lunarevans - Tumblr blog

lunarevans · 2 years

Text

Pretty Little Thing

CHAPTER THREE - wasting away

warnings: thoughts of not being good enough, steve kinda being an asshole

word count: 1.81k

The Avengers’ compound was much bigger than she expected it to be. With every step she took, she considered turning right back around and returning to her nearly condemned apartment. Nadezhda remembered the original Avengers’ tower, how it had become a beacon of hope for the city of New York. She also remembered how people had nearly despised the team after the 2012 Battle of New York, how the once admired team had been under constant fire at the sight of a nearly destroyed city. Of course, they came back from it gallantly, they always did. No one could turn away from Steve Rogers when he spoke, and Nadezhda despised him for that.

A light pink jacket covered her body, the hood pulled over her dark hair and nearly hid her face. When she finally reached the door, she took a deep breath, muttering fuck it before entering the chilled lobby. The windows that surrounded the ground floor let in the constant stream of sunlight which gave her a slight headache. White sunglasses sat on her face, the only way to block out the bright yellow rays.

Approaching the front desk, a pretty blonde sat behind it, a headpiece reaching her red painted lips. “Hello! How can I help you today?”

Ignoring the fact that she was overly perky for nine in the morning, Nadezhda answered, “I guess I’m here to see the Avengers.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow, typing on the computer, asking, “Do you have an appointment?”

“I didn’t know I needed one, I was told they were expecting me.”

She let out a huff, “You need an appointment to meet with the Avengers, they’re very busy.”

Pulling down her sunglasses, red irises were exposed, “They’re expecting me.”

Fear was easy to smell, Nadezhda had learned early on that it radiated from the pores, giving a very sweet scent. That same aroma was coming from the blonde behind the desk.

“I’ll just call for Mr. Stark.”

A calm voice called out, “No need.”

“Romanoff, good to see the red’s back.”

“Komarova, nice to see your fangs are still sharp,” Natasha said playfully. They gave each other short hugs before Nat was asking her to follow. The elevator ride up to the fifth floor was short, which made Nadezhda partially nervous. Once they stepped out of the cramped space, she got to take in the living area of the compound. Another redhead was sitting on the couch and, even though her head was turned, Nadezhda knew it was Wanda Maximoff.

Her voice rang out, “I suppose Fury told you what I said.”

“You tell me, mind-reader,” she quipped, a smile on her glossed lips.

Wanda’s head finally turned, “I know I’m right. We do have a lot in common.” Nadezhda knew that to be true, the three women had more in common than any of them were willing to admit. They had all been taken advantage of, turned into machines to do the bidding of their controllers. Somehow, the Avengers had managed to take broken and beaten down people and turn them into heroes, seeking the glory that they were sure they didn’t deserve.

“You must be Nadezhda, you know Romanoff?” Tony Stark looked astronomically different than what she had seen on TV, thinner and definitely less egotistical. She knew Thanos broke them apart just as Hydra had done to her. It even made her a little sympathetic.

“Are you assuming I know her because we’re both Russian?” Her eyebrow quirked at him.

After he gave an unassuming shrug, she answered, “I mean, you’re right, we do know each other.” Tony laughed, giving her a firm pat on the back.

“Rogers! New recruit’s here!” He yelled, the mentioned Captain jogging slightly out to the area, the former Winter Soldier trailing much slower behind him.

He did a double take at Nadezhda, “I thought you said the new recruit was here?” She took this opportunity to remove her sunglasses, for no other reason so that he could see her roll her eyes.

Natasha snipped, “She is the new recruit, asshole.”

“She’s so...pink,” he observed, eyeing the white skirt that barely fell to the middle of her thighs.

“She could kick your ass.” Nadezhda smiled passively aggressively at the blond, who she decided was way too big for his own good.

“Name?” He virtually demanded it from her, which annoyed her more.

“Nadezhda, but you can call me Nadiona.”

“Those are nowhere near each other?”

Bucky and Natasha sighed. Bucky placed a hand on his friend’s soldier, “It’s the informal version of her name, it’s just Russian, Steve.”

Nadiona, as she would be more commonly known from this point, giggled at him. In response, he scoffed at her, and she immediately cut herself off, angered by this man. The man the city idolized was a dick, she asserted. Wanda let out a quiet giggle, quickly apologizing.

