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Welcome to our first story for Throwback Tuesday. Here we have the first story I posted in late 2024 back on my old account.
Pairing: Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader
Word Count: 2134
Summary: It's the night of the biggest party of the year. You've been working alongside Pepper and Nat to ensure this party goes well. What you don't count on is a stuck zipper. At least, you're married to a man with a plan who's never failed to let you down.
Warnings: none
A/N: This is the first story I also posted in my Avenger-Style Domesticity AU where we'll find domestic stories of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Sam Wilson. I hope you enjoy these stories again here and the new ones that are to come soon for this AU and many others.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Verse Masterlist
“It’s stuck.”
You tried to turn around at Nat’s words, but she stopped you before you could wrench the tiny zipper from her hands.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard the smallest shreds as the zipper caught the delicate fabric and refused to let go. It’s just that this couldn’t be the thing that went wrong tonight. Of all your planning with Nat and Pepper to make this event the talk of the year, you couldn’t afford to be brought low because of a measly zipper on one of the most expensive gowns you’ve ever owned.
“How bad is it?” you asked though you couldn’t be sure you wanted to know.
Nat didn’t immediately answer, which was answer enough.
“Can we pin it or something?”
A glance at Nat’s pinched features in the mirror sent a shiver of dread down your spine.
The party would start any minute. Not only would your dress keep you from your duties, you would miss out on seeing the one person you’ve been wanting to see the past few weeks. Oh, you’d missed him something fierce while he’d been away, and now you couldn’t be certain you’d have the reunion you wanted with him.
This was supposed to be one of your biggest nights, too.
How were you going to explain your absence? How could you leave Nat and Pepper to fend for themselves? Then again, how were you supposed to help if your dress’s darn zipper was stuck halfway up your back.
In your current self-pitying state, you almost missed the way Nat’s face smoothed. Her hand had gone to the small ear comm she wore, holding it as she listened to Pepper on the other end.
You had one, too, but you’d taken it out after it started bugging you. The intention had been to replace it after you’d gotten dressed and had no more time for yourself before the party started. That had fallen by the wayside when your dress had pulled its dirty trick and kept you standing in front of your mirror debating your options.
Whatever Pepper told Nat soon tugged her signature smirk over her features, replacing her previous frown.
“Pepper is sending us reinforcements,” she said after a moment, her hand dropping from the comm.
The smirk remained as the two of you waited for whoever Pepper had sent to save the day.
Within minutes, said savior arrived.
You couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past your lips as you took in the only man that’s held your attention and your heart for so many years.
His new suit fit him to perfection, but then, you had no doubt it would after sending his measurements to the best tailor New York City had to offer. The dark navy made his blue eyes pop while the silver vest beneath his jacket brought out the sparkle you so adored whenever he glanced at you.
“Hello, sweetheart,” his deep voice echoed softly through the room. “I heard you could use my expertise.”
Nat, not at all offended at being ignored, deepened her smirk as she moved toward the open doorway. It didn’t seem to matter how much your man filled it, blocking her. Having fought at his side longer than you have, it didn’t take much for her to slip past him. Then again, that could be her spy training more than her comfort at being one of his Avenger coworkers.
As if her disappearance gave him further permission, he stepped into the room, quickly closing the distance. He didn’t stop until only a mere foot separated you. His slacks brushed the outer layers of your dress’s full skirt.
“You look ravishing, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gaze missing nothing of the silver dress you wore with the navy lace creating intricate snowflake patterns.
Putting up a hand to keep him at bay, you raised a brow. “And you, Mr. Rogers, have been hanging out with Sam and Bucky too much if you’re using ‘ravishing’ as a word to compliment me. You’re going to behave until after this party is over. Do we understand each other?”
“You are married to Captain America, sweetheart. I’m the very beacon of honor and virtue.” He held up his hand as though he were a Boy Scout though his gaze continued to twinkle. His lips twitched with the amusement he wasn’t trying too hard to conceal.
You simply shook your head. “No, I married Steven Grant Rogers. You’re the epitome of a punk from Brooklyn just as your best friend has always claimed. Never back down from a fight even when you should and have a mouth that could make a sailor blush on a good day.”
“Is that so?”
It was his turn to raise his brows though his amusement remained.
Knowing what he wanted to hear next, you sent him a softer smile, indulging him. After all, you two have done this little dance since not long after the two of you fell in love. Reaching out, you rested your hand over the small pocket of his suit jacket. His heart beat steadily beneath your palm, relaxing you as it always did.
Even as you nodded in affirmation, you added, “Yet, you’re also the man with a heart of pure gold and always help your friends and family whenever they need you. I didn’t marry the perfect soldier the U.S. Army wanted, but the good man you are and will always be. My life has been better for knowing you, and I fall more in love with you every day.”
His amusement melted into such warmth and affection that you knew he’d behave for at least a little while.
“What do you need, Mrs. Rogers?”
Pressing the softest kiss you could to his lips and not mess up your pristine makeup, you flashed him a grin before turning around to show him your dilemma.
“It’s stuck. I can’t see the problem, and Nat’s face told me pinning wouldn’t work.”
Steve’s warm fingers brushed against your skin as he inspected the ornery zipper. He tugged gently, but the stubborn slider refused to budge. Another tiny rip of the delicate fabric reached your ears a moment before Steve raised apologetic eyes to yours in the mirror in front of you.
