She felt his eyes trail on her bare back where the ink was still bright from being tattooed only three days ago. She finished removing her bra when she felt the bed dip behind her. Steve kneeled down and grazed his fingertips on her shoulder blade, barely touching the outline of the shield. His shield.
Peggy lifted her hands to her breasts suddenly shy under his scrutiny. She could feel his eyes bore into her skin and it was like the sting of the needle was there again to poke her flesh.
“Why?” The awe in his voice made Peggy smile.
“I want you with me. Always.” She simply answered.
Steve leaned in to kiss her shoulder, softly, slowly, taking his time before moving his lips to the nape of her neck, behind her ear, along the side of ther throat where her pulse jumped. A breathy whimper escaped her lips.
“And because you’re mine.” She whispered.
He chucked next to her skin, the vibration sent shivers all the way down to her spin and he noticed. He encircled one hand around her waist to lay on the flat of her stomach, pulling her closer to his body.
You’re dating and they discover you’ve started self-harming again.
Tony: Self hatred was something that Tony was all too familiar with. Not a day went by that he didn’t hate himself for one reason or another. Today, he hated himself because he hadn’t noticed. He had been completely oblivious to the way that you had secluded yourself more and more in the recent weeks. He hadn’t noticed the fresh cut marks on your arms. He had let you down.
He’d caught you coming out of the shower; meaning to be cheeky about it and hopefully coax you back into the shower with him. Clad in nothing but a towel your new scars were all too visible against the cream towel. Surprised, you pulled the towel closer to your body, twisting your arms in such a way that your scars were hidden, pressed against your chest. “Tony.” Before you could continue he had left the bathroom, silently stalking away to leave you to scramble to get dressed.
Changing quickly you came out of the bathroom to find Tony sitting on the bed, back leaning against the headboard with a pillow in his lap. His fingers twirled and twirled around a stray thread of the pillowcase, eyes focused somewhere just over your shoulder. Quietly you neared the bed; crawling onto the mattress and sitting shoulder to shoulder with Tony.
“It’s my fault.” He began, meticulously wrapping the thread around his pointer finger to cut off the blood before slowly unwinding it again. “Is it because I’m too caught up with work all the time? Because I can spend less time in the lab. We can take a week off. A month off. Hell, let’s travel for a year. We’ll go wherever you want. No work. No distractions. Just you and me.”
“Tony.” You cut him off quietly. “It’s not your fault.” The tears in his eyes when he finally looked at you caused tears of your own to well in your eyes.
“How do I help you? I thought we were on the right path. I thought we were figuring it out. Why didn’t you come to me?”
Sighing you wedged your arm between Tony’s own arm and his chest, curling against his side enough to lay your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
His other hand came up to cradle your face as he turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of your head. He hovered there for a long time, thumb brushing against your cheek as he held your face. “I love you. So much that it hurts.”
“I love you too.”
Steve: With a loud ‘oomf’ your back hit the floor pad once again, head cracking against the relatively soft padding as Steve wins the sparring match. A big triumphant smile had him showing off all of his perfect teeth as he reached an arm down to help you back onto your feet. Without thinking, you accept his offered hand, the sleeve of your hoodie riding up to expose the fresh scars lining your wrists. The moment you were on your feet again you were pulling your sleeve back down, hoping that Steve hadn’t noticed.
He had, of course. Almost nothing escaped Steve’s notice. With a deep frown he kept your hand trapped in his own, keeping you anchored to him. With his free hand he pulled up your sleeve enough to reveal the first of the line of scrrs before you violently pulled your sleeve back down. “What do you think you’re doing.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” You caught him off guard by yanking your arm away from him hard. Turning on your heel you stepped quickly. “I’m going to shower off.”
You had hoped that by the time you were done showering Steve would have left the gym. Purposely packing your gym clothes away slowly you hoisted the bag over your shoulder and slowly opened the door back into the gym. Of course, Steve was seated on a bench close to the door. Waiting for you.
“Ready to talk about it?” He asked, rising to his feet as you started walking quickly out of the gym. Easily he matched your pace, making sure to keep step with you no matter how fast or how slow you tried to move.
“No.” You snapped. “It’s not a big deal.” Steve remained silent, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked the halls quietly. Reaching the room to your dorm, you sighed and glanced over at him. “You’re not going away are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Huffing loudly you kicked open the door to your room and let your bag drop to the floor. “Fine. Let’s talk about it.”
