#nomad!steve angst

[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

#captain america #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #nomad steve x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fluff #captain america x female reader #nomad steve smut #navy and roo's sleepover #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #navy and roo sleepover #steve rogers imagine #steven grant rogers #dom steve #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #frostironfudge #chris evans x female reader #christopher robert evans #cevans

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key. 

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding. 

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone. 

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him. 

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him. 

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls. 

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright. 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van. 

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows. 

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg. 

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth. 

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away. 

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.” 

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?” 

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard. 

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #nomad steve #nomad steve x reader #nomad!steve x reader #steve rogers #nomad!steve #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers reader insert #chris evans #marvel #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel reader insert #avengers reader insert #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #avengers fic #shuri #steve rogers angst #marvel fluff

[cevansbaby-dove]

The Best Birthday Gift part 2

Pairing:Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Nothing but hurt and a touch of fluff.

You woke up the next morning to steve's arm draped over your stomach. You smile as you watch him sleep.

You lean over and kiss his cheek then climb out of bed and your legs are like jelly so you land on your butt. thud!

Steve sits up fast. "Who's there!?" He looks around you and hold your hand up. "It's just me..sorry" You push yourself up and sit on the bed. "You did a number on me Cap"

Steve moves over to you. "here I got ya"

You place your hand on his shoulder as you stand and he grabs your hips so you don't fall. "Good morning baby"

You smile. "hi handsome man" He kisses you and says. "So um..will we get questions about this?"

You smile. "Maybe but if they ask us anything we just say I fell asleep in your bed..."

Steve helps you to your room down the hall and he says. "We could be more then a one time thing if you want...I mean..uh..i'm down for it"

You turn and lean on the door frame. "I'll think about it Rogers, thanks again for last night"

He kisses you and says. "See you down there" You close your eyes feeling his beard lightly touch your cheek.

"yes sir" He smiles and walks away. You sigh and walk into your bed room and grab shorts and a shirt and put it on and you take your pill and walk down to the kitchen and Steve is talking to Tony. "Well how was your birthday y/n?" You hear tony ask you as you walk in with a slight smile.

"Good" You grab a cup and Steve is next to you and he whispers in your ear. "I still remember how your mouth tastes"

Tony look up from his newspaper. "What was that?" You turn around. 'Nothing um..the coffee doesn't taste good to Steve"

You smack his arm lightly then he says. "ok ok sorry" He hears Nat and Wanda walk into the kitchen.

"Morning ladies" Nat hugs you. "ugh we are the worst friends ever! I am so so sorry we couldn't be there yesterday"

You smile as you hug her than Wanda. "it's alright girls we will make time in a few days for our day out"

Steve coughs lightly making you look at him with a smirk. "Come on girls we should hang out"

Tony says. 'She and Rogers came in soaked last night they were out in the storm, thank God my rug is clean now"

Nat looks at Steve. "Oh God are you two sick now?" You shake your head. "No we're fine nat" You grab the girls hands and walk away before Steve can say anything.

Steve sighs watching you walk away. Tony says. "What's up Cap?" Steve shakes his head. "Nothing Tony" He takes a sip of his coffee then says. "can I ask you something?"

"Sure man, what's up?" Tony sits at the counter. Steve leans on the counter. "It's about y/n" Tony sighs. "You two fucked didn't you?" Steve's eyes go wide. "Language Tony!"

"well? Didn't you? You know the walls aren't thin..." Steve feels his cheeks go red even under his beard he still blushes. "Well uh...we uh.." he rubs his neck feeling awkward. "yes..."

Tony smiles. "About damn time You found her that way!" Steve blinks. "What?" "She's been super flirty with you and you always looked past that...I'm happy for you Rogers"

You and The girls sit on your bed and Nat says. "So what did you two do?" You smile. "um well we went out for a nice dinner then we went bowling and girls he needs help learning! he thought hitting one pin was a strike! and I won the bowling"

You laugh. "Um then we came back and I wanted to stay in the storm and he asked me to dance with him..."

Wanda says. "In the rain!?" Nat says. "Oh my God that's sweet!!" You giggle. 'yes um then he uh kissed me and the end!"

Nat gives you a questioning look. 'THE END!? Just one kiss and that's it? Y/N...are you hiding something from us?"

You shake your head. "No...I mean uh...I don't um.." Wanda says. "She is hiding something! Come tell us girl!" You laugh. "We had sex?"

Wanda and nat's jaws drop and you say. "it's only one time we are still friends...."

Wanda says. "friends!? how the fuck are you friends after you two...you two...fucked!?"

Nat says. "Friends....with benefits! Oh my God it's about time someone had him rail someone!"

You say. "Sh! tony doesn't know about it..please do not tell him"

Wanda says. "Oh yeah no we won't tell him right Nat?" Nat glances at Wanda smirking. "Won't tell him" You look at them and say. "You two suck at lying"

Nat says. "And you suck at keeping secrets" You smile. "Well..I wasn't sure if Steve wanted to have it out about last night..but I can't lie to my girlssss" You pull them in for a hug and giggle.

Steve hears you girls walk out of the room and your eyes meet and you send him a warm smile and Tony turns in his chair and says. "Oh hello y/n Steve tells me how great your birthday was"

You look at Steve and say. "Um..excuse me?" Tony pours himself a drink and nods. "Hmm hm the walls aren't thin" You feel your face turn red and Wanda says. "Damn I thought we only knew about you two...wow"

Steve says. "ok ok back off all of you please. This was just a one time thing it's not going to happen again." he walks to you."Right?"

You stood there frozen, you loved him but then again the words that just came out of steve's mouth didn't make it sound like he felt the same about you...You bite your lip holding back tears and say. "ri...right it's nothing"

Nat says. "Rogers! why the fuck would you say something like that?" You shake your head and walk out of the kitchen. "What did I say?' Steve said.

Nat sighs. "you just hurt her feelings saying it's nothing..damn man learn us girls! we don't do that just out of lust!"

She storms away and you hear her say behind you. "Sorry about him" You wipe away tears and say. "he's right...it's nothing big..it's just a hook up...nothing more"

Nat sighs. "y/n I can tell when someone is in love and you really do love him don't you?" You nod then face her. "but clearly he doesn't feel the same way"

You scoff. "Just let me be alone" Nat places her hand on your shoulder. "i'm here if you ever need" You nod. "Thanks but I want to be alone" She nods and walks away.

You walk into the training room and grab a gun and think maybe staying sharp will take your mind off of last night..

Bang Goes the gun. Steve's lust filled eyes flash into your mind. You press your lips together loading the gun again. Bang!

You remember how he kissed your neck. You roll your eyes. "Y/n get it together!" you said out loud.

Steve's eyes were on you and you didn't have to turn around to know that. "Come here to say how what we did last night didn't mean anything to you?" You shot another round.

Steve shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't think you felt that way about me" You set the gun down and turn to face him.

"Your right Steve...I guess you fucked me just to feel something uh? well don't worry it won't happen again"

You turn to walk away from him when he lightly grabs you arm.

