#chinese reader

December, 2005

It was well past nine, perhaps even pushing ten. It was a cold evening, the kind of night where the frost on windows shone like stars under the illumination of the moonlight.

He’d been here before. She had invited him inside before for dinner. He was no stranger. He had practically toured every bit of her one bedroom apartment…well except for the bedroom itself.

However, his stay had always been within the respectable hours. He had always made sure to voluntarily take his leave before 8pm. He never overstayed. He respected the unspoken boundaries between a single girl who lived alone and any male company she invited into her home…for platonic reasons.

But tonight was different. This was the first time he’d stayed this late, sitting in her living room like this was normal.

She had invited him over, not for dinner but for a movie. “We could do something a little later in case you stay longer for work.” She told him to take his time and that 9pm sounded like a safe choice to avoid last minute adjustments.

She said it was safe. But was it?

Did she really think him to be the kind of guy who didn’t overthink what the odd start time is 9pm for a movie night had meant?

Maybe, she didn’t. But, that doesn’t change the fact that he wasn’t entirely the guy she thought him to be.

He knew what nights like this usually led to.

He had lived through similar situations and gained enough experiences to recognize a pattern: this was an invitation with intention.

The coffee table was filled with assortments of the classic movie snacks: microwaveable popcorn and candies. Neither were his preferred picks, so he had also bought himself a 6 pack of beer. And, he was already on his third bottle now.

He had already watched the movie before during its theatrical release, so he wasn’t paying attention to it at all. Instead all of his focus was entirely directed on her.

She sat tucked into the corner of the couch. Her knees angled modestly together.

Leon leaned back beside her, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. His fingers occasionally brushing the fabric near her shoulder.

Despite his seemingly calm composure, Leon was at an unrest in his mind. His close proximity with her didn’t help to calm the voice in his head.

Lately, he had begun having vivid and explicit dreams…about her.

In these dreams, he recalls having her pinned beneath him. Her legs spread as wide they could, while he sank his cock deep into her. In these dreams, he fucked her slow and hard or sometimes fast and hard. In those dreams, she would come undone - eyes glassy and unfocused while her mouth pleads in desperate whimpers, “Leon… Leon, please-”

Like it was all she could remember, as he drove himself into her inviting warmth again and again; not stopping until the only word left on her tongue was his name. Fucking her over and over again until all that’s left of her were the places that were tainted with his existence.

It was unhealthy, he knew that. It was his trauma and how it warped his psyche.

It was how he carried the weight of Raccoon City. The trauma of being forced to witness the collapse of society and the inability to do anything about it.

The trauma that grew with the endless operations the government threw him into. The type of trauma that had ingrained itself into him and twisted something deep inside him.

Once he wakes up, the shame of it all would burn in his chest like acid.

He would wake up hard, and proceed to stroke himself again to the recollections of the dream he just had.

It was a never ending cycle.

He hates himself for it, but there was just something about fisting his cock while imagining the compromising positions he would have her in. To adjust the pace of his wrists, when he imagines how her soft cries would sound filling the room.

The more these dreams came to him, the better he was at envisioning the details. And it was exactly those details that made it difficult for him feel normal about her.

She was pure, untouched by the horrors that he had been forced to endure and accept into his life. In a way, he was envious of her and how she was able to live the type of life that had once been his intended future: to be normal.

He felt sick. It was not right, but oh did it make him feel so good when he touched himself to his perverse thoughts of her. Almost like a routine, it became something he would indulge in on the daily.

What happened? This wasn’t how he envisioned himself to become. He has become a far cry from the aspiring young rookie cop he had once been…for a day. Had he let the darkness overtake him as well?

-

Now back to the present, Leon kept his usual calm and steadied composure.

That was the most dangerous thing about him.

How he was still able to function and to operate while these dark thoughts plagued his mind. How he was able to get this close to her without her intuition sounding an alarm.

Sometimes he looks at her and wonder what exactly was he to her? Did his dark thoughts make him a predator? Or did his realization of exactly how wrong those thoughts were make him into her protector?

Although the objective was to watch the movie, he was watching something-someone else instead. Leon couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

He took another drink from the beer bottle while his eyes remained on her.

