#featuring: everyone loves making Roger uncomfortable

[softevnstan]

pairing. college!steve rogers x gender neutral! reader

summary. your best friend, steve rogers, is a goody-two-shoes boy through and through. there's always been rumors, but you know steve. and you know the most he's ever been up for with a gal was a peck on the cheek. he always tells everyone he's waiting for the right partner. well, apparently steve wants to learn how to kiss and you have some experience. naturally, things get a little interesting.

warnings. no specific gendered terms here; things do get a little heated but there's no sex or gendered bits mentioned. this is relatively tame and idk what else that might need to be here. kissing, everyone featured is 18+. y/n and steve are slightly buzzed. steve's praise kink (if you squint).

a.n. ok so i was listening to kiss me the whole time and just... do it. please. it enhances the immersion. god why can't i be in an 80s college love story, i deserve it. i'll do a part 2 (where things get way more interesting if yknow what i mean) if you guys want, just let me know.

w.c. 2.7k holy cow

“Excuse me?” The words come choked out from your lips, disbelief washing over you at the request your best friend had just made.

“I’m just saying,” Steve presses on, a soft pink dusting the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red. “You, y’know– You have experience with this type of thing. Everyone just thinks I do.” The last piece comes mumbled from Steve, his head ducked sheepishly.

Even now, you’re still taken aback by the proposition. Sure, you know that Steve was just about as innocent as they come underneath. But you never would’ve imagined he’d be there, both of you in your dorm room, him asking you to teach him how to kiss.

You’d grown up with him, and knew each other like the back of your hands. There were countless times you helped cover for him - the first way you’d even properly met was at a middle school party and both of you had been locked away for seven minutes in heaven. You were ecstatic to potentially get your first kiss - maybe it was the countless grams of sugar in sodas that had you energetic or maybe it was just the natural excitement of a hormonal middle schooler.

But Steve had been scared. He’d been intimidated - poor little christian boy hadn’t had his first kiss yet and he didn’t want to waste it on some cheesy game. Not to mention Steve was already teased relentlessly for being such a small boy who didn’t have the best luck with girls (at the time, atleast - no one was ready for the way steve had buffed up towards the end of highschool; late bloomer, everyone decided when he’d finally grown into his bones and went from a boy to a young man).

‘Is it okay if we just say we did…?’ Steve had asked, sitting cross-legged in front of you on the bed of Susie, the girl you had geography with and whose parents were hosting the party. Her sheets were an ugly salmon with tacky pillows, and one of Steve’s nimble fingers was tracing one of the embroidered flowers in her covers.

Your disappointment was strong that night. The building bubble of anticipation had been abruptly popped right before you, and the mini-crush you’d had on Steve at the time withered knowing there wasn’t any sort of reciprocation. You'd had to physically stop yourself from letting your shoulders sag with the rejection.

‘Of course,’ you’d said with a smile, anyways. Steve was your best friend, after all. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, even if it did come at the expense of your feelings just a bit. Alas, you can’t make someone like you who doesn’t.

Being his friend was something you gladly seized the opportunity for - if you couldn’t be his partner, you could still be something to him.

‘Thanks… I really mean that. All of this stuff is so dumb anyways.’ Steve had tried to dismiss with a little awkward wave of his hand, and that feigned smile of yours bled into a genuine one. Hard to be upset with the guy when he was just so cute; Ocean eyes and soft pink lips that curled into a small smile, nimble fingers of an artist, freckles dusting his skin… You always saw Steve’s charm before anyone else ever had. Well, save for Bucky, his other partner in crime.

You’d both came out of Susie McCracken’s room, met by giggles and questions but Steve had just bitten his lips together and flushed while you’d lied for the both of them. 

‘What did you guys do in there?? Did you actually kiss??’ Bucky had inquired all too excitedly. ‘What else do you do while playing seven minutes in heaven, Bucky??’ you’d asked in turn, not a direct lie technically.

Bucky had thrown an arm around Steve’s scrawny shoulders and dragged him in.

‘Way to go, Rogers!’ 

You’re drawn back to the present moment as Steve looks at you intensely with those baby blue eyes. Only then that you realize he was still waiting on your response. That gaze burning into you, studying you made your face feel even warmer. The little puppy tilt of his head is too endearing; pulling at your heart strings. The offer is something out of a dream - and while you fear it may potentially alter the relationship you have with Steve, you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I don’t want to kiss someone for the first time and not be good,” Steve pleads his case, and it’s the childishness of the statement that breaks some of the tension inside of you - letting your shoulders slowly ease and you take an experimental swig from the can of beer that Steve had brought over per your request. “So do you think y’could teach me…?”

Steve, who was afraid of hardly anything, who picked fights with bullies and always tried to hold himself and maintain composure, now seemed so shy. It was endearing.

“Okay,” You say, with a click of your tongue. The reply shocks Steve; Causing him to jolt upright and straighten his back out.

“Really?” The word is breathless, and you grin - never pulling your gaze from Steve’s. Utilizing the moment of liquid courage to egg you through this.  “Really. C’mere,” you scoot on your bed, opening up a spot for him to come sit with you.

You watch as Steve picks himself up from the armchair, crossing the distance to you and only wavering upon actually having to sit on your bed. He sits on the edge as though he’s afraid to take up space, and you give a soft laugh. He’s helpless. Steve’s ears burn hotter at your laughter, but he can’t help but smile a little himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, big guy. Now c’mon, turn and face me,” your hand pats his shoulder, before letting your touch linger just a moment. Defined muscle even through his shirt; You’re not surprised but certainly impressed. It’s just a brush, really, and if Steve notices, he doesn’t say anything when he turns to lift his leg onto the bed. Folding his knee and tucking it under himself comfortably, he rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs.

You lean in, knowing that Steve isn’t going to do it himself. “Just… Be still, okay?” you warn, still hardly in the belief that the moment itself was true. You were half waiting to hear this was some strange joke. “Uh-huh,” Steve breathes, a little bob of his head in a nod.

He swallows hard, and you tenderly lift your hand to cradle his cheek. Palm flush with his warm skin, and your palm must feel cool because Steve shudders out a stifled breath through his nose. Without further delay, you lean forward. Tilting your head upward enough to catch Steve’s lips in your own; Pressing tentatively at first.

Steve’s lips are… Soft. Pillowy. Which is surprising, because when eyeing him a few moments ago, you were worried he might need some chapstick. Eyes drooping closed, Steve gives a slightly audible gasp at first before kissing you back. Leaning into the touch, his hand lifts and hovers a moment before residing to cup the side of your neck. The brush of Steve’s calloused palm makes you hum, feeling the warmth that wraps around the side of your neck and simply holds. Thumbing at the slope of your jaw tenderly while Steve attempts to mimic the way your lips mold into his.

You both linger there far longer than you’ll ever admit. Only after a moment do you part ever so slightly to suck a shaky breath in through your barely parted lips. Steve seizes the moment of pause though to lean in and press you two right together again. This time you pepper his lips with soft, repetitive pecks. His lips are warm and soft; you’re able to taste your shared breath between one another as you both return for more. Steve wasn’t perfect right off the bat, you noticed. Pursing his lips too much at first, but with the insistent press, he slowly loosened up to kiss you more delicately.

Before you realize it, the hand of yours that was holding Steve’s cheek was sliding back into the short spikes of blond hair. Your blunt nails rubbed soothingly at his scalp, drawing a barely there groan from somewhere in Steve’s chest. The taste of beer was prominent on his breath but not uninviting.

Warmth filled your chest, butterflies swarming in your stomach when your lips kept meeting. Again and again. But rather than find yourself fully entranced with the moment like you’d prefer to be, you’re committed to the task at hand. Teaching Steve. So when you press your forehead to his and just barely part your mouths, you take the moment to breathe. Let some of the air come back to your head and ease the high of the experience.

“Your lips feel soft,” you utter airily, lips ghosting with Steve’s and curling into a delighted smile. “When you kiss someone, don’t rush it… You’re doing really good so far - don’t try to shove your tongue down anyone’s throat or anything, okay? Kissing is… a delicate art.”

That makes Steve snort, stamping a soft peck to your lips like he’s trying to get right back into the moment.

“Hey, hey,” you softly chime in, stubbornly pressing your foreheads together to keep Steve in place. Licking your lips, you chuckle. “Speeding into things ruins the fun, you don’t have anywhere else to be, y’know?”

Steve’s reply comes in a husky chuckle. “Note taken – what happens if I rush things…?” Steve doesn’t rush anything, he’s the king of waiting, actually, but you don’t tell him that. “Might spook someone a little… You don’t want someone thinking you’re just trying to get into their pants, after all.” “Oh gee, definitely not,” Steve agrees softly, seemingly sobering from the haze albeit slightly.

Your fingers mindlessly scrape along Steve’s scalp, nearly earning a purr from the man. Watching him through half-lidded eyes, you decide to try your luck.

“How do you feel about more than just a few little kisses…?” You timidly try; Not wanting to press and come across as pushy, but certainly not trying to waste an opportunity.

Looking at his face, you find his eyes are still closed. Long lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, your stomach swoops and it feels like all of the childhood feelings you’d stuffed down years ago for Steve come bubbling to the surface. For a moment, it's as though the blond is in a daze before seemingly realizing he’d been asked a question.

Steve’s hand that isn’t cupping your neck, slowly and absentmindedly snakes to your side. Fingers brushing out over the fabric of your shirt, but still gentlemanly enough not to let his fingers go diving under to feel your skin. Even if it’s killing him not to in that moment. 

“Well, I-” Steve’s throat sounds tight, “ I need to know all I can, so…” You give Steve a barely-there nod that leaves your noses rubbing together affectionately. “Okay.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, hoping that Steve won’t be able to tell just how much this moment means to you. You kiss him slowly and languidly, Steve’s lips parting slightly to allow your tongue to slip inside. It takes him off guard if the stuttering in his breath is anything to go off of, but Steve follows your lead nonetheless. It surprisingly doesn’t take Steve long to start to get the hang of it between the both of you; potentially the liquid courage flooding through both of you.

At some point, you lose track of the fact you’re even supposed to be teaching Steve something. Both of you scooted closer together, chests coming flush and narrowing the room between the two of you less and less. Your fingers card back through Steve’s hair, and the hand on Steve’s hip gives a testing pull. Taking the next step, you move to throw your leg over Steve’s thighs. Sliding right at home in his lap, his hands greedily coming to hug your sides and draw you in even closer against him. It certainly made kissing significantly easier, even in the few instances you’d both pull apart to swallow shallow breaths of air before kissing again.

You’d slept with guys before, though. Had a hook-up once or twice. With Steve, nothing felt nearly as rushed or hungry. It wasn’t like he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat; There was a gentleness to it all.

When settling in his lap, Steve took the moment to pull apart with a breathy chuckle. “Is this part of the lesson?” Steve rhetorically asks, and your answer comes with a playful roll of your eyes. “I thought it’d be easier,” you answer, feeling obvious. “...But if you’re not comfortable-” “I’m comfortable.” Steve interrupts before biting his kiss-swollen lips together.

You take that as the green light to continue, arms finding a comfortable home around Steve’s shoulders. Running up into his hair and cradling his cheek, you pull him right back down into another languid learning session. Only this time, you decide to actually give him a few pointers.

Trying not to acknowledge the idea of Steve kissing anyone else like how he’s kissing you (hey, at least you got his first), you kiss him breathlessly all over again. Soft tongue, slow and taking your time before retracting long enough to take a soft suck out of Steve’s bottom lip. “Don’t be afraid to tease someone, make them want to come back for more,” you purr against Steve’s mouth, taking a playful nip out of Steve’s lip. Steve on the other hand let a groaning drawl out of him, fingers tightening where they hold your side and coasting down towards your waist.

Steve doesn’t question - instead takes the pointer as a challenge. Drawn back in for another kiss, he decides to give you a taste of your own medicine and you’re not ready for it. The tease of Steve’s tongue on your lips, him kissing you deep and molding the both of you together just to pull apart right when it feels like things are too good to be true. Taking your bottom lip between his teeth barely, he gives a soft bite before a soothing little lick. He’s getting the hang of it with his mouth and you’re floating on cloud nine; Squeaking out a noise that you’d deny making if anyone asked.

“How’s that?” his voice is huskier than before; sending shivers up your spine and rattling you to your core. “G-Good,” you manage, swallowing and taking a moment to catch your breath. “Real good, Steve…”

That seems to do something to him, too, if the way he squeezes your hips are anything to go off of. His fingers flex tightly and he sighs out shakily before letting some of the tension bleed out of him and his palms rub soothingly instead over your hips.

High off the endorphins, you decide to give into the competitiveness in you. If you’re going to be the first one to kiss Steve, you want him to remember it (though that may be the beer talking). Nevertheless, you shift on your knees. Straddling his lap, you stand to lean over him and crush your mouth back to Steve’s. Nothing frantic or rushed, but you decide to take the risk of making things steamier. Hotter. Licking hot into his mouth, Steve groans; pressing hard into the kiss the way you do. Trying to combat you while his hands smooth down to your thighs. A delicious squeeze that makes you sigh through your nose. Brow knitting up, you give a soft tug at the back of Steve’s hair.

It earns a gasp as your mouths part, his head craning back. You take the moment to lean over him and press soft kisses to his mouth, taking deliberate time to give attention to his top and bottom lip; Trailing down from the corner to lavish the skin of his jaw in pecks.

“Oh God,” Steve sighs out rawly, and the words stab you right through the chest - it’s already seared itself in your mind how it sounds from Steve’s perfect lips. “H-How should I touch someone, Y/N? When I kiss them, show me how to touch them…”

And, well, you’d be cruel to deprive Steve of the answer. He needs to learn, after all. You’d be an awful friend not to help teach him.

[sunflowerdarlingx]

His Girl - Chapter Four (18+)

Hello lovelies,

This chapter is a little long but it's mainly a filler chapter. Next chapter will have a lot more interactions with Steve and hopefully a bit of drama.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading so far and for all the comments I have been getting. I really appreciate it and I also appreciate the patience people have had since I posted the last chapter.

Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader (she/her pronouns).

Warnings: negative self-talk,

MINORS DNI

Introduction / Part One / Part Two / Part Three

What the fuck just happened?

The question repeated itself again and again in her head while she stood frozen outside of the elevator doors. She was surrounded by black SUV’s and luxury sports cars but only one car in the garage had the engine running. 

Peter Parker sat in the drivers seat of a back Audi, patiently waiting for Y/n to get into the car. He was dressed in a black hoodie and sweats and his brow arched in the mirror when he saw her stand still at the metal doors. The confusion set in when he saw the deflated look on her features. He couldn’t see the way her eyes glazed over with tears from the rejection she just became subject too. 

He had to admit, he was confused when Steve got in touch and asked him to take y/n home. Steve had never mentioned anyone called y/n and he most definitely never mixed women in with his work. 

Peter moved his hand to press the little button on the door that rolled down the window. “Excuse me…Miss? Are…are you going to get in the car?” 

Rude. Why was she blanking him?

“Miss?” he tried again but still got no response. Peter knew Steve would be coming downstairs to head to Clint's shop and he was under strict instructions to get her home quickly and to make his own way over to the shop. It was all hands on deck there. 

When he still didn’t get a response, Peter hopped out of the car, “Miss, C’mon, we gotta get going”. The sound of the car door closing caught Y/n’s attention. “Right, sorry”.

It was like something inside of her clicked, the deflated look on her face being replaced by a rock hard stare as her jaw set. Y/n slid into the backseat and put her seatbelt on. Peter got back into the driver's seat and gave her a kind smile in the mirror. 

“So, where to?” 

Peter noticed the uncomfortable look that crossed her face when she gave him her address. He could sense her hesitance when she got in the car and he was worried that he was making her uncomfortable - he knew Steve would not like that. 

He decided to turn around in his seat and extend a hand to her to introduce himself, “I’m Peter”. His signature boyish smile took over his features and his doe eyes peered into hers.

Y/n carefully took his hand, her other hand tugging Steve’s hoodie down her legs as she introduced herself. Peter could tell she didn’t want to talk, it was late after all, so he turned around and started driving. 

Her gaze shifted over to the window and a million thoughts began to swarm her head. How could she be so stupid? Why did she let her instincts get clouded by his charm and good looks? Why did she think someone like him could like her? Why would anyone like her?

Tears stung her eyes as the negative thoughts filled her mind. She could feel the darkness beginning to cloud her self worth and she didn’t want to enter that dark place again after spending the last few weeks trying to crawl out of it. 

The ride seemed to last forever but she was home in 25 minutes. 

25 long minutes of belittling herself and reducing herself to feeling worthless. 

Peter waited until she was inside to drive off and once she was inside she found herself letting the tears roam free. 

She felt heartbroken, she was confused about Steve’s actions. She didn’t chase him, he seeked her but here she was, exhausted in bed. Tear stained pillows cushioned her head as sleep took over her body. 

Some might say it was an overreaction. However, the girl had just recovered from one brake up and the hopeful romantic in her let her guard down way to soon and the feeling of rejection consumed her.

_________

When Wanda and Nat arrived at her apartment the next day, they were greeted by a lump of blankets on the couch and the sound of the shower running.

They both froze at the sound of a broken sob as they reached the top of the stairs. The two women sent each other a worried glance before they ran to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

Their hearts broke for the girl in front of them. The steam of the shower consumed the room as Y/n sat there, her knees tucked into her chest as she let out a stream of tears and broken sobs. 

“What happened hun?” Wanda immediately opened the door to the shower and sat herself beside her friend. Wanda didn’t care about the water pouring over her, all she cared about was comforting y/n. 

The pair met Y/n in college, they all were on separate courses but all happened to be studying in the same area of the library one night. They all found themselves in a fit of giggles when a boy got kicked out because he decided to eat carrot sticks on the quiet floor by the librarian. Neither knew why they found it so funny, but they did and for the rest of the night they found themselves chatting and getting to know each other. They had been inseparable ever since. 

Over the years, it became clear that Y/n was the baby of the friend group. The term was only used in a positive way to show how much they cared for her like a younger sister (even though they were similar in age). The girls felt the need to protect her, especially when they learned about all of the shit she put up with growing up. 

Her friendship groups had never been stable. They learned of the way she was treated from being used to being humiliated by those who were supposed to care about her. 

Nat sat at the door and crossed her legs. “C’mon sweetie, what happened?”.

Soft cries left y/n’s lips as she told the girls about her night with Steve. She told them how perfect it was to begin with, how they spent time chatting before going back to his. 

“I promise, I w…wasn’t going to sleep with him” she hiccuped, “he was, he was just too good to be true, maybe i’m too easy? Is that why men don’t want me?” Wanda and Nat both shook their heads. 

They would never sex-shame her. There was nothing wrong with having sex with who you want, when you want, as long as it’s consensual on both sides. They both did it plenty so who were they to judge?

“You’re not easy” Wanda turned off the water and Nat gave her a towel before wrapping one around Y/n. 

“Yes I am” Y/n started to dry off, her mind going off on a tangent. 

“I’m a dumb slut…is that why the guys I want never want me? But he did want me. I..I swear he did. You should have seen the way he looked at me”. 

Nat guided her babbling friend to the bedroom and started to take out some clothes for her. 

“He looked at me so sweetly, he was romantic and…and he knew just what to say, what to do to make me feel good! He… I thought he liked me b..but he didn't”. Nat pulled a sweater over Y/n’s head and the tears started again. “God, he looked disgusted at me. His eyes were so cold, so harsh. Am I really that repulsive?”

