ˢᵃᵘᵈᵃᵈᵉ

steve rogers 𝔁 fem! reader
𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

❝ the ice queen? seriously? damn, fury must
have it out for you if he wants y/n to teach you. ❞

-ˋˏ 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓾 ˎˊ-

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐲.

He managed to creep his way into your life and your everyday schedule had you running into him at least twice a day. First, it was a simple interference: your history class. It was a class you rather enjoyed, however, some of the football team found themselves forced into the subject as a way to improve their grades. Or to at least show that they were trying. 

Out of the six guys in the class, you found that Steve Rogers, star quarterback and exceedingly well-liked student at Stark University liked the class the most. Or, once again, tried the most. He paid attention when the professor spoke, but he seemed to have a short attention span because once one of his friends decided to cause a ruckus, he was very happy to join in.

Although, allot of the time when you were packing up your things after everyone leaves in a hurry, you would spare a glance at the quarterback who would be apologizing profusely to Professor Fury. 

Much like today. 

You picked up your notebook, stashing it into your satchel bag that was littered with concert pins and embroidered patches, hiking it over your shoulder as you picked up your phone. 

Down at the bottom of the amphitheater, where Mr. Fury's desk sat, was Steve Rogers. He wasn't even trying to hide his slight yelling, given that he believed everyone had already left. 

"Then how am I gonna pass?"

"I don't know, Rogers," Fury dismissed. "I have tried to get you to listen this entire semester, and you would rather make a fool of yourselves with your friends at the back of my class."

"Not all the time," he weakly protested, which irked a sigh from his professor. 

"Would you hurry your ass up?" The pair looked down at the entrance of the classroom to their right, where a young woman stood. However, she wasn't looking at either of them, instead smirking at someone at the seats.

Steve looked up, eyes widening a fraction at the sight of you. He had almost forgotten that you were in this class, except for the fact that every time you entered, he felt the need to be an annoying jackass and make his presence known. You would roll your eyes and toss an insult, eliciting a series of jeers from his friends as they acknowledged the fact that you demolished their friend for the umpteenth time with one of your calculative jabs.

"Fuck off," you chuckled, readying yourself to lift your finger for your usual obscene gesture. 

"Meadows!" You turned to face Professor Fury, his single eye glaring with the force of a thousand as he exclaimed, "You know I don't allow no fucking swearing in my classroom!"

"Wow, so you're a hypocrite too," you hummed, offering a good-natured smile as you passed him. "I'll add that to list of interesting qualities of my all-time favorite professors."

"Suck-up," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Failure," you spat back, pinning him with a dark stare.

"Oh, tension," Fury acknowledged. "Well, this is gonna be awkward."

"And why would this be awkward?" you questioned, glancing at the footballer beside you. The venom had seeped from his features, now fueled with worry. The frown pulled at his handsome features, eyes tracing the ground as he scraped the floor. 

"Well, I was hoping Ms. Meadows would be willing to help you," the professor stated as he looked at Steve, causing your eyes to widen. "Rogers here has been failing all semester, and if he doesn't pass this mid-unit exam, well, you can wave bye-bye to the football team."

"I heard it from the dean, I don't need to hear it from you," Steve glared.

"Wow, that is so sad," you nodded, looking at the boy beside you with a sympathetic gaze. He raised a brow in confusion, not quite believing you, and was completely right when the look faded from your eyes within an instant. "Well, I hope you find someone willing to help you, pal. But this was fun. See you on Thursday, Professor."

You hopped away, and you were out the class before either could speak. Steve watched your figure disappear behind the double doors before reeling to look at his professor. 

"Guess your 'most-liked student' trajectory just dipped a little."

Steve rolled his eyes at Fury's words, speaking forth, "Seriously? Her?"

"She's the best in my class," the man shrugged. "Don't you want the best?"

"I want someone who I can stand," the quarterback rebuked.

"Well, I hope whoever you find is offered the same treatment." Fury walked towards his desk, picking up his leather satchel as he slipped his laptop into the bag. "I hate to break it to you, Rogers, but I happily will; not everyone on this campus likes you."