His thoughts drift back to the moment he heard her voice over the phone. How he had raised an eyebrow on the other end, when he received her invitation…her quiet invitation. The staying late. The suggestive dim lights. The opportunity for him to be near her. Her unspoken consent disguised as an invitation for a simple movie night at her place.

On screen, Achilles leaned close to Briseis in his firelit tent. His voice was low and raw,

“I’ll tell you a secret. Something they don’t teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. The tension in the room thickened as Leon noticed how she finally picked up on his focus on her.

She turned her head - slowly- until her eyes met his: dark, deep, and blue. The type of intensity that triggered the thalassophobia that she never knew she had.

Breaking the awkward silence, she spoke first. “You’re staring.”

Leon’s lips curved - just slightly - before he could stop it. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He respond. Instead, Leon held her gaze.

He didn’t look away…and neither did her.

At that moment, she could feel the pulse of each heartbeat echoing in her ears. She felt her cheeks heat up and flush.

Leon took notice of it as well.

She looked at him like she also wanted this - like she had also dreamed of this very moment. But there was still something about her; something that screamed inexperience…like a virgin. Untouched. Uncertain. Her heart pounding with equal parts terror and want.

But also at the same time, she looked at him with trust. The her unwavering gaze indicating that she wanted him to lead. She wanted him to take control.

Leon took it as the cue he’d been waiting for.

He moved before he could overthink it.

Slow.

Measured.

Slowly, he reached out, his hand cupping her jaw with a gentleness. Then he came up to her cheek, thumb brushing lightly along her supplely soft skin.

“I want you.” he whispers. Then leaning in, he kissed her.

It started innocent - just the soft press of his lips to hers. It was warm and unhurried.

Her eyes fluttered shut immediately from the shyness. Her anxiety replaced with excitement, as her hands stayed clenched in her lap at first. Her fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her sweater. Her heart hammering hard in her chest. This is really happening. Her mind raced as the flutter of virgin panic made her feel weightless. But never once did she feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

His lips were so warm and the gentle pressure felt… good. Euphoric.

Leon kept his eyes open, studying her reaction and to pickup on any signs of hesitation. He wanted her, but he also wanted her to want him to.

He studied the way her lashes fanned against her flushed cheeks with every brush of his lips against hers. He studied the faint tremble in her frame, signalling that she’s most likely never done this; this thought sent a dark and possessive thrill through him.

The way she followed his lead - submitted to him - only added to the mixing with the ever-present ache from the flashes of those dreams where she had exposed her most intimate treasure for his reaping. How she took each and every one of his thrusts like she needed him to stay alive. How she whimpered while pressed beneath him, each sweet sinful breath as the acknowledgment of how deep he had breached her.

Leon deepened the kiss gradually. Tilting his head and letting his lips part hers with the gentle nudge of his tongue. He felt her gasp - softly - at the wet heat of it; intoxicated from the taste of the beer lingering on his tongue. He swallowed each of her little whimpers, as he coaxes her mouth open just a little more further.

His tongue sliding against hers in slow and exploratory manner. The kiss turned wetter, more intimate. His lips sucking lightly on her lower one as their tongues tangled in the heat of the moment. Saliva slicked in all the anticipated places. The soft and obscene sound as he explored every inch of her.

It was foreign, never once had she felt unsure or unsafe. The way he kissed her was patient. Everything he did and the pacing of it all had chased away any doubt.

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her just as desperately. She conveyed her eagerness in the form of submission. She followed his lead and responded to his administrations accordingly.

She knew she was doing well whenever he rewarded her with a low groan from the depth of his chest. The sound vibrated through her and made her thighs press together as an unfamiliar heat pooled between them the very first time.

Leon’s free hand slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer until their bodies pressed together. She melted. She melted into him. The warmth of his body when his chest pressed against hers…it was addictive.

Leon’s other hand left her jaw and started its own adventure down the trail of her body, until it had found the hem of her sweater. Then, slipping beneath, the heat of his touch came into contact with her bare skin. It was smooth to the touch like silk, and that had only deepened his desire to strip her bare so he could savour the raw friction of their bodies against one another.

He teased her. His rough fingertips tracing slow circles along her ribs. He moves higher, until he cupped the soft weight of her breast over her bra. He squeezed gently at first. Then firmer next time. It repeated until he was gently kneading the plush flesh while his thumb brushed over the peak of her nipple until he could feel it harden in reaction to his teasing.

