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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month

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the smouldering scar

fused with the foe, chapter three

a/n: big reveal in this one, you guys. hold on to your butts!

summary: you didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, crying

word count: 3430

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It nearly looked like snow. But you knew it wasn’t. It was ash that swirled around in the smoky air outside of the small windows.

Sitting on the floor of the chamber that shot off of the grand throne room, your back was pressed back against the stone wall. Numerous servants, mostly elderly ones or others who couldn’t join on the battlefield, had, with a handful of wardens, all gathered in that meeting room. Some were seated at the round table in the middle while others had opted for the floor like you.

Hugging your knees to your chest, one of your hands slowly slid up and down your shin in a self-soothing caress, the movement eventually came to a stop on the top of your knee. Glancing down, you couldn’t help but turn your wrist and stare at the symbolic scar that marked your palm. Without really realising it, your other fingers came up to trace it gently as the terrifying reality of what was occurring just outside of these castle walls nearly ate you alive.

With every hellish thought that fluttered in your mind, you became nervous that you were mere moments away from throwing your breakfast back up.

What if Steve didn’t make it back? What if he was lying dead somewhere right now? What if he was just charred enough to make his demise inevitable, but draw his last few moments out in a torturous wait? What if you had to rule this kingdom, that you’d barely even gotten your footing in, all alone?

Suddenly, doors on the other side of the room were forced open so loudly that it ripped you from your paralysing thoughts and made you jump. Lifting yourself up to your feet, your eyes stayed glued to the exit.

But when the door to the chamber was pushed open, all of the air slipped out of your lungs in an instant.

With soot and scrapes tainting their features, there stood the royal who wouldn’t escape your worries, alongside numerous soldiers behind him.

“Turner, Hardy,” not even taking a second to breathe, he instantly called to the wardens who had been guarding the chamber, “go get some supplies, blankets, food and water, as well as some healing supplies to the throne room,” he commanded, “we’ll use it as a sanctuary and gather the people who lost their homes as well as prepare for some of the injured since the hospital is already dangerously close to full capacity–”

Before you even knew what was happening, you’d crossed the room and nearly tackled the king from how forcefully you threw your arms around him. A breath of air seeped out of his lungs at the blow. It wasn’t till his touch slowly found your spine that you realised what you had done. Scurrying back like his touch had shocked you, “I’m sorry,” your wide eyes blinked up at him and your stomach twisted at the reality of what you’d just done, “I didn’t–…” though when you met his gaze, your shoulders melted back down into place as you uttered, “hi.”

“Hey,” he breathed, staring down at you as guards rushed around him, dashing to fulfil his commands, “are you alright?”

“I’m–…” for a split second you were gonna spill to him just how terrifying it had been, how scared you still were, but looking back at him and the other knights, seeing the obvious signs of the fire they’d just walked through, you instinctively withered down and replied, “yeah. I’m fine,” you tried your best to keep your tone steady, “are you? What happened? Did you–…”

“Steve,” haven already migrated into the chamber, Bucky then tossed the king a roll of bandages, “we’ve got this here, you go take care of your side.”

Watching Steve’s quick reflexes catch the cloth with one hand, your gaze then grew again as it scanned his frame, “your side? What happened to your side?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to relax his clenched jaw as he said, “it’s fine.”

With chaos buzzing all around the room, you searched his steely eyes a moment before you then turned on your heel. Snatching up one of the healing kits resting on the central table, you then glanced over your shoulder and gestured with your head, “come.”

Weaving through the crowd, you slipped into the vacant war room. A thick table, littered with maps and little markers, grounded the space. Not glancing back at him as you heard him shadow you, he slowly began to lay down the weapons still strapped to him as you pulled out a chair and sat the wooden box down on the table, the glass vials within it clinked against each other at the force.

“You don’t have to help me,” his deep voice was quiet as he stayed near the door, “this isn’t my first burn.”

Unlatching the lid, you glanced back at him as you opened the box, “do you not want my help?”

“No,” he shook his head and lowered his shield and axe to a chair he passed when his feet finally began to shift.

“Then take your armour off,” you nodded clinically as you returned your gaze to the herbs before you.

As he began to near you, he slowly started to loosen the straps of his leather armour, gently shedding it as he watched you search through the kit.

“Where is it, where is it…” you muttered as you plucked up the bottles and read the scribbled labels, looking for the right thing, “ah!” you exclaimed as you located the elderberry and milkweed salve, “there!”

Steve’s brows knit together gently as he placed one of his layers on the chair beside the one you sat in, “…you know how to treat a burn?”

“Yes,” you met his eye, “why? Did you not think someone like me would know about the art of healing? That it would be too grotesque for my fragile little soul?”

“No, I just–… I didn’t know that about you,” he leaned back against the table.

“So, what happened out there?” your eyes flicked down to the crimson stain on his ivory tunic.

Letting out a low exhale, a moment passed before he uttered, “I don’t know if maybe we’d been more prepared that we would have been able to win… we tried everything, but it got away… flew out west… with barely even a fucking scratch…” his eyes stayed locked on the same crack in the floor by his boots, “people that I’ve known and fought beside all of my life got turned to ash in seconds… houses were burned down, fields were set a flame… it just doesn’t make sense… none of it does… I’ve studied dragons and never, anywhere, have I come across an account of them just stopping by a town to kill a few folks before up and leaving again. Dragons are greedy, they’re solitary, they’re highly intelligent, I–…” a heavy sigh then seeped from his lungs, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

A knock then echoed at the door.

Clearing the thickness in his throat, Steve lifted his gaze and said, “yes?”

An elderly servant, balancing a tray, creaked the door open, “I thought some refreshments might do you good, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” the king mustered a small smile as she sat the pitcher and glasses down beside him before disappearing out the door once more.

Carefully, Steve then peeled his soot and blood-stained tunic over his head and revealed the nasty burn that stretched across his left ribs.

It was terrible, but for a moment you grew thankful for his distracting injury as you tried your hardest not to make the face that his burly physique conjured.

As you began to smear the salve carefully over the burn, a stifled groan slipped out of him at your first touch.

“Sorry,” the muscles in your body tensed as you could only imagine the pain he was in.

“It’s alright,” he uttered through controlled breaths as he watched your fingers glide over the angry blisters that bubbled at his scorched waist.

Popping the cork back into the stout glass container when the salve had been spread over his wound, you then picked up the bandage and your efforts almost caused you to hug him again as you wrapped it around his abdomen.

When the clean cloth was secured and you’d turned to pack the supplies back up, Steve suddenly remembered, “oh, you should probably have this back,” and removed the borrowed chain you’d been too blind to notice dangling from his neck. Placing the necklace in your palm, a small smile twitched at his lip, “thank you for lending it to me. One could always use a little more bravery and not just when an actual dragon’s spewing off fire over your head.”

“I guess so,” your head cocked slightly, unsure what prompted him to say that.

Searching your expression, he said, “you know, because of the rune.”

“What?”

“Because it means courage,” he pointed down to the scratch in the opalescent stone, “did you don't know that?”

“It does?” you glanced down at the necklace like you were seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah. Is that not why you wear it?”

“No, I’ve just always worn it,” your head gently shook from side to side, “kinda thought of it as a good luck charm since it’s the only item of my mother's I’ve ever had…”

“Cosima, are you sure there isn’t anything more we can do to help?” Steve asked the farmer sincerely.

Shaking her head, her grey locks were cropped so short that they only offered a silver shadow of hair, “you’ve already done so much, your majesty.”

Glancing around at the charred remains of the farm that had gotten the brunt of the dragon attack, the king spotted the gloomy girl that shyly shadowed Cosima’s wife as her fingers stayed weaved in the spotted fur of a young sheepdog.

“Is that your granddaughter back there playing with that puppy?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, a sombre smile twitched at her lip, “yeah, that’s our little parsnip.”

“How is she taking it?” he asked slowly.

“I think our attempt at distracting her is actually working, even just a little bit…” her eyes stayed on the dog a moment longer before she glanced back at the king and you beside him, “the attack turned too many children into orphans. We’re staying with the blacksmith and his wife while we rebuild the farm,” she spoke, “and his brother and sister-in-law didn’t make it as well, so now they are taking care of their nephew.”

“Wait, Mary and Richard?” Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “I didn’t know they were among the deceased.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Standing by his side, you’d let Steve do most of the talking. Not just because he knew the people better, but you also just didn’t know what to say without bursting into tears.

Staring at the kid slightly obscured by her grandmother, your feet couldn’t help but shift closer to her and Steve’s voice, “…I was thinking of gathering the town council again tomorrow if you could spread the word to the rest of the members,” slowly faded away as you neared.

Kneeling down before her, you mustered a gentle smile as you asked, “is this your dog?”

Staring up at you, her weary and bloodshot eyes were wide as she quietly replied, “yes.”

“What’s its name?”

Scarcely breathing in your presence, the girl timidly said, “his name is Oak.”

“Hello, Oak,” you scratched the puppy’s fluffy ear, “aren’t you adorable…”

“Excuse me, what?” you glanced up from the expansive map that screeched across the table of the war room and blinked back at the king.

“I said, what do you think we should do?” Steve repeated, “what do you wanna do?”

“You want my opinion?” your shock shined clear through your tone, “really?”

“Of course, I do.”

Letting your gaze flutter to the seagulls flying by outside the window, you exhaled, “well… I’m not sure what I could do to help. I honestly feel kinda helpless,” you shared, “I’m not a carpenter, I can’t help rebuild the homes that burnt down…” but then an idea tickled the back of your mind, “where is it again that the orphanage is located?”

“In The Dandelion Quarter, down by the docks,” Steve’s chin tilted slightly, “what were you thinking?”

“Well, it’s not much, but I kinda wanna go down there, visit the kids if they’ll let me. I don’t know if that’s dumb, but maybe it wouldn’t be nothing if I put some effort into distracting them a bit or whatever they might need. Is that stupid? To do that for as long as they’ll let me?”

“No,” he shook his head, “no, not at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” letting his fingers ghost over the backs of the chairs, he slowly curved around to the side of the table where you stood, “we both have an idea of what it’s like to lose your parents. I think it’s a great idea.”

As your lips twitched up into a smile, so did his.

Though as you stood there and momentarily let yourself disappear into his gaze, a thought struck you and you soon found your lips parting once more.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?” he simply hummed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

Noticing that you were gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you forced yourself to stop before you uttered, “why is it that you call me dove?”

You didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright,” slowly nodded before following him out of the chamber.

You’d never before entered the room he then showed you to, never even realised there was anything down this corridor. Though a bit dusty, the magnificent office he’d led you to only granted you more questions than answers.

“This was my mom’s study,” Steve said slowly as he stepped aside and let you explore the space, “I haven’t changed a thing in here since she died. Everything’s still exactly as she left it.”

As you glanced around the room, from the polished desk to the untouched tea set still sitting by a soft armchair, a painting on the far side wall caught your eye and made all of the hair of your body stand up.

The portrait was in an informal style, depicting a teenage girl with her arm around another. One of them you knew to be the same lady illustrated countless other paintings within the castle, but the other, the young plump woman depicted in a pair of billowy pants, her you recognised as well.

“Oh my–, is that–…” scarcely breathing at all, you tore your stare away from the painting, “Steve, why is there a portrait of my mother in here?”

Sucking in a breath, his low voice then found your ears once more, “because that is a painting of my mother and her best friend.”

“H-her–,” you felt as if the world might fall out from under you, “what?”

“Our mothers were friends,” he shared slowly, “they grew up together.”

With brows tightly knitted together, you blinked between the king and the painting, “she was born here?”

“She was,” he nodded.

“I–… I knew my mom wasn’t from Obelón, but I never knew she was from here…” tears began to blur up your vision as you stared up at the portrait, “this doesn’t make any sense… I always thought my mother hated this kingdom… she was on a diplomatic mission here when she died, trying to stop the war our marriage eventually put an end to.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he softly corrected.

Whipping your head back at him once more, “what?”

“She wasn’t here for any political reason,” he disclosed, “it wasn’t unusual for her to visit her home, but even that wasn’t the reason why she was here when she passed,” he sucked in a breath before continuing, “Y/n, she was trying to escape. Trying to find a way for both her and her children to leave your father.”

“She was? I always thought they were happy together, that they loved each other.”

“They might have in the very beginning, I don’t know,” you slowly sank down into a chair as he spoke, “but I do remember the way that she spoke about him back then and it was with anything but love. I might have been young, but I wasn’t a complete idiot about what was going on around me.”

“You knew her?”

“I did,” he exhaled, “I mean, I was just a small child, but yeah, I remember her well.”

Feeling your body tremble at the discovery, you hazily heard yourself ask, “would you–… could you tell me about her?”

Offering you a small nod, he then sat down in the armchair opposite the one you found yourself in.

“My mom always told me that she and Saoirse were practically attached at the hip as kids. Where the crown princess went, your mother followed and vice versa. But at my mother’s coronation, Saoirse met King Ivan and it didn’t take long before he swept her with him. They tried to keep in contact, the best that they could, but at one point the letters were so few and far in between that my mom had nearly lost all hope in the kinship. But then, one day, after I was born, your mother started coming around again. She became like family to me as well. Taught me how to skip rocks, how to throw a punch, she even told me stories of the gods. But the last time she was here it was different, everything was different… my memories from that far back are fairly spotty, but I still remember every single thing from that night… the night that you were born… when Saoirse realised her fate, she made my mother promise her that she’d look out for you, that she’d protect you no matter what. We tried to keep you here, to keep you from going back to the very place your mom had worked so hard at freeing you from, but at the end of the day, all we had to prove you staying here were the dying words of a mother, not the blood you shared with a king. My mom always kept an eye on you for the remainder of her life. And then she made me promise to do the same.”

Feeling a heavy tear drip from your chin and down into your lap, you uttered, “so, that’s why you married me?”

Meeting your eye, he uttered, “I married you to protect the daughter of a very kind lady I once knew. I married you to keep up a promise I made to my mother.”

“I see…” the fact that he wed you out of kindness and duty somehow didn’t help how overwhelmed you still felt, “I still don’t understand though why you call me dove. I get why you told me all of this, and I’m-… thank you for doing so, but what does it have to do with that nickname?”

Weaving his fingers together, he glanced down at them, “your mom, uh… it’s what she called you whenever she’d talk to her belly,” unclasping his hands, one of them briefly fluttered up to scratch the nape of his neck, “hell, my mom even continued to call you that long after your father gave you a proper name. I didn’t really realise I was doing it, guess it subconsciously just kind of slipped out when I met you, but I can stop if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No,” you swiftly shook your head, “you don’t have to stop.”

Glancing up at you, he offered a light nod, “alright.”

Letting your vision flutter back to the youthful depiction of your mother, your eyes took in every little detail as a stomach-turning thought haunted your mind till you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…do you remember what chamber it was that she–…” turning your head to meet his gaze, you couldn’t get yourself to finish the sentence, though thankfully, the king didn’t need any more words to understand.

“I do…”

Your eyes flickered to your lap to spot the few splotchy tears that had stained the silk.

“…could you show it to me?”

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elixirfromthestars · 7 months

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A Rainy Rendezvous

Pairing: Steve Rogers x CIA!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night during a mission in Poland, you "bump into" someone who held a very important place in your heart in the past.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): brief mentions of CIA operatives / a bit of angst / a sprinkle of fluff / the one that got away vibes / mentions of being followed / mentions of a gun / stays within the marvel guidelines of action + fighting

requested by @espinosaurusrexex

a/n: Hello everyone! ❤️ Thank you for being so patient with me on these requests! ❤️❤️ Life has been very hectic lately between starting an internship, being a senior in college, and my dog passing away...it's been a lot. 💔 I’ve mentioned this before, but many of the requests are close to being done. I only have a few final touches and edits to add, so look forward to that in these upcoming weeks! ✨

sequel drabble 🤎 // birthday bingo masterlist 🤎 // main masterlist 🤎

“ I’ll check out the other location tomorrow. For now, I’m calling it a night,” you hung up the call, the simple click relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. Most days as an agent were tedious, but today had been another extreme of it entirely. Your informant double-crossed you, causing your undercover identity to be potentially compromised.