"I never expected anyone too," Steve defended himself with a frown. "It's not like I asked to be popular."

"Pity party," Fury yawned. He passed his student and patted his shoulder as he passed. "I can recommend a few other students, but I think- no, I know they'll have to same reaction as Ms. Meadows did just this minute."

Steve sighed to himself, watching the man leave the classroom, leaving him in the bright amphitheater. For a moment, he stayed silent, mulling over what he could in his head. Yes, he could seek you out and beg on his knees - and knowing how sick you are, you'd eat it up and possibly record it for the whole school to witness - or he could try his luck with a couple of the other students. 

Shit, he thought to himself. The former was looking a lot more promising. At least with you, he'd be able to make some type of deal where you benefit.

Leaving the classroom, he was greeted by his teammates who were sitting around a wooden outdoors table. James smiled at him in greeting, patting his shoulder as he sat down on the bench with a huff. 

"What's up with you, princess?" Sam joked, glancing at his friend as he sipped on a juice box. 

"Fury's up my ass," Steve sighed. "I'm failing class, and he said that the only way for me to pass would be if I were to get some help."

"Help? From who?" Bucky asked. 

Wordlessly, Steve retraced his gaze to find you; you stood against a tree with your close friends, laughing at something one of them had said. 

"Oh. Oh, you're joking," Sam cackled, pinching his eyes shut. "The Ice Queen? Seriously? Damn, Fury must have it out for you if he wants Y/N to teach you."

"Hey, she's not that bad."

The voice sounded from behind them, and the trio turned around in their seats to find Natasha. She was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top due to the humid temperature, flicking her short braid over her shoulder. 

"Isn't she?" Steve questioned.

"Don't be an asshole, she's my friend," Nat scoffed, rolling her eyes as she sat down on the opposite side of the table. "And she's very nice if you're nice to her."

"Well, your lucks out the window," Bucky smirked, chuckling when his best friend shoved him. 

"Look, if you could appeal to my good nature for her, then maybe she'd actually help me," the quarterback tried to his friend, offering the red-haired woman a doe-eyed look. 

"Get those out of here," she said, pointing at his blue eyes. "And why don't you just grow a pair and ask her yourself? I hear about them all the time on the cheer team."

Her smirk was tinged with amusement as she waved goodbye to the boys, sauntering off towards you. You greeted her with a bright smile, leaving your friends with a wave and farewell before you both disappeared into the library. 

"She's my best bet," Steve resigned, slumping on the table.

"If she'll have you," James snickered.

You slid your finger on the mousepad of your laptop to the next slide in the PowerPoint. For your business major, your professor had put a quick study guide that accumulated all the necessary knowledge that would be absolutely necessary for the upcoming exam in a few weeks.

You flipped to the next page of your notebook to start another mess of rushed writing and highlighted words when a bag hit your table. Loudly.

"Shit," the owner of the backpack cursed, glancing around and whispering an apology to the students sitting nearby. They casted him dark looks purely for breaking their concentration but quickly went back to their work. 

You looked up with raised brows, sighing at the sight of Steve. He was sitting down, glancing at you every second or so as he made himself comfortable. It was quite amusing, the dynamic of him and his large body sitting on such a tiny seat. He physically screamed loud and yet, he was sitting in the quietest place at the university. 

"Steven," you greeted. "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Cute," he muttered, sending you a tight-lipped smile. "I need you."

"Wow, so forward," you whispered, keeping your eyes on the notebook as you wrote in it.

You heard him heave a frustrated smile, causing a tiny smirk to flit across your lips. "I need you to help me with Fury's history class."

"And why would I do that?" you asked, finally looking up from your notes. "For all I care, you deserve the failing grade. All you do in class is piss everyone off and not do any of your work. You don't even try."

"But I want to do something about it. Doesn't that show that I'm trying now?" 

"You're a little bit late for trying."