Y/n looked up at both of her friends who shook their heads

“No!”

“Of course not” 

Their replies came in unison as Wanda brushed Y/ns hair after changing out of her damp clothes

“You’re the sweetest and prettiest girl in the world” Nat said and placed a kiss on top of her friend's head. “He’s obviously just a cock and you need to stay away from him.”

“I know what we can do to get your mind off him” Wanda chimed in and smirked, “girls day!” 

She tried to pull Y/n up but she went limp, “I don’t think i’m up for that Wanda” 

“C’mon!” Nat stood up and helped to pull her up into a sitting position. “Why don’t we go get our nails done? And then a massage and then we can go to the little noodle place you love so much?”

They always knew just what to do to make Y/n feel better. Wanda and Nat knew that rejection from those y/n got intimate hurt her a lot more than it would hurt most. It would drag up every single insecurity she felt about her weight, and she created a million reasons about why she was never good enough. 

Y/n was a hopeless romantic and put her all into every form of relationship she ever had. It was her weakness.

Y/n had never been more thankful for Nat and Wanda. They were her stability when she was away from her family who lived thousands of miles away. She would be lost without them. 

They knew the dark hole of lowness over the next few days would mean she would replay the night over and over in her head, blaming herself in various ways, comparing herself to unrealistic standards and creating a self-hatred like no other. 

After the pair came up with a game plan of how to keep y/n distracted over the next few days, they all set off to the nail salon. Nat furiously typing texts to Bucky the whole ride there. 

“Tell Steve he’s a prick.”.

_______

Steve had spent all night at Clint’s shop with Bucky and Sam working out their next move against Rumlow. The security cameras caught him and his men entering the shop before they cut out, all damage unrecorded for them to see who to torture the most. 

Steve was raging, Bucky was furious and Sam had a headache from working on the numbers all night. 

None of them had slept, each of them on and off the phone with different members when they moved around the assets before all attending a meeting at Steve’s home. 

Steve drove to his home with Bucky in the passenger seat and Sam in the back. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he looked down at his phone. 

“What did you do?” he turned to Steve and glared. 

“When?” He asked curiously

“To Y/n, Nat isn’t happy”. 

“What does it matter to you?” Steve laughed and turned to drive up the road to the private estate. 

“C’mon man, you saw how well me and Nat got on” Bucky ran a hand through his dark locks. “I invited them to the club tomorrow,” Bucky huffed. 

“That won't be happening now” Sam laughed as he looked over Bucky's shoulder at the messages from Nat. 

Who the fuck does that? 

Is he serious? Kicking her out straight after sleeping with her?

What type of a person does that? 

He’s a fucking pig.

Sam let out a low whistle at the texts. “I thought you liked Y/n?” 

Steve looked at Sam through the mirror. 

“Be realistic Sammy Boy, when have I ever liked a girl enough for her to be more than just an easy fuck?” 

“So is that all she was?” Bucky asked curiously.

“Of course. Yeah, she’s cute but she was hardly my type. I don’t normally go for girls…” he paused, “her siz..like her”. 

You sound like an asshole Steve

“You’re one son of a bitch” Sam sighed and sat back in his seat. 

“It’s true though. I don’t plan on settling down and if I were to, it definitely wouldn’t be with her. She was just so eager to get my cock and she should be grateful that she got the chance”. 

Bucky just shook his head before texting Nat back.

I can’t control what Steve does. Come to the club tomorrow and I’ll make it up to you? - JBB 

Steve focused back on the road, a weird feeling filling his stomach as he thought about the girl he spent half of last night with and the nasty things he just said about her.

She is nothing more than an easy fuck. He told himself that over and over again until they arrived back at the house. 

____ 

After the meeting with his those under his command, Steve gave everyone their orders and sent them on their way.

"Parker" His tone was harsh as he called for the youngest member.

"Yes, sir? Peter quickly walked over to where Steve was standing.

"Did she get home okay?" A sincere look crossed Steve's face when he enquired about Y/n.

"yeah she did. She was awfully quiet though. She looked sad" Peter frowned as he remembered her reactions.

Steve just nodded and walked away.

Fuck, there was that feeling in his stomach again. Guilt.

----

It had been a week since the incident with Steve and Wanda and Nat were surprised at how well Y/n had been holding it together. After the girls day she seemed a lot happier and swore that she wasn’t going to let that man get her down anymore. 

Tonight was Bucky’s birthday party and he had invited Nat which meant Y/n and Wanda were invited too. 

“C’mon sweetie, it’s gonna be at a big club where you will easily be able to avoid Steve and Wanda will be by your side when I’m not, I promise we won’t leave you on your own”. Nat was trying to convince Y/n to go along to Bucky’s birthday. She knew that a drink and a dance would cheer her up but y/n was reluctant to go in case she ran into Steve. 

“C’mon” Wanda nudged her elbow and wiggled her eyebrows at y/n “we both know how much you love cocktails and dancing, especially with me” she sang and y/n rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Okay fine”, her two friends cheered and Y/n painted on her best fake smile. She really didn’t want to go but she could see how badly her best friends wanted to and after all that they had done for her over the last week, she owed them. 

“Lets get ready” 

Taglist: @wintasssoldier @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @kneelforloki @stephv213 @urmomsgirlfriend1 

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NO DRAMA. this blog has a strict no drama rule. i do not have a lot of energy and so writing is my only hobby i can really do anymore. i deal with chronic pain daily , so i do not have any time or patience for drama. do not bring it to me. i don't want to be involved. i will block people who break this rule.

RATING / CONTENT. do to the nature of this blog , this blog is a mature blog , and you must be 21+ to interact. this is for my own comfort and there will be no exceptions. this blog will feature very triggering content. i will be tagging any triggering content with the following format ' tw trigger here. ' so you can block any triggers accordingly to protect yourself. i also will not be offended if you don't follow back. we are all in charge of keeping our spaces safe for us. ( any threads dealing with HYDRA muses will be tagged ' tw hydra muse. ' as i know some make people uncomfortable. smut may also find it's way onto this blog as well , and will not be placed under a cut , but tagged with ' usfw. '

FORMATTING. i will be formatting my posts , and will be using custom spacing , bold , italic text as well as page breaks and icons. you are by no means required to use any of this to write with me. this is for my own amusement. i judge if i want to write with you based on if i think our muses will mesh well.

SHIPPING. i love shipping with people. it's also very easy for me to ship something , as i am a shipping whore. that being said , please approach me before assuming a ship. i promise i am a very nice person and would be happy to discuss it. this is just how comfortable i am with shipping. just a quick im will do. i also prefer to plot out ships so the asking helps with that too.

NOTES:

STEVE ROGERS IS BI / MALE LEANING: i've tried writing him straight , bi , pan and gay , and i've just found it to be the easiest to write him bisexual , and leaning toward men over women. there are some women who he is attracted to , but it usually takes time for him to get to know women before he'll develop feelings for them. (this blog does not ship steggy.)

STEVE WAS FOUND IN THE ICE IN 1982: howard stark never gave up his efforts , and would eventually find steve in the ice where he crashed the plane in 1982. he was brought out and heated up but there were some complications with thawing him , leaving him with joint pain that doesn't go away completely. after coming out of the ice , and recovering , he was kept in a cabin away from society on nick fury's orders until he was ready to join society. that lasted two years. in 1984 , he began working for SHIELD , working closely with agent romanoff.

SAKOVIA ACCORDS DID NOT HAPPEN: plain and simple , i do not partake in any of the plot for CW , and have no intentions in doing so. i am happy to rp non MCU CW plots , but i just don't vibe with the way they portrayed steve rogers from that point forward. i'm also more than happy to rp trials of muses and stuff like that. but just won't be engaging in any MCU CW plots. (that does not mean i won't rp with muses from that movie like zemo)

STEVE DOES NOT GO BACK TO PEGGT AFTER EG: seeing as i don't ship steggy , it doesn't make sense for my steve to go back in time to live the rest of his life with her. instead , steve stayed in the current timeline , helping bucky with settling into his life outside of HYDRA , he spends some time as director of SHIELD and training new avengers , and mostly just enjoys his time being retired. he is no longer captain america , and still passes the mantle to sam , and continues his her work as NOMAD if he steps into the hero game. (he says he's retired but we know it doesn't stay that way)

more will be added as i think them up. i will make posts to let people know this has been updated.

[i-am-minty-fresh]

Alright here’s my unwarranted opinion on post-timeskip designs.

(Not including the fact that they just made everyone’s skin tones lighter for no reason cause that’s complete bullshit but we’re gonna talk about their other design features).

Luffy: I love it. Don’t get me wrong I love his stupid vest + flip-flop combo in pre-timeskip but his fluffy shirt and sash are just so him without taking away all his silliness (also adding the yellow sash ties way better to the ASL theme because the yellow in the hat is more tied to Roger/Shanks while the sash is purely related to him and his brothers with is great!)

-8/10-

Zoro: no notes. I love how Oda took one his eyes and refused to explain. I love what that means for Zoro’s character. He doesn’t think about his injuries in that way, he just moves forward. Other than that tho, the boots? The coat? The sash? (Every gets a sash now-a-days) I love that he kept his haramaki because it looks so comfy!

-10/10-

Nami: ….I feel like they could have done a bit more…Don’t get me wrong I love the long hair but her outfits just kinda became bikini top + jeans which not only look uncomfortable but isn’t half as stylish as Oda thinks it is.

-6/10-

Usopp: My guy leveled up. Abs, pants, no-shirt, little facial hair, Usopp’s a fucking man now guys and I’ve got respect for him. Also love his pop greens I just wish he also used other chemical combinations like he did pre-timeskip.

-9/10-

Sanji: they’d tried to make him a big strong man like Zoro, but I don’t think that was ever the appeal of him. He’s meant to be lean so buffing him up was just kinda stupid. Got rid of his pants chain and all his silly undershirt colors.

-4/10-

Chopper: Controversial opinion! I don’t mind his post-timeskip design. He looks cute! I don’t like that they replaced the hat that his dad gave him (I feel like we never talk about that! He has a different hat now! How do you get a new ‘dead dad’ hat?!?) Now he’s got a little stripped shirt, and his heavy point looks a lot better. I do not like how they lean on Kung-fo point so heavily when he has so many other forms for fighting (horn point is my favorite).

-8/10-

Robin: What. Why did they- HER HAT?!? HER BANGS?!?? What the fuck happened in the revolutionary army to do this to my favorite women?!? Give her back her hat, give her back her bangs or I swear to god.

-2/10- (I like her long skirt)

Franky: Also controversial opinion!(?) I don’t hate his bigger body. I wished we got more of his pre-timeksip form because I love his greasy dad look but post-timeskip does a lot for giving Franky a 2 year long power-up in a way that he would. UPGRADES PEOPLE, UPGRADES!

-9/10-

Brook: I love it. His been living in star-dome being flamboyant as all hell and so of course he comes back with a diva-boa, some $10 star glasses, a plastic crown, and strange old man pants. I love formal peepaw but I also love weird party peepaw. I also think the guitar was a good way to make him seem big and aggressive while the violin has the silent, deadly elegance.

-10/10-

All and all I think a lot of us just missed the pre-timeskip style which is fair! I love how pretty the animation gets in Wano but there was bit of an awkward faze where the studio was still trying to figure out how silly vs how pretty they wanted everything to look.

[world-cinema-research]

Week 3 - A Woman Under the Influence (1974) Short Analytic Essay

By Carly Leavitt-Hullana

A Woman Under the Influence, (see flier above & below) directed by John Cassavetes starring Gena Rowlands as Mabel Longhetti and Peter Falk as Nick Longhetti, was released November 18th, 1974 during the New York Film Festival. It is categorized as a thriller/suspense, drama romance film. It features a family where the husband works as a blue-collar or construction worker and the wife is a stay at home mom with three young kids. It follows the struggles of the highly unstable mother, Mabel, who loves her children and just wants everyone to be happy. The father, Nick, tries his best to keep his wife ‘in check’, however loses his temper rather quickly, especially when Mabel seems to act stranger than usual in front of guests. The children love their mother and are devastated when she gets sent to a mental institution as Nick soon fears she is a danger to herself, her children, and society. In this short essay I will discuss some brief background information about the director, cast, and budget as well as touch on critical acclimations and the conventionality of the film.

See more about the plot of this movie and get a jist of the filming style of this thriller/mystery with the trailer for A Woman Under the Influence.

The director and writer, John Cassavetes, is a Greek-American director and screenwriter and is labeled a pioneer of American independent film as he frequently financed his own films (read more about John Cassavetetes via IMDb). On the topic of finances, A Woman Under the Influence premiered at the New York Film Festival, as previously mentioned, and grossed $11 million at the box office with a budget of $1 million. Fun fact, Cassavetes put down half of the finances to make the vision of A Woman Under the Influence come to life and he was married to the Gena Rowlands (A Woman Under the Influence via Senses of Cinema). Along with the trends of the box office data, this film was also critically successful as well having a rating of 89% Rotten Tomatoes (A Woman Under the Influence via Rotten Tomatoes). Despite making many viewers uncomfortable with their performances, Rowlands and Falk are praised for said performance and film critic Roger Ebert claims, “[t]he characters are larger than life (although not less convincing because of that), and their loves and rages, their fights and moments of tenderness, exist at exhausting levels of emotion,” (A Woman Under the Influence via Roger Ebert). Ebert perfectly describes the ups and downs of this film that are remarkably enacted by these two actors, which allows the suspense and thriller aspect of the film to be perfectly executed throughout the entirety of the movie; always leaving the viewer a bit confused and on the edge of their seat trying to guess Mabel or Nick’s next moves.

Watch this interview with Cassavetes, Rowlands, and Faulk to learn more about individual production and overall experience of A woman Under the Influence.

A Woman Under the Influence is considered unconventional, although there are some aspects of conventional Hollywood cinema. The conventional aspects of the film are that Casavetes casted the well-known Peter Falk who was famous for his role as Lieutenant Columbo in the Columbo television series (Peter Falk via Britannica), how the wife and husband play very stereotypical American family roles as the husband is the breadwinner as a blue-collar worker and the wife is a stay at home mom who cares for the house, husband, and children, and the higher budget for the production of A Woman Under the Influence. The ways that this film is unconventional is basically the rest of the plot. First of all, speaking, leave be making a film surrounding the mental health stigma was arguably more controversial back then as it is now a days, along with Rick’s actions with his mentally ill wife. Typically in the 70s mental health issues would get swept under the rug and one sharing this information with others was rare, let alone act on it and receive help was even more so. Another main contributor to the films unconventional categorization is how the suspense is created and/or executed throughout the movie. Nora Sayre, a journalist for The New York TImes in the 1970s ideally sums up this idea, “And that's the hitch in the movie: you can't really tell how the director regards this character [Mabel]… Ultimately, the essential problems of this woman remain unclear: we're shown her behavior, but not what inspired it,” ('A Woman Under Influence' Stars Gena Rowlands as Frenetic Wife:The Cast via The New York Times). An apparent definition for classifying an unconventional film is when the story and style can be different and challenging for a majority of the audience to understand (What Is a "Mainstream" or "Conventional Hollywood" Movie? via Professor O’Neill). This perfectly applies to A Woman Under the Influence as the audience can be easily confused about what’s happening or the main characters at times as well as we don’t know what or why she is ‘cracking out’. Also, we find that Mabel not only frequently acts strange, but feels lost too as she doesn’t even know who she is anymore and is constantly asking Nick who and what he wants her to be as she can no longer figure that out for herself.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (5)

Memory, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

Summary: Bucky, Big Sam, and Steve catch up. Tony makes a decision about his daughter. Lil'Sam makes the most of her father's gift.

Warnings: maybe gossip? This series is still Rated Teen/Mature, so 15+ only, please. Remember a rule of this universe is super soldiers do not age!

CHAPTER FIVE—April 2036

“Hey, punk,” Bucky called to Steve, “what are you doing? You're killing me!”

Rogers came running across their makeshift field, casually. “Jerk, whaddya want from me? I’m out of practice. Didn’t I tell you I retired?”

“That was fifteen years ago. Sure your memory’s not going?” Bucky recovered the football from the tree line behind him.

“Really, twinkle toes?” Sam Wilson called over, panting. “Only three hours worth of running circles around me, and you two are tired? I win then. Think Sharon’s got some lemonade?” Falcon jogged weakly to the house.

“He’s right,” Steve said, catching up to Bucky. “He’s getting too old for this. We should go easier on him.”

They smiled at each other. “Never,” Bucky replied, “but a drink sounds pretty good.”

Steve and Sharon had furnished the house simply, in a sort of French farmhouse style, with wooden features wherever possible, mismatching dishes and utensils gathered over the years. Wilson was already refilling his marbled-blue glass when the others sat down.

“One damn grey hair,” he mumbled, pointing back and forth between Steve and Bucky, “is that too much to ask for? I can hardly watch you two without feeling my knee ache.”

“Did you need an aspirin,” Sharon offered with a laugh, setting down more glasses. She turned to Steve. “I’ve got a few more errands before dinner. Need anything?”

“No, doll,” Rogers replied, planting a kiss on her cheek. Bucky noticed a few more freckles on her face than the last time he visited. Every day almost everyone he knew changed just a little, but not Bucky, not Steve. Sharon grew older every year; Steve, ever the loyal gentleman, grew more in love with her every year. The only changing thing about Bucky was his opinion on whether he wanted the same thing or whether it was a waste of time and effort.

“Have fun, boys. Don’t kill Sam,” Sharon called from the door, accompanied by the jingle of keys and a shutting door.

“Don’t you have enough salt for the three of us?” Bucky scratched at his temple hairline strategically.

“Hardy-har-har, Bucko,” Sam mumbled.

“Don’t do that.”

“So,” Steve interrupted, “what’s the news at headquarters?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you CC’d on all that stuff?”

Bucky eyed Steve who shrugged uncomfortably. The former leader of the Avengers sipped lemonade at a simple wooden table, surrounded by knick-knacks, wearing plain clothes, and sweating for a fun workout with friends. “You miss it,” Bucky accused.

“Not,” Steve started, fumbling a bit, “all the time.”

“That civilian life not sittin’ so well these days,” Sam chided.

“Sometimes I just miss the…amount going on.”

Bucky chuckled. “Great. You can have it back now.”

“No, Buck, that’s not what I mean.” The bulky man crossed his arms in front of him. “It’s fine. I…ya know what would help? It’d be nice to see you two settled a bit.”

Sam grunted. “I’m a wild stallion. Why you wanna put me in the stables?”

“No chance that lovely Stacy—“

“Nope.”

“I thought you two went to dinner—“

“Nope.”

“Danielle?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t you get started with me.” Sam glared at Bucky. “I’m not the oddly celibate fool.”

“You are not celibate, very true.”

“Buck,” Steve started.

“Steve?” He turned back to Sam. “I wasn’t judging, only recounting the slew of names we’ve heard over the years.”

“It’s not a slew,” Sam burst. “It’s a quarter of a lifetime for me!”

“And you can do whatever you want with it,” Bucky defended, “I never said any different.” He put his hands up in defeat. “Not my business.” He pointed at Steve. “He asked!”

“Anyone heard how the Bartons are doing?” Steve took another sip of lemonade.

“Chaos,” Sam quipped. Then he adjusted, “no, Clint is good, but three kids is rough.”

Steve made a face over his glass. “Shouldn’t we just call it four now?” There was a dark silence. Sam shifted his eyes to the window. “Thought you two were close for a bit?” Steve couldn’t get Sam to meet his eye.

“Little Sam…” Wilson started, pressing his thumb to the corner of his lips. “She’s definitely a Stark.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked.

Wilson opened his hand in mid-air. “I don’t know. She was playful, not athletic, but fun. Then she got to asking me more and more questions, about Tony and Pepper and Avengers. I didn’t have answers, and then if I did, I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer them. What would Tony think? I don’t know how Clint does it. How do you raise another guy’s kid in a way her real dad would want? She supposed to believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny or straight to cold, hard truths? I can’t make that choice.”

“From what I’ve gathered, Tony doesn’t make that choice either,” Bucky said quietly.

“Who told you that?” Steve looked concerned.

“Nat,” Bucky replied.

“Anything going on there,” Steve asked.

“She and Bruce try to keep tabs on the girl. I don’t know a lot about it.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Steve added.

“But that’s the answer you’re gonna get.”

“Wait,” Sam exclaimed, “you and Natasha?”

“No,” Bucky said shortly. 

“I always thought you two might,” Sam continued, relaxing into his chair with a smug look. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Nothing happened…within the last decade. She made her choice; she’s with Banner.”

“Sure you didn’t make the choice for her,” Steve punctuated, unable to help himself.

“Mutual decisions were made,” Bucky asserted. “Look, I don’t know why we got on this subject, but I veto it now.”

Steve sighed. “I just think,” he finished, looking out the window at the browning field in the overcast light, “that we’ve all been through enough to deserve a little happiness.”

“She’s not a Russian spy or an assassin, so stop trying to teach her things that make her a target!” Tony was pissed. Cornered in a lab with a time-sensitive project, he couldn’t escape Natasha’s demands for approval of activities to offer his daughter.

“I don’t think playing cards ever killed anyone, Stark,” Nat flatly stated.

“Yeah, but she learns cards, goes to casinos, attracts some guy with an ironic tattoo and a blue shirt with white collar and cuffs,” he shivered, “and it’s all over. Obie used to wear those awful things. Should have known then…”

“Well,” Natasha started, not sure how to take that, “there’s a lot going on there, but Samantha still needs some variety of stuff to learn. Social skills wouldn’t hurt.”

“Let her be anti-social. It’s safer. Keeps her out of the news and not a target.” Tony’s chest swelled with justification and righteousness, his logic infallible.

“You know you’re the one who makes her a target,” she screamed, much angrier than intended. Nat took a breath and watched Tony’s belligerent look relax.

His eyes remained locked with hers. “She’s not a target if she’s not here and isn’t known by my name. Who’s gonna know?”

“Stark,” Nat tried to begin again.

“You want her to socialize? Fine. She can go to boarding school. Socialize with kids her own age away from Barton. Is that it? He just wants a break?”

“That’s not what Pepper would want—“

Tony slammed down the wrench he held. The ringing of the table lingered. “Don’t you dare.”

She composed herself again. “Stark, I just meant your daughter shouldn’t be farther from you now, and she shouldn’t be left with no defense. The wolves could be circling, and we don’t see it.”

“And we fed them,” Tony exploded. He stalked towards Natasha. “This ragtag team of misfits put a giant target on our foreheads and screamed for attention across the universe! The wolves won’t give a rat’s ass about her if we keep their attention or keep them running.” 

He looked at her, face-to-face, his eyes so dark they looked black. His build would have to wait till he calmed down. He tossed the wrench across the room, smoothly, if loudly, sinking it into the classic foldout, hotrod red toolbox open in the corner. 

“Kid goes to boarding school. Problem solved. Smoothie?”

Thirteen weeks. The mystery of the hard drive kept Samantha going for thirteen weeks. It had made a terrible school with terrible, small-minded children bearable, but only just. Those weeks were spent looking for a compatible power supply, then connecting cables, then a computer old enough to read the programming. She had to convince Laura to let her spend hours locked in her room or hours longer spent at school in the library. She convinced Clint to help her carry the bulky, ancient technology upstairs to her room. She pushed through.

When the day finally came to access the data, Sam was so pleased to find something worthwhile: Howard Stark’s AI. Its name was Mistress, and even at over 60 years old, Mistress was able to help Sam transfer her program to a modern terminal compatible with her tablet. Missy, as Sam called her, was a fellow fast-learning friend, but that made Sam all the more afraid to tell anyone about it. No one much noticed the difference between loner-Sam and recluse-Sam, except with Missy, Sam was happier, more energetic. Laura noticed Sam made jokes, she started using cultural references instead of scientific ones, and she actively asked how the family’s day was at the dinner table. It was such an improvement, why would anyone upset the balance? They all let her develop into a nerd because that was better than the sad, hermit alternative.

Missy helped connect Sam’s homework with real-world purpose, searching for applications of equations, and how and why these ideas were discovered. It was so much more comprehensive than following along in a text. Missy could take Sam down a rabbit hole of any subject, and they’d both come out the other end smarter. Particularly interesting to Sam was Missy’s consistent evaluation of Tony Stark’s body language from video footage. Particularly interesting to Missy was Sam’s recounting of Tony himself and all Sam had ever heard about Missy’s maker, Howard, after he shut her down.

One evening, nearly two years after booting up her best friend, Sam snuck down for a snack before continuing a fascinating and blunt conversation with Missy about the experience of hormonal fluctuations during puberty, when she stopped short of the landing, hearing voices.

“If we thought this school was tough for her, she’ll be eaten alive at that preening castle of teenage monsters,” Clint angrily whispered.

“Honey, it’s his call. We don’t have the right to choose for her instead.” Laura ended her thought unsure as if hoping for it to be an open question.

“She…she’s been here so long, I can’t stand to hear about the names, the graffiti, the…” Clint’s voice trailed off. Sam could hear his exact movement to wipe his hand across his face and land his chin in his palm. It was his signature dad move. “Lila wasn’t teased like this, was she?”

Sam could not distinguish the silent gesture Laura answered with, but Clint’s response made it clear.

“Any of them? Why is this so different then? I can’t believe I’m actually annoyed that my kids weren’t tormented at school…What do we do? You don’t think that hoity-toity academy is a good fit, do you?”

“Did anyone ask Tony if Sam could just come home—go home? It’s been ten years, honey. We can’t keep this up.”

“Sometimes he seems to have a plan and others…I don’t think he ever considered making decisions for a child. Deciding for someone’s life, shaping their future. He’s terrified. Hell, I’m terrified and my kids are grown up, basically. Tony doesn’t like people to see him, ya know, have a soul anymore—“

“Honey, I don’t have an answer,” Laura blurted with exasperation. She calmed quickly. “You should get some sleep. We hardly get to see you, and they’ll want to shoot in the morning and bike after. You’ll be dead to me by dinner if you don’t go up now. I’ll be up after I…”

Sam heard Clint scoot out his chair and rushed back upstairs, her appetite gone.

[Ch 6: Memorial]

[Main Masterlist]

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Of All My Parents’ Friends

@heartthesouth asked: 

Imagine Roger describing 1960s Claire (and possibly his remembrance of 1940s Claire from his childhood) to Jamie.

One-shot; takes place just after the Gathering in book-verse (The Fiery Cross).

Bear in mind, this means Jamie and Roger are only *newly* on solid-ish ground after all the unpleasantness between them in Drums of Autumn. If you haven’t read the books, just imagine the very worst start a man could get off to with his father-in-law. (YIKES.) 

 -Mod Bonnie

Fraser’s Ridge, North Carolina

October, 1770 

“Puiff-ee?”

The word sounded absolutely stupid coming out of his father-in-law’s mouth, which (infuriatingly!) made ROGER feel the foolish one. “C’mon, ye know. Poofy? Like—voluminous?—”

Jamie Fraser snorted violently into his lunch of bread and pickle and Roger felt a wave of anxiety. Was the word somehow offensive in this time??  But surely ‘poofy’ was more easily misconstrued than—

But Jamie—seated on a log next to Roger’s boulder—came up grinning, still coughing on crumbs as he choked out, “Ye mean to say there was a time when Claire’s hair was MORE voluminous than it is NOW?” 

They both laughed and Roger drank in the relief of the camaraderie, flimsy as it might be. 

“Christ almighty,” Jamie swore with feeling as the laughter subsided, shaking his head in genuine incredulity, “however did she manage THAT?”

“I dinna ken exactly,” Roger admitted with a hopefully-easy shrug, passing the stone bottle of cider, “Claire’s was sort of—” he made a swooping gesture overtop his own crown “—um...I dinna ken how to describe it.. Kind of—”

“A bouffant,” Brianna interjected helpfully, plopping down next to Jamie (well, as much as a six-foot-tall woman with a sleeping baby strapped to her front could ‘plop’) and doing a quick sketch in the dirt with a stick.  

“Oh, aye, a *bouffant,*” He grinned, leaning over to kiss his wife and son, grateful for the buffer. “I definitely knew that’s what it was called.” 

“How does—? But—where do the curls go?” Jamie kept tilting his head from side to side like a puppy as he peered down, clearly having difficulty translating the rough illustration to his wife’s head. “And how in hell did she get it to stay all rounded and puffed up?” 

“HAIRSPRAY,” he and Bree said in unison, though he left the task of explaining aerosol cans and their uses to the engineer. 

By the end, Jamie was grinning like a fiend. “Claire would glue her hair into place every day for fashion??”

“Yep!” Bree laughed, expertly cupping Jem’s head as she bent forward to reach for a hunk of bread, “unless she was doing an operation that day, obviously. Not much call for style under a scrub cap.” 

Shaking his head in gleeful wonder, Jamie turned back to Roger. “What else was different about ‘Sixties Claire,’ to your eye, other than the hair?”

“Oo, her groovy makeup!” Bree said through a large bite.

“Gr–? Cosmetics, ye mean?” 

“Aye, just so!” Roger said, hoping to win some son-in-law points, meagre as they might be. “And ‘groovy’ just means daring in an admirable way.” 

“Well, that sounds like Claire, right enough. Does every woman wear the Greuvvy Makeup, then?” 

Bree shrugged. “Pretty much.” 

“I tell ye what, though,” Roger said emphatically, seeing the opportunity and seizing it, “Claire certainly didna need all that. Not one bit.”

It was like a horror film. 

Two identical faces swiveled on tall, twin necks, fixing him with identical expressions of amusement. Or possibly menace. Either way, absolutely TERRIFYING.

“What?” he snapped, his face flushing as he looked back and forth between them.

Jamie’s eyebrows were raised. “Why should Claire not have needed the cosmetics?”

Bree raised hers to match, her lips quivering with suppressed laughter. “Yes, Roger: do tell!” 

He made a scoffing sound. “Well, no, I mean—”

“If ‘pretty much’ all women wore it,” Jamie asked, face completely inscrutable, “why should Claire have been any different?  

“No, she’s—Well, I mean she IS—” This was not going well. “All I was trying to say is Claire’s very—She’s got very lovely—” 

The movie had shifted into one where the out-of-control-robot car had locked you inside and was accelerating top-speed into a canyon. Cannot—BRAKE—

“—SKIN!”

“OH. MY. GODDD!!” Bree whooped with glee, making Jemmy jump in his sleep and thump his forehead against her chest. 

Jamie said nothing and only sipped his drink, but damn him, there was an effing GLEAM in those cats’ eyes. 

Bree coughed through her giggles and waved her hand in a ‘hold on, hold on’ gesture. “So—wait: when we met in Inverness....were you checking out my mother’s ‘skin’?”

“I wasna CHECKING HER OUT,” he insisted with a mocking tone to show what a ridiculous suggestion it was (but SHIT if he didn’t sound all kinds of guilty AND if he didn’t want to fling himself into a hole and never come out). Pull yourself the fuck together, MacKenzie. 

“Look,” he sighed, “Claire’s a very attractive woman, and—”

“So we’ve gone from verra lovely to verra *attractive*, have we?” 

“It—I—” Damn that fucking ginger hide: Roger couldn’t tell if the man was poking fun or literally about to bash his head open against a tree. 

“Wait, wait, didn’t—oh JEEZ, it’s too much—” Bree was clutching Jem tight, dying with laughter, and was NOT giving this up. “Didn’t you tell me once that Mama reminded you of Anne Bancroft??”

ffffffffffucking hellllllllllllllllllllll

“Who’s that?” Jamie demanded, his narrowed eyes snapping to Roger.  

Yep, it had now become the kind of horror movie where the supporting actor looks at the camera and gets in that *one great scream* for their reel right before they get eaten alive to thicken the plot for the protagonists. 

Bree was on a roll. “A famous, very *sexy* actress! She was in a—play (sort of) with Dustin Hoffman who has the role of this university boy who is seduced by an older wo—”

“—S’QUITE ENUFF’A’THAT!” His voice cracked on the panicked outburst (can a man not catch a BREAK???), at which his wife dissolved into further spasms. “Oh for God’s sake, Bree, it was YOU that I checked out, if ye need reminding!!” 

“And just why were ye ‘checking out’ an unmarrit lass?” Jamie said, turning expertly on the conversational dime, “A guest in your home, no less? MY daughter?” 

“I wasna—I ABSOLUTELY did NOT—Oh, for fuck’s SAKE!” 

They were both quaking with laughter where they sat. 

Roger threw up his hands up and stormed to his feet. “You two bloody deserve each other, ye know! Twisting a man’s words, ‘til—Oh, willye shut up and LISTEN, THE BOTH OF YE!” 

They knocked heads as they slumped against each other, tears streaming down their ruddy cheeks. 

Roger made huge, sweeping gestures to left and right for emphasis. “CLAIRE IS VERY BEAUTIFUL. BRIANNA IS VERY BEAUTIFUL. WE’RE ALL FAMILY NOW, CAN WE BE *DONE* WI’—”

“What on EARTH are you lot bellowing about!?!” 

He whirled around to see Claire, flushed and dirt-streaked, gathering basket in hand, her eyes wide. “Is everything alright?” 

Roger gave both redheads a sidelong glare that HE would have said could have melted steel, but just make Brianna shake even harder. She was suppressing outright cackling only by pressing her lips into the top of Jemmy’s fuzzy head. 

“Nay, all’s well, mo nighean donn,” Jamie said, surprising Roger by getting to his feet. He came over to put a hand on his wife’s waist and kiss her on the cheek. “Roger Mac, here, was only singing the praises of your great charm and beauty, mo ghraidh, much to the credit of ye both.”

“Oh! Well!” Claire flushed, sounding both surprised and pleased. “That’s very sweet of you, Roger, dear, thank you.” 

Roger, stunned, scraped up enough presence of mind to give her a smile and a little self-deprecating bow. 

She didn’t bother to suppress a grin as she went on her way toward the drying shed. “I rather needed that, today.”

Once she was out of earshot, Roger met Jamie’s eye and inclined his head with a sincere, "Thanks.” 

“Think nothing of it,” his father-in-law said, clapping him on the shoulder in passing as he headed back to the woodpile “…Dustin.”

[hannahshattuck]

Captain Firefighter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight graphic description of injury, car accident

Steve Rogers Masterlist Main Masterlist

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

You groaned as you slapped your hand around the nightstand trying to find your phone with the alarm going off. When you finally found it, you grabbed it and opened one eye to turn it off. You checked the time and realized you should get up to make sure you weren’t late on your first day at your new job. With a groan, you slowly sat up and noticed you were naked and had a pounding headache.

“Great. Hungover on the first day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

A groan behind you caught your attention. “God. I’m not drinking ever again.” 

You looked over your shoulder and saw a blond man laying on his back rubbing his hands over his face. The blankets sat at his hips which put his built torso on display. His chest looked like a good place to rest your head and it seemed like his abs had abs. You quickly found your underwear on the floor and a navy blue tee shirt and put them on. You stood facing him and tried to smile even though it felt like a construction crew was in your skull. 

“Um, hi.” You said.

The man brought his hands from his face and laid them on his chest. “Hi.” 

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other and you hoped you were smiling more than grimacing. The man sat up, keeping the sheet covering him and stood looking for most likely his underwear. He found black boxer briefs and put them on without moving the sheet which was impressive to say the least. 

Once he got them on, he dropped the sheet on the bed and found what seemed to be his jeans. He pulled them on and looked up at you and chuckled.

“I need my shirt.” He smirked.

You looked down. “Oh..” You found one of your sweatshirts in your dresser, along with shorts, and started towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off pointing to the bathroom.

He smiled, “Alright.”

You ducked into the bathroom and quickly locked the door. “Oh god.” You whispered to yourself. You quickly changed out of his shirt and into your clothes. 

You left the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge in your bed on his phone. You cleared your throat.

“Uh, here you go.” You held his shirt out to him. He stood up and it was then when you realized how tall he was. You were eye level with his chest and had to title your head up to look in his eyes that were a very bright blue.

He took his shirt and put it on without breaking eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed. 

“I don’t remember a lot from last night but I do know you said you start a new job today so good luck on that and I hope you don’t feel too bad today.” He bent down and kissed your cheek. You felt your face heat up.

“I-I’ll walk you out.” You walked out your bedroom and led the way to the front door of your apartment. The living wasn’t a mess so that told you the two of you went straight to your room. You unlocked the front door and opened it to let him out. “I, uh, hope you have a good day.”

He smiled before he walked out the door, “You too.”

You closed the door and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck me.”

--------------------

You pulled up into an empty parking spot and grabbed your backpack with all your stuff once you parked. Looking towards the fire station, you saw both big garage doors open and saw your soon to be coworkers messing around or cleaning or working out. You swung your backpack over one shoulder and started walking toward the station. 

“Hey! It’s the newbie!” You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw a dark skin man waving at you. “Hi! I’m Sam.” 

“Hi.” You waved back. 

“Wilson, keep mopping. It’s your fault there’s whip cream everywhere.” A red head woman said as she walked over to you. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She held out her hand.

“Y/N.” You said, shaking her hand. “Do I want to know why he’s mopping up whip cream?” You chuckled. 

Natasha playful rolled her eyes, “In between last night calls the boys were pulling pranks.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha laughed. “They’re lucky it was our captain’s day off last night. Otherwise he would have laid into them and made them clean every nook and cranny of this place.”

“Is your captain here?” You fiddled with the strap of your backpack.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. He texted me earlier saying he was gonna be running late. Apparently had a good night if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully which caused you to chuckle. “Let’s get you settled before he arrives.”

She led you to the lockers, where you filled yours, and gave a quick run down of where everything is before leading you to the ambulance. You found out that Natasha is one of the paramedics they have and you two would be partners. 

“Okay, so here’s how everything is organized. We do share the ambulance with other shifts but we all got together and figured out where to put everything. If you figure out that a certain supply would be easier to grab in a different spot just send a quick text in the group chat we have for all the paramedics and EMTs. Oh! Speaking of which, let me get your number so I can add you.” Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket and you gave her your number. “Most of the time we’re like a high school chat with the amount of memes we send.” 

You chuckled knowing exactly what she meant. She continued to show you around the ambulance and then started to introduce you to the other firefighters. You already met Sam when you walked in and he seemed to be done with mopping the whipped cream. Then met James Barnes; who goes by Bucky because there’s two named James but it’s also a childhood nicknamed that stayed, Clint Barton; whose Golden Retriever named Lucky is the station dog and loves pizza apparently, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; who are twins and moved to the States when they were kids, James Rhodes; who goes by Rhodey and is the other James, and then was told that Carol Danvers, Maria Hill, Peter Parker, Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne you would meet another time due to them being off.

