Situations with Chris Evans (and characters)!
[ CHRISEVANSXFEM!READER SMUT/FLUFF ]
* mild language and explicit depictions of sexuality (other trigger warnings stated at the beginning of the chapter). 18+ or else...
requests are [open but no guaran...
A/N: PART TWO TO THRILL ME HALF AS MUCH FINALLY 🙌🙌 i think this is the most wonderful thing i will ever write and i dont know how to go on authoring after this Summary: America's Golden Boy shows up at your door. You're his girl after all. 3.4k words. Warnings: smut, but like soft, very very minor body dysmorphia on steves part, nervousness, some shouting/anger, begging, subby steve
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"Steve?" you whisper.
"I think so."
"The hell did you do with my Stevie?"
...
"Darlin', come on, you gotta believe me. I'm right here, it's still me," Steve begs. He pines. He could die.
He had waddled inside carefully and shut the door when you backed away from him. And you're pacing the room like a caged animal. It weighs on his shoulders, looming like a nightmare.
Then you stop—fiddling with your own fingers—and turn toward him. Your rage is damp like a stormy sea, and the tears well in your eyes so bad he might fall to his knees.
"How could you?" you huff, pressing your pointer finger to the center of his chest. "You left us, Steve—"
"I know—"
"No, you left me. And now you're back with no warning whatsoever and you're a different person or what and... and you left me." His chest burns at the waver in your voice. You bow your head in defeat, something he knows better than most.
Silence hangs in the air, heavy like guilt and dripping like candle wax. You lift your head just to stare blankly at the neck of his tee. He did leave you. And he can't take it back, he knows it. But he has to try. Because:
"I came back," he says, "for you."
He's grinning like a dope, and it's hard to frown at him when your intent falters for a moment. But oh, do you frown, eyes glossy and that scowl tormenting him worse than the war across the sea.
"Don't pull that bullshit with me, Rogers, you—you can't just run off. Not like that," you huff, dodging eye contact and crossing your arms over your chest. "Not without a kiss goodbye."
He thought a new body would mean a higher charm tolerance, but no, you prove him wrong and cloud his mind with a single clause. Then you blink up at him and there goes his last coherent thought. It all adds up to you anyway. Lord knows he kept every picture, every drawing, every note. Every memory stays stuck in his head and hands for eternity now, and to seal his fate with a kiss would be the nail in his well-varnished coffin.
