Attached *Steve Rogers*Reader*

4) Words of Salvation

Warnings: swearing, mention of porn, awkward conversations, brief panic, the briefest mention of a kink... and that's it I think?

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Never in your life you had called finals a blessing. The end of semester always meant eating crappier than usual, at the strangest times too, lacking sleep, overdosing on caffeine, people being in a foul mood and praying to whatever gods that came to mind to pass every exam in a forget-the-grades- just-let-me-pass style.

This year however, finals and the mess that came with them was exactly what you needed to get your mind off of your epically embarrassing error. The load of studying left you so nervous you didn't even realize that your one of your tests was with Professor Barnes; once you finished writing and the paper disappeared from your sight, your hands automatically gathering your things, your steps leading you out of the auditorium, you nearly stumbled over your feet when you met Barnes' smirk. But he didn't give you any special treatment, promising to let you all know your grades via an e-mail and the incident was once again completely forgotten as you returned to the mad pit of exams time.

Two days later – Friday, which you only knew because it was your last test altogether and you simply couldn't wait to fall into your bed and sleep for a week –, you left the class and felt the tide wave of freedom wash over you. You were still to learn some of your marks, but you were surprisingly confident that you passed everything.

You inhaled deeply, just standing in the empty corridor and smelling freedom, feeling your shoulders relaxing, the long-lasting tension in them finally subduing a bit.

"Done with everything?" a male voice startled you and you honest to god yelped and jumped few inches above the floor, your hand shooting up to your chest in fright, your heart missing a beat or two.

Your eyes snapped open at the intrusion you never heard coming, but you didn't need to see to know who spoke. That voice starred your sweetest dreams – and after the incident, your nightmares too.

A tiny smile played on his lips, his brows creased a fraction, beautiful blue eyes apologetic.

"I'm sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. I didn't mean to startle you," Professor Rogers offered his apology along with a smile that seemed almost sheepish.

Your heart was on its way out of your chest, heat already rising to your cheeks. Just seeing him was enough to make you hot all over, but for once, you had a hard time identifying whether it was because of your embarrassment or the fact he was no less handsome and friggin' hot than usual.

You clenched your fists, fingers fumbling nervously even in that position.

What were you supposed to say? Why did he even stop to chat with you? Was he about to confront you? Had he read the... thing you wrote? Would he laugh at you? Not likely. Would he report you or something? Well, so far he haven't. Maybe it was a coincidence and he was simply being nice since he ran into you in an empty hallway?

Yeah, not likely.

"It's... it's nothing," you finally stuttered out, your hands moving to play with the straps of your backpack instead, your gaze avoiding his, because how could you even look him in the eye ever again if he had read it? God, what he must have been thinking about you-

You cleared your throat awkwardly, forcing yourself to focus on literally anything else. He asked you a question, right?

"Yeah, I'm done. Thank you for asking...?"

Was it just your imagination or did he seem nervous too? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, arms crossing on his chest.

It was impossible to ignore the way his biceps bulged in that stupid dark blue shirt of his that was a size too small and you felt your face catch fire as you instinctively ogled him because Jesus Christ, when you are posted in front of an art piece, you do not look the other way.