You spent the majority of the day chasing dead-end leads as to where your informant had gone to hide away. The soles of your feet ached and the rainy chill of the night was bringing in no added comfort. You buttoned up your denim jacket, stopping the icy wind from seeping itself further into your chest.

You walked the unfamiliar streets of Kraków in the general direction of the hotel you had been stationed in. As exhausted as you were, it was your first time in Poland and it was small opportunities like this one where you could take in the beauty of the countries you worked in.

After your wasted efforts of the day, you weren’t going to waste a second of this.

You weren’t alone on your nightly stroll. Locals and tourists alike bustled about, enjoying what the city had to offer—despite the weather.

You passed by multiple local businesses and restaurants before stopping at one of the stalls near St. Mary’s Basilica. An elderly couple was selling braided bread and mulled wine. Your Polish needed some work, but you knew enough to keep up in conversation with the couple.

Their presence was the right kind of warmth for a night like this. They bickered in a way only old married couples did. The kind of back-and-forth friendly matches you can only have with the love of your life. Little simplistic arguments ending in tight hugs and peppered kisses.

They reminded you of the time you had loved so intensely to the point of considering—for the first time in your life—growing old with someone. You pushed the memories away, deciding there was no need to revisit ghosts from the past. You could do that at some other time.

You excused yourself, taking your bread and mulled wine, and continued your route in the opposite direction of where your hotel was located. The saltiness of the bread dissolved on your tongue while the mulled wine left you in delightful confusion as you tried to decipher the ingredients within it. There were hints of apple cider, cinnamon, and a citrusy fruit.

You decided to enjoy your treats and what you had left of this peaceful night while you still could.

In your field of work, being on high alert every second of an operation is crucial. In many instances, it could mean life or death for any of the parties involved. The best agents in the organization could detect danger from the most peculiar places.

You were one of them.

You realized you were being followed the moment you stepped into St.Mary’s Basilica. Within the shadows of the night, there was one in particular that stayed trained on you. Since the uncertainties arose over whether or not your undercover identity had been compromised, the person following you could be anyone.

As to not raise suspicion, you kept your pace the same and continued to savor your treats as if you were any other tourist. Internally, your alarms were ringing and you were trying to locate the best place to have an advantage over your pursuer, so you wouldn’t end up being cornered by them in case a confrontation occurred.

The rain was only but a drizzle now, and the moon was high in the sky. The more you walked the fewer people there were around you. Many of the businesses you had passed earlier were now closed and you realized it was likely you might end up in a position where you were left alone in the night with the mysterious stranger hot on your trail.

This stranger was now using the roofs of the buildings across the street to continue his pursuit of you. You had to admit that was clever of him and if you had been any other agent you might not have noticed.

Your only option now was to go on the offense before the man—you had concluded was a man from his broad silhouette—ever got a chance to.

You discarded the remnants of your Polish delicacies in a nearby trashcan before dashing over to the other street, underneath the building the stranger was standing on. You knew he could either maneuver his way to the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street or decide to meet you at the bottom.

You were hoping he would meet you at the bottom.

The building you had run to had an intricate pathway aligned with arches all across it. You used the columns of the arches to make your way to the side of the building where you would be able to get a better view of which direction the man would decide to go. If you used the shadows from the columns made by the city lights and the moon, you would be able to sneak up on the man and have the upper hand.

Of course, the gun hidden on the inside of your jacket would help with that as well.

You bent down and angled your body so you had a clear view of the street while still keeping yourself hidden. Adrenaline began to make its way through your body giving you the added energy you would need in the fight.

You concentrated on the noises around you, causing you to pick up on incoming footsteps. They were light, letting you know this person must be highly trained for them to know how to mask their steps. If it weren’t for the sporadic puddles on the ground from the rain, you might not have heard them.

You weren’t sure what organization you were dealing with, but you knew you had to be as careful and calculated as you could. Due to the possibility of your undercover identity being compromised, the person after you could be from one of many organizations you had crossed in the past.

The steps were inching closer, and yet, there was no sign of the man. You could have sworn you chose the best location to spot him, but it seems you were mistaken. Your only choice now was to concentrate on the direction his footsteps resounded from and pinpoint his location with that.

From the sound of it, he was just to the left of you and merely a few feet away. With every inching step he took, you realized it was now or never to act.

“ Don’t move any closer! Identify yourself!” You sprung up, pointing your gun directly at the man. He was using the shadows of the night to hide himself as he approached you, so it was difficult to distinguish his features from where you stood.

The man froze, his hands slowly raising to a peaceful stance, “ I figured I shouldn’t have snuck up on you, Y/n.” You faltered for a second at the sound of his voice and your name dropping from his lips. It was as familiar as a déjà vu was. In your heart, there was a memory of it and yet you couldn’t pinpoint when was the last time you had heard it.

Perhaps it might have been when he broke your heart.

Or maybe when you had broken his.

“Steve?” His name dropped from your lips in a whisper. A part of you thought you were losing it. Had you been so lonely these last couple of years that you were now projecting your last lover onto random strangers?

The man stepped into the light confirming what your heart already knew. The man who had been hiding in the shadows and following you was your ex-boyfriend Steve Rogers. Although, this Steve in front of you was foreign to you.

He had grown out his beard and his hair, which was now a darker shade of blonde than you remembered. From what you could see, his face and hands were adorned with new scars and scratches untouched by your hands. There was also a gloominess behind his blue eyes he couldn’t hide away.

He dawned on a black leather jacket as opposed to the brown leather one you were used to. You had borrowed that jacket many times in the past as it became a comfort to you whenever he was away on a mission. It always smelled of his sandalwood aftershave and the smoky bergamot cologne you had given him on the first Christmas you spent together.

It became his signature scent and you loved it.

However, the Steve in front of you resembled nothing of the Steve you once loved. How much had his life changed in the years since the two of you broke up? How much had it changed him?

“ Hey…it's been a while,” he spoke up cautiously, glancing over at the weapon in your hand before looking into your eyes. You lowered it slowly, feeling as though you were in a dream, “ Yeah, it has. Last I heard you were in big trouble with the United Nations. Technically, I should be arresting you right now.” You said the last part in a playful tone hoping to ease the tension between you.

The night seemed to have gotten colder ever since he stepped in front of you.

Thankfully, easing into things was the right call as a small smile appeared on his lips, “ Technically, you're right, but you would have to catch me first,” he pointed out.

“ Oh, that would definitely not be a problem,” you boasted.

“ Half of the Avengers tried and failed,” he informed you, holding back what looked like a somber yet smug expression.

“ Yeah, but I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve not even Tony would think of,” you stated confidently, placing your gun back into a pocket on the inside of your jacket. Now that you no longer needed it, you didn’t want it to hinder the pleasant mood that was now finding its place between you.

“ I’m sure you do,” he responded, a fond look adorning his features. You were sure you had a similar expression, as you ruminated on past memories of playful exchanges with Steve. Many ended in far more romantic exchanges than this conversation would.

Getting past what once was, you needed your curiosity satisfied,“ What brings you to Poland anyway? And why were you following me? I don’t know how they did it in the 1940s, but in modern times we use a thing called a cellphone when we want to contact an ex,” you teased.

He laughed at that, a sound you recognized all too well. It made you realize that although the Steve in front of you was different, you still knew him. Deep down he still had to be the man you had fallen in love with.

There was a conflict of emotions stirring within your heart as a result.

“ Okay, I get it. Like I said, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” he confessed before continuing, “ Those of us who didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords are on the run. We’ve been moving to a new city every few weeks. Right now we’ve been stationed in Kraków for two and are relocating to Tarnów next week. Sam told me you were on a C.I.A. mission here and I had to come see you before we left,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

You couldn’t blame him for coming to see you. At this point, you would have to hold yourself back from “bumping into him” in Tarnów.

“ Sam told you? How did he know?” You asked, still not seeing the full picture. Steve cleared his throat before speaking, “ Vision was a big help with that. Between him and Sam, they were able to rework an old laptop to pick up on different signals and monitor specific ones we chose. It was by chance he picked up on a phone call you were having with an agent named Clarke a few days ago,” he explained, causing your confusion to dissipate and in its place discomfort made a home.

Knowing that what Steve said was true, that meant that Sam and Steve had heard the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation you had with your mission partner Agent Clarke a few days ago.

Clarke had taken an interest in you ever since you were first partnered up on a mission a few months back. You never had taken a similar interest in him and always kept things professional. Unfortunately for you, this caused Clarke to think you were “playing hard to get” and this ensued a plethora of attempts to charm you.

His latest attempt was a few days ago where he insisted on your undercover identities being a newly wedded couple having their honeymoon across Europe. You politely declined and were grateful your mission supervisor disagreed with the idea as well. The conversation was overall uncomfortable and to outsiders it could have insinuated there was something going on between you and Clarke.

The outsiders in question here, unfortunately, were Steve, Sam, and anyone else in their group who had heard the conversation. You were mortified, to say the least.

“ Oh, you heard that? About that…,” you trailed off not knowing where to start.

Steve shook his head,“ You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. You moved on and you have every right to. This whole moving on thing, I just—I still feel like I’m stuck in time sometimes and I can’t help revisiting the past,” he stated sincerely, his eyes wandering to the ground. He frowned at it, searching for something else to say.

At the same time, his statements had brought you out of your embarrassment long enough to register what he had said.

“ Surely you’ve moved on?” You asked him, not comprehending if you had interpreted what he said correctly.

It took him a moment before he got the courage to lock eyes with you,“ Have you?”

You paused, not having a straight answer to his question. Before meeting him today to anyone else you would have said you had—even if deep down you knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

You broke up with him months before the whole Ultron disaster and since then you haven’t looked at another man with romantic intentions.

You couldn’t count that as moving on.

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You were still unsure of what to say. Your heart was jumping out of your chest trying to answer for you and the look he was giving you was making it impossible not to give in and let it. He was pleading with his eyes, a hopeful shimmer that maybe somewhere within you there were still feelings for him lying dormant waiting to be awakened.

His gaze made it difficult for you to think, so you averted his eyes and looked down at a slightly large puddle on the ground. It was the only thing separating the two of you, with both of your reflections lying inside of it. You stared at the reflections, hoping to collect your thoughts better this way.

You could see him shuffling uncomfortably through the reflection,“ I think a part of me always knew you had. I should’ve known when you didn’t respond to any of my letters,” he continued, taking your body language as confirmation you had moved on.

At his revelation, your eyes shot up and locked on him, “ You wrote me letters?”

He looked taken aback by your surprised expression, “ I did. Every month for a year after we broke up. There was a lot I still had left to say—and that I wanted to say to you. When I didn’t get a reply back I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me,” he admitted, his expression softening.

You were gutted at the mental image of Steve waiting nervously to hear back from you only to receive silence in return. You spiraled at the thought of what could have been if you had read just one of those letters. Truthfully, your breakup with Steve was unwanted on both ends. However, due to the pressure and demands both of your professions required of you, you grew apart.

For months, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of each other on the weekends before receiving your next mission or task. Evil didn’t stop, so the good guys couldn’t either—and the Avengers took up almost all of Steve’s time. The loneliness of the constant nights alone waiting for your boyfriend to come home became too much for you.

So much so, that you ended things when loneliness turned into resentment. There was only so much the mind could understand before the heart took over.

You boiled it down to right person, wrong time.

“ I never got them,” you finally spoke up, “ If I had, Steve, I promise I would have called you. Right after we broke up I was stationed in London for a year and I rented out my apartment to a young couple. They never told me of any letters,” you explained, feeling betrayed by fate and your tenants.

Steve gave a chuckle, one laced with disbelief at the situation, “ No, it's on me. Letters are kind of old school, aren’t they? I should’ve picked up the phone and called you.” He shouldered the responsibility, something only Steve would feel the need to do.

You disagreed, shaking your head at him,“ The phone works both ways, so it's on me too. And I like old school. There’s a charm to it you can’t find anywhere else.”

You hoped the deeper meaning of what you said would get across for Steve to understand.

It seems it did, as a comfortable silence fell between you. You stared at one another, searching for your past selves in each other's eyes. There were so many questions and things left unsaid that were waiting to be discussed.

You were eager for him to confess to you everything that was written in the letters and he was just as eager to hear your response to all those unanswered questions he had sent you more than a year ago.

As neither of you could decide who would get the conversation started, fate decided to intervene once more. However, fate this time went by the name of Sam and his little bird-like drone Redwing.

When you spotted it approaching you, your hand instinctively placed itself on top of the gun hiding on the inside of your jacket. Upon seeing your reaction, Steve bolted over to you and placed himself in front of you as protection. The action caused your heart to flutter.

As soon as Steve spotted Redwing, his guard went down.

“ Don’t worry about the drone, it’s Sam’s. I think that’s his way of telling me I need to be heading back,” he informed you, your guard dropping as well at the explanation.

“ I should be heading back too. I have a lot of investigating to do in the morning,” you pointed out.

“ Want me to walk you back?” Steve asked you in a way that gave you full control over the decision.

As much as you wanted him to, you had to decline, “ I want to say yes, but you can’t. The hotel I’m staying at is heavily monitored and you're on the run. It would be too risky. It’s safer for you and your group if you don’t go anywhere near it.” You were disappointed at the reality of the situation and from the look on Steve’s face so was he.

“ I figured, but I still wanted to ask,” he took a step back, making you realize how close you two had gotten when he rushed over to protect you. There was no longer a large puddle of water in between, and if you reached your hand out you would be able to touch him.

“ Steve, that old laptop can track down any signal right?”

“ From what I understood, yes. Why?”

“ Well you have mine now, so I’m counting on you to keep in touch,” you let him know before planting a quick goodbye kiss on his cheek. His beard was scratchy against your lips, but you were surprised to find out you didn’t mind it.

He was stunned for a moment before a grin quickly replaced it.

“ I will. I promise,” the sincerity in his tone and expression was all you needed to walk away knowing the story wouldn’t end there.

“ Goodnight, Steve.”

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

How lovely it was to hear those words again.

The next day a package was delivered to your hotel room containing a burner phone inside and a note that read:

I always keep my promises. :)

The phone contained only one number on the contact list you soon found out belonged to Steve. Throughout the course of the next two weeks in Poland, you spent every night talking on the phone with him.

You both poured your heart out to one another. Your losses, your fears, your hopes, and any other topic that came to mind. There was so much to catch the other up on that there were never enough hours in the night to get through it all.

With every conversation, the connection you once had was slowly building itself again. A little over two years had gone by since your breakup and the people you had become since then were getting to know each other once more.

Maybe now the timing was finally right.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fluff #birthday bingo request #steve rogers imagine

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sarahwroteathing · 5 months

Note

Stockings, fluff, Steve Rogers

You were half-frozen and half overheated by the time you reached Steve’s apartment, bundled to high heaven in two shirts, two sweaters, a scarf wrapped all the way up to your nose, a puffy coat, and a hat that almost covered your eyes entirely. You knew you looked ridiculous, but the look Steve gave you when he answered the door, amused but undeniably endeared, made it hard to mind so much. While you tossed your hat onto the small table by the door, he hooked a finger in your scarf, tugging it down just enough to press a smiling kiss to your lips.

