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thewalkingfanfictions · 4 years

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Relax (Steve Rogers x Nonbinary!reader)

“Imagine taking care of Steve after a particularly difficult mission.”

Relax -- (Steve Rogers x Nonbinary!reader)

Description: Steve comes back from a bad mission, and the reader (with powers similar to Jasper from Twilight) has to help him relax.

Warning: some depressing stuff from Steve and some vague mentions of a failed mission including fire and kids or something. Probably a couple cuss words, I dont remember.

Genre: general fluff, but it starts out kinda angsty, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Hurt!Steve Rogers (Captain America) x non gender specific!reader

A/N: once again, I wrote this when I was, what, ten? So, like... don't judge. Or do, I don't really care, actually. Gif isn't mine, y'all should know that. I finally managed to post it onto the right page, be proud. I'm still leaving it up over there, though, cause I'm too lazy to actually delete it fully. Anyway...

Words without A/N: 1942

Masterlist

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He hadn't been able to save all of them. He should have been able to save all of them. There had been children, babies even. And he hadn't been able to save them. He hadn't been able to get them all out of the building in time.

It had been a very long, and very hard mission. He had known it would be from the start, but he hadn't realized just how mentally damaging it would've been. He could still hear the screams of the victims still trapped inside of the burning building that he should've been able to save.

All he could think about was the people who had lost their lives, and the people who had lost loved ones, as he trudged into the elevator that would take him to his floor of the Avengers Tower. He didn't even bother to go to the debriefing that was held after the mission, he just headed towards his room in some desperate attempt to escape his pain and grief and stress.

As he made his first step off of the elevator on his floor, he vaguely registered someone speaking to him.

"Mistah Rogers? Are you alright? Well, no, uh, of course you're not alright. I can feel what happened. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mistah Rogers."

The sweet, slanted voice of (name) (last name) broke through the somber fog that had seemed to wrap itself around his mind. He usually rather enjoyed the empath's ramblings, but right now their reading his emotions was not good. He had to keep up his hero facade, if he didn't, he might as well be walking away from himself. So in an attempt to get away from them, he just grunted and kept walking.

"Mistah Rogers? Hey, did you hear me?"

'Just go away, kid,' he thought to himself. He felt his emotional support beams snap just a moment before he rounded on the empath.

"You know, for somebody who has the literal ability to read peoples feelings and emotions, you sure can't tell when your presence isn't wanted, can you?!" He growled, his voice dangerously low. He didn't mean that, of course, he just couldn't deal with people right now. He saw a flash of hurt cut across their eyes at his words, but it quickly demolished and reformed into some odd form of understanding.

"Oh I'm... I'm sorry–I'll, uh, I'll just g-go now," they replied in a stuttered mumble, before scurrying towards the elevator. As he watched their heel disappear behind the metal doors, he almost reached out to tell them he didn't mean it; but the door was too fast, and before the words could escape his lips, the (your hair color) haired empath was gone from sight.

He let out an irritated sigh and ran a hand over his face, before about-facing, and continuing the trek to his room.

The second he kicked the door closed behind him, he was taking off his clothing and slipping into a pair of baggy sweat pants, and belly-flopping down onto his too-soft bed.

He just laid there a moment, feeling himself slip into that beautifully fuzzy haze of not-full-consciousness and not full sleep. Focusing on that and not the ache in his shoulders and back or the sound of screaming that still reverberating in his mind was probably why he didn't notice the soft knock that came to his door, or the click of the hinges as it was pushed open slightly to reveal the same (hair color) haired, (eye color) eyed person that he had nearly shouted at in the hallway only a few moments before. He should have been ashamed of his lack of vigilance, but in all honestly, thinking back on it later he would probably be glad he hadn't.

