Tumgik
#rogers
oh-my-damn · 1 year
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Ethereal
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A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about living next to puppy Steve and not knowing he's cap. So here's a mini-series!
Series Masterlist
Part 2
Pairing: TWS!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader
Summary: When you move into your new apartment the last thing you'd expected was the greek god living next door to you.
Warnings: Steve is a literal golden retriever, riding on a motorcycle, mutual pining (a lot), reader doesn't know Steve is Cap, alcohol consumption, being awkward, first date vibes, Steve is a cutie.
Word Count: 5300
The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics
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When you found a cheap apartment in an old but well-kept building in Brooklyn Heights, you were relieved.
You'd been searching for a new place to live for a while, after you found out the building you'd been living in was going co-op.
You had no means to pay for that old apartment, and even if you did, you wouldn't have wanted to. It was run down, new problems seemingly appearing every day, and there was no way you would have tied yourself to that place for good.
So when you found your new apartment you were excited; the building was old, but clearly well taken care of, and it was in a safe neighborhood. You lived in Williamsburg before, so you had no problem with staying in Brooklyn. In fact, you preferred it.
It took you about an hour to get to university, but you didn't mind the travel time. You would always spend that time studying, catching up on whatever you were missing, or getting ahead of next weeks readings.
You'd also always loved riding on the train; it could be hot, and cramped, and uncomfortable, but it also provided you with a sort of peace. You enjoyed people watching, or gazing out the window with your headphones on. Riding on the train provided a forced tranquility, because you knew, no matter what, you had to spend an hour or so on there. And so it forced you to disconnect with the outside world and in turn, connect with yourself. Even if it was just for a little while.
The day you moved into your new apartment you remember a feeling of curiosity. You remember lugging your boxes up to the top floor and down the hall, unlocking your front door as your gaze moved to the door further down the hall.
Your neighbor lived at the end of the hallway, while you lived to the right. You didn't know anything about who occupied the space; the only thing you knew was that someone lived there, by the doormat placed on the floor.
The apartment didn't have a specific name attached to its mailbox, only initials, and that was both intriguing and unsettling.
S. G. R.
You've met many people in your life who value their privacy, but not even providing a name on their own mailbox seemed excessive to you. Your first thought was how much of a hassle it must be to have packages delivered - you know for a fact that your online shopping habit would severely suffer if your name wasn't properly visible on your mailbox.
You moved in with no issues, other than a bit of sweat and a few groans of exhaustion.
Within a month, you'd gotten used to living there; it was almost like you'd lived there your entire life. You'd always leave early in the morning to get to class, and you'd often arrive home after dinner time, choosing to stay on campus to study, or go out with your friends.
All in all, it was a normal apartment, and it allowed you to live a completely ordinary life.
Until that fateful day back in March.
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You arrive home earlier than usual. The entire day has been a disaster; first you missed your train, resulting in you being late for class, and then you spilled your coffee down the front of your shirt as you were walking across campus. When class was over, you'd talked yourself into staying and catch up on your reading, only to realize you'd forgotten the book for the course you needed to catch up on.
With a heavy sigh, and even heavier footsteps, you trudge up the stairs to your apartment. You're cursing yourself for forgetting your book, because you know that once you're inside, your urges will get the best of you, and you'll probably end up watching TV instead of catching up on your studies.
You release another heavy sigh when you reach your floor, turning the corner in the direction of your front door. Your eyes are locked on your feet as they carry you along, your bones tired and exhausted from this utter disappointment of a day.
But then your ears perk up when you hear the familiar sound of a key sliding into a lock.
Your eyes flit up to look ahead of you, breath almost hitching when they land on a tall blonde man, his broad back hunched over slightly as he unlocks his door.
Your feet still, making you stop just a few steps from your front door. The change in movement makes the stranger ahead of you glance over his shoulder, his brows furrowing for a moment before he turns around to face you.
"Hi," he says, grazing you with a dazzling smile, "You must be my new neighbor."
His voice is deep yet gentle, matching the hypnotizing features on his face. A strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, matched with a pair of bright blue eyes and pink, plump lips.
He's fucking ethereal.
You can practically feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you take in his full form, eyes gazing over his 6'2 frame. Broad shoulders to match his back, curving into a narrow waist, and legs that go on for days. His short, blonde hair is a little mussed up, his eyebrows raised in a question.
He's wearing a navy blue jacket, which matches his jeans, and a white t-shirt underneath. Entirely ordinary yet painfully breathtaking.
You're not sure you've ever seen a specimen quite like him.
When he tilts his head ever so slightly, you snap out of the daze he brought you in.
"Yeah, uh, hi. I guess I am. I just moved in."
You gesture towards your front door, and the stranger nods in acknowledgement.
"I heard some ruckus," he chuckles, bright white teeth practically blinding you, "I'm sorry I didn't come around to introduce myself earlier, I've been a little preoccupied with work."
You wave a dismissive hand as you smile, "Oh, no worries. I know how it is. But I'm glad we finally met, I was starting to wonder who lived next door."
"Yeah?" He asks with a grin, "Why?"
"Because I've never seen anyone," you chuckle, "I was starting to suspect it was an investment property or something. Figured no one lived there."
The stranger laughs, the sound a bubbling melodic tune that makes your heart beat excitedly. It's a beautiful, genuine sound, that makes you feel special in a way you can't quite explain.
"Oh, I live here, don't you worry," he replies, his smile turning softer, "I've been away for a little while, but I'm back now. I did hear you move in, though, but I had to leave for work early the next day, so I didn't have time to come by and welcome you to the building."
You nod, "Okay, I see. What do you do for work?"
His brows furrow momentarily before he shrugs, "You know, I work jobs here and there. I travel a lot, though."
"You're an easy neighbor to have, then," you joke, tilting your head, "I guess I won't have to worry about you making a noise complaint."
He laughs again, the sound is practically addicting to your ears, "No, you won't have to worry about that, I promise. I usually keep to myself."
You nod and hum, holding eye contact for a moment longer before your eyes dart to your front door, "Good to know.. Well, it was really nice to meet you, uhh..?"
He smiles, hesitating for a moment before he says, "Steve. Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you too."
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Two days later, you're out for drinks with your friends, excitedly telling them about the greek god living next door to you.
"I swear to god, he's fucking ethereal. Like, insane. I can't even explain it."
You take another large sip of your drink as your friends giggle.
"You have to show me a picture!" Janine says excitedly, eyes wide as she looks at you, "Come on, show us his social media!"
"That's the thing!" You exclaim, placing your drink perhaps a bit too harshly back on the table, "I tried to look him up but I couldn't find any social media accounts for him. It was so frustrating because apparently he shares a name with one of those Avenger guys, so it was practically impossible."
