#follow for more roger collins dating tips

[widowshill]

I can’t stop watching this gif and especially his left hand like. the moment of absolute Lou/Roger panic that he reached too high and accidentally touched her chest and is frantically searching for her arm to cling to for that half second like this is just so

[emerald-chaos]

Welcome to the Sweethearts Diner

We pride ourselves on offering a unique dining experience full of personal choice and surprise twists! No two menu items will ever be the same, as we allow the patron to completely customize their own orders. So grab a date, sit on down, and enjoy the Sweethearts experience.

Friends! I am so freaking excited about hosting my first writing challenge. I want to give a HUGE shout out to @animehearteyes @wastingmylifeonbritishtv @spicynudlesoup and other friends who helped give me ideas and helped bring this particular idea to life. I couldn't have done this without their help and support.

Secondly, I wouldn't even be having this writing challenge right now if it weren't for you. Thank you for being a follower of mine, supporting me, and putting up with my bs all the time. I am so grateful for every single one of you it's not funny. I hope you enjoy this challenge and participate if you'd like!

This is my first writing challenge so if there's anything I can do to make it better or any tips that someone may have for me - please share!!!

I probably have way too many prompts, but i couldn't help myself hehehe.

Rules:

Just a few things to discuss as far as expectations go.

Please choose a prompt from below and a character to go with it and let me know via my ask box which you choose! Only one person per prompt. (if you want a different character, send me an ask! let's chat about it.)

Tropes, AUs, etc. are all optional and are not limited to what I have listed below. I give you all full creative liberties to add whatever you feel like speaks to you the most.

Works written for this challenge must be able to be read as standalone fics.

Any reader insert is welcomed for this challenge (LGBTQ+, BIPOC, interracial, polyamorous relationships and more are welcomed and encouraged!). If you would like to use an OC, again, send me an ask and let's chat about it!

500 word minimum but no maximum! Please add a "read more" line after 100-200 words.

If you are writing smut you MUST be 18 years of age or older. Please have your age in your bio so I can verify this.

Deadline for fics to be completed by: December 1st (this is not a hard deadline and if you feel like you need more time, i'm happy to extend things for you.)

Hard no's for the fics: toilet stuff, bestiality, sexual situations including minors.

Dark fics are welcomed but most be tagged appropriately.

Just because a prompt is listed under a fluffy, smutty, or angsty category does not mean it is excluded to only that category. Things can be intertwined, added, and whatever at the writer's discretion!

Please include warnings where necessary.

Please tag me so I can follow the stories and read them! Use the tags included at the bottom of this post.

Who are you bringing along as your date?

Any Sebastian Stan character, including but not limited to: Bucky Barnes, Mickey Henry, Frank (endings, beginnings), Chris (destroyer), etc.

Any Chris Evans character, including but not limited to: Steve Rogers, Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, Ari Levinson, Collin Shea, etc.

Any Marvel character, including but not limited to: Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, etc.

Choose your main course:

Sweet

“What would you wanna marry me for anyhow?” “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” Sweet Home Alabama @dreamlessinparis

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." When Harry Met Sally

“I've come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours." Sense and Sensibility @dolcezzasfantasy

"You're late." "You're stunning." "You're forgiven." Pretty Woman @bucksdolll

"I like you very much. Just as you are." Bridget Jones's Diary

"You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." Pride and Prejudice @wastingmylifeonbritishtv

"What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon.” It’s a Wonderful Life @velvetcardiganbucky

"It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together, and I knew it. I knew it the first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known. I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew it. It was like magic." Sleepless in Seattle @thefallenbibliophilequote

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, and I want you to be the last.” Sweet Home Alabama @vanillanaps

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.” Moulin Rouge @lokithealligator

"You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you cannot live without." PS I Love You @doll1917

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you haven’t even talked to?” While You Were Sleeping @hey-its-grey

“I love you.” “Thanks.” Breakfast At Tiffany’s

“I just need to know that it’s possible that two people can stay happy together forever.” Juno @abovethesmokestacks

“As you wish.” The Princess Bride

“Yes, i’m drunk. And you’re beautiful. And tomorrow morning, i’ll be sober but you’ll still be beautiful.” The Dreamers @shieldedreams

Spicy

“Nice boys don’t kiss like that.” “Oh yes they fucking do.” Bridget Jones’s Diary @bucksmotel

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” Gone with the Wind @lavendercitizen

“Be still my beating vagina.” Mamma Mia 2 @starbuckie

“Are you trying to seduce me?” “Why? Are you seducible?” A Walk To Remember @slutfornat

“I gotta get outta here pronto. I got a stage five clinger. A stage five, virgin clinger.” Wedding Crashers @sableseb

“You’re really wearing that dress like you’re doing it a favor.” Crazy, Stupid Love @sunshinebuckybarnes

“I’ll have what she’s having.” When Harry Met Sally

“You know what? It’s time to go home.” “Really? That’s forward of you. But okay, I’ll do it.” Crazy, Stupid Love @soldatsass

“You must forgive my lips...they find pleasure in the most unusual places.” A Good Year @buckycuddlebuddy

“What do you say we blow this joint and then each other?” Love & Other Drugs @aphrogeneias

“You should be kissed every day, every hour, every minute.” The Lucky One @luxeavenger

“Lift your skirt. Lift it higher. Higher. Higher. Lift it higher.” The Piano @sobluesobeautiful

“How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?” The Sure Thing @specialk-18

“I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.” Bull Durham @the-iceni-bitch

“I don’t bite, you know...unless it’s called for.” Charade @yelenabeloveme

Bitter

"I'd rather fight with you than make love with anyone else." The Wedding Date

I love you. I've loved you for nine years. I've just been too arrogant and scared to realize it, and, well, now, I'm just scared." My Best Friend's Wedding

"I wanna marry you because you're the first person I wanna look at when I wake up in the morning, and the only one I wanna kiss goodnight. Because the first time that I saw these hands, I couldn't imagine not being able to hold them." Definitely, Maybe @turbolisedcomet

"I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." You've Got Mail @bucky-soldat

I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to catch up." Silver Linings Playbook @clints-lucky-arrow

“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you.” Juno

"I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly, and then all at once." The Fault in Our Stars @divine-mistake

"Don't forget: I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her." Notting Hill @coffeebucko // @bbonkyy (writing blog)

"So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard, and we're gonna have to work at this every day. But I wanna do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever. You and me. Every day." The Notebook @bibbidibobbidibucky

“We'll always have Paris." Casablanca

"I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you." Pocahontas @carrotfantasimp

“You said you couldn't be with someone who didn't believe in you. Well, I believed in you. I just didn't believe in me." Pretty in Pink @redbullchick

“I knew I’d never be able to remember what she wore that day. But I also knew I’d never forget the way she looked.” Father of The Bride

“I can’t see anything I don’t like about you.” Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

“You were the only thing in my life that was real.” Blue is the Warmest Color @ambrosiase

“What am I allergic to?” “Pine nuts. And the full spectrum of human emotion.” The Proposal @wintersfrost

“Trust me when I say if a guy is treating you like he doesn’t give a shit, he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.” He’s Just Not That Into You

“Some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but are not meant to be together.” 500 Days of Summer @christowhore

“I think you are the most selfish person on the planet.” “That’s just silly. Have you met everyone on the planet?” 2 Weeks Notice

“Three days ago I loathed you. I used to dream about you getting hit by a car. Or poisoned.” The Proposal

“Secondly, don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want.” 10 Things I Hate About You @notwithoutyou-buckybarnes

“I feel like I’ve just found out my favorite love song was written about a sandwich.” 27 Dresses

“Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?” 10 Things I Hate About You

“Neat freak. Healthy. Non-smoker. Single. I hate my horrible life.” The Holiday

“I miss you. If there’s anything you ever need, I won’t be far away.” Forrest Gump @rivkele

“I will not be the person you settle for because you cannot have her. I won’t do it. Not when I’ve spent my whole life loving you.” Little Women

Choose a side (trope optional; including but not limited to):

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

One Bed

Love triangle

Fake relationship

Crossover

Body swap

Arranged marriage

Accidental marriage

Amnesia

Pining/longing/yearning

Exes back to lovers

Looking to sweeten the deal? Try one of our desserts! (AU optional; including but not limited to):

College

Coffee shop

Time travel/decades (does this go here or somewhere else?)

