Steve Rogers X Reader Oneshots // Drabbles

Worth It

- self-loathing

- kinda angsty that turns fluffy, but nothing too severe.

- short

word count: 568

Worth It

" I have nothing to offer you," she said gazing down at her palms as they opened before her, and while her (e/c) colored eyes landed on them, she couldn't help but grimace as she gazed at the scarlet that never seemed to wash away.

It oozed from her very hands, and while she did everything she could to wash it away, she could never strip herself of the sickly feeling, much less when within her heart, there was a harbored guilt that heavily weighed her down.

'I just don't get how...' She told herself, not knowing what made her special to him.

'I can't see how...out of so many...

You'd go and pick me,' She thought with guilt, certain that she didn't deserve him.

She'd done too much bad to be gifted with someone so wonderful.

'It's a blessing in itself to have you care for me,' She thought tenderly, having already felt graced to be friends with him, associated with such a wonderful person that truly desired the best for her.

- That asked for nothing in return.

'But to think, To think that somehow, you've started to feel this way about me,' She mused, with a smile that held equal parts bitterness as it did sweet.

'I don't deserve this...I don't deserve you,' She went on, swallowing hard before her hands reached out to his, quickly taking them within hers as she let go of a long, struggling breath.

"I just don't understand," She confessed, letting him become aware of just how insecure she truly was.

She did her best to always swallow it down because the last thing she wanted was to have anyone concerned over her, and yet, somehow he always got a peek of her in such an exposed state where he could see just how soft she was.

He always managed to see everything she hid so well from everyone else.

"I just don't get it, Steve," She added, continuing to smile, yet slowly tearing.

During then her hands held him tighter, and in response, he did the same, in a silent way, encouraging her to pull through, and finally speak her mind.

"I'm not worth it," She said softly, all through a fit of chuckles that were of self-loathing, and only showed amusement at the fact that someone like him could ever even consider giving the time of day to someone like her.

"I'm not worth anything," she added while lowering her sights, and while her chin then went down to her chest, he put a stop to it by pulling up their grasped hands.

Kisses peppered over the knuckles, each one warm and sweet, loving in every way.

"You're worth everything to me," he assured her while slowly, he brought her hands to rest at his shoulders.

There, they stayed as his palms touched her cheeks, holding them with a devotion that showed in his pretty blue eyes, and that reflected back from hers.

He could see her love, he knew it was there.

And there wasn't anything in between them but her own doubt and loathing.

"I love you (f/n)," he told her, willing to repeat the phrase more than once, doing so until he was left with no words or breath because she had to know.

She had to one day believe in her worth.

She was deserving of a good life.

She was worthy of being loved.

- And would never lose the willingness to demonstrate it to her.