“Why don’t you take off your jacket and Wanda and I can show you around?” Nat asked, her hand outstretched, waiting for the pink garment.

Instantly regretting waiting to do her laundry until the night before, she sheepishly took off her outerwear, revealing a cropped, low-cut white tank top. It wouldn’t have been as bad if that had been the extent of the shirt but, of course, it wasn’t. In a light pink, cursive font, the word “baby” was sewn into the fabric.

“Aww, ‘baby’ that’s cute, I like that,” Wanda proclaimed, “C’mon Baby, let’s start the tour.”

It wasn’t as bad of a nickname as Nadiona had thought it would be. Ironic, really. Sharp fangs protruded from her gums, poison rampant in her veins, but one of the strongest Avengers was calling her “Baby”.

Natasha and Wanda led her through the maze-like hallways of the compound, and she was trying her best to keep up with her location. They instructed her to use FRIDAY if she ever got lost, seeing the confusion as they turned down another hall. Eventually, they reached another elevator, Nat’s finger pressing the highest number on the board, 7.

“Floor 5 is mainly just the necessities, training rooms, the kitchen, living area, things like that,” Nat explained, “6 is the lab, I doubt you’ll ever really need to be in there. 1 through 4 are the meeting rooms where we’ll be doing debriefings, briefings, and the occasional meetings with the US government whenever they see fit. 7 is where the living quarters are.”

Wanda looked at the other redhead, “Nat, you forgot to mention the best part about 5.” She turned back towards Nadiona, “5 is also where the event room is, Baby!”

They both took each of Nadiona’s hands as they exited into what resembled a lobby area. Looking around, she noticed a large window that overlooked the grounds of the compound, as well as a balcony. There was also a couch in this space, though it looked as if it was definitely used more, especially considering the large TV that sat atop of the mantle in the center of the area. A fireplace was below it, though that really didn’t mean much to someone who couldn’t feel any temperature.

Wanda took her hand once more, leading her down another few sets of hallways, calling out whose rooms they were as they passed. She had managed to sneak a few looks into the ones whose doors had been left open or slightly ajar. Sam Wilson’s room was extremely tidy, bed made, no clothes strewn anywhere, really just a complete opposite of her apartment. Bucky’s room was dark, his sheets a charcoal grey sitting under a black comforter, which was messily thrown from his bed. Peter Parker’s room looked exactly how she expected a teenage boy’s room to look, with the exception of the lego creations he had on some of the shelves.

“He’s a very nice boy, didn’t live with us full time until he started college. Be careful, though, if you listen to him long enough, he’ll start talking about Star Wars, and it’s hard to get him to stop,” Wanda explained about the teenager.

She had definitely noticed that when they passed by Steve’s room, the door was shut, and locked. It made her wonder what secrets he didn’t want the rest of his team finding out. Was he just messy? Did he have a brothel of women in there, serving him? She needed to know, just to sate this overwhelming feeling of annoyance she already felt towards him.

They stopped at another closed door, which Nat announced was her room. As the three women stepped in, Nadiona noticed it was very Natasha, in a good way. Her bed was right next to the door, and she knew Nat slept right next to the door in the event of a blitz attack. The room decor was similar to Bucky’s in its dark nature, but it was contrasted by the smiling photos she had placed around the room. A bookshelf sat in the corner, next to a desk, containing a multitude of books in varying languages, particularly Russian. A bathroom was connected to the room, and Nat explained that all of them were like that.

Wanda’s room was similar, in that it very much reflected her. Orange and yellow was the common theme of her living area, brightening up the room. Nadiona also noticed a lot of plants were placed around the room, breathing life into the air, refreshing it. Even her bathroom was decorated with the same scheme, a few plants in floating holders in there as well.

Finally, they led her to what would be her room. It was bare, save for a single lamp in the corner of the room. It smelled stale and was dreadfully boring. The beige walls would have to be changed immediately.

“Yeah, no one’s used this room in...well, ever,” Nat laughed.

Wanda inquired, “So when do you think you’ll move in?”

The thought, as well as the many others she was having, drew her head back in confusion. Nervously, she answered, “I haven’t decided on anything yet. I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not an Avenger, I-I’m the thing from peoples’ nightmares! I’ve never saved the world, just destroyed the good people in it. I don’t think I have what it takes to be like you guys, and I don’t think I ever will. You’re the good, I’m the bad. You shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of me being here, with you,” Nadiona was on the floor now, absolutely defeated. Those kinds of thoughts had crept into her mind before, but saying them out loud made them real, made them true. She wasn’t fit to be here, and she knew she should have never come.

