#steve roges

You cannot hide from your father or Steve for the rest of your life. One way or another, you must face them.

“You should eat something, doll,” Bucky points at the plate he placed in front of you. “Are the clothes okay? I don’t have lady’s stuff around.”

“The shirt and sweatpants are much better than the wedding dress,” you sniff. “Did you know that I never wanted to wear that dress? His mother forced me to follow tradition and wear the nightmare she dared to call a wedding dress.”

“Still, you looked beautiful in it,” Bucky swoons hard when you steal a fry from the plate. “You’d rock a potato sack.”

“You only try to be nice.” You slowly chew the fry. “What do I do now? Steve knows that I heard every word. I cannot go back and pretend he doesn't want to get rid of me. Steve hates me. The man I loved for so long hates me, and my heart cannot take it.”

“We will think about a solution tomorrow. You need to eat and get some sleep.” He sternly says. I know today was a lot to stomach, but there will be better times, too. Don’t give up on your dreams and hopes.”

“All my dreams involved Steve, but since he said all those hurtful things, it feels like I fell out of love within the blink of an eye.” You sniffle and look at Bucky. “What if I never loved him? What if I only believed he was the right guy? What if I missed out on falling for the right person because I hung my heart on Steve?”

Bucky looks surprised, but there’s something else in his eyes. Hope, maybe?

“I don’t know the answer to any of your questions, but I have food.” He gives you a soft smile. “Come on, doll. Dig in and have some of the best fries in Brooklyn.”

He dips his head, staring at you because you still don’t eat.

“Where did you get fries at two am? You were gone for, like, ten minutes?” You grab a few fries and stuff them into your mouth. “Fuck, they are good. I haven’t eaten good stuff in weeks to look radiant and pretty for that asshat.”

Bucky chuckles. Even though you’re talking about his friend. “Steve is a fool, doll. He was always like that. The golden boy getting all the nice things and never valuing their worth.”

“He got things the easy way. Steve never had to work for anything. Women, money, his good looks,” you curse your husband. “One day, he should face the consequences of his doings.”

“If you ask me, he felt it tonight,” Bucky laughs, remembering the panic in Steve’s voice. The last thing your husband needs is for your father to find out that someone hurt you. He must protect you. “Eat up and get some sleep. Tomorrow everything will look better.”

“No, it won’t,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes, “but thank you for saying it. I know you mean well. We both know this world and how it works too well. I’m stuck, and there’s no way out. Steve and my father won’t leave me alone. Escaping my duty was never an option.”

“Well then, we will find a way out. Together,” Bucky sternly states. He looks your way, giving you a cracked smile. “I sacrificed more than enough for Steve. I was always loyal. But loyalty has limits, doll. If he wants me to bring you back to him, I’ll refuse.”

You nod, but don’t believe a single word. Two men you trusted with your life have already betrayed you in the worst way possible. There’s no trust left in you. Not even for Bucky.

Bucky watches you sleep on his bed. He doesn’t want to be a creep, but Alpine was making a fuss. She wanted him to let her into the bedroom to join you on the bed.

He shakes his head, watching Alpine curl in your side. “You really like her, huh?” Bucky sighs deeply. “I know how you feel.” He whispers. “I don’t know how to make it real, Alpine…”

You flutter your eyes open, feeling a weight next to you. Two strong arms are wrapped tightly around your body, holding you safely.

Bucky is unaware that you woke. He only wanted to make you feel safe after you cried in your sleep. It wasn’t his plan to fall asleep, his arms still wrapped around your body.

“Bucky,” his name is only a whisper on your lips. You sigh and close your eyes, enjoying the last peaceful moments before you must face Steve and your father.

And now you were getting shot at as you ran away from them. Unprepared for it all. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you move your feet under you. If you could do it, you could exit if you dashed around this building. You had been around this block before, so there would be an alleyway where you could take a fire escape stairs up. You placed your gun in your pants waist before you took off. Keeping your head low and hand over your wound as you ran, you didn't stop for anything. It was your life on the line, and you're sure hell aren't risking it. The bullets flew past you, and you managed to avoid them as you turned the corner. Yelling reached your ears, and you raced up the fire escape. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, and the blood kept seeping out. You did lose your footing here and there due to the blood loss, but you kept pushing forward. That was until you were on the roof and safe.

