tom holland/peter parker and steve rogers oneshots

forgiveness- steve rogers

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a cliche in which she learns

to forgive him and accept

the way she feels

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gUYS im PISSED i reached the chapter limit for drafts and i cant create a new one so this is the last steve oneshot for this book :(

also it's really cliche but i like cliche

so DEAL WITH IT

idek what this is but it sucks

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You'd think that because you were a superhero faced with so many obstacles and difficulties that seemed to hinder you from achieving your goals, you could handle seeing someone close to you in pain.

You were horribly wrong.

It was a rather strenuous mission that left the entire team mentally and physically exhausted, but despite your body screaming at you to lie down and get some rest, you couldn't seem to fall asleep that night.

Steve was in critical condition for three days after you returned, and it was your fault. If you had been more careful and kept better watch over him, your mission partner, he wouldn't have ended up with a dagger tearing through his shoulder and leaving a deep gash running down nearly half the length of his arm, and a bullet to his side that hit almost dangerously close to a vital organ. If you hadn't been so careless and reckless, he wouldn't have felt the need to be so overprotective and jump in front of you to save your life.

Every time you tried to close your eyes, you saw the same images flash by in the dark; of Steve clutching a hand to his stomach as blood seeped through the fabric of his uniform, blood everywhere, the obvious look of pain etched onto his face.

You let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the cold railing as you stood atop the steel platform of the Avengers Tower, gazing out at the beautiful city lights and the skyscrapers that pierced the flaming orange sky like needles. The sun's rays crested over the tops of the buildings, giving every surface it touched a hazy glow, before sinking lower and lower and dipping completely beneath the horizon and enveloping the world in a blanket of navy blue, almost completely black, darkness.

It was peaceful, watching dusk fall over New York City in silence by yourself. Even if it only lasted for several minutes, you enjoyed it nonetheless, grateful that it was your one chance of escape from a chaotic life.

So you were surprised and froze in panic when you felt someone's hand on the small of your back all of a sudden. They pulled you back and whirled you around, causing your face to bury into their muscular chest.

Steve's.

You glanced up to see him looking down at you with a fearful look on his face; his face that was so close to yours, mere inches keeping your lips from meeting his. Very little distance remained between the two of you and this caused your heartbeat to pick up speed, and he just held you like that for a few more seconds; his arm tightly wound around your waist, your eyes simply locked onto each others', neither one of you being able to speak.

"Why?" you finally managed to croak out, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. "Why did you have to do that? You could've died out there-"

"It wouldn't be right for me to simply stand by and not do anything," he replied simply, "if risking my life means you would live, then I'm willing to take that chance, and that's what I did. It's simply a matter of chance that I'm standing here right now."