Wanda kneeled on the ground next to her, a smile on her face, “You came here, didn’t you?”

39 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Thing

CHAPTER TWO - my burning heart

PRETTY LITTLE THING MASTERLIST

warnings: mention of depression, torture, and suicide, mention of blood

word count: 982

Getting used to the burning in her throat was easily the worst part. Nothing truly satiated her, the dull ache in her throat was always there, reminding her. She got out, eventually. Her curse remained, though, as if the torture and the murder hadn’t been bad enough. Hydra always left remnants of their cruelty behind, a signature. For Nadezhda, it was the sharp incisors that would have cut her tongue if she had been normal, it was the elevated senses that allowed her to smell, hear, and see everything, and it was the way her red eyes became black when she went too long without feeding. She had tried, fought herself with her entire being to see how long she could go. Eventually, Nadezhda gave in to her primal urges, it was forced upon her, like everything else.

New York was not a kind place, unlike anything the movies or books advertised. Of course, she could never be too sure, it was hard to keep up with the moving times, the relevant media, so she really only consumed media from the 20th century. Nothing much was around from her time, with the exceptions of books like Dracula, which was only self tormenting and not as funny as she thought it would be. While she lived to torment herself, she had deserved it, she would never do that again. It was too much, the lights and the noise. Everywhere was exactly like that, but it was easy to blend in being in such a large city. Small towns would have made her noticeable, a spectacle to behold. No one knew who she was in New York City.

That was, until Nick Fury approached her. She had maintained a relatively low profile, being that she almost never left her apartment. It was a shithole but it was a home, a place for her to be herself, free of judgement and questions and people. Her neighbors were predominantly elderly, who were too blind to make comments about her pale complexion. They were sweet enough, and she helped them with menial tasks: taking out their garbage, helping them text their children and grandchildren, and the occasional baking or cooking when they couldn’t read the recipes. Of course, she was trying to make up for her wrong doings from what she deemed her “past life”, despite having been in the same body.

Rain clouds plagued the New York skies, it had been non stop rainfall since about one that morning. Nadezhda had been reading, the bedroom in her apartment was stacked with books, in order to make up for the lack of bed. If anyone were to ask, not that anyone else had ever been inside her apartment, she would simply say that she slept on the couch, unable to afford a bed (which was slightly true). At noon, she had promised to get Mrs. Howard’s - who insisted that she had been in an affair with Kennedy - groceries. The store felt strangely empty, even for a Tuesday afternoon. She shrugged it off and continued on with Mrs. Howard’s list. As the only young person in the building, she held a lot of trust with her neighbors. Trust she didn’t feel she quite deserved but took on nonetheless.

The building didn’t feel right. It was a gut instinct but it had been right before. After dropping off the groceries to her next door neighbor, she approached her own apartment, the feeling of incorrectness never settling within her. Nadezhda carefully turned the knob after the key had been jimmied into the lock. She quickly opened the door, only to see the apartment just as she had left it. Nothing was out of place, but relief never found her and that dreadful feeling remained. Her feet carried her to the center of the living room, where she then heard the door shut behind her. She sighed.

“Whatever you’re here for, I’m not interested.” They had done this hundreds of times, and she was realising he would never give it up.

He gave a low whistle, “You haven’t even heard my offer. They’re offering benefits now, a place to sl - well, whatever you do.”

She turned around, facing him. “Really? Still not interested. I’m not a hero.”

“But you could be. Look what they’ve done for Barnes.” He wasn’t going to give up easily, but she should know that by now.

Rolling her eyes, she walked towards the dimly lit kitchen. “You mean what Rogers did for Barnes. After he and Stark had their little lovers’ quarrel. None of them want me there and, believe me, I don’t want to be there.”

“Romanoff does.” She paused, frozen if for only a moment in time. He had her with that one. She and Natasha went back to the assassin’s red room days, they had worked together on some highly classified case that the American government hadn’t even the slightest clue about.

“She said that?”

“Verbatim. Maximoff wants you there too, thinks y’all have a lot in common.”