You started your work again until you were interrupted by a hand over your own. You flinched slightly, looking up to lock gazes with the gorgeous quarterback of Stark University. You didn't want to admit that his eyes were as unfathomable blue and sinkable as the girls on campus gushed. You hoped that they were over exaggerating. 

... They weren't.

"Y/N... please." His tone was borderline begging, and the way he looked at you, it was visible to the naked eye just how desperate he was. 

You sighed. 

"Fine."

Study sessions with Steve Rogers were not fun. He always tried to contradict what you were saying, coming up with his own bullshit extension of the idea you were trying to teach him just to piss you off. And it was working. 

"No, Napoleon wasn't tall."

"Then why is his ego so fucking huge?" Steve wondered, and you almost smiled at how clueless he felt about the whole ordeal. "I mean, people literally called him Le Petit Caporal."

"Not for his stature," you sighed. 

"I know I would call him that."

You sighed, frustrated at the fact that somehow whilst talking about the fall of the Roman Empire, you had managed to draw attention to the little French corporal. All because of Steve. 

That was the first of many sessions with the brute, and with each one, you had to admit he was getting a bit better. He started listening more when the topics you mentioned intrigued him such as World War II.

But most of all, you hated to admit that Steve Rogers was getting to you. 

He would show up to the library with drinks and pastries from a cafe, and within three days, he had learned your favorite cake pop flavor and drink order. You started to see Steve for the way he really was; not when he was trying to impress his friends or the people sitting around him. Not for the way girls ogled him when he would fuck around during classes and intervals.

And you hated that he was so flirtatious. Steve managed to make you blush on a daily basis, and you had no idea why. For the first two weeks or so, you had managed to evade his advances and continue to fuel your annoyance for him whenever he didn't pay any attention.

But when he did start actively listening to you and showing genuine interest in both the topics you were teaching, actually passing the subject and you, sometimes you found yourself smiling a little too long or laughing a little too breathily.

"Nat talks about you," Steve smiled. "Allot."

"She must like me," you chuckled in a joking manner.

"I'm starting to see why."

His smirk was soft, and although it must be a far stretch from the cocky grin he usually sported, you still admired the lilt of his lips.

You learned that he was actually quite studious and took learning seriously. You had noticed this one session. 

You and Steve had stayed up late at the library, bordering midnight. He was finally grasping the specific terms for the second world war when you dismissed yourself to grab a drink from the overnight kitchen. They weren't the best of course, but they were still good fuel. 

You had been gone for about ten minutes, returning with instant coffees and two packets of chips when you found Steve lying face-forward on the table. You softened your approach to the table, placing the items down on the wood surface. Dipping down, you watched the boy for a moment. 

He slept peacefully, and you didn't realize he could get any cuter. His hair was disheveled and draped across his forehead. Soft snores sounded and small breaths escaped his full lips.

But the notes beneath his hand caught your attention. You never bothered to check his notebook when he was with you as he usually went off your own. Pulling it from beneath his arm, you gently pried it open, and the contents shocked you. 

Every possible thing you had ever taught Steve in these past few weeks were scribbled in neat enough writing. Of course, his bored side showed with the little doodles littering the corners of the lined pages. 

You were too caught up in awe of his progress to realize he was slowly waking back up. Steve yawned, stretching forward before he found you. You stood close to his side, reading through his notebook, eyes alight in a way that could only showcase pride. 

"Hey... what's wrong?" he gently called out to you.

Your attention was his, just how he liked, and you blinked. "Nothing," you supplied, smiling as you handed him his notebook. "I think that's enough for tonight. Let's head home."

Steve complied with a nod, standing to his full height. He helped you gather your things, even placing the strap over your shoulder to which you rolled your eyes with a huff. Leaving the library, you insisted for the millionth time that Steve didn't have to walk you back to your dorm, but like always, he denied your request and accompanied you on the walk. 

Between the two of you, there was a comfortable quietness. Steve had his hands stuffed in his jacket whilst you tucked yours under your arms to gather warmth in your fingers.

"I didn't realize you actually worked in our sessions," you joked softly, breaking the silence. 