Or so you thought. 

You were body-slammed into the ground. A groan left your lips as the wind was knocked out of you. You tried to blink the black and gray dots that invaded your vision as you gasped for air. Your lungs begged for it as the weight on your chest prevented you from taking enough air in. You felt the pain from the gunshot wound plus the pain from being knocked down onto your back. When your vision cleared, you looked at the assailants on top of you. The man's hands wrapped around your neck, and your hands automatically grabbed his wrist. You looked him in the eye as you tried to fight him off. His long black hair fell into his face, but you could see his icy blue eyes. Void of any emotions, he stared at you blankly. His fingers tightened around your neck, and you felt it— the cool sensation as you took in his metal arm.

This was it. 

This was how you were going to die. Your grip loosened around his wrist as you felt all the will to fight back slip away. Your gasping became shorter as you tried to take your last breaths, hands falling to the side where his legs around you were. The sky was clear as you looked past your attacker. The sun shone up high, yet the heat wasn't bad. Your vision soon began to lose focus.

This was it.

Before everything went black and you slipped away, those icy blue eyes of your assailant were the last thing you saw. One last breath and everything went black. 

It was over.

No more looking over your shoulder.

No more living in fear.

You were free.

Safe in the darkness of death.

★★★★★

A creaking noise caused you to open your eyes, confused. You had thought you died, but here you were, lying in some run-down-looking room. A small light lit the entire room as you slowly pushed yourself up. Pain shot through your left side as you placed a hand over it. Your eyes were on the person sitting in front of the bed, very close to the wall. You took him in and knew it was your assailant. The mask he wore covered half his face, and his icy blue eyes watched. It was as if they were taking in your every movement. The light reflected on the mental arm he had on his left side as arms rested in his lap. "Who are you?" Your voice cracked, and you felt the tenderness in your throat. You didn't even realize how raw it felt until you swallowed. He didn't respond as he got up and left, leaving you alone. You looked at your side and lifted your blood-stained shirt as you took in the wraps around your torso. It was safe to say this man was the one who stitched you up. The dull, aching pain from your side itched a bit. Then you felt it. Eyes watching you as you snapped your head up and locked your gaze on him. He took four strides and stood close to the foot of the bed. He had a cup of water in his hands as he held it out for you. You started it, weighing your options. A defeated sigh left your lips as you took it. You didn't need to question his intentions at this point; after all, you wouldn't be able to escape him. This man overpowered you in many ways that you knew you didn't stand a chance. You brought the cup to your lips and drank the water, hoping that if he poisoned you, it would kill you quickly.

As the cool liquid coated your throat, you couldn't help but let out a stifled moan. It felt amazing and soothed the rawness. You drank it all and placed the cup in your lap once you were done. "Thank you." Your voice sounded better than before. The man didn't acknowledge you, only taking the cup and leaving you alone. You watched him until he was out of view before your eyes drifted around the room. It was abandoned; you could tell by how quiet it had been and how the walls lacked their vibrancy. The bed squeezed at any slight movement, and the wooden floors let out a small groan. You still hadn't understood why you were alone. Playing with your hands, you closed your eyes. "Might as well count my blessings." You had felt tired, and you know it was from earlier events. After a few minutes, you lay back down and get as comfortable as possible. 

It didn't look like you would be leaving anytime soon, so you figured you'd try to enjoy whatever time you had left. A small sigh left your lips. You hadn't ever imagined being placed in this situation.

Scratch that.

You had, but with trying to run away from your past, you thought you'd never had to. 

"Huir de tus problemas es una carrera que nunca ganarás. (Running away from your problems is a race you'll never win)"

The voice echoed in your ears. 

"Por mucho que lo intentes no podrás huir de ti mismo. (No matter how hard you try, you can't run away from yourself)" 

You closed your eyes again, pushing the voices back and falling asleep. You didn't want to overthink or recall your past. You just wanted to live a normal life.