“Did I save the world and wasn’t told? Listen, I know you’re trying to help but I don’t need it. I’m perfectly content right here.” The light above her went out.

He laughed, “I’m sure. So you’re perfectly content bathing in your own self misery? Letting yourself rot in this...place when you could be saving the world?”

“Self misery? The only misery I’m in is listening to your mindless babble about how great the Avengers are! They might fight for the greater good but I promise, they’re just as miserable as I am, in their glass house high above the city where all they can picture is jumping from the windows.”

He nodded, “Is that what you picture?”

“What are you, my fucking shrink?”

“Nadeazhda, I’m only here to help. The offer stands, they’ll be expecting you in the Avenger’s compound.”

“Fuck off, Fury”

#Steve Rogers #Steven Grant Rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #Natasha Romonova #tony stark #Avengers #The Avengers #ca:tfa #CA:TWS #captain america #ca:cw #endgame #infinity war #non canon

19 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Thing

CHAPTER ONE - all my blood

warnings: graphic depictions of torture, normal hydra antics

word count: 1.13k

они шли. они шли. они шли. They were coming. It was only a fraction of a second. A moment too small to capture, to remember. They were there. A silent sob, a plea for mercy to whoever was listening, escaped her ragged lungs and hot tears began to fall down her face. She attempted to save herself, not physically, she knew it was over. By daylight, she might be dead. спасти себя. спасти себя. спасти себя. Save yourself.

Меня зовут Надежда Алексеевна Комарова. My name is Nadezhda Alexeevna Komarova. Я родился в городе Лопасня, Россия, в 1892 году. I was born in Lopasnya, Russia, in 1892. Мой отец - Алексей, а мама - Елизавета. My father is Alexei and my mother is Elizaveta.

She wasn’t sure how many times she repeated it. It was also uncertain how many times they had hit her when they found her in the tight storage space. Her nose bled onto her lips and the cuts on her cheeks spread blood onto her neck. Nadezhda whimpered her chant - her saving grace - until they had wrapped their hands too tightly around her throat and she could speak no more. It repeated in her brain. Over and over and over. With a boot to the chest, she heard a sickening crack and an anguished cry fell from her bruised lips.

Не могу больше. Не могу больше. Не могу больше. Can’t take it anymore. This was not a pledge. No promise of fighting her captors and escaping. This was the sigh of final defeat from a broken young girl who could fight no more. She hoped death was peaceful. Hoped for fields of flowers and wispy clouds and a bright sun with no risk of dark.

Instead, she awoke in a pitch black cell with blood matting her dark hair to her pale face. It was at this moment that she let out a loud, deserving cry. She cried for who she had been and what she had done. There was no telling what she had done, though, to deserve this.

It was only when a yellow light creeped under the figure of a large man standing outside of her cell that Nadezhda could tell when morning had come. Under her green eyes there were dark red stains, proof of a sleepless night. She had been too afraid of her unknown fate to sleep.

As he unlocked the cell, she only half-expected food, even if it was paste. Rather, he grabbed a fistful of her long hair and dragged her all the way down the hall. The room he brought her to was practically empty, save for a bucket of water. She was mistaken when she thought it was for drinking. He threw her face down onto the ground and another cut was formed on her forehead. Before she had time to yell, his fist was in her hair again, pulling out chunks and leaving scratches on her scalp. Then she was submerged in water. He would bring her up for a small taste of air then dunk her again. She lost count of how many times he played this game. Finally he pulled her up and smiled.

“приветствовать гидру” Hail Hydra.

Only a second she looked at him before she spit a mouthful of water at him. “пошел на хуй” Fuck you. A small victory, she thought, until he threw her face down onto the edge of the bucket and her vision went black.

This routine went on for a few more days. Every day, a different guard would drag her to the room and submerge her, trying to break her. God, were they close. They became more violent, however. Tools she had seen her father use to garden would end up breaking into her skin, becoming friends with the bones she protected. They never beat her eyes, though. No, they wanted her to see herself break.

It was uncertain how many days passed before a new guard came to her cell, once more. Her stomach no longer growled for food, too tired of being disappointed. The burn in her throat meant nothing if it meant she was winning.

“ты счастливчик. мы щадим тебя.” You are lucky. We spare you. The twisted grin on his face, which showed his yellowing teeth, made her believe otherwise.