Thor: “Y/N?” Thor’s voice boomed from the bathroom. Rolling over in bed, sleep still in your eyes, you let out a loud hum as answer. Light from the bathroom interrupted the darkness of your bedroom when Thor opened the door, gingerly holding something between his thumb and pointer finger. “What is this?” Blinking to focus your eyes, the small razor became noticeable in Thor’s grasp.
“Where’d you find that?” Sitting up now your heart began to beat a little faster, nervous kicking in. Thor stepped forward to near the bed, holding the razor out like he thought you couldn’t see it properly.
“On the countertop. Beside the sink.” Mentally you cursed yourself for forgetting to put it away. Holding out your hand Thor gently placed the razor in your palm.
“It looks like a miniature sword. But it’s oddly designed.” His blatant oblivion to what the razor represented calmed your nerves minutely. “What is it used for?” The bed dipped as he sat beside you.
Weighing the razor in your hand for a moment you deposited it on the nightstand. “It’s used for cutting things, like a sword would be. People usually use it for cutting paper, or string or something like that when they’re sewing.”
“What have you used it for?” His question shocked you into silence. While he had meant it to be innocent, there was a weight behind his words that he couldn’t understand. Not unless you told him.
Slowly you pulled back the sleeve of your pajama top, revealing the stained white bandage underneath. Thor’s giant hand quickly enclosed your own, brow furrowing as he frowned at the covered injury. “You hurt yourself?” He asked, casting a menacing glance at the razor.
“I haven’t in a long time. This week just,” You paused, searching for the right words. “This week was just tough.” Nodding in understanding Thor released your hand and grabbed the razor instead. Crossing the room with wide strides he dropped the razor into the trash can before coming back to the bed.
“Now it cannot hurt you anymore.” Once again taking hold of your hand he tugged your wrist up enough so that he could press an innocent kiss against the bandage.
Clint: “Let’s have a lazy morning.” Clint grumbled as you turned off the ringing alarm clock. To accentuate his statement his arm flexed around your waist, holding you down. Not that you were fighting to get up and start your morning.
“Work will miss us.” You tried to reason. Clint laughed behind you, breathing hot air against the back of your neck.
“No they won’t. Besides, you deserve to relax a little bit. Take your mind off of everything.” His hand reached down across your body to gently wrap around your wrist, tugging your hand up to press a kiss to the pulse point of your wrist.
“How long have you known for?” You asked, twisting around in his grasp to face him. Letting go of your hand to rest it against his face Clint hugged your waist once again.
“A while. You’re not a good liar, you know.” Embarrassed, you let your eyes drop away from Clints face. “Play hooky with me today. Maybe it will help.” With two fingers he tilted your chin back up to force you to look at him.
Bruce: You hadn’t meant to cut as deeply as you had. You’d tried to stifle it with towel after towel, and had finally managed to get it to slow enough to use a bandage, but that left a mess of blood stained towels across the bathroom floor and in the sink. Knowing that Bruce was due home soon you did what you could to clean the blood, only managing to clean the sink before you heard the front door open.
Abandoning your cleaning venture, you slipped out of the bathroom and closed the door securely behind you. Taking a deep breath you walked to the front hall, smiling softly when you saw Bruce hanging his jacket up by the door. “Hi, honey.” He smiles brightly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pecking you on the lips quickly. As he went to move past you into the living room you grabbed onto the front of his shirt.
“I have to show you something.” If you didn’t show him now, he’d find it later. And while neither one was favorable, this was the best option. Taking his hand you quietly lead him to the bathroom, opening the door to reveal the mess of towels still on the floor. “I cut deeper than I meant to. I couldn’t clean it up in time.”
Carefully detracting his hand from yours Bruce rolled up the sleeves to his button up shirt to his elbows. Squeezing past you and the door frame he surveyed the bathroom with a weary look. “Why don’t you go lay down on the couch and I’ll clean up here. Then we can have some tea. Talk.”
“I didn’t mean to.” You apologized. Bruce smiled softly back at you before he began cleaning.