You take another eager sip as your friend, Melanie, narrows her eyes at you, "What do you mean he shares a name with one of the Avengers? Who?"
You wave your hand dismissively, "I don't fucking know those guys, you know that, but when I googled his name all of these articles for those guys showed up so I couldn't find anything on him. I didn't feel like sifting through all of that."
Your friends share a knowing look before Melanie leans closer to you on the table, "What did you say his name was?"
"Steve," you chirp, sipping your drink through the straw happily, "Steve Rogers."
Your friends share another look, although this one seems more shocked than before, making you look between the two of them.
"What?" You ask, watching their expressions, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing!" Janine immediately interjects, glancing quickly at Melanie before she looks back at you, "It's nothing. But that sucks, you gotta take a sneaky picture next time you're able to."
You snort, "Okay, I'll try, but I haven't seen him since we met the other day. He gets really busy with work, apparently."
"I'm sure he does..." Melanie replies, taking another sip of her drink.
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After one too many cocktails, you called an uber to get back home. You're trying to stay focused as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, swaying ever so slightly with every step.
"Almost there," you mumble as you reach the final step, "God I'm tired.."
You round the corner and head towards your door, pulling your keys out of your bag.
Right as you find the right one, and struggle to slide it into the lock, your neighbors' door opens.
"Hey," a deep voice says, making you glance in its direction, "You okay?"
Your eyes find a pair of beautiful cerulean ones, your cheeks growing warm at his presence.
"Yeah," you drunkenly giggle, moving your attention back to your key as you try to slide it into the lock, "I'm fine, just need to figure out how to unlock the door.."
You hear a quiet chuckle and then approaching footsteps before Steve is standing right beside you, a large hand reaching out to cover your own.
"Here, let me help you."
He easily unlocks your door, handing the keys back to you with a smile.
"Thank you," you hiccup, smiling goofily up at him, "You didn't have to, I could have figured it out myself.. Eventually.."
"Yeah," he chuckles, smiling down at you, "But then you'd probably have spent half your night out here."
You giggle again, shaking your head, "Noooo, I would have figured it out."
"Mhmm," Steve hums, placing a strong hand on the small of your back when you stumble where you stand, "Sure. You need help getting inside?"
"No no," you immediately respond, frowning up at him seriously, "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."
"Okay, big girl," Steve chuckles as you step over the threshold, "Just make sure to drink some water, okay? And maybe some painkillers, too."
"Will do," you grin, gripping the door handle to keep you steady, "Thank you, Steve."
"Anytime."
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3 days later you're walking home from school when you notice a motorcycle parked in front of your building. You look it over for a minute, impressed by how well kept it is despite it being an older model. You don't know a lot about motorcycles, but you know enough to realize it's a Harley-Davidson and that the design is a classic.
Your dad taught you what little knowledge you possess on motorcycles since he owned a Harley himself back when you were a kid.
You hesitantly let your fingers graze over the cushioned leather seat, the material soft against your fingertips.
"This is nice," you mumble to yourself absentmindedly, brows furrowing momentarily. It's clean, practically shiny, which makes you wonder where it's usually parked. Whoever owns it must have a covered parking space for it.
Just as your fingers lift from the leather cushion, the building door opens. Your eyes flit up to the figure walking down the steps to your building, heading in your direction, and you feel a flurry of butterflies when you recognize the man approaching you.
He's wearing a brown leather jacket this time, with a grey t-shirt underneath, a pair of blue jeans to finish off the look.
You can practically see the outline of his undoubtedly defined abs through the tight t-shirt and the thought alone makes your cheeks heat up.
"Hi Steve," you say with a smile as he walks in your direction.
His face splits into a wide smile, shoving his hands into his pockets once he descends the steps and walks over to where you're standing by the bike, "Hey neighbor. Nice to see you again. How's your head?"
Haven't had any complaints so far...
You chuckle, resisting the urge to make the dirty joke that popped into your mind, a small shake of your head as you speak, "That was 3 days ago. Hangover is long gone. But thank you for helping me inside, that was nice of you."
"Of course," he beams, a bashful shrug of his shoulders, "It was nothing. What else are neighbors for, right?"
"Right," you nod, smiling shyly when your eyes flit down to the motorcycle in an effort to hide your flushing cheeks.
"You like it?" Steve asks when he notices your gaze trailing over the bike, "Just pulled it out of storage today. Figured it was time to take it for a ride, now that the weather is getting warmer."
Your eyes dart up to meet his, brows raised in surprise, "This is yours?"
"Yeah," Steve replies, patting the leather seat as if it was a horse, "I used to have a different one but I like this newer model, too. Drives like a dream."
"Of course it does," you snort, fingers lightly touching the sleek silver on the side, "It's a Soft Slim, they're spectacular. Harley does good work in general, but they certainly stepped their game up with this model."
Steve quirks a brow at you, his eyes slowly moving over your face as you continue looking at his bike, "You know motorcycles?"
You shrug, "A little bit. My dad is a Harley-Davidson enthusiast, so I know some. Not a lot, though. But I know this model. She's a beaut."
"Yeah, she is," Steve chuckles, his head tilting slightly as he looks at you, "I was just about to go for a ride. Care to join me?"
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The brisk spring air breezing through your hair send shivers down your spine as you race down the almost deserted highway. Steve takes an exit, heading towards New Jersey, and you cling to him as your arms are wrapped around his waist.
He's in complete control of the bike in a way that seems almost effortless; it moves with him in every turn, and even at high speeds, you sense no hesitation in him.
It almost feels like flying.
Your arms tighten their hold a little more when the cold air nips at the bare skin on your neck, instinctively burrowing your face into his back.
He tilts his head slightly, and lifts his shoulder, seemingly inviting you to tuck your face into the crook of his neck.
You only hesitate for a moment before you bury your face in his neck, pressing your chest to his back, his warm skin heating you up almost instantly. He tilts his head more to give you proper space, leaning his back into your chest.
Your arms tighten in response, a small smile grazing your lips as you breathe in deeply. His clean and fresh scent envelopes you, making the shivers running down your back happen for a very different reason than before.
Your thighs tighten where they are on the outer side of his, holding onto him more firmly, and by all accounts, it appears he's enjoying it.
He speeds up experimentally, making you let out a small squeak before you hold onto him even tighter, and you swear you hear the melodic sound of his laugh before it's swallowed up by the wind.
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Eventually Steve brings you back home, the city of Brooklyn enveloped in darkness, the lampposts on the side of the road the only thing lighting your way.
He drives into a spot in front of the building and you reluctantly unwrap your arms from his waist, sliding off the bike.
He parks the bike and gets off, standing in front of you with a soft smile on his lips. His cheeks are the faintest shade of pink, probably from the cold, and his hair is mussed up in a cute way that makes you yearn to run your fingers through it.
You smile up at him, another small shiver running down your spine, and Steve immediately notices. He shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, "I'm sorry, I should have figured you'd get cold. I hope it wasn't too bad?"
He has no idea you've been shivering this entire time, or that your shivers are triggered by something other than the cold.
"It's okay," you respond with a warm smile, "I wasn't cold while you were driving, you're surprisingly hot."
Steve's lips lift into a goofy grin, making you immediately backtrack, "Oh my god, uh, I mean warm. You're surprisingly warm."
"I got it, don't worry," he chuckles, placing a protective hand on the small of your back before he starts guiding you in the direction of your building, "Let me walk you up."
You chuckle, walking beside him up the steps, "I don't think it counts as walking me up when you're going the same direction yourself."
He snorts and shakes his head, "Probably not. But I would have done it if I didn't live here, too."
"Such a gentleman," you muse, your fingers gripping the hem of his jacket. It smells like him, that clean, fresh scent, and you'd want to drown in that smell if you could.
"I try," he jokes, grinning at you quickly.
You reach your apartment door, and once you're standing in front of it, you slide his jacket off your shoulders, "Thank you for lending this to me. That was nice."
"Even if it was short lived," Steve responds as he takes his jacket from you, "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you before we left on the drive."
"Steve, don't worry about it," you reply earnestly, "I promise, I wasn't cold. Not until I had to unwrap myself from you, at least."
Steve's eyes lock on yours, a tension filling the small space between the two of you as you look up at him. His smile is soft, gentle, a quiet hum leaving his lips as he nods.
"I'm sorry you had to do that, then."
"It's alright," you grin teasingly, "Maybe I'll get to do it again some time."
"I would love that," Steve immediately responds, a wide smile breaking out on his lips, "For there to be a next time, I mean. Doesn't have to be a drive, either."
"No?" You tease, your head tilting as your eyes stay locked on his, "What did you have in mind?"
"A cup of coffee?" He asks, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit hallway.
"I like coffee," you smile, nodding, "I'd love to."
"It's a date," he firmly replies, his fingers fiddling with the keys in his hand, "Maybe in the next few days?"
"Sure!" You beam up at him, immediately reaching into your bag, "Let me give you my number, that might make it easier to plan."
"Oh, uh, yeah, okay," Steve responds, hands clasping over his pockets almost as if he's unsure where his phone is.
When he brings out a flip phone, you snort. "That's your phone?"
Steve's cheeks tinge pink, this time certainly not from the cold, a small nod of his head, "Yeah, I uh.. I'm not really good with technology. Needed something easy."
You chuckle, "Okay, fair enough."
You take his phone, putting your number in and sending yourself a text. "There. Now we have each others numbers. Just text me when you have time to grab that cup of coffee."
"Will do," Steve responds, lingering for a moment as he stands in front of you.
When he suddenly leans down and places a quick kiss on your cheek, your breath hitches, and you fight the urge to pull him closer.
"I had a great time," he says as he takes a few steps backwards, in the direction of his apartment, "Have a good night."
"Goodnight, Steve."
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A few days pass without you running into Steve in the hallway again. It's also been very quiet, you haven't heard a peep from your neighbor, which is surprising because the walls aren't that thick. You can always hear your downstairs neighbor, especially if they're listening to music or have people over, so you're surprised you never hear anything from Steve.
No movement, no accidental run ins, no noises. Nothing. Only silence.
It makes you wonder if he's even home.
A week after your bike ride, you finally hear from him.
You're sitting on your couch, watching one of your favorite shows on TV while binging a tub of ice cream. It's Saturday night, and you weren't in the mood to go out even though your friends tried to convince you. It'd been a long week at university and the only thing you were in the mood for this weekend was to stay at home in your sweats and watch silly sitcoms to get your mind to relax.
You phone chimes just after 8pm, alerting you to a text message.
You pick up your phone while licking your spoonful of ice cream clean, your eyes flicking from the TV to your phone screen. Your brows raise in surprise when you see who it's from, a snort leaving your lips.
Steve Rogers: How's your Saturday night?
You: Oh hello there, stranger. I was starting to think perhaps you'd moved
Steve Rogers: I'm sorry, I had a work emergency I had to take care of. I've been gone for the past few days, just got back. How has your week been?
Your brows furrow at his response. What does this guy do for work?
The last time you asked, his response was pretty vague, but he obviously does something that's important enough for him to leave without notice. Often.
You: It's been alright, nothing exciting to report. Mainly just studying and classes. How's yours been?
Steve Rogers: A little rough. Had to deal with a tough project at work, but it's over now, luckily. At home licking my wounds now
You: Wounds? Literal or metaphorical?
Steve Rogers: Little of both
You blink in surprise, putting down your ice cream to be able to text quicker.
You: What? Are you hurt?
Steve Rogers: I'll be okay, I'm just tired. I'm sorry I didn't follow up on our coffee date, though. I hope you didn't lose faith in me
You: Was just about to, but then you texted, so I'll give you another chance
Steve Rogers: Yeah? When do you have time?
Steve Rogers: Are you busy right now?
Your brows raise in surprise at the double text as well as the question.
You: It's a little late for coffee, don't you think?
Steve Rogers: How about tea, then?
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You manage to tidy yourself up a little bit, tossing on a tank-top instead of the oversized shirt you were wearing when there's a knock on your door.
You're still in your sweats from earlier, but you don't really mind that; he messaged you with very short notice, so he couldn't exactly be expecting you to look all dressed up.
You unlock your door before opening it, grinning up at Steve when he comes into view, "Hey there."
"Hi," Steve smiles, his hands shoved into his pockets, "Nice to see you again."
You let your eyes trail over his form; he's in a white t-shirt, one that's tight and allows you to see the firm outline of his torso (you suspect tight t-shirts are his signature, by now), and you apparently guessed right on keeping your sweats on, because he's in a pair of his own. A grey pair, to be exact.
Your eyes move up to take in the features of his face, lingering on his beautiful, baby blue eyes and pink plump lips. But then your brows instantly furrow when you notice the small mark on his cheekbone.
"Oh," you breathe out, instinctively stepping closer, and before you can even stop yourself, you reach up, letting your fingers gently touch the skin right below the mark, "Are you okay?"
You can tell Steve tenses at your touch, making you immediately remove your hand before you step back again, mumbling, "Uh, sorry, I shouldn't-"
"No, it's alright," Steve interrupts, putting up a hand to stop you, "Don't worry, I was just caught off guard. It hurts a little, but it'll go away soon. Promise."