“Excuse me, pal. At least take my coat first,” you said, laughing as you followed his defensive point to the mistletoe he had tacked over the doorway.

“You decorated!”

“I did!” he said, looking extraordinarily proud of himself as he helped you out of your coat and one of your sweaters.

“You do realize you’ll be giving out a lot of free kisses with that mistletoe placement though, don’t you? The poor mailman is going to fall in love with you.”

Steve snorted, and you couldn’t help but break into giggles thinking of his elderly mailman with his silver braid and curly mustache.

“I just hung it up when you said you were on your way. I can move it.”

You smiled, finally getting your wet bootlaces untangled and wiggling free of the heavy snow boots with a relieved sigh. Finally feeling human again, you looked up at Steve, who was leaning against the wall watching you with a little smile on his face like he’d be perfectly content to stare at you all evening.

“Hi,” you said, dragging him away from the wall for a long hug, snuggling your face against his soft, green sweater.

“Hi,” he whispered back, giving you a gentle squeeze until there was no space between you at all.

“Wanna show me your decorations?”

“Mm… One more minute?”

“Retirement is making you soft, Rogers,” you laughed.

“Yeah. I’m okay with it.”

When Steve was satisfied, he let you go with a kiss to the forehead, taking your hand to lead you farther into the apartment.

It was cute, what he’d done to the place. Understated but cozy. There were extra blankets on the couch, a maroon chenille and a deep green wool. A neat row of red votive candles sat on the coffee table, and a surprisingly tall Christmas tree was tucked into the corner, more garland and lights than ornaments. But it was what hung from the two little hooks on the wall that made you press your hand over your mouth to hide a smile.

“What?” Steve asked, having spent the last few moments looking at you while you looked over the living room.

“Nothing! It looks lovely. Very cozy!”

But when you walked over to sit on the couch, he followed you with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Did I leave a price tag on something?”

“Not that I can see.”

Steve grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch just as you reached for it, holding it behind his back.

“No soft new blanket for you until you tell me.”

You bit your lip, glancing again at the socks hanging from the wall by the loop of ribbon safety pinned to the top.

“I just um… Did you hang socks on the wall?”

Steve followed your gaze.

“Yeah? But they’re the nice fluffy ones you like. They’re not… running socks or something.”

“Okay…” you said with an endeared smile. “Just asking.”

“People don’t do that anymore, huh?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile.

“I’m sure some people do! Most probably get the stockings they sell in stores though. They’re bigger and easier to put stuff in. But I remember we used knit socks one year when I was a kid! We had just moved and didn’t know where the Christmas stuff had ended up.”

“One year when I was about… ten, maybe? Ma had a few dresses that needed to be retired. It was getting too obvious how many times she’d had to mend them, I guess. So she had me cut them up, and we used the fabric to sew stockings. They kinda looked like quilts.”

He smiled at the memory, and you squeezed his hand.

“I love that.”

“I can go buy some stockings tomorrow. You want to come? Pick out your own?”

“Absolutely not. Leave the socks. They’re cute,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Just like you.”

“Cute?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhmm. And charming. Also like you.” You gave him another kiss.

He shook his head at you, but he was smiling now.

“And if you want…” you started hesitantly. “I mean, I have a few old shirts and things that could be retired. If you wanted to maybe make some little quilt stockings together. But I don’t want to barge into an old family memory so -”

You didn’t get to finish your overthinking spiral because Steve took your face between his hands and silenced you with a warm and enthusiastic kiss.

“Oh!”

“I love that idea,” he said, leaving you with one, two, three more soft little kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine

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the-marvelclub · 3 months

Text

While you were sleeping | Bucky Barnes

Part 3.

read part 2 here series masterlist

Summary: Reader is in love with the mysterious man who goes every week to the bar where she works. When one night she witnesses a fight that leaves the man in a coma and he´s taken to the hospital, she is mistaken for his fiancée, unaware that the mysterious man is Steve Rogers himself. With no family and after losing everything in The Blip, reader becomes captivated with Steve's friends and their unconditional love for her that she can't bring herself to tell the truth. Things get complicated when she finds herself falling for Steve's best friend, Bucky.

Taglist: @rosecentury @ozwriterchick

"So do you have a date for the wedding yet?" you choked on the wine you were drinking, Wanda's question taking you by surprise. You were now sitting, eating the food in front of you. You had been chatting happily for the last 30 minutes, surprised by how easy it was to talk to them and not bring up your relationship (or lack there of) with Steve, well, until now.

"Actually, we haven't talked about it" you replied leaving the wine glass on the table, your voice finally coming back to you. Wanda nodded seemingly satisfied with your vague answer and continued eating next to you.

You focused your eyes on the food looking for the right way to continue the conversation. The determination to tell them the truth that you had hours before seemed to disappear. It had been years since you had felt part of something. Sure, you had your apartment and your job, Joe was the closest thing you had to a friend, if you could call him that. But that was it. The events after the blip changed everyone including you, people close themselves off, and although many had returned the world was different, everyone could tell. But for this moment, being there felt right.

"I always thought he'd end up with Sharon" Sam commented, talking more to himself than anything else.

Who is Sharon?

Natasha threw him a pea which caused Sam to let out a squeal of protest. "Well, he obviously didn’t” she replied giving him a murderous look before returning to you “I'm glad it was you."

"What I MEANT is that I'm surprised there still women out there who are romantically interested in the elderly." He defended himself giving you wink.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

"Who knows, maybe there's still hope for you after all, Buck." Tony said, standing on the bar next to the table pouring himself some whiskey. The comment causing Bucky to roll his eyes but he didn't look angry.

"I've never had a problem in that department." he stated, not seeming to be bothered by this conversation at all.

The previous car ride with Bucky from Steve’s apartment seemed to last an eternity. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you he took the long way home, something about him screamed ‘disbelief’. Of course he used the moment to asked you a lot of questions about your supposed relationship with his best friend, you knew he was probably taking mental notes of every lie that came out of your mouth, you tried your best to do the same hoping it wouldn't all come back to bite you in the ass. You knew what he was good at, you had never been one of those people who idolized the avengers, not before, not during or even after the blip, you knew who they were from the news or from what your co-workers talked about. But you certainly knew what Bucky Barnes was good at, you had read about the winter soldier in a history book you had been flipping through while waiting for your favorite coffee order.

Steve Rogers' best friend, womanizer, his supposed death, what he been through and his relationship with the others avengers. You'd be lying if you said you didn’t find him somewhat intriguing.

“Well, we can all agree that 4 months is pretty fast for an engagement" Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He pushed his now empty plate aside and leaned back against the chair, his chest seemed to rise as he crossed his arms over it and a small, almost unnoticeable, smile crossed his face. "I bet you know a lot about him" He cocked his head to the side slightly and looked at you "like for example, his favorite movie”.

You knew it wasn't just a statement, he was asking you. Of course he was his best friend but apparently he hadn't seen Steve either for the last two years. People change. Well if that's the way he wanted to play it, you were going to use your cards right.

"He doesn't like watching TV" you said with confidence mimicking his posture and crossing your arms over your chest. For the first time since you ran into him, you held his gaze for more than just a couple of seconds. If you wanted him to believe you, you had to play the part.

"Favorite musician?" He asked quickly ignoring your previous reply. If Bucky was being honest with himself, he liked the nervous look you’d have on your face every time he looked at you, but this time he couldn't see anything but your defiant stare.

"Marvin Gaye" You mentally went over everything that was on Steve's nightstand when you went to pick up his clothes, remembering the old cds he had "and the Ramones."

"Book?"

"1776"

"What are you doing, James?" Nat’s stern voice next to you made you look away from him, for a moment you had forgotten they were there, "what is this about?"

"Nothing, nothing, just curious" He simply replied before getting up and heading to the bar for another drink. You let out a sigh of relief as the others continued their chatting. You were about to take your last sip of wine when you noticed Wanda's gaze fixed on you, you smiled softly at her and returned your attention to the food in front of you.

"And what do your parents think about him?" Tony said after a while, the food was long gone and now everyone was getting more drinks "I bet they're very happy for you."

You gulped grabbing your dirty plates taking them to the dishwasher distracting yourself from the question.

“They passed away” you replied quietly "I never knew my mother and my father died of cancer one year after I disappeared on the blip, so I never saw him again. It’s just me”.

“Oh” Tony looked at you apologetically “I’m sorry”.

“It was a long time ago” you brushed it off, not trying to make the evening uncomfortable. You close the dishwasher and turn to Nat who was going to take you to see Steve. Before you left the room you caught Bucky’s stare, only this time this one was soft, almost kind.

——

Natasha had taken you to see Steve, who remained in the same state, if you didn't know what was really happening to him, you would think he was just sleeping. His cheeks were still full of color. You'd been able to notice the little details that adorned his face, and yet Joe's voice wouldn't leave your head, he really look a lot like Ryan. According to what you had been told, it was all a matter of waiting, he was a super human after all.

An hour later, Bucky had offered to drive you back to your apartment. This time the ride was shorter, if he wanted to investigate further about his suspicions about you, he didn't. He kept quiet for the entire ride. Maybe he was just tired or maybe finding out about your loss had made him identify with you, if only for a moment.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" he finally spoke, ending the comfortable silence that had formed between you two since you left the compound. You were walking down the small hallway in your building.

His kind tone had taken you by surprise "Yes, everyone was very friendly, thank you". You replied pulling your keys out of your bag, the door to your apartment in front of you.

He let out a big sigh as he leaned against the wall next to it, hands in his pockets, while he waited for you to enter. He almost seemed shy, nothing like the Bucky you had met hours earlier.

"Look, I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time" he finally said closing his eyes for a moment before turning to look at you.

You stopped.

"Oh, don’t worr-"

"The truth is that it’s been a long time since Steve told me anything really, it's not your fault" he interrupted you and by the way his voice failed you noticed he was having a hard time talking about it. You could feel the horrible sense of guilt flooding through your body. You didn't want him to feel bad. "I'm glad you two had each other and you were taking care of him." Well, now you really felt guilty. The imposter syndrome was really kicking this time. You gave him a half smile entering your apartment.

"I didn't tell you before but… thank you for saving his life, not everyone would have been brave enough to do what you did." You turned to him, he was leaning against the door frame looking at you only this time you didn’t feel strained with his blue eyes. "I can see why he’s attracted to you” he simply said giving you one final look before turning and walking away. If he only knew.

"Goodnight, Bucky" you whispered watching him go, but this time he didn’t hear you.

A small continuous rustling sound made you wake up from your sleep. Opening your eyes to a completely dark room, you were about to reach out to turn on the lamp at the side of your bed when a cold material covered your mouth and the smell of leather filled your senses.

What seemed like a figure of a man was on top of you, his gloved hand was over your mouth trying to restrain you.

Terror began to invade your body. Oh god, he’s going to hurt me. You twisted and pulled your arms trying to free yourself but he was much stronger than you. He didn’t budge an inch. Feeling the adrenaline rush through your body, you didn't even realize that you had managed to let go of your arm, without thinking you dug your fingers into his eyeballs, and your knee hit his groin, knocking his breath out of him and making his grip weaken for a moment. You jumped out of bed, turning on the lamp and bringing it to the floor along with you as the man pounced on you again.

The room filled with the dim yellow light and that's when you saw him; an unknown man with black hair and tan skin loomed over you, he was dressed just like the men of the alley. You let out a high pitched scream before the man slammed your head hard against the floor.

Your vision blurred and a high pitched noise rang in your ears leaving you dazed. Before you knew it, the man was no longer on top of you but lying on your side, his face was in pain and a metal arm was around his neck.

Bucky.

That’s all you remember before you pass out.

#bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel blog #marvel fic

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gaysindistress · 11 months

Text

Dial Drunk - part 2 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst and the feels oh and Peggy Carter slander

Word count: 2.1k words

Master list

Fine line 1 & Cocaine Jesus 3

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom

a/n: I love a good song fic. Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan sponsors this fic so I highly suggest you listen to it.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Son, is there someone I can call for you?” the Sheriff asks while half dragging and carrying a drunk Steve into the station. Under the dead weight of the mafia boss, the elderly Sheriff struggles to get them inside as the rain pelts them so hard, he’s expecting there to be bruises on both of them.

Steve mumbles something as his head lolls to the side but the other man cannot make out a single word or number for that matter. At the door, he waves to his deputies to him with the door and he all but drops Steve onto his younger deputies.

“Son, I don’t know your name. Where is your wallet or your phone?”

Steve shoves his hand into his coat pocket which sends all of them into high alert but it’s all false as he dumps the asked for items onto a desk. The Sheriff gets to work to figure out his name and find an emergency contact or anything at all that might be helpful.

“Alright, Mr. Rogers,” he announces as he types away at a computer, no doubt pulling up Steve’s criminal record as well as his contacts, “Should I call a Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers? Is that still current?”

Steve scoffs at the name as he falls into a seat next to the Sheriff, “My own wife hates me.”

A deputy gives the Sheriff a look but he ignores it and calls the number nonetheless. Steve slumps back into the hard chair and drops his head back in attempts of sleeping off the horrendous hangover he’s going to have. The phone rings and rings, leaving him with just the dial tone as Peggy ignores the call. They try again but nothing happens. She ignores the call. They try a third time and finally she answers.

“Hello?” her accented voice wakes Steve.

“Hi is this Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers?”

She snorts, “Not anymore. If this is about Steve, call someone else. I don’t care”

The dial tone replaces her voice and all of the officers look at each other in disbelief.

“Did… Did she just hang up?” the same deputy asks.

The sheriff clears his throat and brushes over his thick gray mustache as he thinks about what to do next.

“I told you she hates me,” Steve pipes up, “Wasted your time.”

“Is there anyone else we can call?”

He shrugs, “She won’t answer either.”

Behind them two deputies are whispering to each other about how wrong it was of Peggy to hang up but quickly stop when the Sheriff gives them a pointed look.

“Maybe SHE will answer. What’s her name and number?” He extends the phone out to Steve who drops it and has to slowly reach down to pick it up. It takes him longer than usual to open it and find the number of the woman whose house he practically ran from. After he left Y/N’s house, he found the nearest bar and drank the place out of anything that would numb the rejection pain. For ten years, he dreamed of nothing but seeing his girl again and when he finally did, his past decisions ruined any chance of a relationship with her again. For ten years, he resented Peggy, his father, his mother even and himself for not fighting harder for Y/N. For ten years, he regretted everything he had done and prayed that somehow he could go back in time to just be with her.

“Y/N hates me too.”

Still the sheriff dials the number and hopes that this mystery woman will answer the phone. It rings five times and they’re all beginning to think that this will be a repeat of the first call but she does answer.

Her voice is raw from crying but she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi ma'am, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well ma’am, this is the Kings County sheriff department. I’m Sheriff Anderson. I have Steve Rogers here and he’s going to be held overnight in the drunk tank or you can come pick him up.”

“Shit, okay. Um…” there’s a long pause but they can hear her shuffling around, “I can be there in 45 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yes of course ma’am. We appreciate you answering the phone so late and coming right away.”

“Uh… yeah no problem I guess,” she mumbles something else but Steve doesn’t catch it.

Anderson motions to his deputies and has them take Steve to a cell while he waits. He’s half asleep and even heavier than before as they haul him into his own cell. Next to him is another lonely drunk stranger who was ignored and left to figure their shit out alone. Regardless he can’t be bothered to care and he shucks off his overcoat to use it as a pillow. Crossing his arms over his chest and his legs over each other, he settles into a short nap while he waits for Y/N. A part of him isn’t even sure that she is actually coming and he’s starting to convince himself that she never answered the door in the first place. She’s not coming to take him home…there's no home where they live together. There is no place where they love and support each other because he destroyed that when he married Peggy. Tears begin to grow heavy on his eyes but he won’t allow himself to cry over the past no matter how recent it might be.

