#Professor!Steve Rogers - One Shots

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

bonjour could I please request some beefy professor Steve Roger’s smut? 🫶🤤

Jealous Professor » Steve Rogers (AU)

Pairings: College Professor!Steve Rogers x College Student!Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets jealous when he sees you get a little too friendly with another professor.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is in her early 20s), dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, spanking, degrading, name calling (slut), pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Steve watched you from the doorway of his office, leaning against the door frame. You were talking to your Literature professor, Professor Barnes, about the homework. To Steve, it looked like you were flirting with his colleague. He didn’t like that and he was going to do something about it.

“Thank you, Professor Barnes! See you tomorrow!” You say, walking away.

Steve called out for you before you got any further down the hall. You turned around to see your History professor motioning you towards him.

“Yes, Professor Rogers?” You asked.

“I’d like to talk to you in my office.” Steve opens the door. “After you.” He says.

You walked in his office without questioning him. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Steve closed and locked the door behind him before taking a seat at his desk.

“Is this about my test?” You asked, worried that you got a bad grade on it.

“No. You got an excellent grade on it. That’s not why I called you in here.” He says.

“Oh ok.” You replied. “Why am I here?” You asked

Steve stood up from his desk chair and walked around his desk to where you’re sitting, leaning against the edge of his desk.

“I called you in here, because I didn’t like the way you were talking to Professor Barnes.” He says.

“I wasn’t disrespecting him if that’s what you’re thinking. I was just asking him a question about the homework he assigned.” You explained.

“That’s not what I meant.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt sleeves threatening to rip around his biceps. “You were getting a little too friendly with him.” He says.

“I was just being nice.” You say innocently.

“Being nice doesn’t involve flirting.” He says.

“Sir, I wasn’t flirting with him.” You answered honestly.

“Here’s the thing…” Steve pushed himself off the edge of his desk. “I’d believe you if you were acting so innocent.” He says.

“I’m not acting at all, sir. I swear.” You say in a pleading voice.

As you’re talking to him, Steve takes a moment to look at what you’re wearing. A short sleeve shirt that shows off your cleavage and a skirt that’s just long enough to cover your ass. He could tell what kind of bra you’re wearing. From what he can see, it looks like some kind of lacy design. It made him wander if you were wearing matching panties with it. He felt his cock grow hard the more he looked at your outfit.

“Stand up.” Steve orders.

You didn’t question him. You stood up and stood in front of him, waiting for further instructions. Steve watched as your hands smoothed out your skirt. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of your cleavage. He pushed himself off of the edge of his desk, getting closer to you.

Without warning or hesitation, Steve kissed you sloppily. Your eyes widened in surprise, catching you off guard. You didn’t pull away or push him away. Your hands grasped onto his button up shirt, clutching the material in your hands and pulled him closer to you.

You gasped when you felt his bulge against your lower stomach. Steve took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. He pulled away from your lips, leaving the two of you breathless. You looked in his eyes, his blue eyes now clouded with lust.

“Bend over my desk. Hands on top of it.” He instructs.

“Yes, Professor.” You replied submissively.

“Call me Steve, sweetheart.” He tells you.

“Yes, Steve.” You replied submissively again.

You bent over his desk, placing your hands on top of it like he told you to. Your ass was sticking out towards him. You looked over your shoulder at Steve to see him bunching your skirt up just above your ass so your panties were exposed to him. Just like he thought, you were wearing panties to match your bra. Lace panties to be exact. Same color and same design.

He hooked a finger in the waistband of your panties, pulling on them and letting go of it. A squeak left your lips when your waistband snapped against your skin. He then hooked his fingers in the waistband again and pulled them down, letting them pool around your ankles. Your ass and wet pussy are now exposed to him.

A small yelp left your lips when Steve smacked your ass. He then rubbed his fingers between your folds, getting them wet with your slick. He teasingly rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles. You wanted more. You backed yourself against his hand, but that earned you a smack on your ass.

“Be a good girl.” Steve says in a warning voice.

You pouted and looked over your shoulder at him. Steve slid two fingers in your pussy. A gasp fell from your lips. He moved his fingers in and out of you at a decent pace. Your mouth fell open, soft moans left your lips.

Steve’s free hand went underneath your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra. He gave them each a squeeze before sliding his hand inside of your bra. His fingers rubbed over your nipples and pinched them. A gasp left your lips and your pussy clenched around his fingers.

His hand left your shirt and unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He pulled his cock out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before taking his fingers out of your pussy, making you whine at the loss of the feeling of his fingers. That earned you another smack on your ass.

Steve took a step closer to you. He rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick. You moaned when his cock bumped your clit. He then lined his cock at your entrance and slid it inside of you, inch by inch. Your mouth fell open and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing along your wet walls as he slid it inside of you.

“So big…” You say more in a gasp.

“You can take it.” Steve gave your ass a gentle pat. “I bet you’re used to taking big cocks like mine.” He says.

When he was fully inside of you, he gave you a short moment before he started thrusting. His hands held onto your hips, bring you back with each thrust. Your hands scrambled to hold onto something. You grabbed onto the edge of the desk, digging your nails in the wood.

Steve moved your hair to the side and leaned forward, the front of his body against your back. He placed kisses along your neck. His teeth nipped on your skin hard enough for hickeys.

“I bet you like this, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve’s voice is husky. “I bet you’re loving the fact that you’re getting fucked by your professor.” He says.

“Mhmm, yes!” You answered more in a gasp.

“Was it your intention to make me jealous by talking to Professor Barnes?” He asks.

“No!” You replied in a moan. “I was- oh fuck! I was just talking to him. I swear!” You say.

Steve hummed to himself as he continued to fuck you. You were actually talking to Professor Barnes about the homework he assigned, but you were also flirting with him a little bit.

“Maybe I should call him in here.” He suggests.

You moaned at the thought of him doing exactly that.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckles. “Maybe you do want him to see you getting fucked like a little slut.” He says.

You got even more turned on when he called you a slut. You shouldn’t have, but you did. It was something about the way he said it that turned you on.

Steve put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you up straight so your back was against the front of his body. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head and your mouth fell open when you could feel his cock hitting all of the right spots at this angle.

Steve pulled your shirt up above your bra covered breasts. He then took your breasts out of your bra and held them in his hands. He gave both of them a squeeze, causing you to gasp loudly. One of his hands left one of your breasts to cover your mouth to keep you quiet.

“You gotta be quiet, honey. Don’t want anyone to hear us.” Steve said in your ear. “Or maybe you want Professor Barnes to hear us. Is that it?” He asks. “His office is right next door. Maybe I should pin you against the wall so he can hear the slutty little noises you make for me.” He says, chuckling a little bit.

You whined at his words. You reached your hands up, blindly feeling for his hair. You found his hair with ease and ran your fingers through it, tugging on it. Your back arched off of his body when his cock hit your sweet spot perfectly. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling.

“Right there!” You tell him, followed by a moan.

“Aww, did I find your little spot?” He asks in a cooing voice.

“Mhmm.” You hummed in response, unable to form any coherent words.

His cock hit your sweet spot again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You bit your bottom lip, moaning soft when you felt Steve’s beard against your skin when he placed kisses along your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You gasped when his teeth bit your skin hard enough for a hickey.

You were caught off guard when one of his hands went in between your legs and began rubbing your clit, moans leaving your lips. Your legs clamped around his hand. Steve’s free hand opened your legs by grabbing onto your thigh and spread your legs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” Steve says.

Steve wrapped his arm around your waist just below your breasts and fucked you harder. His cock hit your sweet spot perfectly almost every time. His hand that was on your thigh moved upwards to your clit and started rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock, sweetheart.” He says raspy in your ear.

His dirty words alone made you want to cum on the spot. You reached a hand down to his wrist and held on to it, keeping his hand there. Steve lightly chuckles in your ear and rubbed your clit faster. He moaned when your cunt clenched around his cock. That’s when your orgasm was beginning to build up.

“Professor-” A small squeak left your lips when Steve smacked your clit. “Steve!” You corrected yourself. “I’m getting close.” You tell him.

“I know you are, honey. I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock.” He says huskily.

A whine left your lips the more you felt your orgasm building up. Steve applied more pressure to your clit as he continued to rub it. Your legs began to tremble the more his fingers rubbed your clit and the faster he fucked you.

“Steve, I’m going to cum.” You whined. “Please let me cum.” You begged desperately.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for me… go ahead, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear, kissing just below your ear.

That sent you over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your bottom lip to keep your moans quieter when you came. Steve gave your clit one last rub to help you ride out your orgasm before focusing on his own orgasm. He wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusts became sloppy the closer he got to his orgasm. He bit down on your neck to muffle his moans when he came inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

His thrusts came to a slow stop and left his cock inside of you while the two of you stood there and caught your breath. Your legs were a little bit wobbly and Steve wrapped one of his arms around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from falling. After a moment, Steve pulled his cock out of you, making you whine at the loss of contact of his cock. He cleaned the two of you up with tissues before you guys readjusted your clothes.

As you were about to pick up your bag, Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, kissing you passionately. You moaned against his lips. You picked up your bag when he let go of you. You were met by Professor Barnes when you opened the door. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and Bucky smirked to himself when he seen the marks Steve left on your neck.

“See you in class tomorrow, sweetheart.” Steve says to you and smacked your ass before you walked out of his office.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[holylulusworld]

Professor!Steve Rogers - One Shots

Masterlist for all Professor!Steve Rogers drabbles/one-shots  

Contains: 💔 angst // 💕 fluff // 💦 smut // 🖤 light smut // 🤍 implied smut

History at its best 💦💕

Read more here: Steve Rogers masterlist

Divider by me *for my blog use only*

[sceletaflores]

— MARVEL M.LIST

all works are 18+ MDNI!

LOGAN HOWLETT

— SERIES

to the bone universe

|| a love story told through red splatter marks.

— ONE SHOTS

↬ HEAVY METAL LOVER!

|| the wolverine is a regular at your bar…

↬ all’s fair in love and viscera…

|| logan wants to spar…

↬ come on and show me a little bit of spine!

|| five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

↬ woo, my baby’s got me all mixed up! feat. wade wilson

|| wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

↬ couldn't help it, i had to kiss the teacher!

|| professor logan has a special way of helping you retain information...

↬ slippin' and slidin' all over you!

|| logan forgot to fix the ac...

↬ it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

|| it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

↬ ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!

|| you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...

↬ soft and serene (let me feel you on my lips)

|| logan's not a virgin by any means, but he's still wearing white...

↬ I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

|| it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

↬ he's a good time, cowboy casanova!

|| a cowboy and the governor's daughter walk into a barn...

↬ come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

|| you can't sleep, logan leaves his door open...

↬ SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

|| you notice a strange shift in logan…

— DRABBLES

wall sex w. logan

cockwarming w. logan

getting off w. logan's flannel

WADE WILSON

— ONE SHOTS

↬ woo, my baby’s got me all mixed up! feat. logan howlett

|| wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

STEVE ROGERS

coming soon…

© sceletaflores 2024 - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Week 2 - Outsider POV

Hi, friends! This week our theme is Outsider POV. It’s a favorite way of mine to read about our boys because we see things that they maybe don’t see, and it’s full of confusion and miscommunications, and it’s just--a lot of fun. So here are some of my favorite. What is your favorite Outside POV fic? 

~ 

OUTSIDER POV 

Fair Shot by isozyme

Captain Rogers leaps from the helicopter like a gymnast on the dismount. All the lines of his body are controlled. Perfect. The iconic round shield lies flat across his back.

“How does he fit a parachute under that?” I ask.

“He doesn’t,” Stark answers. “Marvelous adrenaline junkie, our Cap. Likes to almost break his ankles every time. Makes him feel like a man.”

Front Line reporter Ben Urich spends a mission embedded with Tony Stark and Captain Steve Rogers on an Ultimates mission.

(lack of) dignity by Areiton 

It’s just--it’s a thing. 

The other Avengers shout at them for it, but it’s humiliating, to be beaten into submission while Cap tries to get a date. 

maybe they are by Areiton 

“Maybe they fucked and Stark broke his heart,” Teddy says, watching Stark standing next to a table full of grad students, talking animatedly, waving his coffee as Rogers dodged by, giving him a dirty look.

Or

That professors fic I've been promising to write.

on the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster 

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

to the point of invention by meidui

Tony Stark does an interview, his first public media appearance in two years, and the interviewer wants to know where he gets his inspiration from these days.

He smiles a little, not at the camera and barely even at the interviewer, and then says, "I've got this friend. He's pretty accident-prone. I guess that's my inspiration."

No Slip of the Tongue by deervsheadlights

Many a thing was said of Lord Anthony Stark, Ruler of the Far Lands of Mar'vill, and many did not hold true. Fewer things were said of the Lord's Captain of Guard, but as it was, Sir Steven Rogers had never been a man for wearing his heart on his sleeve.

(Or: Five times somebody else told a tale of the Lord and his knight, and one time they told their own.)

5 Times Bucky Thought Tony Was Good For Steve +1 Time He Told Him by Anonymous

To say Bucky is unimpressed by Stark would be an understatement.

It isn’t that he dislikes him. It’s more that he’s a brand of indifferent that curdles with disdain on the rare occasion that Bucky catches him on the TV: Stark is glib and crass in a way his father never was, and he wears suits like he’d slipped out of the womb clad in Armani.

So it’s a surprise when Bucky moves into the Tower and finds that Steve actually gets along with the guy.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower - College

The Tower: College - One Shot

Series Masterlist

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2867

Warnings:  none

Synopsis:  Riley and Pietro are both preparing for college. Their parents all have ideas about where they should go.

Author’s Note: This is not a request but rather the first co-written piece with @fanficwriter013 since The Queen of Asgard. I do still have some requests to write and you can still send in your requests.

College

Set between The Queen of Asgard and Family

Nothing ever really prepares you to parent a teenager.  You can have all the love and all the money in the world and you’ll still feel blindsided by the challenges thrown up.  You’ll need to comfort them through fights with friends, drive them to extracurricular activities you’d never even thought of, grit your teeth while they date people you don’t like, and try to keep it together as their hormones go wild.  We’d been learning on the job and sometimes we struggled, but we were blessed with loving and affectionate kids, and we all wanted the absolute best for them.

We crossed each hurdle as we came to them, sometimes stumbling but always getting up and always supporting each other and them as we did.

Riley and Pietro were about to start applying to colleges, and we were helping them decide which ones they’d most like to attend.

Of course, Tony wanted them both to attend M.I.T.  He was very vocal about it.  Neither was particularly techy, but they humored him when he organized a private tour for them.  Riley, Pietro, Tony, Clint, Nat, Bruce, and I went to Boston to look around campus.

We spent the morning looking at lecture theaters and labs.  This afternoon we’d talk to professors about courses, majors, and what they’d need to get in.  For now, we were taking a break at a taco place just off campus.

When we were all seated with our chips, guac, and drinks, (I’d gotten a Paloma which I’d never had before and was already really enjoying) Tony looked at the kids.

“So?  What do we think so far? It’s good, huh?” he said. “There’s a lot of great stuff. There’s a study space that gives out free bananas.  How can you complain about that?”

"Bananas aren't a selling point," Clint said, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Dad, bananas sound good," Pietro said. "They're a good brain food."

"I think I'd like to see some other schools. Don't want to put all my eggs in one basket" Riley said, picking at her order of tacos.

“I mean, I’d also say that we can afford to buy bananas if we wanted them,” I added.  “That is not a thing that is outside our budget.”

Riley smothered laughter and Pietro shook his head.

“It’s more the principle of the thing,” Tony said.  “They care about their students and provide them with a calm study area with free brain food.”

“I think the main thing here is if they can study what they want to study, Tony,” I said, taking his hand.  “We’ll speak to the professors and figure it out.”

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.  We’ll see other schools.”

“We’re taking it all in though, Dad,” Riley assured him. “We just want to know what all our options are.”

"Yeah, Tony. All the options." Clint said, wagging a taco around in front of him.

"It's okay Tony. They'll figure out what they want. I'm sure MIT is a top contender out of the schools so far," Bruce said.  "Maybe they'd like my alma mater,” he added quietly.

"It's on the list, Dad, don't worry," Riley said. "We've even got clown college on the list for Papa Clint," she joked.

“Maybe they’d like to go to school at UCLA,” I added.  “That’s where I went.”

Riley’s eyes lit up. “Living in LA would be amazing!”

“No!” Tony said, quickly. “No way.  Nope.  You’re not going all the way across the country for college when all the good ones are over this side anyway.”

“And here I was thinking that I’d apply for Oxford,” Riley teased.

“Wash your mouth out with soap,” Tony said, pointing a fork filled with sizzling beef at his daughter.

She broke down into hysterical giggles and choked on her taco.  I reached over and patted her on the back as she grabbed her drink and tried to wash the food down.

“Well, there’s always Columbia.  That’s where I got my first job and it’s where I met your mama,” I said.

"Yeah, Columbia is an acceptable school," Nat said. "There aren't many that I approve of."

"Hey, I'd be happy with clown school if that's what you wanted," Clint said around a mouthful of tacos.

"I mean, Pietro did go through a magic phase," Bruce said.

“Oh yeah, the guy who has nightmares of clowns would be happy if his kids became clowns,” I teased.  “But yes, I agree, the most important thing is that you guys are happy.  Right, Tony?”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Yes.  The most important thing is that you’re both happy.”