“I know. But I don’t want you to worry about it right now. Go relax. I’ll be there soon.”
a/n: This was a request for any Steve imagine. Sorry it’s so short but I hope you all enjoy! c:
You were standing at work bored out of your mind. It was incredibly slow that day and the restaurant only had a few tables, including one group of guys that had been there for an hour. You recognized a few of them from school and one of them kept looking your way. You kept catching him staring at you and overtime you did his friends what laugh at him. After a while you noticed them pushing him and pointing at you and so you rolled your eyes. You were used to big gangs like this coming in here and objectifying you and your co-workers.
Eventually the guy got up and you recognized him a little better. You’d seen him at school but you were also pretty sure you’d seen him at the DX up the street although you didn’t know his name. He actually looked pretty nervous and you even saw him wipe his palms on his jeans before finally walking over to you. He didn’t say anything once he got to the counter where you were standing and you looked up at him expectantly.
“Do you like movies?” he asked me, smiling a bit hopefully.
“Do I like movies?” you replied a bit confused.
“Yea..” he replied. “‘Cause theres this two for one movie night at the drive in and I have a truck. If you wanted to go to that I could take you.”
You hesitated and could see his friends behind him watching. “Is this like.. Are you doing a dare or a bet or something?”
“What?” He frowned and so you pointed to his table. He spun around and quickly all his friends looked away and tried to look busy. “No this ain’t a bet or anything. I’ve just been talking about asking you out for a month now.. I think they’re excited that I’m finally doing it.”
“You’ve been thinking about it for a month and you haven’t done it yet?” you grinned “What’s your name?”
“Are you usually this nervous, Steve?”
“Not normally.” He laughed.
You just smiled a bit and wrote down your address. “I’m Y/N. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” you said as you slid it over.
Steve immediately smiled widely and couldn’t help but lean over to kiss your cheek. You both looked surprised but were both smiling still as he walked away. You couldn’t help but stare at him until he left with his friends and count the hours until he picked you up.
Tony wakes to a tiny finger in his
left ear and a barely suppressed giggle.
Well two giggles actually.
One is the very familiar deep rumble
of his husband, who as a matter of fact is catastrophically bad at suppressing
giggles. Especially when it is this special brand of mischievous giggle. The
other is a way higher tone, almost as familiar by now and even more mischievous.
It obviously belongs to the same
person as the finger in his ear.
Even without opening his eyes he
knows that Sarah’s whole face is probably lit up with glee right now - ever
since she’s gotten big enough to climb onto their bed all on her own, waking
like this has become kind of a fixture. And she doesn’t seem to be getting
tired of it at all.
If it didn’t make her this
exceptionally happy, it’d probably be a lot easier to tell her to stop doing it.
As it is, Tony hasn’t even managed to say one word against it in all of almost
“Steve, I think the
ear-infiltrating aliens from last week are back!” Tony says, keeping his
voice as grave as possible, even though the giggling intensifies. “I think
we’ll have to tape our ears shut every night from now on the get this situation
under control. Especially Miss Sarah’s ears, because I don’t want the aliens to
His words are accompanied by a little
shriek, when he cracks open one eye while talking and clamps his hands over his
daughters ears. “Noooo Daddy, no tape, no tape, no tape!” She is
still giggling - she very well knows that Tony is not being serious. After all
she’s almost as good at reading him as Steve and there is no denying who her
Steve is trying really hard to sound
stern when he answers.
“Yes, I think that is a very
good idea. I’m sure Clint has some purple tape lying around and it is after all
your favorite color, Sarahbee so we can start the taping right after dinner.”
He is leaning forward and placing a smacking kiss on her forehead to try and
hide that he is now full out laughing.
As expected Sarah is not fooled and easily
wriggles free of Tony’s hands to poke Steve’s cheek with one of her fingers.
“You hate tape! No tape,
Papa!” She demands and of course Steve nods seriously and his face looks
actually really funny when he is trying so hard not to laugh again.
“Alright,” he says
“but then you have to help us fend off the aliens with” - he wrinkles
his forehead as if he is thinking very hard and Sarah is already hanging onto
every word he is saying and Tony is so in love with this ridiculous dork -
“lemon scent candles and hot cocoa in the evening, because aliens don’t
like that, promise?”
promise!” Sarah singsongs with a bright, sunny smile on her face. Without
warning she flops back against Tony, laying her hand flat against the arc
reactor - an unconscious thing she almost always does - and smiles up at him.