The sensation made her arch into his touch. The pleasure was undeniable, sharp sparks ignited every nerve in her body. Her core ached in a way she had never experienced. She pressed deeper into him, indicating that she wanted to be with him. She wanted him to lead her into what could be a future for the both of them.

“Shhh…easy.” he whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss just enough to let her breathe. His voice husky with restraint, “I’ve got you.”

His lips returned to hers again, now kissing her in a deeper and more demanding manner. Tongues sliding hot and slick. Lips pressing harder. Teeth grazing the bottom of her lip. He did everything in a way that made her press her thighs together instinctively in suppression of the desire she felt course through her body.

She was now entirely addicted to the sensation of his lips against hers - the feeling of his tongue guiding hers.

Now, she was the one who pressed into him - unwilling to part her lips from his.

Taking this opportunity, he freed up his hands to continue his exploration of her body. His touches were deliberate, but it never lacked the gentleness of care as he eases her into it.

One palm sliding underneath her sweater and up her back to trace her spine. The other dipping lower to grip her hip, pulling her over until she sat half in his lap.

It was intentional. He wanted her to feel the thick and hard line of his cock through his jeans. He wanted to press his need her thighs, a preview of what he intends to do to her: his instrument of ruin…hot and throbbing in its eager anticipation to claim her.

However, he didn’t rush things. He caressed her with gentle strokes. If his assumptions were true, then he needed to prep her for the events that’s going to happen next. Every touch was new to her; he understands how it could be overwhelming, so he was patient with her. He didn’t want to scare her…not until he was able to have his first taste of her.

After making sure she was comfortable and ready for the next step, his fingers tugged her bra cup down and reached to pinch her bare nipple.

She gasped at the sudden sensation, but he kissed her deeper - reassuring her that it was going to be okay.

He proceeds to roll the sensitive bud between his finger tips, causing her to respond by whimpering and grinding shyly but with unmistakable intention against his thigh. The drag of the denim to denim sending sparks of friction causing the further arousal of his member.

The gentle pinch turned into slow - still gentle - deliberate tugs. The new sensation added to the throbbing of her core. It soaked her panties with the slick arousal that she had never experienced before. He feels it too. The wet heat of the dampness that was seeping through fabric of her jeans and warming his leg.

Everything was overwhelming, all the firsts he had made her feel…emotionally and now physically. However, her trust in him remains firm. She followed his lead completely; hips shifting tentatively towards his guidance, allowing herself the soft sounds as affirmation, she let him guide her through every new sensation without hesitation or the fear of the unknown.

She was desperate to be good for him, desperate to stay in this moment with him. She was desperate let him claim her so she could finally confidently say that she was his.

His hand drifted lower, until his fingers found the button on the waistband of her skinny jeans. He popped it open with practiced ease, the zipper whispering down like a secret.

She was unaware until she felt it - the presence of him in her most intimate area. She tensed for a split second - the usual anxious nerves flaring hot in her chest, but it didn’t change anything.

It didn’t matter. Screw the expectations of her from upbringing. Screw the concept of purity as a virtue and chastity before marriage. Nothing mattered anyone in this moment. She wanted this. She wanted him.

His palm slipped beneath the denim and the thin, soaked fabric of her panties.

Now cupping her bare pussy, he gives her a little squeeze and relishes in her reaction to the heat of his hand against her lubricated folds. She was soaked; he explored her once untouched region - slick and puffy - her clit swollen and pulsing against his fingers like a second heartbeat. The sweet scent of her arousal dangerously teased his sense of self control.

“…so wet,” he breathed, “It’s all for me.” His words rough and reverent against her lips, as his fingers glided through her slippery folds. “Just like that…you are perfect.”

His fingers were gentle at first, parting the slick lips of her nether region to circle her swollen clit with slow and calculated strokes: light pressure at first, then firmer, until the pad of his thumb rubbed tight little circles which made her hips jerk paired with a broken moan escaping from her mouth.

He made her feel raw.

He made her feel needy.

The wet and obscene sounds of his fingers sliding through her arousal filled the space of the small living room. The mixing with her gasps, the distant movie dialogue, and the couch fabric creaking faintly beneath the shifting of their combined weights.