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice boomed throughout the station. You turned in the direction of said voice and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I know right.” Natasha smirked. “I’m kidding. One thing you’ll quickly see is how we all tease each other.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Oh okay.” 

He noticed you standing with Natasha and you saw his face pale before he schooled his features and walked over to you. He was now wearing the same uniform everyone else was and it was fitting him perfectly just like the jeans and tee he put on this morning when he left your apartment.

“Hi there. You must be the new EMT we were sent.” He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and stood there exuding authority. 

“Uh, yeah.” You tried to smile hoping it was an actual smile. 

“Steve. Or Captain Rogers. Or Rogers. Or Cap like everyone else seems to call me.” He chuckled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You said as you shook his hand while your brain so helpfully supplied an image of those hands around your waist.

“Let’s head to my office before we get a call. There’s some housekeeping things I want you to know.” 

You hummed an acknowledgement and followed him to his office trying to keep your gaze in the middle of his back or the floor so as to not focus on his behind that was contained by the uniform pants. Steve opened the door and motioned for you to walk through the doorway.

“You can have a seat in one of those chairs if you’d like.”

You quickly walked over to the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side and leaned back in the chair studying you. Instead of meeting his gaze, you looked down at your pants picking off pieces of invisible lint.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his forearms on his desk with his fingers interlocked with each other. “I will say that this is not how I expected this shift to go.”

You chuckled, still staring at your pants. “You and me both.”

“I don’t want to make this uncomfortable for you and I can work it out to where we won’t be on the same shift. But, I do want you to be here because I’ve seen your scores for all the tests and they’re phenomenal.” Steve said. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled with a slight heat in your cheeks. “And you don’t have to change anything. I’ll admit it might be weird the first couple days but I’ll be fine.” You gain the courage to look at him and saw his ocean blue eyes watching you. 

“Not to make this any more awkward than it kinda is but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “I promise I’m not trying to come onto you but, uh, I just needed to say that.” He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his thumbs.”

“Well if it’s any consolation I haven't stopped thinking about you either.” You smiled. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something but then the bell rang signaling that there was a call. “Well, let’s start your first shift.” 

You two stood up from your seats and Steve opened the door for you to go first. You gave him a smile as you thanked him. 

“Let’s do that.” You chuckled and took off towards the ambulance with Natasha. 

--------------------

It’s been a few months since your first day and the team has felt more like a family every day. Natasha has felt like a sister to you, Sam has gotten a run for his money when you’ve played pranks and your relationship with Steve has gotten…...closer. You ended up telling Natasha that you slept with him and she couldn’t help but laugh. When you asked why she was laughing she said, “Well, I don’t blame you. He is a nice snack.” You couldn’t disagree with her on that. Steve and you talked about how you two wouldn’t let that night affect you two working together but neither of you could ignore that there were feelings for the other. 

“Hey Y/N!! Can you call Lucky over? He keeps trying to drink the soapy water!” Clint yells across the firehouse where he, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey were trying to was one of the trucks.

“Yeah. No problem. Lucky! C’mere!” You whistled. The Golden Retriever came bounding over to you and jumped into your arms licking you all over your face. You giggled as you gently pushed him away to go over to his toys and grabbed a tug rope. 

As you were playing with Lucky and wearing him out, the alarm that signaled a call sounded. Dispatch said an ambulance was needed for a car accident. It was always difficult to tell how bad car accidents are until you get there. You and Wanda, who you found out was another EMT, were on shift and ran to the ambulance to head to where the accident was. The accident was at an intersection that always had a lot of accidents whether it be minor or major. 

When you and Wanda arrived, there were already two ambulances there which told the two of you how bad it was. There were at least six cars involved. One was wrapped around a tree, two looked like they collided head on, and the three rear ended each other. There looked to be people out of some cars but your biggest worry was the one wrapped around the tree. You asked one of the other EMTs if any of them checked on the patient of the car around the tree and they said they got there a few seconds before you and Wanda. 

You yelled for Wanda to grab the bags while you ran over to check on whoever it was in the car. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw it was Steve in the driver’s seat. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. You gently leaned him back so you could check his front for injuries. Steve had a cut above his eyebrow causing blood to trickle down his face, his left arm was broken which also had the bone poking through the skin, the steering wheel dashboard trapped his legs which caused you to not assess the injuries there. 

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasped when she saw who it was. 

“Wanda,” You turned to look at her. “I know it’s Steve but we treat him like every other person we’ve treated before. Okay?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. Wanda pulled out a cervical collar and handed it to you so you can place it around Steve’s neck to prevent any hidden injuries from getting worse. You called over your shoulder to have Wanda get the spine board. She nodded and ran to the ambulance. A groan pulled your attention back to the man in the banged up vehicle. 

“Steve? Hey big guy. Can you open your eyes for me?” You gently coaxed.

“Wha-? Y/N? What are you doin here?” His speech was slurred but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was regaining consciousness or if the cut on his head was more than just a cut.

“You got in a car accident. Do you know what happened?” You asked as you placed the collar around his neck.

Steve scrunched his face trying to think. “I-I can’t remember.” He started to panic. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Steve, you need to calm down.” You grabbed his wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Right now I need to check over your injuries.” You heard footsteps behind you and saw the spine board placed next to you. Wanda started getting stuff out of the bag to bandage the cut on Steve’s head. 

The two of you started to assess what you could see but you knew the steering wheel dashboard needed to get moved. You stood up and turned to see if there were any firefighters who could help and saw Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all running over to you. They looked over your shoulder and saw it was Steve. 

“What do you need?” Sam asked. 

“His legs are trapped so we need to get those out.”

“Alright. Guys, let’s get the equipment to help.” The men took off back to the fire engine and you turned your attention back to Steve. 

“Hey. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” You asked Steve. He mumbled a ‘yes’ and you started asking questions which would assess his mental status. You heard many pairs of footsteps running back over to you and saw Sam out the corner of your eye. You, Sam, and the rest of your team who were there, worked together to get Steve out from being trapped in the car. Once his legs were free, you all placed him on the spine board while Clint and Wanda went to get the gurney. 

“Everything hurts.” Steve groaned in pain. 

“I know, honey.” Unintentionally letting the pet name slip out. “I’m gonna get you some meds for that.” You got everything to get an IV in his arm to distribute pain meds. Wanda and Clint came back with the gurney and everyone loaded him up on the gurney, then into the ambulance, and Wanda jumped in the driver seat and started heading to the hospital. 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “I’m glad that you were there.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Well I’m glad that you’re alright for the most part.”

“You called me ‘honey’.”

“Eh. Pet names like that slip from me at times. Sorry if it was unprofessional.”

He gently shook his head as best he could with the collar on. “No, I actually liked it.” 

You could see a sense of determination in his eyes. “How ‘bout we focus on you getting better before we talk about possibly dating and what that means for our jobs.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

“Steve. Honey.” You winked at him. “It’s my job to check for even the smallest facial expressions in order to see how much pain someone is in.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

You shook your head chuckling, checking over his injuries you could see to make sure none have gotten worse. 

Wanda pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital where three nurses met you and helped you roll Steve into the hospital. He went to surgery for his arm and to make sure there were know serious internal injuries. You were there by his bedside in recovery when he woke up. The two of you would figure out logistics with the budding relationship at a later date but knew you couldn’t wait too long. 

Steve mumbled as he was coming out of the anesthesia. He opened his eyes a bit and saw you sitting there. “Hi.” He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. 

You smiled. “Hi. How you feeling?”

Steve mumbled incoherently which caused you to chuckle. 

“Alright.” You grabbed his right hand, being careful of the IV line, in both of yours. “You get more rest.” Steve mumbled more as you placed a kiss on his knuckles.

Tags: @patzammit @bobbydearest @katiew1973 @rocketrhap3000 @harrysthiccthighss @justamarvelfan14​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​

[ozarkthedog]

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭 || 𝐍𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐝!𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

summary: Steve always loved tying you up when he had to work.

warnings: SMUT. dom!steve. heavy bondage; hogtied. degradation. dirty talk. rough oral sex. overstimulation. asphyxiation.

word count: 1,730

author’s note: based off the gif of Chris Evans telling Dodger to “Stop”, but then Nomad!Steve came to mind and the rest was history. 

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.

The dark kitchen flooring is harsh under your naked chest as a puddle of drool forms below your face forcing you to keep your head elevated. The ropes were pulled tight this time around leaving no room for compromise.

You teethed around the small red ball gag, softly groaning from the ache and the pressure forming in your tendons. You’d need a long, soothing bath after Steve was done with his meeting.

Pins and needles prickled your feet as they reached towards the sky bound securely to the rope forcing your hands to your lower back. Any time you shifted your rope covered arms, your ankles would move with them, making it impossible to have any control.

Your shoulders were starting to groan under the tension. Maybe if you were able to turn to one side your feet would no longer tingle and the pain in your upper body would quell.

You could feel his eyes the moment you started wiggling more than usual.

He always loved tying you up when he had a meeting, he relishes knowing you’ll be there waiting for him. The obvious distraction of peering over his laptop to find you so helpless drove him mad. He couldn’t help but smirk when you’d huff at him through the gag and writhe for his pleasure.

You angled your feet as far to the side as you could without dislocating your shoulders but without good momentum you were going nowhere.

His boisterous laugh meant he was still paying attention to the conversation coming over the small speakers but you knew he’d be keeping a close eye.

Swinging your feet to one side you threw them to the opposite almost succeeding and rolling to your side but you fell back onto your belly with a soft grunt.

“One moment.” Steve said with a hint of annoyance.

He muted his mic and walked a few paces to your struggling form, still pathetically attempting to turn on your side.

His fingers dove between the band of the ball gag and your scalp keeping you stock still. He tipped your head up looking down at you through his lashes, “If you make any more noise, I won’t hesitate to get the wand and leave you strapped to it until dinner.”

You whimpered under his hard stare, eyes falling to the floor in humiliation.

“Understand?”

You slowly blinked in response, moaning around the gag causing more drool to slip out the corners of your lips.

“That’s my Good Girl.” Steve beamed, slipping his hold from the gag and turning you back onto your belly. Your ribs compressed against the flooring uncomfortably causing you to groan as he walked back to the table and unmuted his mic.

“Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

His eyes flicked to you, wishing you’d make a noise just so he could watch you suffer a bit longer in the intricate bondage. The thought of standing over your body as you squirmed and cried out to him made his cock harden.

“Not a problem, Mr. Rogers.” A fellow colleague chimed before breaking off into hapless chatter.

The discussion passed by slowly. You stared at the base of the kitchen island and at the rug where you’d stand while doing dishes, barely listening to the conversation.

It was hard work keeping your head up for so long. The muscles in your neck screamed at you to let them rest. The tendons were burning and felt ready to snap at any moment. You tried to move again, wiggling your secured body as much as you could away from the growing puddle beneath your chin.

You struggled endlessly, trying to not hit the ground with your knees as you gained enough drive to fall onto your side with an ‘oopmh’. Your face pinched, a mix of fear and failure painting your features knowing everyone on the call heard you. 

If your jaw could tremble it would’ve once your eyes landed on Steve.

He hid the fiery blaze well when a co-worker asked if everything was ok. Steve flashed his million-dollar smile and smoothed a hand over his beard, “All good, Ma’am.”

As much as the pain receded in your arms and your feet no longer felt numb, the shame of disappointing Steve consumed you. You let your head fall to the side, resting while you could because once the chat was over you knew there would be hell to pay.

Not long after you shut your eyes you heard feet pounding closer to your frame shocking you from the light slumber.

Steve pulled you back onto your belly by your arms and loosened the knot at your knees before forcing a wand vibrator harshly between your thighs and nestling it against your folds flicking the power on to the highest setting.

Your body jolted sharply in the binds. You wriggled trying to lessen the intense vibrations as they pulsed through your core.

“You brought it on yourself, Doll.” He crooned, stepping on your arms with his wing tipped shoes forcing you to pause your movements, “If you want to make it up to me, you’ll stay still.”

He unlaced a cord of rope from your ankles and unstrapped the ball gag from your tired, over stretched lips. He gave you a moment to work your jaw around, easing the tension it held before looping a strand of rope around your neck and pulling taut.

Your head was now locked in an upright position by the rope around your ankles keeping you exactly how he wanted.   

“You fucked up big time… but I’ll just take it out on these pretty little holes.” You whimpered pitiably as his fingers dove between your lips causing you to sputter and cough. His free hand pulled out his girthy cock and tapped it over your tear-stained cheeks.

The powerful sensation between your legs was making you squeal and shimmy your body, unsure if you were trying to get away or move closer to the wicked piece of plastic.

“Look at you making such a mess.” He grinned wickedly as he lined up his cock to your swollen, spit soaked lips. “These are my fuck holes. Isn’t that right?”

You instinctively nod, cutting off your air with the rope as it pulled on your ankles. Your eyes bug fearfully as your breathing diminishes quickly. Steve loosens the tension with his fingers, sliding between the rope, “Gotta be careful, Sweetheart. I’m the only one who decides when you breathe and when you don’t.” He says with a sly grin.

Suddenly, his cock slides past your lips with a swift punch to your tonsils and it makes you heave.

“Shhh, you’ve taken my cock like this many times, don’t be so dramatic.”

His hips shove forward, grunting with every pass over your tongue as he slots his hands behind your head and literally skull fucks you. There was no time to breathe, his thrusts were so fast and steady you only got air when he allowed it.

Spit and precum fell from your lips, traveling down your neck and gracing your bosom as his balls slapped against your sticky chin. Steve looked like a lewdly pantied watercolor as you shed tears freely while he had his way with your mouth.

He pushed on your ankles, forcing the rope to tighten around the sensitive column of your neck, muffling, frantic moans vibrated his cock as you struggled in your binds like a wild bird caught in a net.

“I love it when you get desperate, makes my cock so fucking hard.” He growled, releasing his grip on your ankles and sliding free from your lips.

You suck in panicky breaths before his bulbous crown is kissing your lips once more. The rope eats into your skin with every needy thrust, pushing you closer to the edge as the vibrations from the wand make your core spasm.  

“Can’t believe you haven’t come yet. You must be learning, Doll.” He teased, leaning over your frame and grabbing the wand, “But right now, you’re gonna come.”

Spit landed on your plump cheeks, dripping down to your puckered hole, “Gonna have you screamin’ around my cock. Hell, maybe I’ll even make you pass out. I’ve always wanted to try that.”

There was no time to consider his threat as a digit swirled around your rim before pushing past the tight muscle. His cock rumbled from your hearty moans as he fingered your ass, double penetrating you brazenly.

Everything was too much and not enough. He brought you to the edge so quickly as he dragged his finger over your walls and invaded your taste buds with his musk.

“There’s nowhere to go, Sweetheart. I want you to come, so you’re gonna come.” He ordered before shoving his length into your throat and cutting off your air. Your body shook in the confines when he added a second finger, spreading you open obscenely.

The twisting in your belly goes taut and you scream your blissful release around his thickness. He slides from your lips finally allowing you to breathe as you suck in copious amounts of oxygen and try not to cough them away.

Steve shifts back onto his knees, sliding his fingers from your hole before wrapping them around his spit soaked length, curling with precision as the burning in your lungs tempers.

His face pinches with ecstasy as he jerks his cock over you, ragged grunts fill the room when he comes with a deep growl. Warmth hits your face in abundance; splatters of thick seed coat your skin, sticking to your brow and hairline. 

The spend slowly dries in a rich layer as you hear him shuffle and zip his pants. “Well, you’ve got about another hour and a half to go before dinner.” Steve mentioned in passing, as he glanced at his wrist watch.

Steve didn’t bother to wipe his seed from your face, pleased with how debauched you looked hogtied on the kitchen floor. His sticky spend sealing your eyes shut as you writhed under the forceful vibrations from the wand still strapped to your mound.

He fixed the ball gag back into your mouth, “tsks” at your annoyed whimpers when you pathetically fought him. By the time he opened his laptop and set to work again, you screamed out in euphoria as your second of many orgasms that afternoon consumed you.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 8

Lazy Mornings:  A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1226

Warnings: Injuries, food

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself.  When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 8

It was raining and Steve’s body ached.  Not in that pleasant, after a workout or marathon sex session way either.  He just hurt.  The last mission he’d been on had been rough.  It had worked out, but not after having his ass kicked by two different supers and jumping off the top of a 10 story building and using his shield and a plate glass conservatory ceiling to break his fall.  He was cut up, bruised, and he was pretty sure he had broken more than one rib.  Definitely one was broken, he could feel how it moved when he poked it, grinding against itself and jabbing his lung uncomfortably.  He thought maybe it was three.  Whatever the case, he was in pain and exhausted, and yet he was completely relaxed.

When the team had gotten back, he’d let the medical staff check everyone over, including himself.  They’d had a quick debrief with orders to get some food and sleep and reconvene in the morning, and then he’d dismissed everyone.  Normally he forced them all the stay for a full debriefing, but he knew tonight was useless.  Everyone had been pushed to their limit, and they’d just end up falling asleep at the table.

Besides, all he wanted from the moment he got on the Quin, was to see you.

It had been an interesting experience showing up to your place all battered like he was.  Rather than you relaxing him, he had made your adrenaline spike and you’d gone into overdrive trying to take care of him.  You’d dragged him inside, touching all over his body and kissing his cheeks and neck as you tried to decide if he should, in fact, be here with you or in the medbay with morphine.  When you seemed to settle on him being well enough to be with you, you’d drawn him a bath using Epsom salts and left him to soak while you’d gone to order dinner and make him cocoa.

He was wrapped up in one of your handmade quilts on the couch now, a mug of cocoa in his hand.  It had both whipped cream and marshmallows in it and was far too sweet for his taste.  You seemed to realize that as you approached him with a bottle of Scotch.

“Here,” you said, pouring a very generous amount into the little room he had in the cup.  “I know you can’t get drunk, but maybe it will take the edge off.”

“I’m fine,” Steve chuckled, taking your hand and pulling you a little closer to him.  “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you said as you began playing with his hair.  “But I want to  It makes me feel better.  Besides, look at you.  You look like someone put you in the washing machine on max.”

Steve chuckled and winced at the pain in his chest when he did.  “Feels a little like that too, if I’m honest.”

“See,” you said and kissed the top of his head.  “You just heal.”

There was a knock at the door and you pulled away from Steve.  “That’ll be the food.”

He watched you go and collect dinner, tipping the delivery driver generously before heading into your kitchen with the bags.  When you returned it was with a tray laden with different things.

“I had very specific ideas of what you needed to eat right now,” you said as you brought the tray over.  “But not too many places nearby that make it are still open right now.  Thankfully I found one place that had close enough.”

You placed the tray in front of him.  You had laid it out with a lace placemat and a flower in a small glass vase.  There was a bowl of steaming Matzah Ball Soup and a plate of roast chicken and vegetables.  There was even a side of corned beef hash and a warm dinner roll.  All the kind of food he considered comfort food as a kid, but never really got to see on his plate very often.  Or if it was, it was an anemic, watered-down version.

“This looks perfect,” he said.  “Didn’t you get yourself anything?”

“I did.  I just can’t carry that much at once,” you joked and went back into the kitchen.