Your eyes meet his and he says."Y/n last night was incredible but it can't happen again, we can't... it was a mistake to do that"

You say. "a mistake!? Oh I'm sorry if I fucked up your night by being nice to you! jesus Christ fine you know what!? I'm done...I am so done being nice to you now let go of me before I hurt you"

Steve drops his hand. You then say. "Stay away from me from now on!" You walk out and tell Tony, "i'm going out I can't stand it here!" You grab your car keys and Tony says. "Lovers fighting?" You turn. "we aren't lovers tony! Steve said it himself its was a mistake"

You slam the door and get into your car and drive away fast.

Last that day Steve gets a call from someone.

"hello?'

"is this Steve Rogers?"

"yes who is this?"

"My name is Kathy um someone here got into a crash and said to call you her name is y/n...do you know her?" Steve grabs his car keys and rushes out of the tower. "Is she ok?"

"Yes she was t-boned by a drunk but she's on her way to the ER" Steve gets into his car and says. "i'm on my way now thank you" the lady says. "you're welcome"

Steve drives away at a fast speed and lets the team know what happened and Nat says. "We're on our way too oh God did the lady say if y/n was hurt badly??"

"She didn't say God I hope she's ok" Steve runs a red light and then gets to the ER 20 minutes later. He rushes through the sliding doors and looks around. No sign of you anywhere.

Steve walks to the front desk and asks about you and if you were brought in yet. "Yes she is in the ICU she has a few broken ribs and major head trauma."

Steve takes off for the ICU he was now panicking that you might not make it.

Steve walks through doors and then sees the word ICU in a big letters. He makes a mad dash to the doors and sees a Doctor. "Hi um I'm looking for y/n l/n, she was in a car accident."

The doctor nods. "She's in surgery right now she had to be rushed in" Steve's eyes fill up with tears God he was beyond worried about you now.

Steve sits down in the waiting room hoping and praying you'd pull through this.

A/n:Oh no! Reader is in the ICU!! 😱 What will happen next!? Give me your guesses in the comments below :)

Tags:@cutedisneygrl @nicoline1998enilocin @patzammit @armystay89 @bookishtheaterlover7 @eva-knits12 @katherineswritingsblog

#nomad steve #steve au #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steven grant rogers #chris evans fluff #chris evans character #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans headcanon #chris evans characters #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans one shot #chris evans series #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Sweet Pea - Steve Rogers x Reader

Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus) - Meaning: Thank you for a lovely time, farewell

Summary: While on the run, Steve comes to reader for comfort. What starts as a series of one night stands turns into so much more.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Steve leaving notes and being sweet, domestic fluff, dirty notes and drawings, the Blip, angst, Steve freaking out

Day 14 brings us some fluffy angst with our favorite Nomad!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You kept the notes squirreled away in a small box in the back of your sock drawer. Steve always left one, using whatever scrap of paper was nearby. After the first few notes you’d taken to keeping post-its and a pen on your nightstand, which he used from then on to leave you his sweet farewells. 

The first few notes were stiff, formal, things like ‘Thank you for a lovely time, Sincerely Yours, Steve’ or ‘I truly appreciate you, Best, Steve’ like he was thanking you for picking up his dry cleaning rather than letting him fuck you into next week. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d only come by your safe house after dark and would leave almost right after you passed out. The more times he visited, the more comfortable he got and the longer he would linger. Sometimes you’d wake up in the wee hours with him spooning you, snoring adorably, but he’d always be gone by morning, a note left for you stuck to your coffee maker, a full pot already made. 

He was sweet like that. 

‘Thanks for last night. You’re incredible. <3 Steve’

‘I’ll miss you, but I won’t be gone long. <3 Steve’

‘See you soon, beautiful. <3 Steve’ 

The little doodled heart next to his name made your heart stutter. 

His visits became more frequent, from once every few months to once a month to every other week or so. More often than not, you woke up next to him. The first time that happened you’d shaken him awake, afraid he was late to something or needed to go. He’d smiled his classically handsome smile and simply folded you back into his arms. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while yet.” 

A while yet turned out to be two full days with Steve. At first, you weren’t sure about his presence in your house, thinking he’d be bored out of his mind, but he found some home projects you’d been neglecting and did as much as he could in the time he had. The domesticity of it all was a new kind of intimacy that neither of you were familiar with, so there were some awkward moments trying to figure out each other's routines and particularities. But once that initial adjustment period was over, everything felt…natural.

You feared this would be the end of his sweet little notes, but instead of the end the notes started popping up everywhere. Sometimes it was a flirtatious note, sometimes a quick drawing of something silly or pornographic or a reference to something he now understood thanks to your pop culture tutelage. 

‘I love your tits in that top ;)’

‘Meet me upstairs when you’re done in the garden’

‘I definitely didn't use the last of the milk, it was a ghost. Who ya gonna call?’ 

The drawing he did of you pegging a suspiciously Steve-shaped Deadpool was probably your favorite. That one got taped to the fridge. 

While he was on the run, you were more than happy to provide him a safe place. His touchstone when he needed a reminder that he was still a human being. A place where he could fully shed the fugitive mantle and act like a normal person. 

He gets the call from Nat while he’s rehanging drywall in your upstairs bathroom. They needed him to get to Edinburgh, some weird readings were coming through whatever scanners she had. You were at the grocery store, so he grabbed the post-its from his side of the bed and wrote a note. 

‘Got a call from Nat, gotta go save the world again <3 Love you, Steve’

He stuck it where he’d be sure you’d find it, on the fridge, next to the naughty drawing that you loved, and made sure to lock the door when he left. 

A few days later, the truck he’d commandeered screeched to a halt in your driveway. His heart pounded in his chest as he thudded up the porch steps and threw his shoulder into your front door, busting it open — he’d fix it later, he had to know. 

He called your name and ran from room to room, searching for you desperately. Half the world was gone, and he couldn’t waste another second without knowing if you were one of them. 

He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose you too. 

Up in your bedroom he found his answer. On the bed, spread all over his side of it, were all the notes he’d written you. On your side, nothing but a hint of dust. His legs went numb, but they managed to bring him to the end of the bed before he collapsed, gripping the duvet and some of his wayward notes. 

Steve couldn’t hold back anymore, so he let the tears fall pitifully — first Bucky, then Wanda, Sam, T’Challa, so, so many others. And now, you were gone too. The one person who could have possibly helped him hold together what was left, had already done that once before after his schism with Stark. He’d come to you shattered and slowly, carefully, you’d glued him back together. 

“Steve?” your quiet voice asked. At first, he didn’t move, convinced he was hearing things until he felt your small hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer before he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his wet face in your stomach. More tears fell, but these were from relief. 

“You’re alive,” he chanted, voice muffled by your tummy. You shushed him gently, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m here, Steve,” you promised, “I’ll always be here.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #mcu fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #the blip #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x you #fluff #angst

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

☾ @mellowsaturns

☼ No Place Like Home

⭒ a sweet moment with steve when you come home tired and sleepy

☼ Make A Wish

⭒ it's steve's birthday so you give him a present or two… maybe three.