"Okay," you reply with a small nod, smiling softly as your eyes meet his. Then you step aside, gesturing to your apartment, "Well, come on in."
Steve smiles as he walks inside, continuing further as you close the door behind him. He wanders into the open kitchen, eyes moving over the space and to the living room area.
"This is nice," he hums, placing his hands in his pockets, "I like what you did with the place."
You chuckle, "Thanks. I only buy the finest Ikea furniture."
Steve lets out a melodic laugh, following your movement when you walk into the kitchen. You reach up to pull open the cupboard as you ask, "So, what kind of tea do you like?"
You don't hear a response immediately, but you almost jump in surprise when you suddenly hear his voice from right behind you, "What kinds do you have?"
You glance over your shoulder, eyes locking with the blonde man towering over you. You smirk, "Well, you tell me. Seems like you can see better than I can."
Steve snorts, stepping closer before his attention is pulled to the inside of the cupboard. He reaches up, his chest brushing against your back when he grabs for a packet and places it on the counter in front of you, "I like this one."
You release a quiet, unsteady breath when you feel the warmth of him pressing against your back, your fingers reaching for the packet of tea.
"Black tea," you hum, picking two tea bags out of the box, "Good choice."
You slide a little to the side, reaching for two mugs in a different cupboard, still nervously aware of his close presence.
"I'm glad you think so," Steve hums, following your movement. He stands behind you again, taking the mugs for you when you stand up on your tip toes to reach them, "Did you know that was the kind of tea the British soldiers drank during World War II?"
Your brows raise in surprise, looking up at him over your shoulder, "No, I didn't. That's pretty cool."
Steve grins, nodding as he places the two mugs on the counter, "Yeah, uh, actually the British government bought out practically all the tea in Europe in order to be able to give them to the soldiers on the frontlines."
"Wow," you respond, your brows furrowing, "That's actually crazy. How could they even do that?"
You walk over to the kettle, filling it with water so you can boil it, while Steve moves to lean on your kitchen counter. He shrugs, "Guess they just decided it was worth it, to keep morale up."
"Hm," you hum, turning on the kettle before you turn to him, "That was really nice of them. I didn't think the government cared much about their soldiers, to be honest. All you ever hear about are the glory while they're away, and then those horror stories when they come back and have PTSD."
Steve's face falls a little, his hands going back into his pockets as he nods slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Perhaps the British government cared more about their soldiers then they do here.."
"Yeah," you mumble, your fingers reaching for the packet to fiddle with it, "My brother was actually in the army.."
"He was?" Steve asks curiously, "For how long?"
"A long time," you sigh, "Too long. He wasn't the same when he came back home.."
"That happens," Steve replies quietly, "A lot, unfortunately."
You glance over at him, watching how his eyes are trained on the floor. You tilt your head, asking hesitantly, "Is that something you know a lot about? The army?"
"Kinda," he shrugs, offering you a small smile when he looks back up at you, "I was also in the army. I still kind of am, I guess.." He cringes a little, making you turn to directly face him.
You take a small step closer, slowly lifting your hand until your fingers are almost brushing his cheek as you hold eye contact, "Is that how you got this?"
Steve's lips part in a nervous breath when you lean closer, his hands bracing the edge of the counter as he leans on it. His baby blues hold yours, dipping his head ever so slightly until your fingertips trail over his skin.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"But you're not shipped out?" You inquire, your fingers trailing down his cheek to his jaw, "You live here, and you don't go away for months at a time."
"I'm a.. different kind of soldier," he whispers, his face slowly leaning closer to yours, "But I used to be in the army."
"So, you got promoted?" You tease, your voice low. Your fingers trail down his jaw, to the column of his neck, Steve's breath hitching when the delicate touch tickles his skin.
"You could say that," he smiles softly, his eyes burning into yours intensely as he continues slowly leaning closer, "The job isn't very different, though. But I get to go home more often."
You hum, nodding slowly as your fingers curl around his neck hesitantly. You break eye contact for a moment, eyes dropping to his lips, your stomach doing a flip when his tongue darts out to lick them.
Your eyes raise up to meet his again, the hand curled around the back of his neck slowly pulling him closer until you can feel your breaths mixing.
You look up at him with wide eyes, your nerves on edge, and it's almost like your mind goes blank when he whispers, "Can I kiss you?"
You nod immediately, there's no way in hell you'd ever say no.
Steve's eyes drop to your lips, inching himself closer until they softly brush over yours, and then you let out a content sigh when he presses them firmly against your own. You pull him closer by the hand curled around his neck, one large hand landing on your waist to pull you into his chest.
Your other hand slides up his chest to his shoulder, gripping it as your lips glide over his in perfect synchronization.
You lose yourself in the softness of his lips, your unsteady breaths mixing, and you're only faintly aware when you hear the water boiling in the background.
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ultralightpoe · 5 months
Text
Copy Cap - Steve Rogers
Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN
Word Count: 1,601
Warnings: slutty is used A LOT
Description: Small halloween blurb.
This is a part of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour!
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Happy Halloween!
“What on earth is that?” The sound of Steve Rogers honest to god shocked voice draws your attention from the halloween decorations you had been sent out to get. You find him standing towards the end of the aisle where the kids' costumes started. 
Tony was throwing a halloween party within the tower, and he said that each Avenger HAD to be there. He sent a text out reminding each and everyone of you of a threat on what would happen if you did not attend ‘Starkoween’. And as much as you hated Tony’s parties you truly did not want him sending out the falls and mistakes that Jarvis has caught on tape over the years. The public did not need to see you running into the glass windows thinking it was open.
But not only had you been invited, no, you had been given a task from Tony. 
He apparently was out of lights, and he had also found out that you were short of a costume so he gave you his card and sent you on your way to complete his shopping and on your way out he pawned the super soldier off on you. 
It’s not that you hated Steve, the exact opposite actually. You had a huge crush on him, the kind that reduced you to very few words whenever he was near. Your heart beating through your chest and the need to impress him filling your bones. 
But he was the exact opposite, he liked to ignore you, and when he did actually talk to you it was always about work. He truly just could not be bothered by you. 
So it was odd, so freaking odd, when Steve agreed to ride with you to pick up his own costume. 
Which leads you to this moment, walking up behind Steve to where he is now glaring at a costume. A laugh threatens to escape you as you see what has his so irritated, your eyes catching on the slutty cap costume. 
The woman wore a very skimpy one piece that plunged down and barely covered her ass. It was placed together with male versions and kid versions, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. 
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just….. You look like a mom-” A cackle finally falls from your lips and he whirls on you with a shocked face, the hands on his hips just making it worse. 
“A mom?”
“YES!” “Do you realize how vulgar this costume is?” 