He pulls his arms tighter across himself and rolls over so that his back faces outwards. With his face hidden, the tears start to fall against his will and he does nothing to stop them even though just moments ago he vowed that the past wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t try to wipe them and lets the pain metastasize in his body, growing a tumor of emotions that can’t be cured by anything.

Time slips away from him as the memories and hurt wash over him. Anderson clears his throat to get Steve’s attention and starts to unlock the cell’s door.

“We took his keys so you can drive it home if you didn’t bring your own car,” Anderson says to Y/N.

She smiles and nods, taking the keys from him and clutching them as she stares at the sad excuse of a man laying on the bed. Steve wipes at his eyes and groans as he slides off of the hard jail bed. Shaking out his pillow coat, he puts it on before making eye contact with her. She sighes at him and thanks Anderson for all that he’s done even though it’s not procedure. When Steve stands, he sways and she’s quick to catch him, waving off Anderson who offers to take him. They don’t say anything to each other as she acts as his crutch and walk towards his car. She fumbles with the keys and drops them.

“Lean on the car,” she tells him as she bends down to pick them up, “Do you need my help getting in?”

He furrows his brow like a toddler, “No I can do it myself.”

Shaking her head at him, she unlocks the car and lets him struggle to fold his large body into the passenger side. She slides into the driver’s side and takes a deep breath. Never again did she think that she would dealing with Steve let alone driving his car as he’s almost black out drunk in the passagner seat.

He mumbles something along the lines of “It’s a remote start.”

Y/N hums her understanding and finds the button. It blinks to life and heavy metal music greets them at an unbearable volume. He whimpers at the noise and slams his hand onto the power button to turn it off as quick as he can. Satisfied that the offending noise has stopped, he curls into himself against the window and rests his head on the cool glass.

“Did you put your seat belt on?”

He answers by puling the belt over himself and clicking it into place.

She backs out of the spot and leaves the Sheriff’s station behind. Silence fills the space around them as the street lights and porch lights pass through the window. The lights splash across her face and unbeknownst to her, Steve is stealing glances at her through the window’s reflection. What little he can see of her breaks his heart even more as he can see the fatigue and hurt tense in her features. Her hair, usually styled and pristine, has been hastily clipped up with a claw clip that’s holding on for dear life. Under the long winter coat she’s wearing is just a pair of pj pants and a white crop top. She’s not even really wearing shoes but instead a pair of worn down clogs that should only be worn inside. Seeing how vulnerable she is, he can’t help himself grow protective and upset that she left in such a hurry.

“I hope you drove,” slips out albeit slurred.

“What?” she asks, quickly looking over at him.

“I said I hope you drove.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Do you see what you’re wearing?”

She blinks and scoffs at him, “I just picked your drunk ass up at 2 am and you want to lecture me about my clothing choices.”

“That’s not what I….”

She cuts him off, “Stop. You’re sleeping on the couch and I expect you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Honey.”

“Don’t. I already made myself clear earlier; I want nothing to do with you. I should’ve left you at the stupid station,” she mumbles the last part to herself but he still hears it and sews his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride back to her house is quiet aside from the normal noise of the car and the city.

She wants to regret hurting him with her words but she can’t find it in herself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the petty side of her that strives to inflict as much pain as she can onto him. He did deserve it after all and he’s not protesting at least out loud.

Internally he wants to confess his undying love for her but he knows she won’t care and it won’t change her mind. He does deserve all of her hate and anger. It’s all just no matter how harsh it might be.

Steve keeps stealing glances of her in his window’s reflection and accepts the heartache it induces. Her house comes into view and he can feel her relax when it does. She pauses before fully pulling it and has the garage door open to hide his car from sight in it.

Once inside, she turns it off and waits for the door to shut completely before getting out. Steve watches as she kicks her shoes off and takes off her coat, leaving her in her thin pjs. He climbs out and does the same as her. Following her inside, she instructs him to sit at the island like before while she goes to get him blankets and pillows.

His eyes find the Polaroid again and the memories replay again. The sound of Y/N dropping a stack of bedding brings him around again.

“Here’s a couple blankets and a pillow. Don’t worry about folding them, I'll have to wash them.”

She turns to leave but he calls out softly and stops her, “thank you.”

Her hand rests on the wall beside her and she drops her head to rest on it.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I want you back. I want YOU.”

She faces him again, “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to make a reappearance and magically everything goes back to how it was.”

Steve pushes off and is before her in a few short strides. He gently holds her face in his warm hands and refuses to let go even though she tugs lightly at his wrists.

“Give me another chance. Please honey, just one more chance,” he begs her as he touches his forehead to hers. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed and her breathing grows shallow, hot breath brushing against his face.

He nudges her head back and ghosts his lips over hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she doesn’t, he captures her lips in a slow and intimate kiss. Everything he’s felt over the last 10 years is flooding her as he moves his lips over hers. Every promise he’s made to himself in her name is conveyed as he sighed against her lips.

She’s the first to pull away and is shaking her head when she does so.

“No.”

#mob au #mafia! steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers x reader #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fine line steve rogers #steve x reader #Steve rogers #marvel imagine #mafia au

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penny00dreadful · 6 months

Text

Cat and Mouse - Spy AU - Part 1

AO3

18th April 2015

Steve pulled the trigger, barely even paying attention as the bullet tore through the head of his target. He was just so ready to go home, god this week had been boring.

His target was some bank executive that had started to funnel funds towards various criminal enterprises, helping those criminal families gain more power and Steve had been contracted to weed that rot out, right at the root.

The Hagans, Kline and Johnson families would probably still find ways to rise up in the ranks but it had been kneecapped now, making things more difficult for them.

They’d never climb to the heights of the Creel Syndicate anyway.

Steve was pretty sure no one could.

Henry Creel, legendary crime lord that he was, had somehow managed to cultivate a culture of fear and respect amongst even the lowest of street drug dealers.

Not to mention the borderline mythical assassin he was rumoured to have at his side. No one knew who they were, no one even knew if they existed. Some claimed the assassin was just some boogeyman story cooked up by Creel to keep his workers in line and Steve wouldn’t put it past him. The guy was creative.

And some things that had been attributed to this assassin were downright impossible so… They were probably made up.

This mythical boogeyman had some kind of title as well but Steve had never really paid much attention to the rumours and the ghosts floating around the underworld he was a part of.

Lies were practically currency to them so he’d have to see it to believe it.

Whoever ended up working on the Creel case was going to have their fucking work cut out for them.

Holstering his weapon, Steve snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves and he knelt beside his dead mark, slowly leaking blood and brains from the hole at the back of his head.

Steve fished around inside the guy’s pockets, locating his wallet. There was a family photo in there, library card, organ donor card, an obscene amount of credit cards and a loyalty card for the strip club across town.

Since when did strip clubs do loyalty cards?

Whatever. Steve located his driver's licence and pulled it out.

“Hm.” Steve tilted his head, reading the name from the laminated card. “Sorry, Peter. It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

He tucked the licence back into the guy's wallet, returning it to his pocket.

It only took three minutes for Steve to stage the scene, breaking into the guy's gun safe, planting the weapon just next to his hand, like it had flown out of his grip when he pulled the trigger.

He slipped out into the hallway of the high rise apartment building, removing his gloves and stuffing them into his pocket, pushing his hair back from his face and coming to a stop in front of the elevator.

The doors opened and an elderly lady with a yappy dog gave him the suspicious eye, no doubt not recognising him from this floor but as Steve took a step back with his most charming smile and a gentlemanly gesture, motioning her out of the elevator she smiled back and he knew he was in the clear.

He got back down to the lobby and through the front door, onto the streets with no issue, allowing himself to get lost in the crowd.

He reached up to his ear, flicking a small switch on the back of his ‘hearing aid’, allowing Robin to hear him, rather than just monitor his location and vitals.

“Okay, I’m out. You can stop looping the cameras.”

“Roger that, dingus.” Robin was probably saluting him right now from behind her desk, sounding like she was speaking in his head.

It had taken a long time for him to get used to it, hearing Robin, but still being able to hear everything around him at the same time.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Be nicer to me.”

“You say that to me every time, and every time I say no. Job went easy enough?”

“Yeah, practically childsplay.”

Steve kept his eyes open, never quite able to switch the part of his brain off that was waiting for the next hit from around a corner, a knife in the gut or a bullet in the shoulder.

He’d already managed to walk a few blocks, trying to put as much space between himself and his completed job as he could without moving too fast.

The crowd around him was both safety giving and dangerous.

Easy to disappear into but easy for someone to sneak up on him unseen.

Speaking of…

There was a figure shadowing him, had been shadowing him for a few minutes.

It could be nothing.

It could be some guy walking the same route as him.

But it wasn’t.

Every time Steve caught sight of him in his periphery or through the reflection of a store window, the guy had his eyes on him.

Locked on him, like he couldn’t afford to lose him, but Steve wasn’t worried.

The guy was weedy, probably weighed 140 pounds soaking wet.

The large leather jacket and the denim vest made him look bulkier than he was and he'd nearly tripped over his own shoelaces twice trying to keep up.

Steve could tell when people were dangerous. It was in the way they held themselves. The way they walked. The way they looked at those around them. How they held their hands at rest.

This guy was none of those things.

He might dress mean and scary but he was as delicate as a flower petal on the inside, Steve could tell.

So he wasn't exactly worried he was about to be shoved into a black van or choked out.

At least not this time around.

He was probably just going to be pickpocketed.

He recognised the look on the guy's face.

Desperate.

A panicky kind of desperate.

Like if the guy didn’t get some money into his hand immediately, the hounds of hell were gonna be on his ass. Probably break his kneecaps for good measure.

He could just be looking for money for a fix, Steve tried to reason with himself. He certainly had the eye bags, the pale waxy skin, the skinny frame that told that kind of story.

But even from as far away as he was, Steve knew that wasn’t the case.

Though he couldn’t see him clearly, he could tell his eyes were bright.

Alive and clear and piercing and active.

Not the hazy, cloudy, bloodshot gaze of someone coming down from their high or going through withdrawal.

Steve guessed he was some kind of dealer.

Street level, considering how he tried to look scary but wasn’t really.

Any higher up than street level and he would have held a certain amount of danger around himself. He would have had to, to survive after all.

So what had made him so desperate and what about Steve had caught his gaze?

Steve glanced down at himself, to his pristine polo, light wash vintage levi’s and spotless sneakers.

Ah.

Well that would be it.

Steve looked like he came from money. Especially walking through this part of the city.

And like… the guy’s guess wasn’t wrong.

Steve did come from money. But he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his parents or their money since he was eighteen years old, nine years ago.

Any money Steve had now was his own. Being a spy paid really well, as it turned out.

But the desperation radiating off this guy, even as far back in the crowd as he was, was making him sloppy. A regular civilian would know they were being followed at this stage, never mind Steve Harrington who’d been trained to within an inch of his life for this.

He could enter a room he’d never been in before and immediately know the most effective route for escape. He could look at a lineup of randomly selected people and know straight away who was the most dangerous in hand to hand combat and who would be most likely to have a weapon on them.

Steve could snap this guy in half over his knee probably without breaking a sweat.

Even still he felt a little bad.

He needed to talk it out. Needed someone to confirm for him he wasn’t going crazy.

"Someone's on my tail, Birdie." Steve muttered, flipping the switch on his hearing aid communicator again.

"Okay,” He could almost picture her nodding. “Gimme a description, I'll see if I can find them."

"No, it’s not an enemy or anything. I don't even think it's something I need to be worried about, honestly. Just some bottom of the totem pole dealer. Nicotine stains on his fingers, cigarette burns on his clothes. And Jesus Christ has he ever even heard of conditioner? And his eyes are huge.”

“Do you think he’s on something?”

“No.” He kept his eyes forward and continued to smoothly weave his way through the crowd. “But he is pale. Gaunt. His denim jacket looks pretty ratty. It’s been repaired multiple times. By hand. And he definitely hasn't eaten in a while. I think he’s probably gonna try to steal my wallet to stop his boss from breaking his legs."

“You don’t think that maybe he’s just hungry?”

Steve shook his head. “No. He looks pretty desperate but not that kind.” He frowned again, almost muttering. “Scared desperate.”

Robin sighed. "Steven."

"What?"

"Don't do it, babe."

"Why shouldn't I help the guy out?” Steve was already pulling his wallet out while ruffling his hair.

Misdirection.

“I can part with $20. Stick it in my jacket pocket, loose. Make it just obvious enough and easy to take. What's the big issue?"

"You're a bleeding heart, that's the issue."

"Yeah, well. He clearly needs it more than I do."

"Is he cute?" She asked in a teasing tone, making it clear she thought he wasn’t just a bleeding heart, he was a horny bleeding heart who could be swayed by a pretty face.

Which…

Didn’t need to be pointed out.

"...No."

"Wow, decorated Special Operative Steven J. Harrington everyone.” He could almost hear her waving her hands around. “Infiltrator, martial combatant and, apparently, a master liar. On his way to recruit another wayward stray."

"Oh, fuck off. Why not spit out my whole government name, that definitely won't put me in danger."

"You're wearing a bone conduction audio transmitting ‘hearing aid’, I'm literally in your head-”

“You’re not in my head, you’re in my cochlea.”

“Which is in your head, dingus. No one can hear me and it's a secure line. You, however, can be overheard so don't sell me down the river."

"Well then, you better be nicer to me."

“Never.”

Something bumped against his elbow and he was suddenly, painfully aware of a body behind him, right up in his space.

He didn’t even think before he lashed out behind him, snatching the figure's wrist in a vice-like grip, spinning the two of them into a nearby alleyway and pinning the stranger against the wall.

“Woah, man.”

Oh.

It was just the guy who’d been following him.

He was staring at Steve with wide, deep, brown eyes, shaking his head.

He looked fucking terrified.

“I- I don’t want any trouble, I swear.”

Steve took a breath before dropping the guy’s wrist like it had burned him, taking a step back.

The guy's eyes were flicking nervously over Steve’s face, waiting for him to strike probably, before his gaze settled just to the left of Steve’s head.

He was looking at his hearing aid, but Steve pretended not to know that, lifting his hand to his ear in confusion and allowing him to subtly flip the switch off so Robin couldn’t hear anything anymore.

“Try not to fall on his dick.” She muttered at him when she heard the click.

But he could hear her, like always.

Steve rolled his eyes, making sure it was aimed at the guy, acting like his exasperation was because he just noticed the hearing aid.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly gonna feel bad because of this?” Steve gestured at it.

The guy shook his head, still plastered up against the wall as though he wanted to melt into it, trying to put even more distance between them.

“Relax, man. I’m not gonna attack you, or whatever.” He crossed his arms over his chest, setting up another barrier between them to try and put the guy at ease.

He didn’t think it was working very well.

The guy in front of him looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. The same height as Steve but built much smaller, slender and delicate looking despite the heavy boots and chains and tattoos Steve could see peeking out under the neck of his shirt and spreading over his hands and fingers.

His hair was a curly nightmare, clearly needing an introduction to some conditioner and probably brushed with a regular hairbrush like a heathen, but aside from that the guy was…

Well, he was gorgeous.

His mouth was full and plump and parted ever so slightly in fear. His eyes were as huge as Steve thought they were at first glance, deep and brown and warm. His face was slim and soft looking, with laugh lines cutting down on either side of his mouth and a hint of scraggly stubble that was putting Steve in emotional danger.

Steve could probably throw him over his shoulder with ease.

Maybe that wasn’t the most helpful thing to be thinking right now.

“Right, right, yeah.” The guy nodded again. “You’re not gonna attack me. You just dragged me into an alleyway for a friendly chat.”

“And you just stuck your hand in my pocket for completely innocent reasons.”

The guy blinked at him, those big eyes somehow getting bigger before growing mischievous, despite the clear nervousness still radiating off of him.

“You planted it there.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, his eyebrows high on his head.

“You saw that?”

“Was I not supposed to?” He squeaked, like Steve was gonna kill him just for pointing it out. “It was kind of obvious.”

Interesting. Maybe he’d underestimated him.

“It shouldn’t have been.”

“Really?” The guy gave him a playful grimace. “Then I don’t know what to tell you. I saw it from a mile off.”

Steve’s mouth tugged into a reluctant smile and he ducked his head a little to hide it, leaning back against the opposite wall.

“What’s your name?”

“Wh-” The guy paused, shaking his head, bewildered. “What’s happening right now?”

“I’m asking you your name.”

“Yeah, I got that part sweetheart, but why the hell are you doing that?”

Sweetheart was sneered out but it still got the colour rising up Steve’s neck.

“I don’t know, to help you chill out a little bit or something. Fuck. I’m sorry I dragged you back here, I think I was just going off of… fight or flight or something.”

“Great, great. You be fight, I’ll be flight.”

Steve couldn’t help the light chuckle that came out at that and was taken momentarily off guard by the small smile it brought to the guy's face.

Pretty. He’s so fucking pretty.

Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the $20 he’d originally stashed, holding it out between his index and middle finger.

The guy eyed it before flicking his gaze back up to Steve.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting in exchange for that but I’m not that cheap. Even for a face as nice as yours.”

“What?” Steve scrunching his eyebrows in confusion before realisation dawned on him. “Dude. I’m not asking you to blow me for twenty fucking dollars. Christ.”

The guy hummed, but snatched the bill up anyway. Steve could just make out the word inked across his knuckles, mors. The calluses on the tips of his fingers brushed Steve’s skin, telling a story of years playing a string instrument.

Based on the position and angle, it could have been guitar or bass, but it could have also been cello or violin.

The look would suggest guitar or bass but classical instrumentalists were always dark horses, never looking like how they’d be expected to look.

Steve would need to see his other hand to confirm if there was any healed damage on his thumb, indicating years of holding a bow and to see what he had inked over the fingers there.

Not that he was interested.

He was staring at the guy's hand for too long, the tendons standing proud under his skin and Steve only snapped back to himself when the guy tucked the bill away into his back pocket.

“I would say I have more dignity than that but a blowjob is definitely not the worst thing I’ve ever done in an alleyway. But yeah. Not for twenty dollars.”

Steve could feel the blush rise up higher on his neck and if the expression on the guy's face was anything to go by, it was visible now over the collar of his polo.

“You alright there, sweetheart? You seem a little flustered.”

“Steve.” He supplied, clearing his throat and trying to push the redness back down. “My name is Steve.”

The guy hummed again with a grin. “Think I prefer ‘sweetheart’.”

“And you?”

“I’m partial to ‘baby’ myself.”

Steve uncrossed his arms with a shake of his head, unable to hide his smile while putting his hands on his hips.

“What’s your name,” he asked, before deciding to add on “baby?” At the end, with a tilt to his head, making his hair fall into his eyes and giving the guy, what Robin called, his puppy dog look.

The guy bit down on his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth ticking up and his eyes seeming to turn darker the longer he paused. “Eddie.”

“Eddie suits you.”

“I should hope so.” Eddie shrugged. “It’s the only name I got.”

“Baby suits you too.”

His eyes travelled up and down Steve’s body, leaving fire in their wake.

“Gotta say sweetheart, this is not how I thought this was gonna go when you grabbed me. Thought you were gonna smash my face in.”

Steve frowned. “I wouldn’t do that.” He dragged his eyes over Eddie again. “Wouldn’t be fair. Guess I was just surprised to feel your hand in my pocket.”

Even though he’d been expecting it, Eddie had managed to sneak up on him, which was not something he was used to.

Eddie’s smile dimmed a little and he sighed, pushing himself off the wall and beginning to wander aimlessly.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, lightly punching at the wall, expending energy. “Sometimes there aren’t a lot of options I guess.”

“Listen. I don’t know what kind of shit you’re wrapped up in but there’s always the option to get out of the game.”

Eddie swept his boot back and forth through the grime and dirt on the ground of the alley, leaving a tiny clearing in his wake. “If only that were true.”

“It can be.”

Eddie shrugged again now backing up towards the mouth of the alley. “Sometimes life doesn’t work out that way.”

Just before he got to the edge where he could disappear around the corner and into the crowd, he paused.

He regarded Steve with a tilted head before stepping forward again and taking Steve’s hand in his, raising it to his lips.

“See you around, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered into his knuckles before pressing his lips down, gentle and soft.

Steve let the blush take over his face this time, playing up the coy angle just a bit too hard but fixed Eddie with a cocky smirk regardless.

“I certainly hope so, baby.”

He was delighted to see a matching blush across Eddie’s face who exited the alley with a wink and then he was gone.

Steve reached up to his ear and switched his hearing aid back on.

“Oh good,” Robin’s voice came through a little bored, “you’re not dead.”

“No, I am actually dead, my ghost has just possessed the instruments monitoring my vitals to make it look like I’m still alive.”

“That’s alright then.” She sighed. “Less paperwork involved for me if they think you’re still alive.”

Steve hummed in agreement, finally leaving the alley with a quick glance up and down the street but Eddie was well and truly gone.

“So what happened with the guy?”

“We talked a little, I gave him some money and told him to get out of whatever game he’s in.”

He was close to his apartment building, he was surprised to find.

He’d been an auto pilot, paying more attention to Eddie following him than he had been where he was going.

“That’s it? I would have expected better from Slut Harrington.”

“You’d prefer if I told you the guy fed me his dick?” Steve asked, stopping in front of the entrance to his building and using the subtle biometric security to get in. “Or worse, you’d prefer to listen in? Wow-”

Robin’s screech nearly blew the side of his head open.

He was glad he had made it into the elevator by then because the shockwaves sent him reeling backwards into the metal walls like he’d been punched.

He heard the ding and the whir of metal as he started moving up towards the top floor.

“Jesus tap dancing Christ, Birdie!”

“You deserved it! I remember Steve! I still remember the last and only time I nearly heard you get your dick into-”

“Then don’t get pissy when I tune you out!”

Robin huffed. “I will never get those sounds out of my head.”

“People would pay good money for those sounds.”

“I’m sure they would but I am not one of them.”

Steve didn’t respond, just let out a heavy sigh as he exited the elevator and crossed the short hallway to get to his door.

He put his key in his lock and his hand on the handle at the same time, waiting just a second for the scan to complete before he heard the multiple locks and bars in the thick door click open allowing him inside.

If there was one perk to working a life threatening job that regularly got him injured for a non-governmental international agency resulting in almost no personal life, it was that the pay was really good.

Steve had grown up around money, he was used to it. But that money had been stuffy and came with so many strings attached. This money was his money and he got to do what he wanted with it.

And what he wanted didn’t involve soulless art pieces and ugly as fuck chandeliers just because they were in some magazine that his mother read.

Steve’s space was mismatched. He decorated with pieces he liked the look of, regardless of whether it all ‘went together’. He was the only one living here so he wasn’t going to decorate according to anyone else’s standards. He’d been doing enough of that throughout his life already.

His furniture was vintage or artisan in nature, found in tiny little antique shops hidden away in corners or crafted by small business owners who loved what they did.

The front door led directly into an open plan living/dining/kitchen space. The floor to ceiling windows facing the park had been heavily altered. Thick enough to not let any sound or bullets through and made to obscure the view enough that a person would need to be pressed right up against the glass to see in, even though Steve could see out clear as day.

Steve’s apartment was the go-to venue for any kind of game night, the Super Bowl, playoffs, the World Series, they were all hosted here. His TV and sound system were unparalleled.

He’d made sure of it.

The couches were solidly framed but Steve wouldn’t have gotten them if they weren’t also the most comfortable ones he could find. One of them had to be reupholstered and none of them matched but he didn’t care.

Lucas always got pride of place in the middle with Steve while the other sports-heads, Robin and surprisingly El, took up the remaining space at either side of them.

Everyone else was happy to sit along the sidelines, mainly there for the food anyway.

Even all the pots and pans in his kitchen were a hodgepodge of whatever he found. Vintage copper and well aged cast iron lined the walls.

The only things he’d conceded to buying new were the electrics.

And then there was all the spy shit.

But that was a given. It was mostly functional stuff, hidden safes and compartments to keep documents and hard drives secure. Multiple concealed pockets and nooks containing a variety of small handheld weapons. The odd button here and there to enable or disable the silent alarm.

And the safe room, hidden behind the bath that only Steve knew how to get into or that it was even there. Robin didn’t know. The higher ups at work didn’t know. Hopper didn’t know.

Maybe that was just a little too much paranoia, even for him, but paranoia had never steered him wrong before.

“Okay Birdie.” Steve flopped down face first onto his couch. “I am officially clocking out. Will I see you this weekend?”

“If this date goes well, hopefully not.”

“Go get her, tiger. I believe in you.”

“I believe in me too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They said their goodbyes, Steve hoping against hope that Robin and this new girl worked out.

She deserved something good in her life.

He tried to distract himself by making dinner, showering and bingeing that TV show she insisted he had to watch (Ineffable Husbands or whatever it was called) but his mind kept wandering back to big brown eyes and soft plush lips.

Steve rapped the remote against his forehead a few times, trying to drive the thoughts away but they wouldn’t go anywhere.

Robin had jokingly suggested that Steve was going to recruit Eddie into the fold and it wouldn’t be the first time, if it ever did happen.

Honestly, if it helped pull the guy out of whatever situation he’d gotten himself into, why shouldn’t he?

There were probably a thousand reasons to not drag Eddie into Steve’s dangerous world but just the thought of those eyes and that smile being directed at him again would have Steve doing almost anything.

Part 1 AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

This fic is about 70% complete and is currently clocking in at just under 40k so far. I love this story so much, it has taken over my life in the best way.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #spies au #spy steve harrington #tw guns #tw murder #robin buckley #guy in the chair robin #cat and mouse spy fic

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deliciousangelfestival · 8 months

Text

Nero Rose || Mob!Steve Rogers

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Detective!Reader

Warning: None

Words Count: 1,539

Summary: She has bad blood towards the famous gangster leader called Steve Rogers. With his influences, he sent her to the outskirts city. Then one day, you received a called that said Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. When you come back and meet him again, something terrible happens.

This is the story of the enemy-to-lovers.

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

A crowded street, sounds of car horns, smell of piss. All the little things made you miss New York.

It's been 8 months since you left the city. It wasn't your choice to be exact. You left because the head of the police demoted you from detective to traffic police.

You want to protest but it's impossible since your opponent is the powerful mob in the city.

Steve Rogers is the king of the mafia. His power in business, politics and network in the underworld made him unbeatable. No one can bring him down.

Until you did.

You found the drugs and weapons that connected to Rogers. You got him good. And the media and citizens also support you.

But you have no support when it comes to law and politics. The almighty Steve Rogers has given money to the judge and governor that could give them a third family. He also paid the best lawyer.

In the end, he only spent 3 nights in jail and went home. While you got sent to the outskirts city. You hate your boss and everyone. It took a while for you to accept the new life you have.

When you started to let it go, you suddenly got a call from the chief of police.

-Flashback Start-

He said, "Steve Rogers got stabbed."

You don't understand what's the point he told you this "Cheers for me. You want me to attend his funeral? I will wear white."

"He's still alive."

You scoffed "Too bad."

"He's a victim but he doesn't want to talk. He said that he only wants to talk to you."

-Flashback End-

That's why you return to New York. You want to see the look on his face, being pale and weak after getting hurt.

But before that, you're going to buy flowers. A gift for sick patients. You picked a perfect one for him. At the flower shop, you pointed at one flower. "I want that one."

The shop employee is an elderly woman. Her name is Sienna. You've known her since you were a kid. She's a joyful and funny grandma.

Sienna raised her eyebrows and looked at the flower you chose. She picked the flowers one by one. "That's an odd choice to visit a sick person. It means 'You're dead to me.'"

You smirked "Is that what it means? Even better."

You gave her the money after you received the flower bucket. "You're the best Sienna. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave a warm smile "Bye, Y/N ."

You arrived at the hospital and immediately saw one of his trusted right hands. Bucky Barnes. He's standing outside while smoking.

He put out his cigarette when he saw you "Detective Y/N."

You rolled your eyes "Fuck off. Where is he?"

Bucky scoffed and brought you to the VIP room. Before he opened the door, you could hear people talking, and laughing from inside the room.

When the door got open, and you walked inside, everyone turned silent and looked at you. All of them are wearing black suits.

8 months without seeing any mafia made you forget that you just entered enemy territory.

You gathered any courage that you had and walked towards the patient. You expect Steve to be pale, weak, and lying motionless on his bed since he got stabbed.

But your expectations betrayed you. In front of you, Steve Rogers is sitting like a boss with a half robe opened that shows his torsos tattoos. His hair even got combed to the back. He doesn't look sick.

"Aww, you bring me a gift. Thank you detective Y/N."

There it is. He always finds a way to make you angry. He knew you're not a detective anymore. You hate to admit it, even though he's a jerk, gangster, and narcissist. His face and his body are your type.

Many fish in the sea but why do you have to like a man like him?

You clicked your tongue and then gave the flower to him "I ordered this for your funeral to be honest."

"Thank you doll." He handed the flower to his subordinate. "Did you buy this from the Sienna flower shop?"

"How did you know?"

"From the wrapping paper, the ribbon. I'm her loyal customer." He winked at you.

Well, that's something you learned from him. Perhaps he bought flowers for his girlfriend.

You cleared your throat then grabbed a note and pencil from the pocket of your leather jacket.

"So what kind of person would dare to stab the gangster leader? That culprit must be crazy or a serial killer."

Suddenly the room turned quiet. Everyone is looking at you, including Steve.

"You're right. Not even my rival dared to pick a fight with me. I could feel it. It's not them."

You crossed your arms "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Since you left the city is not safe anymore. See? I got hurt. And, perhaps I missed the time we spent together."

You gritted your teeth. Geez, his words could make anyone misunderstood. The moment you spend with him is at the court or police station.

The police station became an event. Paparazzi is always there, the media, he even invites a private chef to bring his lunch and dinner.

When you interrogate him, he always has wine beside him. It's impossible to make him stop since he got the best lawyer Matt Murdock. The famous lawyer who defends crooked people and always wins.

You should've known that you have lost.

"Enough with the jokes. What do you want?"

"I'm offering you a chance to come back. I want you to investigate my case."

"Why?"

Steve tilted his head a bit "Because… I don't know. Maybe because I like playing with you."

You raised your voice "So you made me fly 4 hours to come here just for this?!!!"

Steve nodded.

Oh, how he loves to see you being mad. That's his plan from the beginning. He still holds the grudge for you to make him stay in jail for three nights.

-Flashback Start-

Steve was furious for sure when he got the letter from the court. He is the mobster leader in the city. How come a newcomer detective like you has the guts to put him to jail?

The audacity of ungrateful people. What's the point of bribing the police every month? They should've put a good leash on their member.

Every second and every minute all he can think about is what he should do with you if both of you meet. Quick death or slow death.

But he thinks of another plan when he finally meets you face to face. You're a new sheriff in the town. He wonders what kind of brilliant mind you have that made you able to catch him.

When you interrogated him, you were fierce and fearless. Even the chief of the police told you to calm down but you wouldn't listen.

Since that moment you got him interested.