A sack was placed tightly around her neck, barring her from seeing her place of captivity. Eventually, a boot was violently placed in the back of her legs, and her legs wobbled as she fell to the ground. The large man with the yellow teeth aggressively threw her onto a chair. She had been in a chair like this before, at the few times she had been to the doctor. She was reclined back and restraints held her wrists and ankles into place. Not that they would even be necessary, she was far too weak to do anything.

Looking around, she noticed a man she had not seen before, when she had entered. He wore a long, white coat and spectacles. Nadezhda assumed he was a doctor. As he held up a syringe, she knew she was correct. God, how she wished she wasn’t. A tight band was placed on the upper part of her thinning arms. He tapped the bend in her arm two times before he injected her with the contents of the syringe. Soon after, her vision became fuzzy and her hearing became distant. She tried to keep her eyes open, the only fight she had left in her.

When she tried to listen to the doctor and the yellow-teeth man talk, hoping for answers, she could only catch “сыворотка” and “змея”. Serum. Snake. Her breathing became shallow and panic rose in her chest. She tried to flail her arms in the seat and began to cry when they seemed to be sunk by weights. Another syringe was quickly injected into her arm and her veins began to erect with life - or death, perhaps. She had never known worse pain. A thousand beatings could not stand to bear the weight of this fire within her. She rose off the chair as the fire attempted to claim her heart. Her brain moved quickly.

Меня зовут Надежда Алексеевна Комарова. Я родился в городе Лопасня, Россия, в 1892 году. Мой отец - Алексей, а мама - Елизавета.

Another fire erupted in her mouth and she felt the pressure of her canines biting on her tongue turn to stabbing pain. She opened her mouth, letting silent cries out until her eyes began to feel the familiar burn as well. Then she was vocal, she yelled and screamed, but it was useless. Sighs fell from her lips, the blood seeping into her irises and venom flowing through her veins.

“довольно маленький вампир,” the doctor said. Pretty little vampire.

6 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

☽lunarevans masterlist☽

⍟ STEVE ROGERS

✪ ongoing series

➣ pretty little thing

✪ completed series

✪ one-shots

⍟ CHRIS EVANS

✪ ongoing series

✪ completed series

✪ one-shots

➣ first days

➣ babydoll

➣ the warmth of summer

63 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Thing Masterlist

prologue

chapter one - all my blood

chapter two - my burning heart

chapter three - wasting away

chapter four

chapter five

tba

20 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Thing Prologue

Venom flowed freely from her veins as blood flowed from her mouth. The pointed canines no longer resided uncomfortably on her tongue. She hated the way he looked at her, like he was golden and she was yet another monster for him to defeat. Maybe she was.

“Close your mouth,” he directed pointedly. Such a good captain. Tony and Natasha were right in some respect. Those broad shoulders held a certain power to them. He was definitely a leader.

“Oh, but sweet малыш, I’m such a pretty little thing like this.”

Nadezhda Komarova’s been through hell. Hydra’s notorious experimentation has turned her into a creature of nightmares - mostly her own. The Avengers are a safe haven. Well, except for Steve Rogers, who absolutely cannot stand her. This rift causes tension not only in the compound, but even on the battlefield. He hates her, and doesn’t care if she knows it. Oh, but she’s such a pretty little thing.

STORY WARNINGS: eventual smut (18+ minors dni), blood, (light and nondescriptive) gore, mentions of torture, nightmares and scary visions, slight allusions to depression and suicide, and finally, nasty thoughts about steve.

sidenote: this is not endgame cannon like at all lol fuck that. this story will also be up on ao3 or wattpad if yall prefer to read on those sites. i’m so excited for this one guys.

#Steve Rogers #Steven Grant Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #Avengers #the avengers #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes imagine #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #tony stark #bruce banner #clint barton #thor #thor odinson

35 notes · View notes

lunarevans · 3 years

Text

Hey remember what I said about making changes to the OTW and AO3 from the inside? Fuck that shit, I was completely wrong. Stop giving them money, stop wasting time voting in their rigged elections, and start giving them noisy, angry hell on every single fucking platform you can find. Especially white people.

I loathe being stuck between the rock and the hard place of AO3 being the ONLY place I get any kind of engagement on my fic, and how much I hate, in order, the organization and people who run it, their policies, their volunteers, and the people who stan for them.