Steve started eating and soon you had returned and sat down beside him with your own tray.

“This is really nice,” Steve said.

“That’s good. I’ve never ordered from them before,” you answered.  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“No… I mean… well, yes -the food,” Steve said.  “But I mean this.  Coming here to you.  It’s really… I love you.”

Your spoon stopped midway to your mouth and a smile slowly crossed your features.  You put your tray on the coffee table and then carefully took his off his lap and did the same.  Steve couldn’t help smiling at how careful and methodical you were being.  Your hands went to his cheeks and you looked deep into his eyes.  “I love you too,” you said, and brought your lips to his.

Steve hummed and tilted his head, kissing you deeply.  The ache in his ribs throbbed lightly but he ignored it as he wrapped his arm around you and drew you closer to him.  You pulled back and ran your hand gently down his chest.  “Did I hurt you then?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek.  “You should finish your dinner.”

Steve playfully stuck out his bottom lip.  “But I don’t want to.”

You laughed and smacked him gently on the shoulder.  “Go on.  No shenanigans for you until you’re at least fed.”

He settled back and you passed him his tray again.  “I don’t know if you’ve thought much about us,” Steve said.  “I think about it a lot.  I keep overthinking how I feel about you and how this will work when we’re so different.  But I love this and I love you.  I hope we can have some kind of future together.”

You turned so you were sitting cross-legged and rubbed his thigh.  “I can see one too, Steve.  I know our lives are very different, and we are very different people.  But I think that’s a good thing.  For so long, I felt like I was just going along existing and never connecting to anyone in any real way.  But I feel like I have with you.  I feel alive with you.”

“What about that thing you said… where I’d stop appreciating you if I spent too much time here?” Steve asked.

You shrugged.  “I guess it’s a risk.  But maybe it’s a good thing.  Maybe instead of feelings and ideas, we can be real people together.”

Steve smiled and leaned into you a little.  “I like that,” he said.  “I think that’s what I’ve been missing.  Taking time for myself to be Steve and not just Captain America.”

You nodded.  “And I have been the same.  Always just a feeling, never a person who had them.”

Steve leaned over and kissed you tenderly.  Despite the broken ribs and the cuts and bruises, he felt good.  Alive.  And worthy of having a real life.  He could see a full one with you, and he looked forward to seeing how it would play out.

~ END ~

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, mentions of abuse, mentions of miscarriage, eventual STALKING/KIDNAPPING/NON-CON

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

Also this series will be based off of one of my worst fears, so you guys have fun with this.

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

You threw the last of your empty boxes into the garbage in front of your house. Your back ached, and your legs were screaming for a reprieve, but you’d been determined to finish unpacking by the end of the day. And so you had.

The cicadas were loud in the nearby trees, the dark sky decorated with stars. Though you were back down south, you’d forgotten how cool the nights could get. You tightened your sweater around you as you looked along the street. In the years past, so much had changed…but a lot had remained the same.

With a sigh, you turned to make your way back into the house. You’d been running like a train nonstop for the past 3 days, determined to completely unpack and get settled long before school started back. You wanted one less thing to worry about.

You placed your back against the door as you closed it, taking a calming breath and locking it. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were safe. Your ex-husband was far away and none the wiser to your location. You had nothing to be afraid of. You chanted this to yourself until you were able to finally move away from the door.

Your modest house was so quiet, and you welcomed the silence as you made your way upstairs. The atmosphere was so peaceful, and for the first time in a long time, you could hear your own thoughts. Living with Aldrich for so long, you’d forgotten what that had felt like.

He was regularly criticizing anything he could think of, his biting words packaged in a smile that was a tad too wide. Kissing you a tad too harsh and grabbing you a tad too tight. You honestly didn’t know how you’d put up with it for so long. You were disappointed with yourself, but even more disappointed that it took a miscarriage for you to finally leave him.

It should never have come to that.

You settled into bed, somewhat uncomfortable, but only in a way that was unfamiliar to you. You were alone and safe and at peace for the first time in years. Determined to have a good night’s sleep, you pushed painful thoughts out of your mind, and vowed to make your regrets fuel your new future.

The grocer handed your bags to you with a shy smile on his face, cheeks flushing when your fingers brushed over his.

“Thanks,” you told him.

“Have a good day,” he recited, something he probably said a hundred times a day.

You left with a quiet ‘you too’ thrown over your shoulder before making your way outside. The town was filled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. Sure, you’d been gone for almost 10 years, but you hadn’t expected your small town to have expanded this much in a million years.

You noticed a scratch on the side of your car when you neared it, and you took a closer look. With a huff, you looked around, but no one was parked near you and no shopping carts were close by either. Convincing yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, you settled into your car and placed your groceries in the passenger seat.

As you drove down the familiar street, you chuckled to yourself, recalling how you vowed to never return here. The universe had a twisted sense of humor that way because here you were, almost 10 years later, seeking sanctuary in the one place you hated most. Perhaps, in a way, this was your life lesson.

You’d been so desperate to get out of this backwards small town that you’d run off with the first man to give you the chance. How foolish you were then to think you were in love. You were just barely an adult, could hardly even be called one. Aldrich Killian was older and gorgeous and most importantly, he’d been going places.

A chance of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had placed him in your nowhere town, and you’d fallen head over heels immediately. He took to you just the same, and there was no hesitation whatsoever to run off with him to the big city. You left everything and everyone behind without a backwards glance.

He hid his true nature well. So well that it took you an entire two years into the relationship to learn about the other women. Having traveled all the way to New York on his coattails, you’d been distraught…and hurt. You may have been silly then, but not that silly.

He came home the next day to find you gone. His money made it easy for him to track you down at a friend’s place though, and the romantic in you was swayed by the sight of the powerful man on his knees, begging for your forgiveness. Surprisingly, he was true to his word, and from then on out, you were the only one.

But your relief was short-lived. You soon came to find out that these other women had something in common with the way he treated them, and with them out of the picture, you soon had that very same thing in common too.

It started out small. A raised voice here, a harsh grip there, but then he’d slapped you. Real hard too. It had left your ears ringing, and you’d been so shocked, that you didn’t see the next one coming. It became a regular occurrence, but it was always followed up by gifts and apologetic words. He’d be good for a few days, and it became easy to believe things would change. But like clockwork, the cycle repeated.

You hadn’t even known that you were pregnant when he shoved you down the stairs. You could only blink in shock when the doctor told you that you’d suffered a miscarriage. That was one of the first things you heard when you woke up inside of the hospital, and the sudden loss of something you didn’t even know you had was heartbreaking.

So when they asked for the truth, suspicion already in their eyes as they looked at the fading bruises and the fresh ones, you gave it to them without hesitation. Proving it was easy enough, and the divorce papers had been drawn up in no time, but Aldrich had money. A lot of it too.

He didn’t even do some measly community service.

You scoffed in the quiet car, hands tightening on the wheel. All of that was over now. You were back home and far away from him. Things would be different now. They had to be…

You frowned when your car started to sputter, confusion filling you as your eyes widened. You looked at the dash, and your confusion grew as you realized you were completely out of gas. A disbelieving scoff left you as you had no choice but to turn your car off. You sat back in your seat with a sigh, blinking as you realized that you had no one to call.

All of your family was gone, and all of your former friends had long left. The ones that hadn’t, the bridge had been burned long ago. Grabbing yours keys and your purse and the few grocery bags you had, you decided you’d have to walk home. It wasn’t too far of a walk. In New York, it’d be considered nothing.

It was late in the evening though, and you were sure it was going to be dark before you reached your house. You didn’t feel comfortable just leaving your car on the side of the road, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. This stretch of road was lengthy, and the thought of being out here at night made you nervous.

You squinted when red and blue reflected off of the pavement from over your shoulder. You looked over just as a police cruiser pulled up beside you. Your heart skipped a beat when the person inside turned it off and proceeded to exit the car. He curved around the front of the car, and you blinked at the full sight of him.

His blond hair was neatly pushed away from his face, and you sharply inhaled at his handsome features. He was tall, and his blue eyes were focused entirely on you as he approached you. His smile was kind, inviting even, and you were tempted to return it, but something prevented you from doing so. He reminded you of your ex-husband, and you warily eyed the way his uniform hugged him, plastered to the bands of muscle that were his arms.

“Evening, ma’am,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” you murmured.

“Was that your car I passed not too long ago?”

You looked in the direction of where you left your car before nodding.

“I…ran out of gas. Which is odd because I was sure I had over half a tank when I left home,” you told him.

He chuckled, and you frowned at him. Catching sight of your glower, he shook his head, taking a step towards you.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems that the punks in this town got another victim.”

He pointed in the direction of your car.

“You got yourself an older model, one that doesn’t require the gas cap to be opened from the inside. They like to steal gas from whoever they can,” he explained.

With a scoff, you realized they were still pulling that mess the teens did before you left. How silly of you to think the kids here would move onto bigger and better things. The blond before you spoke before you had the chance to.

“You live far?”

You squinted up at him, hesitating before eventually shaking your head.

“Not really…no.”

You watched as he walked to the passenger side, opening the door as he faced you.

“Let me drive you home,” he offered.

Your face pinched, wondering how to refuse. You didn’t get in the car with strangers, no matter their profession. You started to shake your head.

“It’s not that far. I can walk-.”

“It’s going to get dark soon, and you need to get those groceries in the fridge.”

He wasn’t wrong, but still, you hesitated. He threw you a crooked smile, leaning his arm on the open door now.

“I won’t be able to rest if I don’t know you made it home, so if you don’t get in, I’ll just have to ride alongside you,” he teased.

Although, you got the feeling that he was entirely serious. Reluctantly, you walked towards the cruiser.

“Okay.”

He closed the door for you as you made yourself comfortable, clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Are you really that responsible or is it just because you’re in the car with me?” he wondered with a chuckle as he sat beside you.

“Just that responsible,” you murmured as he started the car.

You gave him directions to your house, and he followed them with a hum.

“You’re new,” he suddenly said.

It was a statement, not a question, and you frowned.

“Hardly,” you said, shaking your head.

“Huh. I’ve never seen you around…”

You squirmed in your seat at his questions, and you fought with yourself. You told yourself that you were just so skittish after your ex-husband, and you told yourself to calm down. This man wasn’t him.

“I only recently moved back,” you eventually replied.

“How long you been gone?”

He took a left, and you blew out a breath.

“Almost…10 years?”

He let out a low whistle, tapping his finger on the wheel.

“No wonder. I moved to town about 6 years ago. 10 years is an awfully long time,” he noted. “What made you come back?”

“Divorce.”

He didn’t respond right away, and you could feel him eyeing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly said.

“Don’t be,” you honestly replied.

You pointed at your house, and he pulled into the yard. You tried not to be so obvious as you hurried to get out of his car. You were halted by a hand on your arm, and you looked over at him.

“Don’t worry about your car. I’ll get some gas in it and make sure it arrives here safe and sound,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to-.”

“Don’t worry about it. Consider as part of my job description.”

You nodded, finally throwing him a small smile.

“Thank you…” you eyed his badge. “Officer Rogers.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Please…call me Steve.”

You simply replied with a strained smile before exiting the car. He watched you as you made your way to your door, and when you finally got it open, you waved him goodbye. He returned it, but he didn’t drive off. Not even when you closed and locked the door.

Through the window, you watched him sit there for a while, longer than you deemed necessary. Eventually, he pulled out of your yard, and you turned to put your groceries away with a frown.

“Y/N Y/L/N… I haven’t seen you in ages…”

You glanced up at the familiar voice, and your eyes widened as they connected with familiar blue ones. You blinked.

“Wanda,” you greeted in surprise. “…hi.”

She placed her hand on the chair across from you, grinning as her reddish-brown hair spilled around her shoulders.

“So you’re back,” she said.

“So I am,” you nodded. “You look great!”

“You’re one to talk. When you skipped town, you were this confused little girl who didn’t know who she was trying to be. Now you come back here and you’re like something out of every miserable husband’s wet dream,” she teased.

You scoffed at that, shaking your head.

“Hardly…”

“Still as blind as ever, I see. Are you back in the old house?” she wondered.

You shook your head.

“No. I considered it, but… It’s too painful,” you told her.

She solemnly nodded, and you perked up.

“So…do you work here?” you wondered, glancing around the impressive diner.

She smirked.

“Sort of. It’s actually kind of mine now…”

Your lips parted, and a genuine smile fell over them.

“You bought it,” you said, in awe.

“I did,” she breathed, glancing around. “I always said I would…but part of me didn’t think I’d ever do it.”

“…but you did! And it looks amazing! You actually turned this place into something worth coming to,” you complimented her.

She hummed, taking the seat in front of you as she looked around with a wistful sigh.

“This could’ve been ours, you know…”

She looked at you, and you glanced away.

“Yeah, well… I was too busy chasing dick,” you replied, and she laughed.

“You were young and in love! If I’d had an Aldrich Killian offering to whisk me away from here, I’d have done the same too.”

“…and I would have locked you away to prevent you from ruining your life,” you threw back.

Her smile fell, and her eyes dimmed a tad as she studied you.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. I’m not sure there ever was…”

There was a brief awkward silence, and she suddenly sighed.

“Was he the reason you didn’t come for the funerals?”

You didn’t reply, but there was no need to. She shook her head.

“I knew you wouldn’t just…not come. Everybody else was so convinced, but not me. I knew there had to be a good reason… Where did he drag you to anyway?”

You leaned back in your chair with a wistful smile.

“New York.”

“Was it at least fun?”

You mulled over her question before you shook your head.

“No. Aldrich…liked women,” you said with a shrug.

Wanda’s face fell at that.

“…and…when he gave those women up so I would stay, I found out that…he liked hitting women even more,” you quietly continued.

“Y/N,” she whispered, reaching across the table to take your hand.

“I’m past it…mostly. Some of us just have to learn our life lessons the hard way,” you told her with a shrug.

“Don’t say that. You loved him! That’s hardly worthy of a punishment. Sometimes, people are just shitty, and it has nothing to do with us.”

The bell over the door rang from behind you, and Wanda loudly welcomed them without even glancing up. Several voices filled the establishment, and you noted that they traveled and congregated to a table in the back corner, behind you. You heard footsteps approaching, and Wanda finally glanced up. You watched as she grinned at the newcomer.

“Steve!”

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, it was the officer from the other day. You didn’t know if he was on break or getting off of a shift, but he was still in uniform. His hands were on his hips as he looked between you two, a slow smile moving along his pink lips.

“Wanda…ma’am,” he greeted.

Wanda gestured to you.

“This is my friend-.”

“We’ve actually already met, but I never did get the pleasure of learning your name…”

You cleared your throat, feeling put on the spot as Wanda looked at you.

“Y/N,” you told him.

His smile slowly widened, and he ran his eyes over your face, drinking you in.

“Y/N,” he greeted again. “It’s nice to put a name to the face.”

You simply replied with a tense smile as you laid your arms on the table.

“Wanda, me and the rest of the crew are going to have the usual,” he told her.

“Of course! I’ll get Gwen to get right on it.”

He smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

He looked to you, blue eyes connecting with yours.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged with a nod just before leaving.

“You’re in town for five minutes and already have an admirer,” she slyly said once he was out of earshot.

“No, I’m in town for five minutes, and you’re already trying to set me up,” you corrected.

She waved you off.

“I’m just saying…he’s nice. I’m not telling you to marry the guy, but he’s a good man. As squeaky clean as they come,” she told you.

“So you’re saying that’s what I need?” you sarcastically wondered.

“I’m not saying you need anything. I just think it’d be nice for you…and he clearly likes you. Leave it to you to be back for five minutes and catch the eye of the most sought-after man in town,” she breathed. “Every woman within a 75-mile radius has been trying to bag Steve Rogers ever since he breezed into the city limits 6 years ago.”

“Well then you take him.”

“I would, but I’m happily taken. Besides, he seems to have his eye on someone else. How did you meet him anyway?”

You happily told her of your embarrassing encounter with the man that was sitting not even 5 tables away.

You watched as the tow truck pulled your car just beside the curb in front of your house. Officer Rogers and his cruiser were parked on the other side of the driveway, and the blond man leaned against the vehicle as he supervised the process. Only a few minutes later, and your car was back, and the truck was driving off as Steve waved them off.

You hugged your sweater to you as you approached him. He met you halfway, and you sent him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “You honestly didn’t have to do that. I could’ve easily put some gas in it and drove it home.”

“…but you would’ve had to walk to the gas station to fill a gas jug, and then walk to your car,” he said, shaking his head. “It was nothing, really.”

“Either way, I still feel bad. I was more than capable…”

He chuckled.

“So how do you know Wanda? You girls go way back or something?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “We were two troublemakers.”

He found that funny, maybe because Wanda was so different now. He rubbed the side of his neck, and his face slowly began to fall.

“When you told me your name, I thought it sounded familiar, you know. You’re Y/N Y/L/N…aren’t you?”

Your own visage grew solemn, and you slowly nodded.

“I’m sorry about your family. I know it happened years ago, but… I wanted to offer my condolences all the same,” he whispered.

You took a deep breath, chest clenching.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that…and for my car,” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “You really didn’t have to do that…nor drive me home that night.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly, and his blue eyes sparkled.

“Well…if you’re feeling that bad about it…treat me to dinner,” he offered.

You blinked, taken off guard by his bold proposal, and your lips parted as words failed you. He ran his eyes over you as he waited for your response. You thought about Wanda’s words. She assured you that he was a good guy, and to be honest, you wanted a good guy…but not yet.

Your divorce had only been finalized a few months ago, and you really needed time to yourself. You were barely an adult when you ran off with Aldrich, and you’d spent the last decade with him. You wanted to know who you were when you weren’t with him. You owed yourself that.

“I uh…I’m flattered, really, but… I’m not really interested in anything like that for the time being,” you honestly replied.

His eyes dimmed just a bit, but the smile never wavered. You felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. Besides, it just…doesn’t seem appropriate for some reason.”

Steve sharply inhaled and nodded.

“I understand. Have a good night,” he said before taking a step back and turning to go to his car.

You sighed as you watched him go, but you knew that it was for the best. You made your way inside of your quiet house, hoping for a good night of sleep, but sleep did not easily find you.

Too many things were on your mind.

Seeing Wanda brought back so many memories that you would honestly rather forget. She reminded you of a time you spent sneaking out to meet her, idly dreaming of things you halfway hoped to accomplish. An already rocky relationship with your family that only crumbled when you took off.

You thought about how you didn’t talk to them for years, too busy following Aldrich around like a lost dog. You’d thought you had more time. You had put off what you knew you needed to do again and again. You thought the chance would always be there…until it wasn’t.

In a single night, your entire family had been ripped away from you. A car accident. Something so simple. Aldrich hadn’t even let you go to the funeral. By then, he’d grown possessive, and it wasn’t long after that he started putting his hands on you. Part of you thought he’d waited until you had no one to run to.

You sat up in bed when you heard a noise on the side of your house. You were upstairs, and the fact that it was loud enough to reach your ears worried you. Slowly, and quietly, you left your bed, creeping towards the window.

At first, you didn’t see anything and thought that you’d imagined it. However, what you thought was a part of the general darkness, moved. Your eyes widened, and you reached for your phone, immediately dialing 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

You stumbled over your address, the numbers and street name still new to you, but you shakily told her about the strange man in your yard. Your eyes didn’t leave him the entire time, and relief didn’t fill you when the silhouette eventually left.