“Gee thanks, Dad,” Riley teased.

“We are happy, mom.  And we’re happy to look at all your alma maters,” Pietro said.  “We’ll pick the best ones for us.  I promise.”

"Guess it's up to me to start planning all the visitations," Tony said, pulling out his phone. "All the alma maters, all the Ivy leagues. Anywhere else?" he asked.

Both Pietro and Riley had ideas of what they wanted to do with their lives.  In fact, what they really wanted to do was go to Asgard to learn about life there, as Riley was the heir to the throne.  There was plenty of time for that though.  They were both young even by mortal years, and Riley was no mortal.

Riley took after her biological father in a lot of ways.  She’d been offered athletic scholarships at several schools but there was a lot of debate about the ethicality of supers competing on sports teams.  Some schools had made leagues just for them.  She’d turned them down just to avoid the controversy.  She’d decided she wanted to learn political science.  She hoped it might help for her time as Queen.

Pietro, our little empath, was tossing up between art and psychology.  Much to Tony’s chagrin, that meant that Stanford was the top choice for both kids, and we did take a trip over to San Francisco to do a tour.  We also did Berkley while there, which was Pietro’s second choice and Riley’s fourth.  We did Harvard which Tony was a little more happy about due to being much closer.  Harvard was Riley’s number two, and Piet’s number three.  We did both Princeton and Yale, but both kids agreed that if they ended up at either of them, it was just because it was the only yes they got, and yeses weren’t as hard to get when you had money and brains, something the twins were both blessed with.  Finally, they checked out Grayburn College in Harlem because of Bruce, though everyone was a little worried about how Bruce’s legacy might end up affecting their time there, and Columbia for me.  Columbia was still fairly high up for both their subjects and had the benefit of being close to us.

We strolled along the campus, toward the library after having been taken around the law buildings and the psychology one.  Today it was me, Riley, Pietro, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Tommy.  Tommy had not wanted to miss out on whatever fun his oldest siblings were having, but it was pretty obvious that he had big regrets about coming.  He was hanging off Tony’s arm and whining quite a bit.

I stopped on the lawn in front of the library and looked at my assembled family. “We can go in in a second.  But this spot here is very important.  You know why?”

Natasha smirked and moved in close, wrapping her arm around my waist.  “This is where your mother ran straight into me and we both went flying.”

“Oh my god, Mom,” Riley groaned, hiding her face.

"Yeah, it was on that day that your Ma almost killed your mother," Clint joked.

"And obviously the rest is history," Steve said.

"Yeah that's how we got you guys," Tony said, ruffling Tommy's hair.

“Yuck, Dad,” Riley said. “He’s too young to hear things like that.”

“Hear what?” Tommy asked.

“About how moms and dads are always smooching and making babies,” Pietro teased.

Tommy dramatically threw his head back.  “Eww…” he groaned and we all burst out laughing.

“Do you want to check out the library?” I asked, pointing to the building.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Pietro agreed.

I led the way into the library.  I felt good.  The kids both seemed to like the University.  I wasn’t sure they’d pick Columbia, but it seemed like it was on the list.  Besides it was nice getting to be back on campus, it was a very special spot for me.

When the kids had checked out all the different university campuses and spoken to all kinds of people about the pros and cons of each school, they had put in their applications.  They both had their preferences.  Pietro wanted to stay close so even though Stanford was the better school for what he wanted to study, he picked Columbia as his first choice.  I was delighted to have one of the kids attending the school I’d worked at.  Especially given it was the place where I first met Natasha.  It felt like fate.

Riley was never going to be happy with just that though.  She wanted adventure more than she wanted an education.  I think if she’d thought about it in any real way, she might even push to go to college overseas and I was sure that if the option ever came up to do an exchange, she’d jump at it.  In the meantime, her top choice was Stanford - the top college for her chosen field and as far from us as she could get while still in the continental United States.

We weren’t too worried about them not getting in.  They were both smart kids and also - cards on the table - we were very rich.  An unfair privilege of being rich is that money can open doors that aren’t always open to everyone else.  It wasn’t an absolute definite, but with the two things together we were all confident they’d both be celebrating their acceptance into their chosen schools.

They had agreed to wait to log in and check their offers until we were all around.  It was killing them, especially Riley.  On the day, Tony had gotten out the champagne and had the cooks making their favorite meals. 

The twins sat at their laptops, fingers hovering over the enter keys as we gathered around them. 

“Are you all ready?” Pietro asked.  

"Oh my God. This is killing me!" Clint said, tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. 

"We know they're going to get in, you shouldn't be surprised," Nat said, patting Clint on the shoulder.

"But the suspense. You know I can't do the waiting," Clint whined. "Let's go."

The twins hit the buttons symultaneously, and for a moment the room was silent while they read the letters from their top choices.  At almost the exact same time, they jumped up.  Riley squealed with delight, a noise I don’t think I’d heard from her since she was little, while Pietro whooped and pumped his fist in the air.

“I’m going to Stanford!” Riley yelled.  “I’m going to Stanford!”

“I’m into Columbia!” Pietro added.

We all moved in, hugging them both.  “Yes!  Congratulations!” I said as I tried hugging both kids at once.

"One at a time, El," Nat said, hugging Riley.

"You both did it," Clint said.  “You got the schools you wanted. I'm so proud of you."

"This is great," Bruce said, nodding his head.

Tony got up and clapped his hands. “Mocktails,” he said.  “And food. It’s a party.”

I went with him to the bar and pulled out the mixers to make mocktails with.

“Can we get Ethiopian?” Riley called.

“No!  Pizza!” Pietro argued.

“We haven’t done a huge international feast for a while,” I said.  “We should do that.  Just order some of everything, like in the pre-kid days.”

“You used to have international feasts?”  Riley asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said. “We just ordered takeout from a dozen places.  We haven’t done that since we moved out to the compound.  We couldn’t get food delivered there, and when we moved back here, we just started eating the same thing.”

“Can we all pick what we want?” Billy asked.

“Yeah of course.  We’ll all order our favorite foods and then share them all,” Tony said.

The younger kids squealed excitedly and started jumping around.  “I’m gonna get pancakes,” Tommy yelled.  He ran over to Tony and slammed into him, hugging him around the waist and looking up at him.  “Can we get the choc-chip cheesecake pancakes from the Pancake Hut?”

Tony smoothed Tommy’s red hair back and squished his cheek.  “Of course you can.”

“Okay everyone,” Steve said.  “Let’s look at the apps and see what we can find.”

This was our biggest food order yet.  It took a lot to feed this family.  There were eighteen of us, and several had super-human appetites, but when we all ordered the same thing, we didn’t over-order.  This time we did.  It was like we were catering a party where we all wanted to share.  It would be eaten, Bruce alone could finish what the rest of us couldn’t, but it was still a shocking amount of food with an even more shocking bill.

Along with several stacks of various pancakes, a large platter of Ethiopian food, and a half dozen pizzas from Ray’s, we got eight different Indian Curries, a huge selection of Chinese dishes, sushi, fried chicken (Lousianna, Nashville, and Korean style), Korean toast, corn dogs, and tteokbokki, Brazilian, several dishes from the Cheese Cake Factory for some reason, a selection of things from Katz’s, several kinds of pasta including a three cheese gnocchi, fettuccine carbonara, and eggplant parmigiana, two different cheese fondues, two different hot pots, and a variety of dishes from an organic vegan place.

It was a lot and it didn’t fit on our table even in its fully extended state, and we had to bring up some tables and put them around the long table where we all sat.

The younger kids were so excited about all the different things they could try, and I was genuinely worried they would make themselves sick.  They couldn’t even sit still because if they were sitting, they weren’t trying anything new.  Tommy was a blur as he ran around and around the table nibbling at everything he could reach.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said.  “Let’s all take a seat.”

“This is a big special celebration,” Sam echoed.  “You’re gonna need to listen to a Steve dad speech.”

“No…” all the kids whined at once.

“Oh yes,” Natasha said.  “You know how it works.”

“Fine,” Riley said.  “Go on then, Dad.”

“Wow, thank you for the enthusiasm,” Steve joked.

“I love your speeches, Daddy,” Rose said, smiling at him.

“Suck up!” Sarah teased.

“Okay, okay, settle down everyone,” Steve said.

“Yeah, this is serious,” Clint teased.

Steve huffed and shook his head.  “Riley, Pietro, you two were such a blessing for us. I think we were all a little directionless before you came around.  We all had plenty of things we’d die for, but not so many to live for.  You give us that.  And I do realize that’s a lot to put on some kids, I hope you both haven’t felt that pressure growing up.  Suffice it to say, we all adore you and we have been thankful every day since you were both born.

“I know that us being your parents hasn’t always been easy.  You’ve had to grow up in the spotlight not just because we’re who we are, but because of how many of us there are.  I hope we did alright and didn’t mess you up too much.  I can tell you this for sure, we all love you so much and we are so proud of you,” he said.  “This is such a big turning point for you both.  You’re not our little kids anymore.  You’re adults.  You’re taking your first real steps into the world.  This is big.  You’re going to have the whole world's eyes on you.  And I can tell you that doesn’t matter.  It certainly doesn’t matter to us.  But I also know that that kind of pressure can affect you.  I want you both to know; you can never let us down, we always have your back, and we know you’ll do amazing.  We trust you.  We love you.  Congratulations.”

Riley and Pietro got up and came over to hug him, and Steve engulfed them both in his broad arms - quite the task considering they were both as tall as he was.

“Thank you, Dad,” Pietro said.

“See how much your kids love you,” Tony said. “They didn’t even say anything about how rambling you got on that one.”

Steve laughed. “Oh shush,” he said.  “You do better.”

Tony held up his hands in surrender.  “I would never,” he said.  “Come on everyone.  This is a party.  Let’s celebrate!”

With that, the lights dimmed and music started to play, and we spent the night celebrating the next big step in our oldest children’s lives.

~END~

[xoxobuckybarnes]

February 2024 Stucky Fics

Completed

Keystrokes and Music Notes (Rated: M, Words: 32K) by goblininawig / @goblininawig

Summary: Bucky is paying Steve for help tracking down his stalker. Nothing happens until something happens: Steve falls in love.

Mr. Brick Wall & Mr. Overshare (Rated: T, Words: 7K) by LilyElk13

Summary: Based on the Tumblr post that's like "half of college professors are like 'you can know nothing about me except my name' and the other half are like 'and that's why my wife left me! anyway what's up with y'all'" and the response "There were two professors like this in my department and I was one of like 20 people who was taught by both of them so there was a very small gang of us who knew that Professor Brick Wall and Professor Overshare were married with two kids." except in this it's high school teachers instead of college :)

A Company Man (Rated: E, Words: 75K) by mambo / @whtaft

Summary: It’s the way that Bucky smiles at Steve from across his desk. No, it’s the way that Bucky’s hand brushes Steve’s as they stand side by side in an elevator not crowded enough to justify their closeness. Or maybe it’s the whispered conversations every Saturday night, the way Bucky saves Steve’s number under a different name in his phone. No matter what it is, the truth is the same: Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, a married man.

Rock You Like a Hurricane (Rated: E, Words: 112K) by CelticCross

Summary: Bucky Barnes is an author, he's written many books in his Winter Soldier series, starring Lloyd Hansen and Nick Fowler. He hasn't written a word worth writing in the past three months and his agent, Sam Wilson, forces him to take a break. Sam books him a rental beach house in a place called Plum Cove in Mass for three months, hoping to break him out of his writer's block. The owner, Steve Rogers, retired Plum Cove Police Captain, landlord and part time surfer is surprised to get such a lengthy off season booking but takes it anyway. He doesn't expect to spend a lot of time with the person renting his house, but then he wasn't expecting the storm to be that fierce.

Closing Time (Rated: M, Words: 10K) by RecoveringTheSatellites / @thisonesatellite & art by maichan /@maichan808

Summary: Steve works in a Brooklyn dive bar. A tall, guarded guy comes in to drink at regular intervals. He always sits in the back corner. Steve leaves him alone. He looks like a guy who deserves some peace and quiet. He does find out the stranger's name is Bucky. Finds out what he likes to drink. And little by little, conversation happens. Connection happens. Until one day a cock-flock of dudebros comes in (i made up cock-flock, but really, is that not their collective term) and the heckling goes up to eleven once they’re good and drunk. Bucky gets asked to take it outside. Steve will have none of that, thankyouverymuch. . A tale of love and hope in unlikely places, sprinkled with a bit of PTSD, and the occasional sarcastic quip.

Use Your Agency (Rated: E, Words: 15K) by romanticalgirl

Summary: Bucky is given the assignment (punishment) of being the agent whose job it is to integrate the newly-thawed Captain America into life in a new century. Only maybe it's not so bad. Because Bucky ends up dealing with Steve Rogers, who is nothing like the Captain America in Bucky's history books. From coming out of the ice through AoU.

Stay with Me (Rated: E, Words: 79K) by maikurosaki / @allegra-dreams

Summary: When Bucky Barnes accompanies his family to a ceremony dedicated to George Barnes' activity, he expects free food and drinks, the occasional boring speech, and watching his dad blush furiously as he gets to finally meet his childhood hero. What he doesn't expect is saving Captain America's life and getting shot in the process. What follows is a slow road to recovery, eating hospital food (still disgusting), making new friends (Avengers!!! Seriously, the Avengers!) and pining over Captain America (he won't comment on that). It sounds simple, but it really isn’t!

The Steadfast Soldier (Rated: E, Words: 12K) by danielosbourne

Summary: Bucky returns to Brooklyn to help his sister navigate a family crisis.

twelve twenty-five (Rated: E, Words: 43K) by burning_brighter / @burnin-brighter

Summary: “I have to say,” Winifred says, a mug of cocoa in her hands. “When you say you were bringing someone home, I thought you meant you were bringing a boyfriend. But I’m glad you brought Steve.” “Who says I’m not?” Bucky teases, laughing when Steve lets out an exasperated groan. “You two finally got your respective head out of your respective ass?” asks George, looking at Steve and Bucky intently. “No,” Steve says pointedly, “Bucky just thinks he’s so funny.” - Ever since they met, everyone assumed it was just a matter of time before Steve and Bucky became a thing. Ten years later and it has yet to happen. But when Bucky invites Steve to spend the holidays with him and his family in upstate New York, things start to change.

WIP

Every Me and Every You (Rated: M, Current Words: 38K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best. He’s getting by after the blip, after Sam became Captain America, after Steve…well, it’s best he doesn’t think about that. The point is, his life is different now, and he’s trying his best. He just wishes the hollow feeling in his chest would go away.—–Bucky gets blinded by a bright light as the tear seems to implode in on itself and there’s an odd little jolt as the pulling stops, and then Bucky’s blinking, trying to get his vision right again as he loosens his grip on America.“You okay?” he checks, still squinting. He’s probably not blind, he thinks. It just feels like it right now.“I’m okay,” America tells him and he sees her nod shakily as his vision starts to clear, and he carefully lets go of her, seeing that she can support herself, hands pressing onto the floor next to her.“Uh…I don’t think I am,” says another voice, and Bucky turns his head so fast he might give himself whiplash. Because he knows that voice. He knows that voice better than any other voice on the planet and he’s missed that voice, so, so much.

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 103K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 43 – ENEMIES TO LOVERS

(First Impressions Are) A Work in Progress by ras_elased

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 15,195 Tags: Metaphorical Pigtail-Pulling, Getting Together, Wholesome Steve

Summary: Tony has a point system for the times he can get Steve to be less than perfect.

Reasons why I love it: To me, this fic is one of the corner stones of the Stony fandom. It's one of the first fics that got me into this pairing, so it holds a very special place in my heart. I can quote parts of it from memory, it's that good. So if you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and get right on it. I promise you'll love it just as much as I do.

Citation Needed by elwenyere, FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 30,570 Tags: College AU, Professors Steve and Tony, History Mystery

Summary: Historian Tony Stark has one year to get his book about WWII weapons technology under contract before he goes up for Full Professor at Stanley College. There's only one chapter left to finish, which is supposed to explain Peggy Carter's involvement with something called "Project Rebirth," but there are two problems: his trail of evidence goes cold every time he encounters references to an enigmatic soldier named Steven Rogers, and his stress levels shoot through the roof every time he runs into the endlessly frustrating new hire in Fine Arts, Dr. Grant.

Reasons why I love it: I was following along as this story was posted, and each new update was the highlight of week, every time. The plot is so intricate and well thought out that it feels almost like a murder mystery, and I absolutely adore the ending. This fic is incredible, and you should definitely read it, if you haven't already!

the girl with the modern face by isozyme

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 26,881 Tags: Crossdressing, Internalized Homophobia, Lingerie

Summary: “Nice to meet you.  I’m Steve Rogers,” Steve said, sticking his hand out and trying to wrestle the interaction back into something normal. “I know, sweetheart,” Tony said, ignoring his hand.  “Rescue told me all about you.” “Did you make her?” Steve asked.  It had been implied that Tony was a tech-man, and she said he was her boss.  It would fit together. “Yes, the armor, that was me; she’s my bodyguard,” Tony said archly.  “Impressed?” The only good thing about the future is Tony Stark's bodyguard, Rescue. She's beautiful in her red and gold armor, and Steve will never know who she is.