The urge to take my fics down from their site and just deal with the fact I'll never have readers again gets stronger every day

11K notes · View notes

lunarevans · 4 years

Text

HOW TO DONATE TO BLM WHEN YOU HAVE NO MONEY

a black woman named zoe amira posted a video on youtube. this video is an hour long and filled with art and music from black creators. it has a ton of ads, and in result will rack up a ton of revenue. 100% of the ad revenue from the video will be dispersed between various blm organizations, including bail-out funds for protesters. it will be split between the following, dependent on necessity

brooklyn bail fund

minnesota freedom fund

atlanta action network

columbus freedom fund

louisville community bail fund

chicago bond

black visions collective

richmond community bail fund

the bail project inc

nw com bail fund

philadelphia bail fund

the korchhinski-parquet family gofundme

george floyd’s family gofundme

blacklivesmatter.com

reclaim the block

aclu

turn off your adblocker and put the video on repeat. do not skip ads. let it play on loop whether you’re listening or not. mute the tab if you need to focus elsewhere. but let. it. play.

youtube will donate to blm for you.

youtube

please, please reblog. for people who don’t have money to spare, this is incredibly important information to have.

265K notes · View notes

lunarevans · 5 years

Text

first days

pairings: chris evans x reader

warnings: emotional chris

You knew as soon as you woke up that morning that it would be one of those days. A constant in your hectic life was waking up at 4:30 in the morning. It seemed dramatic, sure, but it gave you time to yourself which proved a rarity with three kids, an overly-attached husband, and a business to run.

With a cup of coffee in your hand, you sat at the kitchen table, laptop open and baby monitor at the ready. You were so caught up in figuring out new ideas to sell to the public that you were startled by the sound of your two year old son crying. Running to his room was a challenge, seeing as you didn’t want to wake up the rest of the house.

As you took him out of his crib, holding him close to your chest, you were upset to feel how warm he was. When he threw up, you knew that he had caught the flu which had made its way (or so you thought) through your family, starting with Chris and ending with your eight year old daughter. This caused even more of a problem for you purely because today was your older daughters’ first days of school.

You walked with your son to your room, laying his tiny body beside your sleeping husband. After you had changed into clothes which didn’t have vomit on them, you saw it was time to wake up your eight year old and five year old daughters.

“Mommy what if I don’t want to go to kindergarten?” your youngest daughter asked as you did her hair.

“Why wouldn’t you wanna go?” You kissed her on the cheek, helping her off the chair while making sure her hair wasn’t messed up.

“Well Miles said kindergarten sucks,” laughing at the mention of your nephew, you assured her that it didn’t.

Praising the moment your husband walked into the kitchen, you immediately put him to work making sandwiches for the girls’ lunches.

“What if I don’t? Does that mean they won’t go?” This made you stop filling up a syringe with flu medicine for your son to look at Chris.

“What? You don’t want the girls to go?” He only nodded, sadly putting condiments on the sandwiches.

“No, honey, I don’t. This only means they’re getting older which means they’re ready to leave us. Do you want them to leave us?” He seemed frantic, almost like this kept him up at night (which it probably did).

You rubbed your very tired eyes, already exhausted for the day and spoke, “Chris, they are five and eight. They both still have to sleep with nightlights, I don’t think they’re ready to leave us.” With that, you kissed him on the forehead and proceeded to give your two year old “cherry-flavored” flu medicine.

When the time came to put the girls on the bus, Chris’ hugs lingered, sadness invading in his usually cheery demeanor. You tried to rationalize with him, saying you had done this four times before with your oldest.

“First days of school will always be sad as long as they’re our little ones” he replied, waving to his girls on the bus.

After you finished cleaning the kitchen, you made your way to your youngest’s room, making sure the flu medicine had put him to sleep. Instead of seeing him in his crib, you saw your son against your husband’s clothed chest, cheeks red as he slept. Upon noticing you, Chris gently placed him in the crib, making sure to kiss his warm forehead.

Both of you leaned against the door as you watched your son sleep. You found this the perfect time to whisper to Chris, “They’ll always be our little ones, first days could never change that.”

He seemed pleased with your reasoning, bargaining, “Then let’s make another one.”

#Steve Rogers #Chris Evans #christopher robert evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #captain america #ca:tfa #CA:TWS #ca:cw

241 notes · View notes