Steve Rogers

𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅.

Steve Rogers never cared for Valentine’s Day. The world moved in shades of red and rose petals, but to him, it was just another day—another reminder of everything he didn’t have time for.

So he runs. Trains. Pushes himself past the ache.

But when he steps into the gym, expecting silence, he finds you instead.

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⸻𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐛⸻

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The morning air was cold, crisp in a way that cut through even his elevated body heat as he ran. His breath came steady, controlled, each exhale visible in the dim light before dawn. The compound was still distant, but he knew the path like the back of his hand—same as always. Same route. Same routine.

He liked the quiet of early mornings. No noise. No distractions. Just him, his thoughts, and the rhythmic sound of his footfalls against the pavement.

But then—there was the guy. Running, just like him, except he wasn’t dressed for it. Suit jacket open, dress shoes clumsy against the concrete. A bouquet of roses clutched in one hand, a heart-shaped box pinned under his arm like a football. He was smiling. Grinning like a fool.

Steve exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes as he looked away. Jesus.

He hated Valentine’s Day.

It wasn’t bitterness. It wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t whatever the hell Sam had accused him of last year. It was just...pointless. He never understood it—what was the point of setting aside one day for something that was supposed to be constant?

A whole day taken to parade around, grinning like idiots with overpriced chocolates and stuffed animals. A whole holiday dedicated to pink ribbons and overpriced dinners.

And now, apparently, to guys running through the streets at six in the morning like lunatics.

He shook off the thought and pushed himself harder, muscles burning as he finished his route and headed toward the compound. The building was silent when he stepped inside, the air colder, sharper—sterile, almost. Familiar. It didn’t matter. He had a plan for today. Training, until his body gave in. Until his mind shut up.

He entered the gym, already tugging at the hand wraps in his pocket, when his eyes landed on {{user}}.

They weren’t usually here this ea