Summary:Sappy and hopelessly romantic, the part time art student, part time grocery bagger, and full time fantasy creator Steve Rogers lives in his head, with you as his muse. Making puzzles out of your groceries, and portraits of your every curve and edge, he fears and craves every interaction, while living with you as a lover in his mind.
A/N: Well. I have struggled with motivation for the longest. Something hit me though, and by something I mean other supportive writers and great friends. Hugest shoutout to @threeminutesoflife for being a darling and @imanuglywombat for making TWO beautiful mood boards I stare at more than Steve stares at the Peggy compass.
Warnings: creepy, obsessive Steve. ideation of creepy thoughts. food focused talk. mention of overeating. dub-con concepts. two mentions of alcohol consumption.
New blog, new me! I’ll take this moment to say I’m taking requests, and I love feedback even more than Steve loves you! hope you enjoy
Summary:You have been in a relationship with Steve for a while, and are reminiscing one of your favorite memories with him.
Word Count: 1558
Warnings: None. This is fluffy fluff fluff.
A/N:I hope you guys like my first imagine! Be sure to let me know what you thought of it. I know it’s kind of cheesy and corny and fluffy-poo, but I haven’t written in a while and I needed a warm-up piece, y’know? Well, anyway, I’m open to requests if you have any! Not my gif btw
You stood in the kitchen, your hair haphazardly pulled up in the sloppiest of messy buns. You were at the sink, rinsing some green beans for dinner. Music filled the room, from the tiny little Bluetooth speaker in the corner. It was Frank Sinatra, Steve’s favorite. You weren’t much into jazz until you met Steve, and he started playing it for you. Now it was almost all you listened to. You hummed along quietly, smiling as you remembered the first time Steve played this song for you.
———-
“Now, I know you said you don’t like jazz, but I really think you’re going to like this song.” he said, this excited grin present on his face. The two of you sat in his car, an old red convertible, in the parking lot of the restaurant you at which you just ate. The top was down, the sky was dark and clear, and your stomach was happily full of Italian food.
“If you say so,” you teased lightly, brushing some loose hair behind your ear. “But if I don’t like it, don’t be too disappointed.”
Steve just looked at you and shook his head. “You’re going to like it,” he said, determined, and pressed the play button. Soon the sounds of horns and strings filled the car, and Steve pulled out onto the street. The song, ‘April in Paris’, was beautiful, and you smiled as you listened to it. It was surprising, really, how much you liked it. You stared straight ahead, focusing on the music, but you could tell Steve was glancing over at you every few seconds to gauge whether or not you liked it.
Halfway through the song, you looked over at him and grinned. “I like it,” you said, and his face lit up like a dog getting a treat.
You started to say something else, but Steve reached over and covered your mouth with his hand. “Wait!” he cut you off as the sound of the horns slowly died. “This is the best part.” Within a moment, the horns and strings swelled back up, and Frank Sinatra’s voice rang out like church bells.
You glanced down at Steve’s hand, which was still over your mouth, and pushed it away. You stayed silent for the rest of the song, listening and thinking about this night- it was your fourth date with Steve, and you really, really liked him. He was sweet, and chivalrous, and old-fashioned, which was just adorable. And he was hot as hell, which was a nice bonus. You knew that dating a superhero would be complicated, but when it was all said and done, wasn’t every relationship at least a little complicated? You wanted to try and make it work with Steve, and it really seemed like he liked you as much as you liked him.
The song ended shortly after that, and you reached over and turned the volume down a little on the radio. “Where are we going now?” you asked, looking over at the broad-shouldered blond in the driver’s seat.
“To my favorite spot in the whole city,” Steve said, glancing over at you with this gleam in his eyes you had never seen before. Maybe it was the streetlights reflecting off of their baby blue tint, or maybe it was the stars, but you had never noticed just how beautiful his eyes were.