One of the upsides to a small town was that it took no time for you to hear sirens coming from down the street. You hurriedly ran downstairs, opening the door as the cruiser pulled into your yard. Steve greeted you, and you did calm down a bit at the familiar face.

“Is he still here?” was the first thing he asked, one hand on his gun.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, placing one hand on your heart and the other on your forehead.

He briefly touched your shoulder before telling you he was going to secure the perimeter of the property. You stood in your doorway while he did so, trying, and failing, to convince yourself that you’d imagined it. After all, the worst thing to happen in your town was your family’s car accident. Strange men skulking about people’s homes was unheard of.

When Steve was done, he shook his head at you, one foot on your steps.

“It’s all clear.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be relieved.

“Are you sure it was a man? Not some animal?”

You shrugged.

“I…don’t know. I was trying to fall asleep just before so it’s possible. I’m sorry,” you apologized.

He sighed.

“It’s alright. This is my job, remember? This is what I’m here for,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “I appreciate it, Steve.”

He paused, blue eyes connecting with yours as the corner of his lips curved upwards into a smirk.

“That’s Officer Rogers to you.”

You blinked, brows furrowing just a tad as he turned away.

“You try to get some sleep,” he threw over his shoulder.

You hurriedly closed your door as he drove away, frown deepening as you mulled over his cold behavior.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @darkficreposter​ @mcudarklibrary​ @jtargaryen18​ @kellyn1604​ @readermia​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @coconutqueen21​ @briannab1234​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​

[muffinwalloper]

Let's talk about the villain's wardrobe - Cruella De Vil (Part III)

As I've pointed out in Part I, Cruella's character is shown immensely through her wardrobe. She wears gloves with nails on them, loves furs and animalprints in general and everything about her is meant to make everyone's eyes follow her.

Now, this is the first outfit she wears in the movie. While the costume is strictly business with a high collar, there are a few details that make it stand out. For one, the stripes are made out of glitter which is not only an eyecatcher but also adds a glamour to the outfit whenever Cruella moves in it. The details such as the mix of black and white fit her hair perfectly and the sharp looking shoulder pats make her appear broader than she actually is (she's rather short and thin) which means, her outfit helps her to take up more space than she physically can. Paired with her beloved heels and gloves it radiates professionalism. Of course, she wouldn't forget the fur, which she carries as a coat with a long trail which makes her appear like a royal (remember the family crest). Also, there's a frowst which she carries for stylish reasons, also in black and white. Her hat, along with the net surrounding it was a perfect choice for her introduction because it hides half of her face and again, adds something royal and ladylike to her appearance. Everything about that outfit screams highclass. Signature makeup: the blood red lipstick and her black eyeliner. Her hair is positively wild but when she's in her office and has set down her hat, she checks it in a mirror and makes sure it stays that wild. I think it might be another way for Cruella to take up as much space as she can.

Not sure if it's a dress or a dressing gown, though I think it might be a gown because she only wears it in her private home. Again, the black and white combination is outstanding. Her hair looks a little tamer than before which is probably due to the fact that this is supposed to be Cruella's 'lazy outfit'. The arms and the collar are littered with feathers and again, there is a long trail at the back, also made of feathers. She's wearing gloves again, though this time of a thinner material but still with nails on them. It also has a deep cleavage which is also one of Cruella's outfit signatures: sexually revealing. In contrast to Anita who never wears anything with a cleavage and mostly pullovers in grey or beige colours, Cruella's clothes are always flashy and I wouldn't be surprised if they were uniques that she has designed herself. In combination with furs and her striking makeup she uses her sexuality in an almost grotesque way. But all of that is her intention because no matter where and with whom Cruella is she needs to be the centre of attention at all times!

cleavage - check!

animal print - check!

gloves - check!

Notice how on the outside of the coat the print is tiger and inside the coat it's leopard. Underneath Cruella wears a combo of a tiger corset and a long black leather skirt. This time, she's wearing boots but still with heels. To make it a Cruella outfit you can't leave out the fur. Here, it looks like another frowst but this one's smaller than the black and white one. Also, her hair in this shot is tamer than it was in the scene where she wore this outfit:

Another outstanding feature is the high collar and the shoulder patches once more. Like in her first outfit, it makes her look broader than she is. Also, notice how she manages to get Anita and Roger to stand with their backs against the doorframe (in their home!) by simply pushing past them. Cruella's aware of the fact that she isn't the tallest person, so she accents other parts of her body to intimidate people. I mean, just look at this cleavage!! As for jewelry; I'm not sure what her bracelet is made of but as the rest of her attire, it looks agressive.

Now, for another outfit of Cruella which was cleverly used at the beginning of the movie to show the depths of her character:

At the very beginning of the film, it's established twice that the white tiger went missing from London zoo. Anita watches a report on TV on it while Roger reads about it in the morning paper. Only after Cruella's been introduced to the plot, the film shows a scene where Horrace and Jasper enter Cruella's private home to bring her the fur of said missing tiger. As the news already suspected that it might have to do with fur dealing, nobody would suspect a single fur obsessed woman behind it. This scene is important to show the audience how far Cruella is not only prepared but used to go to get what she wants. Perhaps she tried to buy the tiger first (as she did with the puppies) but was declined by the zoo. So, her reaction was to steal this endangered animal, let Skinner make a fur coat out of it and have it brought to her by her minions Horrace and Jasper. The puppies are not the first animals she's stolen and it's likely that she would do so with any animal as long as she loves their fur. Also, rewatch the scene when she takes the tiger fur to the mirror and basically starts flirting with it: it's downright creepy how obsessed she is!

Finally, her last outfit which she wears as she hunts down the puppies herself. As it's the film's climax where the tension is at its highest, so is Cruella's mania and it's reflected in her outfit. She wears a blood red and black attire with leather pants and boots and the thickest fur coat of the entire film. At times, she has trouble to move in it and it actively slows her down and puts her at a disadvantage on her hunt for the puppies. However, she doesn't even think of taking it off. It's like the fur has become a part of her that drags her down to her inevitable ruin. The aggressive colour also shows that her mind is completely off the rails now and that she's out of control. Also, as her name is devil, the colours fit those of a demonic being and she finally looks no longer like a lady but like the monster she is inside. Again, the bracelet and the earrings this time look aggressive but even more so because they remind you of teeth and/or a razer. The claw gloves are of course firmly in place again.

To sum up: Cruella's outfits all follow the theme of animal and/or monster. She wears the fur of endangered species, has literal claws on her hands and her blood red lipstick accentuates her pearly white teeth which she loves to flash at anyone. On top of that, the sexually revealing aspects of her outfits come across as agressive and excessive, serving the purpose of making anyone look at her but feeling uncomfortable at the same time. As the saying goes: clothes make the woman, for Cruella this one's 100 percent true!

[nationalharryleague]

Overnight

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: AU, Angst, lil bit of fluff, best friends to enemies to lovers

Word count: 3.3k!

A/N: Hi! I don’t think I’ve ever posted a fic on this blog before and I haven’t really written in about five years, so please be nice!! I’m very nervous and I would love some feedback if you have any :) Also, this is loosely based on Overnight by Maggie Rogers (it’s a wonderful song, give it a listen) Thank you so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found here! 

You would have known that voice anywhere. It was smooth and deep and laced with the most perfect accent that you had ever heard. His voice penetrated the crowd of the bar and found its way to you, like he was speaking only for you. He sounded like music to your ears, but that of a song that hung heavy in your heart.

You clenched your hands tight around the glass that held your whiskey, the uncomfortable feeling of knowing he was here invading your thoughts. You wanted to run and you quickly gulped the rest of your drink. The back of your throat burned from the alcohol as you reached for your coat that had accompanied you and your friends in the booth. A curt “I have to go,” left your lips as you made a b-line for the door, needing to escape the bar that felt so small and suffocating all of a sudden.

You didn’t mean to look over your shoulder. It was a subconscious need to get one good look at him before you escaped that took over your body. He had been talking to a pretty girl, but his eyes looked over her shoulder and they locked with yours. It felt like you knew those eyes in a different lifetime; everything was so different now. Those eyes lit up when he registered your face, quickly excusing himself from the girl and beginning to move towards you.

You panicked as you realized he was coming near, fighting your way through bodies towards the exit. As you felt the shockingly cold air of a New York City winter hit your skin, you also sensed a familiar hand grab yours. It was warm. He had always been so warm. You could barely make out the rings that sat on his fingers, but you could see them so clearly in your mind. The mix of gold and silver jewelry that you had played with when it was the only thing either of you had on was burned into your brain. You ripped yourself away from those happy memories and your hand from his.

“You are not allowed to touch me anymore,” you attempted to shout, but it came out as a whimper. It was like as soon as your eyes connected, he stole all of your power.

“Y/N, please,” he breathed. “I just need to talk to you.” His eyes looked desperate and a small part of you felt triumphant. Your prayers that he missed you had come true but the tidal wave of emotions you were feeling dimmed any joy you could have felt.

“Harry, you made it very obvious that I didn’t fit into your life,” you hissed. “You’ve done enough talking to make it crystal clear that I was just a fuck to you.” Tears began to sting your eyes but you forced yourself to swallow them away. He didn’t get to see you cry over him.

“You know that’s not true. You were my best friend.” Your heart hurt with his use of the past tense, but was true. You hadn’t been best friends for a while.

“Best friends don’t lead best friends on while fucking other people.”

***

The night was warm and the air was balmy. The humidity hung around you on the front stoop while a party raged inside. The alcohol coursing through your veins had heated your body temperature and you found yourself sitting on the steps, trying to escape the heat.

A hand rested on your shoulder and you turned to see who it belonged to. A metallic glimpse of gold and silver rings signaled for you to let down your defenses, relaxing your muscles that were getting ready to run. A grin fell across your lips as you looked up to the owner of the rings.

“Hey,” you beamed. You couldn’t censor your adoration for the man in your altered state. You loved him and anyone paying attention could see it.

“Hey you,” he answered, sitting down on the front steps next to you. “How are you doing, my love?” The way he said ‘love’ made your cheeks heat further. He had called you ‘love’ since you had met in college, a hold over from growing up in England that had stuck years after graduation. The term of endearment had only been a sign of friendship to you until you began sleeping together a few months earlier. You had both agreed to a strictly platonic friends with benefits situation, but like in every movie written as a cautionary tale, you had quickly fallen for him. You were hopeful he felt the same about you. He was so affectionate and loving, you assumed that he was just waiting for the right time.

“I’m a little too drunk,” you said with a hiccup and a giggle. “I think you have to take care of me,” you murmured as you began to feel dizzy.

“I will,” he assured. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit and we’ll get you home, okay?” He pressed a familiar kiss to your head as he got up, disappearing back into the party.

You didn’t think much of him reentering the brownstone. You played on your phone and only decided to go look for him after a sweaty stranger plopped himself down next to you on the steps and began hitting on you. You didn’t want anyone else, just Harry. You scanned everyone inside, scaling the stairs as you continued searching for the floppy hair that you thought looked sexy pushed back. You giggled to yourself as you thought about how there was a Mean Girls joke to be made, but your face and heart dropped as you heard a familiar groan through the door at the top of the stairs. Your suspicions were confirmed as you heard a woman moan “Harry” at the top of her lungs.

You slammed the door open. He was on top of her, his muscular back shining with sweat in the light of the now open door and littered with scratch marks. He turned and looked back to tell whoever opened the door to get out, but paused when he saw your heartbroken face. “Oh my god,” he whispered, quickly moving off of her and covering himself up.

Your eyes began to fill with tears and blur your vision, but not before you realized you knew the girl in the bed. Her name was Grace and you had introduced the two earlier in the night. It clicked in your head. He left you on the porch when you needed him to go fuck your friend.

“I need to go,” you stammered, turning around and running from what you just saw. You held tight to the handrail, trying not to fall down the stairs because of your tear filled eyes and intoxication. Harry chased you down the stairs after you, ready to catch your wobbly body if you were to lose your balance.

“Y/N,” he shouted at you. “Talk to me!”

Once you were on the sidewalk, you whipped around to face him. The pain in your chest had been masked by explosive anger. “How fucking dense are you, Harry? Are you fucking blind?”

“What are you talking about?” he shouted back. His button up was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, his stomach fully exposed. You tried your best to focus and not let his butterfly cast its’ usual spell over you.

“I’m in love with you, Harry!” you screamed. It was the most obvious thing in the world for you. You couldn’t understand how he could sleep with someone else, especially while you were patiently waiting for him. He stood there quietly, chest still rising and falling rapidly. “I have made it so obvious. You are the center of my world. I drop everything for you at a moment’s notice.”

“We always said this was just sex, Y/N.” He spoke firmly, but you knew him well enough to hear the pang of guilt in his voice. “I didn’t mean for you to get that idea. I was never interested in anything romantically with you.”

“Then why do you call me pet names? Why do you always stay over after we hook up? Why do you hold me all night long? Why do you act like you’re my boyfriend?” you peppered him with rapid questions as you cried. The salty taste in your mouth signaled that the angry tears were now streaming down your face. “And even if it was just platonic and you never meant to give me that idea, you go and fuck my friend? That I introduced you to two hours ago? While I’m drunk and need you?”

His face fell and guilt coated his features. He tried to follow you down the sidewalk as you walked away from the brownstone and you nearly slapped him across the face. He looked down at the ground pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration while feeling the shame you hoped he would.

“I’ll get myself home,” you spat. “Do not call me. I don’t want to talk to you.”

***

It had been eight months since you had seen him last and seeing him at the bar knocked the air out of you. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head. Every time you closed your eyes, he stared back at you.

He had changed since you last saw him. He had a short beard, got a few more tattoos, and grew his hair out. His curls had returned and you couldn’t help but want to touch them. You missed looking at him. You missed everything about him.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you and a picture of Harry from years ago with space buns in his hair lit up the screen. You remembered that night; it was one of the happiest times of your life. Most of your happiest memories involve him somehow.

You had unblocked his number after you saw him at the bar a few nights ago and you weren’t sure why. You picked up the phone and debated if you wanted to answer it. You braced yourself and swiped a finger across the screen, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you squeaked out.

“Oh my god... hi Y/N,” he sounded surprised.

“Hi…” you drifted off.

“Um… I’m not sure what to say. I call a lot and you never pick up,” he confessed. “I don’t really have anything to tell you. I wasn’t expecting to get to talk to you.” You stayed silent, waiting for him to say something you could answer. “Um, can we meet up?” he choked out.

“I’ll be at our spot in an hour.”

True to your word, you were there within the hour. You were both sitting on your bench in Washington Square Park. If you looked close, you could still make out the tiny letters of ‘H+Y/N’ surrounded by a heart in the wood. You had carved it on a drunken night out during college when you both had gotten lost trying to find the way back to one of your apartments’. You rubbed your gloved fingers over it, trying to remind yourself why you were attempting to forgive him. You wanted your Harry back.

“I told myself everyday that I would eventually lose those feelings for you and we could just be friends again,” you mumbled, wanting to sink down into your coat and refusing to look at him in the eye. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist those eyes; you loved them too much. “But I spent months hoping you would realize how much I loved you one day, and that you would love me too.” Your voice was low and your cheeks were bright red from the cold, but mostly embarrassment. You were out of practice being vulnerable with him.

“Can you please look at me?” he asked, lifting your chin so your eyes would meet his. His fingers were so soft on your skin and you felt the cool metal of his rings. You recalled how they felt on the rest of your body and yearned to be close to him again. “Stop crying over me, my love.” He moved to wipe the tears off your face and you leaned into his hand at the sound of his old pet name for you.

“I have cried over you for so long,” you forced out the sentence, feeling so pathetic. “It feels natural at this point.” You watched his face twinge with remorse. He knew he caused all of this pain because of his own stupidity. He pulled you into his body, curling around you in an attempt to protect you after all he had done was hurt.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you,” he sighed. He had never apologized before, and hearing him show remorse made a more few tears slip down your face. “I was careless and didn’t pay close enough attention to how you were feeling. I should have been able to pick up every signal you sent me.”

“I agree,” you choked on a laugh through tears. He was quiet for a moment. You heard him take a breath to begin speaking again but you cut him off. “Why did you do it?” you questioned him. “We could have gone back to my apartment and you could have slept with me.”

“Because I was so afraid of how I felt about you,” he conceded after a long pause. “You were not the only one with feelings, Y/N.”

You were stunned. It had never crossed your mind that he might have felt the same way after how he treated you that night. You pulled away from his body to search his eyes for any hint of deceit, but he was telling you the truth. You breathed out a soft ‘oh,’ and attempted to process this new information.

“I don’t understand.”

“If you were so angry with me that you broke off our arrangement, I hoped that I could push everything down and just go back to the way things were before,” he explained. “When you confessed your feelings, I panicked. I should have come clean, but I didn’t and I broke your trust in more ways than one. I have called you nearly everyday since, trying to explain myself and take back everything I said, but you were shut off to me, rightfully so. I’m not asking for everything to go back to where we were, I’m just asking for your forgiveness. I can’t leave with us like this.”

And finally the picture for you was complete. You understood that night; the full motivations behind events that ruined you for over half a year.  For the first time since that night, you felt at peace. You weren’t worried that he never wanted to be with you, or angry that he had slept with Grace, or anxious that he would be out of your life forever. You felt the anger and resentment that had made itself home inside of you begin to melt away. You felt lighter.

“You have it.”

***

His eyes sparkled in spring’s late afternoon sunlight that was streaming through the coffee shop’s window. They peaked out from over his mug as he took a sip of his coffee, black with a single sugar, and you watched his movements carefully. You tried to take in as much of this time as you could, trying to create good memories to make up for the time you had lost.

It had been a few weeks since Harry had reentered your life and you had spent so much time together, sometimes it felt like you had never strayed from each other’s side. You hadn’t picked up where you had left off. You had decided to stay friends for the time being, agreeing it wasn’t the right time for a relationship, although you both wanted to be more. It was happier and healthier for both of you with everything life was throwing at you.

“What are you thinking?” he smirked. “You have your thinking face on.”

“That I missed this,” you confessed, bringing your own cup to your lips. You had missed everything about the time you spent with one another. You had been best friends for a reason.

“I never want it to end,” he remarked.

You sat in the coffee shop until the workers were cleaning up around you, talking about everything and anything under the sun. He had walked you home to your apartment, hand-in-hand, unable to say goodbye just yet. As you reached your front door, Harry reached for you and pulled you into a warm hug. You reached your arms around him and felt your sore muscles from helping him move out of his apartment the day before. You rested your head on his chest and just stood there for a moment. You both knew what was coming when you eventually pulled away.  

“I don’t want to leave you,” he exhaled into your hair.

“We’ll be okay,” you assured him. “We can make it through anything, right?” you asked, not sure if you were directing the question towards him or yourself.

Harry had been offered his dream job while you weren’t speaking. You were so proud of him when you found out, even if it was in London. The job was why he was so adamant about making up. He refused to leave New York until you were on speaking terms, afraid if he left, the two of you would be done forever.

You felt him begin to pull away after he checked his watch, knowing he needed to leave for the airport soon. You fought off the lump in your throat and steeled yourself so you wouldn’t cry. This was so good for him and you refused to make him feel guilty for taking this opportunity.

“I love you and I’m going to miss you so much,” he spoke as he held your face in his hands, eyes boring into yours. The love between you didn’t need to be classified as romantic or platonic anymore, it was just love.