☾ @espinosaurusrexex

☼ Watchful Eyes

⭒ When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #hes pathetic. hes a freak. hes a blonde. hes a whore. hes hopeless. hes a war criminal. hes a special boy #mob!steve rogers #mob!steve x reader #nomad steve rogers make me feral

[sarahrogersevans]

Came Back For You- Nomad Steve Rogers xreader Fan Fic

Summary: Steve came back home from Wakanda to see Y/N because he missed her and didn’t wanna be away from her any longer

Warnings: angsty and fluffy, mild swearing, not many warnings

~Steve’s POV~

I was really glad to be coming back home to see Y/N though being in Wakanda was amazing but I didn’t wanna be away from Y/N anymore, I missed waking up next to her every morning. I got to her apartment after Bucky dropped me off and he looked at me and said “are you sure coming back here is a good idea Steve? If anyone sees we’re back we’ll be arrested.” I got my bag and walked out of the quinjet and patted Bucky on the shoulder and said “don’t worry Buck just go and lay low somewhere we’ll figure this out I’ll see you later ok?” Bucky nodded and closed the door to the quinjet and I watched him fly off and went inside Y/N’s apartment building and found her apartment number and knocked on the door hoping she still lived here. I haven’t seen her in a year and I was really nervous that she might not remember me or that she would be with someone else by now.

~Y/N’s POV~

*Knock Knock Knock*

Oh, who’s that?? I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over to my place tonight, I got up from the couch and went to answer the door and I was shocked when I saw who was at the door. “Oh my god!.. Steve?! What are you doing here???” Steve smiled at me and said “Hey doll, I missed you and came back for you. It’s so good to see you Y/N you are as beautiful as I remember.” I hugged Steve and said “I missed you so much Steve, I’m so glad you’re home by the way I love your beard it looks so good on you.” Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck and said “oh yea? I think I look like a mess but I’m glad you like it sweetheart.” I smiled and Steve moved closer to me and said “I hope it’s ok that I wanna kiss you?” I cupped his face in my hands and said “yea of course it is Steve I miss your kisses.” Steve leaned in more and kissed me and I got pinned against the wall and Steve whispered “I worried coming here that.. you’d move on after I left and that I’d lose you but I’m glad I didn’t doll you’re my everything and I love you I never forgot about you, I missed waking up to you every morning.” I cried and hugged him not wanting to let him go. “I never moved on Steve.. I never wanted anyone else I love you, you’re the love of my life I’ll always be here I promise you ok?” Steve kissed me and said “This is why I love you Y/N, I’m never letting you go again and no matter what it takes nothing will keep me away from you I swear.” We just stood in the middle of the living room hugging like we were never apart I loved having Steve back in my life and I’m glad he felt the same.

I couldn’t get over how amazing Steve looked with his long hair and his beard, I ran my fingers through his hair and he looked into my eyes and said “what are you thinking about honey?” I smiled and said “I just really love your long hair and your beard, I love your new look, I’m glad you’re home Steve I really missed you.” Steve kissed my forehead and said “I’m never leaving again I promise doll I’m here.”

I was getting tired and Steve noticed and said “why don’t we lay down on the couch Y/N, you need the rest.” I nodded after yawning and he helped me sit down with him and I laid my head on his chest and cuddled up close to him and said “Steve.. I’m scared if I close my eyes that you’ll be gone.” Steve rubbed my back and said “don’t be scared doll I’m gonna be right here the whole time, take a nap ok? I love you.” I felt better after he pulled me closer and I closed my eyes to Steve playing with my hair gently.

Hey lovelies!!! I thought I would do a Nomad Steve fan fic 😁💙 I hope you all enjoy xx

Taglist:

@lokiandbuckysdoll

@jessybarnes

@chrisevansdaughter

@writersblog20

@delicatecoffeepeanut

@sunshine-on-my-mind

@anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount

@vrittivsanghavi

@imyourbratzdoll

@marvelstarker-mha98

@acklesgurl-love

@nana1000night

#chris evans #fluff #fanfics #nomad steve #nomad steve fan fiction #avengers infinity war #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fluff xreader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers xreader #captain america #steve rogers xreader fluff #steve rogers fanfic #angst fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steverogersedit #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fic #chris evans character #chris evans characters #steve rogers x y/n

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair ~ Chip and a Chair (Epilogue Pt. 2)

Epilogue Pt. 2

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: Bad language words.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 1.3K

A/N: This is it! Steve and Ace's story has come to an end, I have enjoyed sharing their story with you! It's been a really long journey, and I love this series, it has been bittersweet to write these last few parts. I digress, I hope you enjoy this chapter and have enjoyed the series!

Bucky sat at Steve’s desk, massaging the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tense. Everything was finally starting to run smoothly, it had been utter chaos when he had returned to New York without Steve. He knew the job was hard and Steve shouldered most of the weight of the stress and responsibility. Bucky supposed he really hadn’t understood how much Steve truly shielded them from; how much he handled on his own. 

Although business had been running smoother now, he couldn’t take credit for it, not even Sam or Wanda had taken the reins. But Queens, he stepped up without hesitation, gave orders with a confidence Bucky had only seen in him within the last year: when it had to do with Ace.

The kid was turning out to be a miniature version of Steve, but somehow better. Queens was merciful and soft, unless it dealt with the men, he gave orders that didn’t leave room for rebuttals. Was a bit of a hard-ass, especially with him and Sam, but he valued what they had to say. Taking their expertise into consideration, he respected them, they were family, but business was business and he was very no nonsense about it.

The knock at the office door shook him from his thoughts. Wanda stepped into the room, auburn hair gathered over one shoulder, long and unbound. A resigned look in her eyes, they were all exhausted, they missed their boss; their brother.

A small smile reluctantly pulled at her lips, “The desk job doesn't suit you…”

The glimmer of playfulness giving the smallest amount of light to her eyes, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

She nods slowly, walking closer as she places the daily mail in front of him on the desk, she sighs. “I can think of a good replacement,” her brows raise in emphasis, eyes shifting to the open door.

Bucky shakes his head, “When Steve gets back he can promote the kid,” sifting through the envelopes, one with his name scrawled across the front without any addresses catches his eye.

“It’s been a year Bucky…”

He holds up his metal hand, face hardening, “Who delivered the mail?”

Wanda shrugs, “I’m not sure it was on the front desk when I arrived. Why?”

His name is elegantly scrawled on the front, his heart thundered in his chest, he isn't familiar with the penmanship. Inside, is a postcard, the picture on the front is of a couple, the angle off kilter, a little blurry, like the camera is being swatted away. A delicate female hand blocks most of the view of their faces. His stomach folds, he can make out two sets of very familiar eyes. The glint of a silver band is seen on the inside of her hand, circling her ring finger. Flipping the postcard he is met with familiar handwriting that he’s known for most of his life: 

Buck,  I don’t know what to say. I could tell you ‘I am sorry’ but that would be a lie. What I can say is, I’m fine. More than that actually, I’m happy. If it wasn’t clear, I won't be coming back, the business is all yours pal. I trust you to do the right thing. Don’t bother looking for me, as far as the world knows, Steve Rogers is dead. I hope all is well with the family.  Love you Buck, Punk. P.s Angel says ‘Hello, Boinky’ and to ‘quit wallowing in self hatred and regret.’ 