He drove you to the World War II Memorial, and you smiled softly as he parked the car. Of course this would be his favorite spot in the city. He opened your door for you and you walked together to the memorial. The moonlight reflecting off the water and the sounds of the fountains were calming.The World War II Memorial was right in between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, so you felt a sense of patriotism as you and Steve walked together. You didn’t say much to him as you walked around the memorial together, but instead listened as he explained the symbolism of all the arches and the pillars, the water and the lights, and told you all the facts about this memorial he could spew off the top of his head. He didn’t seem terribly overrun with grief as he talked about World War II, but there was definitely a glimmer of sadness in his tone. You couldn’t imagine how hard it all must have been for him. You slowly reached over and grabbed his hand as you passed Indiana’s pillar, not saying anything as you pressed your two palms together and interlaced your fingers. He looked down at you and smiled.
“God, there’s just… there’s something about you, (Y/N),” he said to you, stopped and turning to face you.
Your lips quirked up into a small smile, and he took a step closer to you. “I don’t know what it is,” Steve continued, releasing your hand so he could wrap his arms around your waist. “But I’m gonna find out.” You looked into his big, blue, Star-Spangled eyes, and you knew what was about to happen next.
Your heart was racing as he leaned in, and your eyes fluttered shut as you stood on your toes, pursing your lips. That song, ‘April in Paris’, started playing in your head, that part that Steve had loved so much. Your lips were just about to touch, barely centimeters away, and-
“Daddy, look, it’s Captain America!”
A small voice interrupted your thoughts, and Steve’s actions, and you turned to see a young boy and his father jogging towards you and Steve. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Moment’s over. Kiss it goodbye.’
Steve stepped away from you and wiped his hands against his pants, smiling at the little boy, who couldn’t be more than six or seven. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers. But my son here is a big fan of yours- could we trouble you for an picture?” The father asked, eyes darting between Steve and you.
“Of course he can,” Steve grinned, squatting down so that the little boy was just barely taller than him. “What’s your name, little guy?”
“Bryce!” Said the young boy, grinning at his hero.
“Do you want to climb on my shoulders, Bryce?”
“Yeah!”
You laughed slightly, stepping off to the side so that Bryce’s father could snap a picture with his phone. After a few minutes of taking some pictures and small talk, Bryce and his father were soon on their way, and Steve looked at you. His expression was apologetic, and you could tell he was about to say he was sorry. “Hey, look, (Y/N), I’m real-”
“Don’t be,” you shrugged it off, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “I thought it was sweet how you let them ruin our moment,” you teased, placing his hand back on your waist. Steve’s cheeks turned pink and you stood on your toes once again, assuming the position. “Now, where were we?”
Steve chuckled and pulled you closer, lifting you up off the ground just slightly. His lips soon touched yours, and it was like a thousand fireworks lit off. It was a sweet, slow, lazy kiss, and you loved it. That was night you realized you could definitely see yourself falling in love with this goofy, old-fashioned, all-American hero.
———
“Those green beans aren’t going to rinse themselves, Doll.”
“Shit!” You jumped, turning around to see Steve in the doorway of the kitchen. Your eyes grew wide, and your cheeks turned pink when he started laughing at you. “That’s not funny,” you pouted, tossing a green bean at him. “You scared me.”
Steve was still chuckling. He crossed the kitchen and wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you so that your hip was touching his. “What were you thinking about?” he asked, tucking some hair behind your ear and pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.
“Nothing,” you said spitefully, sticking your tongue out before walking over to the stove and turning it on.
“Aw, come on, bug,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “It must have been pretty important to take your attention away from the beans like that.” You turned your head so that you could look at him and blew a raspberry in his face. “Now, there’s no need to be feisty,” Steve teased, burying his head in the crook of your neck.
You stirred the soup on the stovetop, trying your best to ignore him and his incessant, loving touches and kisses. “Oh, come on. I’m sorry I scared you, (Y/N). Now talk to me! I haven’t seen you in a week. What’s been on that pretty mind of yours?”