“Yeah I guess now that we’ve
averted the alien crisis, we all deserve some pancakes with blueberries and
syrup.” Tony says, and her whole face lights up at that and he’ll probably
never get over the little flutter his heart still makes when he sees her this
happy. “Alright, why don’t you go on ahead down to the communal floor and
take a look if anyone else is already up and wants breakfast too? I bet Aunt
Tasha will make you her special milk with honey if you ask her real nice.”
There’s literally always one or the
other of the Avengers already awake at this time, who’ll happily entertain
their little girl - after all none of them are immune to her big brown puppy
eyes and her infectious smile.
“Honey milk!” She nods
happily and starts climbing down the bed without hesitation and almost topples
over in her hurry. In the doorframe she stops for a second looking back at
them, contemplating. “You too?”
“Yeah, bee, we’ll be down in a
minute, okay?” Steve says, already leaning over to pull Tony into his
Sarah just nods satisfied, blows
them both a smacking kiss and hurries on to the elevator.
“Jarvis, you have an eye on
Tony watches her go, before he tilts
his head up to accept Steve’s good morning kiss, thinking that he probably couldn’t
be more happy than he is right now. He loves them so much, he sometimes thinks
he is just going to burst from how happy they make him and how grateful he is
to have them.
“Aliens, huh?” Steve
murmurs against his mouth, and Tony can feel his wide grin against his lips.
“Well, you’re not the one
always woken by a sticky finger in their ear so you don’t get to talk!”
Not that he is complaining.
He actually loves the sticky finger
and everything else that comes as a package deal with it.
Anonymous sent: “Well, since u brought it up! ;P How about a battle goes wrong when
Tony’s suit malfunctions, ejecting him 100s of feet in the air &
there’s nothing he can do to stop his fall bc his wings are gone.
(But of course Steve catches him). Comfort plz! ^-^”
I’m a sucker for Wing Fics! Thank you for this request - and sorry it took so long. Hopefully you like your fic =7=);;<3
Before Afghanistan, Tony’s wings were a deep red. He’d loved them,
loved to run his fingers through the feathers, arranging them. He had
loved to trace the golden band that crossed his wings right in the
middle, had loved to watch the sun play over it.
After Afghanistan, Tony’s wings were no longer there.
When his kidnappers realized that he wouldn’t bent to their will they
started to torture him. At first, with water. By beating him. And
then, when he still wouldn’t break, they turned to his wings.
That was when the real pain had started.
After Afghanistan, Tony has been surprised to be still alive, with
his wings gone, cut away. No more crimson red feathers, no more gold
gleaming in the sunlight.
He built the Iron Man suit and put his colours on it, reclaiming the
Flying, even without wings.
Right now though, actual wings would come in handy.
The battle is almost over and Tony has allowed himself to get just a
little careless. It backfires immediately. He’s hit with a burst of
energy and then the HUD lights up, red and blinking, flashing
warnings at Tony.
He has about three seconds to realize what is going on.
Then, he’s suddenly in the air.
Tony thinks “Shit” and then there are the rest of his teammates
screaming into his ear, because of course he still has the comm, he
hears their concerned voices. He hears Rhodey calling his name and
there’s Natasha calling out for Hulk, for Thor, anyone who
can catch Tony, but they are not going to be fast enough.
Tony thinks this will be his end.
The ground his rapidly coming
closer, with no suit to keep him up. The muscles in his back strain;
a memory movement, trying to flap wings that are no longer there and
that hurts even more than the knowledge that he’s as good as dead-
Tony closes his eyes. It feels so much like his fall from the
wormhole, but at least he’s been unconscious back then, didn’t have
to notice the ground coming closer, didn’t have the calculations
running through his mind of how hard the fall will be, how likely he
is to survive.
Chance of surviving less than 10%,
At least it will be fast.
But then, suddenly, there are arms
around him and Tony is pulled
against a hard chest, pulled into a safe embrace. His fall gets
stopped abruptly and he snaps his eyes open in surprise.
The world around him is a shock of brilliant white and flashes of
“I’ve got you”, Steve says, and if Tony wouldn’t know him as well
as he does, he wouldn’t have noticed the way Steve’s voice shook
slightly. Wouldn’t have noticed the way Steve’s arms were tighter
around him than necessary.
He’s holding the two of them in the air with little effort, big white
wings moving up and down with powerful movements.
Steve hugs him tighter, buries his nose in Tony’s hair for a moment.
“I’ve got you”, he repeats and Tony relaxes, knowing he’s safe.