Your heart broke as you said your goodbyes and watched him walk down your hallway. You made sure you watched until he turned a corner and you couldn’t see him any longer, making sure he was safe for as long as you could. You closed your apartment door behind you and fought off tears. You had faith in your relationship and knew you would make it.

As you moved to lay on your couch and cry it out, you heard a knock of your door. You knew that knock anywhere. You ran to the door and as you opened it, you felt Harry’s lips connect with yours. This kiss wasn’t lustful like ones you had shared in the past, just full of love and adoration for the other. He held you sweetly and your mind tried to memorize everything about this moment.  You stood there, tangled together, for several minutes, staying connected in the way you had never been before.

“I couldn’t leave without getting one last kiss,” he admitted when you both came up for air.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you beamed back at him.

You didn’t know what was next for you both, but you knew you had a future. You had been apart before, and you had always found your way back to each other. You had no doubts that you would again.

[emilycollins00]

Two faces of the same coin

Pairing: Tenma x ghost-looking! reader Part 1.

Hey! I had this awesome ask from sadly ages ago which I appreciated a lot bc honestly, just the fact that someone sent such a detailed thing?? My heart.

Request: (...) Tenma finds someone who looks like they got out straight from a horror movie- They could literally pass as a ghost anytime of the day! But once he talks to them they are just an extremely chill introvert, and actually really thoughtful and considerate? (...) So yeah, imagine Tenma who once was shitting his pants whenever that person was around slowly starting to enjoy their presence and even better: fall for them.

Enjoy! 💕

.

Classic horror icons and other disturbing creatures share common characteristics, pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, hunched posture, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire fear and revulsion in many with good reason. And while Tenma would insist he was okay with them- he really was and Yuki should really just shut up- he wouldn’t go out of his way to watch or read about that specific genre. And he was okay with that.

“A ghost in the school?”

He tried to not sound as worried as he internally felt, his brain still processing what Taichi was talking about while waiting for their drinks to drop. The redhead nodded unaware, eyes fixed on the vending machine “Yeah! You haven’t heard about it before?”

“W-why should I? It’s stupid to think paranormal stuff like ghosts exists anyway.”

With a clank, both drinks finally fell. Taichi crouched down to retrieve them humming happily, handing one of them to the summer troupe leader and keeping one for himself.

“I don’t know man, it’s kind of cool!” he crossed his arms behind his head, resuming their walk and looked behind. “What about you, Juza-san? You seen anything?”

The purple-haired boy considered it lazily, but ultimately shook his head. He didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, and Tenma was pretty sure the main thoughts running through his head were today’s melon bread from the cafeteria.

It had been a while since their Ouka-high group had been able to have lunch together.

“Did you see? That Sumeragi Tenma is back!”

“Gosh, he looks so handsome!”

“Wait- don’t push me!”

“I heard he’s going to be a possible cast in that famous saga-”

“Are you serious?”

Whispers and tiny squeals kept circling them as soon as they entered the boundaries of the canteen. And while Tenma barely notices it at first, he can definitely see Juza’s stance going more rigid and Taichi’s eyes glowing at the attention received.

“I’ll go get our lunch” the golden-eyed teen announces heading towards the queue, hands buried in his pockets. He motioned Tenma with his chin. “You wanted set B right, no carrots.”

“Uh? Well yeah, but I can-”

“S’okay, you two go find some seats” he shrugged, looking around. There weren’t many spaces to start with and he’d honestly prefer focus on the food rather than the stares. “It’d be difficult to keep ‘em free with just one person anyway.”

“Roger! Come on Ten-chan, let’s go!”

.

.

.

“Aw, man. Everyone has their eyes on you as usual!” Taichi looked around, still indulging himself with all the people that were staring at them, some more blatantly than others.

How he didn’t get bored of mentioning it every time Tenma didn’t know, though he was low-key grateful. Not many people enjoyed being part of those types of reactions from a crowd- Juza for example-. When they finally managed to find some empty seats, Taichi placed his own bento on the table visibly excited. Tenma frowned.

“Since when did you start preparing lunch by yourself?”

“Ah, this?” the redhead laughed proudly at his confused look “See, I’ve been practicing my cooking skills! Tsuzuru has been super cool teaching me how to prepare some dishes for my siblings- plus, I’m sure I’ll get the attention of girls if they see my new talent!”

“Right…”

Tenma couldn’t decide whether he should make a comment as he took a long, thoughtful sip from his own juice can. Taichi’s lunch was a side of string cheese, a broken omelet, and some semi-burnt rice and it just didn’t seem very tempting.

He ultimately chose to leave it aside. Omi would surely know soon enough.

“So, uh, Taichi.”

“Yeah?”

He coughed, leaving aside the can and resting his back on the chair nonchalantly. “N-not that I care about that rumor, but- where is that ghost supposed to be?”

“Ah, the one we talked about? Mmm…” the autumn member caressed his chin, closing his eyes in deep thought. “No one really knows. It’s been spotted in pretty much all parts of the school” Tenma’s stomach sank at that. “But I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!”

The redhead took again the chopsticks and started digging on the rice carefree.

“R-right.”

Tenma shook his head. Cool. Great. Now he knew which side of the school he would never even try to approach at least.

“Tenma-kun!” a female voice, not familiar, made him jolt from his seat. When he looked up a girl followed by two others were are already making themselves comfortable on the chairs next to them- one of them even deciding to sit on the table. “Hi there!”

Third years.

"Hi” he repeated.

“We saw your appearance in that new series, it was unbelievable!”

“Are you going to be a recurring character there? I’d love if you could ask one of the leads to sign a shirt of mine!”

He simply showered them a practiced smile. He could already tell what type of fans they were. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary- people approaching him about his shows or to ask for favors- and honestly, it was better not entering in that dangerous territory. “Thanks. Nothing’s been said yet, that’d depend on the company. I’ll be counting on your future support.”

They instantly beamed at his reaction. “Of course!”

One of them clapped her hand together “That reminds me, when is your next performance in that theatre company you play? I so want to go see it again!”

“Ah, that will take a while. We just finished a month ago so next up is the autumn troupe” he motioned Taichi with his head, a proud, real smile featuring his face this time “These guys have been going all out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“O-of course!” the shortest Ouka high student practically jumped into the conversation. “If you all want, we could ask for a few tickets from our-!“

“But Tenma-kun is not in that troupe, right?” the girls looked at each other confused. As if it wouldn’t be something it’d cross their minds to do, had the child actor not participated before.

“W-well, no but…”

“Plus, the summer troupe is hilarious! I kinda prefer those types of performances, you know?”

“I totally get you!”

From his peripheral vision, Tenma could register Taichi’s face growing red- a strained smile before sitting back on his seat, not trying to add anything to the conversation anymore.

Smile. Remember to smile.

“…We all give our all on those performances, I don’t think it’s fair if you have just watched the summer troupe. You’ll definitely enjoy it if you give them the chance.”

“Really?”

“I mean… If Tenma-kun says so maybe we could go take a look.” one of them gave a chuckle, playing with their hair. “You think we could ask you to get us some tickets for-?”

“If you are not eatin’ you should leave.”

“Uh? Can’t you see we’re-” the sentence died in their lips as soon as they turned and encountered Juza. Not that he himself was proud of his reputation, but during these situations at the very least it paid to see they knew who he was.

“Move.”

The resulting glare was terrifying in its intensity, and the retreat took no longer than a few seconds. No one mentioned anything afterward- Juza’s calm and blank expression coming back as he sat down, handing the summer leader his lunch and squinting down at Taichi’s.

“What the hell are you eatin’.”

“Hehe it caught your attention too, right? You see…”

Tenma observed them. They were acting as if nothing had happened. Not so long ago people tended to stay away from him for those same reasons, so it still took him a few seconds to find the words again- For feeling this relieved at their reactions.

He left the chopsticks aside. “Sorry this... keeps happening."

They momentarily stopped the conversation, sharing a silent look before turning to the teen actor facing the table in awkwardness.

“I-It’s okay, Ten-chan! They would obviously be more interested in watching you than an unknown performance” Taichi laughs and scratches the back of his hair. He seemed to be fine- a bit uncomfortable, but fine. “Besides, that just means we have to work even harder to be recognized, right, Juza-san!”

“Yeah, don’t get stuck thinkin’ ‘bout it. We ain’t losin’ any time soon.”

“Anyway Juza-san, are you sure you’re okay with only melon bread and pudding for lunch? I can give you some of mine!”

Juza didn’t verbally answer Taichi’s offer, merely staring at the burnt rice being held in front of him with skepticism “…nah. I’m okay.”

Taichi frowned at his own food, tilting his head confused. A few seconds later, he gave it an ultimate shrug before going for one more bite, Juza doing the same with his own lunch. Tenma scoffed at the view, trying not to smile amusedly. The autumn troupe really was made out of beasts.

“If Sakyo-san saw what you two are eating he’d skin you alive, you know.”

“Why.”

“What do you mean why, Juza-san you can’t expect-“

"Ah, that reminds me!” Taichi suddenly rambled, mouth full of rice “We should totally go to the arcade before we head up to the dorm. I heard they have these new games that are supposed to be super exclusive!”

Tenma winced “Can’t. I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher after classes.”

The other two replied with a similar expression.

“I almost forgot you came from a big shootin’ and all. We’ve been seein' you in the dorm pretty much everyday.”

“Yeah! Geez I always say I envy you, but dealing with that after working must suck!”

“You tell me…”

Taichi shook his head, giving him both thumbs up “It’s okay, we can go another time. Good luck though!”

.

.

.

“You can sit here. I’ll go bring your work in a second and then we’ll talk.”

With a lazy look on his face, Tenma caught a glimpse of his own reflection from a trophy case- one of the few resting at the entrance of the teacher’s lounge. He had never paid attention to them before; Second prize in a football tournament, first prize in some races and a few diplomas regarding different competitions, nothing too special. Ouka high had never had the best score regarding academics, which is exactly why he was able to enter.

Igawa liked to insist it wasn’t entirely Tenma’s fault he had so many troubles keeping up with schoolwork though- well, not more than the usual of not being good at studying. No one actually knew how hard celebrity kids had to push themselves- at least that’s what his parent had said. On the other hand, they hadn’t really cared much more, so long the school allowed him to be flexible with his schedules.

School time was usually done while moving sets and camera changes. He and other kids and teens were at different levels of schooling most of the time, so the teacher was forced to divide their time. Honestly, one would be lucky to get 30 minutes of full tutoring.

Anyway, it was rotten work and even Tenma knew it. He also knew what his homeroom teacher thought about it, which is exactly why he couldn’t help himself raising his eyebrows concerned as he saw the pile of papers being drop over the desk.

“Is this a joke?”

“I know you’re busy, but there’s a minimum to do keep up with your classes and… general results.” the old man frowned scratching his grey four-days old beard. He clicked here and there at the computer, probably revising the latest results of the tests they had done.

He then leaned back on his chair, trying to find a comfortable position before his wrinkly eyes turned to him again. “I wish I could think of another way, but you are getting quite behind everyone, Sumeragi-kun. We’re worried.”

Well, it was not his fault he couldn’t remember all the information they gave him like a script. Was it really the solution giving him the same amount of work as his classmates with half the time?

Before he could open his mouth to complain, the man placed his hand on Tenma’s shoulder. It felt heavy. “I already talked with your manager. It seems you’ll be having a break for a month and a half just before finals and I’d like to help you. We can’t have one of the biggest faces of the school repeating a year, can we?”

Tenma’s jaw clenched. Of course, everything was always for Sumeragi Tenma the actor. Student Tenma could go drown himself.

“Here you’ll find some reinforcement materials I think will be good for you to do in school. Less time wasted while moving and I’ll be here in case you have any questions.”

His face twitched. That would mean he wouldn’t be able to ask for Tsumugi’s help or any of the adults back in Mankai. “I actually-”

“Suguro-sensei, Someone’s calling for you about tomorrow’s meeting!”

“Is it that time already... I’ll be right there in a second! In any case, I would suggest you go work on the library Sumeragi-kun.” the man got up, finishing that way their conversation. “It should be quiet enough, but if you see any students being too loud, give them a call.”

Tenma side-glanced again at his workload, groaning internally.

Just about his luck.

.

.

.

Twenty minutes walking.

How could such a big school not have a single sign to indicate where things were?

Squinting his eyes, Tenma looked both ways across the hall annoyed, his already short temper from before increasing. He was sure the library was two turns to the right, then left, and then up the stairs from the teachers’ lounge.

...or maybe it was a floor down now that he thought about it. Damn it. It wasn’t as if he had ever stepped inside that place, shouldn’t they make it more accessible for everyone?

“This sucks…”

It had been a while since he had seen other students or even teachers around, which also made him feel uneasy. He glanced down at the paperwork in his arms, gripping it tighter. He hoped no one would see him walking around like this.

Just where was the stupid library?

It wasn’t until Tenma decided to try entering inside any room that would allow him to work, that he found many were strangely closed. He was about to gave up when he finally saw the dusty word ‘library’ at the end of the corridor. Finally. With effort he managed to open the heavy door, immediately pinching his nose.

“Ugh, stinks.”

The person in charge of cleaning the school really did a worse job than Matsukawa- at least the man cleaned from time to time and organized stuff. The place was an absolute mess; boxes over the floor, piles of books on chairs and shelves full of documents and other various things he didn’t quite distinguish.

Leaving everything on the closest table Tenma sighed when he felt his arms relaxing without the weight. Frowning, he walked around the place, smelling a mix of dirt and old- even some shelves were full of dust. Really, how did a school like this had such a gross place to study? No wonder students didn’t try to come here.

He should have asked for permission to take his work back to Mankai. Less danger of someone noticing he was behind his studies and it becoming a gossip- or worse, finding he had been walking without an absolute clue for the last half hour.

Yeah, he had more options to pass the year with Tsumugi’s help rather than on his own. Just looking at the amount of work he had he was sure it’d-

The faint sound of walking steps brought him back from his thoughts freezing him on the spot- all his breath trapped. He hadn’t heard anyone since he entered, but it shouldn't be surprising to find others studying.

I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!

Or it was probably the wind. The wind tends to make noises, Tenma reminded himself while swallowing with difficulty.

Was the air suddenly thick?

Crack!

He strained to hear, his heart pounding loudly. “I-Is anyone there?” the nerves made his voice come out higher than he had hoped.

More cracks and sounds of steps. He couldn't see anything yet.

His stomach turned as his breath became louder. This wasn't happening. Yup! It was his imagination. What was happening could not be real, because ghosts didn’t exist. “I-I’m not afraid, you know?!” he shouted, positioning himself on a fighting stance while carefully moving backward.

That’s right- Tenma wasn’t scared. He had just rested enough, with or without a ghost in the room, and it was about time to leave. Ignoring his sweaty palms and nodding once more to nothing in particular, he turned around at the same time a pair of eyes made contact with his.

The figure opened its mouth.

And Tenma proceeded to absolutely destroy his throat.

_________________________________________________

This took so long though I’m not even sure If they are around. If you are love, I apologize! I found a few walls writing-wise. So not entirely to say I made it longer to make up for it but on the other hand... maybe. Thank you so much for sending such a nice idea so I was able to make this, really hope you like it. 💕

I promise this is a reader insert lol thank you for reading!

Part 2 soon!

[pitubea1910]

“Kiss me again”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Featuring: Peter Parker 

Words: 2k

Warning: -

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: I could do a second part of this if you’re interested :) Feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

You just couldn’t stop thinking about it and how much you wanted it to happen again.

***

You were in the middle of a mission. Fury had decided that you and Steve were the best ones for the job. In his opinion, Steve was the one with the ‘kindest’ face so no one would suspect him. And you, being the latest addition to the team, wouldn’t stand out. It would just look like the Captain had decided to introduce you to some of the most important personalities of New York.

However, according to the mission, your presence at the governor’s re-election party was just a cover that would allow you to sneak around the mansion to retrieve some important files that had evidence of the government being ‘in bed’ with Hydra. Piece of cake, right?

So, there you were, in the Dior dress Tony had managed to get for you and wearing the most uncomfortable heels you had ever tried. You couldn’t understand why someone would waste thousands of dollars on this murderer weapons. Your feet were killing you and all you could think about was how nice your usual combat boots were.

“Smile”, Steve said in your ear when he approached you with a glass of champagne. “You look like you’re about the kill someone.”

“You would look like that as well if you were wearing these heels”, you said, but forced a smile on your face anyway. “Can’t we just get to the point?”

“We have just arrived”, he said looking around. “We have to make some conversation, blend in, so no one notices when we go upstairs.”

“I still don’t know why Natasha didn’t come”, you sighed. “She’s way better at these things than I am.”

“Think of it as training”, he said, waving at a man you thought you had seen on TV at some point. “Not everything is fighting, running and knocking people out.”

“That would be too beautiful to be true”, you sighed, making him laugh.

“No wonder you and Bucky get along so easily”, he commented. “He would rather die than coming to one of these events.”

“I can’t blame him”, you shrugged and sipped some of the champagne. At least it was delicious.

But you couldn’t drink too much. You had to stay sober long enough to carry your mission out. Once the job was done, you could get as wasted as you liked.

“Watch out”, Steve said, placing a hand on your back to call your attention. “The Governor is coming. He probably wants to meet you.”

“Why me?” You asked as you saw the man whose file you had memorised approach.

“You’re an Avenger, remember?” He said as a polite and friendly smile appeared on his face. It made you wonder how many parties of this kind he had attended to.

“Captain America”, the governor said with a huge smile on his face as he shook Steve’s hand vigorously. “Such a pleasure to have you here tonight, Rogers.”

“It is my pleasure, sir”, Steve nodded before turning to you. “May I introduce you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)? The newest addition to our team”, he said.

“I wonder where do you all come from”, Cuomo said as he shook your hand. He had a firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sir”, you said with a polite nod.

“It’s only you two today?” The governor asked.

“I’m afraid so”, Steve said. “The rest of the team had other business to attend to.”

“Avenging never ends, right?” Cuomo smiled. “Well, it was a pleasure to see you. I have to say hello to so many people. Enjoy your night and I’ll talk to you later. I would like to discuss some ideas I talked about with the Secretary.”

“Absolutely”, Steve smiled.

“Lovely to meet you, (Y/L/N)”, the governor said before walking away.

You let out a sigh and took another sip of the champagne.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, moving to stand in front of you.

“Not as bad as I thought”, you shrugged, following the governor with your eyes. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“Don’t worry about that”, Steve shrugged it off. “He just likes to brag about his relationship with Ross. His ideas are usually bullshit.”

“But you have to keep him happy”, you said.

“You’re learning”, Steve smiled. “Okay, listen to me. We’ll walk around for like half an hour and then we will meet at the staircase. If someone asks-“

“I’m going to the bathroom”, you said. “I know what I have to do, Rogers”, you said with a wink before walking away.

If you had turned around just once, you would have seen Steve’s smile as he saw you walking away from him.

For the next thirty minutes, you did as Natasha had told you the night before. Made small talk, smile, be a bit of a flirt but not enough to have someone fall for it, laugh without making it look like you’re sucking up. Just be the perfect guest. However, you were extremely relief when you saw Steve by the stairs, waiting for you.

You excused yourself, saying you were going to the bathroom, and walked towards him. He was looking down at his phone, probably checking the time you two had. Just when you were a couple of feet away, he looked up and smiled as he saw you.

