went through you, and Steve’s chuckle was so low you could feel the vibration against your back.

“Buck’ll be mad I didn’t wait for him to get back. But we’ll make it up to him, won’t we?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

[wednesdaynn]

my mind is reeling w/ innapropriate thoughts of the marauders, thor odinson and steve rogers... so hopefully ill have the energy to write a few one-shots during my break next week (i swear im a lesbian guys) (can you be sexually and romantically attracted to women, and only sexually attracted to men? is that thing?!?!)

[shedobewritingalittle]

Fourth of July

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Bucky visits the cemetery the first since Steve funeral, but he isn’t the only one that’s mourning on the Fourth of July.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: R

Warnings: Grief, self-harm, depression, death, mourning, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Listen, this has been in the works for a year, but I’ve been redoing this whole time. I wrote it listening to “Fourth of July” by Sufjan Stevens. Slight AU because I like to think that Bucky didn’t know that Steve was gonna do that shit. 

It was humid in the city, making it feel a lot hotter than it actually was. He had started to sweat under the sweater he had pulled on and he tried his best to ignore the discomfort. The slight breeze made the various red, white, and blue decorations flap in the wind and carried the scent of someone grilling nearby. Hot dogs, he thinks.

As the sun started to set, the smell of gunpowder started to fill the air as the streetlights started to flicker on. Children ran past him as he walked on the sidewalk, sparklers held high in their hands. They giggled and laughed, their families yelling at them to be more careful. The man just keeps on walking, quickly crossing the street as soon as his destination came into the view.

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his cap covered head down as he walks into graveyard, gravel crunching under his feet. He hasn't been here since the funeral and he didn't really want to come today, but he knew he should.

A part of him still wanted to scream at his best friend, wants to ask him what was so special about Peggy Carter that he had to go and upend so many lives. The other part of him just wants to stand there and cry, mourn the loss of his best friend, his brother, the only tie to he had to his old life.

Yet, someone had beat him to it to that second one.

He didn't expect her to be kneeling there in front of the shining marble headstone, her body as still as the statues that dotted the cemetery. She doesn't hear him, or possibly just chooses to ignore that someone else was here to mourn over the same person today. He can see that she's saying something, but even with his super hearing he can't hear it.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, not knowing exactly what to do in this situation. Should he let her be, let her mourn? Should he call Sam and ask her to come sit with her? Raynor hadn't prepared him for this. He was barely getting his own feelings under control, so how was he supposed to help anyone else? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He had only met her a handful of times, with most of them being before a fight. The first time that he had met her, the first time he actually can fully remember meeting her, was after the mess in Berlin, when his arm was caught in a vice because none of them knew if he was still Bucky. She had smiled at him and said in a saccharine sweet voice, “I will not hesitate to put you six feet under if you do that shit again, understood?”. It was after that comment, after Sam and Steve had both look at her almost in shock, that the latter had introduced her as his wife.

Before he knows it, his feet are carrying him towards her, his footsteps almost silent on the grass until a twig snaps and announces his approach. Y/N's back straightens, her body tensing. Bucky's feet don't stop though, not until he is standing right behind her. She keeps her eyes locked on his headstone, tears having left black colored tracks on her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Bucky questions, immediately kicking himself for how stupid his question was. Of course she wasn't fucking alright. The woman was crying at her lover's grave on the man's birthday. You're a fucking idiot, James Buchanan Barnes. He watches as her eyes shut and she tilts her chin upward every so slightly, letting out a shaky breath. In the distance, fireworks go off, shimmering in the sky.

"You don't have to say anything-It's okay." He quickly replies, knowing that he wouldn't want to open up to someone that he hardly knew. Y/N sighs, her eyes fluttering open and she looks back down at the slab of marble. In front of it was dozens and dozens of offerings. Flags, small shields, candles, plastic red, white, and blue flowers, action figures of the man himself-all left by people they didn't know.

"I didn't think anyone was going to be here. I thought that since it was getting dark that everyone was going to be watching the fireworks." She tells him, her eyes scanning over the words on the headstone over and over again, as if the name was going to change, "I guess I was wrong."

"I didn't want him to be alone on his birthday." She cuts through his thoughts with a knife, stopping him in his tracks. Her voice sounds small, almost faraway as she continues, "I didn't want to come, didn't want to be here, but-but, I knew he shouldn't be alone on his birthday. No one should be alone on their birthday."

Red explodes in the sky, bathing them both in scarlet. Another flies past it- a green one this time-and bursts as the other fades, just as Bucky takes a seat beside her. He gives her ample space  as he tries to get comfortable on the grass.

"No, no he shouldn't." Bucky echoes as he picks up a small action figure of Steve. The eyes are slightly crooked and the colors of his suit have been discolored by the sun, "Did he ever let you throw him a party? I tried, but the punk never let me. Always told me that we shouldn’t waste money on shit like that."

"A couple of times, but nothing too big. Just something small, no gifts, no frills." She answers, a faint smile appearing on her face, "Always gave me something to do. I've never been patriotic."

A bright white firework exploded in the sky, making it look like a thousand more stars had suddenly burst into existence before flickering out.

"You aren't patriotic but you married him?" He questions, holding the action figure in the air. She her smile grows ever so slightly as she shakes her head, her eyes turning towards the sky. Bright blue illuminates her, turning her cobalt for a few seconds.

"I see the irony in it too, don't worry."

There's a moment of silence between them. He looks away from her, his eyes focusing back on the headstone in front of them. The noise of the city celebrating still sounds then, the whistles of the fireworks flying into the sky, the cheers of happy children.

She had disappeared after the funeral.

No more public engagements, no more paparazzi shots. Sam had said that she hadn't been calling, hadn't talked to him at all since they laid Steve to rest. The lights were always off at the house she used to share with him in Brooklyn, but they knew she was home.

She didn't have anywhere else to go.

Her friends were either dead or spread to the wind. Her team was gone, splintered far beyond repair. She would’ve had her husband, but he had made his choice and now she sleeps in a bed that’s too big for her, in a house that’s too quiet, too empty.

"Do you think-Do you think we are allowed to be mad at him?" Her voice is no louder than a whisper when she decides to speak. Her eyes once more on the slab of marble, looking at it like the man himself was sitting there with them. She continues, her eyes watery, "I don't-I've been trying not to be angry with him, but I can't."

"I think so. He-He kind of screwed us over, didn't he?" Bucky answers, turning his head to look at her once more. Her thumb was twisting her gold wedding band around her finger, trying to calm herself, rating to rein in her emotions. 

She was there was Steve came back, hair white and skin wrinkled. She hadn't said anything-No, she just looked at her husband, tears filling her eyes. There was no screaming, no sobbing, no real signs of any outward emotions other than her watery eyes. Steve had tried to talk, tried to explain himself, but she had just walked away. She knew what he did, where he had went. There was no point in arguing with him, with fighting over a choice he had already made so she didn’t. Bucky wonders if she had cried after that, if she had screamed into her pillow after being betrayed by the man she loved. 

He didn’t know that an oh so familiar numbness had started to taken a hold her as she had walked away from the situation. She doesn’t remember any of the drive home-she honestly doesn’t understand how she able to drive at all. The next few days were a blur-she didn’t leave the house, hell, she didn’t even leave her bed unless she had to.

It had taken four days for it to finally settle in, for the pain to crack through and force itself through that numbness. There had been a lot of crying, of screaming during that time. Shattered picture frames, broken dishes. She kept to herself, not wanting to take her anger out on anyone as she processed everything.

At the funeral, she didn't say much to anyone. Everyone's condolences were met with a small smile and nod. She had stood in between Sam and Bucky in the front pew. Her back was rigid, her head held high. Her makeup and hair done perfectly-she had been the dutiful wife and now it seemed like she was becoming the perfect little widow. For a second, Bucky had thought she was processing this all well-better than him, at least-until Sam suddenly grabbed her hand in the middle of someone's eulogy. She had been scratching the back of her hands until they were bloody and raw, her pale pink nails discolored by garnet.

Another firework screams its way into the sky, exploding and illuminating them in emerald for a brief moment. She shifts in the grass, drawing her knees into her chest, making her look smaller than she actually is.

"I miss him. I-I don't know if I should, but I miss him. I still love him." She announces, barely loud enough for him to hear, "No matter what he did, I still love him. I-I wish I didn't, I think it might make it all easier."

"I yelled at him, both Sam and I did. He tried to justify it, wanted Sam to convince you to forgive him." Bucky confesses, his eyes still on her. She turns her head to look at him, brows furrowed, “He didn’t understand why you were so angry with him.”

“I talked to him before he-He didn’t want me to be mad at him. He didn’t want to leave with us with in the middle of fight. Didn’t want to leave it like that. He couldn’t stand it when we fought and these past five years-God, it felt like that was all we did. Everything I did wasn’t good enough fir him.” She looks back down at the ground, fingers picking at the grass, “I kept askin’ him ‘Why?’ and he couldn’t give me an answer. He told me that he loved me, but he also loved her. He acted that’s all he needed to say.”

“I know he had a family with her. Had kids, grandkids, the whole shebang. He had told me-He told me that after we fixed everything-after we brought everyone back that we were gonna settle down like we always talked about, that we could start trying and God, I knew it sounded too good to be true.” Emotion is wrapping around her neck like a noose, making her words strained as tears start to roll down her cheeks, “And I wanted it so bad. I wanted a family with him, even though things were shit and he was pushing me away, I still wanted that. I thought-I thought that finally everything was okay and I feel like an idiot for believing it.”

Her words hang in the air above them, above his grave. They weighed heavily on Bucky, forcing his shoulders down. Steve had promised her a family, a quiet life-some semblance of normalcy and had ripped it away for what? For a woman he knew less than a year? Bucky had asked him if he had regret what he did and Steve hadn’t responded. He had just changed the subject, deciding to instead talk about the quality of his hospital food.

“You’re not an idiot. You didn’t-You didn’t know he was going to do this. None of us did.“ Bucky replies, his voice just as quiet as hers had been moments before. She just sits there, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Both of them just looked at the grave in front of them, a dozen different emotions flowing between the two.

The tears on her face have started to dry. In the distance they could hear music playing, people laughing, and celebrating. They continued to sit quietly in the cemetery, the buzzing of cicadas and fireworks turning into white noise.

-

"Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?

Why do you cry?

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

While it is light

Well, you do enough talk

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Tell me, what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

We're all gonna die"

[heyitsme1040]

The Ring of Time [s.r]

summary : Steve comes back to you after returning the infinity stones. He made a stop in the forties, and brought back something important for the both of you. 

pairings : Steve Rogers x Reader

warnings : None (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 530

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day seventeen of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘heirloom’.

“Be careful,” you whisper to Steve as you hug him before he goes to return the infinity stones. 

“I will,” he promised. “See you in a few minutes.”

You stepped away from the hug and stood next to Bucky. You watched as he stepped onto the pad, checking his watch. Between one breath and the next Steve disappeared. You shifted closer to Bucky, waiting on Steve to return. 

“Be honest with me?” You turned to face Bucky. 

“What’s up?” Bucky keeps his eyes focused on the pad. 

“Is he coming back?”

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but before he can Bruce says, “Here he comes. He’s back in three…two…one…now.”

He presses some keys at the control panel, but nothing happens. Your heart sinks, your biggest fear feeling real. Steve left you. You turn away from the pad, wiping at the tears that are starting to gather. You begin to walk away. 

“Wait,” Bucky places his hands on your shoulder. “He’s coming back.”

You try to force your way out of Bucky’s hold, “He’s not! He went back to the past, Bucky. He had the chance to live the life he missed out on. Why would he come back?” You shouted.

“Because you’re here,” you heard Steve’s voice. 

You turn around, surprised to see Steve stepping off of the pad. He takes long strides toward you, gently tugging you against him from Bucky’s hold. He tucks your head beneath his chin, wrapping his arms around you securely. You cry harder, holding onto him.

“I promised you it’d be a few minutes,” Steve comforted you. 

“Bruce was timing you. You didn’t come back when he calculated,” you rambled. 

“I had to make an extra stop before coming back.”

“Peggy?” 

“No,” Steve moved to look you in the eye. “Not Peggy.”

Steve’s tone alone let you know how serious he was being. 

You furrowed your brows, “Where did you go then?”  

Steve removed one hand from around you and reached into his pocket. “I had to get something I left in the forties.” Steve pulled out a beautiful set of rings, holding them out to you. “These were my parents’ rings. I wanted to get them back, so I could do this.”

Steve dropped to one knee in front of you and held your hands. You smiled, nodding as he spoke. 

“You’re it for me, sweetheart. I used to think I knew what I wanted out of life. Then I was frozen and awoke in a world I couldn’t recognize. Everything was different and I didn’t fit in this world anymore. I had no idea what I wanted out of life anymore. Then I met you, and everything made sense. The world didn’t look so foreign anymore, and I knew you were the one. So, would you do me the honor of becoming your husband?” Steve proposed.

“Yes,” you cupped his cheeks. “Absolutely yes!”

Steve leaned forward, connecting your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, kissing him back. You were faintly aware of the team clapping and whistling coming from where you left Bucky. All of that didn’t matter to you, your focus remaining solely on Steve. 

Author’s Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 1

Next Chapter

Not Mrs Walker

“Agent fury?” You whispered from the door way. Interrupting his meeting with agent hill. His head shot up and you understood the shock and confusion on their faces.

“I take it you know who I am" you smiled nervously.

“Yes, Mrs walker I do” he confirmed.

“Y/n please and my last name is y/l/n, I don’t go by walker anymore” you stated.

“In that case y/n what can I do for you?” He questioned.

“I need agent Coulson," you confirmed.

"I'm sorry y/n, but agent coulson is on a mission" maria apologised. "We don't know when he will back"

You tried to remain calm and smiled "did he ever tell you about project hide and seek” you asked meekly not sure if they knew what that was.

"Yes" fury answered harshly looking at you "it's a very classified mission y/n" looking at you accusingly, wondering how the hell you knew.

"I am project hide and seek" you whispered.

“Come in y/n” fury jumped up immediately.

“No” you snapped “sorry, no thank you" you smiled not trying to sound offensive "I can get away a lot quicker from here. Thank you though” trying to not sound harsh.

“I’m sorry y/n but agent coulson is underground at the minute but I am aware of the situation, what do you need?” He insisted.

“I need protection” you lifted up your arm showing a brief case attached to your wrist with a handcuff.

“In this case, I have the files on my soon to be ex husband and members of shield who are working for hydra, but they ARE coming too close to finding me, I don’t think I can last much longer on my own” you said sadly

[make-me-imagine]

Thinking of You

Prompt/Plot: “Receiving flowers but you don't know who they are from.“

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (left over from Valentines Day)

Words: 552

-

To say you had been stressed was an understatement. Every day brought new problems that you had to solve.

Walking towards your office, you ran through all the things you had to do today. Other SHIELD agents walked briskly down the hall, everyone with their own jobs and own problems.

Opening your office door, you stopped mid-step as you spotted a bouquet of flowers on your desk.

You blinked a few times as you walked over to your desk, eyes not leaving the flowers. Setting your bag down, you picked the bouquet up and turned it around in your hands.

Grabbing the card you read the printed text.

'I hope this brightens your day.'

Turning the card over, you noticed no name was left, and your chest swelled with curiosity. Was it really for you? And from who?

Smelling the flowers, you found a smile spreading across your face as your heart fluttered in your chest. Looking out into the hall, you left your office and walked across to the assistant desk.

"Taylor, did you see who left these in my office?"

Looking up, the assistant eyed the flowers with a curios gaze before shaking their head "I didn't see anyone come in with them, or go into your office."

You hummed softly, curiosity rising. Going back into your office, you took a few moments to put the flowers in a vase on your desk. The stressful thoughts of your busy morning leaving, if only for a short time.

As you got on with your day, you worked thoroughly and quietly. Every once and a while your eyes rose up to the flowers perched on the desk. Each time, your heart fluttered, as you wondered who left them for you.

Hearing your phone buzz, you flipped it over, seeing a message from Steve. Your heart fluttered again as your ears burned a little hotter as you read the message.

'Did you like your flowers?'

'You left them?'

'Yes.'

'They're beautiful. Thank you Steve. But, what are they for?'

'I was thinking of you, and how stressed you've been, and I thought it might brighten your day, just a little.'

'More than a little. Thank you.'

As you pressed send, you looked back at the flowers. Steve had been thinking of you? That alone caused your heart to pound heavily in your chest.

Letting out a deep breath, you told yourself to think nothing of it. He was your friend, and he was kind, that was all.

Looking down at your phone as another message came through, your breath caught in your throat.

'I was also hoping you might be free for dinner tonight?'

'I'm free. Is something going on?'

You told yourself not to think too much of it, yet.

'No, I just wanted to see you, it's been a while since we've been able to spend some time together'

You couldn't help but focus on what was being said in between the lines. He wanted to see you, maybe there really was more to it.

'Sounds great to me.'

'Good.'

You found yourself smiling brightly as you sat at your desk, wondering just what he really wanted to say to you. The flowers, and now dinner. Maybe it wasn't so bad to hope there was something else going on.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel+Steve Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @multifandomfix

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Other Woman | Steve Rogers

▹ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Implied potential Bucky x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~3.4k

▹ Summary: Steve had told you Peggy was his past, yet when time travel becomes an option, it turns out you were the other woman all along.

▹ Notes: I just like to be sad I guess. I have also decided to open my requests! I think I need some new inspiration while I work on some other pieces :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You were trapped, stuck in a fantasy you'd created on how things were supposed to be. Time seemed to drag on. It could've been an eternity or just a minute that passed, you wouldn’t have known the difference. 

You stared out the window, mesmerized by the water as it washed away any remnants of the past five years. The meteorologists were predicting this storm would be one of the worst of this year. It was poetic, almost like the flood in Noah's Arc, if you believed in that sort of thing. Droplets clung to your window and obscured your vision making everything outside blurry and unimportant. Incense hung thickly in the air, the smell of smoke from the match you struck burning your nostrils. A lukewarm cup of hot chocolate rested on your side table, relatively untouched. You’d lost the appetite for it shortly after making it. It had been a force of habit, an old routine you hadn’t quite shaken.

Four months, and all you had to show for it was sleepless nights, tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. You still couldn't find it in yourself to begin the process of moving on. To pack away the photos that littered your home. To get rid of him.

You half expected your front door to swing open. For him to burst in with his winning smile and bright eyes. He’d grab you in his arms and hold you tightly, thankful that the both of you had made it out alive. Two rounds with Thanos and neither of you died. Everything would be fairytale perfect: the world was safe, you weren't fugitives anymore, and Steve finally had Bucky back. That's how it should've been.  

But he didn’t.

Steve never came back. Those fantasies and dreams were dashed and divided, like glass shattering on the hard floor. Millions of shards created thousands of open wounds.  

He didn’t die a heroic death, sacrificing himself as Nat and Tony had. He chose to leave you. To stay in the past, a world he assured you he long ago made peace with losing. Swore to you that Peggy was nothing more than a fond memory he cherished like his old war buddies. 

‘She’s nothing compared to my girl.’ he’d always say. The words that used to quell your deepest fears and insecurities now felt hollow. You were always the other woman. It just took you four years to discover that. All the years you’d wasted, the opportunities you’d passed up when you'd gone on the run for him. It had all been pointless. 

He never even said goodbye. Steve couldn’t even bring himself to look you in the eyes as he broke your heart. You had to learn the truth from Bucky, a man you only knew by association. Sam had been there too, hand on your shoulders, holding you up as your whole world crumbled. You were barely coming to terms with the fact that Nat was gone, and now you’d have to live in a world without either of them. 

Figures formed in the haze of the low fog the rain had brought. It brought buried memories to the forefront of your mind. Tears clouded your vision, making everything out of focus. A single tear fell, your first meeting with Steve playing behind your eyes like a movie.

----

“So it’s true then, Captain America is defrosted and ready for action.” Your voice was soft, a bite of snark hidden deep under the sweetness of it. You crept up behind the super soldier, but he’d known you were there. You weren’t a trained assassin, nor did you ever claim to be. Just someone good with a gun and even better at executing orders, even if not in the manner originally intended.

Steve turned, a polite smile on his face. He seemed confused and disoriented, like an old man trying to keep up with technology. An accurate description of Steve Rogers. The sun shone in his eyes, making them shine like light against blue waters. He was attractive, obnoxiously so. With perfectly tousled blonde hair, a strong jaw, and lips that looked too soft to not want to kiss. 

“Ready and willing to jump back into action when I’m needed,” he said, holding a hand out for you to shake as you closed the distance separating you. He was even taller up close, nearly a foot taller than you. Which was new, you weren’t exactly short. “But please, call me Steve.” 