22!! “dating advice #1: you don’t look at anyone other than me” with stevextony
Here we go!
“Steve, look at me. Steve!”
Steve jerked his attention back to Bucky. “I don’t know if
this is a good idea, Buck.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and bit into his croissant, scattering
crumbs all over the table. “Dating advice #1, Steve: you don’t look at anyone
other than me.”
“We’re not actually dating,
“He don’t know that.” Bucky’s eyes flitted briefly over
Steve’s shoulder and then he grinned, brushing crumbs off his lips with a thumb
and forefinger. He took a loud sip of his coffee, still smiling at Steve over
the lip of the cup.
“Seeing me with you is going to give him the wrong idea,”
Steve protested. “Well, I mean I’m always with
you, but not with you, with you.” He
flinched at all the flaky pastry bits going everywhere. Bucky’s mom would have
popped him on the back of the head for those kind of table manners. Uncaring,
Bucky tore the remains of croissant apart, peeling the layers away and dropping
them into his mouth like oversized noodles.
“What?” Bucky winked at him. “Trust me, the sloppy boyfriend
who barely notices you is the best way to get him jealous.”
“I don’t want him
jealous,” Steve hissed. “I just want him to notice that I exist.”
“You asked for my help,” Bucky reminded him, taking another
noisy sip of his coffee. “I’m helping.” He checked his phone for the time,
pushed his hair behind his ears and sucked down the rest of his coffee. “I need
to go to class. You stay here and draw or whatever. Try to be cute.”
“Jesus, Bucky!” Steve felt his cheeks heating up and Bucky
smiled at him.
“Just like that,” Bucky said with a wink. He pushed away
from the table, leaned over, and kissed Steve on the cheek. Steve glared at him
and suppressed an urge to reach up and wipe the kiss away. Bucky was having fun
and just grinned as he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. He ruffled
Steve’s hair on the way past and called out, “See ya’ later, babe.”
Steve groaned, very quietly, and thought about hiding under
his table. The café was the next thing to empty, well after the afternoon rush
and before the evening crowd started to filter in for the open mic. It was one
of his favorite places to tuck himself into a corner and disappear, and because
of his best friend (who meant well, but was basically a dick), he might have to
run away and never show his face there again.
Before he could make up his mind about tucking tail and
running, Darcy bustled over to his table with a wet rag and an empty tray. “What
are you doing?” she hissed at him, making a show of wiping off the table. She
checked over her shoulder for her manager and climbed into Bucky’s vacated
chair. “Are you nuts?”
“It wasn’t my idea!” Steve whispered back. He probably
looked frantic. He felt frantic. “Oh, God, I should just leave and never come
back, right? Move to Mexico and learn how to surf.”
Darcy snorted. “Sweetheart, I love you, but no. Try Canada.
It’s closer. And there’s less surfing.”
Steve stuck his tongue at her.
“Seriously, though, what are you trying to do? He’s going to
think you’re taken and back off.”
“Back off of what?” Steve asked incredulously. “I’ve never
even talked to him. Bucky thought it might make it him jealous.” Other than giving his order and some quick banter at the counter that Steve had never been brave enough to try taking away from the counter, they’d barely exchanged three words since Steve started coming to the cafe.
“Boys, oh my god.
This is why I am a lesbian, I swear to Christ, I can’t handle your shit. Just ask him for his number.”
“I’m a total stranger,” Steve protested. “I can’t just. Why
would he just give his phone number to a stranger?”
She gave him a pitying look. “Steve. You’ve sat at this
table almost every day for the last year. You are not a stranger.”
“Might as well be,” Steve muttered. He kicked his heel at
the footrest of his tall stool, glaring faintly over the edge of the table at
the floor. Bucky had to tuck his knees up against the underside of the table in
these stools, and he spread out like a floppy ragdoll in the normal chairs.
Steve could sit in perfect typist position in the stool if he wanted to.
“Listen, you idiot,” Darcy said after a pause to consider him,
“Tony seems like he’s a big dog, but really he’s just that one Chihuahua that
barks at everything and runs away from blowing leaves. He likes you. He created
a drink just for you. Just
stop being stupid and go ask for his number, because he’s probably moping in
the walk-in right now, and you wouldn’t want him to get hypothermic, right? Of
course not. You go up to the counter, I’ll go get him from the back.”