Soulmates

Mafia/Mob

Biker

Pirate

Modern

Single Dad

Sugar Daddy

Dad's Best Friend/Best Friend's Dad

Viking

Librarian

Florist

CEO

Bartender

Bodyguard

Chef

Horror

Sweethearts Diner Jukebox Time Machine Challenge

To make your menu item combinations more challenging, pop a quarter in our magic jukebox! Some say the jukebox helps the generation of the music come alive (stories may be written in the style of a different era for an added challenge! Who wouldn't love a renaissance bucky? 👀)

Decade eras (40’s, 70’s, 80’s, etc.)

Renaissance era

Medieval era

[avengerscompound]

Mixology - Captain

Mixology - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  3210

Series Warnings:  Angst, Character death, Breaking up and making up, past trauma, pregnancy, talk of abortion, smut (vaginal sex, fingering, other things)

Synopsis:   Steve Rogers comes into your bar and after a night of flirting you take him home.  When he leaves the next day you never expect to see him again.

A/N:  This fic was written pre-Infinity War.  So while it follows canon for a while, it then veers off wildly at the end.

Captain

It was amazing how fast you and Steve had gone from the first date to basically living together.  It just felt right being in his bed.  You started coming to Avengers Tower directly after work.  You’d look at the security camera above the door and they’d open for you.  The elevator would take you to the correct floor without even needing to select a number and you’d creep into Steve’s room.

He’d be asleep.  It was always a restless sleep.  At best he was only barely asleep and you’d wake him opening the door.  At worst he’d be thrashing crying out to his friends for help.  Whatever the case you’d strip off your clothes and stroke your hand over his brow, telling him you were here and he was safe and you loved him.  He’d pull you into his arms and still.

You always woke in the late morning to an empty bed.  You’d go take a shower and change into the work clothes that would have been laundered from the previous night.  When you went out to the communal living area Steve would be waiting for you with a kiss and breakfast.  Sometimes there would be some of the other Avengers.  They had accepted you being around freely and readily, and while you didn’t consider them friends exactly, they certainly seemed to be on their way to being that.  You’d head home, do the things you needed to do there and then back to work to repeat the process again.

On occasion, Steve would wake you in the morning and you’d make love.  It was always sweet and slow and lazy.  You’d fall back to sleep while he showered and the day would proceed as usual.

On days where you could both get off together, you were basically in each other's pockets.  You would spend the day out sightseeing and holding hands.  You’d eat at food stands and grubby pizza places.  Or you’d go to SoHo and check out the Italian bakeries. Sometimes you’d stay at the tower all day and just fuck.  Only leaving the room to eat and rehydrate.  

The only time things really varied from this routine was if he was out on a mission.  That was regularly but not every week.  In those instances, you’d stay home.  It became weird and foreign being in your own bed.  How quickly things had changed for you.  You went from always sleeping in your own bed to never sleeping in it.  On a few occasions when you were at home, he’d get back in the middle of the night and text you.  You’d let him into your apartment and he’d be battered and filthy and he’d need you so badly that it hurt you a little.  

You fell for him fast.  That was the scariest thing at all.  You’d never felt close to anyone in your life and now your love for Steve Rogers was almost consuming you.  You could see a life together.  One where you stopped running and you trusted a person not to hurt you.  Where you loved someone and they loved you back.  Those things had always seemed like gifts that were only granted to other people.  Yet with Steve, you could see that you might also be worthy of them.  That kind of life is something you could also have.

Along with trying to find his friend Bucky, Steve had been helping Thor track down some kind of staff.  You didn’t really know much about it, except that he’d be gone for a day or two, come back battered and empty handed and then continue looking again.  It was months and months before Steve told you they’d finally found the thing.  So long in fact that Steve had started bringing up you and he finding a place of your own together.  You weren’t ready but you loved when he brought it up.  You loved that he was thinking these long term thoughts that included you.

You didn’t understand all the details but something about finding the staff meant Thor was leaving.  So Tony was throwing a party.  Steve wanted you to come, but you had work.  Saturday nights were important for you.  It was busiest.  You got more tips.  Tony came into your workplace and negotiated with your boss to hire you to work for him that night.

So here you are behind the bar at Avengers Tower making cocktails for a bunch of superheroes and their friends.  

Your first order of the night is by Tony.  He asks for a Bloody Mary.  He still didn’t believe you could make a decent one from scratch.  So you do.  Carefully balancing the levels of juice and vodka, with the bullion, Tabasco, Worcestershire sauce and other spices.  You serve it in a tall salt-rimmed glass over ice with a stalk of celery.  He looks smug as he takes a sip and then walks off in a huff.  

Steve comes over and you lean over the bar and give him a quick peck.  He asks for Sex on the Beach.  You tell him he should take you to the beach and serve him a beer.  

Natasha asks for something cute.  You make her a grasshopper and serve it in a martini glass with two green straws balanced on the side acting as legs.  She looks delighted as she takes it over to a group of other women to show them.  

Most of the other men stick to beer or whiskey on the rocks.  Clint orders a long island ice tea.  When he takes a sip he remembers that he actually wanted a Tom Collins.  You glare at him and he takes his drink and wanders away muttering to himself.

Tony returns and orders a Ramos Gin fizz.  He’s obviously just googled difficult cocktail recipes. Luckily you do know this one.  You search the bars reserves, sure he won’t have all the ingredients.  He does. So this must have been planned in advance.  You separate an egg and pour in the myriad of other bizarre ingredients into a shaker and shake for a good thirty seconds while Tony scowls at you.  You pour it through a strainer into a tall glass.  It has the perfect fluffy head.  Tony takes it, thanking you.  When he turns away you clearly hear him curse.  You laugh to yourself.  

Steve returns and asks for a blow job.  You tell him that he can have one of those later and pour him another beer.  He takes it telling you he loves you and returns to playing pool with Sam.  

Maria Hill requests something pretty.  You pour her a tequila sunrise.  She nods to you as she takes it.  

Tony comes over and asks for a fat washed mezcal. You ask him if he has pork drippings.  He does not.  He changes his order to a Commonwealth.  You ask him if he has dragonfruit.  He doesn’t have that either.  You make him a Flaming Lamborghini.  He looks pleased with it as he takes it away still burning.  

Steve returns.  He asks for an orgasm.  You tell him he is definitely going to have one of those later.  This time you just give him a glass of water.  He sits at the bar and talks to you for a while drinking it.  Natasha comes behind the bar to play bartender while she flirts with Bruce.  

The night moves on and people start to leave.  You’re able to leave the bar and you end up curled up on a couch with Steve while he and the Avengers talk and tease each other and generally seem like what you think a family would be like.

Then your word returns to shit.

Looking back you’re not quite even sure what happened.  There was a robot and then there were lots of robots.  The Avengers fought.  But you aren’t an Avenger.  You make cocktails.  One of the robots threw you against a wall.  You were knocked unconscious and woke up in the hospital.  A broken wrist, two cracked ribs and bruising on your spine is the diagnosis.  You’re more worried about the medical bills.  You’ve recovered from worse physical injuries than that, and now you have Steve to support you.  Pain doesn’t seem scary at all.

Turns out the medical bills were covered by Tony Stark.  You’re released from the hospital a day later but Steve is in Africa dealing with the robots.  You go back to your apartment and try your best to get by without bugging your roommate Lizzie too much.  

The doctors tell you, you have to stay off your feet for the next couple of months while your back and ribs heal.  This will hurt you financially, but you’ll struggle by.  When you call your boss to tell him, he says he can’t be without you for that long and he’ll need to let you go.  That will definitely hurt financially.  You still have Steve though.  He’d asked you to move in with him, he probably won’t mind you staying with him while you get back on your feet and find a new job.

Things don’t seem to be going well for the Avengers.  The disappear for a day.  Then they have to fight those robots from a floating city.  You watch the news coverage with your heart in your throat.  They save the day once again.  Your relief feels almost orgasmic.  Like you’re floating.

You call Steve and he doesn’t answer.  You don’t panic.  He’s got shit to sort out.  You text him that you love him and you can’t wait to see him.

The following day you still haven’t heard from him.  You call again and it goes straight to voicemail.  Today your back is hurting and you wish more than anything he could be there to care for you.  You’ve never had that before.  Instead, you deal with it like you always do.  Taking slightly more painkillers than recommended and sleeping.

A week later and Steve hasn’t replied to you at all. You’re in full-blown panic mode. You gave up texting after day three.  Your back doesn’t hurt so much by day five, only if you stand for too long.  

Day seven you are in sulking at home in your Pikachu onesie mode without the onesie.  It’s too hard to get on and off with your arm in a cast.  Instead, you just have a short nightgown on.  You still have hope he’ll call you.  That, maybe, the clean up from Sokovia was taking more out of him than he could deal with.  The fact he hasn’t even texted hurts but you’d forgive it if he just called you now.

There’s a knock at the door.

Lizzie goes to answer it and is followed back inside by Steve.  You get to your feet as fast as your injuries will allow you. As you reach him, expecting him to embrace you and to kiss you and to tell you how sorry he is, he looks down at you gravely.  “We need to talk.”

You follow him into your bedroom.  It feels like your heart has stopped.  He’s breaking up with you.  It had all been too good to be true.  You weren’t worthy of anything.  Just like you’d always known.

You close the door behind you and look up at him willing yourself not to cry.  Waiting for him to tell you what it is you did that made him fall out of love with you.  Or maybe he wasn’t ever in love with you in the first place.  He just said those things because he knew you wanted to hear them.

His hand goes to your face and he strokes your cheek with your thumb.  “I love you.”  

“But?”

“But I can’t keep doing this.  I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t see any way we can be together and avoid that happening.”

You shake your head confused.  “Steve …”

“There is no Steve.  I’ve been lying to myself.  I’m Captain America.  I’ll only ever be Captain America.  Look at you.  You could have been killed.  I can’t keep pretending that I can have both.  I can’t keep trying to use you to hold on to a person I lost seventy years ago.”

“What happened?  What did I do?”  You ask.

He leans down and kisses you.  You don’t even try to resist.  You missed it so much you just open your mouth and give yourself to him.  He pulls away and his thumb strokes over your bottom lip.  “You didn’t do anything.  Ultron said to me that I couldn’t exist without war.”

“You’re going to believe a stupid robot?”

“He was right.  I can’t.  Captain America is who I am.  I have nothing else.”  He says.

“You have me.”  You’ve started to cry and he brushes a tear away with his thumb.  

He shakes his head.  “You’re at risk if you stay with me.  I can’t keep lying to you and myself to hang on to Steve.  He’s gone.”

You snap.  You start hitting him with your good arm.  “You let me fall in love with you!  I was okay without you and you told me you wanted me!  You made me think I was worth something!”  You cry.

He wraps his arms around you and you just collapse into his chest.  “You are worth something.  You can find someone else.  Someone who can be who you need them to be.”

“I need Steve.”  You sob.  “Don’t you get it?  There is no one else for me?”  The way your breathing becomes ragged because of your tears sends stabbing pain into your lungs thanks to your cracked ribs.  You welcome it.  Any other reason to cry than this.  “You need him too.  You can’t just be Captain America.  What kind of life is that?”

“Steve died in 1944.”  He says.

He turns you so you’re not blocking the door and lets you go.  You grab his arm and he turns back to face you.

“I do love you.  I do.  This just can’t work.”  He says.  You pull him down to you and he kisses you again.  It’s soft and gentle, but that’s not what you want.  You don’t want him to be gentle with you.  You want him to use you.  Just like every other person has ever done.  He’s hurt you, now he has to use you.

You change the kiss.  You attack his mouth with yours.  Your tongues clash with each other.  You use your teeth.  As you kiss you start walking him back towards your bed.

He pulls back from you and holds you at arm’s length.  “Sweetheart, stop.  I love you.  If this is what you need to say goodbye.  To move on.  I’ll give it to you.  But you’re injured.  It can’t be rough like that.”

You hate him for his gentleness.  How he still cares for you despite the fact he’s destroying you.  He starts to remove his clothes and you awkwardly take off yours too.  You lay back on the bed and he sits down beside you.  He looks down at you, brow furrowed.

“Look at this.”  He says, gently skimming his fingers over the bruising on the spot where your ribs are broken.  “This is my fault.  This is why we can’t continue.”

“Just shut the fuck up.  You think this is the worst injury I’ve ever had?  It isn’t.  It’s not even close.”  You snarl.  “You said we could fuck.  Let’s fuck.”

He looks at you sadly and moves between your legs.  “Tell me if I hurt you.”  He says.

Steve ducks his head between your legs.  He kisses the inside of your thigh once before spreading your folds and running his tongue up your crevice.  You take a sharp breath in when he presses down on your clit and the pain in your ribs is intense.  You clench your teeth and slowly exhale.  You don’t want him to know he’s hurting you.  You want him to hurt you.  The physical pain you understand.  It trumps this soul-crushing sadness he’s dealt you.

He tongues your clit letting warm tingling feeling build in you.  As it does and moisture fills your cunt he pushes a finger inside you.  He strokes it inside you and fucks you with it.  You give yourself to it.  Pushing out your thoughts of hurt and sadness.  Your breathing becomes more ragged and your lungs ache. You let out a moan that is both pleasure and pain.

He sits up and looks at you. Not sure what to do.

“Just fuck me.  Stop looking at me like that!”  You shout.

He positions himself above you.  Careful so as not to put pressure on your torso and he slowly guides his cock into you.  As he thrusts into you, you trace your fingers over his eyelashes and across his lips.  

“I loved you, Steve.”  You say, giving yourself into your sadness.  Tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I love you too.”  He gently brushes his lips over yours.  You open your mouth and let the tip of your tongue skim over his bottom lip.

“I’m never going to find someone you know.”  You say.  “I know that’s not a reason to stay, but I need you to know that.  I will die alone and you have done that to me.”

He adjusts himself a little, bringing your knees up higher and wrapping his arms behind the back of your head.  He starts to roll his hips with every thrust and you clench around him.

“You’ll find someone.”  He says.

You shake your head.  “You’ve just proved to me what I’ve always known.  I don’t know why it came as a surprise.  I won’t let it happen again.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.”

He frowns and focuses on the task at hand. He moves a hand between you and he starts to rub your clit.  You cling to the back of his neck, digging your fingers into him.  As your orgasm builds the pain in your lungs becomes intense.  When you do come it tears you in two.  It’s pleasure and pain, and love and hate.  You scream out in ecstasy and in anguish.

A few more thrusts and he spills inside you.  He falls down beside you and you start to cry.  Really cry.  Letting yourself feel everything.  The emotional pain and the physical.  He holds you until it subsides and then sits up.  He sits on the side of the bed holding his head in his hands.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”  He says.

“Yeah well.  Welcome to the group that contains every other significant person in my life.”  You say, rolling on your side to face away from him.

He puts his hand on your thigh and you push it away.  “Just get out of here.”  You snap.

“Sweetheart…”

“I said don’t call me that.”

He stands and you listen to the sound of him shuffling around your room as he gets dressed again.  He goes to the door and hovers there for a moment.

“I still see you, y/n.”  He says.

You roll to face him.  “I see you too, Captain.”

He sighs and leaves your room, closing the door behind him.

// NEXT

[mamaskillerqueen]

I’m Gonna Miss You, Blondie || Ben!Roger x Reader

A/N: This is for @bensroger​ 3k fic challenge. My prompt was an angsty one, so this is super sad. Nevertheless, I really hope you enjoy it!

Wordcount: 3,658

Warning: This is nothing but sadness, there is no happy ending. At all. I don’t want to give away too much so just know, this is going to hurt. But also, like, horrible writing.

Prompt: “And even when I leave you, I will still be with you, in your memories.”

The only thing you were aware of was the uncomfortable bite of gravel on your skin as you fell to the ground. It was if time had slowed down the minute he put his hands on you.

You were new to school, it was your first day and you hadn't made any friends yet. The playground was packed full of kids milling about and having the best of times. When you had noticed that the swings were empty you made a beeline for them. It wasn't that you didn't want to make friends but being seven years old and new to this trying to make friends thing, you weren't entirely sure how to go about it.

Logan Collins. He was immediately identifiable as the school bully. He was in your class and you had done your best to stay away from him and his group of friends. Unfortunately for you, being new made it easy for him to notice you.

Apparently, deciding to swing on the swings by yourself labeled you as weird. To boys like Logan, weird was all he needed to make you feel like scum under someones shoe. You had made the smart decision to walk away, to try and avoid his verbal barrage but that was when he stepped in front of you. There was no time to react before he was shoving you to the ground.

"Stupid girl," he bellowed, his posse erupting in laughter.

You cast your gaze up towards the boy towering over you, and then all you saw was a flurry of blonde hair before the grey sky was wiped clean. Pushing yourself up off of your back to a sitting position you could see that a different boy had come to your rescue. To the bully's rescue came the adults.

You were sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the Head Teacher's office, impatiently waiting to explain what had happened. The blonde boy was called in first, and you could hear through the door as he answered the questions asked of him.

"Well, then why did you tackle and punch Mister Collins in the face, Roger?"

"No one deserves to be picked on," Roger answered as if it was the most obvious reason of all. "I wasn't going to stand there and let him keep screaming at her."

Just like that you met the bestest of friend you'd ever have in your life.

You had become inseparable. Where there was you, there was Roger and vice versa. He was your best mate, and you were his. It never seemed weird to you that you both shared everything with each other. Your parents used to joke that one day you two would end up married, which always made you both respond with gagging noises. You were sixteen when that changed.

The chill in the air had you wrapping your coat a little tighter around your shoulders as you trekked towards the doors to school. The shout of your name nearly made you jump out of your skin and when you turned to face the sound you couldn't help a chuckle. Roger was running towards you, blonde hair flopping into his eyes.

"I gotta ask for your help, love."

This wasn't unusual to you. Generally he came to you for help with school work in the subjects he was absolute rubbish in. In turn, you often found yourself begging for his help in the ones you couldn't seem to get a grasp on.

"Sure."

At your nod his eyes lit up and he animatedly started explaining the situation. A situation that had nothing to do with school work.

"You know Susan, yeah? Think you could say a few nice things about me, help me get a date with her?"

There was a pang in your chest but you nodded again, forcing a smile on your lips and ignored the odd feeling you couldn't quite place. Later that day you figured out how you would bring up the topic of conversation with someone you didn't exactly consider a friend. It wasn't until the day of the date that you placed the feeling. Jealousy. You convinced yourself you were just scared of losing your best friend.

After that girls came and went in his life, much like a revolving door. You had stopped trying to keep track, and for the most part you were able to ignore the jealousy. They never stuck around but you did. He made sure you did. And for now, you believed that was enough.

When you both decided to attend Uni in London you couldn't have been more excited. It was nice to know you weren't going to be alone in this new city. You had never fancied much of being the new kid, you definitely didn't want to do it again by yourself. There were times as you were packing your things that you thought about how maybe, just maybe, once you were in the city things could be different.

Of course they weren't. The revolving door of women only grew but you still remained the same. When Brian came into the picture with the band Smile, you never missed a gig. You often left alone after watching a random groupie drag Roger out the doors, the same pang you felt all those years ago now becoming a constant presence in your chest. No matter how much you tried to pretend it wasn't there.

Smile turned Queen and after much protest, a van was sold and an album was recorded. That was easily the longest and most interesting day of your life. By the time you had made it back to Roger's flat, you were far too exhausted for the journey to your own. The couch was inviting, warm, and comfy, so that was where you stayed. The weeks that followed often ended the same, on his couch too exhausted to go home.

The habit became your constant explanation for you exhaustion. Sleeping on a couch couldn't be helping you get a decent sleep but you and Roger didn't really want to be apart. He'd started sleeping at the other end, tea cups abandoned on the coffee table. Mountains of you school work had become permanent decor on the floor. Your relationship with your best friend seemed to have shifted but neither of you acknowledged it. There was no point. Soon he'd be running off to America.

"I'm gonna miss you, Blondie," You told him as you stretched up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

The two of you had never spent this much time apart since you'd met. Just thinking about how long it would be before you saw him again was heartbreaking. He wasn't due to leave for another two weeks but you had exams coming up and you weren't too sure how much you'd get to see him before he left. That was why you continuously made a point to essentially say goodbye.

He shook his head at you as you stifled a yawn behind your hand. If he said he didn't feel slightly guilty for your near constant state of exhaustion, he'd be lying. That didn't change the fact that he didn't want you far for long. It was almost like he was trying to get as much time spent with you to stock up before he spent months away.

"Got plenty of time, love. Don't go missin' me quite yet."

With a roll of your eyes you adjusted your bag on your shoulder over your coat. You'd skipped your first class to catch up on a bit of sleep and if you didn't hurry you'd miss your next one. Otherwise, you'd have stayed to argue that it wasn't nearly enough time at all.

"Shut up, I love you, bye!"

You'd been completely out the front door, it shutting with a click behind you when you realized what you had said. Just as you were getting ready to open the door and retract what you'd said, it swung open with a wide-eyed Roger on the other side.

"I-"

"Say it again..."

He sounded desperate, cutting you off before you could take it back. To everyone else this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal but it was. He was your best friend, and sure you were basically living in his flat, but you weren't together. You couldn't even brush it off as a friend thing because he knew you better than anyone and it was clear in his eyes that he knew exactly what you meant.

After a while of weighing your options you decided that life was short and you already knew you had months without him awaiting you. Could you really go on wondering what it would be like if you had told him? If maybe he wouldn't have a new girl in his room every night while he was gone? You weren't so sure you could.

"I said..." You started, bringing your eyes up to meet his, "I love you."

You didn't make it to classes that day, and it wasn't because of the exhaustion that's been haunting you.

"I'm gonna miss you, Blondie," You repeated the words from weeks ago, only this time there were tears in your eyes.

Roger and the band were leaving and you could barely keep yourself from crying. You had spent the last few weeks as a couple, cuddled together and even more inseparable than ever. To be even more dramatic than you already felt, saying goodbye to him felt like losing a limb. There were promises of phone calls and 'I love you's' exchanged but it wasn't until he had shut the door to your now shared flat that you allowed the tears to actually fall.

He'd been gone for almost two weeks when you started to come down with the flu. You tried to keep going, missing more classes wasn't really an option. After having spent so much time off to be with Roger and the band, you were in trouble of failing. Every night on the phone Rog tried to convince you to visit the doctor, your sickness was far too clear in your voice and he was beginning to worry about you. You continued to reassure him that you were fine.

It wasn't until a near collapse on the way to your next class that you finally made it to see a doctor. Your best mate had to quite literally drag you there, as you continued to argue that you were fine. It was nothing a quick nap couldn't fix. The doctor wasn't so convinced.

You nearly missed Rog's call that night. He heard you shouting a 'hello?" just as he was getting ready to place the phone back on the receiver.

"Y/N? I didn't think you were there, love."

"I-I just got in," You replied, a bit disappointed in how shaky your voice sounded. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine, I just had lost track of time in the library. Didn't think I'd make it in time to talk to you."

You could tell he wasn't quite buying it but he let it slide and you continued your conversation as usual. It was a relief to hear his voice, it calmed the fear the doctor had instilled in you mere hours ago.

The doctor had ordered the nurses take some of your blood to run tests on and you'd been staring at the same wall for what seemed like forever, waiting. You had explained you were just burning the candle at both ends, it was why you were so exhausted. Something in your explanation of the collapse didn't sit well with him and he insisted on a longer visit than you had hoped for.

You were attempting to keep your mind off of the possibilities of why he was so worried, so Roger was the only thing that occupied your thoughts. Just as you were starting to drift to sleep the doctor returned. His face seemed far more serious, a frown deepening the lines in his face and making him seem older.

He pulled in a deep breath and then his eyes seemed to take on a look of pity. "Something just doesn't seem quite right here," He explained while taking a look at the chart in his hands.

"The guys are calling for me, love," Roger said, pulling you back from your thoughts. "You sure everything is alright?"

"Yeah, Rog. Everything is fine. I promise."

You could hear a sigh on the other end of the phone. He always knew when you were lying. For now though, he seemed to be able to tell that pressing the subject wasn't the best. You were grateful for that.

"Alright, I'll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too," You replied, ignoring the tear that was making its journey down your cheek. "Bye, Rog."

When the phone was securely on the receiver you allowed yourself to feel the sheer terror that had settled into your heart the minute the doctor had uttered the diagnosis.

"We can't be certain yet, we'll have to do a few more tests but we may have caught this early enough. With some treatments we might even be able to beat this."

You knew, he didn't have to say the words, you knew. Your aunt had gone through it, years ago. It might have been when you were young but you knew the process, unfortunately that didn't make it any less scary. She hadn't won.