You turned so that you were facing him, and his hands were now on your lower back. “I was just thinking about you, and your stupid haircut.” You teased, smirking as you reached up and ruffled his blond locks.
He rolled his eyes, and leaned down to kiss you. “You’re a whack job sometimes, you know that?”
“I know,” you said proudly, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But I’m your whack job.”
Another Sinatra song came on through the speaker, and Steve pulled you away from the stove so that your body was touching his. He swayed with you to the song, singing softly in your ear. “Fly me to the moon…”
You sat on your bed in tears. It was as you danced with Steve that night at Tony’s party that you had watched over his shoulder as Bucky had left with another woman. Technically, he had every right. The two of you weren’t a couple. You had been sleeping together for seven months and you were desperately in love with him, but he had told you many times he didn’t want a relationship. He never told you why, but he insisted that what was going on between the two of you stay casual. You had agreed but, stupidly, you had fallen for him and watching him take another woman to his bed hurt. You knew he probably had before but he had never done it in front of you.
Author’s Note: I’m super proud of this one. It doesn’t follow the song as much as some of the others, but it’s still super adorable. ENJOY!
You better watch out You better not cry Better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
Your son, Evan, was beyond ecstatic when you and Steve told him that you were going to see Santa. He had been on his best behavior for the past two weeks, being extra careful not to do anything bad until Christmas, which just happened to be tomorrow.
Now, you’re waiting in line with Evan who is bouncing up and down excitedly waiting for his turn to see Santa.
“You excited, little man?” Steve asks, looking down at his son with a fond smile.
“Yes! Daddy, I’m gonna meet Santa Claus!” The five year old exclaims. “I’m going to ask for something super special,” he says, a secretive glint in his eye. You raise an eyebrow at your son’s antics.
“And what’s that?” You ask.
“I can’t tell you, Mama! I can only tell Santa!” Evan deadpans, looking at you with a look that just screams “duh”.
He’s making a list And checking it twice; Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
When it’s his turn, Evan runs up the two stares and practically jumps into Santa’s lap. You laugh and lean into your husband’s embrace as you watch the scene in front of you unfold.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa says, lifting Evan up into his lap. “And what is your name?”
“Evan,” Evan says, but more timid than before.
“Have you been a good boy this year, Evan?”
“Yes, sir.” You grin at your son’s manners; it was something he’d been working on with him.
“And what do you want for Christmas, Evan?”
Evan eyes you and Steve warily before turning back to Santa and whispering into Santa’s ear.
“I want a baby sister.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa laughed. “That one might be a little out of my hands, but I’ll see what I can do.” You and Steve share a look; what had your son just asked for?
Evan smiled. “Thanks, Santa!” And then Evan jumped off of Santa’s lap and ran over to Steve.
“Merry Christmas!”
“You ready to go, bud?” Steve asks.
“Yup!” Evan replies, running a little ahead to get out of the line. Steve follows right behind him.
You, however, take a detour to ask Santa your own question. Santa raises an eyebrow as you lean forward just a little.
“What did he ask for?”
Santa chuckles. “He asked for a baby sister.” Your eyes widen and Santa and he chuckles once more. You mumble out a ‘thanks’ before you run to catch up with your family.
He sees you when you’re sleeping He knows when you’re awake He knows if you’ve been bad or good So be good for goodness sake!
After you put Evan to bed with the reminder that Santa won’t come if he doesn’t go to sleep, you and Steve settle down on the couch to watch some T.V.
“So, what did he ask for?” Steve asks as you cuddle into his side and turn on the T.V.
You giggle at the memory. “Oh! Santa said he wants a baby sister for Christmas. Hence the “that’s a little out of my hands” thing.”
Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he has one on the way, then,” he says, placing his hand over your stomach.
“Hey, we don’t know it’s a girl, yet,” you point out with a giggle.
“I guess not,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
O! You better watch out! You better not cry Better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