“He created a drink for me?” Steve asked,
“Sweetie. You’re so freaking cute. You didn’t notice that
your seriously random drink order has actually been on the menu for the last three months?”
Steve squinted up at it. He hadn’t looked at the menu since
the first time he’d told Tony that he was lactose intolerant and ordered a chai latte with almond milk and honey, which Tony delivered with a stick of fresh cinnamon
and extra cup of strong black tea for him to mix how he liked. And there it
was, right in the middle of the chalkboard in red and blue letters – The Captain
America. Steve felt his cheeks flush for the second time, but it felt really
“You really think he’d give me his number?”
“Steven Rogers, that man would probably quit his job right
now to go on a date with you this exact instant,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.
She opened her mouth to continue, but her manager appeared at the counter. Eric
lifted an eyebrow at her, and she slid out of her stool, giving him a bright
grin. “Seriously, if you show up with that pretty boy BFF of yours again, I
will accidentally on purpose dump a whole pitcher of cold water in your lap.”
She gave him a big, toothy smile, and moved to the next table to wipe it down.
Tony appeared from the back a few minutes later. Steve had
been pep-talking himself since Darcy had taken off, but he froze in his seat,
playing around with his empty glass while he covertly watched Tony wiping down
the counter and stacking up newly washed glasses. Sucking in a deep breath, he
slid out of his stood, smoothed his shirt down, and marched up to the counter.
Tony cast a glance around as if looking for someone to save
him, but he stepped up to the register and plastered a smile on his face. “What
can I get for you?” he asked pleasantly without a trace of his usual humor or
“A Captain America,” Steve said, and then added, “And your
phone number.” The words dropped out of his mouth way more confidently (and
loudly) than he’d expected. Tony just stared at him, his mouth hanging open and
eyebrows slowly climbing up his forehead. “If that’s okay?” Steve tacked on
when the silence had stretched too long.
“About bloody time,” Eric muttered from behind Tony. He
rolled his head and made a gesture with one hand. “Take a break.”
“Um. Okay?” Tony said, darting a glance over at Steve and
then to the drink station.
“Make the drinks, go on break,” Eric said firmly, taking
Tony by the shoulders and steering him to the drink station. “On the house,” he
said to Steve. “Just this one time,” he added pointing a finger at him.
Steve made a weak protest, but Eric wasn’t having it. He
turned away from the register and retreated into the back, muttering under his
breath. Steve looked helpless over his shoulder to see Darcy giving him an
enthusiastic double thumbs up. He thought he managed to give her a smile. Tony
came around the counter a moment later with a tray carrying Steve’s usual order
and a tall paper cup of coffee. Darcy passed him on her way behind the counter,
sticking her tongue out at him as he went, and Steve numbly followed his
long-time crush over to his table.
They sat across from each other in nervous silence for
“So they guy you were here with…?” Tony asked finally.
“Not my boyfriend,” Steve reassured him. “Definitely not.
Best friend, but not. We’re not dating. Really. That was just… let’s forget
that even happened, okay?”
Tony gave him a smile that quickly bloomed from uncertain to
his usual rakish grin. “You were trying to get my attention,” he guessed
“Not my idea,” Steve said sourly.
Tony laughed. “Well, something worked,” he said, taking a
judicious sip of his coffee, “So tell your friend thanks for me.”
Steve’s heart was fluttering hard in his chest, and he
couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “Okay.”
Darcy was getting a bouquet of flowers. Bucky was probably
getting a swift kick, but maybe a beer too.
“My shift is up at five,” Tony said. “Have any plans this
“None at all,” Steve said, maybe a little too quickly. “But
maybe we could… catch a movie?”
-He’s always around you when I’m not which is…
-Oh my god, he’s a freaking co-worker, Steve!
-He gets to see you every single day while I’m
always with the Avengers.
-Really? You’re gonna play the A-card with me?
You think I don’t know that?! I’ve been nothing but understanding since the first
day we started dating. It’s not like I would ask you to leave the Avengers.
A/N: I miss Steve! So here’s a short Christmas drabble on him for day 4 (?). Also, sorry I didn’t post a drabble yesterday, guys. I’m trying here but sometimes I’m just so lazy… I’ll try to do better and post at least 15 drabbles in total before my trip to New York!!
prompt: snowball fight with your friend but oops, you hit captain america.
word count: 653
You were greeted with fresh fallen snow when you woke up in the morning as you got out in your big puffer jacket and sweats to get the newspaper. You waved to your cute next door neighbor as he coincidentally got out at the same time. A bright smile appeared on his face, realizing it was you who waved. Your face heated up in reaction, wishing you had the confidence to talk to him. He was just so out of your league, but you were happy that he didn’t seem to mind that you were his neighbor.