You took his hand in yours, enjoying the sensation of his calloused and much larger hands in yours. All too quickly the handshake ended and he was retracting his touch. 

“Y/N.” It was all you said, allowing yourself to stare into his blue eyes for one last moment before steeling yourself to distractions. This was a mission, not meet your local fossil at the Smithsonian. But that train of thought was harder to hold onto every time his arm gently brushed against yours.

“There’s quite the buzz around here, You’re all anyone can talk about,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, mindful to keep your gaze professional.

“I didn’t think I’d be that exciting of a topic,” he said, an easy smile on his face as he looked around the helicarrier. 

“Please, America’s hero melted and returned to modern America is cause for talk. Coulson swooned so hard he nearly fell to the floor,” you said, a whisper of a laugh at the edge of your words. Steve paused, turning to face you and you mirrored the action. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he was much closer than he had been a minute or so ago. 

“And you, Agent Y/N?” he asked, a slight red hue dusting his cheeks. The grin on your face widened, eyes softening as you allowed yourself to get lost in his eyes one more time. “How do you feel?”

“Very happy to have you with us today, Captain.” 

The grin on his face turned softer as the flush on his face got brighter. At that moment you noticed small flecks of green in his eyes.  

“You always were my favorite part about learning about WWII in school.” 

With a single pat on his shoulder, you continued making your way to the meeting room Fury and the others would be waiting in. 

---

Christmas lights glistened in the large room, chatter and laughter in every corner. The room was grand, ostentatiously so. With vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and pretentious art that only had value because a bunch of rich people decided it did. Women in beautiful dresses of various dark shades were lit up with glittering jewels while men wore extravagant suits that were probably more expensive than your rent. The holiday gala had been in full swing for two hours now. The alcohol had made everyone's eyes glossy and lips loose. 

You hung close to the bar, swirling the straw your drink had been served with. Your free hand rested on the bartop, manicured nails tapping against the wood. You were never good in events like this, all the glitz, glamor, and underhanded words. You were awkward and unsure of yourself outside of the battlefield. Fancy galas and parties exasperated that clumsy attitude. So you preferred to stick to the bar, hoping to get through the night with as little interaction as possible.   

“What’s a pretty gal like yourself doing all by herself?” the voice of Steve Rogers said, interrupting your awkward fidgeting. You turned, a pleasant smile overtaking your frown. Steve was standing right behind you, dressed in a simple black suit. In comparison to everyone around him, the outfit was plain, but Steve made it look anything but that. He made everything he wore look breathtaking. It was infuriating.

“Just waiting for a fella to come sweep me off my feet,” you said, a coy grin pulling on your lips. One of your hands smoothed down your knee-length black dress. Steve’s smile broadened and he held out a single hand. 

“Then how about a dance?” 

You didn’t answer him, simply taking his hand in yours. He pulled you towards the center of the room, the sound of your heels matching the pace of your heart. People parted for the two of you like the Red Sea, all the attention on you and Steve. Anxiety began to rise in your stomach, nearly causing your throat to close up. But you glanced up, meeting Steve’s blue eyes that were as deep and vast as the ocean. In the most cliche way, everyone in the room became formless blurs. All that mattered was Steve and his hands that circled your waist, pulling you closer to him than probably necessary. You relished the proximity though, his heartbeat matching pace with yours, his warmth heating your chilled skin. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck, the tips of your nails gently grazing his skin. Slowly, the two of you began to sway with the gentle piano that filled the room. The both of you wore matching smiles that were brighter than any lights in the room. Steve raised his hand, coaxing you to spin. The wind caused your hair to fan out, creating a halo effect as you did. The spin was more clumsy than you would’ve wanted, causing a shy giggle to leave your lips. 

“I’m not very good at this,” you muttered a dusting of red on your cheeks. Steve’s grip tightened slightly, amplifying the butterflies that had been exploding in your stomach since he first approached you.

“It’s okay, neither am I,” Steve said. His smile quelled the insecurities that lingered in the back of your mind. In and out, you took a steady breath.

“You seem to be hiding it better than I am,” you said in a slightly sardonic tone, your nose scrunching for a moment. Steve shook his head, a whisper of laughter leaving his mouth. The soft sound sent your heart racing and caused your mind to turn white. 

“Trust me, I’m not. See.” Steve unwrapped one of his arms from your waist, holding it out to you. You grabbed it, feeling his hand shaking. “You’ve got me seeing stars, doll.”

You’re silent for a moment, a dumb smile stuck on your face as you looked at Steve with adoration in your widened eyes. You grasped at straws, trying to think of something clever to say. But there was just static. You’d secretly been hoping for your friendship with Steve to blossom into more, and now it seemed you were getting your wish. You wanted to pinch yourself if only to see this was a dream. 

Steve didn’t talk, content to watch you struggle with breathing properly. His smile was lazy, head tilted slightly to the left like a cute puppy. His eyes were filled with adoration that was directed at you. Something you’d wanted from the moment he first spoke.

“How long have you been holding onto that one, Cap?” you finally uttered after a few seconds of long silence. 

“The moment we met, back on the helicarrier. Just been working up the courage to let ya know,” he said, his cheeks as equally as rosy as yours.

“Well--” you lifted Steve’s hand, spinning once again. This one was much smoother than the previous, Steve’s confession giving you a burst of confidence. “If it took nearly a year for you to tell me that, how long until you ask me out?”

After you spun, Steve's hand wrapped around your waist, both hands holding you close. You reveled in the feeling of being trapped in his arms, chest to chest and eye to eye.

“I’m free this Friday. We could go out to dinner, maybe go dancing after if you’re up for it,” Steve said. 

“Oh I’m up for it Rogers,” you said, resting your head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He leaned his head down, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It was gentle and over quicker than you would’ve liked, but you closed your eyes, imprinting the moment in your brain.    

---

Something was wrong, you could feel it. There wasn’t anything tangible that set the paranoia off, no action or word was spoken that would stoke your fear. You shouldn't feel this way, but the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away. 

You brushed it off, the death of Nat and Tony had shaken you, especially with them being so close together. That had to be why there was a lump in your throat that wouldn’t go away. It had to be why you were imagining that Steve hadn’t been able to look you in the eyes for two weeks now. Or why he would brush you off when you’d try to grab his hand or hold onto him for comfort. None of those things were happening, you were just imagining them. 

But even as you were thinking it, you knew it was pure delusion. You could read the writing on the wall.

Steve had been off the moment he returned from retrieving the stone. You’d been so wrapped up in losing Nat, that you never lingered on the implications that could have for the future of your relationship. There had been some complications and Steve and Tony had to go farther back to get the Tesseract. If you’d had a clearer mind, you would’ve understood the distant look in Steve’s eyes. 

He’d seen her, Peggy. That sighting was all it took to give him doubts. You never confronted him, of course, too cowardly to face that your relationship was crumbling. You loved Steve, you'd stuck by his side for four years, enduring the worst so you could keep him. The thought that it would've all been for nothing was terrifying. So instead you tucked yourself into bed every night, promising you’d bring it up the next day, only for the cycle to repeat.

Most days you awoke hoping this had all been a terrible nightmare, but that never happened.  

‘Just one last thing, and then everything can go back to normal,’ you told yourself. Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce were all outside, a little ways away from the small home Pepper had. Steve was going to return the stones, and then this whole thing with Thanos would finally be put to rest. 

You were at the sink, handwashing the same five dishes. It was therapeutic to have something to focus on. It kept your mind off of thoughts that you’d done your hardest to shove into the darkest recesses of your mind. Tears pricked at your eyes and your grip on the ceramic cup tightened. You clenched your jaw, inhaling then sharply exhaling.

‘Don’t cry, not here.’

Morgan and Pepper were somewhere nearby, their voices filtering into the kitchen from somewhere deeper in the house. You wouldn’t want either of them to walk in on you having a breakdown. Because if so, then you’d have to explain why you were sobbing in the middle of the kitchen. It would legitimize your fears, making the inevitable end of your relationship real.

By chance you glanced up, seeing Sam and Bucky standing with each other, but no Steve. Their backs were to you as they looked at something you couldn't quite see. A moment later Sam walked forward, slowly and almost unsure. 

A glint of metal in the light caught your eye, causing you to drop the glass in your hand. The shield. Steve’s shield. You could make out the bold, red, white, and blue coloring with the large star in the center. Even from this distance, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

'No, no, no, no--'

Panic surged through your body, the lump in your throat getting worse. You could hardly breathe as you forced the door open, rushing outside. The cold air hit your face, making your hair whip around. Clumsily you ran down the steps of the porch, bare feet touching green grass.

Closer now you could see an old man. Sam and Bucky were with him, helping him get into a car. The air was knocked out of your lungs and you nearly fell over. Tears broke through the damn you’d created, staining your cheeks red and splotchy. You inhaled sharply, gasping for air. 

The old man was Steve. You stood there like a fish gasping for air as you realized the man you’d loved had abandoned you without so much as a word. It was only after the car was out of sight that your mind fully processed what had happened.

Bucky and Sam turned, seeing you standing there completely still, the only noise you could make was a choked sob.

'He left. He just--'

  ---

 You opened your eyes, grabbed the mug of cold hot chocolate, and walked towards the sink. The drink poured out of the cup and down the drain, washed away with warm water. In complete silence, you stood there with your head in your hands. The breath you’d been holding left your mouth, slowly. A few stray tears lingered, and you scrubbed your face, trying to destroy the evidence of your crying. 

A knock on your front door chased away the silence. It was startling, pulling you out of your melancholic state. You straightened your back, hands smoothing your clothes and hair as you walked to the door.

In and out. 

You let out one last breath before opening the door. 

Bucky Barnes stood on the other side, his previously long hair cut short, more like the style he wore back in the 40s. He was dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt. His metal arm poked out from the sleeve of his leather jacket causing it to gleam in the dim lighting. A large grin lit up his face, making his ever-tired blue eyes brighter than usual. He held a grocery bag in his dominant hand and leaned nonchalantly against your doorway. 

“I thought we’d try our hand at making something for once instead of ordering out,” he said. A tentative smile blossomed on your face, stepping aside for Bucky to freely enter the apartment. He’d started coming by two weeks after Steve left, mumbling something about not wanting you to have to be alone. Though you both knew he needed the company as much as you.

“Oh, you might regret that Barnes. I don’t think either of us has the natural talent to cook,” you said, following him into the kitchen. He took off his jacket, setting it on the back of one of your chairs.

“I’ll have you know I make a mean batch of pancakes,” he said as he pulled grocery items out of the bag. 

“That doesn't mean shit. Everyone knows that waffles are superior,” you smugly said. Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head as his lips pressed into a thin line.

“What? Not even close, waffles are so hard and difficult to chew, pancakes are so soft and fluffy,” he said. 

“Waffles are fluffy too!”

“Not like pancakes!” Bucky fired right back. 

“Besides, waffles are not hard, you just always burn them,” you said. 

“That was one time!”

The two of you continued to playfully banter, poking and prodding each other with quips as you cooked in your tiny kitchen. It was a relief to not have your thoughts constantly wander to Steve every five seconds. At some point he melted away completely, leaving only you and Bucky in the candlelight glow of your apartment. At some point, he'd become your rock, the one thing keeping you from going completely adrift. The time spent with Bucky was an escape, a chance for you to pretend you hadn't been completely shattered. 

You smiled at a stupid joke he'd made, a sarcastic quip snapped at him like a whip. You both sat on your couch, eating the food that had taken far longer than necessary to make. But you weren't mad, in fact, you hoped the raging storm outside would be enough excuse for him to stay the night. If only to avoid the feeling of drowning that always followed Bucky's absence. 

Yet you couldn't ignore the flutter of your heart or the lightheaded feeling whenever Bucky laughed. You didn't acknowledge it, simply relishing in the moments spent together. The hole Steve had left behind slowly filled each day Bucky smiled at you like that.      

[dispatchvampire]

Accidentally in Love (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.

Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)

WC: 1800-ish.

Summary: 

Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.

Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.

A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.

This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.

I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)

Chapter 3

One Week Later

“Is he hot in person?”

“Who?” Echo slipped her lunch into the breakroom fridge and pulled out the two cold bottles of caffeinated water she’d left in there the previous night. Late afternoon as it slipped into evening was always a busy time and she needed the fortification. 

“Spongebob Squarepants,” Kalenda, her work bestie, scoffed as she crossed her arms with an impatient frown. The curvy brunette was Echo’s age, about two inches shorter but making up for it with feistiness. “Who do you think? Bucky freaking Barnes! Christ, it’s like you don’t even know me at all.”

 “Lord…” she rolled her eyes as she held the door to the break room open for her friend to pass in front of her on their way into the main center. “Yes. Yes, he is just as beautiful in person, and he and Captain Rogers together are, in fact, as kind and stupidly hot as advertised.” After the visit at the hospital where they’d returned her replaced or repaired belongings—including her bike—Echo had traded numbers with Steve and Bucky, and the guys had texted her a few times in the intervening days to check on her and chatting a little, but it felt weird reaching out to contact them just because. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. 

Not that she wouldn’t have minded being their friend, or… well, or. They were gorgeous, sweet, funny so far as she could tell, and of course heroic and selfless as hell. The way they smiled at her made her knees weak and her pussy may never recover. What’s not to like? But who was she kidding, really. They were the objects of desire for over half the planet, she guessed, and she was a dispatcher for the NYPD. In no way were those worlds truly related, outside of the most superficial ways, much less were compatible. 

“The hair and those eyes, I’d get so fucking lost in them you’d never find me again. And all those muscles,” she sighed lustily. “Fuck me, that’s before we even talk about that metal arm,” Kalenda carried on, now in full swoon as they made their way out to their stations. “Gods, the things I would let him do to me…” 

Echo snorted at her friend’s obvious heart-eyes in regards to the Winter Soldier. She didn’t blame her at all, but still, their coworkers didn’t need to be privy to their depraved bestie conversations. That’s what the chat was for. “Annnnnnd that is how we end up back at the supervisor’s office for inappropriate work conversations.”

Kalenda scoffed, waving off her concern with a dismissive hand-wave. “Oh, like you’ve never said anything filthy.” Her wicked grin should have been the warning. “Something something ‘star-spangled cock could split you open any time he wanted’? Something something ‘break him down to the frame’... any of that sound familiar?” 

Her leering green gaze as she slipped on her headset made Echo giggle even as heat rushed to her cheeks. “You could shut up any time now.”  

The laughter was shortlived, though, as they settled into their workday. Having a headset on meant that it was time to serve the citizens of NYC and the officers of NYPD to the best of their abilities. They were one of, if not the, largest comm center in the country and Echo was proud of the work she did, contributing to the safety of her town. 

It was easy to get lost in the work, one call at a time, one radio run at a time. Her focus, scattered as it could be at any other time, easily fell into the rhythm of call and response, action and reaction, hours slipping by unnoticed. 

Voices behind her and down at the end of her row drew her attention, their familiarity abruptly yanking her out of the zone. 

One pair of eyes zeroed in on her immediately. “Well, if it isn’t the crash test dummy.” 

Boisterously loud for the locale, Tony Stark was the walking definition of ‘all eyes on me’. He may have been in a crazy expensive suit and tie, looking all prim and proper and what have you, but the curve of his lips promised the most interesting kinds of mischief. 

Echo swallowed hard as she made herself unavailable for calls, her eyes quickly darting left and right to the unabashed gawking of her coworkers. Oh, they were still busy as hell, but the nosy bastards were never above a good spectacle. “Mr. Stark.” 

“Did the phone meet your standards?” he demanded with a smirk that seemed a little too knowing. He stopped behind her chair, spinning her around to face him. 

She nodded hesitantly. “It did, thank you. I mailed you a thank you note. Did you not get it?” 

Yes, it had been an old school touch, but sending him an email seemed a little impersonal, especially since he’d gone to the trouble of transferring all her stuff over in addition to giving her a top of the line bit of tech. And it wasn’t like she could just show up on his doorstep with a casserole.

He snorted, his billion dollar smile on full display as his eyes crinkled at the edges. “I did, but then, I expected nothing less considering you hang out with the geriatric set.” 

She was about to ask what he meant when another voice cut her off. “Tony, Jesus, man. Quiet down, people are working here—oh, hey Echo.” 

She sincerely hoped the whimpering squeak as she spun quickly to face him she heard was just in her head, though Kalenda’s snort behind her indicated no such luck. “Hi. James. I-I mean Bucky. Um…” her eyes met her bestie’s just behind him for some help, but only found the kind of mocking encouragement born from years of friendship. “Nice to see you. Here. At my job.” 

“Um yeah, about that…” The brunet smoothed his long bangs back out of his face behind his ears and grinned bashfully as he rubbed the back of his neck. Under other circumstances, she and Kalenda would be ogling him for the way the seams of his deep blue henley were barely clinging to life across his shoulders and around his massive arms and the skinny jeans that were all but wrecking her concentration. “Cap and Tony had a meeting at 1PP and Stevie wanted me to tag along.” 

“I’m glad he did.” The way her compliment made his cheeks flush felt like winning an award, even if the normal filter she kept up at work slipped a bit. 

“Me too.” The tiny shy grin that danced at the corners of his lips was killing her slowly, even as the somewhat awkward silence stretched out between them. 

Kalenda’s obvious throat-clearing seemed to startle her back into herself, reminding her acutely of both their location and their audience. 

“Well, it’s always good to see you.” The platitude was automatic, off her tongue and into the space between them before she even thought about it, her nerves robbing her mind of anything but decent manners. Good gods, she was never gonna live this down. 

“You look good.” His eyes widened a moment later as he flushed bright red, clearly that hadn’t been what he’d meant to come out of his mouth. “I mean, that is… you look better than when I saw you last time.” 

“Hard not to,” she conceded, her mind bordering on hysterical the longer this conversation went on. It felt like the whole world was watching this junior-high level farce and she was stumbling through it, quite badly. 

“Well, on the upside, you’re wearing more clothes this time,” Tony interjected oh-so-helpfully, looking like he was avidly watching the best telenovela ever and doing nothing to quell the likely overheating rumor mill that had just kicked into gear around them. “And there’s less blood.” 

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Shelly, the floor supervisor’s breathlessly cheerful voice sounded like she’d rather eat broken glass than let that conversation continue as she rushed across the room to join them. “Echo, Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Rogers—”

“Hello, Echo.” 

She was almost afraid to look, though Kalenda’s dreamy sigh left her no other choice. Sure enough, the gods of horniness were testing her and pretty much every woman in the five boroughs with these three Avengers out together. In a black t-shirt under a green button-down and jeans that gave her the most impure thoughts possible about his thighs, the blond Avenger with the pink cheeks grinned at her warmly from his spot behind Tony. The fact her panties didn’t burst into flames right there was a miracle of modern physics. 

“Hey Steve.” 

“As I was saying,” her supervisor huffed, bringing all of the attention back to her, “they’re here to tour the center, so we should really be on our way.” 

Sounded reasonable to her, so long as they were there, Echo doubted there’d be much work done anyway. “Alright then.” Echo turned back to her console to take stock of her district. “It was good to see you. Be safe out there.”

“Before we go though…” Buck’s half-grin as he met her eye over her shoulder warmed her to her toes. “You out of here soon?” 

“A few hours. Why?” 

“Wanna meet up for a late dinner?” 

His hopeful expression tugged at her heart. It was the kind of thing that made her want to give him the world, even if she didn’t know him like that. “It’ll be after ten,” she hedged, perched on the fence between really wanting to spend time with them because who wouldn’t, really, and knowing that she’s no one special and didn’t have any business tagging along with them. 

“Then we’ll leave a light on for ya,” Steve replied cheerfully as he and Bucky were led further into the center and away from her desk. “See you tonight.”

“Always a pleasure, Crash,” Tony called, following behind him. 

Echo sat blinking at her console as she watched the group retreat, only spurred to action when she caught Steve’s eye as he winked at her before leaving the room. 

“What just happened?” she asked the Universe at large as she typed in the login code for her phone from muscle memory.

“Looks to me,” Kalenda replied lightly dropping off a new bottle of caffeinated water, “like you have a date after work.” 

“Huh.” The very idea was mindblowing. Quickly, her mind was shaken from its haze by a bank robbery that required both her and Kalenda’s attention for quite a while. 

“And had the nerve not to introduce me.”

[happy74827]

Cool Rider

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When another date ends in disaster, and Steve shows up in an attempt to “cheer” you up, you’re instantly against everything. But it’s Steve, and you should know by now that he never takes no for an answer.

WC: 3859

Category: Fluff

A lot of people liked my other Steve fic, so I felt inclined to make another. This time with a lot more fluff (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777).