The empath carried a small bag that held several different items in it. Most of which Steve would deny ever using if he was ever asked outright. Everything from essential oils to lavender scented bath soaps were held in that bag.

~~~~~~~

They knew that Stevens previous explosion was not really aimed at them, he was only stressed and in desperate need of some well deserved R&R. They also knew that what they were about to do could get them yelled at by the super soldier, but they couldn't not help him. Part of being an empath was feeling someone else's pain as if it were one's own, and right now, all the pain and anger and grief that he felt was also within them. So their doing this for him was to help them almost as much.

Hesitantly, they reached out a trembling hand and placed it upon his bare shoulder. At the initial contact he stiffened and sharply inhaled, but, as they released some of their power, he immediately began to calm down.

Another part of their power was the ability to manipulate other peoples emotions. It may not have been the coolest power, but, in times like this, they found it rather useful.

They removed their hand from his shoulder just long enough to rub some essential oils and lotions onto their hands, before replacing them on his shoulder and softly beginning to massage away the tension. His muscles were still so wound up from the mission that it took them a few moments to get through to his sore flesh, but the moment they did, he let out a small breathy groan that brought a small smile to their lips.

They worked their way all the way across his broad shoulders, and then down his back, all the way to the band of his low-riding sweatpants and back up to repeat the motion again in backwards order. Switching between soft kneading and harder circles with the heel of their small hand, continuing for the better part of an hour until his muscles were back to their previous limber flexibility.

They had noted some twenty minutes before that his groans and sighs of appreciation had morphed into soft snores and the rapid flow of rabid emotions that had cut though his consciousness before were now down to a minimum.

'Good,' they thought, 'its working.'

But now that they needed him to move, it could be possibly problematic. Gently, they moved up to his face and gingerly placed a pale hand upon it, shaking him slightly to wake him and whispered quietly.

"Hey, Mistah Rogers... he, I need you to roll over for me... Do you think you can, love?"

His beautiful blue eyes opened just a slit to see their face and he let out a rather loud, guttural moan as he pushed himself to roll onto his back, his tired muscles not quite awake enough to push himself up with much grace, as he just kind of flopped over, one arm layed across his abdomen the other still trapped under his body. They gently pulled his arm from under his body, and layed the other straight beside him, before re-applying more lotions and returning to message his front side.

Again, they started at one shoulder and worked their way across to the other, then worked their way down his chest and stomach, then back up before going to his bicep and massaging down his arm, all the way to his hand, going back up, then repeating the action with his other arm.

They left him for a moment to go to his bathroom and start the bath. Taking the correct products from their bag, they began pouring in generous amounts of bath salts and bubbles as it filled.

They quickly went back into his bedroom and softly shook him back awake, careful not to be too harsh.

"Hey, there, Mistah Rogers, come on, I've got a bath running for you."

His eyes opened ever so slightly yet again to take in their face, and process what the (eye colored) eyed empath had said. With a groan, he pushed himself to a sitting position, and allowed them to pull him into the bathroom. Once there, they turned to him expectantly before blushing heavily and turning their back to him so he could slip out of his sweats. He was far too tired to be very embarrassed at the happenings as he gingerly climbed into the bath, using the bubbles as a sort of blanket to hide his, heh, "intimate area" from view.

As soon as they knew he was covered decently, they turned back with a washcloth and poured some soap onto it, scrubbing the foam into the rag to make it sudsy.

They bent and sat on their knees at the side of the tub, leaning forward and not hesitating to begin washing him with the utmost care.

~~~~~~~

The feeling of their rag covered hand scouring over his body gave him chills, he hadn't felt so well taken care of like this since before the serum, when his oldest freind would take care of him when he was sick. And, as much as he hated to admit it, it felt amazing. To be vulnerable to someone like this had an almost orgasmic quality to it. He let his head drop back onto the edge of the tub and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully relax against their adept hands as they swept his body.

He felt the soft rag cross his shoulders, then down his arms, then across his toned stomach, stopping before their hands dipped bellow the belt line and went down his legs, all the way down to his feet.

He felt as their unclothed hand moved down his arm and gently grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand above the waters bubbly surface and setting the wash rag in his hand. Wordlessly, they gestured to his groin area, asking him to wash himself while they left to get some dry towels.

He did as they had silently asked, and they returned quickly with two large, fluffy, white towels to dry him with. The empath helped him stand and step out of the bathtub, handing him one of the towels to dry his front while they patted dry his back.

He stood as still as he could on limbs that felt like gelatin as they finished drying him and helped him back into his sweat pants. Leading him back to his bed. They pulled back the bed spread and helped him lie down in a comfortable position.

They stayed like that for a few moment, just watching each other, before (name) smiled a small smile, squeezed his hand, and turned to leave.

But their hand didn't leave his.

He held them back until they looked back down at him with curious eyes.

"Thank you," they said simply. "and... call me Steve."

Their answer was just a kind smile and another soft squeeze to his hand. They tried yet again to move away from him, but again was stopped by him not releasing their hand. A small blush creeped onto his cheeks as he asked quietly:

"Would you, uh, would, would you mind staying with me, for tonight?" He quietly questioned.

Yet again their responding smile answered his question as they crawled down into the bed beside him. He turned towards the empath and they pulled him towards them, resting his head on their chest and reaching up to toy with his still slightly wet blonde hair.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep in their embrace, and not much longer for them to follow suit. Their hand still buried in his soft hair.

Let's just say that it was the best night of sleep either of them had had in a very long time.

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