#mc!steve rogers

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday. 

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—” 

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?” 

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

[aryuunachigiri]

pleasepleaseplease tag your non-reader friendly posts correctly, I'm tired of thinking one post is an "x reader" but the mc is an oc 🥲🥲🥲🥲

yes we can just imagine ourselves in the oc's place but I'm telling y'all it doesn't hit as hard as reader-insert's 😓

actually this is kinda all applies under the not tagged correctly posts where they get tagged as "male" reader but the content in it is afab 😢 or the non gender-neutral ones getting tagged in a gendered post

[gettinshiggywithit]

atsushi jumping on the bomb like that is so very Steve Rogers of him,and i love it~

[captainrogers-thepatriot]

Steve's kids (my OCs)

First is Amelia Carter-Rogers, also known as Amy. She was born in 1955 in Brooklyn, New York. She was mostly raised by her two parents, Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. In 1950, at five years old, she met her dad for the first time. He traveled back in time to start a life with Peggy. He was surprised to find out he had a daughter waiting for him. Amy has the ability to time travel. Doctors determined it was due to a mutated gene within her. As a child didn't have much control over this power. She would often randomly time travel to different periods of time and have to somehow figure out a way to get home. Eventually her parents enrolled her in the Xavier school for the gifted, where she learned how to be in control of her powers. She even learned she could manipulate time. As an adult Amy works as a shield agent and enjoys keeping the world around her safe. Also once Amy came into adulthood she realized she stopped aging, which doctors determined was due to her mutation.

In 1960, Peggy and Steve had Amy's sister, Sarah Margaret Rogers. She was born in Queens, New York. Unlike her sister she was born with out powers and was raised by both her parents through her entire life. Sarah attended a mainstream school in the city and had a small group of friends. She looked up to her sister and often tagged along with her whereever she went. Sarah had always been a bit of a daddys girl. She adored Steve and clung to him too. Also once Sarah came into adulthood she begun to stop aging due to the serum in her father's DNA. Sarah went on to be a teacher.

Lastly, there is James Joseph Rogers. He often goes by Jay. He was born in 2005. Jay was adopted by Peggy and Steve when Jay was six years old on August 2nd. Before being adopted he lived in a Hydra lab and was a test subject for their experiments. Steve saved him while on a mission to gather information at the lab. When Steve found Jay he was malnutrited and very sick. Steve and Peggy helped him get healthy. Jay is very close with Peggy, she was retired when they took him in. So she was home more often. Where as Steve was working often with shield. He adores Steve as well but he is closer to Peggy. Jay has the super serum in him and therefore has the powers that come with that.

[americasass81]

Okay so first off ... totally love the reader.  I mean that whole organizing them out by what they like and don’t like.  Who doesn’t love that, especially when added to the guys’s responses.

“She has us written down like notecards,”

I mean who didn’t totally hear the annoyance in Ransom’s voice while at the same time picturing the outrage on Steve’s when she reduced him to nothing more than “You must be the one who isn’t a fan of parsley,”

I can already feel his palm twitching at the level of disrespect he perceives from this comment.  And what of the guys?  Is our reader right not to trust them?  After all not only has she been warned to steer clear of them, but even Caroline it seems has already deduced that there is something about them that requires one being saved from them.

Definitely a most interesting start here with the sinister undercurrent, Steve and Ransom apparently having a reputation, a reader more than determined to give them a little of their own demeaning attitude and a certain Joel Miller whose impact on the story has yet to be revealed.  Totally giddy to see where this all leads.  

wicked ones - intro

... I'm going for it.

Ransom Drysdale x Female MC / Ransom Drysdale x Personal Chef! Female Reader / Joel Miller x Personal Chef! Female Reader / Dark Steve Rogers x Personal Chef! Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language, a mild threat.

Summary | Hired as a personal chef for a wealthy family while they vacation in Martha's Vineyard seems like an easy job until a disappearance of a guest makes you wonder if you'll make it out alive.

There aren’t many summers that you can remember that allowed for such a breathtaking view. Cotton candy pink and purple hover as the dawn begins to form, opening the window to let the cool, salty air inside your room, goosebumps forming on your arms. It’s worth it to wake up before the rest of the household, stealing a few moments to yourself.