★★★★★

A couple of weeks have passed. You hadn't bothered looking for a way out, even when your mystery assailant left you alone for hours. You are sitting on the old, worn-out couch with a book and a blanket over your lap. As you flipped to the next page of Fahrenheit 451, you didn't bother glancing up when you heard the door open. By the soft steps, you knew who it was. "Welcome back." You paused at the end of the paragraph, looking at the man who stared at you. He had a neutral look as he placed some bags down. You took in that he had stopped covering his face with his mask, allowing you to see more of his face. You didn't let yourself be bothered by his unresponsive attitude, as he barely even spoke to you. Sometimes, he would speak in languages you didn't understand. Other times, he would say a few words in English or Spanish. But most of the time, he just watched you, and it felt like most of the time he was studying you. Trying to understand you.

You never really knew why, but you slowly noticed that he seemed less guarded around you. The icy blue eyes seemed less cold and more curious and interested. You didn't feel like you had to be careful around him, as if you were walking on broken glass. He walked over to you, and you noticed the first aid kit in his hands as you marked your spot in the book before placing it down. He sat next to you, and you pulled your shirt up, exposing the wound that had been healing reasonably well. He went to work, cleaning and rewrapping it as you watched him. His fingers worked gently as he focused on the task. The strands of his hair got in his face, and you couldn't help it as you moved it behind his ear. He froze at the contact, and you quickly pulled back, mumbling sorry in Spanish. He glanced up at you, and you held his gaze. You felt the way your heart picked up its pace and the way your breath got caught in your throat. You had to admit to yourself that he was attractive. Something about those blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark brown hair, which drew you in. The more you kept looking at him, the more you felt a pull. You cleared your throat and looked away, mind racing with thoughts as you felt him finish up what he was doing. You bit your cheek as you waited until he was done. When he began to put the things away, you quickly got up— pulling the blanket with you as you rushed to the room and closed the door behind you. 

You rested your back on the door as you slid down it. Your head falls forward as you let out a deep breath. One that you hadn't realized you were holding. You gave yourself time to calm down before you pushed yourself up and crawled into bed. You pulled the blanket over you as you closed your eyes and tried to lull yourself to sleep. You didn't want to think about it. You were scared to come to terms with the attraction you were feeling for the man because that meant if you were feeling something for him, it would hurt you. 

"Los sentimientos te debilitan. Ellos te maten. (Feelings make you weak They get you killed)"

Your father's voice rang in your head. His training burned into your mind as he forced you to learn that those emotions got your brother killed. It is what made your mother die. Her love for you killed her, as she didn't survive childbirth. 

"En el momento en que te permitas amar y cuidar es el momento en que morirás. (The moment you allow yourself to love and care is the moment you will die)"

★★★★★

Two and half months passed, and you were amazed he was still keeping you alive. There would be days when he would return, and something felt off about him. It was as if he felt colder and less friendly, but he never once harmed you. "What's your name?" You finally dared to ask. The curiosity to learn more about him has finally gotten the better side of you. 

"Name?" He tilted his head to the side a bit. You placed the book down and looked at him, shifting your body so you could face him. He had been sitting on the other end of the couch, his hand playing with the knife as he had watched you. "Winter Soldier." The man had heard others call him that, so he assumed that was what you meant; however, he was confused when you shook your head. "Prisoner 56898." He tried again.