『••✎••』

Needless to say, you were shocked when you heard the roar of a motorcycle.

You didn’t do well with dates. In your 24 years of life, you had a total of one boyfriend, and he was the absolute worst. So, in the last six months, you have been avoiding all social activities like the plague and focusing solely on yourself and your future.

That meant that you had become very comfortable being a hermit and avoiding any and all contact with other human beings. You were happy that way.

So why was a man who looked like an absolute God sitting on a motorcycle at the front door of your house?

Well, because you broke that rule a week ago.

In all fairness, the man was cute. A nerdy, awkward kind of cute. And he was a gentleman. And you were lonely.

So, when he asked you for your number, you were too lonely to turn him down. You hadn’t expected him to call, and you certainly didn’t expect him to ask you out on a date. But you also didn't think you would have the willpower to say no.

So you accepted, and it turned out to be the biggest regret of your life. The “nerd” was actually a complete dick, and after 30 minutes, you just wanted to go home. But you couldn’t because he refused to pay for the meal, so you were stuck there with him.

The worst part of the night was when he got into his car and tried to follow you home. He kept insisting that he just wanted to be a good guy and make sure that you got home safely, but you were sure that he just wanted to see where you lived and probably get in a few gropes along the way.

Luckily, you were able to lose him about three blocks from your house. It was a good thing, too, because your phone had died a couple of blocks ago, and you were afraid that if you got caught by him, you wouldn't have a way to call for help.

The next day, you made an executive decision to stay the hell away from men, with the exception of a few nice, safe friends. That was how you ended up here, seven days later, hiding in your room and ignoring your doorbell.

The bell kept ringing, and you knew that whoever was out there wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Groaning, you threw your covers off of your body and stomped towards the front door.

You threw open the door, ready to rip someone a new one, when your angry speech caught in your throat.

Steve Rogers was standing on your front porch.

He was a friend from work, to simplify a very long story. You met him two years ago when you started at SHIELD. You were a tech genius, and you worked closely with the Avengers to keep their equipment running.

Steve was always sweet and funny. You had a lot in common and were very close. After a while, you started hanging out with him and his friends, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky. It was great.

As exceptions to men go, he was definitely a big one. He was a walking god, with the physique and the looks to prove it. And here he was, on your front porch, holding keys that belonged to the motorcycle parked out front.

You looked at the motorcycle, then back to Steve, before your face went blank.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were amused. "No?"

"Nope. Whatever you're trying to sell, I'm not buying."

"Why would I be trying to sell you something? I’m not even selling anything."

"It’s an expression, Steve, Jesus." You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation. Steve might’ve been your best friend, but the guy was such a 90-year-old sometimes. "If you think that I'm going to get on that thing with you, you're wrong. It's death on two wheels."

His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He looked over his shoulder at the bike, then back to you.

"That's... a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I'm serious, Steve. It's not happening. I don't trust that thing, and I'm not going to die in some freak accident."

He crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his leather jacket tightening over his biceps. His smile didn't fade as he spoke, which only annoyed you more.

"It's not going to kill you. I’m quite insulted that you would think that I would put you in danger."

"You're an Avenger. You put me in danger just by existing."

His lips twitched, and you had the feeling that he was holding back a comment.

"Look," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You haven't come out with us in weeks, and I'm worried. It's not healthy to lock yourself in your house all the time. With the job we have, there's never a guarantee of tomorrow, and if I were you, I'd want to spend every day living it to the fullest."

His words caught you off guard. He was right. It had been almost two months since you had gone out with the group. You just couldn't find the motivation. You were content being at home, alone. You had gotten a little lax in your friendships, only going to work and coming straight home. And now, with the… issues… with your date, you just didn't have the heart to try again.

You could feel your resolve starting to crumble, but you tried to stay strong.

"That's a low blow, Rogers." You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "But my answer is still no."

"You think that was a low blow?” He scoffed as he pushed himself away from the door and took a step forward.

He was so much taller than you, and his presence was overwhelming. With the added tightness of his clothing and the confidence in his eyes, it tricked your eyes into seeing him as bigger than he really was. He was big, of course, but right now, it felt like he was towering over you.

Your heart began to race, a flush spreading over your cheeks.

"You clearly never played football because if you did, you'd know that this was a real low blow."

Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You squealed, slapping your hand against his lower back. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and you could see the muscles ripple in his back with every step that he took. "Put me down!"

"You're going to have fun today."

"Steve! Put me down right now! I swear to God if you don't-"

"You'll what?" He laughed, the deep rumble making your stomach flutter. "Punish me?"

You huffed as you pounded on his back with your fist. You weren't mad at him, really; you just didn't know how to respond.

Steve practically dragged you outside. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, but you were thankful that you lived far enough away from your neighbors for no one to witness this. When he finally set you down next to the motorcycle, you gave him a glare.

"You're an ass, Steve Rogers."

He gave you a smirk as he swung his leg over the bike, his leather jacket tightening around his arm as his muscles flexed. Personally, you hated leather, but the way it fit him...

"Steve, I’m not wearing the right clothes."

He was quiet as his eyes swept over you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top since it was the middle of summer and you were hot, but he was looking at you like you were covered head to toe in leather.

"We can go buy something and change in the bathroom or something."

He seemed to think for a moment before he gave a single nod.

"Sure."

He started the bike and motioned for you to get on behind him. Goddamn it, Steve.

Sighing, you swung your leg over the bike and wrapped your arms around his torso. It was an incredibly intimate position, with your body pressed up against his and your faces mere inches apart. For a moment, you didn’t even realize when he swung a helmet down in front of your face.

"Put this on, Scaredy-Cat."

"Shut up, I'm not scared. Just... concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk still ever-present. You rolled your eyes before slipping the helmet onto your head.

The engine rumbled beneath you, and Steve revved the engine a couple of times, laughing when you squeaked in surprise and gripped him tighter. You could feel the laughter in his chest, his muscles moving under your fingers.

"Hold on tight, princess. Wouldn't want you falling off."

"You're a dick."

"Language."

"I will push you off this bike."

Steve didn't say anything; he just pulled the kickstand up and eased the bike into drive.

You squealed when the bike began to move, tightening your hold on Steve and burying your face in his back. He didn’t seem to mind; he just chuckled and sped up a bit.

You tried not to scream as he maneuvered the bike through traffic, weaving in and out of cars. It was a terrifying experience, especially since you had the distinct impression that Steve was taking advantage of the situation and driving recklessly.

You felt the wind on your legs and the constant hair strands whipping into your face, but you refused to look up. The speed, the closeness of the cars, and the fact that there was nothing keeping you on the bike except for Steve made it impossible to even think about moving.

When Steve finally stopped the bike, you had your eyes closed tight, and your body pressed completely up against him. Your arms were wrapped around him so tightly he was surprised you could breathe.

He took a moment to enjoy the feeling before gently prying your hands off of him and stepping off the bike. He turned and reached out a hand for you, waiting patiently for you to move. When you didn’t, he moved back towards the bike and took the helmet off your head.

You were breathing hard, trying desperately not to show how scared you were.

"It wasn’t that bad."

You shot him a glare, which made him grin.

"Just... shut up."

He laughed and helped you off the bike, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He was a gentleman, of course, and you couldn’t complain about the feeling of his hard body pressed up against yours, but the sudden closeness was a bit overwhelming.

"Ugh, I think I have whiplash."

"Liar," said Steve with another laugh, be dramatic. You liked it, admit it."

"Whatever, why are you even kidnapping me, anyways?"

"I told you. It's not healthy to sit in a dark room, alone, all day, every day."

"First, rude.” You said, giving him a nudge in the side. He let out a small sound, which made your eyes widen in surprise.

"Did that hurt you, oh Captain, my Captain?"

"It didn't hurt," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And second?"

"What?"

"First, rude," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Second?"

"Oh! Yeah, why are we actually doing this?"

That’s when Steve paused. Your heart instantly dropped at his hesitation. Steve only hesitated for two reasons. The first reason would be if he were completely at a loss for words, and clearly, by his recent attitude, that wasn’t the case. So that left the second reason: because he knew something that he either didn’t want to tell you or something he wasn’t supposed to know.

With recent events, it wasn’t difficult to guess what was happening.

"Natasha told you, didn't she."

You were already pulling away from him, ready to go back home and hide in your bed for the rest of eternity, when he caught your wrist.

“Hey,” His voice was softer, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have a good time today, alright? So, forget about what happened, forget about what Natasha said, and just focus on having a good day. Okay?"

“I don’t want a pity date, Steve. It’s nice that you care and everything, but-”

"I'm not pity dating you." His voice was firm, and his face was hard, the complete opposite of the way it was just moments before.

"Then what do you call this? My actual date sucked, and I've been cooped up in my house, so you thought, 'Hey, why not take her out and show her a good time?'"

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head, his fingers loosening around your wrist. "No, no. That's not... I'm sorry."

The change in him was drastic. He seemed to shrink in on himself, and his head drooped like a kicked puppy.

"Steve,"

He lifted his head and looked at you, his baby-blue eyes filled with guilt.

"You have no idea how badly I want to punch that guy for treating you like that.” He spoke softly as if the words were only meant for him to hear. But, as the saying goes, the walls have ears, and the parking lot was pretty damn quiet. “But that's not what this is. You're my friend, and I hate to see you sad. I'm not here just because of a stupid date. I'm here because I care about you."

There was a pause, a heavy silence hanging between the two of you. He was looking at you expectantly, a pleading look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"Okay,"

"And I'm not going to bring it up again unless you do.”

"Okay."

"And, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return, maybe a little more conversation, a smile, maybe a laugh, but other than that..."

A smile slowly crept onto your face. He had the uncanny ability to make everyone else smile, regardless of their mood, and he was the only one who could do it. It’s not that his jokes were particularly funny because they weren't, but it was the way he said them.

He was an awkward, nervous mess most of the time, but when he was confident when he was in his element, there was no stopping him.

"You sure you want to waste all your energy on me, old man?"

His lips twitched at the nickname, his eyes brightening. "For you, doll? Anything."

And there it was. That goddamn smile that made your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He was just too sweet, and it was completely unfair.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you close. "Let's get you something nice."

You smiled as you walked next to him. As much as you hated the motorcycle ride, it was nice to spend some time with Steve. He parked outside a Target, and the two of you walked in, immediately making your way to the women's section.

You took charge almost immediately, going to the racks and picking out different things. Steve followed behind you, carrying your armfuls of clothes as you added more. You went through rack after rack, throwing the things that caught your eye into his arms.

After about the tenth outfit, you turned around and saw him standing there, his arms filled with clothing and a smile on his face. You ignored it or tried to, as you turned back around and went to another rack.

When you finally finished, you had an armful of outfits, and Steve was practically weighed down. He didn't seem to mind, though, and you had the feeling that he had enjoyed his role as a pack mule. When the shopping was done, you ran to the bathrooms and changed into the outfit while Steve waited outside.

A pullover hoodie and a pair of jeans, the closest thing that Target had to leather. Not exactly what you wanted, but it would work. When you stepped out of the stall, you found Steve sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through a magazine. Such a 90-year-old, again.

He looked up when he heard the door open, his eyes sweeping over your form.

"Where to now? The ditch?"

Steve rolled his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "You’re an avid book reader, right? What's the biggest bookstore in the area?"

"Are we going to Barnes and Noble or something?"

"If that's what's closest."

You paused, watching his expression. There was no sign of teasing, no hint that this was a joke.

"…Really? Barnes and Noble?"

"Is that an issue?"

The disbelief must have been written on your face because Steve gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

"Oh, come on. I can be spontaneous!"

"Sure," you mumbled, trying not to show how happy his statement had made you. He remembered a stupid fact about you that you had told him months ago. And he had stored it, not forgotten it.

You felt like you were in the twilight zone, but you weren't complaining.

Steve bought the outfit and threw the tags away, and the two of you got back on the motorcycle. It was easier, this time, with the knowledge that he had cared enough to listen to your ramblings. Maybe he cared enough to calm it.

You had your face buried in his back, not out of fear this time, but out of comfort. You couldn’t see him smile as he sped up, but you could feel it.

At Barnes and Noble, he sat and watched as you wandered the store, a smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, didn't pressure you into talking, didn’t even try to join in; he just sat and listened as you read him the summaries of the books. You didn’t even mean to; it just kind of happened.

One moment, you were looking through the books; the next, you were reading the synopsis out loud to Steve. He didn’t say anything, didn't make any indication that he was listening, but you could tell by the way his head would turn towards you when you spoke. And once again, Steve was your personal pack mule, carrying the books that you were interested in.

By the end of the night, he had an armful of books, a satisfied smile on his face, and you were laughing. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed this much, the last time you had felt so happy.

When you got home, the sky was dark, and the moon was high. Steve followed you inside and set the books down on the coffee table. He had refused to let you carry them, insisting that they would get ruined in your hands. You didn't bother fighting him on it and allowed him to carry them.

"Do you want a drink or anything? Something to eat?" It was obvious you were slightly nervous now, but Steve didn’t seem the notice… or even care at this point.

"No, thank you. I should probably be getting back."

"Oh." You paused, not really wanting him to leave, but you couldn’t ask him to stay. You were friends, that was it, and nothing more. "Okay, yeah."

"Well," he started, his fingers flexing by his side. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah," you said, giving him a smile. "See you soon, Steve."

He looked like he was going to say something else before he gave you a soft smile and walked out.

Once he was gone, you shut the door and let out a sigh. Today was perfect, and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for enjoying yourself, hated that you were able to push away all thoughts of him. It was like the universe was taunting you, dangling the perfect guy in front of your face, and you couldn’t have him.

"Why him, huh?"

"I can still hear you." Steve's voice echoed through the house despite his absence in it, and you internally groaned as you got up to stare out the window. Damn, his super hearing.

You pulled the blinds aside and watched as Steve got on his bike, his helmet still in his hands.

"Steve."

He paused, turning his head towards the house. He couldn’t hear what you were saying now that he was by his bike, not with the closed windows, but he could see the silhouette of your body against the curtains. You lifted it up in an instant, an invitation.

"Steve.” You repeated, and this time he heard it. Loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean it? That this wasn’t a pity date?"

Steve paused for a moment, his lips slightly parted. After a moment, he rested his helmet on the handlebars and made his way back to you. He stopped inches from you, slightly bending down through the window.

A smile and a simple glimpse at your lips was his only answer. He looked back in your eyes, his expression soft, waiting. He was leaving it up to you, not wanting to push, not wanting to scare. He wanted it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

It was all the incentive that you needed.

You reached through the window and grabbed his jacket, pulling him forward and crashing your lips together. It was desperate and slightly awkward since you were halfway through the window, but neither of you seemed to care.

Steve reached forward and grabbed the side of the window, pushing it open even further and lifting you through. You let out a surprised squeak, which quickly turned into a moan as he pressed you up against the house.

His lips were warm and softer than you expected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, Steve pulled away, his forehead resting on yours and a smile on his face.

"Okay, this wasn't a pity date."

Steve let out a laugh, the breath puffing against your face.

"Good. Glad we established that."

"What was this, then? I've been told that Captain America wasn’t one to put out on the first date."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely not. I'm a gentleman."

"Then what's this, Steve? What was today?"

His arm tightened around you, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Like I said, I can be spontaneous."

"Spontaneous," you mumbled, letting out a laugh.

"And," he continued, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "It seems good girls like a little bad every now and then. You especially, given your choice of dates."

"So, is that what this is? Captain America showing me a good time?"

"No. This is Steve Rogers showing his girl a good time."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips inches from yours. "My girl."

And when his lips met yours again, all you could think about was the leather jacket, the motorcycle, and the promise of more.

And a whole lot more bad.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Like a River Flows

Kinktober Day 16: Lactation

Relationship: dilf!Steve Rogers x tattoo artist!wife Reader (Goddamn Prince Charming Looking DILF AU)

Words: ~1.3k

Summary: Steve will never get enough of you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (genital piercing, breeding kink, drunk sex, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk) needy/sneaky dilf!Steve, some spoilers for the GPCLD verse but nothing I haven’t hinted at, established relationship, mentions of parenthood, alcohol consumption, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: I’ve missed them so much, they’re adorable ☺️

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You giggled into Steve’s mouth when he growled playfully as he pinned you against the door, running your fingers through his hair and tugging when he struggled with the key. Tonight had been the first time you had anything to drink since he got you pregnant, and the three glasses of wine had hit you a little harder to an expected, though not in an unwelcome way, plus Steve had a few more bourbons than he normally would have since the kids were with his mom so neither of you had to parent. Hence, the two of you had been feeling each other up for the past hour and probably made your poor Uber driver extremely uncomfortable.

“Ah shit, there we go.” Steve practically lifted you off the ground when he finally got the door open, kissing you hungrily and trying not to trip over his own feet while he shoved his hands under your dress as you started to unbutton his shirt. “Finally have you all to myself for a whole night, I’m gonna fucking ruin you, doll.”

“Maybe I’ll ruin you, Daddy.” You laughed again when he made a noise like he was in pain against your lips, letting him slide your dress down your shoulders and kicking it aside before you began to undo his slacks. “I’m gonna ride you until you pass out from screaming, Stevie.”

“You goddamn teasing minx, shit.” Both of you winced when he shoved the bedroom door open a little harder than intended and it slammed into the wall, but then you were both naked and ready and he could worry about possibly denying the wall in the morning, dragging you onto the bed and pulling you on top of him as he ran his hands over every inch of you he could. “Missed you so fucking much, lemme in this fuckin’ pussy, I’ll put another baby in you, you’re gonna be so full of me.”

“Greedy boy. You’re gonna keep me knocked up constantly, aren’t you?” You bit his lip gently when he just nodded eagerly at you, sliding a hand between the two of you to grasp his cock and whining when you teased the cool metal of his pierced tip over your weeping hole. “Want it, always wanna be full of you, fuck.”

As soon as you started to sink down on him you had to brace your palms on his chest, your eyes fluttering closed while you felt that welcome and familiar burn that always came when he first stretched you open. Steve’s gaze was fixed on you when you finally managed to focus again, that enamored look he always got when you were on top making you moan before you began moving your hips slowly as his fingers dug into your soft flesh in encouragement. It felt like his cock was in your throat, but that was why you both loved this position, always wanting him to be as deep inside you as possible.

“That’s it… oh god, that’s fucking it, doll, you feel so fucking good.” Steve was already getting so loud as he watched you start to ride him, groaning and whining and smacking your ass while he thrust his hips up to meet yours. “Just use me… ah fuck, wanna feel this perfect little cunt strangle my dick, don’t stop.”

“Shit, Steve, ‘m gonna soak that big fuckin’ cock.” You started bouncing wildly when you felt your cunt starting to throb, tossing your head back and sobbing when he slid his hands up to squeeze your full breasts. “Oh god, ‘m gonna do it, gonna come so fucking hard… fu-fuck!”

The hour’s worth of teasing each other combined with the fact that you didn’t have to hold anything back made the orgasm that ripped through you almost painful, a harsh cry leaving your throat while your entire body spasmed violently as your pussy fluttered and squirted all over Steve’s dick. Even with the exertion of that extreme burst of pleasure, you couldn’t stop moving, your body rolling sensuously over Steve as you bit your lip while he kept kneading your tits in his giant hands.

“So fuckin’ beautiful… oh my god.” The sudden warm wetness Steve felt running down the backs of his hands was going to make him pass out, the sight of your milk flowing down his arms and still dribbling from your nipples as you rode him making him let out the most pathetic whimper you’d ever heard in your life. “Baby, holy fuck.”

“What? Ah shit. I knew I should’ve pumped before we left, why…” you cocked your head and frowned when he suddenly couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, the false innocence of his expression making you roll your eyes before you started to grind against him again. “Fuckin’ perv, you planned this.”

“Dunno what you mean.” Steve just squeezed your tits again and licked his lips as more creamy liquid ran down his wrists, bringing his gaze back to your eyes and looking absolutely pathetic even as he rocked his hips to meet yours. “Babyyyyyy…”

“So sad, c’mere.” You grabbed his hair and yanked his up until he could bury his face in your chest, sighing when he growled and immediately started sucking on your nipples. “Steven…”

He only grunted in response as he swallowed the sweet taste of you greedily, cupping your breast and kneading it gently so your milk kept flowing into his mouth. Being able to drink from you always made him go feral, his noises low and full of need as he lost himself in you completely. The yelp you let out when he suddenly sat up even more so he could kneel and drive into you deeper went completely unnoticed, Steve growling before switching to your other nipple and drinking deep as his cock throbbed and twitched inside you.