He glanced down at you at the sound of your voice. He was already half in love with it. "Of course, I pay attention. How could I not listen to you?"

"'God, your voice reminds me of Hell'".

"... Jesus, I was such a dick."

You both laughed, and you had brushed off his jab that day because you had handed him a much better one. You remember him looking at you in awe, soon questioning how you come up with such interesting yet insecurity-provoking insults.

"Aside from that, I'm just glad you're actually listening. I saw your notes, and they're great. I was starting to think people were being dramatic."

Your words made him pause, a frown painting his features. "What do you mean?"

You chuckled, glancing up at him, only to find genuine curiously on his face. And nervousness. "Oh, it's just... People think you're a little pretentious," you said softly.

"Pretentious?"

"And arrogant."

"Arrogant."

"I've heard 'cocky'."

"From yourself?"

"Oh, and a little old-fashioned."

"Old-fashioned?" he repeated in a laugh. "How is that considered bad?"

"I actually don't know," you confessed with a shrug. "I think it's just the whole look; you look straight out of the 40s or something."

"Right," Steve chuckled before he sunk back into wonder. "Why would people say that about me? I like to think I'm a nice guy."

"Oh, trust me, nearly all of the school is in love with you," you promised with a laugh. "But you just have those few people, like me, that you ceremoniously piss off. I wouldn't worry about it."

You were nearing your dormitory, the dark stoned building a familiar sight. Your roommate, Maria, was probably already asleep, but like you, she was study driven and could possibly be awake studying for her biology exam in two days.

"So... these people that I piss off, including you... how would I get them to fall in love with me like the rest of the school?"

You paused near the doorway and turned to face him a moment later. The way he was looking at you... God, you felt like putty. Which is not a good thing.

Clearing your throat, you questioned, "And why... Why would you need to know that?"

Steve smirked, leaning down which was quite a stretch for him at his over 6'0 frame. His breath was more than enough of a kiss for you as it brushed against your ear. 

"Cause I want whatever I'm feeling to be mutual, and you're the one lagging behind."

You were still reeling from that interaction with Steve three days later when you received a message from him. 

wanna have a session between drills?
if so, meet me at the field :)

You responded with a simple thumb's up emoji, trying not to show your excitement through text but the way you were dashing towards the football field was enough of a display. 

A few minutes later, you found yourself walking down the steps of the bleachers. The Ironmen football team were practicing what you supposed were drills. You spotted your- the quarterback from afar, if not for the large red block lettering of his last name, but the way he towered over his teammates in both height and command. 

You were about to sit down when Steve spotted you, and although you couldn't see his face, the way his back straightened and his shoulders loosened, you could tell he was as excited to see you as you were him. 

Well, you hoped.

He called out your name, utter joy painting his tone from the way he said it and you offered a wave from the front seat of the bleacher. However, Steve's yell had captured the attention of his teammates, and not a moment later, more than half a dozen footballers were staring at you. 

"Oh, hi Y/N!" Bucky drawled out with a sappy wave. 

"Heyyyyy, Y/N!" Sam grinned. 

"She's real?" Thor questioned before patting his friend's back with a grin as bright as the sun above. "I thought you were going crazy, Rogers!"

You couldn't help but chuckle as Steve shoved his close friends and his other teammates who soon continued the mockery. He jogged towards the chain-link separating the bleachers and field, meeting you at the fence. 

"Ignore them," he pleaded.

"I'll try," you snickered.

It was quiet between you both for a moment before he abruptly seized your hand over the fence, his fingers practically caging yours in as he linked them. You tilted your head in a silent questioning at the action, and the pure severity of it.

"You came," Steve breathed out.

"Why wouldn't I?" you wondered.

He didn't answer, instead let go of your hand and walked through the gateway a few steps away. You sat down on the seat, waiting as he sat down in front of you, legs framing the metal bench whilst you crossed your knee underneath your other leg. 

"What did you want to study?"

"I wanted to go over those flashcards you wrote for me," he answered. "The ones for the exam."