It felt undeniably good, however the intensity was almost too much: anxiety spiking through her body reacted with an unfamiliar urgency. Everything originated from the space between her legs; the intimacy between her thighs. It felt so good, as the waves of pleasure radiating from her clit that made her toes curl and her thighs tremble.

She whimpers in a whining manner as her hips twitches shyly into his hand. Grinding against him to silently urge him on. She knew she was falling apart, unable to think except the primal instinct to chase after the neediness between her thighs. She had never thought this feeling existed, but she trusted him to lead her through it even if nothing good will come of it in the end.

It wasn’t just the feeling or the ache, it was him. She wanted to feel everything with him, because the indescribable desire inside her was building into something she couldn’t name but desperately craved.

The sensation was foreign: an intense and overwhelming pleasure she had never known. It was a sensation that took control and dictated her every move and thought.

Her thighs parted wider on instinct as she melted further into him. She feels Leon smiled against her lips. He kisses her deeper again as he slid one finger lower into her, teasing her entrance before easing it inside her inch by inch. She gasped sharply at the stretch, her pussy instinctively clenching down hard around the intrusion. Her velvet walls fluttering and gripping around him as it remembers the shape of him. The fullness he made her feel was unfamiliar, but the sweet burn made her breath hitch and toes curl into the couch as her legs pressed and slid over the fabric of the couch.

He began to curl his finger until it had found the just-right sensitive and spongy spot inside of her.

“That’s it… breathe for me.” he murmured between his kisses. Moving the hand that was once on her breast, he now cradled the back of her head to keep her close.

“You’re doing so good.” He coos, “Squeezing me like that? You want this right? You don’t ever want me to leave, right?” His finger presses down the sweet spot inside of her with more pressure, “Feel that? I can make you feel even better than that.” His fingers tangled in her hair to hold her closer to him.

It doesn’t matter what he said anymore. She had already forfeited herself to him. She continues to rock her hips into his hand, what was once small uncertain movements had now become an affirmative response. Her soft whimpers and moans are her worship for him.

Leon rewards her by adding a second finger. Now, the stretch burned even sweeter as both of his fingers thrusted deeper and faster into her. The scissoring motion gently eased her into accepting more of him, while his thumb still pressed firm and rubbed relentless circles on her nub. The wet and squelching sounds echoed louder with every pump - the slick coating his fingers as it leaks out between each thrust and drips down to soak the rest of her panties. The obscene symphony from the mingling of their tongues and heavy breathing.

Leon kissed her through it all. His tongue just as greedy as his fingers as he claimed both her mouth and her pussy. He was delighted with swallowing every moan and every desperate little sob she made. The taste of their shared saliva and desperation thick on his tongues.

Her body trembled as her core began to tighten at the anticipation of a climatic release. If was coiled; hot and tight sensations building higher with every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot. Every stroke tool her away from reality as her eyes rolls back and her vision darkens. Her pussy gush around him in hot and slippery pulses.

Oh, she was close…so close.

She was teetering right there on the edge as her walls flutters wildly around his fingers. Her breath coming in ragged as she sobs against his mouth. Her hips grinding desperately against him as she feels the nearing of a sense of enlightenment…it hovered just out of reach, sparking every nerve in her body in anticipation to receive the blessing of a pleasure she had never imagined-

Then it stopped.

Leon froze.

His fingers stilled inside her, despite her body still shamelessly trying to achieve that high. However, no matter how she whimpered in protest…hips still desperately chasing the friction, pussy clenching needily around his knuckles in rhythmic spasms…he pulled back. Slowly, almost as if reluctantly, he removed his hand away from her still shaking heat.

It was close. Too close. He almost lost control of himself.

He knew the shape of temptation. Knew how easy it was to mistake heat for permission and want for entitlement. He also knew how often people’s bodies betrays their own morals.

He could have kept going. He knew it. She knew it too, probably. There had been enough tension between them for weeks that this moment had started and been building long before this night.

However, he couldn’t go through with it.

Pleasuring himself to the thoughts of compromising her was one thing…as sick and twisted as it may be. However, to actually act upon his instincts and to cross the line between the their friendship wasn’t something he could ever forgive himself for.

He couldn’t do it.

He shouldn’t do it.