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky breathes. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips or the near hysterical laugh that bursts from his chest. Wanda’s eyes widen as she pulls the card from his grasp, fresh tears prick at her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

“He found her?” She whispers.

Bucky quiets himself, pulling the wild card from his pocket. “I had my suspicions… She left this for me, knowing I’d understand what it meant.”

Wanda slaps at his arm, “You didn’t think you should tell us?!”

He chuckles, “I had to be sure. Now, I am sure.”

She huffs, a smile breaking across her face, “You’re a bastard Barnes.” Her tone is everything but serious as she rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back to the postcard.

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Sam knocking on the open office door, “You got a visitor Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not now.”

Sam raises his brows, pursing his lips, “Yeah good luck with that.”

A blonde enters the room, he had run into her many times in the past, but didn’t consider her a friend.

“Detective Carter.” He greeted her coolly, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiled deviously, “I thought I would stop by and offer a bit of information…” she pauses sucking her teeth, badge glistening on her hip as she sways, “let’s just say, if something happened to Steve’s business and his family, I’d make an enemy out of a very good friend.”

Bucky raised a brow, but remained silent.

“So Barnes, I’m here to tell you to keep a keen eye on yourself and your men, and if you need anything, just give me a call.”

The detective and right hand to the dealer blinked at him in boredom, she was deadly, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder why she worked for Zemo, what had caused her to become a dirty cop. For now he would play nice, he knew he should be thanking you for ensuring no more blood was shed, but he didn’t trust any of them for a second.

He nodded, rising from his seat, offering the detective his hand. She took it, “I look forward to working with you Detective Carter.” 

Her smile again split her lips, it surprised something deep within him that her teeth weren’t filed into dagger-like points, “Likewise Mr. Barnes.”

She turned from him and began leaving, but stopped abruptly, “Oh, and by the way, Fury told me the FBI is sending in a team from Boston: Nicknamed Bull and White, also known as The Sharks. They specialize in putting your kind behind bars.”

Turning she blew him a kiss, “Goodluck.”

Sam and Wanda share a look, but Sam clears his throat, “No better time to test the kid’s resolve than now…”

“We’d be throwing him into the lion’s den!” Bucky snapped, running his hand through his hair.

“He’ll do fine Buck, he’s got us.” Sam pushes.

As if on cue, Peter walks into the room, “was that Detective Carter?”

His voice falters, taking in the group now staring at him.

Bucky takes a deep breath, “So Boss, what’s our next move?”

Peter only hesitates for a second before a smile curves his lips, “I think we need to speak with our new friends Pepper, Zemo, and Yelena before we move forward.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile on his face, “You heard him, call a meeting. No one steps foot in this city without us knowing about it.”

Sam and Wanda move to leave the room, “And for fucks sake, find out who these jokers Bull and White are!”

As Bucky leaves, Peter stops him, “You think I can handle it?”

Bucky shakes his head, “better than anyone I know kid…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. Though Peter and his relationship has mended little by little, it would never be what it was before Ace crashed into their lives. “They’d be proud of you kid. Hell, I’m proud of you and with you every step of the way.”

A smile curved Peter’s lips, “be my Right Hand?”

“For you? Anything. You want this public?”

Peter shook his head, “no, not yet. Let them think you took over in Steve’s absence. But when the time is right…”

Bucky nodded in understanding, Yelena may have taken over Thor’s territory, Pepper may have taken Tony’s place, they may all be getting along now, but people would still come from all over to stake their claim.

There were always bigger fish, and now there was blood in the water.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel au #marvel #bucky #avengers #steve and bucky #captain america #all is fair in... #all is fair au #mafia!steve rogers #mob! steve rogers #mafia au #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #nomad steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x y/n #mafia!bucky #assassin reader #assassin!reader #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #captain rogers #captain america x reader #mafia!steve #fem reader

[anika-ann]

Fought the World (for Your Hand) - S.R.

Type: drabble-ish, post Civil War canon divergence, established relationship

Pairining: (nomad) Steve Rogers x reader      Word count: 1600

Summary: Coming back after all that happened isn’t easy. To get pardoned is harder than one might think.

The Accords are being revised and the Avengers are back to business. But some damage cannot be undone. 

Warnings: mentions of bad parenting, angst & fluff, allusions to smut (if you squint)

A/N: works as a standalone, but technically is a one big ‘what if’ Sparkles and Steve (Love on the Brain) went through events of Civil War - based on THIS ASK; divider by firefly-graphics 😍; lyrics (shortened) from SYML’s Body

I want to love like a man I’ll build you a home when I can I fought the world for your hand

Coming back isn’t easy.

It isn’t seamless – there are smidges on the canvas of friendship and heroism and tears at the edges - but you are back.

And the story behind your return might make angels weep, or perhaps at least renew your faith in humanity as a whole. Your return seems to stand on the goodness of a human heart and the strength of broad shoulders of the man closest to Atlas the world has ever known.

Steve Rogers and a handful of his friends have been turned into criminals when they refused the Accords, some of them imprisoned – after a parody of a trial – in a federal prison that wasn’t on any map. And yet, broken out of this cage resembling the worst of nightmares, the so-called criminals continued to do good.

Silently. Without seeking recognition; because even bittered, goodness was in their blood.

And people noticed. People spoke up. A tiny law practice from the depth of Hell’s Kitchen helped to voice the concerns about the Accords and about the injustice served.

Defying all laws of the Universe, the governments of the world heard them out.

The Accords are being revised. Meanwhile, you’re all pardoned.

The Earth’s mightiest misfits are together again.  

Crimes forgiven, but not forgotten. Some agree with this – some don’t.

You scoff as you wipe away your tears; disappointed, angry, heartbroken.

It’s not fair, but it is what it is. It figures your parents would belong to the latter group.

The prodigal daughter returned and they didn’t give a damn. You guess it serves you right; as long as you were catching serial killers and creeps, as long as you locked up whom everyone perceived as a bad guy, you were theirs.

Once your husband became the criminal, as did you, you were none. Even after the American damn government did the closest thing to admitting a mistake.

It’s not fair but it is what it is.

And still, you weep.

You feel him before you hear him, even if the life on the run taught you paranoia; your body knows his, every inch, tangible or not; his breath, his smell, his soft footsteps. And your brain knows you’re safe with him, as does your heart.

The way the bed dips under his weight. His strong arms, his calloused palms. The warmth of his skin, the scratch of his beard.

He embraces you and you follow, his presence as magnetic as it was long before you confessed your love. Always gravitating closer, never out of reach – inevitability.

Steve Rogers, shoulders as strong as a god itself and with more love for your little life than one, holds you to his chest and lets you soak his chest in tears, gently rocking you back and forth, fingers tender as they caress your back, stark contrast to yours fisting his shirt.

The guilt rolls off him in waves, but he wills those to be gentle as they reach the coast of your sorrowful heart. He swallows his anger at people who should always stand by you, your own blood. You can feel it burning through him, but he doesn’t voice his rage.