“You… oh fuck.” He could only mumble stupidly since he refused to take his mouth off you, groaning as he kept suckling and gazing at you through his lashes, his hips punching up into you with almost no rhythm. “You taste so fucking good.”

“Stevie, holy shit.” You had to grit your teeth so they didn’t crack together, he was fucking you so hard, making your cunt gush all over him while you panted desperately. “Don’t stop, ‘m so close.”

“Yes, gimme, want all of it.” Steve felt you clench and he lost it, pulling his lips back so he could gently bite your nipple and purring when you screamed and squirted all over his lap. “Mine.”

All you could do was hold onto him tightly and whine when he started pumping his cum into you, burying your face in his hair and sobbing as he kept sucking on your tit while the two of you stayed molded to each other as you came down. Steve didn’t want to let go of you, but he did once he felt you relax, rolling the two of you until he had you pinned to the bed so he could nuzzle into your chest and give you that dreamy look that you adored.

“Don’t give me that damn look, Steven.” You tugged on his hair affectionately when he whined as he started to lick your chest clean. “We agreed a year before the next one, swear you just want me pregnant so you can drink from me all the fucking time.”

“Maybe.” He grinned as he crawled up your body so he could press his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth and purring when you sighed for him. “If only that damn baby didn’t hog all of it.”

[i-mushi]

Flying with Steve Rogers

I just did a 12hr roundtrip flight marathon for a family emergency and got 2.5hrs of sleep. So slightly delirious at 4am on the return flight I wrote a short little thing on how much nicer it would have been to fly with Steve Rogers. It's also on Ao3! -> Flying with Steve Rogers

He’s calm when you’re jittery in the security line, his baseball cap pulled low. You were cutting it a little close to boarding due to traffic and hoping to still have time to grab a snack before boarding. He holds your hand, thumb rubbing soothingly on the back, and shuffles forward with the line.

You’re wound up tight at the gate and trying to hide it as people start to line up waiting to board. You’re worrying if you’ll have space for the carry on up above or it’ll be an embarrassing and expensive mess at the gate to check it, and if you’re seat will be okay or if you’ll be next to the baby waving the rattle by the coffee shop. You’ve completely forgotten Steve gets early boarding. When they announce anyone with small children or military can come forward Steve stands up with his duffel bag. He looks at you expectantly until you realize that means both of you.

He puts your heavy carry-on up in the overhead compartment like it weighs as much as the baby who is settling down far away and offers to help the woman ahead of him with hers. He settles into the window seat with noise cancelling headphones with a small smile to you and a squeeze of your thigh. He’s too big for the seats. His shoulders are so broad that as you sit down you only have to turn your head to touch your lips to his shoulder. It’s nice. He’s a space heater on the cold plane, and he’s happy to be a pillow when you try to nod off. He doesn’t mind when your fingers dig into his palm as your belly swoops with takeoff and landing.

He pulls down four people’s bags for them before you deplane, and he lifts both of your checked luggage in one hand each from baggage claim. He grabs your hand when you both spot Happy standing with the other drivers with a little sign that just says: “Cap”.

As you approach Happy offers his hand to shake. “Captain Rogers, we would have been happy to fly you on a private plane or at least first class.”

“That’s alright, Happy. It’s nice to know what people are talking about with air travel. And the target was tagged.”

“Target?” You ask, confused, as Happy leads you out to a luxury sedan. “This was a trip to meet my family.”

Steve squeezes your hand. “It was, and it started as that. But the flights you were looking at happened to be in the same airport as someone SHIELD has been keeping an eye on. So it worked out.”

“When did you— you know what, I don’t care.” You have no idea when he tagged anybody, but that’s Steve. You just shake your head as he helps Happy put the bags in the trunk, then slides into the seat beside you. He puts his arm over your shoulder as you yawn into his chest. “Let’s fly first class next time,” you mumble.

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you are used to people hating what you can do. sometimes even you hate what you can do - and how isolated it makes you. steve rogers is one of the people that you expected to understand the weight that you carry on your shoulders, but he doesn’t. not until he has to see it firsthand.

word count: 18.6k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, telepathic!reader, insecure!reader, lonely!reader

warnings: mean!steve (in the beginning), brief descriptions and allusions to violence against women, brief descriptions and allusions to sexual violence, brief allusions to sex trafficking, brief mentions of nazi violence and terroristic threats

note: this literally took me months to write and idk why. i’m not even sure it’s GOOD. i like it and that’s all that matters (except i, like other artist’s thrive upon reblogs)

title credit: against me!

fic aes: here

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

When Clint Barton appears in your office wearing his official A-Team uniform, you know what’s coming next. Wanda and Tony had both texted you that morning and let you know that they might need you for an interrogation, but you hadn’t held your breath. Sometimes they sent you those texts once a week and not once had they made good on your promise to help if they needed it. The coworkers that pay attention to the comings and goings of people in the office are staring as Clint Barton stalks over to your desk, tapping one knuckle against the hardwood you inherited from a retiree - possibly the nicest desk in your row of cubicles. You watch his mouth move more than you hear him speak. “Need you on three.”

Three? One of your nosier coworkers, Lisa thinks rather loudly during a pause in the song you’re listening to, That’s the interview level. Wonder what’s going on there that they need someone from Data. There is, of course, a deeper thought below that one where she believes that you’re either sleeping with someone in the Big Team or doing something underhanded and about to get reamed within an inch of your life. Neither of those things are true, but you don’t care enough to correct her as you click off your computer and stand to follow Clint. There really isn’t a way to correct her, either, without painting a big, red target on your back for what you can do. You’re sure that if they’ve sent one of the Avengers to collect you that the situation is dire - and you don’t think that because you’ve wormed around in his head, either.

That’s just the nature of people needing you.

Besides, when you’re working you have the most mind-numbing metal playing through your headphones at all times. It makes it easier to focus on your work instead of the thoughts around you. You wouldn’t be able to hear Clint if he was holding onto your shoulders and screaming into your mouth. That’s the way you like it - the way you need to keep it so you can actually make a living as a data entry grunt for the Stark Association. (Although most of the work that you do is for the new Avengers - handling all of the absolute bullshit paperwork that comes from the times that they’re out and saving the world.) He seems to understand you the most out of anyone you’ve met besides Wanda and Tony - not that you see the A-Team much, but you’ve caught him several different times rolling his eyes and stepping away from the group or just reaching up and turning off his hearing aids. If anyone is going to not feel weird about not saying anything to you as you walk through the hallways, it’s Clint.

He leaves you at the elevator, not bothering to take you to floor three. Clint cuts you a look as the doors close that essentially says you know where to go, right? If you hadn’t been putting your entire body and mind into keeping yourself out of his head, you might have even heard it. As it is, you can’t keep your music playing and do your job, so as the elevator descends you unplug yourself from the music and tuck your phone back into your back pocket. As you pass floors, voices come in and out of focus. It makes you slightly dizzy at the rate at which you gain access to strangers’ heads and are then yanked out of them. Even after your entire life like this, you’ve never gotten used to it.

-I think my brother is cheating on his-

-And then Rhonda from HR said-

-Did you see the guy they hauled in-

-So much fucking paperwork-

You practically throw yourself off of the elevator when it stops on the third floor. It’s much quieter there but that’s only because you’re too far away from the interrogation room that everyone is gathered in. Clint didn’t tell you what room to go to, but you know when you’re close. You can feel Wanda prodding at the air, waiting for you and reaching out to you - plus, there seems to be a rather large crowd waiting for your arrival.

Before you even open the door you know that Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Wanda are waiting behind it. You stop short when you also see James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff. You hadn’t heard them. “Crowded room.” You deadpan before stepping into the hug Wanda is offering you. It’s hard, then, to keep your cool façade on because physical touch amplifies your connections and she doesn’t have a lot of the limits that you do - just like she has limits that you don’t have. You’re hit with a wave of everything before you kiss the side of her forehead and take three large side steps away from her. Everyone but Tony and Wanda cut you suspicious looks but you’re used to it. It’s been like that since before Tony flipped open your file and saw what you can do.

“Can’t crack this one?” You gesture to the man behind the one-way glass - his body language shows that he’s proud and open, not all worried about what’s happening or where he is. There’s an easy grin on his face, teeth all white and straightened by money, and his blond hair is tied back in a high bun.

“Not even Cap can get it out of him,” Tony leans against the glass casually, like he isn’t resorting to activating the last clause in your employment contract. Steve Rogers bristles at the nickname. His thoughts wash over you briefly, despite the fact that you were trying to keep out of everyone’s head.

-Pointless to bring in some stranger from data entry. Probably doesn’t even know the first thing about running an interrogation-

You shake your head, blinking long and slow to try and push him out. Wanda watches with furrowed brows as your hands subtly begin to shake at your sides. Coolly, you shift your weight and tuck them into the pockets of your slacks so nobody else picks up on it. So that she can’t call you out on it. “What’s he in for?” You say as you open your eyes. Barely two seconds have passed. The frown has fallen from your face.

-Can’t even look at anyone in the room besides Tony or Wanda. I’ll give this two minutes before it crumbles and we have to pick up the damn mess-

You sigh and press your lips together in a tight, tense smile. Sam and Bucky share a look at your sudden change in facial expression but you’re more focused on the information that Natasha begins reading off of a folder in front of her.

Well, reading is a strong word.

She’s staring straight at you while reciting everything, like she’s trying to gauge your reaction. You’re pretty talented at not having any reaction, despite being self-trained. The man behind the glass is Tanner Smith, a known Nazi sympathizer, and extremist. When his coworkers reported strange behavior to his boss - being late, excessive sweating, talking about a big event and the change that would soon be coming - his boss reported his suspicions to the higher-ups. Strange, considering how calm and collected he is now. How had he been so careless about the plans only to stare the barrel of an Avengers colored gun down like a pro?

Still, after a brief investigation and dive into his electronics by the boys in blue, he ended up in the Avengers compound. There’d been chatter online between Tanner and a group of extremists. Natasha only briefed you on that a little bit, telling you that one bomb had already been planted somewhere and another was in the works. Nobody knows where the first one had been put, except maybe Tanner and he isn’t talking. But he will talk, you know this. Maybe that’s why when you catch a stray man, I really hope Tony knows what he’s doing bringing in an analyst to interrogate from Sam, and then we shouldn’t be bringing in insignificant rookies to do our jobs from Steve that you grind your teeth a little bit.

“Don’t worry,” You take a deliberate breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, just like you taught yourself, “We’ll have the location before the end of the hour. I may just be an insignificant little analyst but I know what I’m doing.”

Sam doesn’t seem to catch what you’ve said but Steve, who had been standing with his arms crossed while he looked away and toward the floor, snaps to attention with his mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed. The only reaction you give is a twitch of your upper lip, the urge to peel it back and expose your teeth angrily sitting heavy in the hollow of your throat. You know he’s Captain America, but come on, man! You keep the compound running just as much as he does! (If not more. Who else would reply to the invoices sent your way for the damage he does when he throws a desk out the window or something?)

Natasha moves to hand you Tanner’s file but you wave her off before she can get too close. You’re getting nothing from her right now and you want to keep it that way. There aren’t many people that are hard for you to read, and you think that if she’s still blank after being this close to you for a little bit - well, you might just have to become friends with her. That goes for Bucky, too. He’s standing even closer than Natasha is, a little over six feet away from you, and you’ve got nothing. He watches you refuse the file and his eyebrows hike to his hairline, mimicking Steve and Sam who stand on either side of him.

How arrogant.

Huh, really confident.

The latter thought from Sam helps keep you from bristling at Steve’s assessment of you. You wonder what his issue is with you not needing the file when Natasha didn’t need it either, but you understand he’s probably strung tight about finding that bomb and bringing a stranger in to do his job. (And you’d taken a thought he’d had in the privacy of his own head and thrown it back in his face to be petty.)

As you shed your jacket you think about how he was only in his late twenties when he went into the ice. Perhaps he’s over one hundred years old in the eyes of the law, but mentally he’s not even halfway through his life or the development of his self-identity.

As you breeze into the interrogation room, you wonder how much of his self-identity revolves around what they did to him in that lab so many decades ago.

That doesn’t really matter though, because now you have to focus everything you have on getting into Tanner’s head and peeling away whatever weird protections he has that make his thoughts so… Mundane. He’s currently watching you amble about the room, hands clasped behind your back, and all he’s thinking about is his fucking grocery list. You know that he’s doing something to mask his thoughts because there’s not even an undertone to those thoughts - something everyone has. They have the thoughts they think to themselves and then the reason behind them.

Conscious and subconscious.

Tanner Smith is only having conscious thoughts and that is suspicious. You purse your lips and drop down into the chair across from him, putting the mirror the Avengers are standing behind to your left. You watch Tanner, still scanning his thoughts, for several minutes of poignant silence until he finally cracks.

“So, who are you? Their secret, special weapon?”

You tilt your head slightly, a ghost of a smirk passing over your face. His thoughts flicker and you hone in the strange reaction. “Something like that, Tanner.” You catch a glimpse, a flash of color and dirty blonde curls on a little girl who’s running away, sun flares lighting up the world around her. Warmth fills your chest as laughter echoes somewhere behind your mind, like the call-and-response of a cave, and then it’s gone, sucked away by whatever Tanner was taught to disperse his thoughts.

Surely the A-Team had Wanda try to break past his defenses, but she can’t do what you can do. Nobody can.

“What? I’m too strong so the Avengers had to run to their boss?” He sneers, clearly shaken up by your non-reaction to everything he’s done - clearly, everybody else who’s tried to get the information out of him had some sort of reaction. You’re not mirroring him, sitting purposefully neutral to oppose his faux-openness. Nothing about your interrogation technique is by the book, and it’s upsetting him. You catch another glimpse of the little girl in his thoughts, this time snagging a name from the ether. Like bad TV reception, another voice worms into your head.

We’re getting nowhere. I told Tony this was a waste of time. I should go in there and put an end to this right now.

“Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself.” You sigh, slapping your palms against your thighs half-heartedly. “Also, Captain Rogers?” You let his name hang in the air for a second, but never break eye contact with Tanner, “I would appreciate it if you took three large steps back. Or, perhaps, if you could stand at the very back of the room.” It’s only when you wait three seconds and clear your throat that his thoughts recede and your mind clears.

“Oh, so you’re crazy.” Tanner grins, leaning forward, “They thought locking me in here with a freak would make me talk and, when it didn’t, they moved on to the nut.”

You outright laugh before standing from your chair. “I hope you’re not referring to my good friend, Wanda. Compared to me, she’s normal.” You round the table once but then stop in front of the mirror, watching Tanner’s reflection over your own reflection’s shoulder. There’s something to be said about your psychological training - that is, you have none. But you do have an open funnel into the human psyche that allows you certain knowledge about how to manipulate it. This - standing at the mirror and making indirect eye contact with Tanner? It’s all about distance and showing him how insignificant he is to you.

That and you want to show Steve Hasn’t Had A Good Thought About You Rogers what he’s really fucking with.

“How’s your little sister?” You finally ask, clasping your hands behind your back again. You watch the color drain from Tanner’s face, his mind opening up as his sympathetic nervous system goes into overdrive to activate his acute stress response. He has four options now that you’ve put him in panic mode: fight, flight, fawn, freeze. “What’s her name again? Tanya? Trish? No, Tilly. Tilly and Tanner - that’s cute. Your Mom’s name is Tricia, right? She likes a theme, I suppose.”

He doesn’t respond. It seems he’s chosen to freeze.

“None of that was in your file, of course, because Smith isn’t your real last name. The social security number you’re living under isn’t your original social security number.” You blink once, pulling on that loose thread until Tanner’s mind completely opens to yours. From the corner of your eye, you watch as a milky sheen begins to cover your iris and obscure the color. Tanner whimpers as his iris begins to dissolve, falling away until he matches your white, colorless eyes. You feel more than hear the thoughts on the other side of the glass turn to panic, but it’s easy to shut them out when you’re so focused on the link you now have with your suspect.

When you speak again, your voice is overlaid with his despite his mouth not moving. “Oh, you care about your family.” He flinches but can’t say anything. Won’t say anything. “I see it, right there.” Your head tilts as you begin to dig through his head, prying at seals and locks he’s put on memories - both painful and happy. “Oh, she’s only nine. So precious, so young. So naïve to the ways of the world. To what her older brother does for a living. To what he believes, and what he’s willing to do to support those beliefs.”

“Stop it,” Tanner says, your voice underneath his. You hum more than laugh, but the energy is the same and it makes him shiver.

“And lucky, too,” You continue. He’s not even fighting anymore, not that he could if he wanted to. Now that you’re inside of his head, there’s nothing anyone can do short of knocking you out. “Tricia is smart. Went to Harvard. Has Tilly living all cozy in the Hills and going to a nice, private school. Far away from you and your friends. How are the holidays? Do you go visit them? Or does your Mom ask you to stay away?”

Milk white tears break your waterline and run down your cheeks, eyes unblinking as you keep Tanner in your hold. “Please,” His dual-tone voice whimpers, “Leave them out of this.”

You click your tongue, a hint of a smile ghosting over your lips and the crinkles next to your eyes. “I don’t think I will. See, I know where they live. I know where they sleep. I know how you get in contact with them. I know everything about them now. You’ve given that to me.” He physically jerks but can’t get away from you - you’re everywhere in his mind. He’s falling further and further into you just like you’re falling into his mind. Soon, the two of you will fall into one person. You’ll have to get the information quickly so that doesn’t happen. “You’ll give me where you planted that bomb, too.”

“No,” Tanner resists. You feel the tug on your own mind, his psyche - whether consciously or subconsciously - trying to sew up the hollow you carved out for yourself. Your eyebrows furrow, but barely. “No, I won’t. It needs to happen. They need to see that we’re serious.” He slams one fist down on the table in front of him and fights against you even harder.

You sigh, shoulders barely moving with the breath. The world begins to fall away piece by piece as the white in your eyes slowly begins to shift; swirling darker and darker until your once white eyes are filled to the brim with gray and then, a second later, black. It leaks down your cheeks as you speak directly into his brain, mouth never moving. “If you do not tell me, I will take it from you.”

The room around you crumbles until you’re standing in a black abyss, still looking at Tanner in the reflection of a mirror that’s not there. He reels back in a chair that’s not there either, clutching at the sides of his head as you dig around in his memories.

Childhood, his first kiss, the indoctrination into his extremist beliefs. Somewhere around last week, you slow down, peeling layer from layer until you find what you’re looking for. With the exact location and the time it’s set to explode, you sever the connection and you’re back in the interrogation room. The inky proof of what you’ve done is tacky on your face and Tanner is facedown on the table, shoulders heaving as he sobs and claws at the side of his head, incoherently mumbling about the things you showed him in his head that he doesn’t even remember. Memories that are his, but aren’t, because they’re yours. But, no, that’s not right - right? They’re his, taken from some place in his brain that only your mind can access.

The door is heavier than you remember when you leave the interrogation room and it echoes when it slams shut behind you. Everyone, bar Wanda and Tony who have both seen you do this once before, is staring at you as if you’re going to snap on them too. Blissfully, your mind has shut everything out in order to try and recoup from what you’ve done. It won’t last long. Wanda hands you a wet wipe and smiles sadly, knowing, or maybe feeling, how much you hated doing that to someone.

To climb inside their skull and take the precious privacy of memories is the loss of your humanity. To take that sacred space from someone is the unholiest sacrament you’ve ever taken. Despite the gnawing hole in your chest, you’d do it over again if it means saving lives - even if it ruins one or two in the process. You’ve had many years to come to terms with what you can do if you put your mind to it.

Though, you suppose, that doesn’t make it any easier.

Nobody speaks as you clean your face and neck. Sam does, however, gesture to the chest of your shirt where your shirt is stained. You ignore the look on his face and turn to Tony. “It’s in Central Park,” You’re almost surprised when your voice is just yours, not overtone or undertone to pollute it, “No specific target, not really. Just to create fear. The group will take credit. They probably set Tanner up to take the fall because, for all intents and purposes, he’s a single man with no living family. It’s buried four paces from the tree with an x carved into it, set to go off in three days at exactly noon. I can write down the coordinates for you.” Tony grins and makes to clap you on the back, but you step away and rub at the bridge of your nose. “Don’t touch me.”

He holds his hands up, still smiling even though everyone else in the room recoiled when you snapped. “Sorry, Cullen. Good job in there. Although, will the special effects cost me more?” Underneath all of his jokes, you catch the worry in his mind as yours begins to open back up. It always works like this - the emotions are always the first to come back because they’re the building blocks of thought. Before mankind had speech, they had feelings.