She was the best things to befall in his life after everything has turned into a never ending living nightmare after September 30th, 1998. This was the girl who showed kindness and gave warmth to a stranger in desperate need of it, she had given him a glimpse of spring during a snowstorm in February.

She lived in the light, while he belonged to the shadows. She was hope, but he was destruction. They could never be.

He wanted her. Carnally for sure, but he knows there’s also something else psychologically that made her so addictive to him. But, he knows that the only way he could have her was if he broke her.

He couldn’t do that.

She doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve her.

His forehead pressed against hers, breath still ragged and hot. His eyes dark with conflict.

His jaw tightened. He looked away, “I - I should go.” he said.

She blinked. “Go?”

“I… I have to go.” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Work.” Leon swallowed hard and forced himself to put distance between them before he changed his mind.

“Leon?”

He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t acknowledge her.

He paused at the edge of the couch, hand reaching for his jacket.

“Leon.”

The sound of his name in her voice nearly made him turn back. But it wasn’t enough.

She tries to call out to him again, but he cuts her off.

“I’ll call you.” He said in a rough and low voice that sounded dismissive in tone.

The movie still played in the background, but it had long been forgotten. Keeping his back to her, he walked towards the front door. Leon was out the door before she could even form words, the lock clicking shut behind him.

She sat there in the dim glow, her jeans still unbuttoned and body still throbbing and aching from what he had done to her before this sudden shift.

Tears formed and gathered at the corners of her eyes as she sat confused and defeated. Confused at the how her womanhood still echoed the remnants of his presence. Defeated at the almost-climax leaving her still trembling and aching.

The tears starts to fall as the ending credits of the movie started to roll.

What had she done wrong?

Why did he leave?

She wanted it, she wanted him.

She showed how much she wanted him.

There was no doubt in that. And, he also reciprocated her feelings or else why would he make her feel so good? However none of it matters anymore, because he is done. He didn’t even offer an explanation or looked at her. He just brushed her off and left her.

Had she not given enough? She would’ve let him stake his claim in her. She would’ve accepted anything he wanted to do to her - with her. What else was there left to give?

He said he’s call her, but she knew that was a lie. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that she believes him even if she already knows it was a lie.

-

Leon didn’t look back as he descended the stairs.

His heart hammering harder than any of the instances on his missions when he had genuinely thought he was going to die.

He’d felt it the moment he kissed her, but it was confirmed the second his fingers had sunk into her. Tight. Untouched. The restlessness paired with an anxious hesitation. The way her cunt clenched around him with pure inexperience. How she would come apart under his touch no matter what he did or how well he did it.

She was a virgin.

And Leon, for all his flaws, was unprepared and unable to take something precious from her and call it desire just because he wanted it.

He wanted her regardless, but knowing that he would’ve been her first had triggered something worse than the darkness already within him. If anything, he wanted her even more. However, he knew in his heart that his want didn’t equate to entitlement.

He wanted her, but he didn’t deserve her.

For the first time, instead of listening to his instincts, he listened to rationale. He made the right call.

Staying would have been worse. He thought.

Because if he stayed, he wasn’t sure he’d stop at the point he should.

And if he didn’t stop, then he’d have to live with the fact that he’d taken advantage of something pure in her…and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself until he ruined her completely.

Because…the true horror of it all was that he had begun to realize he wanted her not just for a night, he wanted her all to himself in the most selfish and disastrous way possible.

The realization had hit him, twisting in his gut. Those dreams flooded back.

The ones where he had her pinned beneath him. The ones where he had his cock buried to the hilt inside of her. The ones where he was fucking her with dominant thrusts, pounding himself into her until she was left spent, raw, and shattered. The ones where he broke her into whimpering only his name like it’s a prayer that will save her from him.

He was sick, but sick in a way that was beyond saving and terminal.

The more he jerked off to those fantasies in the dark of his apartment, the filthier and more frequent the dreams had became. He was violating the real her, when his hand gripped and flew along his cock while he imagined her face contorted in ecstasy.

Shame burned through him, it was hot and suffocating. He felt like a pervert, a creep for letting the trauma of Raccoon City and everything else that followed warp his desires into this need to dominate. to take. to make her submit completely.

It wasn’t healthy.