Before the two of you could say a word to each other, you whipped your body around and started to retreat back into your house without a word, gripping the stack of papers against your chest tightly. Shivering slightly, you shook off the few snowflakes that fell on your bangs as you set down the newspaper on the kitchen island. You sat around the bar stool as you waited for nothing in particular before your phone began ringing desperately. You checked the screen briefly to see if it was worth answering.
AN: I’ve got the house to myself tonight. I am in heaven.
Logically, Tony knew that Steve wasn’t a goody-two-shoes. He’d fought in one of the bloodiest, most gruesome wars in history, had spent most of his time in a damp tent or muddy hole with a bunch of tough guys - of course he wasn’t an innocent little angel.
Another, smaller, but no less prevalent part of him couldn’t help but picture the comic books he had read as a kid when he looked at Steve, couldn’t help but picture the old movies his Dad had shown to him. That version of Captain America, who was all shucks and goodgolly, had been so ingrained into his head since he was a little boy that it was hard for him to figure out where fictional Captain America ended and real life Steve Rogers started.
That was why he was so surprised when he heard Steve crack a dirty joke.
Steve Rogers x Reader
Words: 596 ( 😩 I’m so sorry to whoever requested this that it’s so short.)
Request: Hi! Is it ok if I request a Steve x Reader? The reader goes to Steve crying while she’s holding a knife and it’s covered in red stuff, and Steve freaks out thinking she killed someone, but afterwards the reader tells him that she was cutting onions and that the red stuff is just ketchup. Thanks!
A/N: I know that the sequel to Together was supposed to be put up next but I’ve already started on one and it’s on my laptop. I get back home tonight and can probably have that up tomorrow. I hope you enjoy this!
(I can’t put a gif. 😐)
His eyes went to your shaky hands, observing the knife and the red liquid before going up to your teary eyes. His confusion quickly turned to sorrow as he held pulled you into his apartment without question.
“Where is it?” He asked solemnly, a hand running through his blonde hair. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let you go to jail! But if he helped you do this, there would be no going back. No, you meant too much to him to just leave you on your own. Besides, you weren’t a murderer, you had to have had a good reason.
“My apartment.” You replied, looking confused but feeling relieved. That was much easier than you thought it was going to be. You had been so nervous to ask him you’d even brought along the knife.
“Let’s go,” he said, throwing his jacket down. He tossed you a napkin to wipe your hands down with, you accepting it gratefully. “Ready?” He asked, his eyes searching your own.
“Uh, yeah.” You replied, watching him strangely. He seemed so eager but also… apprehensive? You walked a few doors down from his door to your own apartment, pausing before you opened the door.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked. You nodded slowly, your brows furrowed. What was wrong with him? You rolled your eyes, opening the door to your small but homey apartment. You’d spent hours cleaning today, still a little upset with the amount of SHIELD reports scattered around the room. Other than that, the apartment was relatively clean. “Where?” Okay, what the hell was wrong with him?
“The kitchen…” You drawled, watching him as he took cautious steps towards your kitchen. He casted a worried glance towards you as he walked in, staring at the white tile confusedly.
“What?” He was gaping at the clean floor, dropping to his knees. “You burned him, didn’t you? Or did you dump him in the ocean? Where is he, (Y/N)? I can’t help if you already got rid of the body!”
“What the hell are you shouting about, Steve?” You bit out, moving to the counter.
“You,” he looked up with wide eyes, “you killed someone.” Your jaw dropped, a brow raising.
“Why do you think that?” You asked him, grabbing the pan of meatloaf you’d prepared for dinner.
“You ran into my apartment with bloodied eyes and a knife,” he pointed out. “And you were crying.” You held out the plate to him in show. “You made him into meatloaf?” He blanched, his face looking paler than normal.
“What? No!” You pushed it closer to him, pulling it back when he looked like he was going to barf. “It’s meatloaf, Steve. The ‘blood’ you saw was ketchup. I was crying because of the onions.”
“And the knife?” He asked his face looking much better than a moment ago.