-Flashback End-

You suddenly stood up and sighed "If I had my gun, you would be bleeding right now."

"Is that a threat detective? Because I'm scared."

Bucky shook his head by looking at both of you. He turned his head to watch the TV. He widened his eyes when he saw the headline news.

He turned up the volume "Steve, you should see this."

Both of you stopped arguing and looked at the TV.

"Breaking news. Another stabbed victim at the well known flower shop called Sienna Flower's. The victim is a 77 years old female. Witnesses said the victim was closing the shop when she got stabbed. The paramedics informed us that the victim got stabbed on the chest and lost her life on the way to the hospital."

You gasped. "Sienna." You couldn't believe it. You just left the shop for an hour and something terrible happened. You lost your old friend.

On your left, Steve only sees red. He clenched his fist. Sienna is a sweet old lady. His mother always went there and he always bought flowers from that shop for his mother.

What kind of heartless person wants to hurt a kind person like Sienna? He will chase the culprit until the end of the earth.

"Boys."

"YES BOSS!!!"

"Gather everyone to check on that area. Everyone gathered all the information. I will kill that person by myself."

All his subordinates left the room after they got the order.

After they left, Steve tried to stand up from his bed "Urgh."

When he touches his left waist, you finally see his wound. It's still bleeding.

"Are you crazy? You can't move yet."

You're right. The stabbed wound was deep. If the painkiller runs out, this wound will be painful. The doctor told Steve that couldn't move his body freely for a week. And he doesn't want to get another stitch.

Suddenly he got an idea.

Steve leaned his body towards you and whispered in your ear, "Detective do you want to work together to catch who killed Sienna?"

You looked at his eyes. It never crossed your mind to work together with gangster leaders like Steve Rogers. But with his mafia connections, you could catch the culprits quicker.

"Heck yeah."

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

#chris evans characters #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x y/n #mob!steve x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america

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moodybluemoon · 8 months

Text

All of Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Summary: Steve Rogers was always known for keeping promises, even if sometimes a little late.

Or why Steve Rogers would always remain the man out of time.

Warnings: Character death, kind of.

Someone had been trying to get Steve's attention for a while now. He faintly registered a voice calling his name, over and over, but it was like the rain dripping on his skin put him in a trance.

His whole life, it always seemed to rain around Steve. Wether it was as a little boy, running through the newly formed puddles in his grandmothers garden, with the elderly woman trying to keep up with him, or as a young man, meeting up with Bucky at the bar whenever it poured.

It also rained when he saw her for the first time.

He stood beneath the awning of a small bakery, shielding himself from the rain, when he heard the soft sound of her heels meeting the ground. Looking up, he could tell that he’d have a hard time calming his nerves if she went to stand next to him, and like she could read his mind, she joined him with clattering teeth. Once she met his gaze, she gave him a little smile.

If Steve hadn’t been half as self conscious as he was, he’d have spoken to her in the way Bucky would’ve. But he was no Bucky, and even if he were to somehow come up with the greatest line anyone had ever used, he was no line guy. But then, all of a sudden she started humming underneath her breath; all of me, why not take all of me? And Steve was done for.

Honey, he decided. He'd only needed those few seconds to know her voice sounded like honey. And so he did something out of character; he asked if she was cold.

If he could go back in time, Steve thought, he'd go back to that very day, stand underneath that very awning, and ask her to keep humming to him forever.

,,Are you okay, Steve?'' finally, he looked up at a worried Natasha, who was still trying to get his attention.

,,I asked if you wanted to come join us inside. You shouldn't be sitting out here. It's cold.''

He looked up at the sky, in hopes of finding some shooting star in the midnight sky, before reasoning ,,Serum, remember?''

,,Well you might be enhanced, but you're not invincible,'' she yawned, ,,nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.'' he nodded in agreement, mumbling something about being right behind her. His hand reaching into his shirt pocket to find the locket Fury managed to retrieve for him.

,,Stevie, come on! The movie starts in five minutes!'' she called, ,,I don't want to miss the beginning!''

Steve had no idea what Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant had been talking about for the previous hour, what he did know however, was that they could talk about it for another hour and he wouldn't care as long as his girl kept holding his hand.

,,Don't you just love her?'' she whispered after one of Katharine Hepburn's witty remarks, and all Steve could think was 'I really do.'

He’d happily listened to her rambling about her favourite parts of the movie, when she suddenly pulled him into the direction of a photobooth.

Smiling at that memory, he put the locket back inside his pocket, and finally joined his friends inside.

🕊️

Whenever he was in his apartment, a certain wave of nostalgia seemed to wash over him. He blamed it on being alone, although he wasn’t willing to change that. But tonight, it was much more than that. Tonight there was a certain loneliness he hadn’t felt since he woke up after seventy years in the ice.

There were few things to bring him comfort in this new world he found himself in. Beside her locket, he was also able to retrieve his girls record player along with a part of her record collection.

Tonight though, not even the voice of Billie Holiday was able to bring him any kind of comfort.

It had been a wedding, a happy event. The whole team was invited, two agents who decided to tie the knot. During the first few hours, Steve was doing just fine. It wasn’t until a young girl, about five or six years old, asked him if he’d dance with her. Naturally, he agreed.

„Thank you for dancing with me Mr. America.“ the girl smiled up at him, two front teeth missing.

„Not a problem sweetheart,“ he managed to suppress a small laugh, „was my pleasure.“ And that would’ve been the end of it, but then the girl had to ask him why he wasn’t dancing with his wife.

,,You know once the war is over I’m gonna marry you, right?“ startled, she looked up from buttering her toast. ,,Oh?“

Their breakfasts together had always been sacred, and though becoming Captain America had made him a busy man in the past few months, he’d always managed to set aside some time just for her.

Smiling at her reaction, he gave her a nod,

,,Gonna make you mine, officially. Then you’ll never be able to get away from me.“.

She looked down at her plate again. ,,Why would I ever try to get away from you?“ she paused, ,,Wouldn’t really make any sense.“

,,Oh you wouldn’t, but I still have to make sure. S‘why I got a ring. I’m only waiting till times are right.“ This time she looked up again, the motion so quick there were now spots dancing in front of her eyes.

,,You’re serious Stevie? You want to marry me? You bought a ring?“ now it was his turn to be shocked. „Course I want to marry you, dove. I hid it really well, and as soon as this is all over, m'gonna get on one knee, and then I’ll ask you.''

She seemed content at that. A smug smile finding its way to her lips. „Didn’t you ruin the surprise now?“

„Once I do it, you’re not gonna know it though.“ he assured before pulling her chair closer to him by it‘s leg. „You know there’s no one else for me, you gotta know by now how much I love you.“ he paused, stealing a bite of her toast. „Why were you so shocked about me wanting to marry you?“

After a few seconds she looked into his eyes ,,I think sometimes I convince myself that you’re too good to be true, and I’m always kind of waiting for something to pull the rug out from underneath me. I just feel really lucky that you love me back, Stevie.“ and as if she hadn’t just declared her love for him in ways he’d never allowed himself to dream, she took her slice back and bit into it.

He pulled her out of her chair and on his lap so quick, she couldn’t even be startled. ,,You are so perfect, dovey. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to make the universe think I deserve you, but I thank it every single minute for deciding to make it rain that day.“ and because she could never let him have the last word, she whispered into his ear „I do too, and you know I hate rain.“

,,Dancing with you was more than enough for me, sweetheart.“ he simply let the girl know, exchanging a small wave before she returned to her mother.

🕊️

„I think that maybe you’re not sure who you are at the moment, and that’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, and ever since you’ve been out of the ice you’ve had to take on this role. But that’s not who your were before, is it?“ Natasha asked him once while they were on the run.

Truthfully, Steve had spent just enough time with himself to figure out what was wrong with him. A therapist he’d once spoken with, told him he’d eventually figure out how to move on and accommodate to this new world he was in. But Steve knew that there was no other side of the rainbow for him. Saving Bucky had been a priority, but now there was no reason for him to wake up in the morning. There would always be another fight, and the part of Steve that „could do this all day“ was slowly fading away.

He was tired. He spent most days longing for the past, back when he had known who he was.

„Are you going to be different now, Stevie?“ he chuckled underneath his breath, caressing her soft legs underneath the thick blankets.

„Of course I’m going to be different, dove. That’s why I did all this.“ he could feel her lightly tense in his hold. Supporting herself on his broad chest, which she still had to get used to, she sat up.

„No, I mean with me. There’s going to be women lining up to be with you. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to keep up.“ unfortunately, he failed to see the tears already forming in her eyes.

„What? Do you think I’m with you because I couldn’t get anyone else?“ he moved away from her, unaware of her own insecurities. ,,You think now that I have options I’m going to leave you?“

„No, I meant, -I just“ „What? Me telling you I love you every single day, that’s not enough? God I don’t get you sometimes-“ interrupted by her soft whimpering, as she cried into her hands, he immediately came to sit back next to her. „Hey, hey, no baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. C‘mere.“ he pulled her into his arms again. Pressing kisses to her shoulder, he whispered ,,I’m sorry dovey, don’t cry, please.“

After a while of him cooing lovingly into her ear, she was finally able to calm down.

„You’ve always been enough for me, Steve. I didn’t mean to imply that you’d just leave me. But there’s so many great girls out there that will get to see how great you are now, and I’m scared you’ll change. You won’t be my Stevie anymore.“

In his life, Steve would face a lot of uncertainties; who he could trust, what the right thing was, where life was leading him. But there was one thing, that had been certain throughout all of that.

„I’m always going to be your Stevie.“

🕊️

When he was around five years old, Steve’s father had smacked him so hard, blood was coming out of his ear. His mother immediately consoled him, telling him to never give his father backtalk again, preventing other incidents like that to happen.

Looking back, Steve was able to trace almost everything in his life back to that one moment. He was never able to stick up to his father without putting his mother at risk, so he let it be.

But as he got older, he would do anything to prove a point, making sure he’d never feel insignificant again. That attitude had eventually led him to fly straight into the water.

He remembered regret. A picture of his Dove in front of him, reminding him of what he could, what he should come home to. But it was regret, because he already decided, because that’s who he was. Peggy’s words, asking him to reconsider, had seemed so hopeful, but hope could only ever do so much.

The next time he’d talk to Peggy, would be seventy years later.

,,Did you tell her, that I would’ve wanted her to move on?“ he asked during one of his visits.

„When we were young, Steve, all the time. I even found a great man, years after you were gone. I had to convince her for weeks to go out with him, eventually, she agreed if I came with her.“ her eyes crinkled with a small smile, ,,she spent the entire night talking about you, and after he left, she cried into my arms because she felt that she betrayed you.“

„I never would’ve wanted her to feel like that.“ Steve confessed, honestly. But he understood, because there was no one else for him either.

,,I know that, Steve. But one day, I really looked at that photo of the two of you, you know? The one in the photobooth. She was so at peace, so happy. I realised she could only look like that with you. And then I understood that she didn’t need more time, she only needed you.“

Fighting hard to keep the tears threatening to escape his waterline inside, Peggy added „She was never alone, though. I’ve always included her in everything I did. We made a lot of friends too, she was happy a lot. But she was missing a part of herself, and that was you.“

And the only thing on his mind was how he hadn’t been able to receive her on the other side.

🕊️

After the snap, Steve found himself once again surrounded by loss. Losing Bucky a second time, caused him to lose all hope. It was like he was fighting in vain. And even though he’d never known how to deal with someone’s passing, it used to be easier. Things used to be more certain.

,,I feel like I'm burdening you.'' he told her one night, after they’d already turned the lights off. It wasn’t anything she did, in fact, she was the only thing keeping him together at all. Her holding him and whispering into his ear that things would be okay, were at times his only solace.

But there was a sadness that wasn’t there before, and everyday he felt like he took her down with him.

„You’re not, Stevie, I promise. You’re hurting, and that’s normal, he’s your brother. I know it seems like there’s only darkness surrounding you, but I promise you, it will get better. We’ll always miss him, but we’ll be alright, promise.“

Cupping her face in his hands, he was sure; she’d never know just how much he loved her.

🕊️

Gloomy. It was a word he’d never used, because it caused an unsettling feeling. During the war, whenever someone described it as feeling gloomy, he’d stop listening. It never felt quite right. Body’s surrounding them made them feel nauseous, but they were always hopeful. Hopeful, never gloomy. But as he watch the world burn now, humanity having lost all hope over the last five years he was sure of it, this was gloomy.

He didn’t know what it was this time, what made him keep fighting when it was so definite. He was alone. It felt right, in a way, like he’d always known it would eventually end like this. Of course, years ago he pictured himself beaten in some dark alley, but this was supposed to happen.

He accepted that happiness was not meant for him. And so he was ready. One last fight.

„On your left.“

,,You need to promise me that you’ll make it back to me. You have to.“ ringing in his ears, because how could he promise something like that?

„Dovey, I’ll try everything-“ she interrupted him, sobbing, „you don’t try, you come back to me! You just do.“

She was pleading with him, and he understood. Because he understood that she felt the same way about him, as he did about her. But this was the only chance, and he would do whatever was needed of him to help end the war.

And then he really looked at her, and he also understood that making this promise, was something she needed. And so he gave it to her.

During that night, she wouldn’t close her eyes for one second. She watched him sleep, and helped him get ready in the morning. The memory of her waving at him while the car was slowly driving away, would haunt him for the next years of his life. The look in her eyes; hopefulness. Trying to hold onto his promise, and then; acceptance. Like she’d known.

That look of acceptance would encounter him once more, only this time it would be Bucky. They shared no words about it, but Bucky never needed words to be able to read his best friend.

„But you’re keeping the outfit, right?“

,,You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.“

Bucky chuckled in response, looking up just in time to notice his friend smiling at the girl who had him wrapped around her finger.

„So I leave for a few months and you turn into Clark Gable, huh?“ he joked.

Steve was fixated though. Watching as his girl danced around with Peggy, laughing and carefree, the way he always wanted her to be.

„You tell her you love her yet?“ Bucky questioned, knowingly.

The smile on his face gave away an answer before he did.

„Yeah. She loves me too, you know? I got real lucky, Buck.“

Before Bucky had the chance to reply, she was stumbling towards their booth.

„Peggy‘s talking to some guy, he’s real cute.“ she explained, sitting down. Grinning slightly at her slurred words, Steve pulled her to his side. „What, you think he’s cute, dovey?“ mock offense decorated his words, which she couldn’t detect in her current state.

„Noo, I meant for her, Stevie! I don’t find him cute, promise.“ she clarified, placing a kiss on his cheek.

„You’re sure? Because that’s really what it sounded like.“ he continued his little game, only ending it once a whiny „Steviee.“ met his ears. ,,Okay baby, s’alright. I believe you.“ he promised, kissing her hair.

„Alright, I’m going over to the guys. Have fun.“ Bucky teased, knowing fully that they were too caught up to hear a word he said.

So he walked away, not being spared one more „Love you soo much, Stevie.“

He really did get lucky.

,,Don't do anything stupid until I get back.''

,,How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.''

And as they hugged goodbye, Steve felt it. They were going to be okay.

🕊️

„One day, I want us to have a porch swing.“ he told her one night, as they were lying underneath the stars, her head lying on his chest.

„A porch swing for our apartment? That’s a nice touch.“ she joked.

He grabbed her shoulders, and rolled them over so he was now on top of her, forearms supporting him.

„I told you I’m going to marry you, dove. That comes with the house, the dog and the porch swing.“ he explained, leaning down slightly to peck her lips.

The memory, which now seemed a lifetime ago, brought him comfort as he walked up to the house she moved into after the war.