The loss of control in the face of unimaginable horror, this was his own struggle to carry and be buried with.

He was projecting his broken need for control - the control over something in his life - onto her.

The guilt clawed at him.

She deserved better. A demented and broken man like him had no place in her world.

What was he thinking? Friends?

From the moment she showed him kindness, that’s when those dreams started. What type of a friend have dreams like those? What type of a friend masturbates to their friend and only their friend…because nothing gets them off anymore?

This was not friendship. He was a predator. No different than the ones that stalked him in the dark ruins of Raccoon City.

Leon shut his eyes for a second, breathing through the ache in his pants that has now migrated to his chest.

He stepped into the cold night, the weight of what he’d almost done pressing heavier than any death he had caused with his hands.

.

.

.

This could never be.

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve asked with a furrowed brow. He started to wonder if it really was his shirt, maybe he should’ve worn something more proper. Something less comfortable. Oh god, here he was wearing just a plain old sweater when maybe he should’ve been wearing a suit and tie.

“Um... Well...” (Y/N) thought for a moment, as if unsure how to tell him. “My family doesn’t really do Thanksgiving. I mean, that whole big turkey dinner that you’re thinking of? Yeah we don’t really do that.”

Steve blinked, thinking about all the traditions that he had associated with Thanksgiving. The turkey, the cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, sometimes even some pie if they were able to make it on time.“Oh. That’s alright, it’s not like it’s a huge thing.” 

“Well it’s just... you know, it’s not exactly a great holiday to celebrate in the first place with all that history that goes into it. Plus, my family doesn’t really ‘get’ white holidays.” (Y/N) tried to explain in a nice way that wouldn’t make Steve more uncomfortable, but he was still regretting the bottle of wine.

“So... I shouldn’t have brought this?” Steve asked, looking down at the bottle.

“Well my parents don’t really drink...” (Y/N) admitted, giving him an empathetic smile. “But it’s a super sweet gesture, Steve, don’t worry! They’ll appreciate that you got them anything at all!”

Steve groaned internally, wishing to god she had told him all this before. To be fair, the invitation had been a last minute thing. 

Even though the two of them had been dating for a couple of years now, Steve had never met (Y/N)’s parents. He had always been away or busy whenever her parents came to town or when she planned to visit them. It wasn’t a huge deal with (Y/N), she knew that she loved Steve and she insisted that regardless of what happened, she would still love him.

But Steve’s old fashioned heart was still nervous. He wanted nothing more in the world than for her parents to be happy that they were seeing each other. If they didn’t like him, he was terrified of it becoming a wedge in their relationship. The anxieties didn’t stop in his head either, the boys made sure of that. Tony used to joke that their old conservative ways wouldn’t approve of (Y/N) dating a man who was technically supposed to be a grandfather at his age. Bucky had laugh at the fact that Steve had never really met a girl’s father before, which made Steve feel like a teenager again. Sam was sweet about it, insisting that if Steve could get through all the shit he had in the past, this would be a piece of cake.

(Y/N) assured Steve over and over again that they’d love him. She insisted that all she had told them were positive things, so they have to love him. With all of the things (Y/N) must’ve told him, her parents must’ve gotten impatient waiting to meet him. So they called her a few days ago asking if she was going to bring Steve around. (Y/N) had seemed so sheepish in asking him and Steve wondered if she thought that he hadn’t wanted to. He agreed eagerly, hoping to set her mind at ease and she had tried to relax his mind by telling him that they would for sure love him. As long as he didn’t screw up, Steve reminded himself.

The (Y/L/N) family lived in a smaller part of a nearby city, (Y/N) claiming that they didn’t really fit into the big city life. Steve admired the gorgeous trees surrounding the family home and smiled to himself as he daydreamed about one day living with (Y/N) and their own family in a house just like this.

“(Y/N)!!!!” came a happy shout as the two came out of the car. 

(Y/N)’s smile was large as she was quickly embraced in her mother’s hug, squeezing her tight, “Hi ma,” she laughed. “All ready for dinner?”

“Of course. It’s still hot which is good.” Mrs. (Y/L/N)’s eyes soon turned onto Steve. She was 3/4′s of his height and yet, Steve felt like she could end him with one glare. But there was no glimmer of a hostile look on her face as she eyed him up and down. “Mr. Captain America, it’s so nice to have you for dinner!”