After quite a few tears and a good bit of wine you crawled into your bed with a new resolve. Everything was going to be fine. Just like you'd been saying for months now. Some may call it stupid to have such blind faith that things would work out but the way you saw it, either you could live terrified for years or you could live happily and accepting for months. You weren't going to give up but you definitely didn't want to spend any of your time hiding.

Or so you thought.

Weeks passed by. More tests came and went. Verdicts were dealt. Roger? Still in the dark. As far as he was aware, everything was fine. Nothing was happening in your life except school. There was once or twice that you had missed a phone call, you had sworn it was because you were napping. The truth was, most of the time, you were at the doctor.

You had started action plans for treatments and with your Professors and University to postpone your studies. Every day it started to feel more and more real, and yet somehow you continued to stay in a bit of denial. Your best moments were when you could take the nightly phone calls with the band. As the tour was wrapping up they were all missing home a bit more and insisted on speaking with you if they had the chance. You weren't complaining.

It was your mum who had put the thought in your head, and it was slowly eating you alive. Roger didn't sign up for this. His entire life was sitting in front of him, opportunities that would bring him so much success and happiness. You didn't want to be a sadness, or a burden. The best thing you could do for him was let him go. That was when you started packing.

He was due home soon, your last call had been earlier that day. Your mum had come the night before to attend a doctor's appointment with you. It was after the call she had got you thinking, and then she left to go home. There hadn't been any tears as you placed the last of your things in a box.

"Y/N!!"

The door slammed shut behind him, your heart was immediately in your throat. You had dreamed about this moment since he'd left. All you had wanted this whole time was to be wrapped in his arms, to feel safe. You couldn't do this to him though. You couldn't force him to watch you die.

"Hey, lo-..." He cut himself off as he noticed the boxes stacked up in your shared room. His brows knitted together in confusion. "W-what's going on?"

Your eyes had met his and you could feel your heart shatter. He knew you were leaving but he didn't know why. His eyes were welling up and you wanted so desperately to go to him, to kiss away his pain but you couldn't.

"I don't think this is a good idea," You motioned between the two of you with a wavering voice.

"D-don't do this, please," He begged, something you never thought you'd see him do. "Whatever happened, we can fix it. It's you and me. It's always been you and me and we only just started. Please... Please don't do this."

He had come up and taken your hands in his, stooping just a bit so he could catch your eyes. The floor had become mighty interesting during his speech. You knew this was going to hurt but you didn't think it would hurt this badly.

"I... we can't."

"Why? Why can't we?"

Tears were escaping, falling in fat splatters on the floor that you were still intent on staring down. You hoped you could find the answers there.

"I'm dying, Rog."

The words were so quiet he would have had to strain to hear them, and even then you weren't sure he heard you. Silence stretched on for what seemed like forever, and so you lifted your eyes up to his. Confusion was the prominent look in them but you could see the same terror that had haunted your own eyes since you first found out.

"I... I have cancer. It's in the late stages, the doctors have done everything they can but... It's just too late," Your words broke again and your eyes found the floor. He was unmoving for a while, and then he dropped your hands and took a step back.

"How long have you known?"

"Almost three weeks after you left..."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N!! Were you ever going to tell me?!" His face was flushed, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"I didn't want to worry you! You had enough going on!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes and giving you a glare before running his hands through his hair. You could have sworn you had heard him saying something a long the lines of "Are you joking?!" but you couldn't be sure as he was mumbling.

"I can't believe you," He finally said clearly, shaking his head. "I.. I've gotta go."

Just the way he came, he was gone again with the door slamming shut behind him. To say that wasn't how you expected this to go was an understatement. In fact, you had hoped to be gone before he got there so you could avoid this whole thing. You sat down on the bed, curling up on your side to let the tears fall freely.

You were just so tired.

You hadn't intended on falling asleep but here you were, being woken by a gentle shake of your shoulder. When your eyes popped open you were greeted with a sight that nearly shattered your heart even more than it already was. Roger was looking at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen, his eyes red and puffy. You could still see tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I love you," He started and when you started to open your mouth to speak he shook his head. "I love you, and I don't want to lose you. I'm all in, love. You can't just run away because I know you, and I know that's not what you want. I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Y/N. You're it for me."

By the end of his speech you were both crying but he never broke that promise. He was there for you through it all. His hand was clasped tightly around yours even up until your last breath. You'd been in the hospital for a long time, you didn't know if it was weeks or months anymore. It all just blurred together.

You knew. The fight had been long and you fought tirelessly, doing everything you could to try and stay there with him. You weren't ready to go, not even in the slightest but you didn't really get to choose. His head was resting on your clasped hands and you could hear him faintly mumbling something.

"Rog?"

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, his brows nearly in his hairline. You could tell he was about to greet you but you shook your head this time, stopping him in his tracks.

"You know, I love you more than anything," Your voice was thin, tired, "I'm gonna miss you so much, Blondie."

His heart shattered before your eyes and you couldn't stop the tears that started to fall down your face. He tried to tell you not to talk like that, that there was no reason to miss him. He wasn't going anywhere. You could only manage a sad smile.

"I want you to know that all I want is for you to be happy. You have to promise you'll try, okay?" He had resigned to listening to you, his own tears falling down his face. "And even when I leave you, I will still be with you, in your memories."

Roger rose from his seat and cupped your face in his hands before placing a loving kiss to your lips. You could taste his tears and it hurt to know that this was something neither of you could stop.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Rog," was the last thing you said.

[justanotherloveaffair]

Out There (Steve Rogers x Reader One Shot)

Summary: After coming out of the ice, Steve is lonely and looking to make a connection.

Warnings: Smut (of course)

Word Count: 4,240

Author’s Note: My Steve story for @captainsordersfic! I liked the idea of writing about the time after he just came into the “modern day” and is trying to make sense of dating and romance while having very healthy horny desires... and is just a little awkward :)

Your name: Submit (what is this?)

My Masterlist

No tags on this one :)

Things were so different from 1940.

Steve didn’t have anyone to tell him that his corduroy pants were pulled up too high for the club. Or even to not wear corduroy pants at all.  

He didn’t have anyone to tell him how to behave, how to stand, how to talk to women in the modern world.

He was in dire need of a cultural ambassador and too embarrassed to ask for help, which is how he ended up at a bar in brown pants hiked up to his waist and an anxious expression on his face.

Feeling lonely and horny had led him to “get out there”, as Tony had put it, before rattling off the names of five bars in Manhattan that were “off the chain.”

Off the chain. Steve had hidden his perplexed expression from Tony and noted the phrase down to type into Urban Dictionary later. Based on the results, he wasn’t sure it was exactly what he was looking for but a little voice in his head said he could use a little off the chain.

Since his entry into the modern world, Steve was relieved to find his sexual appetite hadn’t cooled in his time buried in ice but was frustrated at his failure to connect with someone other than his right hand, which got plenty of action. In place of contemporary porn, which Steve was both drawn to and repulsed by, he fantasized about hot women he saw on the street, or at the grocery store, imagining himself buried to the hilt inside and hearing his name in gasps as he forced multiple orgasms from their quivering bodies. His fantasies were intense and constant and lately Steve could focus on little else.

He needed to get laid.

Tony’s #1 recommendation for Steve was called the Devil’s Speakeasy. Based on his research, it was a jazz club in midtown Manhattan, known for cheap gin cocktails on Saturday nights and live music. It sounded better than his other options, like Candy Crush, whose website was full of half-naked, balloon-boobed women. Steve’s dick wouldn’t have said no to any of them, but he was looking to ease himself into the experience and a little old-fashioned jazzy charm seemed less terrifying.

He prepared for his night out by cleaning the apartment, giving himself a quick handjob in the shower, a fresh shave and a spritz of cologne and he was out the door.

Twenty minutes later, he stood in front of an unmanned black door with DEVILS SPEAKEASY stenciled in block white letters and considered turning around before he heard Tony’s one piece of advice repeat in his head. “What would Tony do?”

Tony would open the door.

So he did.

Steve was immediately enveloped by piano, plucky bass and saxophone dreamily weaving around each other in an improvised jazz melody that brought him right back to his past. He glanced around the club, quickly sizing it up and its occupants. Candle-lit tables for two with chairs facing the stage were scattered about, worn velvet couches and single oversized chairs stuffed into corners filled the periphery with the bar at one end and the musicians at the other.