Pre-med wouldn’t allow this – the ability to have a whole suite to yourself for the summer on Martha’s Vineyard, a personal chef for one of the wealthiest families in Massachusetts. Being a personal chef never seemed like it was in the cards. At least, not by your father’s hope for you to become a doctor. Your childhood dream ended up being something he held onto throughout your teenage years and onto college, giving you the silent treatment for a whole two weeks before he finally caved. Deep down, your happiness is what mattered, something your mother had instilled in your since you were a kid. So they’re happy now – even if they’re still not used to you being away during some of the major holidays and seasons.

Still, it’s worth it. Working for the Drysdale-Thrombey family hasn’t always been a walk in the park – an hour long interview with Harlan about your background and another two hour interview with Linda and Walt about various allergies and menu items that they expected and a month later, you were hired. Which means that you reap the benefits when the family heads toward the Vineyard for the summer and into fall.

This morning, you’re expecting three more guests. Ransom and his girlfriend, some socialite turned model that you’ve seen on the cover of Vanity Fair and his twin, Steve, who is flying in from London.

Twins, Stella had reminded you when she had taken your bags to your room, ignoring you when you’d protested that you could do it, slapping your hands away.

“Steve is the blond one, Ransom is the brunette. Both are just like Linda, in a way. Best to steer clear of them,” Stella warned you, her midwestern accent sweet while she ushered you down toward the kitchen. “They’re a lot to deal with.”

It doesn’t matter to you, especially since you’ve only heard of them in passing. Linda seems to be proud of both of her sons, even going so far to use them as a threat to Joni when she has too much to drink and you’re making her something quick to eat so that it absorbs the alcohol, Linda muttering under her breath for Joni to ‘just wait’ until her boys come.

You’ve learned to mind your business from day one and let them deal with whatever complicated relationships they have. There’s nothing for you to understand anyway, not with the amount of the money that separates you from them. You’re paid well to cook and that’s what you plan to do, with a little free time to explore the town.

Three extra mouths to feed won’t hurt.

-

“Ransom, will you slow down? You told me you don’t even like your mother,” Caroline mutters, her heels tapping loudly on the pavement. “Is it really that serious?”

“I need a drink,” Ransom snaps, the door opening as Linda stands in the entryway.

“About time,” she greets her son, looking over his shoulder at the woman following behind him.

He’s already up the stairs, Linda raising an eyebrow in interest at the outfit she’s chosen. This one has zero awareness of what is acceptable to wear in a place like this and it shows, the young woman placing her hands on her hips when she notices that Ransom is already heading inside, not even giving her a glance.

“Not another model,” Linda says under her breath to Ransom. “These never last, you know.”

“Yes, because your taste in men is so refined, right Mother?” Ransom fires back, continuing through the foyer, leaving Caroline to stop in her tracks at the way Linda glares.

Linda knows that all the girls Ransom brings are a test. Not for Linda, not for Harlan but for them. They always leave miserable or in tears and Linda isn’t sure what this one will do. Judging by her dolled up appearance and her huge designer bag that she swings over her shoulder, she guesses that it will be tears.

“You must be Mrs. Drysdale,” Caroline greets her, looking around her to see if she can see Ransom. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Linda gives her a cold smile at her feigned and failed charm.

“You know, this is usually a family vacation,” Linda reminds her. “Consider yourself a plus one but don’t get any ideas. You aren’t family. Understand?”

“Yes,” Caroline huffs. “You’ve made that clear.”

“Good,” Linda replies, slamming the door in her face.

-

The last thing Ransom expects to see is your eyes wide in surprise when he bursts through the kitchen, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. It was a mistake to bring her here. Ransom knows it. He can tell her to leave – order her to – and he’ll be at peace. There’s a sense of enjoying the spoils of the chase that makes him remember why she’s here.

“Can I help you?” you ask, placing your knife down.

He ignores you, giving you a passing glance while he rummages through the cabinet, pulling out the bourbon and searching for a glass. He thought you’d at least give him some assistance, the sound of the knife slicing only irritates him more.

“Need a little help here,” Ransom tells you, hearing you drop the vegetables into a bowl, reaching for another tomato.