He holds you, an unrelenting silent force.

You don’t utter a word either.

Having been ones to talk things through eventually before, you have perfected understanding each other without words during your time on the run. In the motels that never really slept, between drunken shouts, lustful cries and thoughts screaming louder than actual words, silence was a luxury. One that not even Steve's arms could always provide.

But it does work now.

You let it all out, until you have no tears to shed anymore, until the raft of emotions settles at a shore, safely brought back home; a solid home, built from cells, tissue and blood instead of bricks, roofed under a beautiful soul the world tried to tear to shreds so many times.

Steve gently combs your hair back as he feels your breathing change, your tension melt away. Only when you tip your head back, finding the sea of his eyes glassy with an unshed tear or two, he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart."

It makes you sad; and you’re outraged. Yet, you’re in love, still.

A small smile plays in the corner of your mouth as you squint at him, a little playful.

“Don't you give me that face, GG,” you reprimand him softly, causing the worried wrinkle on his forehead to deepen, before his right eyebrow arches.

“What, I cannot be sorry that you're hurting?”

There’s an unhappy note in his teasing. You brush your fingers over his creased forehead, long fingers catching your hand to cradle it gently.

“You, GG, can be anything. Even mine.”

He sighs, gaze tenderer than before, a promise – and he seems to think it is more of a life sentence – on his lips.

“I am. Always. And I am sorry,” he whispers and it would be foolish to doubt the truth behind his words.

You know this.

You understand.

But you don’t fully agree.

People who turn their back on you like your parents did do not deserve to weigh on his already heavy conscience.  

“I know. So am I. But I don't blame you. Or me,” you say, swallowing the creak in your voice; because you believe this.

And he has to learn to do the same.

You know he doesn’t yet; but it’s a journey. It’s a journey for you too, because losing your parents to this hurts, god, does it hurt. But you know you’re right.

“I did what I could. Once we were back, I did reach out. They refused. That's on them. I tried, even after they dragged my name – your name – through the mud, spitted on it and even looked like they enjoyed it.”

Anger laces your voice at the injustice, at the betrayal, and you can hear the stitches on Steve’s wounded heart cry with effort to keep the precious muscle together.

The guilt, the pain, the rage – you can read it in his face as it all peaks, but you charm a smile and the barely-there movement of your lips magically makes you feel better, and maybe it helps him too. It definitely feels better when you turn your hand in his and squeeze lightly, thumb running over his scarred knuckles.

He fought so much in his life that not even the serum could handle it anymore.

Maybe the scars that remained were from punching ghosts and mirages, intangible things that didn’t bleed and couldn’t be fully bested when he tried to beat them anyway.

“Sparkles-“

You shake your head to stop him; you’re not done.

You hurting was not the message – you both know that already.

“But bless their heart, they got one thing right,” you continue as he watches you, eyes large pools of sadness and adorable confusion that takes ten years from his real age despite the beard he has been sporting since your days as fugitives.

A large man with a beard and a heart of gold; the original nomad.

“They talked shit, but they never said you led me astray. They blamed my decision on me,” you say slowly, freeing your hand from his to rake your fingers through the tickly beard, fingertips brushing over his lips when you feel him suck in a breath – no, you are still talking. He kisses your fingers tenderly, understanding this; patient. “I went with you and took your side because I was and am yours, yes. But also because it was what I believed in. And I don’t regret it, Steve.”

You see his Adam’s apple bob as his eyes avoid looking into yours, a shudder running through his body; and as a consequence, it does through yours too, because you’re still in his lap, side to chest, face to face, skin to skin. Lover to lover; best friend to best friend, even if Bucky would maybe have a thing or two to say about that.

The thought makes you smile wider as you push slightly against Steve’s jaw to make him meet your gaze.

Because this is important. This is the most important part.

“You're not responsible for my choices. Even if you're one of them,” you whisper and his hands squeeze you tight as his face shines with affection; love renewed, as if it has ever been gone.

And it wasn’t. It just built and built and sometimes you wonder if it can ever grow higher than the Tower of Babel; one that withstands a fury of man and gods alike.

“I love you.”

Simple as that; three little words and yet two of them would be enough. I and you. You and I. Together.  

“I love you too,” you say back, fingers moving to sink into his long strands. A handsome man he is, your husband. Complicated, but so simple in his principles. You circle back. “So... you know. Don't give me that face.”

He huffs a silent chuckle when he realizes what you mean – that feeling sorry is okay, but misplaced guilt is not – and his lips find yours, tasting of sunshine, gratitude and adoration.

He kisses you deep. He gives and he takes, and he lays you down on your bed, pouring all his feelings – feelings that seem larger than himself and he is already of impressive size, as you like to remind him – into his lips and hands, to cover you with all the love you deserve.

He cannot fix the mess he made. He never could, as desperately as he wished to.

But he can be here. He can give you his everything; build you a new home, a new family, helping you forget the sorrow of your stolen one. It isn’t exactly a hardship he will undergo unwillingly. Less so when your body melts into his, your affection tangling with his own.

All he can do for you is to be yours.

And he will.

And he will thank every day to whoever is up there that despite all odds, you are his.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist (if you’re interested in who inspired this dynamics)

It sometimes happens that an ask triggers this, when the stars align... even though I don’t take requests 😅 

Thank you for reading 🥰 Feedback is life ✨

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #nomad Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #fought the world #anika ann

[gxrlcinema]

dear maria, count me in | 🖋

Steve + “you always push people away. i just thought you’d never do it to me”

A/n: This can be read as a prequel to this drabble if you're so inclined

Warning: mentions of somewhat graphic violence

killer

Steve finds you on the balcony of the room T’Challa always puts the gang up in on visits like this. You’re straddling one of the bars of the railing, legs dangling out over Birini Zana, your hands at your side. You’d been in the same position the last time he checked in on you three hours ago. 

“I brought you some dinner,” he says, holding out the plate he brought. 

You don’t say anything, don’t even move. Steve’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. He makes his way across the balcony to your side, carefully moving to sit at your side, the plate between you.

“I don’t really know what it is but it’s really good.”

You nod, so minute even Steve’s enhanced eyesight could miss it. You don’t move to face him or to take the food. Steve’s fingers twitch uselessly at his side. He runs a hand through his hair to hide it. His chest aches. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

He watches the line of your neck bob, your red-rimmed eyes staring off, a thousand yards away from him. When you do finally say something, your voice is barely there.

“Do you still want me?”

Steve’s muscles tense at the question, almost a flinch. He sighs like Atlas.

“I love you,” he says. 

You nod. Steve watches the tension build in the line of your back. 

“Are you kicking me off the team?”

His eyes widen. “Christ, Y/n. Do you really think I’d abandon you after you went rogue for me?” He studies your profile and, finding you to be quite serious, he adds, “I still want you on my team.”

“Just not in your bed,” you say, like it’s a fact. “Not anymore.”

Steve’s jaw clicks. His hands curl into fists in his lap.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That watching you slice a man’s neck open today doesn’t change anything between us?”

His gut rolls at the memory, the victorious smile on your face, the dark blood staining your hands. 