And there were beautiful women, everywhere.

Despite the obvious 1920s theme, everyone was casually dressed and the mix of old and new was intriguing to Steve’s eye.

He decided to start with a drink and people watch, so he headed for the bar, having no clue that nearly every woman’s eyes, including yours, were following him.

A few moments later he wrapped his fingers around a tall, frosty cold glass of Tom Collins with a thin strip of cucumber artfully curled inside and brought it to his lips for a sip.

One Tom Collins turned into two into four and Steve was nestled inside a velvety soft chair trying not to stare at a woman he’d noticed around Tom Collins number 2.

You had beautiful, dark eyes, intense and focused as they watched the band from a single table, looking down every so often at your whiskey before you sipped it and then closing your eyes as you savoured it. He was addicted to your expression each time you took a drink. You would swirl, swallow and your bold lips would fall back open slightly as you returned to watching the band, your chest moving with each breath and bouncing a little whenever you excitedly clapped at the end of a song.

He was entranced.

During Tom Collins number 3, he saw you catch his stare, and from then on, you were playing a coy game with each other. One would look, the other would look back, and each would look away pretending not to notice the attention, over and over.

Steve’s fantasies were going wild.

He had you on your back on the small table, your head over the edge with your hair a dark waterfall shimmering with movement as he fucked you, your thighs draped around his hips, your tits bouncing inside your dress, your pouty lips open in a soundless scream. You had come twice but he’d kept going, flipping you up against his body to hold you in the air, fucking up into you while easily keeping you in place and locking his eyes to yours. Only after your third orgasm would he finally release inside you, returning you to the floor with his sticky come covering your pussy and thighs.

Steve was so lost in thoughts he didn’t notice your table had become empty.

He shook his head and sat slightly up in the plush velvet chair to reorient himself and hoped his rock-hard dick would chill out sooner rather than later.

He sighed wearily, annoyed at himself. So far he’d done nothing tonight but slip into his thoughts like he always did, feeling jaded and let down by his inability to abide by “What Would Tony Do?”

Right now, What Steve Would Do was go home, masturbate over a girl he’d never see again and go to sleep alone.

“You want a refill?”

His eyes snapped up towards your quiet, playful voice and your dark eyes glittered with a mix of friendliness and amusement as you stood in front of him with your weight on one foot and one hand on your hip, showing confidence with your body but coyness on your face.

“I, uh…” he started to stammer, then dipped into the well of calm coolness that had gotten him this far in life and pulled from it to respond, glancing down at the bevelled glass in your hand, “I’m actually thinking of moving on to whiskey.”

“That so?” Your eyebrow cocked and a slow smile spread on your face.

You swirled the liquid around the glass and tipped it past your lips, then set the heavy bottomed glass down on the table in front of him, took a step towards his chair so your butt was grazing the chair arm next to him and looked down into his face.

“I’ve got a nice bottle at home if you’d like to go somewhere a bit quieter.”

Steve’s mouth went dry.

And his cock said oh yes.

“No pressure though,” you followed up quickly, pre-empting him in case you’d misread him, a simple thing that made him like you even more.

Steve may have been inexperienced in modern romance but he knew what his strengths were. Putting his voice in a deep register to turn a woman on was one of them and he didn’t hesitate to use it when he answered, “I would love to.”

You grinned and he felt the electric touch of your fingers curling into his and the erection he was hoping would go away was now throbbing, aching, begging to be pulled out by the very hand that was touching his.

He had to employ a practiced covert move to shift his cock behind his belt as he stood up.