"Sure," you nodded, reaching into your bag. "Good thing I packed them."

For about fifteen minutes, you managed to do some light studying with Steve. However, he seemed extremely distant and not at all focused on the topic. As you read out the palm card question for the third time, you sighed, placing the stack back into your bag.

"Steve, is something bothering you?"

Your words- voice alone, was enough to grasp his attention. He grimaced, feeling complete guilt wash over his body at the sight of you looking so concerned. 

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized with a sigh. "I've just... I've just got some stuff on my mind."

"Like...?

He smiled softly, knowing you weren't going to not pester him. You cared too much. And he loved that. 

"Well, for one, the exam," he started. "I feel like I know nothing about anything in this class, and as cliche as it sounds, I love football. It's what I'm good at... and if I fail this exam, it's out the door."

"Steve, you're gonna be amazing," you promised, reaching forward and placing a hand on his knee, your grip reassuring. "You're incredibly gifted, and smart so don't sell yourself short. Besides, I taught you. If anything, Fury is gonna wonder if you cheated cause your answers will be so good."

The quarterback chuckled, shaking his head and you just had to join in; he had that effect.

"Thank you," he smiled softly, his gaze portraying even more emotion than his tone.

You hummed, grinning shortly as you avoided his eyes, finding them much to enticing. "And... anything else?" you prodded. 

It was unlike Steve to look this anxious, but the way he shakily breathed out and the way he averted your gaze was answer enough. You had just cheered him up, and now he had fallen back into a nervous wreck.

"The other thing..." He chuckled breathily. "The other thing is... I wanted to..."

"... Jesus, Steve, spit it out-."

"Would you go out with me?" he interrupted your intervention.

Your eyes widened at the question, lips parting in shock and wonder. Did you... Did you hear him correctly? No fucking way. Steve Rogers most definitely was not asking you out. 

Oh, but he so was.

You blinked, closing your mouth as Steve awaited your response. "Um... You... Yeah, um, this is kind of-."

"Out there? Abrupt?"

"A little," you agreed almost instantly.

"It's not a study thing," Steve mumbled. "I'm aiming for the date trajectile; you know, a nice dinner where I could take you out."

"... Why?"

"Why?" he repeated in a chuckle, finally feeling some of the unease slip from his body. "I mean, w-why not?"

"No, yeah, I get that, but... why?"

Steve smiled, closing his eyes before leaning forward. You hadn't yet processed that he was moving forward to kiss you, and it seemed your entire body paused when his lips pressed against you. They seemed to fit against your mouth almost perfectly, and the actions you soon committed just seemed to come naturally to you.

Your hands lifted on their own, drifting to his neck where your thumb grazed the end of his jaw before your fingers slid through the thick locks of his hair. They were smooth to touch, and you pulled him even closer, the man humming at the feeling. 

His hands rested against your knee and the curve of body between your lower back and thigh. Finally, he thought to himself when you practically sunk into his hold. Four weeks of waiting, and it was all so fucking worth it.

Pulling away, you breathed out through your nose, slightly embarrassed at how rushed it sounded. You so were not going to say that he kissed you breathless.

"Is that reason enough for you?"

The words were ghosted against your cheeks as he pressed another gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. You preened at the affectionate gesture, patting his neck softly.

"... Yeah, but I want a list or something," you whispered against his lips.

The moment was so sweet, and his gaze even sweeter... until-

"How cute!"

"This is definitely a 'dear diary' moment, ain't it, Rogers?"

The gushing of his teammates had you breaking into a fit of laughter, covering your mouth with your hand as Steve sighed, feeling himself to release a chuckle. 

"I suppose you guys come in a package?" you asked with a tilt of your head. "If I get you, I have to get them?"

Steve grimaced, and his answer was a simple nod before he laughed. "I wish I could answer differently, but yes."

"That's okay, I guess," you mused, lifting your hand to grace over his cheek. "Just as long as I have you like this, and they mind their business sometimes, then it's okay."

"I can try and promise you that, doll."