Your eyes flick over to his face, only for a moment. They’re back on the skyline before Steve can figure out what you saw there.

“He had a gun trained on you.”

“He-” Steve cuts himself off, realizing that his voice has gotten far too loud. He takes a steadying breath, training his focus back on what he came here for: you. “Please eat something?”

You don’t move again. Silence lingers.

“I told Natasha this would happen,” you sound like you’re talking about the weather. “She said I could learn but I knew I would never be like you, not when it counted.”

Steve’s voice goes hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m too lily-livered to understand what needs to be done when it’s life or death, or that I’d ever judge you for it.”

Steve’s breathing is heavy. You turn your head slowly towards him, a brow aloft. There is nothing behind your eyes. “Are you not?”

Steve is suddenly filled with the uncharacteristic urge to throttle you. His hands tear through his hair, nostrils flaring. 

“I am not judging you,” he lies. You don’t dignify that with a response. Steve huffs, shakes his head. 

“You always do this, you always push people away, Y/n!” He pulls both hands up to run them through his long hair, huffing. You don’t move. Steve sighs like Atlas again, shaking his head.

“I just thought you’d never do it to me.” 

He pushes himself up from the floor of the balcony, squeezing every emotion he has between his shoulder blades as he stalks over to the door. He’s almost back inside when he turns over his shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, eat the food.”

You don’t move. He sighs again, stepping inside and pushing the glass door to the balcony shut.

You wait until you’re sure Steve’s out of earshot before you bring your palms up against your mouth to muffle the sobs that start to break through. You don’t wait long enough. 

Steve sits on the other side of the bedroom door, using his super hearing to listen to the muffled sobs you’re trying so hard to hide from him. He buries his face in his hands and cries too.

#ilanswers #em 🦦 #ipmoshpit #ilana hits 600! #dear maria count me in 🖋 #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve x reader #steve rogers angst

[bubblessunshinehoney]

Day 17- Marking with Steve Rogers

1113 words

18 + only! NO MINOR INTERACTIONS

Kinktober masterlist

A/N: hey guys, i have to repost all of my 18 days of Kinktober for now. Because my account got suspended last night. Many of you might have read them already, and maybe many more of you might read it for the first time. I'm not someone who asks for reblogs, likes are find by me. But for this one time...i would be very grateful if you could reblog it. To help me go back in the game. I'm sad that i lost all my works. But so grateful i wrote them on Word... Or i would have lost literally months of prepration.

So yeah, Hi again, i'm back, hopping to get back my first account.

Enjoy

Cloudy

Don't be shy to comment, reblog or like! :)

TW: a bit of angst, rough and possessive sex, biting, marking, reader is also a widow. so secret agent

not beta read, english is not my first language, all mistakes are my own

Gif from: @mightyavngrsgrs

He was still on the run, sure. It was hard to see him, to see you, hard even to have one text or e-mail to know he was okay. So, when Tony invited you to his party, you said yes. It’s been two months without any news from your fugitive boyfriend. You needed to have some fun.

When you get back home, you smell him, but you’re sure that’s your brain making you trip. You miss him, sometimes asking yourself if you’re still his, if he misses you…if he even thinks of you. You let out a big sigh. Might have been a fun night, but at the end…you are alone. You love them both. Tony is by extension your boss, Pepper is a good friend and…Steve and the other your closest friends. You don’t know where to stand so you told them you won’t choose a side. They respect that, but you feel so lonely.

“Had fun?”, you jump and throw the knife that was cutting your apple in the direction of the voice. He catches it without effort. “Nice welcome home darling.”

“Fuck, Steve! You know I hate when you do that!”, you rest your hand on your heart and take a deep breath. “Did you follow me all night”.

“Had to keep an eye on my girl”, he growls.

“Oh, your girl?” you scuff and take another knife to finish your snack. “You remember I existed, so nice of you.”

He’s behind you in a matter of seconds, his large hands on your hips and his nose in your hair. “Don’t be a brat now, you know I do my best.”

You sigh. “I know, but it’s hard Steve. I’m alone.”

He chuckles, “Didn’t seem that alone tonight.” You push him away.

“That was my first night out in months you prick!” you tear up. “I’m fucking alone, okay? Not choosing side makes me unable to spend time with any of you!”

He’s holding your head softly, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. “I’m here now.”

“And then you’ll disappear again. I’m tired of this Steve.”

“So, you go out and let any men touch you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

He gets closer “I know you, I know you like the attention, wanted to make me jealous, to make me go out of the shadows…” He kisses you hard, months of being away of abstinence, of missing each other’s. you kiss him back as hard, tugging on his hair. The bastard always knows how to make you melt and forget how mad you are at him.

He carries you to bed, not wanting to fuck you in the kitchen, he needs to show his princess how much he loves her and how much she’s his. He strips you bare and gives you’re a big hickey on your neck, you squirm and moans at the sensation. You brain foggy of wants and needs. You missed him, all of him, and if he marks you as his tonight, maybe you will feel less alone when he goes away again.

He marks all your body, little and big hickeys on your skin, your scratch him hard, marking him too, he’s between your legs, feasting on your sweet nectar, kissing and flicking his tongue on your pearl, you see starts and cums one, then twice, then trice on his tongue.

He’s back up, kissing you, biting your lip, making it bleed, you do the same to him and you dig your nails on his neck and shoulders, little half moon dent on his skin, some of them bleed but none of you care. He let you stroke him, before he bottoms out in one thrust.

“STEVE!”, you feel him throb when you clench. Fuck you love when he’s fucking you bare. Happening more and more since the Accords. No time for ceremony most of the time, only quickies in dark alleys or odd motels. But tonight, he takes his time, staying balls deep, while he gives you another hickey and you do it as well.

“you’re mine, princess, understood?”

You shake your head, wanting him to destroy you and put you back together. Want him to make you his again, make you not forget about everything you went trough together.

He ruts into you, hard and slow. Make you feel every ridge and veins of his cock sliding between your walls.

“I’m gonna mark you. Gonna cum so deep inside you that you will leak me for days. Gonna cum on your chest, face and make sure you have some on you so that every man that sees you tomorrow will know that you are taken. That you are mine”

You arch your back. “Make me yours” you moan. Steve fucks your hard and deep, mating pressing you on the bed, bending you in half, breaking you and make you forget about your loneliness. You are his right now and you can let go.

He cums deep inside you after you had already another two orgasms. Five of them, not his best performance, but he’s not done, his super soldier stamina makes him hard again in one second and his back at fucking you and making you full of him.

After your seven orgasms you can’t think or moan, you throat dry and your vocals tired. You’re whimpering, holding on to him as much as you can, you muscles being laxed with all the sensations. He strokes himself above you and cums on your chest, some arriving on your chin, and you lick it, moaning faintly at the taste, you look at him with crossed eyes and whisper, “cum in my mouth Stevie…”. He groans and his quick to shove his cock in your mouth, letting you poor fluttering pussy to have a break. He cums quickly, always has when you suck him off.

