Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

Challenge Accepted...? - Pt.1/1

Steve simply stood there, ribcage expanding widely, favouring his left leg, his arm curled around his ribs as if he was in a fight with a hostile agent who landed a lucky hit and not with a building that had fallen on him, apparently.

Your feet acted on their own account as they brought you to him, your body crashing into his chest with ferocity, arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his shoulder. He grunted at the brutal impact of your weight, but his hand reluctantly let go of the shield and had it hit the ground, his arms sneaking around your body instead.

'Don't squeeze too tight,' you scolded yourself. 'He might be bleeding internally. Don't squeeze him too tight, he's hurt, because-'

'-because he's a fucking idiot!'

Just as he buried his face in your hair, you jerked away, staring him down with a murderous glare.

'He's injured,' you reminded yourself, but that didn't stop you.

Balling your hand in a weak fist, you punched his chest with vigour, flaring rage replacing the dread in your veins, searingly hot and destructive.

"I thought you were dead, you—you stupid piece of-- jerk!" you spitted out venomously, your impression of a harpy ruined by your voice breaking as you choked on a sob.

His blue eyes shone bright yet tired through the smudges of dirt on his face, dust and trickle of blood on the side of his neck, seeping into the high collar of his uniform. He was a picture of misery and exhaustion, but you were torn between pity, relief and anger as he reached out for you, offering you something small in his palm.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he rasped, voice rough from the smoke he doubtlessly inhaled. "But I got the drive-"

Snatching the stupid device from his hand, you threw it away – peripherally checking where it landed – and stretched your arm to hit him again.

Weary hand caught your blow before it could collide with its target and with a strength that surprised you he could still possess after nearly getting buried alive, he pulled you into his embrace again, wrapping you in his arms and breathing you in as if he needed to assure himself you were still in the land of living. Or perhaps he felt the urge to confirm that he was still breathing?

"It's okay, sweetheart," he creaked lowly, his fingers flexing on the flash of your sides. "I'm okay..."

You shook your head wildly, but didn't try to escape the cage of his arms, melting into his frame instead.

The truth was though, you fundamentally disagreed with him.

He was not okay. And you most definitely weren't either.

-.-.-

You, in contrary, adored the board. Not because it reminded you of the faults your beloved boyfriend had, but because you were hopeful that the whole team giving him shit about it would cause him to be less impulsive and more considerate of the consequences of his actions.

The sign read: '______ without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit'

You had proudly written down number 3 and the word days. You prayed the number would climb (and that you might possibly write down 'months' instead of just days), even after Steve healed completely and returned to active duty; which was apparently about to happen very soon.

"Sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh? Nope. It's staying right here and you better be getting to higher numbers than that."

"But-"

"When did you ever back away from a challenge, Cap?" Sam entered your discussion subtly and you sent him a grateful wink, while Steve shot him a glare that would have had him lying in a pool of blood if a glare could kill.

"That is awfully accurate," you noted with a tired sigh, torn between enjoying Steve's discomfort and fighting with the anxiety caused by the fact that what Sam said was uncomfortably on point. "I can't believe it took me so long to see the extends of your lacking self-preservation. I didn't believe them when I first joined, you know? When they told me you were reckless...? God, I should have known better..."

"He did crush a plane before-" "I'm not that bad-" Sam and Steve spoke at the same time and you rolled your eyes at the former, locking your gaze with the latter.

"1 minute and 19 seconds," you protested, not offering any context.

Both Sam and Steve seemed flabbergasted at your statement.

"Huh?"

"I asked Tony about the time," you elaborated, voice dangerously low. "For 1 minute and 19 seconds after the explosion, there was nothing but silence from you. I thought you were dead," you repeated your words from that day to remind him.

A flare of fury ignited in your chest again and Steve must have recognized the expression of your face, because he instantly took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

You huffed, running your hand down your face, forcing your breathing to return to normal as your glances met and you exchanged a wordless conversation.

His 'I'm sorry,' followed by a perfect set of kicked-puppy eyes he excelled at performing.

Your raised eyebrow in return and 'I'm sure you are. And?'

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?" Steve resigned and it brought a victorious smirk back to your face. The victory tasted bittersweet, the fact you were still discussing his near-death experience kinda taking the satisfaction of overpowering him away.

"No."

"And you're gonna remind me at every occasion, aren't you?"

"Yep," you chipped and crossed the distance that had somehow managed to grow between the two of you. You raised your hand and repeatedly poked at his chest with your index finger; cheekily, yet deadly serious. "Until it gets through your thick skull that your life matters too much to me, to all of us, you idiotic. Piece. Of dumb-"

You never got the chance to finish your outraged clipped sentence. Steve shut you up the most effective way known to lovers of humankind.

His fingers sunk into your hair in one swift movement, pulling you in for a dramatic kiss.

And after the days of torturous distance, you gave in, convincing yourself that you'd get plenty of opportunity to give him shit about his recklessness later.

After all, you had the sign to help you with that.

Judging by the burst of laughter as the rest of the team entered the kitchen, you bet they would have your back as well.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in conciliatory manner once more, his words brushing your lips. "I love you."

"Hpmf. I love you too. But the sign stays."

"...dammit."

-----Notes:

Sooo, I possibly made it too long? *sigh* I also hope I didn't like... broke some rule or something, my first prompt fic and all. If I did, I'm really sorry.

Anyway, I wanted to thank @mermaidxatxheart for letting me be a part of this challenge.

Hopefully you enjoyed reading even though this one was a bit rough :))