“It looks great, she looks great.” You sigh, finally beginning to calm down. “Not the best spot for it, but still a great costume.”
“It’s completely inappropriate.” He snaps out, snatching a random costume from the shelf and storming off. 
“I didn’t mean to make you mad!” You call after him, seeing his head shake as he keeps storming off. 
That stings, and just like every other conversation you have had with the man you are left feeling stupid. And that wasn’t fair because you were always trying. He NEVER tried. And honestly, you were sick of it. So you shoved the pumpkin and bat lights in the cart before grabbing your own costume and making your way to checkout. 
“You don’t understand, Nat.” Steve can do nothing but sigh out, one hand clenched around a beer bottle as he watches everyone pass around him. The beer was honestly just for show, truthfully he thought they tasted disgusting and the super soldier serum didn’t allow him to get drunk so he pretended to drink to blend in. Not that it truly mattered since he was hiding by Nat and Sam all night. “It was so embarrassing.”
“What about a slutty costume is embarrassing?” His friend laughs, sipping slowly on some weird cocktail that had gummy eyeballs floating through it. It was the first time he had seen her drink anything but a martini or beer. “I don’t think-”
“What does Y/n think of me?” 
“That…… you’re slutty?”
“Yes! Or just… it’s embarrassing that she might view me like a joke. I mean if people can dress me that way then what do they think of me? What does SHE think of me?”
“I think that you are overthinking this whole thinking thing.” Sam sighs, rubbing his eyelids. “I seriously doubt that costume made Y/n think of you in a bad way, everything can be turned into a slutty costume these days. A nun can be-”
“What about nuns?” Bucky asks, walking up with another round of drinks balanced in his hand. 
“Slutty nuns on Halloween. I was telling Steve that anything can be slutty on halloween. Hell I’ve seen girls dress as slutty corn-” Sam starts. 
“Slutty teacher.” Tony cuts in.
“Don’t forget slutty michael myers.” Wanda supplies, fixing the pirate hat she wore. 
“Or slutty pirate!” Nat points and Wanda looks completely shocked. “Says the slutty mouse!”
“You guys are saying slutty wayyyyy too much.” Bruce sighs before Bucky smiles from ear to ear. 
“How about slutty Y/n?” He blurts and Steve’s head whips towards him, anger coursing through his blood as Bucky looks back to him. “Watch yourself James.”
“No, look at your girlfriend.” Bucky teases, pointing in your direction. Steve finds you in an instant, coming down the steps from the living quarters with a wide smile on your own face. Your walk is smooth, and Steve cannot pull his eyes away from you in the slutty cap costume he had seen at the store. 
You had paired it with thigh high red heels and red lipstick, the mask covered half your face but it was very easy to recognize you. 
The beer bottle in his hand shatters and multiple turn to see the commotion, party goers spotting all the Avengers and suddenly move forward to greet the group. But Steve is already moving through them to get to you, not even bothering to apologize when he bumped into people. 
“Y/n.” He calls, face heated as he tries to catch your attention. “Hey-”
“Eyyy, It’s lady liberty over here-” A drunken voice catches his attention, filling his vision before he could get to you. And the second he sees the drunk abe lincoln heading towards you a wave of jealousy fills him.
  It’s not really fair, he knows this. He avoids talking to you because he doesn’t want to look like a fool but he hates when other people talk to you. A never ending game. 
“Y/n! Hey-” He calls again, feeling his chest lighten when you finally glance over at him. 
“Captain America!” Drunken Abe calls, reaching a hand out for a high five. “Hate to say it but she wore it better-”
“Don’t I know it.” Steve blushes, finally within arms reach of you.
“I’m not changing.” You snap, crossing your arms. “And before you start you should just be thankful that I didn’t buy the little shield.”
“I wasn’t gonna say you should change, you look…… you look great.”
“Oh? Not too vulgar?” You glare and his fight or flight begins to kick in. Landing on flight.
“Did I…. have I made you mad?” He asks, rubbing at his chest, trying not to blush too much. He probably looked insane, standing in a turtle costume while you are here looking like an actual goddess. 
“Did you make me mad? You were mad earlier!”
“I… what?”
“You snapped earlier and stormed off.”
“Because I looked like an idiot!”
“Oh whatever-” You go to walk off and he finds himself following you. 
“Wait, just hold on-”
“You realize this is like the third actual conversation we have had that lasts more than two sentences?”
“I do.” Entirely his fault, he could never seem to figure out what to say. 
“And you always act like an ass-”
“I don’t mean to. Wait just let me explain, okay?”
You squint, watching him for a moment before sighing and nodding. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” He sighs, leading you to a quieter side of the room, the lights around you both flashing bright. “I just… okay here goes nothing-”
“You’re wasting my time.”
“I know, it’s just I don’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth?”
“The truth? Okay. You make me feel like an idiot. Not on purpose but you do. It’s been nearly 100 years under the ice, 100 years since I talked to a woman and I was still unpracticed before I went under. And then I come out and I am living with this absolute gorgeous gal who is just…. perfect . I am so under prepared for anything, I know nothing of the new world and I think everything I say is wrong.”
You're watching him with such intense eyes he might die. 
“And then today, I finally talk myself into trying to talk to you and before I get a chance I saw the costume and I just felt…”
“Stupid?”
“Yes. Embarrassed and like I was the butt of a joke. Truth is I really like you, and here you are wearing a copycat of my costume while I am dressed up as a Ninja teenage mutant turtle-” Before he can finish his sentence your mouth his on his own, and he can’t breathe. 
Kissing back deeply and falling into a trance as his hands move up to hold the sides of your head. By the time you both pull back the red lipstick is covering half your chin. “I don’t think you’re stupid and I love the costume.” You smile and before he knows it he is reaching down to kiss you again.
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smashlovesscream · 5 months
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Hey silk man
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This is you‼️
YEAH
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LIDERALLY MALEWIFE, MEOW MEOW, GRRR WOOF WOOF USBDOKASJSOA
i'd motorboat this man
I like my men nice, tall, and have at least one white ass name
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detroitlib · 23 days
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View of the first four boosters of the Housewives League of Detroit. The women are wearing winter coats and hats; three of the women are carrying briefcases, one is carrying a purse. Printed on front: "Theus Photo". Handwritten on back: "MS/ Housewives League of Detroit - Box 4; First Housewives League of Detroit Boosters; l. to r. Mrs. Naomi Dean, Mrs. Mary Beasley, Mrs. Gertrude Tolbert Rogers, Mrs. Ethel Hemsley." Photograph taken by Theus Photo Service, 4508 Hastings, Detroit, Mich. c. 1930.
Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library
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roughridingrednecks · 1 month
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Rogers
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politicsofcanada · 11 months
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Dozens of Toronto residents are now boycotting Home Hardware due to the company's "engagement" with a specific advertising company that advocates claim "lock out unionized performers." 
In a recent post to a local community Facebook group, one Toronto resident informed other members that the home improvement retailer was one of the companies named on ACTRA's (Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists) boycott list.
"Did you know that Home Hardware is on a boycott list issued by ACTRA, the union of Canadian performers on TV and film? Why? Because they buy their ads from a company that has locked out unionized performers for the last year in an attempt to break the union," the post reads.
[...]
Other companies listed on the ACTRA lockout include H&R Block, Canadian Tire, Rogers, Wendy's, and Sleep Country.
Full article
Tagging: @allthecanadianpolitics
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mote-historie · 1 month
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1910s Fashion Illustration, detail, by Jane Rogers.
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Rogers Communications says it will credit its customers for five days of service following its massive network outage last week that affected cellular and internet service for millions of Canadians.
The outage, which started Friday and lingered for many into the weekend, also disrupted government services and payment systems, prompting criticism and questions from the federal government and telecommunications regulator.
"We have been listening to our customers and Canadians from across the country who have told us how significant the impacts of the outage were for them," Chloe Luciani-Girouard, a spokeswoman for Rogers Communications, said in an email to CBC News.
"We know that we need to earn back their trust."
Continue Reading.
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
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Steve Rogers x Reader ~ Early Morning Showers  [Shield Adventures]
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A/N: Hi, guys. Sorry for the short fic this time around. I didn’t want to force myself to add more when I’m content with how everything is now. Stay tuned for more!
[My Marvel Masterlist]
Word Count: 1154
When Steve habitually woke up at 0600 on a Saturday morning, he was expecting to find (Y/n) nestled underneath the thick duvet, snoring away for another three hours before her alarm was set to go off. Yet, when the blond super soldier manages to peel open his bleary eyes, an arm reaching out beside him to hug his wife, he is met with a cold bed sheet and soft impression of her body pressed into the mattress.
“Not again…”
Steve comes to the conclusion that the chances of her having left to use the bathroom are slim, given that (Y/n)’s side of the bed would still be warm in that scenario, so he decides to roll out of bed to check the next possible location: the kitchen.
Sock-clad feet shuffle softly on the laminate floors as Steve makes his way to the kitchen in the search for his wife. He starts to lose hope in his assumption the further he walks down the hall. If she were rummaging around in the kitchen, he would be able to hear a huge commotion, or smell the food or coffee, before turning the corner.
“Maybe the balcony,” he mutters. (Y/n) loves to curl up with a blanket on the tufted lounge they purchased shortly after their marriage. She uses the time to gaze at the amazing view offered by the Avengers compound as she reflects on past events; there have been many instances in which the blond super soldier would be scrambling to find his wife, and during his frantic search, the woman in question was simply relaxing out in the balcony bundled up in a fuzzy blanket with a steaming mug of tea, staring off into the distance.
But when Steve turns to look at the balcony sliding door, he realizes it’s raining, so she would not be outside. A bit of panic rises in him once he realizes (Y/n) is not in her usual spots. 
Running over to the room door that serves as their front door—Tony assigned each Avenger their own cottage-sized room—Steve scans the rack of shoes to check for any missing pairs. Sure enough, there is a missing pair of boots he distinctly remembers buying for her last year in celebration of their anniversary. (Y/n) had been eyeing those shoes every time they took a trip to the mall, so Steve snuck out to purchase them on one of his days off when she flew off for a solo mission.
The clattering of keys breaks Steve out of his trip down memory lane. Instead of waiting for the door to be unlocked, the blond super soldier opens it from his side. The door practically flies off the hinges as he flings it open, scaring both himself and (Y/n) as the impact of the doorknob leaves a small indentation in the drywall.
“Steve, be more gentle with that door! I don’t want Tony to make a fuss about you damaging the place when he’s letting us stay for free.”
“It’s fine, I’ll patch it up later on today,” Steve mutters, glancing at the dent for only a brief second before shifting his focus back on (Y/n). All the pent up anxiety floods out and bombards her as the man interrogates his wife. “Where have you been? I was looking all over the place for you. I nearly called Nat to wake her up just to ask if you went over to her room.”
During his frantic questioning, (Y/n) awkwardly glances at the heavy piece of metal to her right. She needed a free hand to open the door, so she ended up resting it on the wall by the door. If Steve finds out, he will throw a fit.
“I just needed to stop by the drug store really quick,” (Y/n) explains as she holds up the several bags of snacks in her arms. 
“Did you buy everything they had in there? Here, let me help you.” Two hands immediately dart out to grab onto the heavy plastic bags, despite the fact that his wife is an Avenger with telekinesis and is perfectly capable of carrying her own shopping, while also gesturing for her to step inside. However, instead of walking in, (Y/n) keeps glancing to her side, which confuses Steve. “What? Did you buy even more stuff?”
“No, I…um-”
Before she can come up with an excuse, Steve is already stepping out to peer into the hallway. The sight should not surprise him, but it does. In the hallway, leaning against the wall, is his shield. It had not crossed his mind to look for the shield when he woke up to find (Y/n) was missing, again.
“(Y/n)!!”
Other than the fact that she had, once again, stolen his prized possession and weapon of choice, Steve is appalled to find the item in question being drenched in water. While he knows the metal will not rust—seventy years in the ice provides enough proof of that—he does not know why his wife needed to bring the shield along for an impromptu snack run. 
“Why exactly did you take my shield with you at 6 in the morning?” Steve sends a pointed look in her direction as he sets the bags down to bring in the shield. A foot stretches out to kick the door shut while he inspects the shield for any damages. Thankfully, the only thing he has to worry about is water stains.
“It was raining outside, and I couldn’t find an umbrella,” she explains casually with a slight pout. “There’s just enough surface area to cover me and my bags of snacks.”
In the darkness, Steve has a hard time reading her facial expressions clearly, but he can tell that something is off. She is telling the truth, that much is obvious, but there is a hint of nervousness in her voice that is leaving him worried once more. 
“Couldn’t the snacks have waited until later on? I would’ve gone with you.”
“Steve, I can handle a quick trip to the drug store.”
The finality in her voice leaves Steve hesitant to push the subject any further. Rather than risking the start of an argument. He knows (Y/n) will eventually bring up the subject later on in the future, so he raises his arms in defeat, choosing to busy himself with putting away the snacks from her recent shopping spree.
As he begins to store the bags of chips into the cabinet, the slamming of a door in the distance catches his attention. Steve briefly wonders if he should go check on (Y/n), but comes to the same conclusion as he did moments ago.
Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, (Y/n) opening the plastic bag she snuck inside. The four boxes scatter across the tiles as she tears into each one.
“Okay…let’s see if I’m right…”
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levelofyoureye · 9 months
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HUGE moment for annoying people (me)
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There are far too few colour promotional stills of these two out there.
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oh-my-damn · 1 year
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Philosophy 101
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Pairing: Jock!Steve Rogers x Sassy!Tutor!Reader
Status: Coming soon!
Summary: You've always been the smart girl. Be it in school or in life, but especially when it came to boys. You always steered clear of them, knowing they were nothing but trouble. Until a blue-eyed, muscular blonde turns your life upside down, and makes you question everything you thought you knew.
Word count: TBD
Warnings: Fluff, angst and smut (detailed warnings to be updated once the fic is posted)
The beautiful header is by my sweet bestie @justconfettiandsomeddew <3
The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics
SNEAK PEEK OF UPCOMING FIC UNDER THE CUT
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You spent two hours tutoring Steve in the library until it was time for your morning class. For some inexplicable reason, it was like time flew by, and you didn't even realize it was time to leave before you noticed people filtering out of the library.
Steve had progressed tremendously even in the short span of two hours, and you had to give it to Professor Adler – he was right.
Steve wasn't an idiot, far from it actually, but you suspected he had a hard time prioritizing. You got the sense that his main concern was football, and you couldn't fault him for that, knowing that's the case for a lot of the guys at your school.
Steve is reading through a paragraph when you notice the time, making you gently whisper, "I think we need to wrap it up, class is starting soon."
His head lifts in surprise, his face turning towards you, "It is? What time is it?"
You inhale quietly when he turns to face you, those baby blues practically inches from your face as you sit next to him. Steve is beautiful in a different way than the usual jocks around here; he is clean-shaven, his features had an innocence to them while simultaneously being devastatingly manly and handsome.
It was hard to describe it, really, and it made you a bit enamored with him. You'd caught yourself watching him for the past two hours, subtly of course, to ensure he wouldn't notice. You'd had to hide your smile when you noticed the dent in his nose, disrupting the straight line of it, undoubtedly from a football injury.
You'd also caught yourself staring at his long lashes, fluttering and touching his cheek whenever he blinked. They were thick, too, such wasted potential on a guy who would never understand what a blessing they are.
You noticed the small beauty marks on his skin; littered across his face, down his neck, branding him in a delicate way. Part of you wanted to trace them, run your fingers over his skin to feel whether it would be as soft as it looked.
Even his blonde hair, unkempt and mussed up as it was, made you yearn to run your fingers through it. His expressive eyebrows, his high cheekbones, his sharp jawline; staring at Steve was undoubtedly more interesting than studying – he was like a work of art, so effortlessly gorgeous, you weren't even sure he realized.
Of course he does. A guy like that knows how hot he is. You can tell by the way his large biceps are visible even through the lumpy fabric of his hoodie, his thick thighs not well hidden by his sweats. He was built, tall, muscular; a handsome football player, of course he realizes how gorgeous he is.
You offer him a small smile, glancing toward the clock on your laptop, "It's 9.10. We have class at 9.30. And I need to get something to eat before, I think, or I don't know if I'll make it through."
Steve lets out a chuckle at your words, and the melodic sound warms your veins in a comforting way. He's got a great laugh, of course he would, that beautiful bastard.
"You have a point, getting through Professor Adler's class on an empty stomach is near impossible."
You nod, mirroring his chuckle, "Yeah, exactly. But we made great progress today, you'll be just fine for the test, Steve. You're all good." You smile as you get up from your seat to gather your things, and Steve watches you for a moment before he blurts out, "Oh, uh, I don't know, I think I need a little more tutoring, just-"
You shake your head as you chuckle, "No, really Steve, I think you'll be alright for the test. You know this stuff, you just need to be confident about it."
Steve frowns as he watches you pack your books in your bag, glancing down at the textbook in front of him. He hadn't even realized that two hours had passed, it was like being in a different world this entire time.
He's noticed you before, more times than he can count. Not just because you were the smartest girl in class, and constantly had your hand up, but also because you were strikingly beautiful, in an understated way that made him curious to know more about you.
He wasn't sure if you even realized how pretty you were, he had a suspicion you didn't, or that, even if you did, you simply didn't care.
And that was fascinating to Steve. It had been from the very moment he first saw you in freshman year.
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avitha · 4 months
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A Christmas Miracle - Commission
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marner-hugs · 4 months
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William Nylander is the only Toronto Maple Leaf I acknowlege
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sarahsmi13s · 5 months
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Past Pursuits
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whumptober day 19: left behind / "why wasn't i enough?"
pairing: platonic!robert 'bob' floyd x y/n 'star' rogers
characters: bob floyd, y/n rogers, bob's mom
warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, canon death, death, death of a parent, grief, self-doubt, questioning worth, feelings of abandonment, driving in the rain, crying, endgame!steve, marvel/top gun maverick crossover, please let me know if I missed any
word count: ~1.7k
a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace
also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!
this is a part of the lieutenant rogers series, but can be read alone
i am so so sorry i got this up late, please forgive me
whumptober 2023 masterlist
summary: after star's father stays in the past when he returns the stones, she's hurt and angry. where better to go than to her best friend?
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One thing Bob wasn’t expecting to see on his parents front porch was his best friend soaked by the rain and her motorcycle under the carport. 
But there you stood, soak to the bone as your eyes welled up with tears and you fell into his arms.
He wasn’t sure why you were there in Colorado, sobbing into his neck and clinging to him like you had when the Avengers’ civil war sent your dad on the run. And he knew another Blip just happened, bringing back the half it stole five years ago. He knew that only because his mom's sister in law, May, had called her and his mom called him in tears saying that Peter and May were brought back. 
It could be any reason, he wasn’t certain though.
He just needed to know why you were crying, he was going to be there for you of course, but he wasn’t sure how to help because he didn’t know what was wrong.
So he pulled you in and got you a change of clothes from his sister and got you some hot coco before sitting on the couch with you under his arm.
“I’m sorry t-to just drop by like-like this… But N-Neil was de-deployed and I didn’t know where else to go…” 
Bob kissed your head, “It’s okay. I’m always here for you.” “Thank you Bob. Is.. Is it okay if we talk about it all tomorrow? I need to sleep on something that’s not a motel bed…” 
“So my Ma’s couch is better?” He said with a slight chuckle. “I know what’s been on this couch.” He shrugged, “Okay that’s fair.”
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The next morning Bob came downstairs to the smell of coffee but no you in the kitchen, just his mom.
“Hey where’s Y/N?” Bob asked as he poured coffee in a tumbler cup.