„Tell me what else it comes with?“ he started kissing her neck, „A garden, the biggest you’ve ever seen. Flowers everywhere. My last name, if you want it.“

At the door, the sign reading ROGERS in golden letters pulled at his heartstrings.

„Want everything, Stevie. With you.“

A knock, then a few seconds pass, and the door opens.

„Still want everything with me, dovey?“

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #x reader

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awingedllama · 9 days

Note

i love that you returned with gifts for us too!!! you are truly the best creator <3 i hope life has been treating you fairly in your absence love! and if not, things will get better <3 lots of love x

everyone knows you can't come back without gifts after a year+ long hiatus. that's just basic hiatus etiquette

and thank you for your kind words anon <3 i hope you're right. my mental health is... variable, and it's been impacting my ability to be creative. really hoping i come out on the other side of it soon. there's so much cool stuff i want to learn/make and share with the community

unfortunately the inside of my brain is just the elderly Steve Rogers "No, I don't think I will" meme 90% of the time

#replies #asks

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spideytingley · 4 months

Text

twice in a lifetime

pairing: steve rogers x platonic child!oc

summary: shortly after getting out of the ice in 2011, Steve finds out that the descendants of one of his friends live on New York, and he decides to visit them, thinking that maybe he won’t have to be all alone anymore. thanks to this, he finds a family for him in this new time.

content warning: brief mentions of death.

word count: 1.6k

Doubt had started to creep in as Steve hesitated on the doorstep, staring at the wooden door in front of him. An elderly man had opened the building’s door for him, recognising him from the news, or maybe from a museum exhibit — he was supposed to be ancient history by now, but yet there he stood. The second World War had been almost seventy years ago, and while having lived it, Steve was barely thirty. And his friends were dead, as he should be.

That was why he was standing in front of the apartment, really. It turned out that according to SHIELD’s extensive database, a past teammate of his, Dum Dum Dugan, had family living in New York, close to where he lived in Brooklyn. It was a no-brainer that he had to visit, at least drop in to see what had become of something he’d known. Something that wasn’t a grave. (Or Peggy Carter, of whom he didn’t want to think about too much, for the sake of his heavy heart.)

He would be intruding in their life, he knew that. It was probable that none of them ever wanted a super soldier in their house, stirring up memories from long ago, which was why he decided that, in reality, it was a bad idea from the start. He heaved a sigh and turned around. Maybe next time he would have the courage to go in. Third time’s the charm, isn’t that how that goes?

The sound of a lock turning made him stop on his tracks. The door to apartment 9B creaked, and Steve had to look down to see a head peeking from the small opened space left by the door. It was one of the kids he’d seen on the files, barely ten years old and grinning up at him like she knew something he didn’t.

“Hi,” breathed Steve, tripping on air as he made his way back to the door.

The girl giggled, sharing a look with someone still hiding behind the door. “Hi. You’ve been standing there a whole lotta time, Mr. Steve. Are you tired?”

He blinked. Maybe she did know something he didn’t.

“You know who I am?”

“Yeah! It’s the second time you’ve been to our house, but you never go in. Daddy says to give you time, but I think you need a little push,” she said, big green eyes looking up at him. “So this is me pushing you. Come on in, Dom even had time to bake some cookies while you were there!”

She made a motion of inviting him in, but as she walked towards what he guessed must be the kitchen, he stayed on the doorway. He knew her name was Flora, she was ten and a half, and barely four feet tall, which was short for her age. She was in fifth grade in a primary school in Brooklyn, and she already knew she wanted to be a doctor. Steve knew all these things about her, and he was a stranger to her — yet she was so trusting.

She turned around to look at him, a cheeky grin on her face as she said, “We have star sprinkles for you, Mr. Steve. Dad said maybe you wouldn’t like them, but Dom and I thought it would be so funny. Do you like red, white and blue sprinkles, Mr. Steve?”

It had been a while since he’d been around children, so he was unsure if Flora was some special case, or if all kids talked that much in so little time.

He managed to smile at her, about to answer—

“Flora!” a man’s voice chided, and Steve looked the other way to see who couldn’t be other than Ronan Dugan, her father, and Dum Dum’s grandkid. Ronan’s gaze settled on him, and he could see the apology swimming in his eyes. “Mr. Rogers, I’m so sorry about my daughter’s enthusiasm. They’ve just been excited to finally meet you.”

“They have?” he asked Ronan, startled. “I don’t mind it, it’s… refreshing, actually. And call me Steve, please.”

His eyes lingered on the girl running into the other room, her giggle echoing off the walls, and he was reminded of little Rebecca Barnes, who had just turned twenty the last time he’d seen her, which had been… a long time ago. She was probably dead, too.

“Director Fury told me you’d been asking around about us,” Ronan said, “and if there’s something my kids are, is nosy, so they found out about it.”

Steve had almost forgotten that detail. Most of the family had or was currently working for SHIELD both as agents on the field or offices, ever since Dum Dum had become one of the founding members of the organization—it was their legacy, and they clearly treated it like it.

Ronan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If you think this is too much, I totally understand. You’re not obligated to be here, Steve. I can tell the kids you were called aw–”

“Nonsense,” he rapidly said. He didn’t know if he would have the courage to try again otherwise. “I’d love to meet all of you, if it’s alright with you.”

“I’m afraid Flora and Dominic would kick me out of my house if I kicked you out,” he joked, bringing an easy smile to Steve’s face. “You can leave your jacket on that hanger, by the way. The kids are in the kitchen, when Flora sensed you coming they started baking, as I’m sure she told you.”

Steve hesitated at the strange choice of words, but thought nothing of it and closed the front door behind him, hanging his aviator jacket. Soon he was being met with the smell of freshly baked cookies coming from the kitchen, where he could see Flora and a much taller boy, Dominic—who liked to be called Dom, as his file said.

As soon as he saw him, the teenager perked up, stretching a hand toward him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ro– Sir… Captain America,” he rushed the words out endearingly in a nervous manner.

Steve shook his hand, briefly surprised by the strength of his grip. “Call me Steve, Dominic.”

“Then you can call me Dom,” he replied, with a grin.

He glanced at the countertop, where Flora was working very hard in concentrating on handling the sprinkles she had told him about by the door. In the time he’d been deciding on whether he would enter or not, they had baked cookies that looked very appetizing—all with the color of his uniform, the flag of the United States.

The kitchen was bigger that the one he had at his apartment, which made sense given that it was for a family of three. It was cozy, and lived in, noticeable on the way the fridge was filled with stickers and photos stuck to it with magnets of places they’d visited—he felt a sudden sensation of longing in the way this house screamed home, a stark contrast to the cold place that awaited him just two blocks away.

“Can you eat cookies?” asked Flora, bringing him out of his evaluation of their home. “Dad isn’t really allowed to, he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

“I can eat pretty much anything,” he confessed, with a smile. “And however much I want, thanks to being a supersoldier.”

“Great, because we made too many cookies!”

“Come on, Flora, there’s no such thing as too many cookies,” said Ronan, bringing one to his mouth. “Especially when they taste this good. I might have to ban you two from the kitchen, eh? Not all of us can eat without getting fat.”

Steve laughed at the dig, and took the cookie that Dom was offering. His eyes widened. “This is really good.”

The kids high-fived each other, bright smiles on their faces for a job well-done.

“What’s that?” asked Dominic, lazily pointing with his index finger to the leather notebook in Steve’s hands.

They had brought the trays to the living room and had turned on the television, and Steve had gotten it out of his pocket when something interesting had shown up on the News, ready to write it down for later.

“It’s where I write general knowledge events that I missed, so I can learn about them,” he said, handing it to him. “Director Fury gave me some of those, but I’ve been collecting them ever since I woke up.”

Flora stood behind the couch, reading the notebook from over her brother’s shoulder. “Steve, you’re missing a lot of stuff! I can’t believe Mamma Mia isn’t there,” she whispered in shock.

He hummed, recognizing the name. “That’s a song from ABBA, right?”

“And only the best musical of all time!”

“Says a ten-year-old,” laughed Ronan, sharing an amused look with Steve.

“Whoever recommended just Star Wars has clearly never watched Star Trek,” said Dom, a frown on his face as he read.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” breathed Steve, brows knitted together. “I tell you what, you both can write whatever you think I’m missing from this century—“

“—and the previous one,” piped in Ronan.

“And the previous one,” he agreed, and hesitantly looked at the kids. “And maybe you could show me some of it?”

Their eyes lit up, excitement shining in them.

“You are so watching Mamma Mia!” squealed Flora, running out of the living room.

Steve’s eyes followed her as she left, Ronan’s laugh filling the room. “You have a problem in your hands, she’s getting her CDs from her room.”

A beat passed.

“What’s a CD?”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #original character #original female character #captain america #marvel fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #dum dum dugan #found family #leah writes #i love seeing him happy #steve rogers deserved better in the 21st century #how did you let this man be alone for so long marvel #children #steve rogers’ notebook #original child character

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ladymunson · 8 months

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The Train 18+

Fic Summary: The most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen shares your commute to work every day on the train. He notices you too but neither of you acts on it, until one evening when you’ve had a drink…

A/N: My first Steve Rogers fic, aaaahhhh! I hope you all like it. This is an AU so post serum Steve but he’s not an Avenger.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, strangers, public sex, public transport, no use of y/n.

Word count: 1585

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the amazing @firefly-graphics

It’s 7am, you’re sitting on the train drinking your coffee when he gets on. It’s been about six weeks since you started sharing the same commute and it’s become the best part of your day. You’ve never spoken but there’s definitely sparks. You mostly just look at each other, you can tell there is an attraction between you but neither of you has ever made a move. You can’t help but stare when he sits opposite you, he has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

An elderly lady gets on the train and all the seats are taken, he gets up to let her sit and stands near you. You both still don’t talk but he keeps looking at you. The man next to you gets off at the next stop, he looks at the seat then at you. Waiting for you to say something. You don’t speak, just slightly nod. He sits down next to you, and you smell his cologne. It makes your underwear wet, but your face doesn’t betray you. You sit in silence for the rest of the journey, just glancing at each other out of the corners of your eyes.

Five stops later he’s about to get off the train but his fingertips graze your thigh as he stands. You feel the electricity buzz through you at his touch, completely soaking your underwear. You can help but wonder if he felt it too?

It’s the middle of summer and you’ve been invited out tonight for drinks for a co-worker's birthday. You’re going out straight after work, so you have another outfit and shoes in your bag, you really don’t want to be going out in your work clothes. You wear a pencil skirt and blouse for work, not the best outfit to be going out in. Unless you’re going to a librarian or secretary convention.

You disembark the train and walk the two blocks to work, thinking about him the whole way. Wishing that you’d had the courage to ask his name, so you have something to call out when you get yourself off later.

You get to work ten minutes early, so you go and get another coffee, needing the caffeine to get you through your workday. Hopefully it will keep you caffeinated all night too, so you can spend the entire night imagining him and seeing how many orgasms you can give yourself.

Your workday drags on, you pray for the end of the day so you can change for your night out. At 4:45pm and with all tasks finished for the day you head into the washroom to get changed. You take a quick shower and apply fresh make up before putting on your yellow summer dress and white wedge sandals. A white belt around your waist which matches your shoes and bag. You leave your hair down; it cascades around your shoulders. You keep your makeup light and stay on the nude side, fresher faced makes for an easier pull. Maybe you’ll find a guy to take home tonight, take out all your sexual frustration on him.

You meet the girls in the bar across the street for drinks, all of you in different colours as you order the first round of drinks. You choose a nice Chardonnay; white wine makes you lose you inhibitions and gives you confidence. Which is what you are going to need if you want to take a guy home.

After two hours of laughs and three glasses of wine you’re feeling free, but you’ve not seen a single guy who you were interested in. A couple of guys have approached but you’ve shot them down. You look across the bar and catch a glimpse of a guy who you think is the guy from the train, but your mind is playing tricks on you.

Another two hours and another two glasses of wine later and you’re ready to call it a night. You say goodnight to the girls and leave the bar alone, turning left outside the bar and walking towards the train station to head home.

You wait on the platform, the wine doing its job of giving you confidence but you’re still solo. Your train arrives and you get on, the compartment is empty apart from you, so you take a seat in the middle of the carriage and lean back, closing your eyes for a moment.

The train begins to move, causing vibrations to run through you. Then you begin to get aroused and think to yourself, “I’m alone, no one else here. Maybe I should rub one out?” You decide that you will and begin to rock back and forth slightly, your underwear getting wetter by the second. The vibrations pulsing through your pussy, making you quietly moan to yourself.

The train slows indicating that it’s approaching a station. You stop rocking for a moment, you don’t want anyone getting on and knowing what you were up to.

A guy gets on at the end of the carriage and takes a seat, he looks over to you. It’s him! Your fantasy guy from your commute! He eyes you up in your yellow summer dress and gets up from his seat. Making his way over to sit opposite you, he makes eye contact and gives you a smile.

The train begins to move, your liquid courage kicks into high gear and you begin to rock again. Making eye contact the entire time, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a moan. The confidence grows and you slip your hand under the skirt of your dress and reach into your panties. Your fingers find your clit and your breath quickens, you begin rubbing in a circular motion around your clit, moaning as you do. You bite your lip as you continue to look into his eyes, the eyes you see when you fantasise, your orgasm approaching quickly.

He gets up from his seat and walks over, leaning in for a kiss. Your fingers move faster on your clit when he reaches down and grabs your wrist. He pulls your hand out of your panties and raises it to his mouth, he licks and sucks on your fingers, moaning as he does. He smiles at you and drops to his knees, pulls your panties aside and plants a kiss directly on your pussy.

You cry out as his tongue delves between your folds, his lips capturing your clit and begins sucking on it. You throw your head back and grunt as you feel your orgasm building again.

He stops briefly to say “Steve” before returning to his oral ministrations. You moan and writhe as you crest on the edge, the intensity amplified by the public setting.

Your climax hits with a violence you haven’t ever felt before, you grab the back of his head and cry out his name. He doesn’t let up from his licking and sucking as you orgasm, his mouth working away on your now dripping pussy. The train slows and he stops, moving your panties back into place and straightening your skirt before returning to his seat.

No one gets on the train and as it pulls away from the station, you make a decision. You stand, legs shaky from the intense orgasm but you reach up under your skirt and hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and pull them down, throwing them onto the seat next to him.

You look down and see his erection straining through his jeans, you lick your lips, and reach for him. He unbuttons his jeans, freeing his raging hard on. You place your legs either side of him and lower yourself down onto his magnificent thick dick. Your cunt slick from the orgasm, making it easier for him to slide inside you.

You moan as his cock fills you up, his eyes almost roll back into his head as you take all of him, the head of his dick hitting your cervix. You begin grinding your hips as your pussy grips onto him, he feels amazing inside you, but you have to control yourself and not lose composure.

You begin to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of you. He grabs onto your ass to help you move, his breathing beginning to her heavier as his climax approaches. Your movement quickens as your orgasm creeps up too, he wraps his arms around you as his hits.

“Oh fuck! Nuuuugh!!!” He yells as he pumps his cum inside you. You orgasm around his cock, the pulses making his last longer. You collapse against him as the spasms subside. You catch your breath a little before standing and getting two tissues out of your bag. You hand one to him and clean yourself up with the other.

The train slows to a stop, you bend down to kiss him before grabbing your panties and handing them to him. You give him a wink and leave the train, trying to walk properly after that incredible fuck. You make your way along the platform to the exit when someone grabs your wrist. You spin around and find yourself looking into those blue eyes again.

“Not getting away that easily” he says. “Now that I’ve had you, I want more.” You smile and take his hand, leading him out of the station and to your apartment. Where you plan to show him exactly how badly you’ve wanted him.