"Oh, corazón, (sweetheart)" You felt a wave of sadness wash over you. "Those aren't names." You said softly, understanding why it seemed like this man watched you with interest half this time. He had been treated as a prisoner to the point that he didn't know his name. He just gave you a confused look but nodded. You smiled at him, trying to push away the sadness as you grabbed his hand. "How about this," You gently rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand. "I'll refer to you as corazón, if you're fine with that." He looked down at your hands over his before looking back up at you and gave you a slight nod. "Perfecto. (perfect)" You said softly as you moved your hand back. The moment he felt the loss of contact with you, he was quick to grab a hold of your hand in his. The action caught you off guard, along with the strength he put behind it, as you fell into him a bit. The knife fell to the ground with a small thud. You used your free hand to catch yourself as it was over his chest, and your face was inches from his. Your breath hitched as you looked at him to see him staring at you. His eyes scanned your face, and you could see the internal conflict in those beautiful icy blue eyes. The conflict that felt like the same one you were having before all the signals telling you to move seemed to fade, and you moved in slowly. He didn't move, not even when your lips touched his delicately. You didn't want to force anything upon him, so you pulled back a bit, trying to see his reaction. His icy blue eyes burned into you, and you felt his hand move to your neck as he pulled you back into his. When he felt his lips connect with yours, your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you. There was so much need in the kiss. You pulled yourself closer to him, moving your hands up his chest. You could feel his metal hand hovered over your back, almost scared to touch you with it. You pulled back from the kiss and placed your forehead on his. "It's okay." You whispered, letting him know that you trust him. That you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. "Estará bien. (it's gonna okay)" You could see the slight fear in his eyes before he gently placed his hand on your waist. You didn't move, wanting him to see it was okay. 

Steve doesn’t know why, but there is a certain someone that hasn’t left his

head in quite some time. It certainly doesn’t help that he had just received the art drafts for the advertisement project. He hadn’t looked at art for such a long time, but something about it just pulled him into it. It made him nostalgic and sad at the same time -- exactly what they had asked of her when it came to the book they were going to publish.

It reminds him of the art piece that he had seen her drawing a couple of weeks back. It was enough to grab attention as well, but she pushed back and he had to go back to his (failure) of a date. Steve couldn’t help but think that she was either angry or drinking, sometimes a combination of both, when he saw her outside of that one meeting they had back in the beginning of last month.

Tortured and suffering artist? Angst filled background?

“Don’t get pulled into that kind of trouble, Stevie,” he can already hear Bucky’s voice in the back of his head. However, Bucky shouldn’t be the one giving handing out that type of advice.

Steve sighs, thinking that this might get worse before it gets better.

———–

It doesn’t help that Rumlow tears up your latest design before the weekend. It doesn’t help that you have to stay in later than usual to have a new concept complete before Monday morning.

It doesn’t help that you end up a bit too much on the way back home to forget all the annoyance of the day. It doesn’t help that you can’t walk in heels while mildly inebriated.

“Woah, there,” an oddly familiar voice lets out, as you turn upward to meet blue eyes, “Are you alright there?”

You frown, but before you can say anything you feel the vague sensation of falling before blacking out completely.

———–

It’s mid-morning on Saturday when you gain some semblance that you had arrived home safely. Your roommate in her infinite patience makes you sit down on the small kitchen counter top, as she fixes you something light to eat and preps the first aid kid -- something that the both of you were already used to.

“You know,” your roommate remarks with a smile, as she puts more alcohol on your busted lip, “It might be nice to say thank you the next time you see him.”

“Why?” you remark angrily, as you push back due to the sting. She shakes her head before adding some antiseptic cream. This hadn’t happened since college, but you had cut down on the drunken bar fights and mosh pits since then. You were calmer, but that still didn’t mean that you had gotten rid of alcohol as your main vice.

She lets out an annoyed sigh before playing the napkin, “Well, you’re working with him and he obviously did a good thing.”

“I--”

“Let’s not take this whole lone whole bullshit right now,” she laughs. You stop talking and look at her with wide eyes, “Say thank you and move on. Simple as that.”

“Yes mother,” you remark, as her smiles grows. You know there is an underlying remark to all her worry, but she won’t say it out-loud. You decide not to say anything about the subject either.

———–

It doesn’t leave Steve for the rest of the weekend, after he had managed to get her to give him her home address and meeting a tired roommate, that the artist he was working was a barely functioning alcoholic .

It was the only thing that seemed like a logical assumption, but the way he had found her on the street was certainly more than he had ever seen from her. He wondered what had happened to tip her over, but he really didn’t have that type of relationship with her. He barely knew anything about her, outside that she was an artist and was an angry cynic.

“Sir,” the receptionist with pretty eyes calls out to him, “You have something waiting for you.”

Steve glances at the flower bouquet next to here. It dark leaves and flowers with a bright sunflower at the center. His name written in the center and though it feels a little silly to be getting flowers that doesn’t stop the goofy smile from growing on his lips.

Thanks.