His mom turned and gave him a sad smile, “She’s out on the porch with a coffee. She’s… um she’s not doin’ okay Bobby… Take her on a drive. Get her to talk.” He nodded, “I will Ma.” 
Bob sighed a little and went outside to see you sitting on the step and looking out at the rain with your coffee cooling in your hands. 
“Hey Star… you okay?” 
You sniffle and shake your head, “No… no I’m not, Bobby…” 
“Do you wanna go for a drive?” You sniffled and looked at your feet, “You hate driving in the rain… your glasses fog up.” “But you like it, and this isn’t about me. I want to help you feel better.” 
He held out a hand to you, “So, let’s get you some fresher coffee, put you in some fresher clothes. And then blankets and a drive, you can sit in silence or vent that’s up to you, Star.” 
You look up at him and he hates how red your eyes are, “Thank you…” You wiped your eyes and took his hand. “What are friends for?”
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After getting changed into fresh out of the dryer clothes and then a small breakfast, Bob fixed you a tumbler of coffee grabbed fresh out of the dryer blanket before you both got in his truck, driving off to go down your favorite road.
You were silent for the most part, sniffling every once in a while as Bob drove the scenic route. 
Rain pelted the windshield and the windows, the weather around you matching the weather inside you. You stayed curled up against the door with a blanket wrapped around you.
You knew you needed to talk about it, if you didn’t you would explode at the wrong time and say the wrong thing in a fit of anger… risking it being the last thing you ever said to someone. 
That was the whole reason you came all the way down here after everything that happened in upstate New York. You went from upstate to Oceana to wish Omaha good luck on his deployment, to Colorado where you knew Bob was spending leave – having got back just before the second snap.
You needed someone, someone that would both understand and not understand your feelings. If Neil was still on dry land you would have brought him out here with you, to have the comfort of both your best friend and your boyfriend. But Bob had seen you in a similar state once before, he had an idea on how to handle it.
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Bob pulled his truck into a scenic outlook spot on the road. He knew you liked the area. You came out here with him on your motorcycle a few times.
He parked the truck and just sat there, picking up his coffee and listening to the low music coming from the radio. He wasn’t going to ask questions, knowing that you needed to open up in your own time.
And you would, about 15 minutes into sitting there.
“They’re gone Bobby…”
Your voice was so soft and meek that Bob almost didn’t realize you had spoken. 
He sat his tumbler down, “Who, Star? Who’s gone?”
“Tony… Nat… they’re gone,” you said, voice thick with emotion and tears. “They both sacrificed themselves to bring everyone back.”
“Oh Y/N… I’m so sorry.”
“It’s what heroes do though, right? Make the hard decisions so we don’t have to… sacrifice themselves for some dumb fucking rock. Snap their fingers to beat someone at their own game. Take the infinity stones back and leave your only fucking daughter behind in pursuit of your own fucking past because you can’t–”
You stopped yourself, realizing what you had begun to say.
“Y/N?” Bob said with an arched brow. 
“That… I…” He turned your head to look at your face. “Hey, what happened? I know Tony and Nat aren’t the reason you’re here… you’re upset at someone other than them.”
You sniffled and wiped your eyes before unbuckling to turn to him fully.
“I just got a-a run down from Bruce, I don’t really understand it but… In order to bring everyone back they had to go through time to get the stones… but once they were done with them, they had to take them back to ‘preserve the timeline’ or whatever.”
You sniffled again and ran a hand through your hair, “Dad… he-he volunteered to take the stones back after Tony’s and Nat’s funerals. He told me and Buck he was giving the shield to Sam and that’s not what I’m upset about…” 
Rubbing your face, you groaned, “But when he went back… he stayed in the past. With Peggy. So one minute I was looking at the dad I knew and the next I saw a man I barely recognized… He was older… had a wedding band, had a family with her…”
You sobbed and buried your face in your blanket. 
“He left me… He stayed with her and he had a family… Did-Did he even remember me? Did-did he even care that he lived a whole life without me…” 
“Star…” Bob said gently, trying to get you to look at him.
“Was I not enough for him? Was I so disappointing that he wanted to start over in a time I didn’t exist?”
Bob shook his head and scooted closer to you, “No, Y/N, that’s not the case at all. He loves you.”
“Then why couldn’t he just retire!? And not start over…” You look up at him, “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, you did nothing wrong,” Bob tried to assure you, reaching up to wipe your tears and frowning when you turned away. “Then why did he leave me behind?”
Bob shook his head, “Y/N…”
You shook your head, before burying it back in your blanket. Your sobs were muffled by the fabric as you put your hands over your head, shielding yourself from your best friend – trying to shield yourself from the universe.
You were angry with him before and now you were just… hurt.
What did the past have that you didn’t? Familiarity? Predictability? Peggy? 
Was that all this was? Chasing an 80 year old kiss? Leaving his daughter and two best friends for someone that thinks he’s dead?
But he was happy with her right? He went back and got to live with her, the love of his life. He got to be happy.
Except… could he not have been happy with you? With his best friends? With the people he left behind?
Bob gently put his hand on your leg, “Star, he loves you, I know he does. He’s so proud of you. He loves being your dad.”
“Then why did he stay… Why couldn’t he come back? I barely got a chance to have him as a dad… and then he started a whole new family…” 
“Have you talked to him about this? Did you tell him about how him staying in the past would make you feel?” 
“I… He looked so happy thinking about it… and at the time I thought about how if it was me and Oma, I would spend a life with him in a heartbeat.” You wiped your eyes with shaking hands, “But when I saw him something inside me just got so… angry and-and-and so hurt.”
You looked at him and Bob’s heart broke at the desperation in your eyes. “Why am I so angry? Why am I so angry that he lived a life? Why am I so angry that he got to be with the love of his life? Just… why?” 
Bob shook his head, “I’m sorry… I-I don’t know..” You sniffled and threaded your hands in your hair. “Hey, c’mere. C’mere,” he gently pulled your hands out of your hair and into his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. “I got you, I got you…”
You cried into his neck as he held you close, clinging to his shirt as he wrapped you in the blanket. 
He rested his head against yours. He wished he knew how to help you feel better, but this wasn’t something fixed with a few words. He tried that and it just made you more upset. This was something that you just needed to vent about and then work out later. You needed him to just listen and then hold you, that’s what he could do right now for you. 
So that’s what he did, he held you close in the cab of his truck as the rain got heavier and your sobs died down to weak cries before you fell asleep in his arms.
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taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233
lt. rogers tags <33: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @malindacath @twsssmlmaa @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233 @mayhemmanaged @nikkipea @that-one-random-writer
hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist
i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well
so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023
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Jimbo
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