Tags: @cevansbaby-dove @patzammit

#steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #ladymunson #500 followers special story

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ronearoundblindly · 1 day

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Let’s get Angsty! For Fools Rush In! Please 😆🖤

5. Do they argue often? If so, what do they argue about?

9. What do they dislike most about the other? Why?

37. Who’s more emotionally sensitive/cries more often?

Questions are from this ask game and for the FRI series with Steve Rogers and lab tech!reader.

💜 I hope you enjoy this, angst anon, even if I didn't strictly try to make it sad or super emotional. 💜

Ya know...I think they do argue, but probably only because I love to write arguments???

They've had tiffs before--one about you jokingly calling him a 'himbo' and some lashing out when his hangups on intimacy were not communicated--but Sketch and Keeps work their best together when brutally honest. It's tough AND it's a strength.

They argue because Steve has a very public life and a private personality. With that comes the inability to have honest conversations about bothersome things right when they happen because there could be press or fans or just people around who do not need to know your business.

Under no circumstances would you or Steve yell at each other unless alone, and even then, it's not yelling and screaming but mostly venting. Like in Dignity. Both of you can get frustrated; that's part of life.

Sometimes Steve is unrealistic about who he is now, and it can infuriate you. Yes, he's a humble man, and no, he isn't superficial. Like anyone, Steve can appreciate attention from people he wants attention from...

...and the rest he just...ignores.

He doesn't realize or acknowledge that people covet him and fawn over him and depreciate you in order to feel closer to him. It is plain stupid that he can't see this shit going on, and you hate having to be the one to point it out.

Steve, on the other hand, dislikes how easily you depreciate yourself. Drives him bonkers. So what if the rest of the world has an opinion of him, an opinion of you, or an opinion of your relationship? Pardon his french, but who gives a shit? He wishes he knew how to convince you perfect for him and perfect together does not have to mean perfect at all.

Right, so Steve can't or rarely cries. He gets hot, like overheated and uncomfortable, blotchy like a heart-suit high card. All the pressure that can't be released through tears just builds up.

Steve is gifted at compartmentalizing these things, but he gets easily *dinged* mentally. It's a hazard of missing so much culture and history and social development; he can't keep up with being both the Greatest Generation and Gen X. Steve is the most liberal, old fart on Earth. It's very lonely.

Oddly enough, you know that feeling when an elderly person repeats stories over and over again about how they're right and how they learned a lesson as if no one else ever knew? Steve gets that feeling listening to younger and younger people.

That's all a really roundabout way to say that technically you cry more than Steve, but you two have about equal sensitivity to modern struggles. Steve is grateful that he can talk through all of those things with you, and he's happy to listen. Your experiences may be different, but the love you share is the same--that, and how much of a crapshoot growing up is in any decade...

😏

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 8 months

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A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Christmas As A Roamer - The Seventh Christmas

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Summary: Rejected by your true mate at 21, you’ve given up on the Fates and the Moon Goddesses giving you a second chance. Being a Roamer for the last 9 years, you’re an Omega hardened by the world. You’re safe on your own because of your witchcraft, but it doesn’t stop Alphas and plenty of others sniffing around, especially when you’re an unmated Omega witch, who’s wolf also happens to be white, the rarest kind. You don’t need anyone, but why do you keep coming back to Brookville and why do you keep walking into trouble and helping people that you don’t know but for some strange reason feel like family. And where is that smell of apple pie coming from?

Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters,

You couldn’t hold in your snort of laughter as you entered the hotel room. No scratch that, hotel suite. An actual suite! A suite that was quiet possibly bigger than your whole house growing up.

“Everything ok Miss?” the bell hop asked.

“Oh yes, thank you, just kind of feels like I’ve fallen face first into Home Alone 2.”

He smiled at you and tried to hide his laughter.

“Well, it’s not that room but it’s pretty similar. Mr Thrombey says to remind you to run up the room service, something about Hugh paying.”

You failed to answer as your attention was pulled by the huge Christmas tree in the corner.

Christmas trees were a standard feature over the festive period but they held a special significance for witches. The thick fir tree stood tall and broad in the corner, well decorated and instead of an angel or fairy on its top there was a witch on a broom that suspiciously resembled you.

“That’s a gift from Mr Thormbey, the box is in the cloakroom for you to take it with you.” the bell hop gestured towards what you guessed was the cloakroom and you nodded in response.

“Can I get you anything else Miss? A tour of the room?”

As sweet and polite as the beta bell hop was you really didn’t want his scent all over the place. Your new higher end, better quality suppressants had frazzled your senses and put you on high alert as your body got used to them.

“I’m good, thank you.” you tipped him well and you locked the door tightly behind him as he left. You pulled a vine from a jar in your bag and placed it over the lock and handle. It grew and secured the door further. Thank you Cordelia.

You wandered around the suite, taking in its, well you weren’t sure, what to call it, over the topness? That wasn’t a word. Opulence then? It was definitely fancy.

When you found the bathtub that you could probably go swimming in, you decided to drop a certain elderly alpha a text.

Thank you Harlan, quick question as I’m not bijouy like you, is this a pool or a bathtub?

Harlan loved your sarcasm and it had been a personal highlight of his over the last few months to see you go toe to toe with his various family members, especially his grandson. That along with when you thrown said grandson straight across the garden into a tree and then onwards into the fountain, which you’d blessed to help rid him of the spell that had been placed on him. The tree wasn’t necessary but he’d grabbed your ass too many times.

Working with the Thrombeys had been quite the experience. You’d managed to get a few hours in the local witchcraft store as the pack and coven running it had experienced a surge in pups post-war, which was to be expected but with everyone out of sync, the usual staggering of births was out the window. You’d entered looking for a few supplies and left with a job.

A few weeks in Harlan had arrived with his nurse asking for a witch for their annual Halloween festivities. The coven had given a firm no saying they were too busy with the store and pups, and couldn’t spare the time this year. You were surprised and a little confused. Their store was doing well, why did they usually work for this random rich man, especially as a token witch at Halloween. Witches usually avoid things like that and the stigma that came with it. Many witches saw it comparable to the few witches that were kept alive and kept as ‘guests’ by rich families after Salem. News flash, they weren’t guests and were used for protection and often subjected to repeated alpha commands to stop them leaving.

You’d continued to pretend you were minding your own business, whilst eves-dropping. Your name pulled your attention away from the shelf you’d been at for the same ten minutes.

“Y/N” your name again.

“Yes, Luna Zelda.”

“Harlan here is looking for a witch to stay with them over the Halloween weekend. We usually oblige but you know yourself how busy we are.”

Harlan had stood from his wheelchair and offered you his hand.

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.” you’d replied, smiling as Hilda had sniggered in the corner, her three month old on her hip.

“Well it has everything to do with you, Miss?” Harlan replied, offering his hand again.

“Miss Non Of Your Business.” you replied, turning and walking away into the back of the store.

By the next day it had very much been your business. Zelda had done her best to convince you, spending the whole afternoon explain why one of them would be their token witch each year. The busyness of the store wasn’t constant and they had months in the low season where they wouldn’t break even. Yet they clearly weren’t struggling.

“Harlan pays well.”

Then Zelda had told you the amount and you’d been a bit sick in your mouth. This was quickly followed with you offering to look after the pups so they could still do the job but with so many little ones around they understandably didn’t want to be parted from the pack, especially not as witches at Halloween.

Then Fiona had called. She did this on occasion, as much as you tried to brush her off but with one of the girls from Christmas Eve being a clairvoyant it would sometimes spark her worry. She was also incredibly nosy.

Of course, she knew Harlan. It made sense they were a similar age, both from money, he could be trusted she told you and “goddess knows child you need the money”.

It had given you food for thought and then you’d been awoken by a scuffle outside the bar across the street. Zelda and Hilda had let you stay in the small studio above the shop as part of your working with them but the bar across the street was often a curse to your white wolf ears.

“Hands off my omega!” was followed by more arguing, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, glass being broken and a scream of no. A growl ripped deep in your chest and you were out the window, barefooted and standing on your broom with your jeans thrown on over your pyjamas. The scream wasn’t an average scream, if any could be called that. It was an omega and she was terrified.

You were quick across the street and at the side of the omega who was now bent across her alpha shaking him, what seemed to be their pack trying to help. The alpha that had done the damage was now being held back.

“You’ve done it now Ransom, no amount of Thrombey money can fix this.”

You scowled and flicked your broom to stand in front of him, without casting an eye away from the alpha on the floor.

“Keep him as you in stance”

The blonde being held back went stiff, arms by his side and stood ridged in mirror to your broom. Those holding him shuffled back, as whispers asked who you were.

“May I help?” you asked the omega, she looked up at you, to her alpha on the floor, then across to who you guessed was the alpha of the pack.

He nodded and answered a quiet “please”.

You could hear the voice of the pack beta on the phone requesting the ambulance be quick.

You sniffed and scanned his body using both your white wolf instincts and your powers of a witch.

“Tell them he has a broken jaw, his eye socket is shattered and he has swelling to his brain. There’s a bleed to his brain too.”

There was a mix of whimpers and growls in response.

“I can help but it’ll be temporary. Should give you long enough to get him to the hospital and for them to get him in surgery.”

You looked up at the alpha of the pack.

“You have my permission.”

You used your powers to reduce the bleeding and swelling, you summoned your bag from the open window of the studio and dabbed a mix of peppermint and wintergreen oils around his face. You turned to his omega and placed his hand in hers, telling her to keep talking to him. It was then you noticed the marks on her arms.

“Did he do this?” You asked nudging your head in the direction of the alpha you now knew as Ransom, still held in place by your broom. She nodded and turned away from you.

You rose from your knees and nodded to the pack alpha, who followed you towards Ransom. You sighed as you heard his wallet being pulled from his jeans.

“You don’t owe me anything but I will take him.”

There was a darkness to your eyes as you turned towards the pack alpha for permission. You didn’t really care if he gave it you or not, one way or another you were teaching this arsehole a lesson. The alpha nodded.

“Do what you want with him, just make sure he never comes near my pack again.”

You moved quickly grabbing Ransom by the throat and dropping the broom to stand on it and fly away. There was a gasp from the crowd as you did and you realised you literally didn’t give a shit about what they thought.

You’d spent the night teaching the spoiled trust fund brat a lesson. Tossing him through the air, a dip in the river, followed by you leaving him up a tree. Towards the end you thought you should maybe feel sorry for him, but you didn’t. You knew as soon as you saw him outside the bar he’d been hit with a spell and you guessed he’d been battling with it for least six months but Ransom was still an asshole. A good looking asshole but an asshole non the less. The spell had just emphasised his already there traits.

You landed on the Thrombey's driveway as the sun rose and were quickly greeted by the banging of the large front doors being swung open and a shotgun being pointed in your face.

“You must be daddy dearest” you’d quipped as you used magic to pull the gun from his hands and tossed it into the windscreen of the vintage looking BMW parked to the side of the house.

“I wouldn’t bother fighting her or pointing any guns either” came Harlan’s voice, “she’s a six and could have us all on our asses before we’ve had chance to say thank you.”

“What the hell are we saying thank you for?” a female voice snapped.

“Well she didn’t kill him did she?” Harlan replied.

“There’s still time.” you quipped back “and if he ever puts his hand on another omega, I’ll rip his dick off turn it into a toad and ram it down his throat.”

Harlan chuckled as you sauntered in one of your hands around Ransom’s throat as you pulled him alongside you, your broom in the other and you bag across your body.

You tossed him onto the rug in the fancy hall way.

“He’s bewitched isn’t he?” Harlan asked.

“Why didn’t you ask Zelda or Hilda for help?”

“I wasn’t sure, my grandson is many things, including an asshole, but his behaviour has been more out of control.”

“He’s always been a piece of shit.” Came a voice, you weren’t sure who’s.

“Can you help him?” Came another voice.

“I can.”

“How much witch?” came the voice of Ransom’s father, followed by money being thrown at you.

You huffed and shook your head, turning and leaving. You heard Harlan call someone an idiot as you flew away on your broom.

You were back three days later after Ransom had got handsy with you in the supermarket of all places. You’d left your groceries, grabbed him by his underwear and flown him back via his wedgey and your broom. You tossed him around the garden, blessed the fountain and chucked him in.

Harlan and his nurse had watched from the library window, highly amused, especially as you pulled him out, tapped his face lightly and whispered whatever it was that made the colour drain from his face.

A week later, albeit still a bit of a dickhead, Ransom had very publicly apologised, paid for any medical bills and damages he’d caused. Much to the town’s amusement he’d also taken to following you around like a lost pup, lots of “I’m sorry” and with random expensive gifts in his hand. Your response was to spin him around and push him in the other direction with your powers.

“I think he might be trying to court you.” Hilda had giggled.

“Well he can court himself.”

Sure he was attractive but he knew it and he was still a bit of a dickhead. But they was something familiar about his face and the blue of his eyes.

Harlan had come again to ask for your appearance at Halloween and the white wolf side of you decided it was time to strike a deal.

The agreement was as follows

He was to keep Ransom out your way.

He was to pay you the agreed fee.

He was to pay Zelda and Hilda the same fee.

He went to speak and you could tell from his scent and expression he wasn’t initially going to agrue.

You explained quickly and assertively that Ransom couldn’t be getting in your way if you were to be ‘working’ of sorts. If that’s what you called parlour tricks and being a token. You were to be paid the going rate and so were Hilda and Zelda as normal. You wouldn’t have a job or roof over your head if it wasn’t for them, and they’d talked you into it (or so you’d told Harlan). You may have also caught sight of the shop accounts and how limited the rest of the year was income wise. They had an influx of pups and being out of sync because of a war wasn’t their fault.

“It’s that or nothing” you’d told him firmly, “but you could always go to an agency but you could end up with one of Agatha’s strays.”

You turned and walked away head held high. Harlan had called after you.

“I’ll have the contracts sent over.”

And overall, being a token witch wasn’t that bad after all. Their friends and extended were also rich assholes but you could handle it. Your bank balance was better off, you were healthier with your better quality suppressants but not sleeping in your car was a hard habit to break and it was still often the easy option when hotels didn’t take roamers.

Ransom had slipped the keys to a new car into your hand as you’d been packing your bags in their guest wing. You told him you couldn’t accept it but he simply closed your hand around the keys, looked at you you with sad eyes and walked away.

You’d attempted that evening to give them to Harlan but he’d explained that material things were their way of apology. He’d followed it by pushing an envelope towards you, after you’d pointed out he’d paid you already and he had nothing to apologise for. He’d told you it was an early Christmas gift. Somewhere to go at Christmas.

He’d never admit it but he’d shed a tear when you’d told him about your childhood. He’d pulled a picture from his office drawer, hidden between paperwork and looked at it fondly.

“You were right Fi, she’s special. Nearly as special as you.”

The gift in the envelope was a ten days stay in a fancy as hell hotel. You weren’t going home for Christmas and you were completely fine with that.

Meanwhile in Brooklyn...........

It was too loud, everything was too loud. Cars, the subway, Mrs Jones at 32b, the list was endless.

Steve watched as Bucky stirred in the armchair again, his features screwing to a grimace and his surviving arm starting to twitch. Another nightmare. He looked down at the letter in his hand for what was probably the hundredth time.

“With no other surviving family members, you are the the sole and only beneficiary of the estate. Your uncle, Grant Rogers, thus leaves you his properties listed below. The primary being the Brookville farm.”

His attention was pulled to Bucky as he whimpered again in his sleep and he made his way towards him.

He didn’t noticed his phone light up with a message.

Natasha - You know………Clint grew up on a farm

#alpha steve rogers x reader #alpha steve rogers #avengers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #alpha steve x omega reader #steve rogers x witch reader #bucky barnes

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