Avengers Imagines and Preferences

On Your Left // Steve Rogers

It was a warm sunny day in June. You actually had the day off for once. As you thought about what to do, a certain thought crossed your mind. It was horrible, unspeakable, something you pushed deep down inside for so long that you'd nearly forgotten how much you hated it. Exercise.

With a sigh, you decided that maybe it was time you laid off the cream puffs and went for a run. It's been awhile. You laced on your sneakers and headed out the door of your apartment toward Central Park. Once you arrived, you knew the only way you would get this done is if you didn't think about it. So, you started a light jog. About one minute in, you heard a voice behind you.

"On your left."

Suddenly a man passed you at an alarming speed. He had broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. This dude is huge!

So, you continued to run. You were about half way around the park when you heard it again.

"On your left."

What the heck?! Who runs that fast? You brushed it off, deciding not to care. Then it happened again. This time, you tried to run as fast as him. You were determined to beat this jerk. Surprisingly, you made it pretty far, then you slowed down for a second, and before you knew it you had face-planted into the ground. Your head was foggy and your vision was blurred. A figure appeared above you and tried to talk, but you couldn't hear him. That was when everything went black.

--------

You opened your eyes and sat up, immediately feeling your head ache like a mother. However, you were more frightened than anything when you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. You were in a very comfortable bed that was sat in the middle of an immaculately clean room. There was a glass of water on the black table next to you, and you considered drinking it, but who knows if that crap is poisoned or not?

You slowly got up, feeling your head pound even more than it was before. You slowly opened the door and peaked your head out, surveying the room. It was dead silent, so you crept out and grabbed the metal pole that was leaning against the fireplace. You heard some shuffling in the kitchen, and decided that your only option was to fight. You peaked around the corner and saw a body. It's now or never.

You unleashed an unholy scream as you charged at the man in the kitchen. Just as you were about to bring your sword upon his head, he turned to look at you, spilled his drink, and slipped. Before you knew it, he was on the floor, covered in coffee. Looks like your work was cut out for you. 

"Who are you and why did you kidnap me?!" you demanded.

"Slow down, Y/N," the man mumbled from the floor, holding his hand up as a signal to stop.

"How do you know my name?" you screamed, becoming even more scared than you were before.

"Your wallet, it had your ID in it," he replied, slowly standing up from his place in the coffee puddle. However, he backed up a bit when you raised your pole again.

"Why am I here?" you growled lowly. His eyes widened at the sound, and he began speaking.

"You were running in the park and you started trying to go a lot faster, then you collapsed because you were overworked and dehydrated. You weren't waking up so I brought you back here," he explained carefully. 

"So you're not a psycho killer?" you inquired hesitantly.

"No ma'am, I don't believe so," he replied with a small smile. You lowered your previously readied weapon, suddenly feeling bad for trying to attack someone who was only trying to help you. That was when you started to get a closer look at him. The broad shoulders, the muscular arms, the light grey shirt...

"On your left guy?!" you shouted, suddenly recognizing him as the jerk from the park. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"Steve Rogers, pleasure to meet you," he grinned, extending his hand for you to take. You gingerly took it, and you gave him a firm handshake.

"I hate to be rude Steve, but could I possibly go home? My dog is probably starving and I need to clean the hou-"

"Of course, I wouldn't want to hold you captive. May I walk you home?" he offered.

"Oh, you don't have to burden yourself," you declined.

"Please, those streets aren't safe. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt," he insisted.

"And what about you? After you leave my place who'll protect you from the big bad bullies?" you teased.

"I have my ways," he smirked. He was mysterious, but in a charming way.

"I guess," you gave in. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door with you, but this time you made sure he walked on your right.