“Maaaaa,” (Y/N) groaned, laughing as Steve’s face turned pink immediately. “That’s not his name.”

“Well he hasn’t had the chance to introduce himself!” Her mother snapped back with her hands on her hips. She turned back to Steve with a sweet grin on her face, smiling up at him.

Steve cleared his throat quickly and shot his hand out, “Steven Grant Rogers, ma’am.” Steve wanted to hit himself or hide in a corner. He saw the immediately giggle on (Y/N)’s lips as he introduced himself with his full name, completely out of nerves/

“That’s a good strong name,” Mrs. (Y/L/N) commented with a smile, looking over at (Y/N). “Grant is a good name for a baby.”

“Ma!” (Y/N) whined again, this time, both her and Steve’s face were turning red. Sure, they had talked about what they would do with their own kids in the future, but Steve realized in that moment, the two of them hadn’t ever considered talking about having kids together.

“What!? You’re all grown up and I still don’t have any grandchildren!” Steve watched as Mrs. (Y/L/N) playfully swatted at her daughter’s arm, both of them yelling at each other.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the encounter, the sweet playfulness between them. “Alright alright, come on in. I’m sure you’re both very hungry. Do you get very hungry fighting aliens every day?” Mrs. (Y/L/N) went on, pushing the two of them inside while she seemed to look over Steve’s body. Before he even had a chance to answer she tutted at him, “You’re too skinny, need to eat more. Then you’ll have more energy to fight.” She grinned up at him and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thank you, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I do work up an appetite after some missions,” Steve admitted. He was glad to have walked in after (Y/N) as he watched her take off her shoes, Mrs. (Y/L/N) doing the same and sliding some house slippers on. He blinked for a moment and glanced at his own shoes before slowly following their lead. 

“Sorry, I should’ve told you to wear warmer socks just in case,” (Y/N) whispered to him, noting his little hesitation. “No shoes indoors,” she giggled.

Steve nodded, making a note to remember this for any later visit. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, and quickly put his shoes off to the side where they’d be the least intrusive.

“Well after all your missions you can come visit me and I’ll make you something to eat,” Mrs. (Y/L/N) was saying as she walked further indoors. Steve almost felt a little two big, standing near (Y/N)’s mom. She was so precious and Steve could see characteristics his own mother had before she passed.

“Hi Dad!” (Y/N) grinned, quickly running to her father’s arms as they got inside. 

“Here for dinner tonight?” The man asked with a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she nodded.

Her eyes moved back to Steve, who seemed a bit unsure of where to stand or what to say, “This is Steve, dad. The guy I’ve been dating.”

Mr. (Y/L/N)’s eyes watched as Steve gave a little wave, still holding that bottle of wine that he should’ve just left in the car. “You’re one of those Avengers, aren’t you?”

Steve nodded firmly with a polite smile, “Yes, Sir.”

Mr. (Y/L/N) grunted quietly as an affirmation, nodding slowly, “So you can protect my daughter in the big city?”

“With my own life, sir,” Steve answered quickly. The sincerity in his voice made (Y/N) blush a little, turning to the kitchen to help her mother. 

“Good,” was all that Mr. (Y/L/N) name responded with.

“Alright alright, come let’s eat! It’s Thanksgiving!” Mrs. (Y/L/N) grinned, setting things down on the table. 

Steve blinked as he looked at all the dishes that were there. It was definitely not the Thanksgiving dinner he was used to.

“Mom, what did you do?” (Y/N) laughed as the four of them sat at the table.

“Well you said you were bringing Steven over and you said it was for Thanksgiving dinner-”

“Yeah but mom, we never have Thanksgiving dinner-” (Y/N) interrupted.

“But (Y/N)! White people love Thanksgiving!” Mrs. (Y/L/N) insisted with a look to Steve, as if asking him to confirm it. (Y/N) groaned a little at her mom’s blunt comment, looking like she wanted to sink into the floor.

“This isn’t turkey, ma,” (Y/N) tried to explain.

“Obviously I know that, dear. I did try to make you a turkey, Steven, but I didn’t want to make it too dry so I ordered us Peking duck instead! 北京烤鸭! (Běijīng kǎoyā!)” (Y/N)’s mom started to place pieces of food onto Steve’s plate, smiling at him widely. “Has (Y/N) taken you to get duck before, Steven?”