Reasons why I love it: As always, isozyme's grasp on the prejudices Steve might have due to his background is impeccable. Also, Tony crossdressing as Rescue is such a kickass concept that I wish I'd thought of it myself. The characterizations and dialogues are perfect all the way through, and I especially love the character development in Steve. This fic is one of my favorites, so I really hope you give it a shot!

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23), mentions of abortion

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, the United States is overtaken by religious fanatics, and Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival. When he's discovered to be fertile, he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter III. Freedom to

Story Masterlist

Before:

First, the president and the ranking fifteen closest in command are assassinated. There’s an explosion that nobody can trace, and just like that, the whole cabinet goes.

Bucky’s halfway through his Wednesday physics lecture when the professor stops what she’s doing and grabs the remote. The tv gets turned on and the one hundred and twelve freshmen in the lecture hall watch it play out on the news with a sense of surrealism.

NYU winds up suspending all classes, and Bucky takes the train home to spend time with his parents. George and Winnie put him up in his old room, which they haven’t yet bothered to empty out. There’s still a poster of Nine Inch Nails on the back of the door from Bucky’s alternative phase. Becca, Trudy and Clair come home within the following week, and the house is just as cramped as it ever was.

That’s how he finds himself at home when the news breaks that Congress has been eliminated. Eliminated, that’s the word they use. Not an assassination. Now it’s a terrorist attack, and the martial law that’s been in place since two weeks ago has everyone in their homes by sundown. But there are already guardians patrolling the neighborhood streets as if they’re the ones in charge.

Bucky gets a text from his bank, notifying him that his accounts have been frozen and will be transferred to his Alpha spouse or next of kin. He's still what-the-fucking that with his sisters when his mom steps out of the room to go call his dad and urge him to come home early from work. All their phones start shrieking with emergency alerts, telling them to shelter in place, that people on the street could be shot.

In the next few hours, Bucky's father comes home, looking wan and disturbed. Bucky can't get him to give a straight answer on what he saw out there to make him so upset, but the occasional pops of gunfire and revving vehicles outside are a hint. Bucky keeps getting text messages from his bank, from the University. When he tries to log into his accounts, he's blocked, and repeat text messages are triggered to his phone.

Becca, Trudy, and Clair are beta: they don't get any text messages.

His mom and dad come back into the living room and join Bucky and his sisters in sitting on the couch and watching the tv. Within hours, the news programs stop broadcasting. The tv shows only static. Within days, the missing news programs are replaced with just one: a state news channel.

The new broadcasts are bare-boned, but they are very informative. The anchor who used to do the six o’clock news comes on for her slot. She sits poised behind the news desk, making no comment for a long minute. There’s sweat visibly beading on her brow, but it’s obvious that she’s trying hard to maintain her composure while sitting in front of the large banner they’ve set as a backdrop. It's a symbol Bucky recognizes from a Christian nationalist group that's been in the news these past few years. "That's ... that's the Sons of Jacob flag," he says.

"Sons of what?"

"Holy rollers," he breathes, dread welling in his stomach. "They have a chapter on campus."

“Good evening,” the news anchor says, when someone or something offscreen prompts her. Her hands clasp tightly atop the desk and she begins cheerfully reading off the news: "As of six p.m. eastern time today, security in the capital has been declared restored," she announces. "The worst of the fighting is suppressed, and recovery efforts are being prepared for deployment in all major cities north of the Knoxville-Raleigh line. In Washington D.C., the government is reported to be secured and solidly in place."

"Oh, thank goodness," Winnie says, but Bucky is frowning at the tv and shaking his head.

"I don't think they mean the US government, mom."

"What?"

"Insurgent forces have suffered devastating defeats, and have been pushed back beyond the North Carolina-Tennessee border. Reports of smaller insurgent camps located in the Pennsylvania mountains are unsubstantiated at this point, but government officials are warning civilians in the Allegany Mountain range to avoid travel. An extended shelter in place order is expected to remain in place for the region."

Bucky looks worriedly to his mother, because he’s not stupid. The newscaster lady looks almost exactly the same as she always had before, only now there's an odd enthusiasm radiating from her; a sort of glassy-eyed, desperate-to-be-believed look that doesn't sit well with Bucky. It doesn’t take him long to learn what that look is, or what it means.

It’s fear. And it means that he should be afraid too.

After:

“Ofsteven, good afternoon.”

Bucky looks up from his seat at the window. Today is the third day in a row that he’s sat there, time spent mostly staring out at the back yard. There’s a black guy who wears beta blue and tends to the flowers and bushes out there. Sam. Bucky's been wondering if he might go down and poke around the little greenhouse that's attached to the kitchen, or if he'd be chastised for getting in the way.

But now Commander Rogers is standing awkwardly in the doorway to his little room, and Bucky snaps to attention. It's odd, hearing himself referred to by this new name. Up until not too long ago, he was called Ofwarren. Then at the red center, it'd been back to James, and now it's back to the goddamn patronymic. “Commander,” he says respectfully. "Blessed day."

The Commander gives him a tight sort of smile. “Blessed day." He steps a little farther into the room. "You can call me Steve,” he offers. "If you want."

"What?" Bucky shifts uncomfortably, realizes that he's not joking. “But ... That’s not allowed."

“I run my household a little differently, you’ll find,” Steve says. “Commander is ..." he makes a face. "It's very formal. I’d prefer it if you called me Steve. Especially since we’ll, erm ... you know. Be getting to know one another better.”

In another life, Bucky would’ve blushed, but he’s been indoctrinated in some ways whether he’d like to admit it or not. He’s used to his role as an object by now. “Okay,” he agrees quietly. "Fine."

He doesn’t want to seem too eager to be breaking the rules, since this could just be Commander Rogers’ way of tricking him, of sussing him out. There are true Believers who get their kicks that way, and vessels like Bucky are already known for rule breaking, criminally sentenced to their roles as broodmares for the state. Steve might just be trying to lure him into a false sense of comfortability by feigning friendliness. Commander Putnam had been that way. The bottoms of Bucky’s feet have scars from his misplaced trust in years past, and he isn’t keen on earning more.

“You can call me Bucky if you want,” he reluctantly offers.

Steve nods, brightening a bit. “Okay. Bucky it is." His mouth quirks and he tilts his head. "I take it that's a nickname of some sort?"

"Yeah. My one sister started it, back when she couldn't pronounce my middle name." He shrugs. "It's what my family called me."

Steve smiles, encouraged. "Are any of them still around?”

“No.”

He's surprised yet again, when Steve makes it clear he's going to join him for lunch.

Bucky'd thought commanders like Steve were too busy to take meals outside their offices. Even now, nearly four years after the institution of biblical law, there's still a lot of work to do: insurgencies to hunt, population crises to handle, people to surveil, torture, maim. Kill. The restructuring of the country is still in its infancy, and just because the iron fist of fascism has closed firmly around their necks doesn't mean there's ever a shortage of work to be done.

Bucky doesn't yet know what Commander Rogers' specific role is, in this brave new nation of theirs, but so far, every Commander that he's encountered has held an instrumental position. He tries to remember that, when his first instinct is to trust Steve's surface-level kindness. Steve isn't like him. He caused this. He wanted this.

Steve leads them downstairs, down to the conservatory that connects the kitchen to the greenhouse. It's set up as an informal dining room, and Bucky’s taken aback when, after placing a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches onto the table for the Commander and Bucky, the Martha named Sharon puts out four other place settings. Shortly thereafter, Sharon and the redheaded servant—Natasha, Bucky learns, and the gardener and the driver (Sam and Clint) join the table as well.

They eat in relative silence, and Bucky spends the meal sneaking surreptitious glances around at everybody. They’re all eating together as if they're equals, when Bucky knows they very much are not. Gender roles have been staunchly enforced in the past four years, and it's become a rare sight indeed, to have alphas, betas, and omegas interacting together all at once.

Steve is sitting at the head of the table, and it comes as a shock when he says, “So how has everyone’s morning been?”

Bucky keeps his eyes on his sandwich, sure that he’s not expected to answer. Natasha is the first one who speaks, saying, “Pretty good. Got the vacuuming done."

"Upstairs, or downstairs?" Steve asks pointedly.

"Downstairs. Upstairs isn't ready yet."

"Dammit," Steve grunts.

"All the laundry's done.” Natasha glances reproachfully at Sam. “Unless somebody makes an awful mess of his clothes going forward. Blood isn't exactly easy to get out, you know.”

Sam chuckles. “I have a dirty job, sue me.” He looks pointedly at Steve. "I got the hedges done."

"Did that go smoothly?" Steve asks without looking up from his soup. Bucky frowns, wondering how trimming the hedges could go wrong.

"There were a few dead spots, but they came off without a hitch."

"Disposed of?" Steve asks.

"Yep. Threw 'em in the burn pit."

Steve nods in somber approval. "Good riddance."

Jeez, Bucky thinks, these people take lawn maintenance very seriously. He realizes after a beat that his mouth is gaping a little, and he snaps it shut. This is the first time in nearly four years that he’s observed alphas, betas and omegas speaking so freely with one another, acting like equals. It’s almost like before. The thought puts an ache in his chest, which he quickly squashes.

“How about you Bucky?”

His eyes shoot up to find Steve and everyone else at the table regarding him. He quickly swallows the bite of sandwich in his mouth to answer, “Um, I’ve been okay. Just ... been in my room.” The answer is so dull that it almost makes him feel embarrassed. Even now, when the highlights of other people’s days are as tedious as laundry and gardening, Bucky himself has nothing to offer in the way of conversation. He doesn’t dare complain, though. There are worse things than being bored.

“You must be getting bored up there in your room,” Steve observes.

“Um …”

“I have a modest library in my office. If you like, you can poke around and find something that interests you.”

Bucky's stomach sinks, and his fingers feel cold where they grip his sandwich. “Excuse me?” he asks. Surely, this is a trap. This is the Rogers’ household trying to see whether he’s a True Believer or not. They're testing him. Bucky feels sick at the prospect of getting in trouble, so he mumbles, “I don’t think so,” and looks back down at his plate. “That’s not allowed.”

There’s a long beat of awkward silence, and then Steve says, “Guys, can you give us a minute?”

Four chairs scrape against the stone floor of the conservatory and Natasha and the others file out through the kitchen, disappearing back into the house. Bucky feels dread well in his gut. Has he said the wrong thing?

“Bucky,” Steve says carefully. “Do you really think that it’s wrong for an omega to read?”

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes boring into his head, so he looks up. Steve doesn’t look upset, he looks interested. Bucky licks his lips nervously. “Well. I dunno. I ... was an engineering major, in college,” he says. “I minored in English Lit.”

Steve nods sympathetically. “I take it you were quite an avid reader, then.”

“I guess.”

Steve continues to eat his lunch as if Bucky hasn’t said anything wrong, and it gives Bucky hope. Surely this can’t be, he thinks. Surely there aren’t people like this, aren’t households like this, anymore. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, heart lifting with new hope, about ready to bust free of the scar tissue that’s kept it tethered down for so long. "You'd let me read?"

“Yes,” Steve says. “You can come to my office tonight, after evening meal. You can pick out some books.”

Bucky’s heart soars. “Can I take some back to my room?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, sounding like a true Commander for the first time yet. He levels Bucky with a stern look. “My office is the only room in the house without windows. Do you understand? You may only read them in there.”

Bucky swallows heavily and ducks his head, cowed. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

Before:

Bucky’s naked toes scrape the ledge of the exam table. He’s only wearing the paper gown they gave him, and frankly the room’s too cold for that. The door to the exam room opens again, and Bucky’s eyes shoot up. He sits up straighter. “Doctor?”

The man doesn’t look at him. He walks over to the cabinets in the room and drops the folder he’s holding onto the countertop with a flourish and a sigh. Bucky screws up his face at having been ignored. “Um … what did the—”

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor says flatly, still not turning around. “Congratulations.”

Bucky’s heart sinks. Sure, he’d suspected. Hell, he’d pretty much known. Two positive at-home tests and a smiling pharmacist when he’d been desperate enough to buy a third had told him so. It’s why he’d come to the clinic. But still, shit. “Okay,” he says, swallowing heavily. “Okay. So, do I need to make another appointment to come back? Or can we just …”

The doctor’s shoulders tense up through the material of his lab coat. “Excuse me?” he says. He turns around and the expression on his face makes Bucky want to shrink away. “‘Can we just’? ‘Can we just’ what?”

“... I told you,” Bucky says, wary of the man's anger. “The pregnancy. I want to terminate.”

If he had any doubts about what was going through the physician’s mind, they’re quickly quashed by the way the man’s face now dissolves into disgust. “Well isn't that a pretty way of putting it,” he spits. “You want an abortion?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky juts his chin out in defiance. “You got a problem with that?”

The doctor scoffs. “Yes, I do. You know, hardly anyone can have a baby anymore. You manage to get pregnant, and you want to kill it?”

“It’s my choice.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Bucky stands up, heedless of the fact that he’s dressed in only the flimsy paper gown. “I don’t think you’re being very professional,” he says. Really, it’s not that this doctor’s opinion is that different from a lot of people’s these days, but Bucky still feels infuriated at the fact that he’s having to have this argument with a doctor, of all people. “Now, do I have to make an appointment to come back?” he grits. "Or can we take care of this today?"

The man’s features harden. “You’ll have to go somewhere else if you want to murder your own child. We don’t do that here.”

Bucky grinds his teeth. “This is a city-funded clinic.” He’d specifically come here instead of the private doctor that his parents’ insurance could easily cover. “You have to provide reproductive health care. It’s the law.”

“The law’s going to change real soon.” The doctor turns his back to Bucky and heads for the door. 

Bucky watches in disbelief as he's utterly dismissed. “Excuse me?”

“Get the hell out of my clinic,” the man says as he flings the door open and steps out into the hallway. He spares Bucky one last contemptuous glance. “There’s a special place in Hell for people like you.”

Bucky gapes as the man goes, and the door slowly shuts behind him. Suddenly, the room feels even colder than it had before, and Bucky’s desperate to get his clothes back on. He stoops to grab his jeans and underwear from where he’d put them on a chair, and he shucks them on, followed by his shirt. He rakes his hands through his hair, feeling overwhelmed tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. He’s had enough shit to deal with lately, what with midterms, his boyfriend breaking up with him, and now this pregnancy scare (well, not a scare anymore, as it turns out). He really didn’t need to deal with such a shitty person on today of all days.

“Well fuck you too,” he mutters to the empty room, bitterness burning in his gut. He’s going to go straight to the next city clinic, and the next, and the next, until he finds someone to agree to help him. Because no way in fucking hell is he having a baby one semester into undergrad.

After:

Bucky trails his hands over the spines of the books that line Commander Rogers’ library. Steve is sitting at his desk, distracted by whatever he’s looking at on the screen of his computer.

There must be over a thousand books in the office. Steve has books on everything from philosophy to horticulture; from biographies and novels, to antique encyclopedias and foreign language art books. Bucky can’t help but be impressed. And jealous. "This is amazing," he murmurs.

Steve spares him a glance from over at his desk. He looks vaguely amused. “It’s just a library.”

Said like someone who's never had anything taken away from him, Bucky thinks peevishly. “Must be a thousand," he guesses.

"Close to twelve hundred, last time I counted."

"Are they all yours, or did they come with—” he cuts himself off before he can complete the question.

It’s not talked about openly, isn't considered polite, but everybody knows that the Commanders of the Faithful all live in grand houses that were taken and not bought. Taken from people deemed unworthy by the government. Gender traitors, freedom fighters, apostates. There are plenty of things that can get a person killed these days, their house stripped away along with everything else they own. There’s a strong chance that this house they’re standing in right now got snatched from someone else; a person with a life, hopes and dreams, furniture, family. A person with possessions and passions. With books. 

Bucky tenses when he comes across an entire section stuffed full with different spiritual and holy books. There's one whole shelf dedicated to nothing but an assortment of bibles: King James, Catholic, Greek, and New Republic versions, all. Old and new, English and Latin. It seems to be a collection, and Bucky moves away down the line of books, uneasy at the evidence of Steve's religious fervor. "You're a collector?"

“Sort of. Took me over a decade to build all that up, though," Steve says. "I brought them all down when I moved. Couldn’t choose which ones to leave behind."

"Behind?"

"In New York.”

Bucky snaps to attention. “New York City?” he asks.

Steve looks over and sees his reaction—which must be telling, because a knowing smile splits his face. “What borough?” he asks.

“Brooklyn. Red Hook."

He scoffs and thumbs at his own chest. “Gowanus. Wow. I guess it’s a small world after all, huh? We probably grew up less than twenty minutes apart from each other."

Bucky bites his tongue to keep from saying any number of inappropriate, unfriendly things; about how their shared West Brooklyn origin is probably the only thing they have in common, how their situations are nothing alike, how Steve is obviously older than him, so they definitely were never “growing up” at the same time together, no matter where they lived. "Yeah,” he grunts. “Small world."

He keeps his focus on the books in front of his face. He's nervous just from perusing the titles; feels like he’s thirteen again, sneaking into his parents’ wine fridge, about to be caught and grounded at any second. Silly perhaps, but he can’t shake it. He doesn’t want to get into an unnecessary discussion on his appreciation for Commander Rogers’ library, or his own affinity for reading. Reading is forbidden for people like Bucky now. If caught, it could cost him a finger, or god forbid a whole hand. Since he’s only got the one left to work with, he’s got to be careful. The back of his brain keeps itching with the niggling reminder, over and over again: This could still be a trick.