And before they had feelings, they had instincts.

Several people in the room are fighting down their instincts to tear into you because you’re a threat. Blanketing that instinct is agitation and some terror at your unknown. Sam can barely contain his instinct to learn, mind humming with bright curiosity and a healthy dose of fear. Wanda and Tony are both fighting the urge to bundle you up, followed by the love and affection that they normally have when they think of you.

Your jaw snaps together with an audible click as Tanner comes back into focus, the shadow of his mind nearly drowning you. It arches over the room, the celestial body that is the human mind reaching out for the connection that you severed when you pulled away from him. It nearly takes you, too. It’s only when you’re nearly unconscious, body swaying and knees slowly buckling and eyes rolling to the back of your head, that Wanda realizes what’s happening and catches you with strong arms around your waist. Her bare arms slide against yours and you latch onto her mind; it’s bright and strong and wraps around yours to protect it. It takes only a second to get your bearings, but a second is enough for the sharks in the water to catch the scent of blood and strike. It’s Steve’s fists shaking that let you know he’s about to speak, but his thoughts that let you know he’s about to say something horrible. They’re muddled, running about three hundred miles a minute, but you get the gist of what he’s thinking past the fog of Wanda’s skin against yours.

“So nobody thought to inform the team that there’s a bio-weapon on the compound’s campus?”

“Steve!” Sam exclaims, looking more shocked than he actually feels. The term had floated through his prefrontal cortex once or twice since your eyes had flooded white. “Chill out, man.”

“No, I will not chill out,” Steve sneers, “Didn’t anyone think that was important?”

“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupts, moving to stand between you and the Captain, “Weren’t you the one who yelled at me for calling someone a weapon of mass destruction?” You groan deep in the back of your throat when Wanda’s emotions flash through you like lightning and she immediately lets you go, moving to sit next to Natasha on the metal table that lines the wall opposite of you. The distance helps, but there are a lot of strong personalities in one room and you’re a little more open and sensitive than usual.

Your stomach churns and you think about pulling your phone out to put on some music, but that might make Steve actually snap. Bucky knocks him on the shoulder with the back of one hand, “Cool off, pal. You hardly get to take the high ground here when you essentially started another world war for me.”

“That’s different.” Steve grits out.

“What’s your name, kid?” Bucky ignores him, leaning around Tony to talk directly to you. He repeats your name after you give it, grinning, “Does this mean you’re pokin’ around in all our heads now?”

“Probably,” Natasha supplies before you can answer, swinging her legs. “You saw what happened in there. I’m surprised we’re not leaking CSF out of our ears.”

“It’s not like that, I can’t do stuff like that,” You protest weakly, leaning against the wall, “Besides, you and Barnes are like steel freakin’ traps. I don’t have shit on you ever.”

“What about me?” Sam tries to take a step forward, eager and bright in the darkness that surrounds the outskirts of your vision with the tension in the room, but Steve stops him with a heavy hand. “I bet you don’t have anythin’ on me either.” He boasts from behind his friend’s grip.

“You’re an open book,” You shake your head, trying to bite back your small smile, “Always have been. I can catch your thoughts practically before you have them.” Tony finally relaxes as you push off of the wall, putting a hand on your shoulder and carefully avoiding touching his skin to yours. “Tony and Wanda, too, but that’s only because I know them so well.”

“If you can’t fry us from the inside out, what can you do?” Steve narrows his eyes at you and it’s almost like he’s aiming his thoughts at you, trying to test how you’ll react. Your name, wondering about your file, wondering about your life from birth until now, some scenarios that involve grievous bodily harm to you should anything happen.

You don’t need to be a telepath to get the memo: Steve Rogers does not like you.

“Mind stuff,” Tony supplies when you’ve been silent for too long, focused on how much one man can possibly hate a person he’s just met. “Y’know, the Edward and Jasper Cullen combo. Without the confederacy and racism, of course.”

“Mind reading,” Wanda fills in when only Sam and Natasha get the reference, “And, with intense focus and strain, peeling away the layers of the human brain that protect from people like us. I’m not as good, of course, because mine’s not exactly natural, but what you saw was the extreme end of the spectrum.”

You nod, leaning further and further into Tony’s grasp. She’s right when she says it’s the extreme side of the spectrum - you’ve only reached that far into someone once before and then, when you were nearly a decade younger than now and not as half as confident that you really were hearing thoughts and not just voices, it left you bed-bound and comatose for eight months. Even now, with another ten years and endless experience under your belt, the only thing keeping you from woozily toppling over is Tony’s hand on your shoulder. “Mostly it’s just thoughts and their constructs. Instincts. Emotions. Every mind is different and every person thinks differently. I just have tools to put the puzzle together and figure out what it means.”

“What about Steve?” Natasha cocks her head, taking a sharp left in the conversation. “He’s going to have a stick up his ass about this until you tell us if he has a steel trap of a mind, too.” And, shit, they’re all looking at you. You hate being looked at, being watched, being feared. If you were normal, if you couldn’t read someone’s thoughts or pry them open like an overripe fruit, nobody would pay any mind to you.

Tony shakes you to bring you back to earth and his hand barely glimpses over your bare bicep. You get coffee and good morning kisses and burning around the metal in your chest before you step away from him too. You curl in on yourself, tucking your shoulders up and crossing your arms over your chest so nobody will be tempted to fucking touch you anymore. Your stomach is rolling as the dark edges around your vision threaten to take you again. You just want to leave, run away, make your way into the forest like you used to dream about as a child.

Sucking your teeth, you look away from everyone and try to figure out how to explain what Steve’s mind is like. “He’s like a fucking beacon,” Is what you finally settle on, “It’s like he’s projecting every thought he’s ever had, or standing next to my ear and shouting down a megaphone.” When you glance back everyone has bristled, which is to be expected. They deal with a lot of confidential information - Steve reads every mission report from the agents. He reads the team’s, too. “I don’t try to listen, but man you’re loud. But go stand in an elevator with someone while they read their grocery list for three hours and see how much you actually pay attention to what they’re saying, though. I don’t retain anything if we’re ever close enough for me to latch on.”

“Stop reading my thoughts.” He says, hands balled into fists at his sides, “Get out of my head.”

“I would get out of everyone’s head if I could,” You spit back, looking at him just as angrily as he’s looking at you, “I get that even being alive with these abilities is nothing but a huge invasion of privacy to you, but have some empathy. Do you think I like havin’ everyone in my head twenty-four-seven? The shit I deal with that I can't explain to anyone? If I could stop doing this, I would - even if it fucking killed me.” The silence that falls is nearly suffocating and it does nothing to help you pull away from the black hole suction of Tanner’s mind. You rub the bridge of your nose again, fingers moving to smooth over your forehead, and squeeze your temples. The pressure in the room is driving you to the edge, and if you don’t get away soon you’ll either crack everyone in the room open like walnuts or fully mind-meld with Tanner and lose the essence of who you are.

“Oh,” Steve volleys back, head rolling back dramatically, “Right, have empathy for you.”

“You don’t even know me,” It doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room as you begin to shuffle back toward the door. Your head feels like it’s going to explode if you don’t get away from so many open and prying minds. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Steve says coldly. His chin tilts up, a small but sharp smile on his face. It doesn’t startle you because you can practically taste his thoughts at the back of your throat. He’s throwing them at you now, wanting you to see what’s coming before he says it. That doesn’t mean everyone else in the room isn’t surprised at how strangely he’s acting - and you know the next thing he says isn’t only going to hurt you but hurt Wanda as well. “I know enough to know that anyone who can do what you do is a monster.”

The paper taped to the front of your door is bright yellow and horrifying. You know what it says the second you lay eyes on it because Tony and Wanda have been floating the idea of making you a member of the A-Team for days after they peeled you off of Steve Rogers in the interrogation room. And, well… So, yeah, maybe you got a good punch in and, yeah, maybe you were suspended for a week without pay but who wouldn’t have done that? Who wouldn’t have felt the wash of excruciating pain from one of their best friends and sought retribution for a shitty thing said? You’d do it again if you were being honest. Since you threw that punch Steve Rogers hasn’t said one bad thing about you or what you can do - at least, not when Wanda can hear.

It’s something, you guess.

The paper on your door is exactly what you think it is: a fucking eviction notice signed by Tony Stark himself. He cites nonpayment and noise complaints despite the fact that he is not your landlord nor have you had any complaints or missed payments. The smiley face after his signature is enough for you to know that he already has an apartment for you ready and waiting in the Avengers wing. You unlock the door with your key and find all of your things gone.

Sighing you toss the key into what used to be your hallway and turn around. You just want to go to bed, really, because work sucked today and has been sucking since word got out that you’re a mind reader who attacked Captain America. (Gee, wonder how that got around.) By the time you make it across the compound to where Wanda and Tony are lounging unnaturally in the common room grinning at each other when they catch sight of you… Your back aches and your nerves are fried.

“So, I will be killing you, Stark. It will be a cruel and unusual death. I’ll probably violate the Geneva Convention for fun.” You drop your bag near the couch, kick his feet off the coffee table, and then land another kick to his shin. He yelps. “You can’t just move my shit out of my apartment without asking and put me in the same wing as Ye Olde National Hero That Wishes I Was Dead.” Wanda pulls you into the seat next to her, draping her arm around your shoulders. Thankfully, you’re both wearing long shirts but you still pull your sleeves down over your hands just in case.

“But we’ll be so much closer to each other. We can have movie nights.” She pouts at you because she knows it’ll work, and it does. “You’re not even in the same hallway as Steve.” You feel the weight of his name on her mind because their relationship still hasn’t healed despite how ardently he’d apologized after Tony enlisted Sam to push you from the interrogation room. You’d heard his voice echo down the hallway, paired with Natasha and Tony lighting into him over his attempt to make it right.

“Hey now,” Someone says from behind you, “You shouldn’t lie about that.” Sam comes into view, grinning at the way you tilt your head over the edge of the couch to see him. “Hey, what’s up, Vulcan? Get your little love note from Tony?” Sam had warmed up to you rather quickly after he saw how easily you extracted information from that little Hydra-wannabe-freak and how easily you would throw yourself at people who could crush you to protect the honor of your friends. He moves around the couch to perch in one of the large, cushy chairs. You wrinkle your nose and shake your head as he laughs.

“You can call it a love note when he finds a bucket of pig’s blood above his Iron Man suit before your next mission,” You reply coolly, “But yes, I did. I assume all of my furniture is already set up? Clothes unpacked? Privacy rifled through because you have no boundaries?” You cut a dark look toward your friend - and now, technically, boss.

“Of course it is, and of course I do.” Tony says, reclining like he hadn’t been massaging his sore shin for the last few minutes, “And Wanda isn’t lying, per se, Feathers. She just doesn’t know I had to make changes to the housing arrangement.”

Wanda makes an affronted noise. “You said that the room between Natasha and I was free and that would be the best place. Because of the mind-stuff.” You look between them, and hone in on Tony - but he catches on to what you’re doing and snaps his mind shut. Christ, you wish that Wanda hadn’t taught him how to do that so effectively. He used to be so easy to read.

“What did you do, Tony?” You sit up, moving away from Wanda as something like fear swells in your stomach. It’s probably the look on your face, but he looks almost ashamed and shifts uncomfortably. “Sam?” It becomes clear that Tony isn’t going to answer, so you look to another ally for any sort of answer. The smile slips from his face and he shakes his head.

“You’re between Buck’n Steve. I’m across the way, though.” He shrugs and you scoff, looking back at Tony.

“That’s what we’re doin’ now?” You snarl, pushing off of the couch just to pull away from Tony as he does the same. He says your name, ready to explain why he’s done what he’s done, “No, no! You know what he said to me - what he thinks of me. This may be a joke to you, but that man has single-handedly ruined every friendship I have outside of this team, Tony. Do you get that?” You swear you’re not going to cry, but your throat is burning in the sort of hollow way that indicates that you’re absolutely going to cry. “This is such bullshit.”

Instead of crying, you turn and run. Everyone watches the familiar mask slip over you, the way that you turn on your heel and head for the back garden of the compound. There aren’t a lot of people who know of or go to the back garden and that’s why you like it there. It’s small, overgrown, and when you sit or lay in the middle you can’t be seen unless someone is nearly standing on top of you. Once upon a time you’d tasked yourself to take care of it until that left you feeling vulnerable and just a little too seen without the tendrils of vine that tend to get out of control and hide your body. You crawl under one of the bushes and find the hollow you’d made for yourself, settling in on your side so you’re fully hidden.

This is the quiet that you like. There’s nobody around, so no need to put your headphones in. Just you, your breathing, and the rustling of leaves and flowers. It’s the only real quiet that you get - that you’ll get for the foreseeable future. The Avengers are notorious around your office for almost being like a pack. When there’s one, there’s always another lurking around somewhere. You suppose that comes from whatever trauma bonds they’ve formed living and almost dying together for so many years, but you’ve lived most of your life in a self-imposed solitary confinement of sorts. (Until Tony found you, that is.) The quiet helps you sort through your thoughts, and as you let the sunshine filter through the foliage above you and warm your skin you try to think of what you’re going to do. You can’t spend the rest of your life with headphones in your ears, volume turned up to eleven just so you can keep some semblance of dignity and self esteem.

But you can’t quit, either.

It’s a conundrum, because leaving means that you won’t help people. What’s the point of being able to read minds if you can’t help people with it? You can keep yourself safe, keep the team safe, keep civilians safe. You can pull information without ever making contact with a target, you’re perfect for undercover ops, perfect as a plant to support undercover ops. Your powers make you useful, and you’ve always known that.

The clear air and warm sun presents you with a solution: if Steve Rogers is the only one that hates you for what you can do, you have to make yourself integral to the team. You have to prove that you belong, that you’re simultaneously not a threat but also one of the biggest threats. it shouldn’t matter what he thinks of you, but it does. Of course it does. You’re not immune to hearing the stories of the nation's number one hero throughout your childhood. You’d found a fucked up little comradery in his story: someone who thought he was useless but wanted more, someone who had done everything in his power to make himself important and strong, someone who’d faced more than anyone could ever imagine but still kept going, someone who did good despite everything they saw.

And, just perhaps, you harbor a crush on the man after seeing him in real life your first week at the data analyst job. So what? Who didn’t have a crush on the six foot four American hero? You’re pretty sure even Tony has a little bit of a soft spot for the Good Captain’s strong jawline and broad shoulders.

You sigh, a little sleepy as the sun warms you. The thoughts of what you’re going to do fade away as you drift to sleep, relaxing into the grass and other leaves that surround you. It’s nice to be able to relax fully, not worried about what you’re going to overhear as you let your mind wander. As sleep begins to take you further and further into their grasp your mind opens up - like hiking through the mountains and then coming to a split: the humdrum of your everyday life and struggles are the mountains, careening into the open air and sleep is opening up your eyes to the sky between them. You relish in that, the moments between sleep and wake when you’re most relaxed.

You’re always half-conscious of where you’re at when you’re asleep, never fully resting, so when someone enters the garden on the other side you catch onto their mind right away. It’s always harder to figure out who’s mind you’re invading when you’re like this - light and half gone - so it doesn’t dawn on you that you’re hearing Steve until it’s too late to get up and leave. Slowly you wake up, trying to pull yourself out of his head, but it’s hard to do that when he’s thinking about you. Your name crops up again and again - he’s worrying about what to do with you, but in an abstract way that’s hard to decipher what he means. Clearly Steve has thought about this before so he’s not exactly spelling things out for himself, so it’s hard for you to understand what he means when he thinks things like I wonder how Tony would take it and I’m getting ahead of myself, here. He’s frustrated, that much is clear, and he’s sitting on the other side of the decrepit, overgrown, unused fountain. Too close for you to pull out your phone and start some music in your headphones, definitely too close for you to get up and escape. You’re stuck.

It feels like more of an invasion of privacy than normal, which makes your stomach churn. A lot of your life is spent trying to be the least invasive you can be for the comfort of others and, while the rest of the team doesn’t care that you do what you do, he’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like you or your telepathy. So now, curled up in your safe place with Steve twelve or thirteen feet away, you can’t even enjoy the day before you have to spend the night on the other side of his wall. Your thoughts are so loud, so upsetting, that Steve’s fall to the wayside.

At least there’s that.

By the time he gets up and leaves you’ve made the decision that the garden can’t be your spot any longer. If there’s a chance that Steve will show up in the back garden while you’re there you’ll just have to find another place to go for quiet. It’s just another sacrifice you’ll have to make because of the way you were born. It’s another sacrifice that nobody knows you’re making.

When you finally extract yourself from your hiding spot the sun is dipping toward the horizon and your joints are stiff. You’ve calmed down from the initial shock of being stuck on the other side of Steve’s wall and come to terms with it. Plus, Bucky will be on the other side of you and he’s blissfully silent. You’ll struggle with having Sam across the hall, but if you spent eight hours a day with headphones in when you were just a data entry grunt, you can probably handle eight hours a night with headphones strapped to your skull like you're going through medical tests.

The common room is empty when you walk through, but it’s not like you need help finding your room. All you have to do is follow the sound of Sam and Bucky’s laughter, followed by a groan from Steve. Once you’re in the right hallway it’s easy to find your room - Tony has left another little note on your door and you rip it off without even reading it and try to make as little noise as possible. Sam’s thoughts don’t change, but Steve’s takes such a sharp turn toward you that you freeze in place. You know it’s a moot point because he can hear your heartbeat and he’s thinking about how he can hear your heartbeat. True to Tony’s word, your furniture is in the same spots that it was in your old room - down to the socks you left behind your couch three days ago. This helps you throw yourself blindly toward your bed, snagging your headphones on the way so that you can drown Steve and Sam out - and hopefully get some sleep.

As the music kicks up and you have something more than thoughts to focus on, the tears well in your eyes and crest down your cheeks. There’s no telling how long you’ll have to stay on the Avengers before you can fade into the background - there’s no telling how long you’ll be able to stay on the Avengers, really. How long can you sacrifice yourself just to save other people? How many months before you lose who you are in an interrogation room to try and bring justice about? How long before you can’t stand to be around Steve and his thoughts that still stray to you?

The first time Steve thinks a complimentary thought toward you is during a group training exercise in preparation for a mission that’s coming up. You’re off to the side with Peter - who thinks way too fast for you to pick up anything more than a word here or there, thankfully - when you catch a thought from another observing agent. It’s a big deal to be offered an observational spot when the Avengers are training, so the fact that your subconscious filter for nefarious thoughts picks up on anything from the other agents is surprising. The thought makes your stomach twist and you squint your eyes toward the man that they're coming from.

They’re lewd - that’s not really surprising because people have the right to think lewd thoughts and if you weren’t you nobody would know they were having them - but this man’s thoughts are leaning more toward dangerous than horny. Natasha’s face swims in his head, his inner voice thick with lust. His thoughts come in waves as he watches Natasha spar with Bucky, but none of them are on how lethal the fight would be if it were anyone besides Nat and Bucky on the mat together.

I bet she’d taste good.

I wonder if she’d scream.

I bet if I found her alone I could -

Your head begins to spin and you clamp a hand over your mouth and partially collapse into Peter’s side. The man’s thoughts turn darker and darker and you’re stuck, forced to listen to them. He doesn’t even know and that might be the worst part. Peter calls your name slowly, shaking your shoulders when you don’t respond.

“I’m fine,” You finally say, despite the way that you’re shaking and the fact that you didn’t even hear what he said - not really. The man’s thoughts take up most of your bandwidth because he’s so eager, and so loud, that you can’t even reach for the team’s minds to cover them up. “It’s fine.” Blood swims behind your eyes, but it’s not real. The man wishes it were real.

“Do you need me to go get Tony? Or - or Wanda, maybe?”

“I’m fine, Peter.” You shake your head and push yourself back up to support yourself. It might be because you’re focusing on the man in your quest to not focus on him, but you’ve missed the fact that Bucky and Nat are done sparring. You also realize that his thoughts are the only ones you’re catching, even with Peter sitting on the mat next to you. You’re not peeling back at his mind’s defenses like you’d done to Tanner but his mind is in such clear focus because of the danger his thoughts present that you might as well have been opening him up layer by disgusting layer.

When he gets up and makes toward Natasha on the edge of the mat, you move without thinking. Peter calls your name again, drawing more attention than you’d care for, but the man doesn’t look away from his target. When you reach him it’s like your vision tunnels. The only thing you can think about are the disgusting images in his head, the way he’s planning on asking Natasha out so that he can get her alone, the things he wants to do to her. Without thinking about the consequences to what you’re about to do you shove at the man as soon as you’re able to. He stumbles sideways but catches himself before he eats shit.