After he destroyed you, he puts you back together with the most wonderful aftercare. Bathing you, massaging you with your favourite body lotion and holding you close to him, engulfing you in his arms and murmuring to you praises and words of affirmations and how much he loves you.

“you’re mine princess and I’ll be back every time to mark you as mine.” He traces some of his hickeys, purple black and you shudder, your skin sensitive.

“I’m yours and you’re mine” you whisper, tracing the fading mark on his skin.

“Yes, you are”, he puts your finger on his hips, where a burn never went away, the scar remind both of you of the day you met.

“I’m yours since day one, my little widow”.

You smile and fall asleep in the arm of your super solider.

taglist :

@navybrat817 @christywantspizza @buckyalpine @iloveprettyboysblog @ethreal-love @nailedbymandy@captainsimagines @buckybarnesandmarvel @rogersandlightwood @sparkledfirecracker @barneswinterraven @hansensgirl @blades-and-heartbreak @runa-falls @chrisdrysdale

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #chris evans #cloudy&bellaskinktober #cevans #chris evans characters #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #chris evans fandom #nomad!steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers smut #angst #hurt #hurt/comfort

[frostironfudge]

Hide From Me - Steve Rogers

Summary: You deal with the leaving of Steve in your own way, what happens when he finds you and states he wants you back? (Also I was inspired by Where Have You Been by Rihanna the lyrics are quoted)

Pairings: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, drinking, di/rty dancing, di/rty talk, sm/ut, ora/l fem rec, d/s undertones, ex/hi/bitionism if you squint, steve rogers is jealous, you are responsible for the media you consume

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist || AO3

A.N: i do not consent to my work being copied, translated, reposted on other platforms, or put into AI. My accounts are on tumblr and AO3 only.

Knocking back drinks is easy. The burn is welcome. Flashing lights hide your seat of choice. 

See everyone but you must not be seen. 

The bitter taste upon your tongue seldom prevents the bittersweet memory. Your tongue clicks as the last shot glass is empty as well. Pushing away from your hideaway you go to the crowd upon the dance floor. 

Become one with the crowd but you must stand out. 

The speakers thump, your heart reverberates to the beat of the song. Head thrown back in a bitter drowned laugh at the lyrics. Reminding you of an aimless search. 

Hands grip your hips, you allow yourself to be pulled into the embrace. The man moves his hips, your short skirt doing its job. 

The two of you move. Your hands guide him to your waist, you turn wrapping your arms around him. Smiling shyly at him. Little does he know what you are up to. 

Replace easily but never forget. 

The man trails his hands up your back. Hmm, maybe you could have your fun. The wandering hands freeze. You huff, pushing away from him. The crowd wanes in the slightest. You find another partner. 

Your hips meet with this new partner, your eyes scan the surroundings. 

How fitting the line of the song.

‘Are you hiding from me, yeah?

Somewhere in the crowd’ 

The light bounces off of his features, brows knit, scowling. Angry, grumpy and oh so livid at the forgettable hands that are too close to cupping what is absolutely belonging to him. 

Rather was his, abandoning you on the run. Leaving stale crumbs to follow. You grab the wandering hands leading them to the back. Where bodies seek pleasure. 

Where the heart eats the afterthoughts, and falls into a bitter ruin. 

‘Someone who can please me,

Love me all night long’

The stranger pushes you against the wall, lips on your neck, parting your legs with his knee. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, drawing him closer. The stranger speaks with lust, and decrees promises of euphoria. 

You blink up at him, then smirk. Your hands wander below. He groans as you palm him. Then he stumbles backward. Your vision is blocked by broad shoulders that one did carry your given marks proudly. 

The song reaches its chorus. Steve turns to you, blue eyes carry an anger. You only raise your brow at him. He follows you out of the back exit. You don’t run. He tilts his head, you did run from him the previous times. 

Why not today?

The song still faintly carries out of the club. You turn towards him. Arms crossed, demeanour demanding an explanation. 

“You are not running away from me.” Steve says it as though a statement, the subtle shock hidden well enough.

Make them tell you everything, give them nothing.

“You seemed as if you wanted to have a chat.” You lean against the wall.

“We no longer have to be on the run. Things have come up.” He regards you, trying to get a read. Your expression is neutral.

“So what? You’re treasure hunting your abandoned cadets?” You sneer.

“Do not be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like as if I’m to blame when–,”

“Steve, fuck you.” You spit out, “I do not wish to return anywhere with you. You left lets keep it that fucking way.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” You watch the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Any warm bed.” You take a sick pleasure in the way his calm demeanour cracks. Flaring nostrils, tightening fist, clenched jaw.

“You’re coming to my place.” The authoritative tone makes itself known.

“Sorry Captain, I no longer work for or with you.” You turn back, your shoulder pushing against his arm as you go back into the club.

Steve closes his eyes, breathing in and then out. He groans low as your perfume lingers around him. He had to take you back. Whatever he may have to do to lure you. Following in your footsteps.

Finding you on the dance floor is easy only because you make it. He had decided to leave but then you had to dance with that lowlife. Then the next one, as if you knew he was here. 

‘Looking for you babe,

Looking for you babe,

Searching for you babe’

Steve growls spotting you, lips locked on with the stranger from before. His movements are sluggish but they still touch what belongs to Steve himself. The man is pulled away by a friend as Steve makes his way to you.

You are pulled to him, his warmth seeping into your skin through the material of your sheer top yet you shiver. Steve hums pleased, lips nipping at your earlobe. Your hands tighten upon his wanting to push him away.

Both of your hands are grabbed by one of his, you try to move but Steve has other plans. His large palm moves down the back of your right thigh then front. Moving below your skirt. He cups you, the tightening of your inner thighs just keeps his touch closer. 

He begins to grind his palm to the beat of the music, speed growing faster as the tempo picks up. Steve watches as your body responds to him. Unravelling itself to the man who ruined it and put it back together with each shattering orgasm. 

Your breath comes out in short pants, the coil tightening in your belly. Your panties are ruined by your arousal aiding Steve in his merciless ministrations. Your head rests against his chest. You feel his hand on your chest but your hands don’t move. Lest he stops.

Your moan reverberates against his palm. He tugs on your earlobe yet again as praise. Two fingers now inside you. You know you won’t be able to take it any longer.

‘You can have me all you want

Anyway,’

You cum with a cry of his name, his hearing picks it up even if the hazed crowd around you cannot hear the sweet melody.

You’re pressed down into the mattress, with his belt around your hands tied to the headboard. Steve’s lips are seizing yours—wet, warm, and consuming you. Clothes are long discarded along the small hallway of the flat. 

Large palms cup your breasts, your nipples teased, tugged upon with fingers and teeth. When he kisses over your sternum his beard leaves a delicious burn across your body. You cry out his name as he blows over your folds. Lips latching on your clit. 

Steve moans, finally his hunger would be sated. Your taste coats his tongue and lips. He can feel his pussy demanding for more, demanding to be rewarded for all these months of useless fucks. 

“Steve!” You cry out when he bites down on your folds, tugging them before soothing them with his tongue. 

“You need to be reminded who this pussy belongs to.” He nips on your clit, you cry out as the sensitivity begins to take over. He can tell the signs, your hands released. 