When you don’t answer him, he closes the cabinet, clearing his throat.

“A glass?”

“You know where they are,” you answer back, nodding over to your left. “Help yourself.”

He scoffs at your response, moving toward the cabinet, plucking out a glass. He hovers near you for a moment, sizing you up. 

Harlan did mention bringing along his personal chef but like the others, he’s ignored whoever is in the kitchen. They don’t matter to him – Joni uses it as a personality trait when she’s among the other ass kissers who congregate at the country club, trying to one up each other.

There’s something about you that throws him off. Your demeanor, confident and focused, not giving him the time of day like the other chefs and help around the house do.

“Do you know who I am?” Ransom inquires, pouring his drink into the glass.

You lift your head slightly, still finishing up your task, moving onto a clove of garlic.

“Light coconut allergy,” you reply without making eye contact. “Not a fan of chardonnay.”

Ransom downs his drink, narrowing his eyes at your response.

“Reduced to notecards, huh?” he answers back. “You must be new.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

He isn’t sure to reply to your question, your control on the knife impressive while you mince with precision.

“Most of the help does.”

“Then perhaps that’s your problem. I’m not the help,” you counter, still not giving him an ounce of your attention. “I’m here to make sure you’re all fed. I get paid to cook, not to find out who you are.”

“Bold,” Ransom quips. “We’ll see how long you last.”

“I hope that isn’t a threat, Ransom.”

His head snaps to attention at his name, your back to him as the pan is placed on the stove, the garlic and oil tossed inside.

“So you do know me.”

“Never said I didn’t. I asked if I was supposed to know you.”

Ransom empties the last of his glass, placing it loudly on the counter.

You don’t flinch, your back to him still while you stir the mixture in the pan.

“Maybe not,” he says after a pause, giving you a lustful up and down before heading back to the living room. “But you will.”

-

Caroline ventures down the stairs in the darkness, aware that any slight noise has the capability to wake Linda.

Ransom hasn’t come to bed and her curiosity has gotten the better of her, taking one step at a time until she reaches the ground floor, hearing hushes voices coming from Harlan’s study. 

One sounds distinctly like Ransom.

And so does the other one, the more she gets closer. Shadows dance on the ceiling from the fireplace when she peeks through the door, seeing Ransom sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, sipping a glass of bourbon.

“You had to know she would say something,” the other voice says from the other chair. “Slum it if you want but she won’t be acceptable.”

“You really think I find her acceptable? I found her entertaining,” Ransom corrects. “Did you happen to see the new chef Harlan has?”

“No. Why would I need to?”

Ransom leans forward, a smirk appearing on his lips.

“She’s pretty to look at.”

“You really are relentless. Try not fucking the help this summer, will you?”

“No promises.”

Caroline seethes, her hand on the doorknob so tight that it creaks when she finally lets it go. At the noise, she covers her mouth.

“What was that?” the man asks, their conversation cut short.

“What was what?” Ransom answers.

The person in the chair stands up, Caroline moving away from the door and running right into you. Gasping in surprise, the door opens wider, Caroline pleading with her eyes for you to say something – anything – to get her away from this situation.

Plate in hand, you size up the man at the door, Ransom standing behind him. They look similar – the man standing next to Ransom does nothing to calm the situation, studying Caroline and you for a moment. They look nearly identical, with the blond one wearing an pair of black slacks and a loosened black tie with a white shirt, as if he’d come from some event.

“It’s late,” the man says, raising an eyebrow at Caroline, who swallows at his hard gaze.

“She was asking me where the kitchen is,” you reply, turning her back around. “Follow me.”

“You must be the chef,” the man says with a nod. 

Caroline looks over her shoulder, seeing you reply in kind.

“You must be the one who isn’t a fan of parsley,” you respond. “Pardon us.”

“She has us written down like notecards,” Ransom reminds him.

“Steve,” the man calls out.

Caroline pauses, feeling your hand at her shoulder to make her go forward.

“I’m aware,” you reply. “Goodnight.”

Once you’re both out of earshot, Caroline exhales, grabbing your arm.

“How did you know to save me from that?”