“Hey, what the fuck?” The man, Rick someone thinks, is almost two feet taller than you. He’s built like a super-soldier without the serum but that doesn’t deter you. “What was that for?”

“I know what you’re planning,” You stare him down, snarling, “I know what you want, and it’s not goin’ to happen.”

To Rick’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. He does, however, think: What is this freak going on about? “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He glances over his shoulder at his friends, gesturing at you and snickering. You laugh darkly, lips peeling back over your teeth, and shove at his shoulders again.

“Fine, you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? Spar me and you can go on and ask the Black Widow out.” He pales and your grin widens. “Oh, do you know what I’m talkin’ about now, Rick?” It's easy to slip into a person that you're not, just like you had in the interrogation room.

He scoffs and crosses his arms, mind sizing you up in all of the ways he thinks he could hurt you. “I’m not going to fight you. I’d break you like a twig.” Rick squints his eyes like he’s said something important but his thoughts are still half on Natasha - who’s watching you with curious eyes. Most of the team is, actually, and Peter is whispering harshly to Tony.

“So do it,” You challenge, jerking your chin up with a feral grin on your face, “If you break me like a twig you can ask her whatever you fucking want,” You keep your voice low so that your threat can’t be heard, “But you won’t win. I’ll stomp your ass into the ground and make you wish that you'd never been born.” That must be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because Rick heaves one of his meaty fists back and goes for a sucker punch. You’re one step ahead of him, because you’re you, and you take one step back to avoid it. He tries again, but you duck out of the way and slide around him to sweep his leg out from underneath his body. Rick stumbles but you don’t give him any time to recover before you’re on him, wrapping your arm around his neck from behind and using his own weight to drop him on his chest to the mat. It takes all of twenty seconds.

He struggles to unlatch you from his neck, but can’t get a good grip because as soon as he manages to get his fingers around your arm, you pull tighter around his neck. His thoughts are scrambled as he tries to figure out how to get you off of him and turn the tides of the pitiful fight he’s put up, but you’ve already decided that Rick will either tap or you’ll keep pressure on his throat until he passes out. Part of you - the dark and vengeful part that gets stuck in other people's heads and sees the most disgusting, evil parts of humanity - wants to keep his throat pressed against the crook of your elbow until he goes limp and cold. That part of you wants to neutralize the threat he presents, but there's a rational part of you that knows a thought is not a crime. There would be no justification to kill him - that doesn't mean you can't teach him a lesson, though.

Rick begins frantically tapping when his vision begins to tunnel, and you can practically taste his fear. His skin pressed to yours heightens everything about his thoughts, blurring your own until they're nonexistent and you can't hear anything but the floundering, heart-stopping fear that blooms in his chest when you don't let up. You want to kill him, want to erase his fucked up thoughts from the earth forever but you can't. When Rick goes limp in your arms you drop him, taking several small steps away from where his body is splayed face down on the training mat. You’re heaving in breath like you’re drowning, feeling phantom blood dropping down your arms, off of your fingers. It’s not real but it’s real, it’s Natasha’s, it’s swimming in your brain and pooling in your mouth and making your body shiver as it cools on your skin.

The blood is not real, but it feels like it is.

Tony is the first to reach you, but Wanda isn't far behind him. Your chest is heaving and your head is spinning but they help ground you as you collapse in on yourself, whispering the things you'd heard to just get them out of your head. Tony, to his credit, holds you tightly against his chest as you sag and confess to sins that aren't yours but you've had to take on because of the things you can do. His skin pressed to yours is a balm, but he's shaking, too. His thoughts are turning dark in the same ways that yours had and, well, so are Wanda's. It's overwhelming.

The bright side of having two people who know you so well is that they know when they have to pass you off to someone else or risk sending you hurtling over the edge. Tony's chest rumbles with his voice as he does his best to remove your arms from around his waist, "Cap, need you to take over here. I've got something to deal with." Somewhere in your haze, you realize that Steve has taken you into his arms, but stiffly. He’s practiced and sure in avoiding your skin and it almost makes you weep. Coming off of your adrenaline is rough - and you want nothing more than to feel someone’s skin on yours. You need the balm of someone who’s not afraid to touch you, someone to tell you that you are not a weapon, you are not dangerous, you deserve to be held.

Steve doesn’t say any of those things. He takes you back to the common room just to get you out of sight of the observing agents, but the walk there is a blur of aching muscles and the beginnings of a headache. When he drops you on the couch you begin to spiral, panic welling in your chest at the thought of what’s about to happen to you. You’d attacked someone unprovoked for what they were thinking. Thoughts are not crimes - but he was going to act on them, you rationalize. He was on the move. Still. Still. Still.

Steve has dumped you on the couch and left the room, there’s no doubt in your mind that your tenure as an Avenger is coming to an end once Tony gets a hold of you. You curl around yourself as the throbbing in your head begins to recede and other thoughts begin to filter in from people in the area. Steve must be close because his are the loudest. He must be in the kitchen and, as much as he hates the fact that you can read his mind, you focus on what he’s thinking. His thoughts are a bright spot in the dark cloud that’s grown over you in the moments since Rick’s thoughts started coming in clearer.

Maybe some water. Looks like a panic attack - what did Buck say helped?

He doesn’t sound like he’s angry and that makes you calm down a little bit. At least he’s trying to take care of you, although it sounds like he’s fumbling around the shared kitchen like he’s fumbling over whatever Bucky’s told him about how to calm down panic attacks. You haven’t moved except to curl into the fetal position so when Steve comes back with a wet and cool washcloth for your face he practically has to peel your arms away from your head. The moment his fingers wrap around your wrist his thoughts are injected into your head like he’s speaking them out loud.

-Good form. Surprisingly quick. Must be the mind reading thing, can see the attacks coming before the opponent moves.-

He presses the washcloth to your forehead and you shudder, leaning into the gentle touch. It’s strange and you’re surprised that he didn’t just leave you on the couch to suffer until someone else found you - but you won’t mention anything about that. Steve Rogers is being nice to you and, better yet, he’s thinking positive things about you. It’s like Rick actually did snap you like a twig and this is a fever dream. Or a death rattle.

-Quick fight. That agent didn’t even stand a chance. Bet I wouldn’t either if we sparred. Glad we didn’t get to that. I’m not sure that I could do that thing that Wanda’s been trying to teach me-

His thoughts screech to a halt even though he doesn’t move his hands from your head. Clearly Steve has realized that he’s been feeding you his thoughts like an IV; you can feel the embarrassment welling up in the back of his head as he tries, and fails, to occupy his mind with anything but the replay of your short but impressive takedown of Rick. Finally, you pull away from his hands and sigh. “Sorry,” You move the washcloth over your eyes so that you don’t have to look at him as he kneels in front of you, “Know you don’t like me pokin’ ‘round in your head.”

To his credit, he only hesitates for a few seconds. “Do you always react like this? Almost pass out when you’re in someone’s head like that?”

“Didn’t go searchin’,” You practically groan, “Didn’t have to. Always tried to find the bad thoughts to keep an eye on people havin’ ‘em. Rick was loud.” You jump when Steve’s hand curves back over your shoulder and that’s when you realize that you’re shaking like a leaf and starting to cry. “His were bad. Had to do somethin’ before he acted on ‘em. He was goin’ to, otherwise, I would have just dealt with it like I have before.” It doesn’t make sense as to why Steve’s thoughts haven’t turned sour, but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“See a lot of this stuff?”

“People don’t believe in mind-readers,” You shake your head and immediately regret it when your stomach rolls and you groan lowly, “And, and thoughts aren’t always intentional. Some are intrusive. Hard to tell the difference when you’re not the one havin’ em.” You have to be imagining the turn his thoughts take - clearly, Rick actually got one good hit in because Steve’s being nice, sweet even, to you. It’s strange, but you’re not going to complain. The skin-to-skin contact is so nice you’re almost afraid that you’ll start sobbing when Steve pulls away again, the sound of him standing making your lip wobble and your body shudder.

“Hold on a second,” He says like he’s the one reading your mind, “I’ll go get a bowl of ice water and another washcloth so that you always have a cool one.”

Steve goes back to normal after that day. Tony had come and informed you that several cadets had reported Rick for inappropriate behavior but nobody had any proof until you beat his ass. He was proud of you, but worried about how you reacted. He’d never seen that before, and neither had Wanda. Scared Peter half to death, too, but you assured them it was normal. Told them to imagine someone describing what you’d heard out loud and then imagine not getting sick to their stomach or losing their cool. Then everything goes back to semi-normal.

Natasha finally lets you in, and that’s about the only thing that really changes. The both of you become fast friends and you know it’s real because you can’t read her thoughts. She doesn’t have to be afraid to be around you when she’s in a bad mood or just having a bad day, making the bond that you form much stronger. It seems with her acceptance of you, the rest of the team follows suit. Sure, Tony and Wanda had already been your friends - family, really - and Sam had been interested in being your friend but after they saw Natasha suggesting books for you to read it was like they all decided you’re one of them. A real, bona fide Avenger.

If only your parents could see you now.

Even Steve stops giving you the stink-eye when you join them for movie night, typically squashed between Nat and Bucky or curled into Wanda’s side with a blanket barrier between the both of you. It’s like the day he’d nursed you through the migraine until Tony and Wanda came to the common room had flown a white flag between the both of you.

You still don’t go back to your garden, though. And you miss it, especially on days like today when you’re stressed out about your first real undercover mission. If you fuck it up, and you won’t - can’t, you’re sure that the progress you’ve made in making yourself integral to the team will be gone. (And so will the first real friends you’ve made in a long, long time but that thought makes you crank your music and hide out in your room so you don’t even bother with that.)

The mission isn’t even really a mission - you’re going into a country club to figure out who the mark is; the intel that Tony was given only says that there’s someone there funneling girls from middle-eastern countries to America illegally for… Well, for nothing good.

So you’re going to go in, hang out at the country club and hopefully pick through the target’s mind and figure out who they were. After that, they’d send in Wanda, or maybe Nat if they thought she wouldn’t be recognized, and take down whatever smuggling ring was set up inside of the club. You sigh and try to get over the nerves of going in alone. Nobody there if you get overwhelmed, no way to muffle the thoughts from all sides, the weight of the world on your shoulders and nobody there to help you carry it. Although, hasn’t that been your life before the Avengers?

At least, you thought you were going in alone. The day of the mission finds you dressed to the nines, location transmitter tucked into a fake crown on one of your molars and comm disguised as a hearing aid tucked over your ear. Clint had warned you that they programmed the comm to squall if your head got too close to someone else’s - something that the older models of hearing aid it was made to look like did. When you finally made your appearance at the car that Tony rented out for you, complete with Peter undercover as a young driver, Steve was there. He was dressed to the nines in a black suit - it made his already large frame loom larger and his broad shoulders seem never-ending. Sweet Lord Jesus Christ Above.

“I can do this on my own,” You say as you approach, frowning at Tony. You know he’s the one that put Steve up to accompany you and the man confirms it in his thoughts. “I know I spent years being an insignificant analyst, but I’m good at what I do.”

“I know that,” Tony cuts a look toward Steve at your jab, and Steve has the decency to look and feel a little guilty, “But if we send you with an Avenger, you’re more likely to have to see and talk to a lot of people. It makes everything easier.”

“So why not go with you?” You cross your arms and try to pry Tony’s defenses from his mind so that you can find any ulterior motives that you know he has, “It makes more sense for Tony Stark to be at a country club.”

“I told you,” Steve leans against the car like he doesn’t have a care in the world, “Doesn’t make sense to have me there.”

“Come on,” Tony claps you on the shoulder and shakes you a little bit, “Live a little. Cap gets all embarrassed when people swoon over him. It’ll be fun.”

-It’ll be real fun when I put the shield through your suit during training. Could’a gotten anyone else for this mission, but had to pick me because he knows-

Steve’s mind doesn’t snap shut like Tony’s, but he does push you out of it rather quickly before he can finish the thought. You ignore him, for his sake and your own, and scowl at Tony, “Fine. You’re technically right that I’ll get to come in contact with more people, but it makes my job damn hard when they’re focused on an Avenger and not their next pickup.”

With you on board, the mission starts quickly. Peter is nervous driving you to the club, but that much is to be expected from someone so young and won’t cause any concern at the valet. He’s to stay in the car, headphones in, and pretending to study while you and Steve are inside.

Steve hasn’t had a thought since he pushed you out of his head. He hasn’t locked his mind down like any of the others are slowly learning to do - he’s just not thinking. There are waves of feelings, and instincts, but no concrete thoughts. It makes you feel shitty, but then you wonder if he’s doing it for his own peace of mind or for your benefit. Either way, you should probably tell him to knock it off because one of the perks of being able to read your partner’s mind on a mission is having a one-way link to set up plans without having to say them out loud. You won’t bring it up, though, because your relationship with Steve has finally stopped being enemies forced to share a wall and has become people who can stand to be in a room together sometimes. It’s not much in the scheme of things and still hurts your feelings - because you still have that ridiculous crush on the man, but it’s nice.

The country club is huge. The ceilings are easily thirteen feet high and dotted with grand, hanging chandeliers. The walls have arches, expensive paintings, and large stained-glass windows. It’s more lush and expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life and the spark of jealousy has you gritting your teeth. You hate rich people, have a distinct disdain for the way they hoard money while there are so many people who could use just a fraction of what they have - but yet, you find yourself wishing you lived in the lap of luxury.

With your arm taken in Steve’s, you suppose you do live in the lap of luxury. Being an Avenger doesn’t pay the best, and you’re acutely aware of just how many people on the team are exactly the thing that you find yourself hating. Tony has more generational money than he knows what to do with - even without counting how much money he’s made on his own. Steve has enough backpay to pay off the college debts of the state of Ohio. Bucky was given a settlement when it was revealed that, despite Steve and the other Commandos rallying for the Army to retrieve his body, there was no search made for him which allowed Hydra to do what they did.

You blink, take a deep breath, and push those thoughts from your focus. Steve looks down at you. People are starting to notice him, now, but that’s not a hard thing to do. Out of seventy people in the room, about one-third have their thoughts turned to Captain America and the person on his arm. “Are you okay?” It takes you a second to realize he’s spoken out loud and shifted to block your view of the room. He’s frowning.

You smile as politely as you can, trying to calm him. “Peachy. It’s just a lot. Where would you like to start?”

“The bar?” Steve leads you further into the room and more thoughts turn his way, “We could start with a drink, and then mingle?” You hum and slip your hand down to press just the tips of your fingers against his bare wrist. He stiffens but manages to keep his cool, despite cutting you an unreadable look.

“Easier to communicate,” You have a wisp of a smile as you meet curious eyes, trying to focus on the thoughts that swim between your ears.

-Why’s he here?-

-Who’s with him? Why would an Avenger bring a date to-

-Holy fuck, it’s Captain America-

Can you hear me over everyone else? Steve isn’t looking at you, but his voice cuts through the noise. It’s high and clear, a distinct dichotomy to his speaking voice. Before you answer, your mind wanders to whether or not that’s how he sounded pre-serum. You lean against the bar with him, pretending to be perusing the menu while you tap your finger once against his wrist, sliding a line, and then tapping three more times. He orders matching glasses of wine for both of you and doesn’t respond.

The bartender is looking closer at you than at Steve, and you wonder if you’re as nervous as you seem. His thoughts aren’t untoward, not really, just wondering if you’ll like the dry white that Steve’s ordered. (You don’t, and won’t. Not like you’ll be drinking any - unlike the super-soldier on your arm you’ll get tipsy, your mind will get fogged, and the mission will be compromised.)

It’s not until Steve passes you the glass, smiling at you like he has a secret or wants to tell one, that you focus back on the mission. Good, he thinks, I suppose it will be easier this way.

You take a micro-sip of the wine and try not to scrunch your nose at the taste. “The wine is really good. Thank you for ordering, Captain.” He huffs under his breath, a twinge of annoyance tickling the back of your senses. So he doesn’t like being called Captain, which is interesting. You resolve to keep that in mind as you survey the room, looking for anyone who’s more nervous than anyone else. Thoughts come and go as you shift your focus.

-Yes!-

The thought is so sharp and out of place among the throng of people trying to get up the courage to speak to Steve that you physically flinch, hiding it by pressing your face into the bicep of the man who, in theory, hates you. You take a deep breath and shake your head when Steve opens his mouth to speak. It takes a lot of focus to be able to hone in on someone with just their thoughts, but you manage to do it by taking your skin off of Steve’s and putting his suit sleeve between your hands and his wrist again. The thoughts come loud and clear then, and your eyes trace the room for the head they could be coming from.

Everyone’s distracted by Star-Spangled Asshole over there with his stupid little date, nobody will notice if I sneak off… Fuck, the God damn door’s locked.

You take Steve’s wine and set it down on an unoccupied table next to your own glass, and lead him to the small dance floor that’s shown up as the afternoon progresses. He takes position without a peep. Clearly, he knows you’re on to something or listening to someone. He’s good enough of a dancer to lead you in a way that makes it seem like you’re the clumsy one - his dancing gives you just enough time to catch sight of the only person frowning at the emergency exit.

“You’re a lovely dancer, Captain,” You finally glance up at him, and then let your eyes slide back to the doors, “Where’d you learn?” His answer goes over your head as you use the small talk as an excuse to keep your mind on your newest, and only, lead. You hope that Steve won’t be offended that you’re making small talk but not listening to his answers, but really, what’s another thing about you for him to hate?

If I’m not at that meeting in fifteen, Frank is going to kill me. If I don’t get the pictures of the girls from Frank, Chris will kill me and then I’ll be double dead. How am I supposed to get paid if I’m double dead?

In your surprise that the man is thinking away his whole plan, you accidentally stamp on Steve’s toes. Of course, you’d mentioned it to Steve before - nobody believes in mind readers. But still, not a lot of people think as frantically about what they’re doing as That Guy is. Two names are better than one name, but one name with the last name attached would have been the best. Still, they have to be connected in some way to the country club, and maybe Tony can figure it out.

“Oh!” You smile up at Steve a second after he jerks back from your clumsy feet, “Sorry, I was just thinking about the party last week.” You reach up under the pretense of fiddling with your hearing aid, and click the connect button on the comm. Steve’s eyes catch the motion and he begins the dance again, as if you hadn’t nearly stumbled over yourself and toppled over. Several thoughts turn your way and they’re… Less than flattering. You sigh and soften your smile, until it could almost be called fond. “Did you see how antsy Frank was to get to that meeting? And all Chris wanted to do was look at pictures.”

To anyone else, it was idle small talk, but to Peter, in the car, it was clear that you were giving information. You had all the confidence in the world that he’d be on the phone to Tony faster than you could blink. Hell, he was probably already on the phone with Tony and relaying the information as Steve’s eyebrows rose as the clicking of laptop keys began to softly play from your comm.

Get it together Derek. Oh, shit it’s raining now. Oh, that sucks.

“And Derek,” You continued, laughing a bit under your breath as if he was an old friend, “Such a klutz. Can’t tell a push from a pull door.” Steve spins you and catches sight of the man panicking at the emergency exit. A frown pulls on his lips for a moment, before he’s back to acting the night away with you, looking down at you in a way that anyone else would see as sentimental. But you understand how Steve feels about you, what you can do, and know that he is an incredibly good actor. An unreasonably good actor, since nobody else at the club is looking into his eyes.

There’s a pulse where your hands are connected, skin slipping against skin, and it startles you. Steve’s thoughts come through louder and clearer than ever before - he’s thinking with purpose. He’s thinking so you’ll hear him. He’s thinking at you. Good work. Three names is even better than we were hoping for.

You read a little too much into that, a frown tugging briefly on your face before you remember that you’re being watched. It melts into a smile easily and Steve watches the way it changes with an unreadable expression. It’s nice, dancing with him. Just a little too nice, and it makes the saliva in your mouth sour. It would be one thing if you only had a crush on the man, but he despises you. Or, he did. Maybe now, holding on to you and dancing like he might like you, he only… Dislikes you. Tolerates you. Realizes that you’re just a person saddled with an impossible ability and you’re drowning under the weight of it.

You wonder if he ever looks at you and sees himself.

The thought dies as he tracks Derek over your shoulder, putting a little fond smile on his face - although you know its fake - and ducking down to breathe the man’s movements into your comm. It’s closer, intimate, and you press your lips into a thin line to repress your shudder at the way Steve presses close to you. “I should get back home,” You finally say, “My babysitter said that she has an exam tomorrow. It’s no fair to her for me to overstay my welcome.” It won’t make sense and will definitely look untoward, because the two of you have only been in the club for forty-five minutes. If that. But you can’t handle being so close to Steve, even if he’s done whatever he’s learned he can do with his thoughts and shut you out of them despite your hands in his.