Once he was upright, you kept his hand in yours and you looked over your shoulder, your hair swaying attractively around you as your seductive eyes connected with his and you beckoned with a slight tilt of your head, inviting him towards a future that was suddenly full of sexy promise.

~~~

Your fingers curled into the man’s sand-coloured, medium length hair as his lips kissed a fiery trail down your neck and you couldn’t believe your luck.

He was hotter than anyone you’d ever seen.

The moment you’d caught his glacial blue eyes on yours, you were pulled in towards him like a celestial body trapped by gravity.

At first, you were convinced he was staring off into space behind you but it became obvious after catching each other a few times that it was no accident.

Your instant impression was that he was shy. He’d damn near blushed when he saw you looking and something about him was…. different. His clothes didn’t match his age and the way he wore them, pants hiked up and held with a belt above his waist like Jimmy Stewart, wasn’t doing him any favours.

But fuck, even from across the room you could tell he was built like a brick house. Wide shoulders, muscled arms, legs like tree trunks and a lap you fantasised yourself rocking in while your hands and mouth roamed his perfect face.

You were horny and frustrated from having been stood up and after the third whiskey you decided tonight was the night to stop being afraid to go after what you wanted.

You were making out with him in your kitchen seconds after walking in and he felt like heaven.

Despite your mutual interest to devour each other as fast as possible, he was kissing you slow. His soft lips taking his time down your cheek and neck, pausing to nibble gently, while your hands stroked and grabbed all over each other yanking at clothes and hemlines to get underneath onto hot skin. His rough, big, calloused hands were on your stomach now, underneath your dress and moving up your torso while his mouth continued down your neck.

He was driving you nuts.

You tried to speak but with each kiss you couldn’t seem to get the words out properly. “Let’s...... the .. ungh… …room..”

“What?” He paused at your shoulder blade and you felt the breath from his word against the slightly wet skin there from where his tongue had been tasting you.

You squeezed your thighs together trying to get it together.

“The living room, let’s go to the living room,” you gasped breathlessly.

You still hadn’t turned on the apartment lights but the busy street where you lived cast plenty of neon coloured shadows into the room. They made him look like living art, his perfect symmetric features awash in blues, purples, and greens as he sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap.

You settled your bare thighs on each side of his covered legs and his big, warm hands instantly went to cover and squeeze them.

“Am I going too fast?”

You sat back on your legs smiling at him and shook your head, considering his slightly unsure expression with one of interest and curiosity.

He seemed to have no idea how hot he was. In fact, he seemed totally surprised to be there at all. The way he looked at you, like you were a marvellous angel, made you think he didn’t do this often. Most men you’d hooked up with seemed to expect things to follow a typical porn scenario: blowjob, missionary, doggy style, and finish on your body. Rinse, repeat. You and your girlfriends had such similar experiences you were starting to feel you’d rather go to bed with one of them than one more man who thought anal on the first date was normal.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy any of those things, it was the expectation that you would do it.

So the man beneath you, asking you if he was going too fast, was every kind of right and you needed his dick in you like fifteen minutes ago.

You calmed yourself long enough to cup his strong jaw and give him a long moment of eye contact before you answered, shaking your head side to side, “No.”

You searched each other’s eyes, looking for consent and agreement for what you were both wanting to do and giving it beyond a question or doubt.

Just like that, you were flipped onto your back and covered head to toe with his heat and heavy weight. Immediately your hands grabbed at his solid back, pulling the fabric of his shirt into fists, yanking it up and out of his belt and you gasped and hissed feeling the contact of something very big press against your middle.

Oh shit.

While you bit your lip and considered the implications of what was currently trapped between you, he leaned his upper body away to pull his checkered button up shirt the rest of the way out of his belt and lifted it up and off his head.

You felt amazement come over you once again as the rippling muscles of a body at peak physical fitness were revealed to you. It shouldn’t have surprised you, considering how you noticed his shirt was fitting him but it was still a pleasurable shock to be right and your hands instantly went to touch his sculpted form.

“You’re incredible…” you sighed, thinking again how lucky you were to have all of this to yourself and if you were dreaming you never wanted to wake up.

His eyes closed, just enjoying the simple touch of your fingers and you drank in his beautiful features up close. Impossibly long eyelashes, dark and fanned out against his flawless pale skin kept your attention while you eagerly touched wherever your hands could get. You alternated between light, sweeping touches and scratches on his back and arms, enjoying watching him relish the feeling before sliding your hands underneath his belt and pants onto his round butt. When you touched him there, you gasped as he bucked forward grinding down into you, then whined slightly in frustration at the clothes still covering him and began yanking his belt down.

He took the hint and you rested on your elbows as he shifted up to his knees. His pace was slow as he worked the belt buckle, fixing you with a wanting stare that turned you into liquid as he unzipped his pants. Your eyes traced the dimensions of his upper body down to his narrow waist, waiting with baited breath as his hands paused before he took a breath and pushed his pants and underwear down his body.

Wow. Now that is a cock…. you thought, gulping as you realized there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t impressive, and you hoped you were up to the challenge.

You felt an immediate need to feel his naked body against yours and hurriedly yanked up the hem of your dress, then slid your panties down your legs without any pause or hesitation.

Instead of laying down over you, he settled into a sitting position and held out his hand, guiding you towards his lap.

Most guys would have had your ankles behind your ears by now jackhammering you with little regard for your pleasure, but not him.

You were grateful he was handing you control of how deep and how fast you took him inside you for the first time.

As you straddled him, you finally reached down to take his warm, silky cock into your palm and your stomach tightened with trepidation realizing he was nearly twice the girth of your last lover.

“Fuck…” you whispered, as your hand became acquainted with what was about to be nine inches deep in your body.

With concentration you maneuvered yourself so that you were pressing his wide, mushroom shaped head against your pussy and you felt his scalding breath on your face at the touch, before he started kissing you again and you exchanged gasps and breaths in between tangling your tongues while you split your concentration between kissing him and rubbing him all around your pussy, up, down, over your clit and back again. You knew this was going to take time and you’d need to be as wet as possible.

You were becoming impatient with your own teasing and couldn’t imagine the restraint and patience he was drawing from to stay so still, and every so often he’d clench his teeth and moan amidst your kiss as he slipped between your wet folds over and over.

You both moaned together as finally you pressed down, and gasped at the stretch and pressure of him entering you, your nails digging into his shoulder blades at the feeling of fullness he created. Your body came down slowly, only managing a few inches before you paused, breaking from his kiss as you breathed hard.

“It’s okay, take your time,” he whispered against your cheek and you felt his hands curl around your hips, squeezing gently.

It blew your mind how sexy that patience was and it made you want to take the rest of him all at once, but you knew you couldn’t.

He continued to hold you around your hips and whisper against your neck and ear as you thrust gently up and down, taking a bit more every time. “Nice and slow, that’s it,” he encouraged, making you whimper, your eyes rolling back at the sound of his voice and coming down on him a little harder. You’d nearly worked him all in and he was stretching you far beyond your limits, the slight pain adding to the satisfying bliss in a way you’d never understand.

When you were all the way down in his lap you both pressed your foreheads together, sighing with relief.

His hand tangled in your hair bringing your lips against his in a soft kiss that soon became hungry and crushing and needy. Your fingers made fists in his hair and your hips became restless in his lap.

One of his hands remained in your hair while the other traced down your naked back and you felt his warm palm on your hip, the strength behind his grip easily helping you move off of him, up his shaft and landing back down, burying him deep again and he groaned with pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, and immediately did it again, letting him help guide you up and feeling his strength as he pulled you back down with a bit more force.

Both of his hands moved down to your hips and you sensed what was coming and were beyond ready for it, your juices flowing freely down onto your thighs.

Your hips started to move up and down while you shared control of the speed, occasionally making your skin clap together. You circled your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself and stay upright as you began a rhythm. All traces of pain were gone, leaving only the satisfying feeling of being stretched to the brim by his girth. You were rocking in his lap just as you had imagined doing back at the jazz club, holding onto him with only your fingertips as you leaned back in his lap and fucked him while barely coherent words fell from your lips.

You felt his fingers crushing around your hips to get more and more of you and you were more than ready to relinquish control when he asked, “Baby, please let me….”

You answered, “Yes, yes, oh yes,” then squealed as you were lifted into the air and flipped onto your back.

He’d barely missed a beat, pulling your legs up against him as he thrust all the way inside, finding a depth that made you scream “Holy fuuuuuuck!” as his impossibly large cock bottomed out making you feel him up to your belly button and beyond.

His strong arms held your thighs, pinning them against his body as he began to fuck you and your eyes rolled back in your head. “Jesus,” you cried weakly, barely conscious, nearly blacking out with pleasure as he reached deeper in you than any man ever had, over and over again, the sounds of his skin smacking against your thighs filling the room. You grabbed a pillow above your head to pull and squeeze as he worked you towards an orgasm that was coming at you faster than you could comprehend.

You had come with a man inside of you only once before and he’d been holding a vibrator against your clit.

Now here you were, feeling that familiar buildup tightening and coiling in your core and tears gathered at the corners of your eyes as it started to overtake you.

“Please please please,” you begged hoping he would know what was happening to you.

Your hands shot down to lock over his and grip him with desperation and his mouth dropped open in wonder at the sight of you starting to come.

“Oh gooodddddddd uhhhhhhhhhhhh….” you moaned in a high-pitched prayer to the gods as you clenched and gripped him, locking your legs around his back to hold him deep inside and you bucked your hips in an involuntary up and down grind while convulsing with pleasure.

Steve didn’t miss a second of it, his eyes wide as your beautiful form twisted and shook in a moment so perfect he’d need nothing but the memory to get himself off for years to come.

He had superior, genetically enhanced strength and stamina but even Steve couldn’t last at the sight and feel of your orgasm.

He was a few strokes away from coming himself and he wasn’t prepared for the feeling that overtook him as he released inside of a woman for the first time since he came out of ice.

Endless spurts of come filled you and you looked up at him amazed at the sounds coming out of him. Your initially shy, polite hook-up was balls deep in you, cock twitching and jerking as his seed exploded inside and began to seep out around him as he slowly rocked in and out with the final remaining sparks draining out of his body.

Unable to hold your legs up anymore, you lowered them down until your feet were on the floor and you looked up at him, sweaty, breathing hard and wearing a bright, giddy smile.

