Avengers Imagines (Part One)

Steve Rogers X Reader - Sweet But Psycho

A/N - This imagine is based on the song 'Sweet But Psycho' by Ava Max. I hope you all enjoy it.

Anyone can be rehabilitated. Everybody has the capacity to be good. There is no such thing as pure evil. Steve had believed his own words for a life time. He had helped so many people to become better, to do better. 

You, on the other hand, had little belief in the concepts of good and evil. Sure, you had done bad things, but you had done good things too. And who was to say that you were a bad person? Well, you could think of a few people who enjoyed telling you quite often, but they weren't the relevant ones.  

The news had been pretty fixed on calling you evil. It's not that you completely disagreed with them, either. You could be a little... naughty at times. Breaking rules was exhilarating. Power was seductive. And watching people looking oh-so-scared when you entered a room was that next-level of power. 

You'd had fun, terrorising New York whilst the Avengers were busy elsewhere dealing with international affairs rather than protecting their precious city. And you'd been getting away with it, for a while, until Captain America had marched in on one of your 'attacks'. That's what they had called them, attacks, as though they thought you were hurting their citizens. Not a single person had been injured in any of your power-trips, and yet, here he was, telling you that you were hurting the people of New York. You should have known to run, then and there, but something about the almighty Captain had caught your attention.

You had mistakenly thought that he would be easy to manipulate. That you could slip yourself into his mind and make him leave you be. But no. He'd already gotten you into those stupid fucking power-blocking cuffs and was resigned to taking  you away to the Avenger's facility for rehabilitation. 

"I didn't hurt anybody," you had murmured at him when he had finally released you into a cell, the cuffs still fixed around your wrists. 

"No?" 

"Not a soul."

"You were inside their heads," he told you, shaking his head when you pouted slightly, unwilling to listen to the lecture he was about to deliver. "Those people feel violated," he told you more firmly, "it's like if someone breaks into your home, you stop feeling safe in that place."

Your pout faded slightly, replaced with a real frown, your brow furrowing. "I never thought about it like that."

"Yeah? Well, your victims did." You shifted slightly on the spot, biting down on your lip as your mind began to reel. You had truly never known that you could have been hurting people. Never thought that there would be people out there who would continue to live in fear because of you. It was only supposed to be a little bit of harmless fun. "Look, you may as well get comfortable. I'll be back later." 

You glanced up at him slightly, and gave him a nod as you slumped down onto the hard bed against the wall of your cell. 

*Time Skip*

At some point, Steve had begun to feel sorry for you. He knew he wasn't supposed to, you were the bad guy, but something about your reaction to his words had endeared him to you. In all honesty, you seemed like a good enough person, a little lost maybe, but not evil, like the others he had met.  

You would give him a soft smile whenever he came to the door of your cell, and a little half-hearted wave. And after a while, he had started to look forward to meeting with you. 

You looked forward to seeing him too. Other than the woman who came to bring you your food, with her iron-willed glare and seemingly an inability to speak, Steve was the only person you got to see. The only one who would ever talk to you. You found yourself craving it, longing for him to come and spend time with you. 

"So," you told him one evening, pulling your leg up to tuck it under yourself as he watched you, "you are a definitively good person, right?" Steve remained quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed as he smile at you, attempting to figure out where your mind was going. "I mean. The world see's you as the incredible hero: saving people, doing the right thing. All that jazz." 

Steve nodded, "yeah, I guess you could say that."

"But you've killed people," you stated simply, face pinched as you thought, "and killing people is definitely not a moral thing to do."

"We don't kill good people."

"Aha," you stated suddenly, shifting again into a kneeling position as you began to smile. "But why do you get to decide whether someone is a good person or not?" 

Steve's brow furrowed as you smiled at him. "I-"

"I mean, to them, you're the bad guy and they're the hero, right?" 

"But what they're doing isn't right." Steve looked a little lost now, and you smile faded slightly.

You shrugged, "Who decides what's right and what's wrong?"

Steve released a deep sigh, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Well, I'd like to know, so you'd better figure it out." 

The utter seriousness of the look you gave him in that moment elicited a chuckle from him, causing the look to quickly shift into a wide smile.

"I promise I'll ask around for you, get some opinions," he chuckled, getting to his feet.

"You're going already?" When Steve glanced back at you, you were frowning, looking hurt by his sudden escape attempt. 

"I've got training tonight," he told you softly, "but i'll be back tomorrow."

You nodded slightly, your smile not quite managing to return. "Okay." 

"Hey, chin up, kid. We're getting somewhere with this. You'll be outta here in no time."

This time, you managed to smile properly, even though it felt a little awkward on your lips. "Thanks, Steve."

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