Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 3

Outside the Lines (Rogers x reader)

Self-esteem issues

"Honey? Are you okay in there?"

The sound of Steve's voice froze you in place, staring at your reflection in the fitting room mirror, your arms wrapped so tightly around your own middle that you were practically choking away any chance at a breath. This was a stupid idea, and you had tried to tell him that, but would he listen? No, of course not. This was Steve Rogers, after all, and he barely ever listened to Bucky even under threat of harm, so why should he listen to you? Sure, a vacation away for just the two of you sounded like a dream, after so many years of nothing but work, but his choice of destination wasn't exactly your first. It left a lot to the imagination for your attire.

"Yeah...y-yeah, I'm good. Just another minute."

"Do I need to grab a different size for you?"

"Uh..." you whispered, pulling your arms down to take another look, "no. I'll be out in a sec." A slow spin in each direction showed that the ridiculously patriotic swimsuit that screamed 'she's mine' that he had picked out for you fit just fine, but it still wasn't comfortable to see yourself in. A thin blue ribbon tickled each hip with every move, and you had to fight the urge to rip the maddening threads away as the sensory overload began to kick in. It felt like the top of the suit was choking you around your throat, though the material was nowhere near close enough to try. You pulled at it anyway, taking a deep breath to prove to yourself that you could, only to gasp in terror as Steve suddenly appeared, popping his head in over the top of the fitting room door.

"Hey."

"Jesus, Steve! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Seeing what the holdup is."

Almost as an instinct, and certainly not because you needed to, your arms clamped around your middle again as if to keep him from seeing something, though Steve had seen every inch of you more than once already. "I told you that I needed another minute! Get outta here!"

"(Y/N), I've seen you before," he smirked, turning for just a quick glance behind him, "all naked...and stuff."

"Get out, Rogers."

Your tone hadn't changed like his had, with no joviality in it at all, and he became quickly concerned that he really had done something wrong. But then it dawned on him that he really hadn't made that terrible of a transgression by peeking in, and the way you were clutching yourself gave away the real reason that you were upset. With a furrowed brow, he stared at you for a moment longer before he tried again, despite your clear annoyance with it. "How long before you trust me?"

"W-what?" Now he had caught you even more off-guard than he had the moment before, his words unexpected, and your hands dropped to your sides in a desperate defeat. "I do trust you, Steve. What do you mean?"

He gave the door handle a slight jostle, leading you to allow him in; normally he would never find himself inside of a woman's changing room like this, because it just wasn't appropriate in any way, but his concern for what was going on with you was far more important to him than his comfort or what anyone else might think of it. Steve stepped inside cautiously, closing the latch behind him with the softest touch as to not seem too urgent, though he certainly felt that way. "Sweetheart, you look great. You don't need to cover yourself up like that. I've told you before, you're beautiful, no matter what you're wearing."

"Even this?" you scoffed. "Not only is there barely any fabric to it, but I'm waiting for you to write 'I love Steve Rogers' across it just to make it absolutely clear for everyone."

"Well, sometimes I'm not so sure," he whispered, pushing his hands into his pockets, with almost a timid sadness taking over his normally confident posture. "I mean...I didn't mean that, I'm sorry."

"I do, though, Steve."

"But you won't turn that towards yourself? I love you, (Y/N), and it's hard to see that you don't. When I try to tell you how I feel, and how I see you, it's like you don't believe me, and that no matter what I say, I'm just never going to be good enough for you to take seriously."

"You know that I'm trying," you argued, quietly and gently, hoping that he would see that you really were. It wasn't fair to rely on him to bolster your self-confidence at every turn, and you had been working on seeing yourself in a more positive light; he had a lot to do with that, and to hear that he didn't see it hurt to take in. "Steve, this is my stuff, okay? I don't want you to feel like...like it's...like I'm a burden," you stammered slightly. "Listen, I'll just change out of this and we can go, okay? We can talk about this somewhere else."

"No," he insisted, and his hands finally left their shelter. He reached out and took a hold of your waist, turning you around so that you could see yourself in the mirror again with him holding you in place so that you couldn't leave, and you couldn't move your arms to cover up. "Look. Look at how I'm seeing you."

"Steve-"

"Just look, (Y/N). Do you see anything in me other than how lucky I am to be next to you right now? Is there anything in my eyes other than how amazing I think you are? Anything other than how much I love you?"

"No," you gasped, holding your breath before it could break your voice even more.

"Do you believe it?"

"I...Steve..."

"You swore that you'd never lie to me."

He released his hold and took a step back, though his gaze never shifted, watching you and the subtle changes in your expression as you looked at yourself in the mirror and as his words tumbled through your mind. Steve was always honest, that was definitely true; if he didn't see the flaws that jumped out at you every time you saw this reflection, then maybe they weren't really there, and your mind was torturing you out of habit. It had been so long since you hadn't heard those voices tearing you down, that you never considered why they were there. Even if the flaws were true, it was abundantly clear that Steve either didn't see them, or didn't care that they were there because he loved you. Either way, as he continued to stare at you and waited for your answer, his feelings never faltered even through the worry of what you would say next.

"Yes, Steve. I believe you."