You held up your hand, extending it and said with a grin in your voice, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Steve’s chin dropped to his chest as he let out a short laugh, the sound like music to you and he took your hand.

“I’m Steve. It’s a pleasure.”

Your eyes met with matching charming smiles and Steve felt another wave of tingling sparks go through him at the attraction and connection he felt with you.

Your bodies finally parted and Steve held out his hand in a stop motion. “Wait here.”

He went looking for the bathroom and quickly returned with a warm, soaked towel that he held against your sticky thighs and once again you were stunned as he slowly rubbed your skin with the utmost care and gentleness.

“Steve, you’re one of a kind, I gotta say,” you smiled up at him, as his ministrations left your skin clean, warm and soothed.

He shrugged his shoulder with a half-smile, once again looking shy which you now knew was a trait that coexisted mutually with an unbelievable knack for pleasuring a woman.

As you smiled at him you thought to yourself, there was no chance you were letting him leave without your number, should he choose to make you the luckiest woman alive again some lonely night in the future.

While Steve dressed, you pulled on a tank top and shorts in place of your dress feeling a wave of sadness that he would be leaving shortly.

As you stood in front of each other, neither seeming to know what to say, Steve stepped towards you, holding open his arms to pull you in for an intimate hug, one that convinced you that you wouldn't be seeing the last of him.

You deeply inhaled his musky scent, and as you came apart he tipped your head backwards holding you still as he lowered his lips to kiss you slowly.  Your hands sank into his hair and you committed every detail of him to memory knowing you would be thinking about it for weeks and months to come.

You already knew you’d be keeping the details of your encounter with him as something just for you instead of sharing it with your friends. It was too rare and special to spoil by talking about it.

Steve tucked your hair behind your ear as your lips came apart and he kissed your forehead, then started to turn his body to leave.

“Steve wait…” you gripped his arms, squeezing him and you darted into the kitchen to quickly scribble your number onto a piece of paper, ripping it off and you returned to him, holding it out.

“Call me anytime.”

He slid the paper into his pocket after blinking at it for a moment, before coming back to you, sliding his hands back into your hair and whispered against your lips,

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

[longforgottenunofficial]

That’s My Queue

The back half of the queue area for the Disneyland Haunted Mansion has a long and curious history. Major additions to the berm took place in September of 2016...

...but the queueing area down below remained the same, still looking much as it does in these older photos:        

"That's my favorite brass knob.  That one, right there."

That last one from Daveland has some magic in it, so stay tuned.  (A big tip o' the hat to Dave.)

I'm old enough to remember this section when it hosted the family plot graveyard, a short-lived minor masterpiece remembered today by few. Back in the opening year, when a much higher percentage of riders had no idea what lay in store for them, the queue graveyard was virtually the only clue you had as to the tone of the attraction. Plus, the lines were longer and slower back then, so you had plenty of time to contemplate the epitaphs (and if you were a geek, to memorize them). If you're a Mansion fan, you really ought to know about this long-forgotten gem. In the original version of this post (which has been rewritten umpteen times as new material has come to light), I was content at this point to simply remark that there aren't many photographs of the little cemetery, and I threw this meager montage at you before continuing:

I also mentioned that you could get a glimpse of the old graveyard in the 1970 Osmonds Disneyland Showtime episode, which featured the HM.

But in August of 2016 Gregg Ziak published these spectacular photos of the original graveyard at the "Vintage Disneyland" page on Facebook:

So I figure I'd put up some of the better photos I've got rather than that ugly little montage. I'm not at liberty to show you every photo I've got, but these are among the best. This first is actually a bw photo by Athenamama that I've colorized and processed in various ways. Turned out nice.

You know this one.

"It's the backside of Wathel!" (Some of you will get that; some won't. Some who do will wish they hadn't.)

As it happens, one of the extant photos of the family plot was taken from exactly the same spot as the Daveland photo above.  Not only that, but this 1996-98 photo by Allen Huffmann at DisneyFans...

...was taken from almost the same spot as a publicity shot of the Osmonds in the old cemetery, one of several pubbies released to the papers before their March 1970 TV program...

...and from that wretched photo a serviceable rendition of the boneyard sans Osmonds (and Kurt) can be made.

Between the two sets, a pair of cunningly-crafted animated gifs should show you exactly where the old graveyard was located. And since Long Forgotten is all about cunningly-crafted, here y'go (with our thanks to Captain Halfbeard for the gifs).

There were eight stones in the family plot, arranged like this:

I've put the best photos I currently have of each of the eight original stones side-by-side with the new, 2016 versions in the post on that topic, so there is no longer any need for a miserable montage here. Check 'em out. Did I hear someone say they wanted "magic eye" 3D's?  We got 'em, in two groovy sizes.  Dude, it's like being there.

As many of you know, the epitaphs were composed by show writer X. Atencio as wry tributes to various Imagineers who worked on the Haunted Mansion.  Here are the original Disneyland eight, left to right in the layout above, with the Imagineer thus honored:

The WDW set was probably created at the same time, but it is not identical to the DL set.  Orlando has only five of the DL eight, leaving out Cousin Victor, Phineas Pock, and Rolo Rumkin.  On the other hand, they have several others that Anaheim did not have originally:

RIP Good friend Gordon Now you've crossed the river Jordan Here lies a man named Martin The lights went out on this old Spartan Rest in peace, Cousin Huet We all know you didn't do it RIP In memorium [sic], Uncle Myall Here you'll lie for quite a while Here lies good old Fred A great big rock fell on his head RIP RIP Mr. Sewell The victim of a dirty duel Peaceful Rest Dear departed Brother Dave He chased a bear into a cave

In 2002 a new animated tombstone was added at WDW:

Dear sweet Leota, beloved by all In regions beyond now, but having a ball The Imagineers being honored in these WDW epitaphs are listed here, if you're interested.  I'm too lazy to duplicate all that info now, and we've got other ground to cover. (I do give some special attention to the Martin stone HERE, because it's often misattributed.) You hear these epitaphs described as "witty" and even "frightfully funny," an example of Boot Hill-type gallows humor ("Here lies Lester Moore.  Four slugs from a .44.  No Les.  No Moore.").  Okay, many of them are, but let's face it:  in others the whimsy is so subtle as to be practically non-existent.  "In memory of our patriarch, dear departed Grandpa Marc." "Master Gracey laid to rest, no mourning please at his request."  I have to stop here as my laughter becomes uncontrollable.  No, really, if there's humor in there, it's so dry that even an Englishman might miss it.  Don't get me wrong; I love it.  It's the comedic equivalent of watching someone trying to see how slowly he can ride a bike without falling over. The family plot was actually constructed in June of 1969, and so it was there by opening day in August, but the park quickly realized that they needed more room for crowd control, and the graveyard was doomed almost from birth. The current arrangement of back-and-forth queueing replaced the little cemetery at the beginning of May, 1970, less than nine months after the Mansion opened. X wanted to award the stones to the Imagineers to whom they paid tribute, and so they ordered up a fresh batch of headstones for installation up on the berm.  As it turns out, the only guy who took his tombstone home (as far as we know) was X himself.  It's still sitting in his backyard today.  Marc's sat by his desk for a time, until he finally couldn't stand having his own tombstone staring at him while he was trying to work, and he got rid of it.  Rolly's stone ended up inside the ride, in the graveyard scene, not far from the singing bust that also goes by the name of Rollo Rumkin [sic]. Wathel Rogers' and Vic Greene's stones went onto the berm, along with Phineas Pock, which wasn't a tribute to anyone. The fates of "Master Gracey" and "Brother Claude" are unknown. It's possible they went up on the berm too, but according to "Anonymous" in the Comments section below, who claims to have intimate knowledge about the subsequent history of the stones, only three were recycled. Take it FWIW. Exactly where the berm transferees were located on the hillside, we don't know, but don't worry: I'll devote a whole post to the berm graveyard one of these days.

(©Disney video) Pock Marked "Phineas Pock" may have originally been the name they were going to give to the Ghost Host.  Reportedly, there's a blueprint around of an unused WDW tombstone reading "Phineas Pock, Lord and Master."  Be that as it may, they got a lot of mileage out of the name.  One of the singing busts is "Phineas P. Pock."  It's on the blueprints and on the leaders for the film strips they used to use for the effect, so that one is as official as it can possibly be.

The purported author of the popular old souvenir booklet, Magic from the Haunted Mansion, is a certain "Phineas J. Pock."

And then there's the "Phineas Pock" who died in 1720 and starred in a radio ad when the Mansion first opened in 1969: Phineas Pock Radio Ad [Audio Link]

In the spring of 2011, up popped a Phineas stone in the expanded graveyard at WDW:

For the sake of completeness, I suppose I should mention that one of the new crypts in the WDW queue is for "Prudence Pock." No doubt some people associate Mr. Pock with the rotund hitchhiker, who is also known as "Phineas," but that name actually originated with a cast member who probably was influenced by the plethora of Pocks already there.  If you want to try to sort out this peck of Pocks, feel free.  It's just a funny name. Plots That Follow The Plots There is a great deal of logical continuity to the mass of data presented to you with the HM.  It's hard to know how much of it is deliberate, how much is dumb luck, how much is the Imagineering team's artistic instincts firing on all cylinders, and how much is the Haunted Mansion Muse, overseeing the project at all times and eliminating patent absurdities as they arise.  The two human graveyards are a good example (there are two pet cemeteries too). In your imagination, the queue graveyard—in either its ground level or its original berm incarnations—was not to be confused with the graveyard scene that provides the ride's climax. That graveyard is a very old public cemetery, next to which the Mansion was built sometime during the 19th c. It's "out back" in some vague sense, behind the berm and the trees, not visible from the front. The Caretaker is not connected with the HM but is a public employee, caring for that old municipal cemetery. That's why you go through that big iron gate to get into it, and that's why Collin Campbell put a sign on the gatepost in his painting of it.

It's "something-something Glade Cemetery."  Maybe "Whispering Glade"?

The headstones back there are uniformly in the style of 16th-18th century New England grave markers, and many of them are dated accordingly.  They're much older than the house, in other words.

There are hidden tributes on those, too, but that's yet another blog post. In contrast, the boneyard out front was, as I've already called it several times, the family plot, the private family burial grounds. That explains the relatively modern (i.e., 19th c.) tombstone designs, and that explains the familial terminology: "Grandpa," "Brother," "Cousin." How carefully all of this was thought out—like I say, I can't tell.  But the coherence in details like this, even when it isn't strictly necessary, is one of the things that embolden me to reach for the word "art" without embarrassment. There is an unexpected imaginative unity in the whole presentation. Whether or not the new (2016) berm graveyard follows suit is debatable. The stones are, for the first time, made to look old. They're worn and cracked. That, together with the wall-top fencing, might encourage guests to assume that the berm graveyard is simply the "back there" graveyard spilling over the hilltop and down to the wall. Be that as it may, our little tour of the short-lived, original, long-forgotten, front yard cemetery is now completed.

Originally Posted: Friday, July 16, 2010 Original Link: [x]