“I’d been a little… nervous to ask you over for dinner and forgot I had it in my hand.” He let out a shaky laugh.
“So that’s what this is about?” You nodded. “I’d love dinner,” he smiled. You laughed, setting your pan down.
“You thought I murdered someone!” You wiped a tear, smirking. “And then you thought I was going to feed him to you. I’m not Hannibal Lecter.” He smiled to you.
“You were nervous?” You blushed, cursing yourself in your head. He put his hand on your shoulder, nodding towards the meatloaf. “Let’s eat.” You brought the food to the table, Steve bringing the plates. Well, you mused, at least something good came out of this.
i'm sicky write me a thing plz just a few words plz :( *coughs weakly*
AN: This is just a short little thing for my bby Clem because she’s not feeling well <3
Tony hummed in response, frowning distractedly at the equations on the screen in front of him. He was at least a few days into a work binge, and he wanted to finish so he could get something to eat and maybe a nap.
Steve’s out of character congestion definitely caught his notice the second time around, and he paused, before looking up properly.
Steve was stood in the doorway of the workshop. His eyes and nose were red, his nose looking stuffy as hell, and he was paler than usual. His clothes seemed to hang off him like they never usually did, apart from between his delectable pecs, where the material actually appeared to be sticking to his skin with sweat.
“I’mb habing trouble sleebing,” Steve told him casually, as though he didn’t look like absolute hell. “Boo doo thing doo camb comb doo bed anb snuggle be?”
Tony was still struggling to process what he was seeing. “Steve… are you sick?”
“Id’s dust a liddle colbd,” Steve waved him away briskly with a hand, and then sagged a little. “Bud I amb a liddle cold in bed.”
Tony sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? How long have you been like this?”
“Because you were wordking,” Steve replied, and then sniffed heavily. “Anb… a couble days?”
“You should have told me you weren’t feeling good,” Tony rolled his eyes, waving a hand to get JARVIS to save and close down all his files. “Are you hungry? My culinary skills aren’t perfect, but I’m sure I could manage some chicken soup and crackers -”
“Bo,” Steve shook his head, but gratefully accepted the hug Tony gave him after crossing the room. “Tirbed.”
“Tired,” Tony nodded. “Well, let’s go to bed, then. You feel like you have a fever.”
Steve did feel unbearably warm. He usually ran a little hotter than normal, of course, but this was on a whole different level. The poor guy was practically scalding to the touch, for god’s sake.
“I boo beel a liddle warmb,” Steve admitted, allowing Tony to take his hand and lead him up the stairs from his workshop.
“I’ll get you a cool, wet towel to put on your head,” Tony promised, leading him towards their bedroom. “We’ll have JARVIS take your temperature, and I’ll get you the towel and maybe a nice glass of water while you settle into bed. It might be a good idea to sleep naked - what a shame -”
“Tank boo, Tomby,” Steve cut over him, and Tony paused in the hallway just outside their room.
“For what?” he asked, genuinely confused as he reached up and cupped Steve’s burning face.
“Bor looging afber be,” Steve replied simply, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned his face into Tony’s hands.
“Well, what else was I gonna do?” Tony huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You take care of me all the time, Steve. Let me repay the favour?”
Steve nodded his head wearily. “Ob course.”
Smiling faintly, Tony leaned up and pecked Steve gently on the lips. “Okay then. You get your butt in that room and strip off, and I’m gonna get you a cool, damp towel, okay?”
“Ogay,” Steve replied with a small smile of his own.
Your last day of tenth grade before summer should have been amazing, but it wasn’t. Class finished before lunch and everyone had a huge party in the park just down the road from the school. It was a gorgeous day as you, Bucky and Steve walked together amidst the gaggle of students, shouting and laughing. You and Steve had peeled off as many layers as possible, still sweating in the head of the summer sun.
You collapsed on the first patch of free grass you could find, grabbing the bottle of water from your bag and downing it, feeling much better for it after. Someone who lived nearby had dragged a barbeque to the park from their house and lit it up, people with cars doing food runs. Soon everyone was passing round money for burgers and lining up for the food.
“Bucky aren’t you boiling?” You ask when you sit back down with your food. While you and Steve were in as little clothing as possible, Bucky kept on his long sleeve sweater.
“No I’m fine.” He insists. You press the back of your hand against his forehead and find it boiling hot and wet with sweat.