“Mom-” (Y/N) started, shooting Steve an apologetic glance.

“She hasn’t, but it smells delicious, thank you!” Steve insisted, reaching under the table to give (Y/N)’s hand a squeeze, letting her know he was okay. “She told me after I bought it, but I also brought you and Mr. (Y/L/N) a bottle of wine.” Steve nodded towards the bottle he had left on the kitchen island, intently watching the expressions on (Y/N)’s parents’ faces as they looked over.

“Oh thank you, Steven!” Mrs. (Y/L/N) grinned and Mr. (Y/L/N) also gave a short nod of approval. “Now come, eat up. You need all your strength I’m sure. (Y/N), have you been feeding him? Look at him, he’s almost skin and bones.”

(Y/N) laughed as she watched her mom pile up multiple pieces of duck onto Steve’s plate, even though he insisted he didn’t need to eat that much. She helped smooth over the sauce into one of Steve’s wraps, putting some meat into the center and folding it for him.

(not my gif, credits to the original creator. Ugh this makes me so hungry)

Steve watched as she did it, wanting to be able to do it himself the next time. “Do you eat this often?” He asked her curiously as she handed him a wrap and began to make one for herself. 

“Often enough. Mostly for celebrations in my family,” (Y/N) explained and held up her wrap to his. “Ready?”

Steve nodded and helped himself to a big bite. Like how he had watched her parents look at the wine bottle, Steve noticed the same eager intent in (Y/N)’s parents’ faces as they waited for his reaction.

“Do you like it?” (Y/N) asked with a grin. She already knew the answer, seeing the same glint in his eyes that he had had when she introduced Cinnabons to him. He nodded eagerly, looking up at her with those puppy dog eyes, silently begging her to eat this at home more often.

Mrs. (Y/L/N) clapped happily as she began to introduce more dishes to Steve’s plate, explaining that he didn’t have to like all of them, and to eat as much as he liked.

(Y/N) had to hide her laughter by stuffing her face with food, knowing that Steve was too polite to leave his plate filled with food. He always wanted to clear his plate, making sure no food went to waste. But (Y/N)’s mom liked him so much, she kept adding more and more.

“Come visit again soon okay?” Her mom whispered as she hugged (Y/N) goodbye. “I like him. He’s very polite. Your father likes him too, for a white boy,” she added with a tease.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully as she gave her mom a squeeze. She knew that her family had often assumed she would’ve been dating other East Asian boys, but Steve was the only boy she had ever brought home.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Steve smiled politely and (Y/N)’s mom touched his arm gently.

“Now you come whenever you want alright? You can tell me about all the risky things my daughter is getting up to that she doesn’t want me knowing about,” she teased, making (Y/N) groan. “I put some cut fruit into your backseat, (Y/N). Make sure that Steven eats some, he’s still growing!”

(Y/N) waved her mom’s sentence off and got into the car. The couple waved at (Y/N)’s mom (and her dad through the window) as they pulled out of the driveway, just as the sun was setting.

Steve let out a groan, holding his stomach as he slumped into his seat, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my life,” he whined but shot a grin in his girlfriend’s direction.

(Y/N) giggled and nudged him, “I told you she’d like you. That’s why she’s trying to fatten you up.”

Steve gave a playful pout, poking at his stomach, “I didn’t think I was that skinny. I used to be far skinnier.”

“You’re not, my mom just thinks everyone could use more food,” (Y/N) responded, the permanent smile on her face aching at her cheeks. “Thanks for coming with me today, Steve.”

“Of course! You better not bring Bucky or Sam along, you know,” Steve pointed out, closing his eyes as his food nap settled in.

“What do you mean?”

“If they get their hands on that food, they might never leave,” Steve chuckled, peeking out of one eye to just watch his girl laugh. He let out a quiet sigh of contentment as they drove back home. He hadn’t expected to fall in love so quickly with (Y/N)’s parents, but then again, maybe it was meant to be. After all, he hadn’t expected to fall in love with (Y/N) quite so fast either.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

谢谢你 (Xièxiè nǐ) @wxstedhexrt​ for reading this for me and giving me the confidence to post it !!!!!

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