In another life maybe he’dve be embarrassed of such paranoia, but he isn't now. He’s been conditioned to be this suspicious. At this point it’s simply survival instinct, to resist the twitch of his fingers as they linger over Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. It's sandwiched alphabetically right between Huxley and Orwell, with a little metal placard overhead that's engraved in tidy letters: Dystopian Fiction. Bucky starts to reach for the book.

“You a fan of the genre?”

His heart leaps and he jerks his hand back and looks over at Steve. “What? No. No I just …” Steve watches him keenly, with an inscrutable expression that does nothing to calm Bucky's nerves. He hastily shakes his head. “I’d seen the movie once, is all. Before.” He doesn’t have to expound on what “Before” means. They both know. Before the government collapsed. Before the regime took over. Before the world went to shit.

Well, he doesn’t yet know if Steve agrees with that last part. Regardless, Bucky knows he can’t place all of his trust on this man and his considerate treatment thus far. It isn’t worth what little bodily integrity he has left. He's got to be careful. “It was a depressing movie, anyway,” he mumbles, and moves on down the line of books to look for something else.

He winds up choosing a pulpy science fiction novel that he’s never heard of, by an author he’s never heard of, with subject matter completely removed from real life. It’s a cheap paperback, with a worn spine and outdated, sun-bleached cover art. Looks like something somebody dug out of a bin at a yard sale. It's probably not a very good read, but if Bucky’s going to be caught reading anything, it’ll be least painful if it’s something that has nothing to do with anything. Nothing … subversive. 

Steve doesn’t seem to care one way or another, though his eyes do seem sympathetic, as if he knows that Bucky is holding himself back. “You can come at night,” he tells him. “After dinner. I’ll be in here most nights. Sometimes doing business with other people, but when it’s just you and I alone together, I'll lock the door. You can stay and read whatever you like.”

Bucky tenses up at that wording: “alone together.” Since Gilead began, there’s only ever been one alpha who went out of his way to be alone with Bucky, and it hadn’t been for charitable reasons. “But it's not … It’s not a trade, right?” he checks nervously. When he works up the nerve to look at Steve's face, he catches the tail end of a shocked look, which rapidly bleeds into a scowl of insulted indignation. Bucky panics and tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to come in here at all, if you don’t want to,” Steve snaps. “Go to your room instead, for all I care.” He goes back to his typing at the computer, visibly incensed. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

Bucky winces, mortified at having pissed off his new Commander so soon—and when the guy was only trying to be nice to him, too! There’s so little left in this miserable world for people like Bucky, and now he fears he might’ve ruined the one good thing that was being offered. “No,” he hurries to say. “I’ll stay. I-I'd like to. I mean ... if that’s still okay?” 

Steve shrugs and doesn’t look over. “Do what you want.”

Feeling cowed, Bucky goes over to sit on the couch. He curls up in the corner nearest the room's fireplace and flips past the copyright and the title pages. He begins reading chapter one. It’s only as he’s re-reading the same paragraph for the third time that he realizes he’s not taking any of it in. He sighs and looks over at Steve. “I’m sorry," he says. "I wasn’t trying to insult you."

"It's fine."

Bucky bites his lip and looks back down. After another moment, he quietly adds, "Really, though. It's ... it means a lot, you letting me read in here." He peeks up again and finds Steve regarding him again, this time with a softened expression. Bucky tries to smile a little, and uses his name like a peace offering: "Thank you ... Steve."

Steve inhales deeply and nods, satisfied. “You’re welcome. Bucky.”

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

💖Join one of my tag lists by filling out this form

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

Tag List: (it's vertical b/c putting it in paragraph format always seems to deactivate half the links)

@scottishrosefury

@not-that-syndrigast

@lolitsbuckybarnes

@kathy-2005

@stuckysgal

@thenewmissescullen

@sapphirebarnes

@Yoruse

@autumnrose40

@alexakeyloveloki

@gretasimp

@kandismom

@ivoryangel1290

@mrs-rogers-barnes1

@iloveshawnieboi

@m0k0k0

@sousydive

@sapphirebarnes

@kandis-mom

@juicyfruit-22

@bloodrosefuryao3

@laylamikaelsonbarnes

@leighta

@drfellow

@era

@smlmsworld

@mrsstuckyboo

@banneriscarried

@saltyllamakidwombat

[steviebbboi]

List of my WIPs

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Thanksss for tagging me~ @mercurial-chuckles & @stellar-solar-flare

Man, im not joking, i have way too many WIP's but here are a few that i'm either genuinely working on/publishing/intentions to write:

If You Could, You Would (If I Could, I Would) [Series] - <Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!OFC>

Red [Series] - <Captain America/Steve Rogers x Mutant!OFC>

Lessons in Power [One-shot] - <Tutor!SoftDom!Steve Rogers x Tutee!F!Reader> ➡ Plot ask answered ➡ Lil smol snippet 😏

Inked Corruption [One-shot] - <TattooArtist!Ari Levinson x F!Reader> ➡ Plot ask answered

Old Bonds, New Beginnings [Mini-Series; 1/2] - <Biker!Ari Levinson x F!Reader> ➡Part 2 lil smol snippet 🩹 ➡Headcanon prompt about Biker!Ari's character

At Your Service [TBD] - <HotelConcierge!Ari Levinson x HotelGuest!F!Reader>

Demon's Devotion [TBD] - <SoftDemon!Lloyd Hansen x HunterF!Reader> ➡Plot ask answered

Under the Ivy [Mini-Series; 3-Parts (TBD)] - <Professor!Andy Barber x Student!F!Reader>

Sapphire Serenade [Mini-Series/Drabble Series] - <BandMember!Curtis Everett x LeadSinger!F!Reader>

From Rags to Riches [Mini-Series/Drabble Series] - <Angry!SoftDaddy!Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader>

Romance and Reason [Mini-Series; 3-Parts (TBD)] - <Teacher!Frank Adler x Teacher!Reader> ➡Plot ask answered

I definitely want to add the WIP's for Johnny Storm. But also, for other fandoms like Henry Cavill and Charlie Hunnam. BUUUT, lemme also quit while I'm ahead 😅

NPT (apologies if you were already tagged bb's):

@autumnrose40 @eloquentlytired @books-and-autumn-leaves @imaginedisish @misscherry-26

@caplanbuckybarnes @sparkledfirecracker

but anyone that wasn't tagged, feel free to join in :)

Tag list: @patzammit @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall's Masterlist

Hello and welcome! Thanks for stopping by and hope to see you here again ;)

I am working on putting together all of my AO3 works from different accounts into here, so beat with me ❤️

I do have some rules:

No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it. Please don’t add your additions or spin-offs to my existing story.

If the description states 18+ than please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

I love constructive criticism - what I mean by that? Please be polite (not only here but everywhere). We are all just humans making mistakes.

English isn't my first language so please bear with me :)

You can ask me anything, If I do not wish to answer/write about something, I will let you know.

🔥- smut 🌈- fluff ⚠️ - angst

So let's get started and enjoy!

Chains of Destiny- Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Mutant F!OC ⚠️ for now later 🔥⚠️🌈 (series)

New life - Wolverine/worst!Logan x Reader 🔥⚠️🌈 (one shot)

Sweet past - Joel Miller (dbf) x Reader (series on-going) 🔥⚠️🌈

For Rome - General Marcus Acasius x Reader (series on-going) 🔥⚠️🌈

The guard till the end - Oberyn Martell x F!OC ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Fool - Sandor Clegane x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Escape - Bucky Barnes x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that - Bucky Barnes x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Love is an open door - Bucky Barnes x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Nothings ever what it seems - Bucky Barnes ⚠️ (one-shot)

I ain’t afraid of no skeleton - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Home / Home 2 - Steve Rogers x Reader 🔥⚠️🌈 (two-parter) 18+

The only B - Professor!Steve x Student!Reader 🔥🌈 (one-shot) 18+

Enough is Enough / Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️ 🌈(two-shots)

But it’s snowing - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The first snow of the year - Steve Rogers x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Ceasg - Pirate!Steve Rogers x Mermaid!Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The PA - Tony Stark x Reader ⚠️🌈 (mini-series - finished)

I didn’t want it to be this way - Curtis Everett x Reader 🔥⚠️⚠️⚠️ (one-shot) 18+

Jealous - Geralt x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Time of War - Captain Syverson x Fem!OC (series ongoing)

Teenage Fantasy - Henry Cavill x Reader 🔥🌈 (one-shot)

The one with the Force - Obi Wan Kenobi x F!OC Medic (series ongoing)

Love isn't something you just learn, Commander part 1 / Part 2- Commander Cody x F!Reader ⚠️🔥🌈 18+ (two-parter finished)

Hope - Hunter x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one shot)

A new life / Part 2 / Part 3 - Commander Fox x F!OC ⚠️🔥🌈 18+ (three-parter finished)

Jealous - Echo x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The Fight isn't over yet - Rex x F!OC (series ongoing)

[talesofadragon]

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.  

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter 2 - Morally Gray | Varicolored Schemes Masterlist

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 god’s hell on earth. 

Back in college, Y/N had to take a mandatory liberal arts elective. And up to this day, she still doesn’t understand why it’s called that when she didn’t elect to take it. Her professor at the time had the stupendous idea to focus on Renaissance drama as if this was the single most enthralling subject for a bunch of twenty-year-olds. 

While her memory retained nothing besides the fact that most of William Shakespeare's characters were speculated to be queer and The Spanish Tragedy seldom had an interesting plotline, she now recalled one particular quote she didn't know she remembered: "Hell's empty and all the devils are here."

Oh, William. Something true did come out of his mouth. 

"You look like someone murdered your cat," Yelena remarked as soon as Y/N stepped into her line of sight. The closer Y/N got to Yelena, the more prominent the scowl on the blonde’s face became.

Y/N glared at her best friend, throwing her bag harshly onto the coffee table, followed by her drenched notebook and coffee tumbler. Yelena's green eyes fixated on the chaotic mess, only momentarily straying when Y/N completed the picture with a heavy thud as she unceremoniously took a seat.

“Coffee,” she managed to let out. Yelena extended one of the cups to her side, but Y/N swatted it away in favor of the taller one. “You take the small one. I’m in urgent need of a pick-me-up.” 

Yelena arched her brow, pointing at the cup inches away from Y/N’s lips. “It’s a Nitro Cold Brew.” 

“Don’t care.” 

“You’ve never ordered it before.”

Y/N shrugged, taking her first sip. “I’m open to trying new things.” 

“Do you know how many shots of espresso are in there?” Yelena’s tone was borderline incredulous. Y/N didn’t care.

“Maybe I need the kick.” 

“It’s espresso, Y/N,” Yelena grumbled. She glanced at the discarded pumpkin-spice latte she had grabbed for her best friend, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of having to drink it herself. “It’s not tequila.” 

A loud huff reverberated across the back of the coffee shop they were sitting in. It was ludicrous of Y/N to think that her day would get any better with a cup of coffee when that horrendous drink made her want to empty her stomach. 

Begrudgingly, she slid the drink back to Yelena and snatched her own. “I’ve had a terrible day.” 

“You don’t say.” 

“Scratch that. A terrible week. And a half!” 

“What happened this time?” Yelena carefully asked. 

Inadvertently, Y/N’s brain decided it was more than adequate to remind her about the tragedies of the past week and a half. At first, it started alright. Great even. She didn't drink much when she went to Purgatory, so she woke up the next day without a single tingle in her head. Her day went about alright, and she even told Yelena—albeit briefly, given the hangover her best friend sported—about her interaction with Steve. 

That day was pretty uneventful, and so was the next one. But then, it was as though the floodgates of hell had opened, and Lucifer had prophesied her as the Chosen One, destined to endure the ultimate suffering.

Between a car splashing her with mud and having her get to her meeting looking and smelling like Ron Weasley’s great aunt Tessie, someone leaving a dent on her precious car, and a teenager in a Spider-Man mask trying to rob her only to throw her back her money and take her favorite purse... let’s just say she didn’t want to take a trek down that particular memory lane. 

“An old woman stole my umbrella.” 

And as if her being drenched from head to toe didn’t suffice, Yelena had to spit her espresso-loaded coffee directly on her juniper green shirt. Thank God she wasn’t wearing white this time. 

“I’m sorry, птичка,” Yelena enunciated in between chuckles. “I thought you said an old woman, who is supposed to be much less nimble than yourself, stole your umbrella.” 

“Laugh all you want, Yelena. But that woman was like a fucking torpedo when I told her I could only help her cross the street because the coffee shop was on the opposite side of wherever she had to go!” 

“Savage,” Yelena commented. Suddenly, and in a very uncharacteristic manner, she turned quiet. As Y/N sipped on her coffee, her eyes flicked up to catch her best friend’s pensive expression. She was tapping her fingers against the plastic coffee cup with her gaze idle on the rain. 

“What’s wrong?” 

There was silence at first, followed by a loud exhale. Then, after ten more seconds, Yelena placed her elbows on the table, shifting her body forward. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Oh no!” Y/N vigorously shook her head. “Don’t make my week even worse. Please.” 

Yelena's eyes held a rare empathy, a sight that Y/N seldom witnessed. It was evident that the forthcoming words were about to unveil something dreadful. Y/N just knew it. 

“Baron Zemo, the Sokovian investor I told you about, called me today. He wants to talk about the Red Room.” 

Y/N blinked twice. The despair she felt evaporated, replaced by a much more joyful sensation. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed, fully aware of the immense effort her best friend had put into creating the Red Room—a local dance studio that nurtured young girls' passion for dance.

But Yelena didn't seem too enthusiastic about the prospect. Her mouth twitched, transitioning from a scowl to a thin line. "He wants us to meet in person. The day after tomorrow," she revealed. She grabbed her coffee cup and took a rather long sip of her coffee—as if it served as her liquid courage. "He's in Romania."

“Romania!” Y/N hollered. Screw joy. She was confused as hell. Because while she wasn’t the most prodigious student in the world, nor did she have a modicum of aptitude in Geography, she did know that Romania was thousands of miles away. “Why didn’t you let me know before? And do not even attempt to tell me you didn’t have these plans before, and you just had them now!” 

Yelena winced. “You’re still hung up on that?”

“Yes!”

“I’m sorry, okay. My team has been in contact with him for months, and we’ve heard nothing. He called this morning and said he’d like to discuss the business along with expansion prospects. But he has an opening in three days or in seven months. That guy is an important investor. I couldn’t pass up on this opportunity.” 

Well, when you put it that way, Y/N thought. As much as she wanted to yell and hurl her pumpkin-spice latte at the wall, she couldn’t help but be happy for Yelena. Yes, bad news were pelting her mercilessly, but that wasn’t the case for her best friend. 

“At what time is your flight?” she asked in a steady voice. 

Yelena smiled appreciatively. “Midnight.” 

“I’ll drive you.” She rushed out of her seat, engulfing Yelena in a warm embrace. They held each other for a few seconds, but the touching moment soon melted when Y/N shifted to the right and felt something hit the floor with a thud. “Please tell me it’s not your drink.” 

“It’s not.” Y/N’s shoulders eased. “It’s yours.” 

A bad week and a half, she repeated in her head. 

Luckily, Lucifer had decided to move on to the next unfortunate soul, leaving Y/N with two mundane days. Apart from her supervisor, Maria, grilling her about delivering the latest interior design schemes for the Odinson project, nothing exciting happened.

On the second day, Y/N drove Yelena to the airport and only departed after receiving a promise of a nice gift. She had dropped her off at nine in the evening and made it home around an hour later. 

Having nothing better to do, she changed into her pajamas, made herself some popcorn, and decided to treat herself to an episode or two of FRIENDS. Her enthusiasm was unrelenting as she continued watching episode after episode, surpassing the four-episode mark.

Little did she know that her streak of luck was finite. Just as Yelena texted that the plane was taking off and the clock struck midnight, Y/N's fairy godmother played the cruelest joke on her—the power cut off.

“Oh, come on!” Y/N whined exasperatedly. She kicked her legs against her rug, throwing a tantrum like a child who’s been denied candy. After a steady string of curses, she fished out her phone and turned on her flashlight. 

Since she was living in a house rather than an apartment, she peeked through her window to check if she was the only one facing a power outage. Most of the lights were off in the houses around them—it was midnight, after all. But the street lights were, in fact, on. 

Once outside, she located the panel and opened it. The switches appeared to be in the “on” position, but she noticed that some of the wires looked worse for wear. 

“Seriously, Lucifer. What do you want, you bastard? My soul in exchange for some peace!” Maybe that wasn't the wisest thing to say to the devil. Next thing she knew, the wires inside the electrical panel were cackling, and sparks began to fly. The sudden noise startled her, causing her to jump back in surprise. “That was a joke! Don’t they have those in hell?” 

Capriciously, the energy within the panel flared up. Y/N decided it was best to stop talking. 

Nervously, she started chewing on her nails. It was already midnight, with electricians available at this hour. In a situation like this, she would have called Yelena, but Yelena was already on a lengthy 8-hour flight to Sokovia. Seeking help from neighbors at this late hour wasn't a viable option either. And though she could consider sleeping in her car, the trembling in her fingers and her foggy breath reminded her of the biting cold.

Finding herself at a crossroads, Y/N pondered going inside and waiting for tomorrow to come. In the end, it’s not like her bad luck could possibly get any worse. But the crackling electricity was intensifying her anxiety and making it difficult to make a decision. Until she was suddenly reminded of something. 

Don’t hesitate to give me a call. Even if it’s at four in the morning, the voice inside her head echoed. 

Was it egotistic on her part to call Steve just because she needed help? Yes. Was it completely illogical to expect him to be awake at midnight? Uh-huh. Was she going to do it anyway? Absolutely. In fact, she was on the second ring now. And she just hoped Lucifer didn’t have any more tricks planned.

"Hello?" The first thing she noticed was the skepticism evident in the voice. The second realization was that it belonged to a woman.

Lucifer, Y/N called in her head. You can kill me now.

“Uhm, good evening.” Great. Now that the easy part was out of the way, she was left with one last dilemma. This woman could potentially be Steve's wife, and she's going to confuse Y/N for the mistress. Fun-fucking-tastic. “I’m sorry, but is this Steve Rogers’ number?” 

“Who is asking?” the woman fired back. 

Maybe it was time to end the call. “I’m Y/N. I, uh, kind of need some help.” 

"I'll inform Mr. Rogers that you called," the woman replied. A flicker of hope ignited in Y/N's chest, only to be extinguished as quickly as a discarded cigarette crushed on the pavement when the woman abruptly hung up the phone, leaving her stunned and disheartened.

Y/N clutched her phone tightly against her chest. She stomped her foot on the ground, tears of frustration beginning to well up in her eyes. These two weeks had been horrible, and there wasn’t the slightest sign that it was going to get any better. 

Y/N massaged her eyes with her thumb and index fingers, feeling the strain of the cold and the situation weighing upon her. As she started mentally searching for the correct placement of her flashlights and candles, her phone began to vibrate, her ringtone reverberating through the quiet and empty street.

Biting her cheek, Y/N fished it out. To her delight, it was Steve. She immediately pressed the accept button, anticipating to hear the woman from before. But a different voice greeted her instead. 

“Steve?” 

“Evening, Y/N.” His tone was placid and calm. Good, so Y/N hadn’t disturbed him with her unexpected call. “Everything alright?”

“I am so sorry to call you at this hour,” she hurriedly replied. Y/N barely took a breath before she continued, “I didn’t want to bother you so late, and I didn’t want to ask for a favor either. I know this makes me sound so selfish, but believe me, Steve. I had the most horrendous two weeks of my life, which is why I never texted you—”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Y/N. I didn’t give you my number with any expectation that you might call or text me. It’s okay. And I don't think that you're selfish. You've obviously taken your time before calling me, so what's the issue? You're not in trouble, are you?"

He’s so sweet, Y/N thought. She hadn’t even realized she was smiling at his words until she had to clear her throat. 

“Something’s wrong with the power at my house. My best friend is out of the country and most of my neighbors are sleeping. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about it and wait till tomorrow, but my electrical panel is acting out. So, I don’t know what to do.” 

“You send me your location and wait for me to come,” he replied matter-of-factly with too much confidence and little to no hesitance. 

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. The gentle heat in his words dispelled the coldness that had clung to her, leaving her feeling embraced by warmth.

“I don’t want to bother you.” 

“You’re no bother at all, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for your text.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N immediately sent him her location. When she made sure he read it, she decided it was best to wait for him inside her house. It wasn’t like he was going to be there in the next twenty seconds. So, she sat by the window, grabbed a flashlight from her cupboard, and turned it on. 

She felt giddy for some reason—excited to see him again. There was a certain kindness to him, she supposed. A comforting aura that told her that when he was there, there was nothing to fear. Maybe it was the fact that he towered over her, and she was sure his whole body would engulf her if she ever found herself in his arms. Or maybe it was his blue eyes that consumed her whole. 

A car's headlights suddenly pierced through the darkness, grabbing Y/N's attention and pulling her out of her reverie. Startled, she glanced down at her phone, disbelief washing over her as she realized she had been lost in her thoughts for what felt like an eternity. To her surprise, only fifteen minutes had actually passed. A wave of relief and gratitude washed over her when the car parked by her house.

Y/N's heart raced with anticipation as she hastily bolted toward the door, unlocking it and eagerly stepping outside. Though her giddiness and excitement turned to confusion when she realized that Steve wasn't the one who emerged from the car.

“Miss Y/N?” a man called out. It was Sam, Steve’s best friend. When Y/N nodded, he continued, “I’m Sam Wilson, and this is Bucky Barnes. Steve sent us.” 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She shook their hands. “Thank you so much for coming. I'm sorry to have bothered you this late.” 

“Where’s the electrical panel?” Bucky cut to the chase. Now that he was close, he looked a bit intimidating. He stood at the same height as Steve, though slightly less physically built.

Y/N led him to the panel, taking a step back to allow him to work. He carefully examined it while she fidgeted with her hands, gazing at the car they had arrived in. 

“We were in the area,” Sam’s voice cut through. Y/N’s attention turned to him. She looked like a deer in the headlights. “Steve lives upstate. He figured it was faster to send us.” 

“And I really appreciate it,” Y/N responded. 

After Sam joined Bucky in examining the panel, silence filled the air for a while. The sound of electricity hissing intermittently persisted until both men finally stepped back.

“The bad news is, some of the fuses seem to have melted and need replacement,” Bucky explained. “The good news is, it shouldn’t be too difficult to fix. But, it’ll have to wait until morning.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped slightly as she absorbed the information. What has she ever done to be rewarded with two terrible weeks?

“Alright. Thanks for the help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you at this hour,” she said, sounding apologetic.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Hold on a minute,” he interjected, a touch of worry in his voice. “You can’t just go back to your house like this.”

Confused, Y/N asked, “Why not?”

“Because it’s freezing outside, and you’re gonna get hypothermia without any heat in your house. Not to mention it’s not safe.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, trying to brush off the concern. “I have quilts, you know,” she reassured him. “And a lock.”

Sam shook his head. He turned to Bucky, who licked his mouth before he spoke. “If you do that, doll. I have a feeling our boss will not be too happy about it,” Bucky admitted. “Let me call him.”

Bucky stepped away from the group, pulling out his phone to make the call. As he conversed with Steve, Y/N caught fragments of their conversation before the phone was handed to her.

“You’re not seriously going to sleep in your house?” Steve’s voice sounded both worried and protective.

Y/N responded with a soft hum, trying to downplay the situation. “I have quilts and a lock.”

“And I have a perfectly fine apartment nearby that I don’t use. It’s not too far from your place.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes focused on the ground. She then looked up, biting her lower lip. “Steve,” she started, her voice wavering slightly.

He interrupted her gently, understanding the weight of the situation. “Look, I know we’ve barely met. But I can’t just let you sleep in your house under such circumstances. Especially after Bucky and Sam couldn’t help much. I don’t use that apartment, and if it makes you feel safer, you can text your friends your Live Location and take your own car there. I just want to help.”

Y/N was taken aback by Steve’s unwavering concern and kindness. She realized that his offer came from a genuine place of wanting to help, even though they were relative strangers. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded appreciatively.

“Alright, Steve. Thank you,” she finally responded, her voice filled with gratitude. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Glad to hear it, Y/N. Could you pass Bucky the phone, please? We’ll make sure you’re safe and warm tonight.”

Y/N handed Bucky the phone. She quickly explained to Sam that she would be retrieving a few belongings from her apartment. On her way inside, Y/N shot Yelena a text, including her live location and a brief explanation. Just in case.

Taking a moment to gather her essentials, including pepper spray for added security, Y/N made sure to remember to take Steve's jacket, the one he’d offered her two weeks ago. With her belongings in hand, she set off on her way. If only she knew what she had gotten herself into. 

Series Taglist: @crazyunsexycool @patzammit @wintasssoldier @themrsrogers

Steve seems like a knight in shining armor. Does he not?

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 3 | Star Command Blue

[sam24]

Darcy's Chronicles

Summary: Being the school's star football player, everyone knew Steve Rogers. He was kind, funny, handsome, and no doubt absolutely jacked. He basically looked like an angel that fell from heaven . . . that also happened to land directly on top of you, the sport medicine major who was just trying to do her job.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

college au | athlete steve

_____

GAME 1

You stood on the sideline of the noisy football field, foot tapping and fingers drumming against the water bottle carrier you were assigned to hold. The vibrant energy of the stadium was deafening, and the hollers and screams coming from the stands behind you were enough to make you cringe. 

Your feet ached underneath you, and you shifted your weight onto the other foot, mentally cursing yourself for not choosing a major where you could just sit in a damn seat. 

Instead, you were here, standing in the humid night air and handing water bottles to sweaty men wearing shoulder pads. You glanced over longingly behind you at your friends sitting in the bleachers, making a face when Natasha stuck her tongue out at you mockingly.

However, you felt Dr. Cho’s watchful eyes on the back of your head, so you decided to play nice and turn back around towards the game.

Luckily, you had Darcy to keep you company.

“Tell us what you’re thinking, Ms. Future Trainer,” she said as she shoved her microphone into her face. “Are we gonna have any grave injuries to any of our players tonight?”

“Are you suggesting that we’re hoping for grave injuries tonight, Darcy?”

“Stop being a smartass,” Darcy made a face at you. “Just tell us what you think.”

You swatted at the microphone that she was holding way too close to your mouth. “Well, what I think is that Professor Hill sent you to interview the players and the coaches, not me.”

Darcy just waved you off and turned to her cameraman. “She’s just playing hard to get. She loves it when I do this kinda stuff.”

“Love is definitely a stretch, Darcy,” you rolled your eyes. “Now go scram before Dr. Cho catches me slacking off.”

“Calm down, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes, Cho’s not even looking.” Darcy flipped her hair over her shoulder and put on her best announcer voice. “Now tell us: I’m sure, being a sports medicine major and a suck up to Dr. Cho, head of the athletic training department, you’ve been taken along to many practices and games this season-”

“This is literally the season’s first game.”

“Whatever, don’t interrupt me.” She looked at her cameraman with a “Can you believe this chick?” look on her face. “Anyways, so, of course, you probably have spent a lot of time with these smoking hot football boys. So, tell the camera with pride, which one of these men would you make out in the locker room with?”

You shot Darcy a look of disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

She grinned mischievously, undeterred. “Don’t be shy, Doctor. We all know you’ve been eyeing them like a hawk.”

“Eyeing them is literally in my job description,” you shot back.

“Touché,” she replied with a shrug, but leaned in conspiratorially. Of course, the cameraman leaned in with her. “But seriously, who’s your locker room fantasy?”

You stared at her wordlessly.

“Fine, let's make this easier. I’ll give you some options to choose from.” She didn’t seem to mind the exasperated groan that left your mouth. “Option A: Quarterback Bucky Barnes with the bedroom eyes. Option B: Tight end Thor with those huge fucking shoulders. Option C: Linebacker Captain Blondie-”

Then everything happened at the same time.

Darcy stopped talking, which was very much unlike her, as her eyes widened and she backed away. You noticed the crowd got even louder with chaos, and your ears caught the announcers’ voices before you could turn around to face the game.

“Rogers and Davis fightin’ over that ball-”

“Looks like they’re headed straight for the sideline-”

You started to turn, but before you could think, you were flat on your back, completely crushed underneath a brick wall.

Oh wait.

That was a person.

“Holy Mother of- fuck!” You quite literally saw stars as you grimaced in pain. It felt like a semi truck had run over your ribs. You slowly opened your eyes, finding a blurry sight of people standing around you like you were a patient in a hospital bed waking up after a surgery.

However, the most prominent sight was the concerned face of Steve Rogers inches away from yours, whose helmet was thrown off somewhere to the side.

“Am I dead?” You managed to croak out.

He looked a bit amused at your dramatic question- a little too amused for your liking, considering the fact he had just almost killed you. “Uh, no?”

The two of you just stared at each other until you snapped. “Get off of me, you human wrecking ball!”

You heard Darcy cackle somewhere next to you. “Are you getting all of this, Scott? Don’t you dare turn that camera off.”

You unsuccessfully attempted to push him off before he came to his senses and clambered off of you. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He extended his arm out to help you up.

“Am I okay? Really? Buddy, you just pancaked me into a fucking omelette!” You stubbornly ignored his hand, bringing yourself up to a sitting position with a wince.

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh at the annoyance painted across your face, but you could see genuine guilt in his eyes. “I know, I know, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Darcy, unlike Steve, couldn’t contain her laughter. “Oh, this is gold! Keep it coming, guys!”

“A ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna unflatten me.”

Steve’s lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “How about multiple sorries?” He pulled his hand back to rest on his hips, realizing you weren’t going to take his help any time soon.

“Real funny.” You rolled your eyes.

He flashed you an apologetic grin, re-extending his hand out to help you up. “You gonna sit around on the ground for the rest of the night or something?”

“Or something.” You nodded with a shrug.

“All right then,” he raised an eyebrow with a grin. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to help you off the ground.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to send up a flare,” you deadpanned.

Before he could say anything else, Coach Fury, along with other men in headsets, came up from behind Steve and clapped him on the shoulder, shoving his dropped helmet into his arms. “Enough flirting, Rogers. Get back on that field.”

“We weren’t-” Steve started with a flushed face.

Fury interrupted him as he turned towards you, and you suddenly wished you had taken Steve’s help earlier as Fury eyed you up and down while you sat in the grass, no doubt looking stupid.

“Make sure you're paying attention to the game, Missy. Can’t have Cho’s trainers getting taken out by my boys.”

You nodded quickly in embarrassment, giving Steve the stink eye as soon as Fury stopped eyeing you, though you could still feel Dr. Cho’s amused eyes on you.

The coach shoved him towards the field as Steve looked over his shoulder at you, laughing as you gave him the middle finger with a badly hidden smile. 

GAME 2

“Hey.”

You looked up from the medical kit you were checking over, finding Steve Rogers smiling sheepishly at you, fully suited up and ready for the game, cradling his helmet in his arms.

“Oh, hi there. Are you here to pulverize me again?”

“Not quite,” he grinned, and you tried not to notice how gorgeous his smile was. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright. I was looking for you after that game. Couldn’t find you though.”

“Probably because I had to be airlifted to the hospital after that vicious attack.”

Steve held up his hand in a mock oath. “Won’t do it again. Scout’s honor.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Seriously though, are you okay?”

You decided not to mess around with him, sensing the worry in his voice. “Other than a bruised ego? Nah, I’m okay.”

Steve let out a relieved sigh, and you pretended not to notice the melting of your heart. “Good to hear. And, uh, sorry again.”

You waved it off, looking back down at the medical kit you were working with. “Don’t you have other things to be doing? Like warming up or whatever.”

“Yeah, uh, I probably should get to that,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck as he made no attempt to leave.

You looked up and turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow expectantly at his flushed face. “Can I help you, Rogers?”

“Uh, kinda?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson laughing at their friend, throwing Steve some encouraging thumbs ups.

“What’s with the peanut gallery over there?” You nodded towards his teammates out on the field with a smirk.

“Nothing, uh, they’re just being annoying.” Steve glared at Bucky and Sam before turning back to you. “I just wanted to ask you if uh, you-”

“Could fill up your water bottle?” You finished his sentence with a smirk.

“Uh, that would be nice, but not exactly.”

You feigned innocence. “Oh? What else could it be?”

Steve took a breath. “If you wanted to grab some ice cream with me after the game tonight?”

“Wow! It’s happening folks!” Darcy loudly announced to the camera from a couple yards away. “Step aside, gossip column! We’ve got breaking news right here!”

You glared at Darcy before focusing back on Steve.

“Y’know, kinda like a truce?” he shrugged with a teasing smirk. “I nearly broke your ribs the other day with my superman strength, so buying you ice cream is the least I could do.”

“Calm down there, Hercules. You’re one protein shake away from bursting out of that jersey.”

Steve laughed, and your brain basically turned into mush at the sound. “So is that a yes?”

“Find me after the game.” You smiled at him before pushing him towards the field. “Now go stretch unless you feel like spraining something tonight.”

“If that means you’ll patch me up, I think I’m fine with that.” He grinned as he walked backwards, eyes trained on you.

“Not funny, Rogers,” you rolled your eyes. “Now skedaddle before I unleash the wrath of Dr. Cho on you.”

“Wow.” He was still walking backwards towards his team, not wanting to turn away from you. “You are a cruel woman.”

“Dr. Cho! This man is distracting me from-”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” He laughed as he turned around and jogged away, giving you a final glance over his shoulder.

GAME 7

You pressed down on the pump of the cooler, water spraying you in the face as you tried to refill the players’ water bottles.

“Fucking cooler-”

You felt a familiar set of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you smiled at the touch, not bothering to turn around.

“Don’t you have some sorta half-time talk thing to be attending to?”

“The half-time talk thing is over, sweetheart,” Steve mocked, kissing your shoulder. “Besides, I had to come over here and save my girl from this rabid water cooler.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you tried to wipe the water off your face with the back of your hand. “Why thank you, kind sir. What would I ever do without you and your heroic abilities?”

Steve chuckled against your skin. “Just doing my duty, ma’am. Can’t have my favorite trainer getting attacked by rogue appliances, can I?”

“Favorite, huh?” You leaned back into his embrace. “Don’t let Sharon hear that. I think she started a little crush on you while she was taping up your shoulder last week.”

Steve placed a kiss on your cheek, arms tightening around you. “Can’t blame her. Who wouldn’t fall for this charming smile?”

“Fury, for one,” you said as you elbowed him in the ribs. “If you don’t get on that field right now, even your charming smile won’t be able to save you, Rogers.”

Steve laughed, spinning you around by the waist to face him. “Fine. But first I need a kiss for good luck.”

“I’m pretty sure you already got one before the game, Rogers.” You quipped with raised eyebrows. 

“Ah, but the luck definitely would’ve worn off,” he said as he pulled you closer.

“Mhm, because that’s exactly how luck works.” You nodded your head sarcastically, a playful glint in your eyes.

He shrugged innocently. “Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” With a boyish grin, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, pulling you into a familiar kiss that never failed to make your heart race.

“Can you feel the love tonight, folks?” You heard Darcy announce to her camera somewhere off to the side. “‘Cause I sure can!”

You pulled away from Steve, gently pushing him towards the field. “Alright Romeo, get lost before Fury bans me from the rest of your games. He’s threatened me twice already.”

He saluted with a chuckle and jogged over to the rest of his team, but not before leaning forward for one last kiss, of course.

“See ya later, sweetheart,” he called over his shoulder. “Watch out for those charming linebackers.”

GAME 9

“Rogers catches a clean pass from Barnes-”

“Would you look at that! He’s sprinting downfield with a clear path-”

“Looks like he’s going all the way!”

The announcers’ voices fueled the crowd’s fervor as you and Darcy gripped each other's hands tightly. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as you watched Steve, your heart pounding in rhythm with the game. He was so close. Almost to the end zone-

All of a sudden, Steve was lying on the floor, motionless and unmoving, a stark contrast to the chaos going on around him. The giant defender loomed over him, casting a mocking shadow over Steve. 

“Rogers goes down hard! That’s gotta hurt!”

The crowd went silent. Your heart leaped into your throat as the cheers turned into worried murmurs, the crowd realizing that he wasn’t about to stand up and smack his chest with pride like he usually did. Before you could even fully comprehend what had happened, you were running out to the field, your heart pounding along with your footsteps as you weaved your way around players.

You dropped down to your knees next to Steve, carefully removing his helmet, and cupping your hands to his face. Every instinct screamed at you to spring into action, to follow the protocols drilled into you during countless lectures and training sessions.

However, all you could do was trace the familiar lines of his face with desperation. Despite the torment of thoughts that clamored for your attention -check for a concussion, open up the medical kit, clear the field, wait for Dr. Cho- your body could only let you stroke his cheek softly, urging him to open his eyes and tell you he was alright.

“Steve? Honey, can you hear me?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper as tears welled up in your eyes, willing him to respond.

The crowd watched with hushed anticipation as Steve’s eyes fluttered open, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at you. “Hey.”

As you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you vaguely registered Dr. Cho’s presence as she dropped down next to you, gently removing your hands from his face. He frowned dazedly at the loss of contact, so you settled for gripping his hand instead, while you kept your other hand free to help Dr. Cho.

Her neck snapped up in the direction of Bucky Barnes and the meathead that knocked Steve over, who were now involved in a heated exchange as they shoved and cursed at each other. “Shut up,” she ordered with narrowed eyes. “Both of you.”

Dr. Cho turned her attention back to Steve, who was grinning slightly with amusement. “Damn, you tell ‘em, Doc.”

A faint chuckle, that sounded more like a sob, escaped your lips at Steve’s remark as you rolled your eyes.

Steve flashed you a lopsided grin, squeezing your hand slightly. “Hey, laughter’s the best medicine, right?”

Dr. Cho shook her head with a grin. “Save the jokes for later, Rogers. Let’s get you checked out first.”

While Cho opened up her kit, you squeezed Steve’s hand. “Steve, can you tell me what day it is?”

“It’s an awesome day ‘cause I’m looking at you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, despite the worry gnawing at your insides as you resisted the urge to shove his shoulder at the bad joke. “Did hitting your head make you even more annoying?” 

Steve’s hazy grin softened into a tender expression. “Nah,” he said gently as he reached up to wipe away a tear that had escaped your eye earlier. “Just needed to see you smile.”

“That’s cute,” Dr. Cho deadpanned as your heart warmed up at his words. “But answer the question.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“And the month?”

“October.”

“Can you tell me-”

“Are you just gonna sit there asking questions, or are you gonna call an ambulance for my player?” Fury barked, making his way to the front of the crowd of athletes and coaches.

“Take a breath, Coach Fury,” Dr. Cho instructed as she flashed a light into Steve’s eyes. “Looks like a moderate concussion to me.”

“Moderate concussion, my ass!” Bucky growled, jabbing his finger into Meathead’s chest. “This numbskull bashed Steve’s head into the fucking ground!”

“Enough,” Dr. Cho commanded with a stern look. “Let’s focus on getting Steve off the field first, then we’ll take him to the hospital if needed.”

“Wait, what about the game?” Steve mumbled.

“Don’t worry about the game. Your health comes first, stupid,” you said as you wiped your damp eyes.

Dr. Cho nodded. “She’s right. Your team can pull through by themselves, Rogers, don’t worry.” She motioned for the rest of the medical team to bring out the stretcher. “Let’s get you off the field and properly assessed.”

GAME 12

You practically jumped into Steve’s awaiting arms as you ran onto the field, squeezing him tight and laughing as he spun you around, despite the crowd of jumping people around you.

“THEY’VE DONE IT, FOLKS!” Darcy screamed maniacally into her microphone from somewhere behind you. “OUR TEAM MANAGED TO SCORE IN THE LAST 3 SECONDS OF THE GAME! WE’RE GOING TO PLAYOFFS BABY!”

He set you down and pulled you in by the waist, planting a searing kiss onto your lips. Amidst the chaos and cheers, time seemed to stand still for just a moment, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his embrace and the sweetness of his kiss. It was just you and him.

Well, it was until Darcy pulled you two apart and shoved her microphone into Steve’s face.

“That catch was abso-fucking-lutely brilliant, Rogers!” She slapped Steve’s shoulder pads roughly. “Tell the camera how you feel after that bad-ass win!”

“Isn’t this supposed to be a family-friendly broadcast, Darcy?” Steve quipped with a raised eyebrow.

“No one cares, Goldilocks. I’ll just tell Professor Hill that it showcases the raw emotions of-”

Bucky cut in, stepping in front of Steve and grabbing the mic out of her hands roughly.

“Hey!” She frowned, unsuccessfully attempting to snatch it back. “You’re interrupting my interview, you little-”

“VICTORY TASTES DAMN SWEET!” Bucky hollered into the microphone, putting his face way too close to the camera. Thor joined the party as well, jumping onto Bucky’s back and screaming incoherently into the mic as he shook the camera with his huge hands.

Darcy, somehow managing to pry the microphone out of Bucky’s sweaty hand, adjusted her glasses and plastered a smile on her face.

“You heard it first-hand, folks!” She said through clenched teeth, her voice strained as she swatted Thor’s hands off of the camera and forcibly shoved Bucky out of the frame. “Victory tastes sweet to our football heroes!”

Steve squeezed your waist, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “How ‘bout we get outta here?”

“And leave Darcy alone with these boys?” You raised an eyebrow at Steve with a smirk. “She’ll never forgive me.”

“Ehh, she’ll be alright,” Steve chuckled. “She’s got Scott with her. He can whack them with his camera if they get too rowdy.”

You glanced over at Darcy, who was trying her best to maintain her broadcast composure as she talked to the camera while Scott skillfully maneuvered Bucky and Thor out of the shot.

You leaned into Steve. “Fine, let’s make a break for it.”

Steve grinned, and without another word, the two of you slipped away from the crowd, hand in hand, heart in heart.

[kittycatvlogs24]

Fandoms I Write For and Rules

I write for...

Marvel:

Loki Laufeyson (all versions) Sylvie Mobuis M. Mobuis Natasha Romanoff Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) Thor Peter Parker (all versions) Bucky Barnes Tony Stark Steve Rogers Bruce Banner

Harry Potter

Golden Trio (Harry Potter, Hermione Ganger, and Ron Weasley) Slytherin Boys (Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, and Blaise Zabini) Pansy Parkinson Ginny Weasley Fred and George Weasley Luna Lovegood Neville Longbottom

The Arcana

Julian Portia Nadia Asra Muriel Lucio

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker Kylo Ren Rey

(I don't really write much Star Wars, sorry).

What I Am Ok Writing:

1. Fluff

2. Light Smut

3. (Also regular Smut)

4. Headcanons

5. Letters

6. Reactions

7. One Shots

8. Series

9. I am willing to include kinks

Note:

I am ok writing poly relationships

I write ships and character x reader stuff

For the character x reader writing, if you want a specific gender please mention it because I mostly write gender neutral reader.

What I Am Not Ok Writing:

1. Adult x underage is serious no no, will not do it ever 2. No disgusting themes involving vore nd such 3. Obsession, stalking, etc. 4. No incest!! (Including step siblings and step parents) 5. No forceful sexual contact 6. Will only do writings with consent!!! 7. No cheating! 8. No student x teacher/professor 9. No pain (rough sex is ok), piss, age rp kinks and etc.

Other Notes:

If you have any questions just message me personally and I will answer as soon as possible.

Have a good day and don't be afraid to ask me anything or make a request :)

Have a good day/night and stay safe!

[anika-ann]

EHHH THERE'S AN ASK GAME GOING ON? Hi Anika <3 (you probably know which pair i'm going to ask but Imma ask anywayy >:D C - Crying// U - Underwear // Z - Zones = for my beloved couple Attached Professor!Rogers and Reader <333

Oh Jam! I have no idea which pairing you were going to choose! (affectionate, so so affectionate 💕 can't believe you still love them🥺)

I also see you woke up today and chose violence. Professor Rogers approves.

Alright. Here goes. Answers to this ask game under cut (cause year, sorry, 18+ , very)

C - Crying (is it a turn on? a turn off? do they cry during sex? have they cried during sex? what was the reason?)

Our dear prof loves having fun with you, loves to tease and edge you, all smirks and smugness, but crying is a no-no for him. He had seen your tears before and they are associated with so much pain, yours and his, that making you cry is simply not on him mind.

The stupid poem slander after you started dating. Your father's harsh judgement. His own struggles after getting shot and telling you to just lose the ring if that was what you wanted. Just no.

He had taken the edging too far once, actually making you cry as you begged him and the way his body physically recoiled at the pain in his gut, the absolute dread and despise he felt was everything but a turn-on. He was the sweetest afterwards, a profoundly loving aftercare, even as you hadn't used your safeword and he most certainyl did not judge you; however he did cackle a little when you felt better about half an hour later and shyly asked him if he could finish what he started and get you off. He very much did.

He got extremely cautious after that; a blessing and curse, because he became the king of edging. He knows exactly how far he can push, he absolutely revels in hearing you beg and mewl sweetly; and to his shock, he found out he very much does enjoy the tears if they come after, just a few of them rolling out at how intense the release gets, how sweetly the relief tastes. He needs to be cautious to use his mouth or hands or toys to do that; if he was inside he, he'd lose it at the sight alone🤭✨

As for if he ever cried, it was once. After the incident with the ring and your reconcilliation, it hit him a few days after, when you made love again - that he really almost pushed you over the edge and lost you. He comes and the emotions just crush him; you hold him through it, tajen aback, but as gentle as you know he would be to you, your heart quiverring as much as his lips do for a few moments.

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)

Steve is a simple guy; you kiss him, a little deeper than usual, and he knows what you want and he's happy to hop on that train of thought. You rake your nails over his thighs - it doesn't even have to be the insight of his thighs - and he's getting putty in your hands. Expect for one part that's growing very hard. Speaking of hard parts, there isn't any more direct message than brshing your fingers right there, right? He is not immune.

He is even less immune when you climb up his lap and kiss his just about anywhere.

One zone that surprised you and actually took you a rather long time to figure out was his forearms. You genuinely didn't realize - it is most definitely a turn on for you when he rolls up his sleeves and shows off his hands and forearms and you just like running your fingers over it. You know he knows that a peek of his forearms, especially when framed by those sleeves, drives you wild, but what you didn't realize was that it was invitation for you to touch him and drive him just as crazy.

Once you know, you take advantage, alright 😌

U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)

Well you can be sure he has a thing for stockings and he doesn't scoff at other lingerie either.; but taht doesn't mean he cannot appreciate simple. Just because you look extremely tempting to him in lingerie, it doesn't mean he's mainyl interested in what's under 😏

As for his own underwear, he's simple guy. Boxers, usually in plain colour, no crazy patterns except for three pairs of Christmas ones you bought him. He can simp, alright; it just made you so happy and you bought matching pairs of panties and it made him smile whenever he saw it on you. And you'd better believe he loves to match, tying yourself to you, even if you two are the only ones to know.

He had lost a silly bet to you once, resulting him having to wear the stupidiest most ridiculous pair of boxers on a day when he went to the gym and had to change in front of a few guys he knew. He was not amused (he was, a little, but don't tell anyone) - he however enjoyed taking his revenge.

What revenge, you ask? Well. If he's going in stupid boxers, than you're going commando to a dinenr with him with a skirt that barely reached just above your knees after he had played with you, teased you and left you soaking and unsatisfied. You could tell he was extremely cautious to make sure you considered it risqué but agreed to do it for the adventure though, because he's a little shit, but not a dick, definitely not to you.

He teased you all night too, even if with less direct touches; he was dlighted to see you still soaking once you got home, all happy to check for that with your back pressed to the door the second they closed behind. Check with his fingers and mouth. He cleaned every. Damn. Drop. And of course, rewarded you for being so so good for him🫠🫠

Hope you're happy with the answers, dear 🥰 Thank you so much for participating💕

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - March 12th

 Hello and welcome to this week’s recs! Lots of little fics this week--I’ve had a very short attention span and short little snatches of time. Anyway--enjoy and be sure to leave a comment/kudo for your fic authors! 

~*~ 

Oh Hey There by royal_chandler

Because it's just not college if your room hasn’t been the inadvertent destination spot of at least one intoxicated person.

Dare I Say Forever? by royal_chandler

Naive and young, Steve had thought about it. He’d allowed himself to dream of post-war, matching gold bands and a white picket fence penning in a rambunctious pair of children.

However, there’s no such thing as post-war.

Lose My Weary Mind by royal_chandler

It's not right. It's not right. But neither is his life without Steve.

Time Machine by ashes0909, HogwartsToAlexandria, Juulna, peppypear, royal_chandler

“You know, when I mentioned needing a time machine to fix the ills of my life last week, I didn’t mean it literally, Tony,” Steve sighed, albeit fondly.

Or: A night not unlike so many others.

Written for the Put On The Suit Discord Server Relay

In Our Bedroom, After the War by royal_chandler

It’s not to say that Steve had ever anticipated the culling of half the universe or its aftermath. No, that’s well beyond the edges of any damnation he could have imagined. However, when he touches himself in the new world and can’t find completion, he’s stolen by surprise, and then anger, that this too has been taken away.

Transient by royal_chandler 

There’s a 1A classification sitting on Steve’s bureau in his bedroom and he’s been so sick in his life, sick of many things; he’d like to no longer be sick of not having sex.

I and Love and You by royal_chandler

Tony should really no longer be surprised by how right Steve gets it. Even though he’s not really meant to add anything to this discussion he’s overhearing, he’s left speechless. He’s entirely overwhelmed by how much he loves this man. He loves them both so much it hurts, makes his eyes water.

Took All the Trees (And Put ’em in a Tree Museum) by youcancallmearrow 

Steve's homesick for the past and Tony can't cope with the present. Moving on is easier when you aren't doing it alone.

Featuring: Steve's super-secret weakness, the best cheeseburgers in America, and an awful lot of elevator scenes for a one-shot!

Trusting You with Lovin' Me by ralsbecket

“There’s a… neighborhood thing, later,” Tony said, waving a hand with clinking keys. “Trick-or-treating. Why don’t you come with us?” It was neutral ground. An open invitation. I trust you. I want you to meet my daughter hung softly in the air.

Charcoal Dust in My Eyes by betheflame, Nixie_DeAngel

Dr. Tony Stark teaches engineering at Stonybrook University, so he assumed his son would attend there. Instead, Peter chooses nearby Fallwell State and gets assigned Art Professor Steve Rogers as an interdisciplinary advisor.

If that wasn't annoying enough, Rogers' best friend Bucky happens to be the guy who Tony and his best friend Pepper have a bit of a history with and NO ONE holds a grudge like Tony Stark.

But then... Pepper tells him to stand down and so does Peter and what if Bucky isn't the enemy... does that mean he can do something about this crush on Steve?

Shaped for Action by royal_chandler

Tony buys a Camaro for an American classic.

You're In My Blood (Like Holy Wine) by royal_chandler

Being with a hooker was supposed to be easy but Tony gets more than he bargained for.

5 times tony indulges steve's strength kink + 1 time he doesn't mean to by meidui

Steve really appreciates how strong Tony is.

nobody saves me, baby (the way you do) by Capstiddies, meidui

“You’re a firefighter.”

“You’re—half naked.”

-

Steve fights fires and rescues kittens for a living these days because of course he does; of course that man doesn’t know how to properly retire. So now Steve has his firefighting career and Tony has a new complication in his long, winding relationship with Steve after parting ways without so much as a handshake.

Half True and All Stupid by royal_chandler

What it says on the tin. Tony bought Peter Netflix, and oh god why.

felt with your two hands by ishipallthings

Steve lets out an exasperated huff. “It’s just, I can’t shave.” It’s such a small thing to be upset about, and yet here he is, fighting the urge to tear his bandages just to look clean-shaven again.

One glance at Tony shows that he’s surprised by Steve’s admission, eyes now fixed on the days-old scruff covering the bottom half of Steve’s face.

(In which Tony helps Steve with shaving, and the close proximity leads to so much more than either of them anticipated.)

daynight, daylight by ishipallthings

When it happens, it feels completely unexpected and yet inevitable at the same time.

(A cool summer night, an accidental kiss, and a realization years in the making.)

Seeking Companionship by AvengersNewB 

The story of someone putting a personal ad in the newspaper, hoping to find a kind companion, who finds much more; everything he always wanted but never knew he could have - told all in letters.

----

I’m a man in my 30s, looking to be heard, to be understood, before being judged. If you’re a man with a big heart, and some time to listen, I’m looking for you and I promise to listen and understand in return - only non-drinkers. Write to PO 721.

Stained Glass by tourdefierce

Tony Stark was called a lot of things, but tender wasn't one of them. Too bad his super-hero boyfriend disagreed.

The Worst You Can Do Is Harm by theladyingrey42

So what if Tony Stark has a folder of pictures JARVIS recognizes alternately as Project Rebirth (when Tony's sober), Project Hero Worship (when he's tipsy), and Project Spank Bank (when he's drunk)? No big deal. Unless Loki destroys Avengers Mansion and Hawkeye ends up finding the damn pictures and showing them to Steve. And if there's maybe a teeny-tiny misunderstanding about why precisely Tony has them.

In which Loki is a dick, Thor is the bestest drinking buddy ever, and Tony has a hard time saying what he means.

We Are Briefly Gorgeous by KandiSheek

Tony finds himself in a gay bar right after signing his divorce papers, drowning his sorrows. Turns out the handsome stranger that chats him up is just the distraction he needs.

The Plainest Words Are The Finest by theladyingrey42

In which Tony Stark never ever, ever says what he means.

Except when he does.

[thewidowsledger]

Good Luck, Babe

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: College Student Natasha Romanoff x College Student Female Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, smut, ANGST, jealousy, cheating (we're cheating on Steve with Natasha), Natasha has a penis, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, car sex, mirror sex, hate sex (?), choking, slapping, dacryphilia, blowjob (Natasha receiving), breeding kink only if you dare to squint, Natasha fucking r like a guitar, if I missed something I am going to throw hands

Author's Note: I’ll be back in 3 weeks I guess, I already scheduled some chapters for my fics, one each week. For this week, I serve you this one-shot🤲💗 This is something I wrote when I was supposed to be studying, lol. The title says it all. I did not proofread this one and I decided to remove some parts because I feel like it's getting too long. I hope y’all are doing okay! Enjoy!

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

“I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

You furrowed your brows at her question, “Yeah, why would I be loud?” You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.”

⧗

You stirred from your sleep in the middle of the night, woken by the gentle sound of Natasha's snore. As you looked up at her, her auburn locks lay scattered, half-veiling her face in peaceful slumber. You gently pulled the strands aside, you admired the way her features were soft and unguarded in sleep as if she didn't drive you into the brink of ecstasy a while ago.

You watched, entranced, as the steady rise and fall of her chest painted a tranquil rhythm, like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

Her eyelashes fluttered softly, like fragile butterfly wings beating in the night.

Soft breaths escaped her lips and with each exhale, her warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, enveloping you in comfort and security.

Your fingers traced the marks that marred her otherwise smooth skin. There were long, deep scratches on her back as you clawed to her dear life when she rammed into you, bringing you both to the peak of your own highs.

Unable to resist the urge, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Natasha.”

⧗

Natasha was behind the wheel of her convertible and you were riding shotgun. You both planned to get away before the graduation, a secret escape for just the two of you.

Yes, it was a secret escape, just like your clandestine affair. For the past year, you had been meeting secretly, your passionate trysts hidden away from the prying eyes around your campus.

How could one imagine that the epitome of perfection in the eyes of many, from students, professors, and school staff had chosen a band guitarist to share your deepest desires and secrets with?

The fact that you, the student body president of the College of Liberal Arts, the volleyball captain ball, the campus' debate team leader, and the devoted girlfriend of the campus’ student council Steve Rogers has been in an entangled affair with Natasha Romanoff, the school's band guitarist, was kept strictly under wraps.

Only a select few were aware of the tangled web you both were weaving behind the scenes. A few that only you, Natasha and her sister Yelena know about the affair that you’ve been keeping closely a guarded secret.

With your hands held high up in the air, you relished the feeling of the wind whipping through the open top of Natasha's convertible. The rush of air against your skin felt incredibly free and exhilarating.

As you stood there in the open wind, blissfully unaware, Natasha watched you intently, cherishing the unguarded moment between the two of you. Taking in every detail as she glanced at you the way your hair tousled in the breeze, the sparkle in your eyes as you smiled and the way your pink sundress fluttered in the wind. It was in these small moments, when she could watch you in your carefree state, where she could openly watch you and admire your carefree happiness without the need for secrecy or hiding.

Unlike when you were on campus Natasha could only watch you from a distance. Whether it was her playing with the band during a night blast events your campus would trimonthly organize, searching for your familiar face in the crowd, or her sitting in the audience far enough for her not to be seen by you, watching you shine in a debate competition you joined.

Just for once, it's only the two of you, completely unburdened by your secret affair.

“How did your send off go by the way?” Natasha asked, as she put her hands on your lower back.

“As usual, every player, even the new recruits had to spike a ball into me!” you rolled your eyes in the air. You glance at the redhead who is staring admiringly at you, you smile at her, biting your lip when she slowly dragged her hand all the way down to the curve of your ass.

“Two hands on the wheel, Romanoff.”

Natasha chuckled, tearing her right hand away from you, you slumped on the passenger seat as she did so, “And coach just told me that Bishop will be the next captain ball.”

“She's in the same position as you, right?” Natasha asked, now putting a hand over your thighs, unable to resist the temptation to touch you.

“During her residency coach had to train her as an opposite because we had filled the quota for each position. She was originally middle.”

Natasha hummed at your response. Her fingers can't help but stray, tracing patterns on your thighs. Her hands begin to move of their own accord, sneaking higher and higher up your thighs with every pass.

Her touch sends shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers make contact with your sensitive skin. You can't help but let out a soft moan, involuntarily arching towards her touch.

“Natasha,” you warned softly.

Her gaze flickers to yours innocently but she doesn't stop, her fingers continuing to trace patterns on your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, “What’s wrong?” She watches you carefully, her hands pausing in their ministrations as she waits for your response.

“Stop the car,” you demanded and she didn't hesitate. Her eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, spotting an empty side street just ahead. She swings the car in that direction, pulling over and turning off the engine in record time.

She barely has time to register your movement before you're on her. Your legs straddling her, your body pressed close against hers as you take control of the situation. Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she grins, her hands coming up to grip your hips and pull you closer.

She trails kisses down your neck, softly nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, careful not to make any marks even though she has been dying to mark you—to make you really hers.

Without warning, she thrusted her fingers deep inside you.

“Oh, Nat!” You cried in pleasure as she drove you higher and higher. Her fingers move faster, her thumb applying more pressure to your clit. She can feel you trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I can't believe you didn't wear any panties baby,” she chuckled, “what if someone saw my pussy while you stood there in your seat huh?”

“I-I, I—”

“Close baby?” She smirked on your neck, she added another finger curling in your tight walls that made you gasp and buck harder towards her digits.

“Nat, I’m gon’, I’m gonna…” you trailed off, finally hitting the peak of your orgasm. You chased your own breath when Natasha pulled you into a deep kiss and you let her dominate you again as she pushed her tongue onto yours.

She smirked at you as she pulled away, “You always loved quickies, baby.” She teased, licking her digits that were coated with your arousal.

You hummed, placing your forehead on hers, “Because that's what only we can afford.” You said in a small voice, your breath fanning over her mouth.

“Not now though, we have all the time in the world.” Natasha replied as she stroked your cheek, the pain was evident in her voice as she spoke. You both never really had time alone inside the campus without prying eyes or suspicions of others. The only time you have is this, when you two would plan a night out every month or when Natasha would occasionally do late-night visits where she would sneak into your dorm and the two of you would spend the night making love to each other.

“That’s the thing, Nat. We’re on our way back to the world, the real world,” you kissed her neck all the way up to her jaw and to her lips. You eyed her and kissed her nose before moving away from her lap back to the passenger seat.

The drive to the campus’ dorm complex was quick just like the quickie you had half an hour ago. Natasha pulled the car to a quiet secluded area and got out of her car. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Natasha asked as she opened the passenger door, you stepped out with your training bag that you brought with you.

“Steve will pick me up tomorrow,” you said as you looked at her, you placed a kiss on her cheek, “But I for sure will see you tomorrow, alright?”

You and Natasha had agreed upon certain rules during the course of your…affair and one of those rules was that you would never mention your boyfriend's name when she was present. In this moment, however, you inadvertently forgot about this rule and his name slipped from your lips without a second thought.

Natasha just concealed her jealousy and aching heart but when you softly leaned on her, your head comfortably resting on her shoulder it was quick to soothe her. She then asked, “You don't want me to accompany you upstairs?”

“I might not let you go if I let you come with me.” You confessed but the redhead knew this too. Your eyes, however, betrayed your hidden desires, silently pleading with her to disregard any resistance and come to the dorm with you.

“Baby, don't give me those eyes,” Natasha softly whined.

You chuckled and painfully tore yourself away from your secret lover, “Good night, Nat.”

⧗

It is Tony's tradition to host a party before the school year comes to a close and has become a much-anticipated event in your campus. But this year the party held a somber undertone as it marks the end of the journey for your entire batch. Tomorrow is your graduation day and everyone will finally embark on different paths. So this night will hold a memory for all of you as you hold a bittersweet celebration bidding farewell to school days and the journey you had together.

Your boyfriend, Steve, just picked you up at your dorm and as soon as you arrived at Tony's place, your eyes scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of your secret lover. Despite Steve's firm grip on your hand, your attention was elsewhere, the need of seeing your secret lover making your heart skip a beat. You tried to remain composed, pretending to engage in conversation with Steve.

“I finished my graduation speech, love,” he told you, his voice cutting through the loud party music. Your mind was preoccupied with searching for your secret lover and you only half-listened to his words, caught up in your own thoughts.

“What? Sorry baby,” you apologized, your attention finally shifting to him.

“I said,” he held both of your hands and pulled you closer to him, eager to pull you away from whatever is distracting you, “I just finished my graduation speech,” he whispered to your ear.

You smiled, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek proudly, “My council president.” Eyes shining with pride and happiness for him—genuinely.

Steve is a quintessential all-rounder; a true gentleman who excelled academically and was a beacon for the students as he is the student council president.

He is a good boyfriend too. He was consistent in picking you up from your classes, walking you back to your dorm. You couldn't help but notice that he possessed a mildly possessive nature, because he seemed to want to keep you shielded, no, away from the outside world because your life just revolves around the campus, gym, organization faculty, and dorm and your boyfriend made sure of that.

Whenever you attended training, tune ups or participated in debates, Steve is always there, observing and sometimes engaging in your activities. He had a subtle ego, where he'd train you, play as your opponent during debates and literally break you, pushing you through your limits because he told you that he wants you to do good, do better—he wants you to win.

He doesn't want losers and he always wins and you knew that the day he won your “yes” when he asked you on a date—he always gets what he wants—he always wins and everytime you let him.

“Stop giving Y/N those blue gooey eyes, Rogers,” Tony's joke broke the moment between you and Steve as he offered drinks. “Lovebirds, drinks?” You cringe at his words, it doesn't feel right to you.

Steve accepted a cup for himself but when you were about to get one for yourself he swiftly interjected, shielding your hand away from the tray declining the offer on your behalf. You gave Tony a strained smile, “I’m good, Tony, thanks.”

How did you even bother to get one when he never lets you drink alcohol or engage in any activities he deemed unsuitable for himself when you were out together? You often felt trapped and restricted, as if you could never truly enjoy yourself when you’re with him. He constantly kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring your compliance to his rules—making you feel constantly monitored and controlled like right now you’re basically trapped and isolated in the corner, his towering body shielding you away from the crowd in the party.

Sure, he is a good boyfriend.

“Stop, fucking in the corner blondie!” You heard his friend Sam shout at the distance and Steve just gave him a finger but still facing you.

Steve is never the one who fucks around, he always maintained decency and in fact—he is a celibate and no one knew actually—just you. It was an agreement to the both of you when your relationship began which you completely agreed and respected but what he didn't know was that you were secretly breaking that agreement by satisfying your desires every night with your secret lover.

And your secret lover, concealed by the presence of others at the party, watched despite Steve's imposing frame blocking her view. She watched as you laughed at his words and planted a kiss on his cheek every now and then. She watched Steve as he wrapped your hands around his neck, you looked happy—too happy she thought, considering she knew the truth about your secret. And the secret in question? Is her.

She clenched her jaw as you placed a final, chaste kiss on Steve's cheek, she almost lost it when your boyfriend tried to attempt to kiss your mouth but you gently stopped him by placing a finger on his lips, keeping him at bay and chuckling slightly as you finally walked away from him and from the crowd of the party.

⧗

You managed to convince Steve that you could make it back to your dorm alone, insisting that you'd see each tomorrow at graduation rites. Steve begrudgingly agreed, though you could tell he really wanted to walk you back as he usually did.

As you walked back to your dorm complex in the chill of the night, the absence of your secret lover weighed heavily on you. You didn't see a glimpse of the redhead tonight, she was nowhere to be seen at the party, leaving you to wonder where she disappeared to.

You took a deep breath before opening the door of your dorm only to be greeted by none other than your secret lover who you have been looking for the whole night.

“Out early in the party huh?”

You bit your lip pretending to not be shocked by her presence, you forgot that she had duplicated your dorm key, “I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

You furrowed your brows at her question, “Yeah, why would I be loud?” You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.” She stepped forward and grabbed your hips, you sucked in a little breath as she inhaled in your neck. “So tell me, will you be loud for me? Y/N? Will you…scream my name?” She husked, her breath warm against your skin.

You turned to her, green orbs dilated as you looked straight at her eyes.

“Don’t I?” You whispered in a very dangerous tone as you ran your thumb against her lips, “always,” you caressed her cheek and traced your fingers along her tense jawline, “scream your name?”

A growl ripped out through her, she immediately grabbed your hips and turned your back on her front. Her lips found your neck and she sucked and bit gently, leaving a faint mark. With a swift movement, you yelped a little as Natasha pulled your left leg up, causing your skimpy dress to roll up even further. Her hand instinctively went up to the back of your thigh, gripping it tightly.

You didn't notice that you were both facing your vanity mirror. Natasha's eyes darkened while yours widened as you looked at your reflection through the mirror. Natasha's right hand sneaks through your panties, finding its way to your core. She begins to rub gentle circles, causing you to gasp and lean back against her.

“Fuck!”

Natasha's left hand grips your thigh with the same precision and strength as when she holds her electric guitar during their gigs. Meanwhile, her right hand continues to strum your core like how she played a wild solo on her guitar.

She was the artist and you were the art.

“Oh yes, yes ah!”

Your moans fill the air, her fingers moving with a skilled rhythm that could make any musician jealous. To her, your moans and the sloppy sound of your pussy are like music to her ears, a symphony of pleasure that she herself is producing. Your moans crescendo, becoming louder and more frequent as she pushes her fingers in and out of you while her thumb continues to strum your clit. Your moans are like a song she is composing right this moment and the only lyrics is her name.

“Natasha!” You moaned out in pleasure.

Her breath hitches as she continues to pleasure you. She leans in close to your ear again, her voice a low purr. “Open your eyes and look in the mirror.”

You hazily opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was her smokey eyes filled with lust, desire, and pleasure. You then dragged your gaze down to her digits disappearing inside your cunt—the sight only brought you closer to the edge.

“C-cum—please let me cum,” you whined, a tear falling down your cheek. You can feel her lips curling into a predatory smile on your neck as she hears your plea. She doesn't respond with words, instead choosing to increase the tempo of her fingers.

“Only if you open those pretty eyes of yours and look at the mirror, detka.”

You squeezed your eyes shut before managing to open them again, looking straight at her through the mirror.

“Come and scream my name.”

“Oh f—fu—Natasha!”

You finally fall over, throwing your head back on her shoulder, a triumphant cry escaping your lips as she feels your body tremble against her. As the waves of pleasure subside, Natasha removes her fingers and you watch her in the mirror as she brings them to her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied purr. She immediately catches your trembling body, still recovering from your orgasm, she then carries you into a bridal style and gently places you to the bed.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hummed pulling her by her leather jacket, “Please stay, Natty.”

Natasha watches as your eyes flutter closed, she carefully extracts herself from your embrace, but you cling to her, your grip tightening on her jacket. Natasha pauses, her heart heavy in her chest as she looks down at your sleeping form. She knows she had planned to talk to you tonight, to finally come clean about her feelings, but now that the moment is here, she can't just bring herself to wake you up.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. She remembers the first time she saw you, how easy it was to slip into her role as a recluse and simply observe. You were the most popular student on campus, an achiever, the captain ball, always surrounded by a group of admirers. It made it all too easy to keep her feelings under wraps. That's why she couldn't believe the moment her sister told her that you wanted to meet her and it ended up with you in her car, begging her to let you come.

It wasn't long before things took a turn. You would find yourself asking her to come to your dorm after your classes were over, even if Natasha’s class isn't, she would immediately have an early out just to go to you only for the two of you to spend the night relentlessly fucking each other until neither of you could move anymore.

One time her sister brought her to your game. And she saw you struggling to keep up with the rest of your team—having a bad day to play. She watched you go to Steve and how he threw you your towel and handed you your tumbler being the supportive boyfriend that everyone thinks he is when he is acting like an entitled self-proclaimed coach just watching you, not even cheering or hyping you up.

And before she knew it, when you walked towards where she sat during the game completely shocked at her presence, she leaned enough for everyone not to notice—she offered to fuck you as a reward if ever you win the game. Only if she knew that you have a game, she would bring everything she thinks you might need, she’ll bring you a jug of water, different colors of kinesiology tape, hell, she would buy you new shoes. But right now motivation is all she can offer because it's too high of a risk if she did all these things.

It was the first time she had seen you play because it was one of your rules, for her not to show up whenever you're in a competition, games, tune ups or in an event organized by you or your organization. You had explained to her that you preferred to keep things hidden, no, low-key, to avoid attracting unwanted attention that could arise from others noticing the two of you. She agreed, not even thinking a bit of it because she wanted you safe as you hold a lot of titles in you. She doesn't want to ruin your image though it breaks her heart not being able to watch you win and be successful in each game or competition.

Would that still be important if after you win it was her you would spend the night with where she’ll see you in all your glory as she makes you feel like a champion once more?

At first, keeping your affair a secret had been easy. It was a necessary precaution, one that she understood and respected. But as time went on, Natasha found herself yearning for more.

Sometimes she wishes she would be the one you’re running to after you won a game. She wanted to be able to cheer you on from the sidelines as you won game after game, competition after competition, events after events. She wanted to be there every time you win and every moment of loss—she’ll be there no matter what.

But that will happen anymore, Natasha could already feel the weight of the unknown future bearing down on her. This was it, the moment she had both been looking forward to and dreading. You two are graduating tomorrow, new chapters, new beginnings and things aren't still settled for the both of you, you never opened up, you never told her where you stood in this…clandestine affair.

And that made her want you more. She yearned to be by your side, proudly and openly. She craved for the day when she didn't have to hide her feelings for you or keep her presence a secret. She hoped for the day when she could stand beside you, not as a shadow, not a secret but as a partner—your lover.

Is that too much to ask for?

⧗

The sun was beating down on the graduates and their families, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they chatted and laughed, snapping pictures and the students—graduates hugged each other tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they said their goodbyes.

Natasha's eyes frantically searched for you. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her trencher, every second feeling like an eternity as she scanned the sea of faces—and there you were standing with Steve and she assumed his family—deep in conversation and laughter.

In the midst of the chaotic crowd around you, both of your gazes met and everything else faded away—it felt like the whole world stopped and it’s just the two of you.

You snapped back to reality as Steve pulled you into a warm embrace and kissed the side of your head, his family looking on with teasing grins. But you couldn't help but feel a twinge of cringe because you knew Natasha was watching all this happen.

“Love, I’ll just go see my friends and Mom.” You said, pulling back from Steve’s suffocating embrace. You gave him a small convincing smile as you tried to get yourself away from the situation.

When he nodded you immediately excused yourself to his family and ran towards the direction where you last saw the redhead. Before you could even go away there was a hand who stopped you from walking-running, you gasped as warm and strong arms pulled you into embrace—not a suffocating one.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Nat.” You sighed, leaning closer to her. Her scent envelopes your senses.

You were suddenly jolted back into reality, and swiftly disentangled yourself from Natasha's embrace. You could see the pain flickering in Natasha's eyes as you retreated hastily. You despised yourself for causing her this, yet you couldn't explain your actions just yet. It wasn't that you didn't care for her—quite the opposite, but the fear of exposure and being not accepted prevented you from being out with her freely.

How you wished you could tell her that.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“Nat, I need to find mom, we…” you trailed off, unsure on how to tell her, “we’re gonna have lunch with Steve’s family.”

Nat's eyes searched your face, sensing the turmoil within you. She seemed to want to say something but held back, her silent gaze speaking volumes. You didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes and the sorrow etched on her face. You were all too familiar with this. So, you swiftly reassured her, placing a gentle hand against her cheek, silently begging her to focus on you.

“Nat, don't forget our week-long plans,” you reminded her softly, your thumb tenderly caressing her cheek. “I’ll be all yours, just you and me.”

Natasha despised how effortlessly you could coax her, and yet, she surrendered willingly as she always did—her love for you overriding all the resistance. Every time you whispered sweet reassurances and gave a comforting touch, she melted, her resolve crumbling effortlessly.

She could never say no to you.

Just as you were about to lean in to steal a kiss from Natasha, a sharp call of your name pierced through the air.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to see your mother watching the two of you, “Mama…”

How you wished she didn't see you lean in for Natasha and to alleviate the awkwardness, you introduce them both to each other.

Nervously, you began, your voice quivering slightly, “Mom, this is Nat…” you trailed off, unsure on how to introduce your lover because you cannot just introduce her as your lover yet since your mom knew about Steve and ‘friend’ just didn't seem adequate to describe what you shared with Natasha, not if you both know what each other tasted like. The thing between you and Natasha was too complex, too dangerous, too intense to be boxed into a single label.

You looked towards Natasha, offering a strained smile, silently begging her to make a good impression. Your mother was known for being judgmental at times, and the last thing you wanted was for her to disapprove of the person dearest to you.

Natasha took the initiative, greeting your mom, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” and she extended a hand. However, your mom's gaze remained fixed, her eyes honed in on the intertwined fingers of your hands with redhead. The subtle gesture didn't escape your mom's keen eyes.

Sensing your mom's penetrating stare, you quickly withdrew your hand from Natasha, creating a bit of distance between the two of you. Your mother seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality and reaching out to shake Natasha's hand.

“Congratulations.” She greeted with her unreadable expression and the redhead gave her a warm smile and thanked her.

“Steve and his family are waiting for us.”

You nod, acknowledging your mom's reminder before she started walking away. You turned towards Natasha and you found her looking down, she then handed you a box and whispered, “You should go.”

Despite the aching in your chest, you managed a feeble smile, holding the box she had handed you. It is a necklace with a guitar pendant similar with the electric guitar she's using during her gigs, “It's beautiful.”

No reply came out from the redhead and her silence is making you hard to leave, you longed to remain here—to embrace her. Your heart clenched in your chest as you attempted to suppress the tears threatening to spill, “I'll see you, Nat. Okay?”

Natasha stood there, her eyes fixated on you as you walked away. A soft whisper escaped her lips, lost in the air, wishing that these words are enough to make you stay.

“I love you.”

⧗

Two months had crept by since your graduation day and the affair with Natasha remained a secretive yet constant part of your life. The thrill and passion you shared with her continued to burn brightly, with neither of you daring to mention the status of the affair. The question of what it meant would remain locked away, hidden beneath layers of secrecy.

Not until you kept another secret from your secret lover herself.

“So when are you going to tell me about it?” Natasha's voice was cold as she cut through the silence, her anger barely contained.

You froze under her intense gaze, your body shaking as you fought back tears.

“I...I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Shaking her head, Natasha continued, her eyes flickering with hurt and anger. “Engaged? And you didn’t tell me?”

Your tears finally cascaded down your face as you relived the memories of four days ago, when Steve had proposed to you. How could you say no? He decided to propose to you in front of his parents and your mother. And the sickening weight of expectations and the pressure of you saying yes to him had overwhelmed you causing you to yield without hesitation.

Natasha had learned about the proposal from Steve himself and he had even made a joke about her reuniting with the campus band and playing at your wedding.

It was no secret because you were planning to tell her, of course you are, you were just looking for the right time but when she showed up at your apartment minutes ago, her intoxication evident in her glassy eyes and the strong smell of alcohol that hung heavy got to her, you knew—but you didn't know that it came from your fiance himself.

Natasha's voice cracked in anger and despair, “I did everything you wanted! I followed your rules, your demands. I stayed away when you asked, I played along to keep our…fuck!” She suddenly broke off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Relationship isn't even the right word. We're not even a couple, right?”

“Stupid,” she chuckled, “stupid! stupid, stupid!” Natasha unleashed a punch to each word, slamming into the wall next to her. You flinched and fought the urge to soothe her but she turned to you, tears streaming down her face.

“I played along to…” she choked back a sob, “to keep you!” She spat, pointing a finger on you.

Maybe it was too much to ask for.

Her words hit you like a knife to the heart, causing you to physically flinch. Your tears welled up and fell uncontrollably, your whole body quivering with sobs as you struggled to hold yourself together.

“Sorry.”

Your heart was heavy with guilt for causing Natasha so much pain. The single word didn't seem enough to fix the hurt you had done, but it was all you could manage in this moment.

“I just wan…” she breathed, “I just want you to be mine.”

“I am yours, Natasha.” You managed to immediately say between sobs, placing your palm over your chest emphasizing each word.

“Are you?” Her brows knit together, “with that ring on your finger?”

Natasha approached you and with every inch she advanced, you slowly retreated, your body moving back in response to her encroaching presence. Natasha finally stood close, her body towering over you. You could feel the heat of her breath on your skin, infused with the strong scent of alcohol. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath she took.

“Y/N you were never mine to begin with and I had to live up with that.”

You were looking away from her, arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a protective manner. Natasha's fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. Her touch was electrifying as she slid her fingers down to your arm, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“I chose to live up with that.”

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she took your engagement ring off your finger and examined it before letting it bounce to the carpet of your bedroom.

“Engaged, hm?” Natasha smirked, the pads of her thumb wiping the tears running down your cheek, “did you let Steve finally fuck you after you said yes to him?”

You breath hitched at the question but you immediately shook your head sideways, her hands slipped at the back of your neck and hissed.

“I am the only one who can make you say yes over and over again.”

“Natasha, y-you’re drunk,” you stuttered, you would never deny the redhead but you feel uncertain and scared around her right now.

She heard you but she didn't care, she then pulled you into a bruising kiss. Her lips were cold and demanding, silencing any further protests. She held the back of your neck tightly, “Shut up.”

She walked you backwards as she kissed you, the kisses becoming sloppy with each step. You felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees and as she kissed you deeply, you slowly sank down onto the mattress.

“Lie down.”

“Nat, please…we can talk late—” you were cut short when she shoved her forefinger in your mouth. She watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, finally giving up, your lips sucking gently around her finger.

You chased her finger when she removed it out your mouth then your gaze went down as she moved to remove her belt. Her movements were deliberate as she undid the buckle and pulled it from the loops of her pants, causing them to fall open with her boxers.

Natasha's hand wrapped around a fistful of your hair, harshly tugging your head forward and forcing you to kneel in front of her. Your hands instinctively held her the back of her legs for support, her length inches on your faces as if you knew what to do, your hands slowly reached out to touch her. You wrapped your fingers around her shaft, feeling its thickness and hardness, your thumb rubbing the tip with the pre-cum that covered it.

“Open your mouth,” she plainly said, a command rather than a request. Your lips parted slowly and without a second she pushed forward, easing herself into your mouth. Natasha's expression hardened as she gripped your hair, her hips bucking forward aggressively. She thrust into your mouth without remorse, tears welled in your eyes, but she remained unmoved, solely focused on her own pleasure.

She fucked your mouth ruthlessly, her thighs trembling with the force of her movements. Your nose was pressed against her pelvis, your eyes watering from the rough treatment. The only sound was the sloppy wet noises of her thrusting and your muffled cries.

Natasha was one to fight her moans and grunts back, but she was unable to hold them as she unleashed a thick, hot load directly into your mouth. The force of her orgasm sent ropes of cum shooting down your throat, making you choke and gag on the sheer volume.

In a sudden move, Natasha yanked you up by your hair, her cock slipping out of your mouth with an audible pop. She took a step back, leaving you panting and disoriented, your mouth agape, tears falling down your cheek, spit on the side of your lips and her cum inside you mouth. She reached down and yanked your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. She spat into your open mouth, watching as the saliva mingled with her cum.

“Swallow.”

She squeezed your chin, applying pressure until your throat opened up. You looked straight into her eyes, you felt the lump of cum and spit lodge in your mouth, and then you swallowed the liquid sliding down your throat.

Natasha released her hold on your chin and hair, her voice taking on a dismissive tone. “Bed,” she ordered, turning away from you to clean herself up. You scrambled to your feet, quickly making your way to the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin.

Natasha hovered on top of you, you tried looking into her bloodshot eyes but you couldn't see anything. You couldn't see her. Her eyes didn't sparkle the way it did when you two were making love…is this even making love?

You wanted to make it up to her, you wanted her to use you for what you did to her. For hurting her, it is all that you could do as of now—it’s all that you could offer. But you wanted her to talk to you through it like she always had, but right now she doesn't seem to care about what you need.

Natasha locked her knees on yours, her thighs squeezing tight to keep you pinned in place. She surged forward, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on her breath as she trailed kisses down your body. She then nipped at your skin, her teeth sinking in hard enough to leave bruises. Right now, she didn't care. In fact, she wanted you to be marked, marked by her and not by your stupid fiance.

“N-Nat…Steve might com—” before you could even finish your sentence, Natasha slapped you hard across the face, the sting making your eyes water.

“Don't fucking say his name when you're underneath me,” she snarled and as if losing her patience she harshly pulled you by your thighs towards her. Without giving you a chance to protest, Natasha thrust into your core with a ferocity you hadn't expected. You could feel yourself stretching around her, each movement of her hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Natasha folded your thighs towards your chest, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You eyed her, tears ready to fall down as she fucked you with reckless abandon. She was like a different person, all rough edges and sharp angles, her usually composed, sweet, and caring nature replaced by a harsh, uncaring desire. Her usually gentle features were twisted into a snarl, her eyes cold and hard, lacking the warmth and spark that usually dwelled within them.

You couldn't help but wince as she thrust into you again and again, the pain dulling the pleasure, yet you let her continue. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you bit back a moan, your mouth agape in a silent scream as she took what she wanted.

You

You tried to claw her back, but she was too quick for you. She wiggled and before you knew it, she had gripped both of your hands on her own, pinning them above your head. She didn't want you to touch her and the realization stung.

She then suckled your tits hard, biting and pulling on them until you cried out in pain and pleasure. The rough treatment and seeing you in pain seemed to turn her on more, and she then continued to abuse your sensitive breasts.

“Say you're mine,” at least just this moment.

“Natasha, I’m yours, I’m yours.” You moaned reassuringly—genuinely and you wanted her to see it, to feel it. “I—I'm yours, I'm you...yours,” you breathe, having a hard time to utter a word as she rammed into you.

Natasha's eyes become glossy again, she shook her head sideways as if she's trying to remove what you just said in her head that is now finally ingrained, she asked you to say it, of course you would say it back, but it sounded real and she hated it.

“You're not,” she slurred, “but I am going to make you.”

Natasha’s grunts grew louder, more primal as she neared her peak. Her face contorted, eyes screwed shut, and her movements became jerky, uncoordinated. She touched your lower abdomen to feel her cock bulging in and out. She was close, so close, and you could do nothing but lie helpless beneath her, tears leaving a trail on your cheeks as she held you down and used your body.

She finally let out a guttural growl, her body spasming as she emptied herself inside of you.

At least in this way she could make you really hers.

You jolted awake from the dream as the sound of your baby's cry made you alarmed. It's an instinct that you developed since you had your baby, whatever sound she made you'll be quick to get or coo her, doesn't matter if you're in the shower, cooking or asleep.

You slowly sat in the bed, wiping the sweat that glistened on your neck. You breathed in and out to calm yourself. It was a dream, just a dream, you're not new to it, it's same dream you always dream. It did happen but it never failed to visit—haunt you even in your sleep.

It was a dream but what you're living right now is a nightmare.

You looked over at Steve's body, deep in slumber beside you, the sight of him only causing a lump to form in your throat. The tears began to well up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, unable to bear the ache and guilt any longer.

You quietly moved away from the bed, the sound of your baby's cries growing louder with every step you took. Your heart swelled as you reached the crib, carefully picking up your child and cradling her in your arms. You gently shushed your baby, cooing softly as you fixed the red hair that had become mussed during her sleep, her little face scrunched up as she wailed.

“Shh, mommy's here.” You whispered as you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision to fight back your own tears.

As if she was actually listening to you, her cries became silent as her small chubby hand reached up, her fingers wrapping around the delicate chain of your necklace. She tugged gently and your heart skipped a beat as she pulled the guitar dangle free, holding it in her tiny grasp.

You gently rocked your baby, cooing soft lullaby as you tried to soothe her back to sleep. But as you looked down at her, her green orbs shimmering with unshed tears was looking innocently straight at you. Your heart shattered at the sight and the tears you'd been holding back began to fall, softly dripping onto your baby's soft skin.

“I love you, little one.”