Steve catches both of your hands in his, smiling down at you. “Allow me to walk you out.” And your brain half short circuits because for a brief moment he lets you in. Your mind lights up with his thoughts and they’re scrambled, frantic, anxious. Your name is there, your face, your lips, your favorite color, the scent you put on specifically to blend in with the rich and famous. Steve’s mind is awash with you and it’s so much, too much, that it makes you dizzy. He seems to catch on the moment you turn to look at him, swaying on your feet with question in your eyes. His hands leave yours and find a home deep in the pockets of his slacks. You watch ruefully as his face hardens, imperceptible to anyone around the two of you.

“Of course,” You finally say, voice slow and quiet. You hate watching people close off from you once they realize their private thoughts aren’t private. It sits heavy in the back of your mind, though, that he was thinking of you. Not the mission, not your powers, not how awfully close he had to be to someone he seemed to hate. Just thinking of you in a way that nobody else had, not in a long time. Not if they knew what you can do. Nobody has ever loved you before - nobody can love you - and you’re not about to start convincing yourself that Steve will be the first.

Abruptly, as if the two of you hadn’t spent the better part of three minutes staring at each other and saying nothing, you turn toward the door. He follows you outside where it’s raining while you ask Peter to bring the car around.

“I’ll be right there,” The teenager confirms, “Also, that Derek guy is getting into a Jeep Wrangler and leaving. Should we tail him?” You jump when a heavy hand curls around your elbow, but you tell yourself it’s because Tony’s voice is crackling to life on the comm and not because Steve is pressing close again.

“I have agents already prepped for that. Just get Thing One and Thing Two out of there before someone realizes we’re onto them.” Peter hums and you hear the car kick to life in the background.

Steve, you realize, doesn’t have a comm in. You turn to relay what Tony said to you just to find Steve already nodding along as if he’d heard. He might have, you think. He can hear your heartbeat through the plaster and drywall back at the compound. Still, he’s looking at you as if he’s waiting for you to relay it, and when you don’t speak - he frowns.

“About what you heard,” He clears his throat and looks away. You’re used to that, really. Tony used to do it after he realized you picked up everything and Sam still does it sometimes. When people figure out that you’re a walking privacy violation they get embarrassed and when that happens they can’t even look at you.

Another thing that your powers have taken away from you.

With a wry smile, one that Steve doesn’t see because his eyes are closed and he’s flushing, you console him. “It’s fine. I understand this is the last thing you want to be doing.” You hesitate on his name and choke his title back, trying to keep the peace between the both of you. His eyes flash to yours, but only for a second, “I told you the first day that we met that if I could change this part of myself, I would. Good work I’ve done be damned.” The smile on your face then is as sad as it is sweet, and Steve looks lost. “It’s not fun to be alienated in a way that nobody else can understand.”

God, and if you were to look back on it, you never would have said that. But you do, and it’s out in the world and in Steve’s head - which is still blessedly silent. Maybe that’s why you miss Derek’s thoughts growing louder and louder, getting closer to where you’re standing faster than Peter’s are; you’re too focused on Steve and his thoughts and how the moment today stands in dichotomy to the moment on the interrogation floor.

Maybe you’re just too focused on him in general.

Derek’s thoughts hit you like a freight train just a second before you hear the squall of struggling tires on the pavement. Knew they were following me, knew it, knew it! You watch from Derek’s eyes as he guns it straight for where you’re standing with Steve - and then you’re back in your own body and finally reacting. You turn to Steve and grab his lapels, shoving him out from underneath the fancy awning. He stumbles out into the rain before his feet get tangled against each other and he tumbles to the ground, shouting your name.

Going for the date, take the Captain down by hurting the person he’s with. He’ll be so guilty, won’t be able to think, won’t be able to get me.

You surge backward into the brick wall at the last moment, Derek’s thoughts filling with rage once he realizes that he’s missed you. Fuck! Fuck, no! Frank is going to kill me. Well, maybe not if I kill both of them. The car takes a dangerous u-turn and revs as Derek stares you down, sweating behind the wheel. “Peter!” You call into your comm, “What’s the holdup?” Steve springs to his feet, brow furrowed and battle ready.

“I’m almost there!” Peter’s voice cracks and you hear the humming of the engine in the background as he presses his pedal to the metal.

“You should hurry!” You dart into the rain when Derek aims the Jeep Wrangler toward you again. Crashing into Steve’s side you urge him away, the both of you already soaked to the bone. “You have to get out of here. He’s aiming for me because he knows you’ll get off of his tail to help if I’m hurt.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Steve’s thoughts are loud, angry, and you wonder what it will be like to be on a combat mission with him. “Move!” His arms wrap around your body and he swings the both of you into the bushes on the other side of the driveway, stumbling to his feet and tugging you out of the other side of the foliage.

If he thinks I won’t run over those bushes, he’s wrong. I’m going to make that meeting, and I’ll make it without an Avenger on my fucking tail!

“You’re playing into his hand!” You have to yell over the rain and the screaming of Derek’s tires, “Get back to the car with Peter, I can handle myself.” Steve’s jaw sets and he takes a glance behind you, body tensed to move again but you’re also watching the world from Derek’s eyes and the way that he’s definitely going to hit the tree that stands among the bushes of the road verge. You stand your ground when Steve surges toward you to take you off of your feet once more, holding him in place as you shrink into him and close your eyes.

“We have to move - !” His voice raises to a shout and breaks on the last word but you grit your teeth and hold him still. If Steve really wants to move, he will. You know he can overpower you and you hope that he doesn’t. Derek is half-blind with fear and rage and he’s aiming directly for you, not paying attention to anything in the way. Your hands clench in the back of Steve’s jacket as you hold him to you, trying to convey that he’s safe as long as he stays where he’s at.

The crash from the front corner of the Wrangler hitting the large and sturdy tree makes your ears ring. You feel more than hear Steve gasping, his arms tightening around you as he takes a step back in shock. The world spins around you when you close your eyes and look through Derek’s eyes again, and his thoughts are as scrambled as the Jeep Wrangler is. It crashes in an arc around where you stand with Steve in the rain, not even coming close to hitting you. Your knees buckle when parts of the bumper come off, striking the back of your calves and Steve keeps you upright even as the pain streaks through you and your knees give out.

Peter is there half a second later, and then a second after that Tony is in your comm, telling you to scram because the agents are only a minute out. Steve shoves you back toward the road verge and you take the path that was cleared out by the Jeep. Peter is there in the sleek car, face pale and shocked behind the wheel. Steve darts around you to throw open the passenger door, thoughts intent on throwing your body in and hoping he can make it into the back seat before Derek gets his wits about him. You grit your teeth and throw your body against his, snagging the pistol you’d felt in his waistband out as he stumbles again.

“What the fuck?” He shouts.

Derek is getting out of the ruined car, hysterical and terrified. His thoughts spin around you as you put your body in front of Steve’s - between his body and the gun that Derek is wielding. It’s like that motherfucker is my head, have to stop that. Have to get to the meeting, have to get the photos, have to get the girls It’ll be my head! Mine! If I don’t get this done, can’t do that. Can’t have that. You aim Steve’s gun for Derek’s center mass, but you don’t shoot. Not yet. His thoughts haven’t turned and you haven’t felt that jolt that comes when someone prepares to shoot in the back of his mind. Steve is in your head, too, wondering why you’re not shooting and why you’re in front of him, and how to regain control of the situation so that he can suffocate the fear building in the front of his consciousness. He thinks about bodily picking you up but Peter’s frantic voice is distracting him.

You hold your ground, gritting your teeth so that you don’t peel Derek like an overripe pear. His eyes are focused on the gun you’re wielding and the distinct lack of trigger discipline. He’s wondering if you’re the better shot and you wink at him.

Rogers isn’t the one in my head.

The realization puts him on the backfoot. “You can’t beat me!” You call into the storm, hoping he’ll hear, “I’ll know you’re going to shoot before you will!” Derek’s gun begins to shake and Steve’s breath halts in his chest. “Do you want to take that chance, Derek? Want to see who has the faster trigger finger?” An unmarked car pulls fast into the parking lot and sirens begin to wail in the distance. The commotion finally caught the attention of the club and someone inside must have called an emergency number. The hesitation is written all over Derek’s face, especially when he glances over his shoulders to see agents in Kevlar rapidly approaching. “Surrender yourself.”

Steve’s hands tighten on your shoulders, but after a moment Derek puts the gun down.

The moment you’re out of medical, you’ve shed your dress clothes and changed into something comfortable. There’s no need for a debrief because it was supposed to be just a recon mission and Derek had cracked like an egg the second he was put into the backseat of Peter’s car with you - so you’re free for the night.

It takes you just a second to make sure Steve is in the gym before you escape with your phone and headphones - both upgraded as an apology from Tony - to the Garden. True to your personal promise, you hadn’t been back since the day you’d been trapped in the bushes by Steve being there. But you need to go back - you need silence. You need just a few moments of fucking freedom from thoughts in your head that aren’t yours, and you need to be able to get it without explaining to someone why you need them to leave the weird, abandoned garden so that you can get it.

You leave your music loud enough to numb your mind through the compound, smiling at people who wave at you or say something you’re in no mood to figure out. When you clear the back doors you’re free, cutting your music and taking in the soft sounds of nature. The garden isn’t empty when you arrive, and it makes you stop short when you find Natasha perched casually on the fountain. There’s stress in your back seeing her there, but you can’t read her mind so it’s fine. It has to be fine.

She hears you coming and turns to you with a small smile on her face. She sighs your name, head tilting to the side. “So you’ve finally decided to come back.” It makes your steps falter, but you still wade through the overgrowth to sit next to her, leaning your back against the grand statue in the middle of the fountain that nobody takes care of.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you knew about the Garden, and yet I am.”

“Who do you think told Steve about it?” You sigh, unsurprised that out of everyone Natasha would have picked up on the fact that you don’t come here for his sake. “It’s nice that you’ve decided to come back.”

“Steve is in the gym.”

Natasha leans into your side, one hand gripping yours tenderly - in a way that only a few lucky people are allowed to see her. “How is he doing, by the way? Keeping you out of his head?”

“What do you mean?”

She cuts you a look that has you flushing, “Please. Either he’s really struggling or you’re playing coy. He’s been practicing with Wanda since you moved into his wing.” That makes you frown because, God, that just makes you feel worse. Your entire life is lived around making people comfortable with what you can do and you’re searching for a solution to the problem when Natasha shakes you lightly. “He’s doing it for you, not for himself.”

“Sure,” You snort, “It’s for my comfort.”

“Seeing you after Rick did a number on him.” She hums, leaning her head on your shoulder. You sag into the human contact and the blessed blankness of Natasha’s mind. “He was worried. It finally got his head out of his ass about how embarrassed he was.” There’s a lilt to her voice that you don’t really understand.

“Nothing new for someone who spends an extended period of time around me,” You mumble, feeling yourself get sleepy against her body heat, “People who can do what I do don’t get friends, or days off, or relationships. Doesn’t matter what I think of what he thinks of me because those are personal thoughts.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha’s hand comes up to pet the side of your face, making you sigh. It’s so nice to be touched by another human without getting their thoughts injected into your mind, “What I mean is that, for a while, Steve was taking our reports to Data instead of emailing them. He was coming back flushed, and talking about how there was someone there who kept their head down and worked hard, never looked his way, and didn’t react to the fact that Captain America was handing them a report. Sometimes he’d come out of the elevator like that, too.”

“Hm?” You’re not following her. At least, you don’t want to be.

“I’ve known him for a long time. When you walked into Interrogation he was caught off guard to see you there. Tony had told us he was bringing in his Special Weapon. Never expected you to show up.”

“I wish he’d stop calling me that.” You grumble. Natasha pinches you and you squirm away.

“Let me finish,” She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s mirth behind her eyes. You sigh and curl back into her, wondering if this is better than the hour you were planning on spending alone or not. “When Steve realized you could read minds, I’m sure every thought he’d had around you came to the front. Poor guy looked like he was going to shit himself.”

“They didn’t, at least not how you’re insinuating.” You sighed, remembering what he’d actually thought and then biting the bullet to tell Natasha even though they were his private thoughts, “He thought I was dangerous. Came up with some really creative ways to kill me, though.” She laughs, jostling you. “Seriously, he should teach some of those as self defense.”

“The thoughts came later, then. Call his reaction an instinct, but he’s been beating himself up for it since. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, so keep your mouth shut. He came to me, terrified that you’d heard every single thought he’d had about that person.”

“I would never tell them,” You frown, shrugging your shoulders, “I may be a confidentiality risk on wheels, but I’m not a jerk.” She sighs like you’ve mortally offended her and you feel her head shake against yours. “The things in their heads stay in mine - most of the time. I thought I’d managed to convince you all of that already.”

“I have to spell it out for the both of you, huh? The emotional labor of a best friend never ceases.” Her hand drops from yours and she pats your thigh before extracting herself and stretching in front of you. “He wasn’t worried about you hearing those thoughts because he thought you’d tell - Steve is worried about you hearing those thoughts because it would be him telling.”

“I don’t understand.” You say, hoping to backpedal the conversation to something other than the convoluted idea that Steve Rogers could feel the same warmth in his chest looking at you that you feel when you look at him.

Natasha cuts you a look that says you definitely understand me you stubborn little motherfucker; then, she smiles over her shoulder at you and then she’s gone, disappearing around the corner before you can process what she’s said without saying. That’s one thing that you’re still not used to about her: the fact that you can’t read her mind means that you have to try and parse her meaning from her words and body language like you’re… Not you. It makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable but also incredibly normal. A true, blue catch-22. Your stomach swirls with unease until you curl up on your side in the fountain, the concrete hiding you from view and making you focus on the unobstructed sky overhead.

Absentmindedly you hum a Mazzy Star song, something that you like to listen to when you’re not using music to numb your extra sense so that you can live like a regular person. You wonder if anyone has shown Steve and Bucky things like Mazzy Star, or if people are still trying to shill them what they think the two men out of time will like instead of expanding their world view. Maybe they don’t want to remember the before.

You don’t want to remember the before.

Before Tony, before the Avengers, before you figured out that you can’t be peeling people apart at the seams just for shits and giggles. Before you found yourself tipping face first into a personality and memories that weren’t yours - things you still see in your nightmares.

Before you almost died.

You were a different person back in the before. More open, easier to talk to, trying to make and keep friends. You tried to have things for yourself but in the moment you opened up the man who was trying to kill you, say the things that he’d seen and done and said and thought, the moment your brain started whirring like an overheating laptop and then went dark to protect itself… You knew when you woke up eight months later your life would be nothing but lonely, watching from the outside like the only sentient person in a movie. You sacrifice, you push people together if their thoughts match and there’s a mutual interest, you have four different degrees just for fun because you don’t need to study.

When you hear someone approaching the garden you get up and dust yourself off, ready to give them the space that they need.

It’s almost surprising to see Steve wading through the unkempt foliage, but it’s not. The surprising part is that he doesn’t seem angry to see you. He almost seems relieved that you’re there.

You step out of the fountain, white-knuckling your phone. “Sorry,” You smile wryly, “Didn’t know you were comin’ out here today. I’ll, uh, head out.” The only way out is past him and you try to hustle before he says something that you’re not expecting - he’s doing whatever Wanda taught him to keep you out of his head and you’re happy. Really, you are. It just puts you on the backfoot and sends anxiety twisting around your spine like a ribbon.

Steve reaches out and grabs your elbow, still careful not to touch your skin with his. “Do you do this a lot?”

While you’re trying to process what he’s asking, you blink slowly at him and his painfully earnest, blue eyes. Steve almost looks like he’s in pain, and his voice sounded like he was struggling not to let it break over his words. “Uh,” You finally manage, voice nearly lost to the light wind and the shake that’s permeating your whole body, “Not lately, no. Just had some rough stuff, y’know, floating around in my head. Figured some fresh air would do me good.”

“No,” He shakes his head and then takes another step toward you. Instinctually you match his step forward with a step backward, his voice somewhere in the back of your head calling you a monster. Nat’s voice is there, too, telling you something you’re unwilling to believe but her voice is so much quester than Steve’s. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, then,” You clear your throat and have to look away from his face because it’s almost unbearable. You’re used to people looking at you a certain way - even Tony and Wanda look at you in That Way sometimes - but the way that Steve is looking at you… He’s bearing his soul more than any moment in time when you’ve been in his head. It’s unsettling in a new way, making heat and goose flesh crawl up your back and crest over your neck. “Look, I’ll head back to my room so you can enjoy the Garden.”

Steve takes another step toward you but you’re so shocked that he’s so close, looming over you. It reminds you of the way that he danced with you, the way that he looked at you even though he was acting.

You blink slowly, meeting his eyes, and remember the way that he thought about you in that moment before you both left the country club. Your throat tightens when you start to piece everything together and something inside of you, a big something that’s been there since you woke up from your eight month coma, tells you that it’s not right. Can’t be true. Steve sighs and his eyes flutter shut. “Do you…” He chokes on his words, like he’s not sure what he wants to ask you, “Do you sacrifice a lot for other people?”

“Don’t we all?” Your answer is knee-jerk because you do not want to go there. Not with anyone, but most certainly not with Steve.

He doesn’t open his eyes but his fingers tighten on your arm, his other hand moving to ghost over your shoulder. It’s almost unnerving to see Steve so unsure of himself. “That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out small and strangled. Instinctually you reach up and clasp his bicep, dipping your head to try and see his face as his head turns toward the ground. It doesn’t take more than a second to convince yourself that you’re imagining the flush that’s crawling up his cheeks, making the soft freckles stand out against the ruddiness of whatever he’s feeling.

“Steve…” You’re lost for words and he sighs through his nose. It’s startling when his eyes snap open and he pulls you toward him. Your arms are stuck out at awkward angles in the hug, but you let him hold you close because… Well, again, you have a crush on the Good Captain - but also because you can feel him shaking.

“How much do you sacrifice for other people? How much do you give up for them that they don’t even know - that they don’t understand?” You struggle to hear him over your own blood rushing in your ears because you can feel his voice rumbling from his chest to yours. He’s clutching you like you’re his lifeline, like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing that can keep him above water. Maybe it’s what he’s asking or maybe it’s how he’s so warm in the dying light of the day, but you finally secure your arms around his waist.

“It’s not a sacrifice,” You finally whisper into the front of his shoulder, where you’ve planted your face so that he can’t pull his head back and see how you’re on the edge of breaking, “It’s just what I do.”

Steve shudders. “I didn’t know - I’m so sorry.” If you didn’t know better - and you don’t, because he’s doing a beautiful job of keeping you out of his head despite how clearly emotional he is and how the two of you are pressed together from head to toe. “The things I’ve said, I’ve thought…” His voice breaks.

“You’re not your thoughts, Steve,” You try to reassure, “I understand that.”

“I called you a monster,” His head shakes once and then it drops against your shoulder, “I called you a monster because I’m a coward and I was afraid. Afraid that you’d heard, that you knew about how I felt. How I feel.”

“Steve, it’s fine.” It’s really not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s not fine.” It seems he knows that.

Eyes fluttering shut against your own will, you inhale his cologne. He must have showered after the gym and the familiar scene of At The Barber’s makes you relax against him. “People have said worse. What,” You stutter, unsure you want to know the answer to what you’re going to ask, “What brought this on? You don’t have to feel guilty for my sake.”

Steve pulls back and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face - he doesn’t stop holding you though. You’ll take it. You’ll take it with you into lonely nights and being alone and your cold bed. In those moments you’ll remember how he feels against you and how his eyes feel on you and what it feels like to dance with him. “Nat told me that you stopped coming out here because of me.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Did you?” He tries to catch your eyes but you won’t meet them. Can’t see the pity that’s in them - or the guilt that’s there. He says your name, mangled by the emotion in his throat, “Please, please look at me.”

“Yes,” You admit when he manages to catch your eyes, “I did. I can go anywhere to think without being spied on. You can’t.”

Steve says your name again and presses his face even closer to yours. “I’m so sorry. For everything - for calling you a monster and thinking those horrible things and taking this away from you. I’m sorry you’ve sacrificed anything for me.” The honesty in his voice takes your breath away.

“I’d sacrifice everything for you, Steve.”

He blinks, shocked, but you’ve never been more sure of anything. Even though the beginning of your relationship with him was rocky, the months spent living and working alongside of him has solidified that not only do you look up to him and what he’s sacrificed, but your crush has a foundation that’s unshakable. Steve flounders for a second, searching your eyes but then he surges forward.