“Just in time”, he said.

“I’m British, remember?” You said with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

With a nod, he let you walk in front of him and placed a hand at the bottom of your back while you two walked upstairs. Casually, you looked around to make sure no one was looking at you two, and everyone seemed to focus on their own conversations to pay attention to the two people going upstairs.

“According to the blueprints”, Steve said as you reached the first floor and turned to the right, ignoring the ‘Off Limits’ sign that security had placed there. “Cuomo’s office is down this corridor and to the left. You go first and check the security while I connect the coms so Peter can hack the security.”

“I can’t believe we’re trusting a 16 years old boy with the hacking of the security”, you said like you had done a million times before.

“Tony couldn’t believe they were trusting you to come to this mission”, Steve shrugged.

“What?” You frowned and looked at him. You didn’t know about that. “Tony didn’t trust me?”

“He just said that you weren’t ready yet for an undercover mission. That’s all”, Steve quickly explained. “If you want, you can have a word with him later when we’re finished.”

You sighed and nodded. Steve was right. You couldn’t let anything get to you at that moment. You had to be focused. Although you had to admit it was a bit painful to know that Tony –the one who had recommended you for the team and had tracked you down to London- didn’t think you were ready.

Without further word, you made your way down the corridor, paying attention to any noise around you. But all the noise you could hear was the one from the party downstairs. It looked like no one was around. When you got to the corner, you stopped and peaked around it. You could spot the door of the office at the end of it. Everything was quiet. No one was around.

“Clear?” You heard Steve’s voice in your ear, making you jump a little bit when the coms were suddenly connected.

“Clear”, you said.

“On my way. Parker, how you doing?” Steve asked.

“Almost done, Captain”, the kid said. “I just have to get through the last firewall and you’ll be set.”

“How much time do you need?” You asked.

“A minute”, he said.

“Make it faster”, Steve said at the same time he reached where you were.

“Yes ma’am”, Peter said.

“And don’t call me ma’am”, you rolled your eyes, making Steve smile.

Just then, you heard a door opening in the same corridor where the office was. You opened your eyes widely and looked carefully. It was the governor’s own personal bodyguard.

“What the fuck is he doing up here? Why isn’t he with the governor?” Steve asked.

“The question is what we’re going to say when he sees us. The bathroom is at the other end of the corridor”, you said. “Damn it.”

You could hear the footsteps getting closer as you looked around. There was no hiding place. You could use the getting lost excuse, but it was quite useless when you were in a mansion full of signs telling you where you could go and what was off limits.

You looked at Steve, who looked as he was getting ready to fight. That was a mistake. Everyone knew who you were and there was no way you could just walk out freely if you beat the head of the governor’s security. There had to be something else you could do. And suddenly, you knew what that was.

“Kiss me”, you said grabbing Steve’s hand.

“What?” He said surprised.

“Just kiss me, for fuck’s sake.”

Before he had time to protest, you pull him by his neck and kissed him. At first, he didn’t kiss you back, but then he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back and taking control of the situation. One of his hands moved up to your hair as he pulled you closer.

“What is this?”

You two pulled away, your face completely blushed, and looked at the bodyguard. When he saw who you two were, a grin appeared on his face.

“Sorry, Captain”, he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

With a nod, he kept on walking away, like he had seen nothing. You felt Steve’s eyes on you, although you couldn’t manage to look up. You bite your lip and took a deep breath.

“That was intense”, you heard Peter say in the coms.

***

Having a crush on Steve Rogers was something that happened to everyone. He was kind, loyal, funny, caring and, of course, way too handsome for this world, but you had never thought it could be more than a crush. Until now.

It had been a week since that happened. The mission was successful. You had managed to retrieve the data that you needed and go back to the party to blend in. However, you weren’t able to focus for the rest of the night, and neither for the rest of the week.

Every time you crossed paths with Steve, you blushed like you were a teenager. When you were in the same room, you avoided eye contact. You hadn’t talked about it, he hadn’t brought it up and the only person who knew about it –Peter- had said nothing, which was surprising.

Yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about. All you could do was remember the feeling of his lips against yours. How soft and warm they were, the way he held you against him, his body against yours. It was driving you crazy. Even sleeping was becoming harder.

There you were, lying awake at 3 in the morning, picturing those blue eyes over and over again, that smile and those lips. Maybe if you kissed him again, it would go away. Maybe that was all you needed and you could go back to normal. Maybe it was just a brief infatuation that would go away with another brief kiss.

Yes, that was probably the solution.

You kicked the sheets off and got out of bed. Without even bothering on putting on some shorts and wearing only the long t-shirt you used to sleep, you walked out of your room and went to Steve’s as silent as possible. You didn’t want to wake anyone up and get asked questions you didn’t know how to answer.

Luckily, Steve’s room wasn’t far from yours and soon you were softly knocking on his door. Even if he didn’t hear it, you knew F.R.I.D.A.Y would wake him up if you asked her to. That wasn’t necessary. A wide awake Steve opened the door and looked at you surprised.

“(Y/N)?” He asked. Without saying anything, you walked in. “Everything okay?” He asked when he closed the door. “It’s 3 in the morning”, he said.

“Yeah, I know”, you said fidgeting with the necklace you always wore. “I can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked frowning and walking over to you, obviously worried.

“Kiss me again”, you said straight away.

Steve stopped walking and stood there in the middle of the room, looking at you like you had just taken off your clothes. To be honest, it felt like that.

“Excuse me?”

“I…” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About… our kiss. Every minute of every day. Every time I look at you, I feel your lips and your body and when I close them, you’re there too. I don’t know…” you sighed. “I need you to kiss me again, Steve. I think it’s the only way I can get over this.”

“Over what exactly?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Over whatever feelings I have for you.”

Now that you were saying out loud, you realised how stupid it sounded. How kissing him was supposed to be helpful? It would probably have the opposite effect. And yet, there you were, asking him to kiss you. There was no going back now, so you might as well keep on going with your dumb idea.

“You have feelings for me?” Steve asked, a hint of smile appearing on his face.

“Can you please stop repeating what I say?” You said frustrated. Steve chuckled a little bit and walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek.

“I can kiss you. I actually have been thinking about that too the last days”, he admitted, taking you by surprise. “But I really don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Why not?” You frowned, allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes.

“Just a hunch”, he shrugged. “So?”

You looked from his eyes to his mouth and then back up again. Now you needed his kiss. You wouldn’t be able to go away without it after being this close to him, after feeling his breath on your face.

“Kiss me”, you said for the third time.

“As you wish”, he said in whisper before leaning down to kiss you.

It was even better than you remembered. And as soon as his lips touched yours, you knew he was right. It wasn’t going to work, it had been a stupid idea. You needed more. This kiss wasn’t going to be enough, you were going to want more. More kisses, more touches, more of him. And you didn’t know what to do about it.

[mosswillow]

Learning To Love - Steve Rogers x Reader (featuring Texas vibes)

Summary: Life always does this thing where it puts you in situations you swore you were done experiencing. You’re done having relationships, but they may not be done with you.

Warnings: Smut, feelings, angst, interrupted assault  (In relation to this, attacker going unpunished, intimidation, stalker vibes.), mature themes, 18+ adult content, slow burn?

A/N: This is a gift for @joannie95 for the Hoelentine’s Day challenge! I hope you like it. This isn’t a dark fic but it is a little heavy, there’s a healthy dollop of anxiety and feelings throughout with a happy ending.

Thanks to  @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares and @drabblewithfrannybarnes  for putting this whole thing together, it’s such a fun challenge!

By clicking keep reading you confirm you’re over 18. This is mature content, be careful.

Unlovable.

When asked to describe yourself it’s the first word you think of. Your very first boyfriend spent months emotionally abusing you and by the end of the relationship it’s what you truly believed about yourself. Every relationship after has been the same. Your insecurities and inability to trust causing tension that eventually sabotages any chance at making things work; and with each failed relationship your view of yourself becomes more and more loathsome. Self hatred and depreciation surround you in a cloak of misery, convincing you that they’re your friends.  It’s all your fault, you deserve all of it, You’re unlovable.

So you don’t do relationships anymore. You want nothing more than to love and be loved, to hold hands and kiss under the moonlight. You want a partner to share your life with, an emotional connection that transcends yourself, creating a whole new person.

If only you were good enough, worthy enough for love.

But you’re not.

---

“No eating in here Dr. Rogers,” you chide.

Steve looks up at you and gives a smirk.

“How about a little bribe.” He holds up a bag of beaver nuggets. You roll your eyes and look around before sticking your hand in and grabbing a few puffs.

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect all the time,” He teases.

“Don’t you have an office or something?”

“I like it better here, I get to be scolded by a beautiful librarian and don’t have to deal with the other professors.”  

You’ve known Steve for years. He started teaching at the same time you joined the library staff at Rice. He’s genuine and kind. You’ve watched him help countless students outside of office hours. Everyone likes him, including you. You really like him a lot. That’s why you can’t let yourself entertain the possibility of being with him. You can’t lose him. You can’t bear the inevitable conclusion of him looking you in the eyes and telling you he’s done, that you’re too much for him.

“Well you’ll have to pack it up, they’re sending everyone home because of the hurricane.”

“It’s barely even a hurricane, more like a tropical storm,” Steve scoffs.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You close the library down before heading to your car. The wind has already started and the sky darkens by the second. You smell the slight scent of sea air and know it’s close. The humidity, which you forgot could even get this bad, causes you to start sweating profusely and you want to get home and take a shower before the storm starts. You have a pint of blue bell waiting for you at home along with a stack of unread books, a quiet night sounds perfect.

“Hey.”

You whip around and see a familiar face, a grad student who visits the library often. Alex, you remember.

“Sorry, I just closed the library down. You'll have to wait until the school opens.”

He takes a small step forward, close enough that your personal space is violated, while at the same time far enough to where the invasion feels almost accidental.

“I’ve watched you around campus, noticed your schedule.” It’s not an accident.

It’s not unusual for students to flirt with you but this is less flirting and more just creepy.

“Oh, um yeah I work a lot.” you take a step back and he follows.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” He states.

You stare at him and take another step back, hitting your back on your car. You grab onto the handle and he reaches out and grabs your hand.

“Hey don’t be like that. I’m a good guy. I won’t hurt you.”

You pry your hand away..

“One date, say yes.” He says, slowly pushing his body towards you.

“No, I have to go.”  

You press yourself against your car as his body goes rigid.

“You’re such a fucking tease, parading around me for weeks.”

He takes a tiny step back but places his hands against your car, caging you in. You close your eyes and freeze in fear. Your mind screams at you to move but your body just won’t.

He’s suddenly pulled away from you and when you open your eyes the only thing visible is Steve’s back.

“She said no, why don’t you move along and maybe spend some time considering why you feel entitled to women who clearly aren’t interested.”

Alex and Steve stare at each other for a few slow moments before Alex scowls at you and walks away.

“Are you ok?” Steve turns to you.

“I’m fine.” you lie, crossing your arms to avoid shaking.

Steve raises his eyebrows and looks you up and down. You’re not entirely sure how it happens but somehow you end up sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's truck, looking at your apartment building. Rain has started coming down in earnest and you dread running through it.

“Are you going to be ok alone?” Steve asks

“Are you?” You reply.

You look at eachother and your mind clears. His blue eyes stare at you with concern. Steve's hands are still on the steering wheel, clutching on like it might disappear if he lets go. You don’t want to be alone and you can tell that he doesn’t either. You want to feel safe and right now Steve is the only one who makes you feel that way. It would be so easy to invite him in, you know he would say yes.

“You don’t have a car. do you have food? Bottled water? A portable charger?” Steve asks.

“You’re the one that said it’s barely a hurricane.”

Steve sighs and releases his hands from the steering wheel.

“Just call me if you need me.”

You nod and climb out of the truck. The transition from the hot rain to your air conditioned apartment causes you to start shivering and even after you change and cover yourself in a warm blanket you still shake uncontrollably.

---

The storm lasts three days, worse than you were expecting but nothing like Harvey.

Steve shows up at your apartment bright and early a bag of conchas and breakfast tacos in hand. You climb in his truck and buckle your seatbelt. Steve eyes your book bag before backing up.

“You’re not going to work are you?”

“It’s been three days.” you reply.

He looks at you like you’re crazy and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It wasn’t that bad, you got there before anything actually happened,” you say.

He opens his mouth and breathes in before biting his lip and driving you to work without another word.

Steve walks you to your car every day after work. You don’t ask him to, he just does. It’s an unsaid expectation you both have. The first week is awkward, You both say almost nothing to each other. The second week though Steve finally breaks the silence.

“How have you been?”

You shrug.  

“I filed a complaint. He’s barred from the library and promised not to come near me.” you say.

Steve purses his lips.

“Do you feel safe though?”

“No...”

Steve stiffens and you reach out and grasp his shoulder.

“Thank you for walking me to my car.”

“Of course,” Steve closes the door for you and you drive away.

Steve cracked something on your exterior. You had been pushing off the feelings before Steve asked you how you were and now you can’t push them down any longer. You get in the shower and let the warm water wash over you. At first you feel raw and then angry and then for the first time since it happened you cry. It feels silly, to let something so seemingly small affect you so much. It could have been so much worse, it’s not like anything actually happened. Maybe that’s what scares you, not what happened but the implication of what could have. He invaded your space and intimidated you, making you feel small and helpless. If it wasn’t for Steve…

You let yourself fall apart until the water turns cold, then you pick yourself up and wrap yourself in a soft towel.

You look at the woman in your bathroom mirror and see someone who isn’t you. She’s broken and hurting, her eyes swollen from crying. She looks like she’s about to fall over from exhaustion. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She has every right to feel upset and frightened about it. She didn’t deserve to have her safety threatened, nobody deserves that.

You didn’t deserve it.

You go to work the next day and the day after that. Days turn into weeks turn into months and the fear slowly leaches out of you as you reach out for help. The woman in your bathroom mirror deserves therapy and so do you.

Steve is always there. He walks you to your car every day. He starts texting you and you text him back. You go out to dinner with him, an ethiopian place this weekend and a mediteranian food truck the next. You form inside jokes and slowly you find yourself telling Steve little things about yourself.

“Why are you single?” You ask him one day.

“I had a girlfriend, she’s not with us anymore. After she… I guess I just… I wasn’t in a place for a long time to date anyone, I cringe now at some of the things I did while dating after she passed.”

He leans back and gives you a little smile.

“I’ll know when it’s the right time to jump back in - when it’s the right person.”

You open up about your past and he listens. He tells you about growing up as the smallest kid in his class, how he was bullied and how suddenly people started treating him differently when he hit a late growth spurt. You feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt with anyone.

---

Steve walks you to your car. Tomorrow is your off day and you stop to thank him and remind him you aren’t working the next few days. He’s looking at you and shifts on his feet, you furrow your brows in concern.

“It’s Valentine's day tomorrow.” He blurts out.

You take a step towards your car, knowing where this is going and not wanting it to go any further.

Steve is the one who holds you together, his friendship helping you in so many ways. He holds power over you though, power to throw you aside and break you apart. You can’t be cast away, not again.

“If you don’t have plans maybe I can make you something for dinner at my place?”

You turn away and grab your door handle.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Oh of course, yeah that’s fine.”

You watch Steve bring his hand up to his forehead in the rearview mirror as you drive away.

That evening you write the text, it’s cowardly but you don’t think you can face him.

I don’t need you to walk me to my car anymore. Thank you for your help but I think our relationship should be professional from here on out.

What? No, we’re friends. Are you ok?

You turn your phone off and take a sleeping pill only to be woken in the middle of the night by pounding on your door.

Steve stands in your doorway. His eyes are red and his hair is messy. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

Steve stares at you and you look away.

“What is this about?”

“What is what about?”

“We’re friends. I’m not going to stop being your friend just because you don’t want a relationship. I know this isn’t one sided, that you feel the same way about me. Why are you trying to push me away?”

You cross your arms and look down and he leans over, putting himself in your line of sight.

“If I let you in I’ll get hurt,” you confess.

“Why do you think that?”

‘I..” You stutter

It’s not one moment. Not any one breakup you’ve been through. It’s not even what happened months ago during the hurricane. It’s everything. It’s self hatred, overthinking and analyzing. It’s all the anxiety and stress of life that compounds into fear. Fear of failing and of loss, of getting hurt and breaking. You feel like the only way to keep yourself up and moving is by pushing him away.

“You’re so scared of being hurt but Y/N, you’re hurting. You’re doing to yourself the very thing you’re so scared of.”

Tears start forming, Steve brings his hand up and wipes one away before pulling you into a hug and letting you cry into his chest.

He shifts his face close to your ear and speaks softly.

“I have fear too, but you know what I’m the most scared of? I’m scared of not being your friend anymore. We don’t have to be in a relationship but please don’t cut me out.”

His voice hitches and his grip tightens.

“I love you, I care about you and always will.”

You pull back and look at him, a tear escapes one of his eyes and he promptly wipes it away.

“I’m scared,” you say.

“I am too.”

Your heart beats rapidly as you look up into Steve's bloodshot eyes and see the pain that you’re feeling mirrored back at you. Steve holds power over you but for the first time you realize that you hold that same power over him. You never thought you would be willing to put yourself in a vulnerable position again but somehow, here you are. You put your hand over your heart and feel the life pump out if it and through your veins.

reaching up tentatively, you bring your hand to his face grabbing his cheek gently. You stand up tall and slide your hand behind his neck, bringing him in and kissing him. Tension releases from both of you as you press your lips together, embracing in a warm hug. You pull away and he brings you in for another kiss, this time pushing you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

It’s a flurry of body parts and heat. You’re ripping off each other's clothing. Steve kisses your neck and you bring your hand to his chest and feel down his abdomen. He groans when you get to his dick and the next thing you know you’re on the bed arching your back as he slams into you. You open your mouth to moan but nothing comes out, Instead your eyes roll to the back of your head as an orgasm washes through you and carries you away.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” He says.

He stills on top of you and then looks down making eye contact before rolling beside you and pulling you into a hug.

“That was...” Steve starts

“Amazing.” you finish.

You pry yourself from Steve and walk to the bathroom to clean up, stopping at the mirror to look at your post sex appearance.

Maybe there’s no way around it. Maybe life will stick you in situations and force you forward against your will. You weren’t trying to let Steve into your life but somehow here he is.

For the first time you don’t don’t feel like this unlovable person. You’re not scared he’s going to leave you or that you’re going to ruin the relationship.

You have a feeling you’ve never truly experienced before and now it all makes sense. Somehow in the last few months you’ve learned to love. You look at yourself in the mirror and see someone worthy.

You’ve spent all your time and energy pushing people away when you should have been building yourself up. You thought that taking care of yourself meant hiding away and putting up a wall.

Self care isn’t a bubble bath or a glass of wine and It’s not something that happens out of fear or anxiety. It’s affording yourself the same kindness and forgiveness that you would give anyone else. It’s looking at yourself in the mirror and recognizing that you deserve to love and to be loved. It’s giving yourself permission to feel however you feel without guilt or shame. It’s love in its purest form and you deserve it.

You are not unlovable.

Steve walks up beside you and kisses your temple.

“When you said you loved me...” you start.

“I meant it.”  He says quickly.

You turn and look at him, biting your lip before saying something you’ve been so scared of for so long. You kiss his cheek and smile.

“I love you.”