Edge of Seventeen | 18+ { Steve Rogers}

Chapter 1 | Higher Ground

Welcome one and all to another story brought to you by my wild imagination! 🤗

This one will be explicit, language, smut, and slight d/s undertones if you squint, sugar babyish vibes, the original female character is somewhat of a sugar mama. There is drinking so please read at your own discretion! There is an age difference between the two main characters, about twelve years. So just keep that in mind!

Jesse_Winter_Soldier  , will be beta reading for me again. Because she's amazing!

I'm not going to commit to a posting schedule with this one, chapters will pop up when they pop up.

So without further ado, I give you Edge of Seventeen! Please drop a like and leave me some feedback! 💋

Happy Reading!

-Sif

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March

Steve steps out of his apartment building into the cool March morning, the sun has barely started to rise; he can see a mix of blue, yellow, pink, and orange skin blending like a watercolor fire in the sky, breathtakingly beautiful. He steps onto the sidewalk, zipping up his jacket, and nods to Mrs. Fitzpatrick as she walks her overweight dachshund, Peanut.

He's got this nervous energy pent up, more bad news, he can't seem to catch a break. He sometimes works twelve-hour shifts at Dugan's Bar & Grill in upper Manhattan and goes to school part-time at CUNY, working on his Bachelor of Architecture; he's got two years left of undergrad. To say his plate is full is an understatement, Steve busts his butt every day to make ends meet, and bills keep piling up. He feels like he can't keep his head above water. So he stuffs his second-hand earbuds in, hits play on his running playlist, stuffs his phone in his pants pocket, then checks his watch, syncing his run.

The sound of a guitar, followed by drums and piano, starts to fill his ears; Steve falls into his running headspace. This is the only time he can seem to shut out all the noise in his head, he doesn't worry about the disconnect notices piling up on the counter, the late payment notice his landlord left tapped on the door for him to find at almost five this morning after making the hour-long trip from Manhattan back to his crapshoot of an apartment in Brooklyn.

When you grow up, living like a good boy ought to
And your mama takes a shine to her best son
Something different, all the girls, they seem to like you
'Cause you're handsome, like to talk, and a whole lot of fun

But now your girl has gone a-missing and your house has got an empty bed
The folks'll wonder 'bout the wedding, they won't listen to a word you said

He sighs, setting his comfortable pace, letting Scissor Sisters keep him company as he takes off through the morning crowd of fellow Brooklyners heading to work. Nothing but the music, the pounding of his heart, and the thump of his feet on the pavement.

We're gonna take your mama out all night
Yeah, we'll show her what it's all about
We'll get her jacked up on some cheap champagne

We'll let the good times all roll out
And if the music ain't good, well, it's just too bad
We're gonna sing along, no matter what
Because the dancers don't mind at the New Orleans
If you tip 'em and they make a cut

The cold air nips at his nose and cheeks, the black sock hat on his head keeps his ears warm, his jacket is zipped up, his jogging pants swish as he moves; the leftover snow from the snowstorm a few weeks ago slushes under his sneakers. All around him, the sleepy city starts to wake up and the streets get busier, buses are running, taxis are pulling off to pick up people, and horns start honking from commuters. Steve does not pay any attention to it, he focuses on the next song that begins, Higher Ground by Red Hot Chili Peppers.