His cock coated in your arousal. He hisses as your nails dig in, awaking his primal urge to want to be marked by you over and over. 

Steve thrusts into you, groaning as you take him so well. All of him, every inch.

“Do you know how beautiful you look? Taking every inch of my cock so well.” He praises, “Look at you, marking me up.” 

Your eyes follow the trail of red welts as you leave scratches upon him. Drawing him in and closer for more, more of him.

He angles his hips and you feel him hit the spot that has you arching up into him. Your orgasm barrels into you. Crying out his name. Steve kisses you as your ecstasy triggers his own. You feel him fill you up, your whimpers and mewls met with his soft kisses. 

When he pulls away you whine, needing him close. He returns soon with a warm towel and more kisses to give you. 

Somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, he makes yet another promise,

“I will make it up to you, sweetheart. I do regret leaving. I’m so very sorry. Even if it takes me years to earn your forgiveness I will remain on my knees.”

The morning light wakes Steve, the sheets are warm and still carry your scent. He smiles burrowing closer, his arm reaching out to draw you to him. He finds emptiness. Bolting upright he searches the room. 

He walks through the small apartment. Each corner is empty. 

Your clothes are still strewn across his floor but his shirt is gone. Tongue running over his teeth he walks up to the small paper taped to his bathroom mirror. Words he wrote months ago stare back at him.

‘Don’t try to find me, I do not want to be found.’ 

At the back of the note there is more, but in your handwriting;

‘My Love,

Your search for me will be futile just as mine for you was.

Thanks for the warm bed.’ 

He traces the lipstick print you’ve left as the sign off with his index finger. 

-x-x-x-x-

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #nomad steve smut #captain america x female reader #nomad steve x reader #steve rogers angst #frostironfudge #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #dom steve #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #nomad steve rogers x reader

[darkuselesssomebody]

dark steve rogers masterlist

** who doesn’t love a lil steve rogers

** all works are x reader (written as x fem!reader)

my full masterlist

everything for all fandoms in one place

my non-dark steve rogers masterlist

K E Y

indicators

♜ - angst

♞ - fluff

♝ - smut

♛ - personal favorite

♚ - most popular (currently over 100 notes)

text type

⌲ - oneshot

↳ - mini - series

✞ - series

│ - drabbles

⌲ promises - ♜

summary || in which the reader asks steve to make a promise

coming soon!

#steve rogers #mcu imagine #marvel #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers masterlist #chris evans #nomad steve #nomad steve x reader #dark steve rogers masterlist

[recschrisevans]

Steve Rogers | recs

🌸fluff 🔥smut 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦family\pregnancy 🏃‍♀️angst 🌚 dark 🤴au!

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gergeous - 🌸🔥🤴

just frat! Steve being protective of his girlfriend classification -⭐⭐⭐⭐

#dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #nomad steve #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #steve rogers drabble #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steven grant rogers

[cevansbaby-dove]

Trusting the Captain. part 4

"Tell me what's going on Y/N!"

You shake your head. "i don't know what the fuck is going on so you tell ME!"

"Tony told me you and me are going uncover...and you knew-" You say. "I am just hearing about this! My god thanks for keeping me up to date on plans Rogers!"

You shake your head and steve sighs leaning on the counter.

"I'm sorry Y/N" You blink tears away. "Just...don't talk to me!" You walk out without another word.

Wanda walks in and looks at Steve and doesn't say anything.

He scoffs "Don't say it please Wanda" "oh no i was just going to ask her not you" Nat cross her arms. "what happend?" Steve sighs. "I'll talk to-"

Wanda says. "No Steve, just let her be please, it's whats best"

Steve nods and rubs his mouth and mumbles. "damnit"

Wanda knocks on the door to your room. "Y/N?" You sniff. "let me be alone please" Wanda hears your crying and walks in. "I hate taking orders"

She sits by you and rubs your arm. "want to talk about it?" You sit up and say. "How the hell could he be pissed me!? I didn't know anything about this"

"he'll cool down soon don't worry"

Meanwhile....Natasha is talking to steve.

She says. "you need to calm down before you talk to y/n, you hurt her badly Rogers"

"she knew about this and she's lying to my face how do i clam down Nat!? God!"

Nat says. "Rogers go pull apart some wood or something!" She sighs and shakes her head.

Steve hears the front door open and he turns and sees Sharon walk in.

Steve rolls his eyes and says. "Who let her in?" You walk into the kitchen. "i did, she is the one who said for us to go undercover."

You hold your hand out to her. "good to see you" She shakes your hand. "you too y/n we got off on the wrong-"

You say. "Save it Carter i'm just bringing you in to keep an eye on things"

She nods and looks at Rogers. "Captain."

"Neighbor" She presses her lips together and says. 'Right..not happy right now."

You look at the papers by Steve and he glances at you and says in your ear. "hallway please" You look up at him and slightly nod. He walks away.

"excuse me" you walk behind him and Wanda smiles as you walk past her, you shrug and say. 'he said to go, not me"

You two get to the hall and you fold your arms. "make it quick i have to pack"

He has glossy eyes and you frown and walk to him. "Steve...I'm not mad at you i mean i was but i'm over it" he shakes his head and says. "What if this mission fails, What if you.."

"What if i What? Steve please talk to me" He blinks away tears and says. "if someone hurts you...i can't keep everyone safe...but i want to keep YOU safe..I promise I will not let anyone hurt you"

You walk closer to him and take his hand in yours. "Steve you can't promise that, I know you mean well but...if something happens then that's part of this."

Steve nods and says. "If we do this...it's together...You..and me." You smile. "I wouldn't ask for anyone better" He kisses you softly. "I love you y/n"

You smile. 'God i love you too Cap"

When you two walk back into the living room, you see James and tony. "Hello Y/N, we need to talk"

Steve holds your hand tighter wanting to protect you.

Part 5 being thought of right now. thanks for all the love!

taglist:@cutedisneygrl @k-slla @patzammit @alternativeprincess94 @nicoline1998enilocin @armystay89

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steven grant rogers #nomad steve

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Canon Divergent, Post-Endgame | 36K | Explicit | @spacerenegades​

~

Twice a day, every day, Steve lights the lantern at the top of the lighthouse.

One day, every year, a door opens and Bucky steps through.

*

This is the story of how Steve and Bucky reclaim all of the years they've lost and what Valhalla means to someone who's willing to wait for it.

~

Snuzz’s writing emanates a beautiful sort of melancholy. This fic just hit me right in the feels ❤️ This is just beautiful and sad and melancholic and soft, I loved it! ❤️ That was such a beautiful heartfelt touching story.  It was also one of my favourite fics of 2020! It also inspired me to make this cover.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #stucky canon divergent #post endgame #angst #nomad steve

[stories-by-hails]

I wish to point out that we only had 8 glorious minutes of this and I sincerely wish it was more (I am also realizing this may very slowly become a Steve Rogers simp account oopsies 🤷‍♀️)

#steve rogers #captainamerica #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #chris evans #Nomad Rogers #It deserved more screen time