“Nat’s probably right, sweetheart, but…”
His brows knitted together as he continued to stare at your current predicament.
After several seconds, his brows smoothed and his gaze met yours once more. Inspiration had hit him in a way that never fails to take your breath away. Always the man with a plan, he didn’t hesitate in coming up with some unique solutions to even the most basic of problems.
“You still have your emergency sewing kit in your purse?”
You nodded.
He stepped away and picked up your purse. His gaze met yours for permission before he opened up the main flap. Always the gentleman. His hand felt around the few contents until it encountered the little tin he sought. The same little tin you inherited from your grandmother after she passed a few years ago. You never failed to update the kit with threads for whatever outfit you and Steve wore that day from your rather vast collection of sewing threads.
As he held up the little tin with a small triumphant grin, you thanked whatever gods were listening that you’d remembered to update it that morning with what you’d need for your evening attire as well.
“Stay perfectly still for me, sweetheart,” he murmured after threading the needle with the necessary thread and stepped behind you again.
You did as he asked. It took everything in you not to peek over your shoulder to see exactly what he was doing. Instead, you had to settle with feeling his fingers brush against you now and then, sending delicious shivers down your spine even as he worked diligently at your dress.
After what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than five minutes, he tied off the thread and snapped the extra with little effort. Turning you so your back faced the mirror, he nodded towards his work. “What do you think?”
It took a bit to get the right angle and see what he’d done.
When you did, you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past your lips. The stuck zipper remained in place, but the rest of your dress had been perfectly and almost seamlessly stitched closed. Only some nosy person would notice the zipper wasn’t all the way up with the way Steve had stitched your dress closed. You could barely make out the stitches he placed.
Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you blurted, “Where did you learn to sew? How did I not know this about you after all these years?”
Steve’s cheeks flushed at the awe in your voice.
“We didn’t have a lot of clothing options back then as there are today. My ma worked hard to provide me with what she could. I used to watch her doctor clothes for my smaller frame whenever she could afford to get me something new.”
His gaze took on a wistful expression as he remembered his old life and his mother.
You turned so you could rest your hands on his chest, offering him what comfort you could. He didn’t talk about his past as often as you thought he should, but you never pushed him, either. Not wanting to miss out on this new opportunity, you remained quiet.
A small grin spread across his features as he indeed continued.
“Well, I wasn’t one to take precautions with my clothes, either. Most of us boys didn’t. I probably should’ve for my ma’s sake, but I always got myself into one scuffle or another as you’re aware. Most often, I’d end up with a rip in either my shirt or pants. Sometimes, both. Not wanting to upset my ma, I used the little bit of knowledge I’d gained by watching her to start mending my clothes myself. It was better than asking her to do more for me when she was already doing so much.”
His grin softened as more memories seemed to surface.
“My first attempts were awful, but then, boys didn’t typically do what they considered girl chores back then. I got better over time. I even helped Bucky out a time or two when he needed it. Some way, I guess, to repay him for always looking out for me, too. It was better than the tongue lashing he would’ve gotten from his own ma for getting me out yet another bind.”
Unable to resist the desire, you rose up and pressed another soft kiss to his lips.
“What was that for?” he asked though his eyes glowed with warmth and a mirrored desire.
You brought one of your hands up to cup his cheek as you whispered, “Just because you’re you.”
As you moved to lower yourself, Steve followed you until he leaned into your space and took a swift but no less chaste kiss for himself.
“I love you, too, Mrs. Rogers.”
The two of you gathered up the rest of your items for the evening, including the masks you had made to match your outfits.
After all, the party was a masquerade. Tony had declared it so when he announced wanting to throw a holiday party for the Avengers and other important guests. At least, he left you, Pepper, and Nat to work out all the other details to make this night a spectacular one. It would certainly be one to remember after all your hard work and theirs.
As the two of you walked towards the elevators, a thought struck you.
Turning your head to look at your husband, you asked low enough so any others wouldn’t overhear, “How exactly am I getting out of this dress later?”
The smirk you’ve come to know and love appeared on Steve’s face. He helped you onto the elevator as the doors opened. His arm came around you as he held you close to his side. Only as the doors were closing did he bend down to whisper, “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. I’ve got a plan that will not only get you out of that dress but will satisfy us both before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
His lips skimmed along your neck until he reached the spot where it met your shoulder. A slight stinging nip of his teeth sent a tingling shiver down your spine. The promise clear in his action as his hand tightened at your waist.
The party, while an amazing success of your hard work, paled in comparison to the hours after where Steve lived up to his sensual promise in the elevator. It would be a night you wouldn’t soon forget.
From this mandala of childhood, anger, dread, incense, and excrement, Simon and Burns have mounted a war like no other on the small screen [. . .] No soundtrack cues or bullies us to scurry for cover or duck our heads; no score soars or swells to afflatus. [. . .] Generation Kill sings its own songs, through the dry lips and sick grins of nervy men in Humvees. Plus, the war actually looks like one. [. . .]Simon and Burns’s Iraq, filmed in Mozambique, South Africa, and Namibia, is desert and laser light, morphine and goats, camels and tattoos, bullets and Skittles, gay porn and Gilligan’s Island, South Park and Hustler, Noam Chomsky and dump jokes.
(Illustration by Wes DuvallPhoto: Paul Schiraldi)
HBO’s Terrific Summer Buzz Kill, by John Leonard, July 2, 2008, New York Magazine [x]
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming