#Roger Ce

[horsefriends]

Ajusco, Ciudad de México, México by Roger Ce

[dicapriho]

Chris Evans Steve Rogers AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018)

[krirebr]

More Than This Masterlist

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, the slooowest burn - See each chapter for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Series in progress

Related Drabbles & Headcanons

I Could Feel at the Time

Ransom's POV of their first meeting.

Ransom and Lola

Moodboards

Steve

Lola

[royalsweetteaa]

Hi! I really like your HC AU. Could you do one of how Cevans characters would react to reader flinching during an argument?

Oooh I love this idea! 🥹💔 Let’s get to it!

POV: Y/N flinches in midst of an argument.

Warning - The following HC contains: angst/fluff, comfort, reader has hinted trauma.

Steve Rogers

Steve would cut himself off and stare at you. “Doll, why did you wince like that?…did I raise my voice too loud? I didn’t mean to if I did but I….you know me…I have never and wouldn’t…” Steve begins to ramble a little with his words as he processes what just happened. “Who hurt you, my love? Please, tell me…I’m worried…this had to have come from somewhere, right?” Steve asks as he’s ready to receive an explanation while pulling you in to stroke your back gently. He listens, already plotting in his head to pay ‘someone’ a visit responsible for your trauma response.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom raises his eyebrows as he sees you flinch and he furrows, confused. “Kitten,…did you seriously think I was about to hit you just now?” Ransom would ask with his arms crossed. “…Do you think I would steep that low?” A part of him takes offense as he first assumes that’s the whole story, but the pieces pick up slowly that this could have come from a previous encounter. He sighs, realizing he’s handling this poorly. “Darling…I didn’t mean for you to react that way. I hope you’re not scared of me…are you?” He’s relieved when you shake your head, and he decides it’s best if you both take a break from arguing. He comforts you, reassuring there’s nothing to be worried about. He hopes you’ll eventually tell him and explain on your own why you flinched.

Andy Barber

Andy would shut his mouth the moment he sees you flinch, and he would stay still as he processes the moment. When he receives your look of feeling guilty, his face softens, “Oh honey…it’s okay, let’s stop arguing about this and talk about what happened, okay? Did I scare you?” He asks first, not wanting to put much pressure on you. He wants to know right away if it was him who had caused you to flinch, and he wants you to feel safe so he speaks in his most soothing tone. When he sees you’re not reacting negatively to his closeness, he pulls you in to an embrace, making you feel safe.

Jake Jensen

Jake would stiffen, wondering what just happened to make you flinch. “Are you okay? You just flinched as if I was going to…” his heart breaks in a million pieces as he puts two and two together. He carefully takes your hands to give you reassurance. “Baby, what happened? Was it me?…You know you can talk to me about anything…I’m all ears, always.” Jake would reassure as he makes you sit down on the couch with him encouraging a chat about it. This incident would bother Jake for a long time, and he would often catch himself in future mid-arguments asking if he’s not coming across as too aggressive to make sure you won’t react like that ever again.

Johnny Storm

Johnny’s sentence would die out the moment he sees you wince and ask, “What was that?”, distraught and confused. “Did you just…” he doesn’t complete his sentence as he flattens his hands and raises them. “Babe,…I’m never putting my hand on you…my parents, while they died when I was very young raised me good enough to know that’s never okay…I wouldn’t do that even if you called me names or cursed at me like Ben always does!” He makes light out of the situation to distract you and pulls you in to caress you when he sees a small smile form on your lips, already leaving you two to forget about what you were even arguing about.

Ari Levinson

Ari’s response to you flinching would be to take a step back and give space between the two of you. He’s encountered women with traumatic responses before and knows that to deescalate the trigger, he needs to show he isn’t going to do any harm, like raising his hand. He would then say to you in a soothing voice, “Sweetheart,…I apologize if I came off as heated just now…let’s put this aside and think of something else, alright?” He would then crouch down, look up at you and making himself small to further deescalate your trauma response. You would respond getting closer to him and come into his welcoming and warm embrace, as you know Ari’s safe. It’s all forgotten and Ari doesn’t see any point of bringing up the argument again. Your feeling of safety comes first.

Thank you @imyourbratzdoll for helping me out a little on this one! ♥️🥰

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[brandycranby]

ce characters when you've been going to bed too late (oh no now you're sleep deprived and have constant headaches)

it's me, i'm sleep deprived and have constant headaches.

steve: you won't sleep early? you scroll the interwebs even when he tells you in a very nice manner that it's lights out and time to snuggle? phone jail. you're not getting it back until the morning. "but what if there's an emergency?" well FRIDAY will have to notify you because that darn phone is going in the other room, yes he's being an old man about this but he's also squashing you like a fine weighted blanket so. there.

andy: bless his heart, he's also sleep deprived. and yet his stinky ass has the audacity to stand there with his arms folded, lecturing you on early bedtimes like you BOTH don't have splitting cluster headaches and an inability to focus. shame. go on, you're going to have to shame one another into showering and brushing teeth and getting into bed- no more emails, leave it- and finally, finally, turning the darn light off.

curtis: does this man sleep? by god he does. he has an illegally early start every morning so he goes to bed at 10:30 on the dot like an old man. that means he doesn't know that you stay up until 1, puttering about and doing whatever, tired but somehow disconnected from the ability to lay down and stop thinking. and this goes on for how long?? until he sees you frozen in the middle of the day, exhausted brain trying to catch you up on what you needed from the living room. then it's forced curfew. he points to the bed? you lay down. he's two hundred pounds, he'll make sure you stay there.

ari: another deep sleeper. you could watch a whole vlog next to him and the big lump just goes on snoring in his skivvies like an ol' bear. it's the hubris that gets you caught. a too bright scene makes you turn away and blink rapidly until the spots fade away... and you see ari staring at you, eyebrow raised, unhappy scowl underneath all that beard. ha. haha. oops. evening phone time is suspended indefinitely. it's going on the nightstand on his side and you're going under his arm, nose to pit, until you get a good night's rest.

jake: oh sweet fellow anxiety-haver, gamer, busy to-doer. of all these baes, he's the one who understands staying up for an hour longer, maybe two, just gotta finish this XML sheet or get to the next save point. but he's also an army man through and through. wakes up at 0600 hours (ew), goes for a quick run, jumps in the shower, makes breakfast all before you wake up. and you wake up slower and slower these days :(( so it's his new personal mission to stop at 11pm and scoop you up from whatever you're doing for bed time.

ransom: yes he gets up and writes in the middle of the night, sue him. it's called ✨inspiration✨ which is totally normal for a writer, it's better than writer's block and- hey! what are you doing up?? you're losing beauty sleep and he's slipping melatonin into your mouth, tucking you against his side, and rubbing slow lovely circles on your temples. you're no good to him like this, he scoffs, the house would probably get burnt down and you wouldn't notice. but he keeps tracing your eyebrows juuuuust right so you let that pass. for now.

---

get enough sleep, kids. head ouch.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: So That’s What It Means

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Steve finds out something he’s been wondering for awhile

Word count: 3,594

Content/warnings: Kissing, thigh grinding, nice det. Lang, mean det. Walker, soft!Decks, strong!Decks, mentions of death and murder, light mob themes, secrets, old ladies who love to objectify young men, swears, misogyny, pet name usage like one singular time

Author’s Note: Hehehe I’ve been waiting for this one. Turn it up!

I’d love it if you dropped a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think!! (Otherwise, I’m just screaming into the void by myself, which is fine, but I like it when the void screams back)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Just when Steve thought things couldn’t, they got worse. At least on the business end of things. Lloyd seemed like he was closing in. The previous death of that employee from his salon was followed by a string of half a dozen, all working for him and Bucky in different capacities. It included their civilian services, as well as those involved in the undercover operations. This was bad, and was only going to get worse if there wasn’t a plan to step up and put an end to the series of turf wars they’d found themselves in.

On the bright side, which still wasn’t technically great under the circumstances, all these occurrences meant he got to visit the precinct more and see you.

Yours and Lang’s desks were stacking up with cases. They all seemed related, but you weren’t quite sure how yet. And for some reason, you kept seeing Steve coming in for quick interviews. It’s not like you really wanted to complain, though. You wanted to see him, and you were happy for it to happen since this increased work load was making you too exhausted to do more of it outside the station.

As you were doing data entry in your lab with the door cracked open, you saw a tuft of blond hair move into your field of vision above your computer screen. A smile instantly graced your face, but you kept your eyes on the results.

“Steve. Hi. Get into trouble? It’s like you’ve got permanent residence at Lang’s desk.”

Steve laughed and came in, closing the door behind him. “Eh, not quite, but if I’m being honest, as much as you know I like Scott, I wish I were here more often just for you instead of these unending cases. Speaking of which, you have a minute?”

You nodded, still typing on the keyboard while you listened to him. “Yeah, let me just get this in really quick, then I’m all yours.”

His fingertips tingled at that and a warmth rose from his chest to his throat. Oh how he wished that was true. He wished you were his, but more than that, he wished that he could be yours. All of him. But that wasn’t something he was ready to discuss yet. You knowing his whole self. Things were going too well right now for him to mess it up by dropping that bomb on you. It wasn’t the right timing.

As you slipped your gloves off and went to wash your hands, Steve locked the door behind him and took a step forward. You dried your hands and came over to meet him, looking up into his eyes. Oh how you wanted to swim in them; a pool of peace amongst the craziness outside. Despite how busy Steve always seemed, time with him made everything else go away.

“So what do you want to ask me?” You rocked forward on your toes, happy to focus on anything but work for a second. Right, that’s what it was, definitely not excitement to see him, even though your heart was racing and your legs felt restless.

“I wanted to know if you were busy this weekend. Maybe you and I could do something.” He looked between your eyes with a smile, but it was slowly falling in anticipation for your response.

You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Unfortunately, I am really busy this weekend. I’ve got some guests I’m hosting. But you’ve at least caught me right now. And I’ve got a bunch of free time next week. I can text you my schedule later.”

Steve nodded, leaning closer to you. “You’re right. I’m happy to at least have you for right now. Even if it’s just a few seconds.”

You couldn’t help the way your body was drawn in just like his. Or the way your hands traced up the front of his suit, which was honestly growing on you, the feeling of the expensive fabric surprisingly pleasant. Or how your fists gripped his lapels tightly and pulled him close, down to your level. Or the way your lips hovered closely to each other.

Steve whispered in the closing space. “Seeing you sometime next week for much longer would be great. You let me know as soon as you can.”

In your affirmation of his request, your lips brushed against his while his one hand snaked around your waist and the other came up to your cheek. Your fists grew tighter, needing him infinitely closer.

Normally, Steve would mind the potential wrinkles of his designer suit. He was wearing his favorite today, mostly because he knew he’d run into you. But if that damage was coming at your hands? Hell, that made it all better.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, which Steve took as his signal to do the same, his lips softly pressing against yours. The kiss was sweet and careful, tentative, yet venerative. It was short, and interrupted way too soon for your liking by a knock on the glass of the lab door, where you had luckily closed the blinds before.

The two of you pulled away with a breath of a laugh, looking down at your feet before looking up again with a smile at the other. Steve spoke first.

“I, um, I should probably go.”

You nodded, mouth still slightly agape as a remnant of the moment. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot of work to do. And you’ve got…”

“Meetings,” Steve finished for you. You forced a small smile.

“Yeah, always meetings.” It was true. Every time a moment was cut short, it was meetings, but this small talk was also so you could make it seem like you weren’t just kissing a civilian in your lab. Whoever was on the other side would at least hear voices, not lip smacking, although the kiss was nothing like that. Steve slowly backed the two of you towards the door to start heading out, but he still wanted to take advantage of you letting him hold you for as long as possible.

“But to double check, you’re really not free this Saturday?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m totally booked. But if I’m remembering correctly, I could probably swing something in the middle of next week. Like Tuesday? Maybe Wednesday? Is that too weird? I’ve got all evenings off, so any time that’s good for you is good for me.”

Steve smiled, or more like beamed at the thought of you offering up all your free time to him, but still spoke softly, breathily, a hand still on your back. “Yeah, that works. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” You didn’t even realize the way you bit your lip when you nodded, the slightly harsher sensation holding nothing to that of his soft lips. You were granted another soft smile under sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Goodbye, Sweetheart.”

Steve gave you a kiss on your hairline, reaching behind him and unlocking the door as quietly as possible so whoever was on the other side didn’t know it was locked in the the first place. Goosebumps took over your body at the whole thing. The pet name, the forehead kiss, the actual kiss. Luckily, they were under your lab coat, so he couldn’t see how much he truly affected you. Steve dropped his other hand from you, the warmth from them replaced by the air conditioned lab environment too quickly for you liking, before turning and opening the door. He excused himself to walk past the two detectives on the other side, Lang wearing a smirk and Walker, a scowl. Once he passed though the two-person wall, he turned back to wave goodbye to you with a wink and a salute.

You did your best to hide your smile at that, biting at the inside of your cheek and focusing on the detectives in front of you. If there was one thing Walker could do, it was kill a mood.

“Detectives. How can I help you?” You opened the lab door all the way for them to come in. Lang stood in the middle of the room with a file folder while Walker leaned up against one of the tables, something you’d told him not to do several times. Well, it’s his problem if a solvent eats though his ugly collared shirt, not yours.

Lang handed you the folder, still barely smiling at what he knew he’d interrupted.

“Got another case, Decky. Sorry to keep piling them on like this, but we just can’t figure out who’s doing all this. Or at least we don’t have enough proof yet.”

You grabbed the folder, flipping through the pages, before you dropped it over on the desk by your lab computer, the one surface in the room that was lean-safe, but Walker didn’t seem to care about that. You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll get back to work, then. I’ll let you know when I have the time to get though that.”

You gestured towards the case with one of your shoulders, but Walker slammed a fist on a table. You didn’t even care about his quick anger and poor intimidation attempt. He probably shouldn’t touch that surface with his bare hands, either, but you guessed he’d find his own punishment for it sooner or later.

“Is something wrong with that, Detective Walker?”

He walked over to you, his looming presence replacing the same space where Steve previously was, but this time it was much less enjoyable, so you took a large step back, holding out your hand. “Chill for a second there, buddy. Give me words.”

Walker huffed before looking at Lang, not even you. “Do you seriously trust her with this string of cases when she was just in here privately talking with one of our suspects? This case is important and I’m not gonna let her screw it up because she can’t keep her legs closed.”

That sent you over the edge. This entire time, Walker had been trying to undermine your abilities. He’d been doubting you, and blaming you for every one of his responsibilities that went wrong. And now, not even directly addressing you for the unfounded accusations.

“Walker, I’m sure there’s good re-,” Scott began to speak up before you cut him off.

“What I do in my lab is none of your business if I still serve you the data you ask for. There has never been a single occurrence where I’ve fraternized with a true suspect of an open case, and this is not me starting now. Plus, that is absolutely inappropriate for you to insinuate. Some of us take our jobs seriously and hold the law with regard. I kindly suggest you fuck off unless you want to know what the floor tastes like.”

Walker stood still, continuing to face Lang through your entire monologue, which may have been smart for him, because if he looked into your eyes, he would’ve turned into dust from the burning glare. Scott looked at you with a smile, content with the way you were able to shut Walker up and shut him down. He simply nodded in a thankful gesture, before guiding Walker out of the lab and giving you a thumbs up.

Before you knew it, Saturday was here and you were preparing to host your guests. You’d set out a veggie tray and everyone was arriving one-by-one until a single person was left to wait for. She was coming late, probably after dinner, anyway, so the rest of you got to it for a few hours, laughing and snacking in your apartment.

Steve was busy like there was no tomorrow, because if he didn’t keep working, there might not be. He was constantly relaying commands and shifting things around. The weekends were a busy time for him in general, so he was lucky when he’d gotten the time to spend with you before, but now it was seeming impossible. Luckily, he was sure he’d make it work to line up with your free time next week. He had to.

Steve was racing through city streets to another meet-up when his phone rang. It was Bee. She hadn’t called him too often at all. In fact, all he’d really been getting from her recently were short, sporadic texts. This had to be important, then, so he picked up right away.

“Hey, Bee, what’s going on? Long time no talk.” He was expecting to have a good conversation with a good friend. Someone he got along with, but she seemed frantic.

“Hey Steve, no time for formalities, I need your help.” Steve instantly locked in at that statement. Was she in danger? Why would Bee call him and not Bucky?

“Okay, shoot.”

“I just got off the phone with Bucky, but do you know where Decks is? I’ve been calling her all evening and she hasn’t picked up.”

He continued weaving, but started to slow down due to his focus on the conversation.

“Last I knew, she was having a weekend in. She’s hosting a bunch of guests at her place. Some sort of party I think. Why? What’s going on?”

Steve sent a short message to Sam to either take over or reschedule the meeting. If something was wrong or Decks was in danger, he needed to rush to her. Personally.

“Um, I kind of need her to clear her schedule for next Saturday to come back and win a game of pool.”

Steve wanted to stop in his tracks at that but kept going just in case.

“What? A game of pool? Why just for that? That’s so random. And even so, you don’t think you could win? Or me? I think we both could play pretty well.”

Bee laughed on the other end of the line. Sure, there were a lot of details she was leaving out, but there also seemed to be a lot he didn’t know for how much time he’d been spending with Decks lately. “Oh Steven, you sweet, naive, summer child. No, and I’ll tell you more about it in a second. But are you getting close?”

“Yeah. I’m in the car now. Just a few blocks away from her place. What does this all have to do with? Why does Decks have to play? Is she really that good?”

“Just move quickly. I need to know if she can do it because otherwise I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to find someone just as good. She’s actually the best. Bucky will fill you in on everything else, but the farm kind of hinges on it. And for your information, Decks is good at all games. I thought you knew that. She’s like, literally a pinochle world champion and a great card dealer and definitely would’ve beaten you at pool that night at the bar if she wasn’t trying to be nice. We used to always say she should’ve gotten a PhD in game theory.”

Steve was taken aback at the onslaught of information. “Wait a second, you bet the farm!? And Decks plays pinochle? That well!? Is that-“

He was sprinting up the steps to the apartment now, not wanting to take the time to wait for the elevator. He reached the door finally and knocked, faintly hearing ‘come in, Marge’ from the other side. Who on earth is Marge?

He cracked open the door to hear the loud sound of chattering, but not before he smiled at the vase of flowers sitting on the kitchen island. The ones he had sent the past week. His head turned toward the dining room table and all sound stopped as he was met with several pairs of eyes.

Steve gasped and dropped his phone from his ear in shock, seeing a familiar woman in a green visor at the table surrounded by old ladies, dealing cards. “Oh my gosh. Card games. Deck of cards. So that’s what it-“

He pulled the phone back up to his ear again. “Hold on, Bee. I’ll call you back later. I’ll take care of all of this...just. Let me tell her, okay? I’ll handle it because I don’t think I can get into the details without telling her everything. And I want it to come from me.”

He hung up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket before looking toward the table again with his grandest, albeit partially forced this time, smile.

You were focused on dealing cards to your game group, the old ladies surrounding you at the table like they did every so often when you had the time to meet up. A few rounds had come and gone, but your partner, Marge, still wasn’t here since she had a family event that she said she’d be coming from. That was fine, and now you’d be expecting her any minute.

You heard a knock on the door, which must’ve been her. Upon seeing the door open, though, you could tell it definitely wasn’t a little 70 year old lady with white hair in her signature yellow cardigan. It was a tall blond man about your age, decked out in expensive black material.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Your eyes were wide in surprise. He was on the phone, but promptly hung it up after taking a survey of the room.

The old ladies piped up. “Yeah, Steve.” “Hello, Steve.” “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

Steve sheepishly waved at the women sitting around the table across from you. You turned to your sides to see them all making flirty eyes, especially the lady sitting to your left who still hadn’t stopped waving. “Janet, hop off. He’s here for me.” You looked back at Steve. “Wait, you are here for me, right?”

Steve looked around before looking at you again with an awkward chuckle. He was still partially out of breath from how quickly he got here, but it was finally settling. “Hi ladies, um, yeah, it’ll just take a second, though. Can we talk in another room?” He pointed over his shoulder.

You nodded and took off your hat, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your bedroom, softly closing the door. You stood with your back against it, palms pressed flat as if when you moved, the ladies on the prowl would come flooding in to steal your man. Steve turned around back towards the door to look at you. “I’m sorry for just showing up.”

You straightened from your slouched position on the wall, placing a hand on his chest. He seemed a little stressed. “No worries, I just wasn’t expecting to see you today. Is everything alright?”

Steve didn’t want to ruin your day, so he held it in for now. “Um, yeah. Was just in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d take a chance and visit. I realized you’ve never seen it, so would you wanna come over to my place this week? Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday? We’ll play some pool? Bee’s asking if we can come back to the farm this weekend. Figured you and I could practice so we can win with our eyes closed.”

You laughed and smiled, leaning closer to him. “Sounds good. I’ve got this entire coming weekend off, too, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Probably a mercy schedule with the hours I’ve been pulling lately.”

Steve couldn’t help but lean in, matching you, as he nodded. “I bet. I can’t wait to spend more time with you this week, though.”

His arm was bracing him above you on the door. He knew he should’ve held back, not pushed it farther until he could lay everything on the table for you to see, but how could he resist when you were looking at him like that. Eyes wide and wanting, happy almost, even though he dropped in unannounced, something he knew you historically weren’t a fan of.

He was close enough to share a breath, so you leaned on your toes and were met by him leaning down. As the two of you kissed, Steve knew he should stop it in the back of his mind, but it all just felt so good, so he kept going, tongues dancing. He needed more, kissing down your neck and nudging his thigh between yours as you began to grind against him, gasping for air and moaning softly at the pleasurable sensations surrounding you. You wanted to keep going, too, until you remembered the several people just in the other room, waiting for you. “Steve, I, uh… as much as I really, really like this, I have some guests to host. Also, I thought I had told you this was a no-work-clothes-zone, but since you’ve got to go anyway, I’ll let it slide. Pick this up Tuesday?”

He pulled away and nodded, a somber softness in his eyes, taking in the last time you might look at him like this before he had to tell all. He loved the way your were poking at his suit jacket, playfully scrunching your nose, but still locking eyes with him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

You grabbed his hand and walked him to the door as all the ladies in your dining room whistled, and oohed and ahhed at him. As he stood in the hallway, the door just cracked enough for you to fit through and hopefully deter the wondering eyes of your card group, Steve left you with a kiss on the cheek.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did you catch it? Did you catch where the nickname came from? Yeah, I knew you would. Smarty pants.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[callalillywrites]

Surprising His Omega

I've been surrounding myself with so many wonderful alphas in one of my all-time favorite verses. It made me a little sad that I couldn't have an Alpha!Steve in that verse even though I adore my Beta!Steve.

So, I decided to make a new verse just for Alpha!Steve (Nomad look). What better way to debut him than with the lovely challenge of the Horny Hoes Hootenanny by the amazing @yenzys-lucky-charm and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork. I'll admit this got away from me a bit, but I do hope you enjoy.

Relationship: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader

Prompts Used

🍁 A: "Oh, come on, grump. It will be fun, I promise” / B: "What do I get if it's not?" / A: " What do you want?" (small tweaks)

🍁 A/B/O

🍁 partner plans surprise event/night

🍁 autumn Getaway

Extra Wheel Prompt: A Quickie

Word Count: ~1850 + Bonus at end (355 words; based on this post)

Summary: You've been feeling pressure for too long, and your alpha is determined to transform your grumpiness back into the sunshine you typically are. So, he decides to surprise you with a little autumn getaway.

Warnings: implied smut/allusions of it, grumpy reader, sweet and doting Steve Rogers, some spanking, some teasing, mostly fluff though, let me know if I missed anything

A/N: I wrote this story in a fit of inspiration. It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own. Please be kind as this is the closest I've gotten to writing smut in such a long time, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

It’s been a long month.

Between the heatwave that descended on your city and the trials and tribulations heaped on you at work, you’d hit your limit. Your usual sunshine demeanor has taken one too many hits until all you want to do is grump and grumble. Maybe hide away until life decided to be kinder to you.

But that wasn’t possible.

Your alpha would never allow you to wallow. That wasn’t his style.

Sure, he’d let you rant and vent to your heart’s content when you needed it, but he never let you stay low for too long. He needed and loved your sunshine too much to see it dimmed or diminished due to life.

No, your Steve always came up with a plan to bring your bright smile back on your face. He liked that bounce in your step and the cute wiggles you did whenever you were truly happy.

So, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise when he leaned in the doorway of your shared apartment’s living room. His arms crossed over his broad chest while he regarded you for a moment before saying, “Get up, sweetheart. We’re going out.”

You glanced at the smile on his face and burrowed further into the blanket covering you.

“No thanks.”

“Oh, come on, my little grump.” He pushed off the wall and dropped next to you. His hands made quick work of removing the blanket from you and tossing it across the room. He ignored your glare as he pulled you into his lap and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help grumbling, “I’m not a grump.”

That earned you an eye roll and a huffed laugh.

“I could smell your grumpiness from the hallway, sweetheart. So, get up. I have a little surprise for you. I think you’ll really like it. At the very least, it’ll be fun. I promise.”

You did like his surprises.

Yet, you resisted, which really wasn’t like you. That told you more than anything that you needed whatever your adoring alpha had planned for you.

It didn’t stop you from asking, “What do I get if it’s not?”

“Hmm,” Steve pressed another kiss to your nose this time as he considered you. A chuckle slipped out when you wrinkled your nose because of his beard.

You had to fight not to squirm when he rubbed his beard down your cheek to your jaw, little kisses and nips tickling your skin. It grew worse when his lips and beard found your mating gland. On his way, he made sure you saw the playful twinkle in his gaze.

His teeth nibbled along his old marks. Shivers danced along every nerve and had you unable to sit still in his lap. No doubt by design with the way he kept doing it.

When you made to get away, he tightened his hold on you but finally relented.

You gave him your best reproachful look as you crankily mumbled, “You never answered my question.”

“I don’t need to because I know you’re going to love it.”

Your look turned withering at his teasing assuredness.

As much as you wanted to be mad at him for messing with your perfectly acceptable plans to sulk, you couldn’t. He was a good alpha who always did his best to make sure you never lacked for anything, especially his love and attention.

After another moment passed in quiet, Steve relented again. “Okay, okay, beautiful. What would you want?”

Well, you hadn’t expected him to actually answer your question with one of his own. That wasn’t his style, so you had to make sure your answer would be a good one. It needed to be something you actually wanted while also having the power to surprise your alpha. If you didn’t keep him on his toes, then what was the point?

While you continued to ponder how to answer, Steve kept himself distracted by moving one arm so he could trace patterns where your hoodie’s sleeve had hiked up. His lips resumed their earlier teasing with little nibbles and nuzzles against your neck until you couldn’t take it another moment.

Gripping handfuls of his hair, you tugged his head backward until he could no longer reach you with those sinful lips of his.

“If I don’t like whatever you have planned,” you tightened your hold in his hair to make sure you had his full attention while also pulling a groan from him, “then you owe me one of the best quickies wherever you’re taking me. Don’t care where you do it or how, but I want you to rock my world in the shortest amount of time possible.”

His eyes darkened with promise at your words, but you refused to give into that look.

You arched a brow at him. “Do we have a deal, Alpha?”

The way you emphasized his designation worked the way you hoped it would. Another groan escaped him, louder this time while his lustful eyes closed.

“That’s a dirty trick, and you know it,” he growled, his voice low and almost menacing in ways that had you shifting your position on his leg. His hands moved to your hips and held you still. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel the evidence of your effect on him against your thigh.

If you felt a bit more daring, you might’ve teased Steve some more.

When he did open his eyes again, his lustful gaze met yours.

“Yes, ‘mega. We have a deal.”

He held you another moment before finally setting you on your feet and smacking you on the ass.

“Now, love, go and get dressed in something warm. You’re going to need it for the drive. I’ll handle everything else.”

You moved toward the bedroom but turned back. “Wait, how far are we going?”

“Uh-uh.” Steve shook a finger at her. “Not going to ruin my surprise, sweetheart. Now, go. It’d be nice to get there before it gets too late.”

The sun had gone down not long ago, but it went down earlier during these late Autumn days.

Within thirty minutes, you had changed into the warmest clothing you had within your summer wardrobe. It hadn’t been much which reminded you to dig out your winter clothes as soon as you could. The nights dictated warmer pajamas though the days still held a touch of warmth when the sun shone down on a cloudless, windless day.

Trading your cami and shorts for a longer sleeved shirt and some form-fitting jeans, you picked up the hoodie you temporarily removed and wiggled back into it.

Emerging from the bathroom, you spotted your overnight luggage sitting on the bed. Your brows rose as you took in the items Steve had chosen for you while including brand-new toiletries that he must’ve picked up on his way home.

You couldn’t help wondering how long he’d been planning this surprise.

The amount of clothing wasn’t much, which spoke of a shorter surprise, yet that didn’t mean much where your alpha was concerned. He’d once treated you to a week-long trip where he’d not only bought you new clothes for the week but almost everything else your heart desired. Steve loved to spoil you with the money he made, and you’re happy to return the favor in your own special way.

“Bout ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Just need to grab my boots from the closet.”

“Already packed in the car. Came back to grab you and your bag.”

True to his word, he strode into the room, zipped up the zipper, and lifted the bag off the bed. While he had only one arm available, that didn’t stop him from swooping low and lifting you over his shoulder. As the world tilted, you could still make out the chuckle that left him at your shriek, wholly unprepared for his stunt.

To pay him back, you reached down and smacked his ass. Once for the one he’d given you earlier and another for not warning you before turning you upside down.

“Save it for our destination, love,” he murmured, another promise clear in his voice.

At the car, he carefully set you back on your feet before opening your door and helping you in. With you secured in the passenger seat, he closed your door, opened up the back door, and tossed your bag onto the seat in quick, efficient movements.

He surprised you when he got into the driver’s seat and reached behind your seat. In his hands, you found your favorite blanket and draped it across you, tucking you in. Though, he made sure to leave a space for his hand to creep under the cover and rest against your thigh after he started the engine.

The trip took you both out of the city and into the Catskills.

Soon enough, he pulled off the main road onto a private one until you came upon a modernly rustic cabin. Steps from the unpaved drive led to a wraparound porch and the large front door. The outside gave you a hint of the luxuries and open floor plan awaiting you inside. Small electric lanterns sat in the windows, giving the place an ethereal glow.

As Steve killed the engine, he turned toward you, asking, “So, sweetheart, do you like it? It's ours for the weekend.”

“No, I don't like it,” you shook your head but met his gaze while a smile emerged across your features, “I love it. And I love you.”

You leaned over the console and grabbed his cheeks in your hands. Tugging him close, you pressed kiss after kiss against his lips until you were both breathless.

Steve finally urged you out of the car and into the house, handing you the key to the front door. He would follow you after gathering your things from the car.

The earlier hints did little justice to what you found inside, wandering about the place. Your eyes couldn’t take it all in. You couldn’t help noticing how your surroundings were erasing the grumpiness that had weighed you down these past weeks.

When warm hands gripped your hips, you didn’t even startle. No, you melted into the solid chest at your back and let your alpha hold you for several precious moments.

“Happy?” he murmured in your ear.

You hummed your answer.

“That’s good, love,” he suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you towards one of the doors down the hallway, “but I’m certain I can make you much happier in, say, five minutes. Is that too long for a good quickie?”

“But, I didn’t win our deal,” you couldn’t help spluttering though your thighs had already begun to rub together.

Steve merely grinned down at you. “Seems to me you did. I promised you’d like it. Love is not like, so I’ve got some making up to do. After your quickie is done, I’m going to make sure you’re properly fed, then I’m going to take my time tonight until you no longer remember your own name. How does that sound?”

“You can do whatever you want, Alpha. I’m at your command.”

Bonus:

Long after Steve had you forgetting your name, he had you spread across him. His hands ran up and down your back in soothing caresses while he pressed kisses to your hair every so often. Your heartbeat slowed to match his.

"What happened at work to have you at your grumpiest today, sweetheart?"

Heat suffused your cheeks as the memory came back. You did your best to hide your face in his neck. Maybe if you could distract him with a few strategic nuzzles and nips, then you could try to forget.

He wouldn't be distracted.

Lifting your face up by your chin, he kept his sharp, knowing gaze on you until you broke, whispering, "I had to write a company-wide memo. In the span of three paragraphs, I couldn't type hope to apparently save my life."

That got you an eyebrow lift.

Knowing your alpha he wouldn't let you get away with explaining further, so your cheeks heated more as you grumbled, "I kept typing hoe instead of hope. Happy now?"

Steve didn't say anything at first.

His brows rose though.

Then, his shoulders shook, and your head dropped back to hide your face in his neck. A groan slipped past your lips.

"Oh, sweetheart." His laughter escaped him then.

You grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, grousing, "It's not funny. Do you know what would've happened if my boss hadn't proofread it before it went out? I'm still embarrassed it happened at all."

Steve's hands came up in a surrendering gesture even as his laughter continued to escape in chuckles now and again.

"My poor 'mega, has your alpha not been taking good enough care of you?" His voice dropped to a husky timber that never failed to send a shiver of promise down your spine.

You glared at him though a smile did peek through. "My alpha takes very good care of me, but I wouldn't mind being reminded again how good that care is."

His scent thickened with his desire as he shifted until you were under him. His beard tickled your ear. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart."

*****

Main Masterlist

If you've read this far, you are absolutely my favorite. I'm opening up requests to write a few more stories for the Horny Hoes Hootenanny. Send me a few prompts from the masterlist, and I'll see what I can do.

*Now, I'm a fluff writer by nature and haven't yet ventured into the realm of smut writing. I'm working on getting there, so please bear that in mind if you do request something. Depending on the request, I might be persuaded to hint or imply such smut, but I can't guarantee I'll go in full detail.

[carbone14]

Jean Rogers alias Dale Arden dans la série Flash Gordon - 1936

[horsefriends]

Ajusco, Ciudad de México, México by Roger Ce

[dicapriho]

THE AVENGERS (2012) dir. Joss Whedon

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

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[evilhorse]

The gloves are off, n’est-ce pas?

(Captain America #252)

[brandycranby]

literally crawling out of my skin today so here's all the things i want to stim on - ce characters version.

curtis: his wool coat, not my favorite texture to wear but its nice and rough, wanna drape it over my head and be in the dark. 😶‍🌫️ touch the beanie, following the ribs and then running my nails perpendicular so it makes the zz zz sound. his buzzcut and beard, running my hands over that like a fidget toy. shmelling him, big sniffs 🫠

jake: his chin!! his chinny chin chin wanna lay on his chest and put my ear next to his goatee while i play w it ✨️asmr✨️ tattoos tracing 💕 no thoughts only that weird bull/taurus on his shoulder and others he might have picked up in the service. hehe is he ticklish? we'll find out

steve: arm 😐 bichep 😐 chewing him, biting him very gently 😐 i think it'd be ok if i did it kinda hard too idk steebie is tough... a little masochistic maybe... wont mind if i gnaw like the hamster. would also like to sniff snorff, think he would smell very clean like laundry. reset the brain.

ari: beard beard beard beard rub rub rub scratch fluff nuzzle sneef lemme go crazy on him and then get crushed to death with a bear hug please compress all the feeling out of me. smells very good big sniffs 😣 hides in his flannel, no light good

andy: get rid of tie.. and button up 🥺 looking makes me overstimulated. touch the beard, touch the quiff, brushie brushie. lay head on shoulder and be rubbed on the back, sneef sneef the cologne smell in a quiet room 😖

ok thats all the brain power i have in me. gonna go blanket burrito myself and sniff a candle. 💕💕 feel free to reblog and add your own stims.

[bigtreefest]

Which babe would be the most likely to say they’re proud of you? Say you just got a job, or you did something scary, or you’re just plain existing.

[dbphantom]

watching loguetown with my best friend (2nd buddy im doing a full watch thru with lol) and this fucking image. anyway, he's convinced dragon is Literally God and i-

[moleshow]