The kiss is something that you’ve imagined in the place between wake and sleep - but the real thing is so much better. Steve kisses like he’s apologizing and sacrificing and begging at the same time. His hands cup your face when you sigh, hands clutching in the back of his t-shirt to draw his body closer to yours. You can feel your body heating up underneath the thrumming of shock, feel yourself reacting to the way Steve whimpers against your mouth and follows your lips when you gasp for air. God, he kisses like he’s making up for lost time and like he’s desperate to tell you something that he can’t express with his words.

Steve, in short, kisses like a God.

You’re still struggling to catch your breath when he presses another chaste kiss against your lips - and then against your cheekbone and next to your eyes and then another on your forehead. “Steve…”

“I’m yours,” He confesses in a soft voice with his mouth pressed against your temple, “I realized that while we were dancing today. Holding you like that, seeing how incredible you are and how much I must have hurt you… I’m yours, if you’ll forgive me. Always have been, I think.” You shake against him, unsure and unstable.

“Steve…”

“You can say no,” He whispers into your skin, “You can say no and nothing will happen. I’ll keep my distance, I’ll be respectful.”

“I’ve never…” This time you pull back to look at him and the way his eyes are swimming makes you dizzy - in a good way. “Nobody ever wants me after they have me. It’s - it’s okay, but you can’t… It’s not going to be like you think. It never… I never work out. You have to know that. I can’t be friends with anyone who can’t block me out… How can you want…” How can you want me?

Steve’s eyebrows pull together and he shakes his head slightly. “We’ve been practicing, me and Wanda. I can keep you out and, and… I don’t care.” He says firmly. “I don’t care if you can see into my thoughts. I… I did, I cared a lot. I have to admit that, but that’s because - I’ve thought a lot about you before. I used to go to Data just to be able to see you,” His cheeks flush with color again but his eyes never leave yours, “I was tryin’ to get the courage to ask you out properly when you walked into that interrogation room and…” Steve sighs, eyes falling shut only briefly before they open to find yours again. His eyebrows are still pulled tight, wrinkling his forehead and making him look contrite. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’, saying those things. Thinking them.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide your thoughts from your partners,” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him away while you’re still wrapped in his arms, but he’s not budging.

“I know,” He breathes, “But I don’t care. I don’t care because it’s you. You’re good and you’re self-sacrificing and you’re… God, I don’t even know how to describe you.” Steve kisses you again, stealing your breath, “If you’ll have me, I’m yours. I swear it.”

You take a few shallow breaths, trying to digest your thoughts while he gazes at you like he did while you were dancing. “Steve…” He closes his eyes like he’s expecting a fatal blow and trying to come to terms with it but you can’t do that to him - won’t do that to him. “If you’ll… If you’ll have me I’m yours,” You parrot his words back to him, “If you can stand to be with me when I can do what I can do, you have me. You’ve had me, Steve. You have.”

He kisses you again and you don’t even flinch when the first of his tears drop against your cheeks.

[heyitsme1040]

Comfortember 2023 Introduction

Hi! So while I didn't partake in this year's kinktober (I wanted to but wasn't sure how my smut writing skills were yet) I am going to participate in Comfortember 2023! The current plan is to participate in every day of November's comfort fic prompts. The current plan is also to write each day's prompt and not use one of the alternate prompts. I also have a miniature goal outside of the prompts, which is to have each fic be at least 1,000 words. If you want to partake in Comfortember then you can find the full prompt list here courtesy of @comfortember . Click here to find my masterlist of this challenge. And now without further delay, here's the list of what I'm writing and the pairing.

Safe - Spider-Man x Reader

Sweater Weather - Steve Rogers x Reader

Leaves Changing - Steddie

Warmth - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Treehouse - Eddie Munson x Reader

Notes - Steddie

Sick/Illness - Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Grief/Mourning - Peter Parker x Reader

Aftermath - Spencer Reid x Reader

Sadness - Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Comfort Show/Movie - Peter Parker x Reader

Dreams - Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Baking - Spencer Reid x Reader

Late Night Phone Calls - Peter Parker x Reader

Plushies - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Coffee/Tea Break - Spencer Reid x Reader

Heirloom - Steve Rogers x Reader

Cuddles - Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Loved Ones - Dean Winchester x Reader

Shopping - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Relapse - Dean Winchester x Reader

Cry - Steve Harrington x Reader

Anxiety - Peter Parker x Reader

Blankets - Dean Winchester x Reader

Rain - Sam Winchester x Reader

Friends - Peter Parker x Reader

Soup - Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Flashbacks - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sleepover - Eddie Munson x Reader

The New Normal - Steddie

Now, I do have an idea to use the alternate prompts. I'm thinking since there are five of them, I'll post twice on a random day each week of November. While I don't have an idea for pairings yet, the prompts are:

Books

Baths

Travel

Candles

Colors

I'll be posting daily, so if you want to see these fics as they come out, maybe give me a follow?

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 15

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You bounced off the bed when Friday informed you that Steve and Bucky were back and just in debriefing. 

You toyed with the idea of sneaking down and going to see them and you finally plucked up the courage. Wearing a baseball cap and glasses and tucking your hair in you made your way down to them, hoping no one would recognise you.

“What’s all this?” you asked Maria,  hiding behind her.

“What are you doing down here, your going to be seen?” She hissed.

“I’m in disguise,” you smirked.

“You three are disgustingly cute” she whispered “New interns get to come debriefing” She shrugged “It’s a bit boring and a bit pathetic when you see how some of them get on.”

You stood at the back and looked proudly at the two men. You saw a woman approach with a large stack of files. She softly touched Steve’s arm.

“I need you to sign these off Captain,” she smiled widely at him, you weren’t too worried but when he smiled up at her,  he winked at her you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

A few girls in front of you giggled “What wouldn’t I give to get a bit of that,”  you listened to the girls on what they would do them or what they would let the boys do to them in return.

“I will never know how they are still single” someone whispered.

And that's when it dawned on you, were you stopping the two men from having a proper relationship, one where they could walk hand in hand down the street or go on dates.

An older lady clicked at them ordering to get the men whatever refreshments they needed.

When the girls came back with water you watched as they approached Steve and Bucky with big grins on their faces.

“I'm Clare,” one of the girls said to Steve “I put my number on the label.”

“Thank you sweet heart” Steve smiled at her.

Then he looked up and caught Maria’s eye, He looked at her confused when he saw the horrified look on her face. Then he caught the slightest glimpse of you behind her and his smile dropped. Disguise or not he would always recognise you. You walked out of the room and made your way to the bedroom locking the door behind you.

A while later, you heard a knock at the door.

“Hey Y/N it’s Steve and Bucky, are you okay?” They shouted through your bedroom door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired. I’ll talk to you both in the morning” you replied trying not to sound hurt.

“Y/N please we just want to make sure you’re okay. Can you let us in?” they begged.

“Steven, James I’m fine I’m just going to head to bed, I’m good” hoping you could convince them to leave. Steven, why did you call him that, was it because you were actually annoyed with him?

“Y/N” Steve sounded serious “You can open the door now yourself or I will get Friday to open it automatically.”

“You can do that?” You questioned quietly.

“If I think you’re in danger I can” he stated.

You threw the door open,

“You know Rogers this can be seen as manipulation, something I’m very, VERY experienced in” You folded your arms looking angry.

Steve looked at you and instantly felt guilty.

“That wasn’t my intention Y/N, genuinely I just wanted to make sure you were okay and we wanted to explain what you saw,” he said, sounding sad he had hurt you. It really wasn’t what he had intended.

They both entered your room. Bucky took a seat at the edge of your bed behind you and Steve stood in front of you. Your arms still crossed and still looking hurt and angry you asked “Well, I’m waiting, What did I see?”

“None of those girls mean anything to us you have to believe us, to be honest, I wish we could say something but on days like this, we are told to act nice,” he did actually sound remorseful in fact he wouldn’t even look at you.

he continued “We are with you and we wouldn’t want it any other way, you are amazing, beautiful, sweet, and when you’re not on guard you are hilarious.”

“Steve stop” dropping your arms to your side and your voice quivering “It’s just the serum. You think you’re attracted to me but you’re not, I don’t know maybe it gives off some kind of pheromones. But I promise, you don’t love me” tears started to stream down your face and you felt your breath becoming unsteady. “I’m not any of those things you say I am.”

“Y/N you are, why would you say that?” He questioned.

Memories flooded your vision of the girls and then to your time with Walker. You were so lost in thought you hadn’t realised on the outside, your breath was labored and tears streamed down your face.

Bucky had bounced off the bed wrapping his arms around you he guided you to the floor and sat you between his legs.

Steve grabbed your face making you look at him.

“Breath sweetheart, I need you to breath for me” he panicked. When he realised you weren’t able to he tried a different tactic.

“Okay, sweetheart I need you to answer me. Tell me five things you can see in this room”

You didn’t answer in fact you seemed to look right through him

“Five things Y/N, don’t make me ask again,” he said more sternly hoping to get through to you. Still no answer. That's when Steve began to panic.

“Y/L/N, I am your captain and you will follow my orders. I need five things you can see right now.” He commanded. It seemed to work as you came out of your trance.

“Five things? " you repeated disoriented.

“Five things you can see,  NOW” he confirmed

Your eyes scanned the room as you tried to regain your composure but still, your brain wouldn’t work and you panicked more. Landing back on Steve you couldn’t help but notice the concern in his eyes. His amazingly blue eyes. How come you’ve never noticed those eyes before. “You” you whispered softly

“Tell me again sweetheart I didn’t hear you,” he said but you thought you’d seen a hint of a smirk there. (cheeky fecker) you thought.

“You I see you,” you said trying to sound loud but failing miserably.

“Good girl, what else,” Steve asked.

You scanned the room again it took a while but you managed to rhyme off,

“My lamp, the carpet, the door, and the television.”

“Very good, four things you can touch” he continued.

You tried to concentrate on what your hands could touch and then realising your hands were clinging on to Buck or more like borrowing into his skin you replied.

“Bucky”

Taking your hands off his legs worried you had hurt him, you touched your knees. “Me” Placing your hands on Steve’s legs you confirmed “you” and then placing your hands at your sides you touched the floor and stated “carpet”.

“You trying to insinuate something here doll,” Bucky said in your ear hoping to lighten the mood. You smiled a little. Then you heard Steve say “I’m not done, don’t listen to the Sargent Y/L/N,  I’m in charge eyes on me, Three things you can hear?”

“Punk” was all you could hear from Bucky.

You closed your eyes trying to hear the sounds

“Me breathing, the clock ticking, the drip of water in the ensuite” You weren’t sure if Steve would allow that due to your enhanced hearing. But he replied “Good girl, now two things you can smell.”

“My shampoo, my incense” you sounded more confident.

" Okay and one thing you can taste?” That was his final question.

When you realised you couldn’t taste anything panic started to build up in you again, you then lost focus, why couldn’t you think of anything, why? Then you felt lips on yours, your eyes shot open and you realised it was Steve. Then you felt his tongue gliding along yours. When he stopped he asked again “One thing you can taste”

You brought your fingers to your lips you whispered “Steve, I taste Steve.”

After a few minutes of sitting on the floor Bucky breathed behind you. “Right princess let’s get you off the floor as my ass has fallen asleep."

You laughed and as you went to stand you found yourself being lifted by Steve.

“You know I am very capable of walking” you argued.

“I know I just need to make sure you get to the bed okay" he smirked.

“My hero.” you rolled your eyes jokingly

“Well, I do still have my suit on” he smiled widely at you causing you to blush.

He sat you gently on the bed and sat beside you, you felt Bucky sit on the other side. A sudden wave of embarrassment flooded through you and tears ran down your face. You placed both hands on your face and groaned " I’m pathetic I’m so sorry, I’m just not used to compliments, Walker always said compliments make us believe we are above people. And I should always try and remain humble which is why he never gave me any, so I never got above my station, so to speak " you bowed your head.

Bucky leaned over and took your chin in his hand turning your face so you were looking at him. “Fuck him, he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart.” And he gently kissed your lips.

“But this too James” you pulled back pointing at both of them “This is scary, I mean you both want me, I’ve never done anything like this, I wouldn’t even know where to begin or how it would work, and if your looking for a one stand I’m not that type of girl.”

“We can take it one day at a time sweetheart or we don’t have to do anything we have told you that and we mean it” he comforted.

“I would like to try," you whispered after awhile wringing your hands.

Bucky kissed your shoulder saying "You’re in charge sweetheart anything you want or don’t want, it’s all up to you” he continued to kiss your shoulder up to your neck and just below your ear you couldn’t help but sigh. Steve smiled and grabbing your hand kissed up your arm until he reached your other shoulder, he gently took your face and kissed your lips softly.

“This feels so weird” you giggled.

“You know doll laughing while we are trying to make you feel good, doesn’t do our ego any favors” Bucky smirked.

“Oh, you want your ego boosted?” You smiled back.

“Wouldn’t hurt” Steve replied smiling.

Fuck it you thought to yourself, why not enjoy this, when was the last time you actually had some fun or had sex. You turned towards Bucky and straddled his legs.

“How’s this Sargent?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s a start, but Sargent?” he quirked his eyebrow back at you and shrugged his shoulders jokingly. You couldn’t help but laugh. You also couldn’t help but admire how extremely handsome he was. Did you ever think John was handsome? Did you ever even look at John?

" Well you know S.A.R.G.E.N.T” you enunciated the Sargent slowly. “The captain was very clear in his orders on what I should be calling you and of course I should respect the suit,” You smirked trying to get a rouse out of him, which you did especially when you stated, “While it’s on.”

Bucky grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you forward both your lips were smashed together and you groaned into the kiss. Bucky pulled apart from you and started to undress. You were hypnotised by the man’s body and you definitely spent a bit too long looking.

“See something you like or would you prefer I keep it in?” Bucky asked sensing you getting into your own head. “I can still remember those looks the other day at breakfast.”

“I see a lot of something I like” you replied before grabbing his face and kissing him. The kiss then became greedy, you couldn’t get enough of him. When you finally parted you tried to steady your breathing. Bucky’s eyes were now fully black. But you felt your face being turned and then Steve kissed you with just as much passion.

With Bucky’s hands on your hips and one of Steve’s hands on your jaw and one on your lower back your body felt on fire.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked looking at you.

“Yes very much so” you smiled.

“Good,” said Bucky “cause I want to see more of you” he pulled at your t-shirt. As you went to lift it over your head Steve grabbed it from your hands.

“Let me” he smiled looking at you for confirmation. You nodded. But as soon as your top came off your natural instinct was to cover up your body.

Bucky took your arms and slowly unwrapped them from around your body. “Huh huh doll,  no hiding from us”

When he managed to peel your arms from your body he kissed the back of both hands and looking you up and down all he stated was “perfection” Your cheeks went red and you lowered your head.

“Just one more thing baby girl, need to get rid of, is that okay?” Steve asked from behind you where he had shifted places and was straddling Bucky’s legs so his chest was right up against your back.

You panicked and thought to yourself they will see me and hate me. But your eyes landed on Bucky and you only say lust and longing.

Before you had a chance to change your mind,  a moment of courage had you nodding your head in agreement. Steve unclasped the back of your bra, his hands then coming to the straps he kissed your neck and slowly moved both straps down your arms. When your bra was disregarded Steve placed his hands on your hips. Looking at Bucky over your shoulder he asked " Well Buck how good does our girl look?”

And all Bucky could reply was “like a goddess,”

Steve’s arms roamed up your sides and came to the front where he cupped your breasts and started massaging them.

“Fuck Steve” Bucky groaned “Keep doing that I can feel her grind against me.” You became still,  embarrassed of your behavior until Steve started pulling at your nipple rolling it between his finger and thumb. He then latched on to your neck making you move again.

“Fuck” you and Bucky both groaning. Bucky grabbed your hips and moved you against his very hard member.

You moaned out loud,  feeling it against your core and feeling Steve’s hand and mouth on you. You were a complete mess and loved every minute.

As Steve was assaulting your top half and as you were grinding against Bucky,  you didn’t realise one of Bucky’s hands had left your hip and made its way to your front until you felt him rubbing you over your trousers. “Fuck " you groaned out leaning back into Steve’s chest.

“It’s okay baby we got you we are going to make you feel so good” Steve whispered.

“I feel good Steve, I really do” you moaned.

“This is nothing doll” Bucky increased his speed “We aren’t even close to making you feel good, but we do need to get these trousers off” and with that, you were flipped onto your back with two very large soldiers staring down at you. Fuck you could have came then just at the sight.

Steve tapped your hip indicating for you to lift them and when you did he took off your trousers and underwear. Now laying completely naked under the two men you began to feel self-conscious again.

“So why am I naked and you two get to be dressed?" you squeaked.

“Want to see us doll I thought you liked the suits?” Bucky asked smirking.

“I'm never living this down, ” you groaned smiling

“Well if you look this good in clothes of course I want to see how good you look in no clothes.” catching yourself by surprise at your courage.

Both men laughed and Steve looked at Bucky “You heard the lady.”

As they both stood from the bed and began to undress you couldn’t help but stare. These men had bodies of gods.

“Fuck me” you exclaimed seeing them in all other glory.

“Oh we plan to princess, " Bucky said leaning over you and kissing you hard. As you made out with Bucky you gasped as you felt lips on the inside of your thighs making their way towards your clit. When Steve’s mouth finally landed on you you bucked up and moaned loud “oh god”

“Steve making you feel good princess " Bucky asked

“Please " you moaned

“Please what doll what do you nee? " Bucky rubbed your cheek.

“Let me make you feel good James. Please. " You pleaded reaching for him.

Bucky straddled your chest and took his cock in his hand and started pumping it.

“You sure doll?” he questioned.

“Never been more sure James” you replied before opening your mouth.

Bucky growled out loud when you took him into your mouth. And when Steve sped up on your clit you moaned around Bucky causing him to thrust into you and moan out. " shit Y/N so fucking good.” Then Steve put his fingers inside you your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you screamed around Bucky.

“Fuck Steve keep doing that and I’m gonna cum down her throat” Bucky groaned.

But this only caused Steve to go faster with his tongue and his fingers,  causing you to go faster and deeper around Bucky’s dick. As your grabbed the back of Bucky’s thighs you pulled him deeper into your mouth causing him to hit the back of your throat. The faster Steve went the faster you went.

Bucky then called out grabbing the headboard and pounded into your throat until he came. You swallowed everything and as he pulled out you screamed out loud as you came around Steve’s mouth.

As you lay for a few minutes catching your breath you finally spoke up “You know James we both got to cum but poor Steve hasn't had the chance to.”

“You know doll your absolutely right” he agreed.

You sat up on your knees and placed a hand on Steve’s cheek bringing him close to you,  you kissed him.

“Steve how would you to come?” you whispered into his mouth.

“Huh?” he asked confused.

“How would you like me to make you come?” you asked again looking into his eyes. “do you want my mouth or do you want to come inside me?”

As soon as you said these words Steve pushed you back onto the bed

“I want to feel you Y/N” he breathed

He let out a gasp when you managed to maneuver him onto his back. As you straddled him you kissed his neck his jaw his ear, and while he squirmed beneath you, you took his cock into your hand and lined it up to enter you. When you sat down on him you both moaned in pleasure. His hands darting to you hips he started moving you.

“Fuck Steve, “ you groaned.

Then you felt lips on your neck “You’re not having this much fun without me “Bucky nipped at your ear.

You gasped when you felt the cold liquid hit your ass. “You think you can take us both doll,” asked.

“Please James I need you” you pleaded

“You have me Y/N” he promised slowly entering you making sure you were okay.

When both men were finally in you all stilled for a minute until you finally begged “God please,  please someone move. And with that, there was no stopping the two men from ripping the pleasure from your body.

When you heard Steve shout “I'm gonna cum” you heard Bucky behind you “Same” and their pace quickened causing one more orgasm to be pulled from you.

Bucky collapsed on top of you forcing you to collapse on top of  Steve.

“Guys can’t breathe“ Steve laughed.

Bucky slowly pulled out of you and helped you off Steve causing you to scrunch your face in discomfort.

“You okay?” Steve asked wrapping his body around you.

“I'm okay,  you?” you smile sleepily then tried to get up.

“Where you going?” Steve asked worryingly.

“just to the bathroom” You smiled and as you stumbled to the ensuite, Bucky came behind you and held you in his arms “Let me help you”

And he guided you to the bathroom closing the door when you entered.

When you had finished he helped you climb back into bed beside Steve and he then crawled in at the other side. As you shimmied up against Steve’s back you took Bucky’s arms and placed them around you. As you held on to both men tightly you fell asleep deeply for the first time feeling safe.

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