“I didn’t,” you answer her. “But I don’t trust them.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

[envy-of-the-apple]

i really appreciate you having some fics where reader is older than the love interest! im not even older than some of the characters you've written for like gojo and geto but i've definitely aged out of certain concepts where the reader is like just starting to be an adult or something and ideas where reader is actually way more mature or has more life experience and still gets caught up is just very refreshing and fascinating! it helps that you're a very skilled writer too!

no, thank you for liking it! I will now use your comment to rant for five minutes.

I've just gotten so sick of fics that mainly portray the MC as 'FrESHLY 18' or in their early twenties. OR OR my personal favorite...some writers are terrified to make their characters 30 ('no y/n isn't almost thirty, she's 29 and a half'). Like bestie, it's okay. You are ALLOWED to have older female characters. it's not a crime.

(I know you're probably talking about monsoon, but I probably shouldn't call gojo a 'love interest' considering its not really a romance....uhhh 'dark interest'???? idk but in Heart Infection (my konigxreader fic) the mc IS older than him so ig we can use the term 'love interest'!!!!)

Yeah, I'm starting to write more older reader because there's literally no content for that type of stuff. I know i shouldn't confuse fiction with reality, but with all this content starring young female mcs....it kind of feels like women arent deserving of love and affection when they're in their mid-twenties, thirties, forties. Its lowkey kinda depressing:(

Anyway here are some characters who i think would prefer older women!

Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Mammon, Kurapika, Steve Rogers, Hawks, Mirko, Rengoku, that one guy from aot who everyone thought was suddenly hot right he was on the brink of death

[xoxosimp]

The Heart Wants What it Wants

Pairing: Biker!Steve Rogers x female clubgirl!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a million reasons why you should give up your feelings for Biker!Steve, but your heart can't help itself. 

Warnings: fluff,angst,smut, Possessive!Steve, unprotected sex (stay safe yall) , penetrative sex, happy ending

A/N: I haven't written anything in two years, so forgive the poor characterization and mediocre writing. Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. Inspired by “ The heart wants what it wants” by Selena Gomez.

~~~~~~~~

“Steve  is not going to let you leave,” Wanda scoffed as she wipes the counter. 

“ Girl, your pussy is magic. Do you really think he’s gonna let you go?” Lucia stated matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your legs. “ Club girls come and go. Once I leave, five more girls are going to jump to take my place.”

Being a club girl to one of the biggest motorcycle clubs had its perks. You had a roof over your head , with zero bills to pay. You had a family that watched your back and the freedom to focus on university. In return, you would consensually sleep with the members of the Howling Commandos Motorcycle Club . The only rules were you were to only sleep with members of the MC and pick up some of the chores around the clubhouse.

You were a sweetbutt. Sweet mama. Croweater. Whatever nickname, to each their own. You were club property. 

Being the President’s,Steve Roger’s  favorite girl had its perks, as well. No one got away with disrespecting you,  which is unusual on its own considering you were no one’s old lady. But for the past year, you’ve exclusively slept with Steve . And cuddled with him. And go riding with him ( which is a privilege on its own, all bikers treat their motorcycles like a temple), and tell him every fear, hope, and dream you’ve ever had. 

If you wanted to leave, you would need to ask the president. You’ve been a club girl for almost two years now, and every single time they’ve asked to leave, Steve granted their request. 

“I can't stay with the club forever,” you say weakly, leaning your elbow on the counter Wanda just wiped. “ I plan on going to grad school out of state.”

“ You mean you don't want to stay with Steve, forever,” Lucia corrected beside you. “ I thought you liked being his favorite,” she asked sarcastically.

You were planning on taking a gap year since you were near the end of your undergrad career. You wanted to travel. Take a vacation. Finally relax , since it's been endless work since your freshman year and it will just be more work once you start grad school. 

You could travel all you want as a club girl. But no matter how far you could travel, your heart will always pull you to him.

But does he yearn for you?

“ I don't think my heart could take much more, guys.” 

“Oh my gosh, you love him,” Wanda stated.

What’s not to love? Steve was a kind, compassionate, and down to earth man. He would put his life down for anyone in the club without a second thought. Steve was sexy as sin, with huge arms and even more sculpted legs to match. He was a golden boy. He was amazing.

And so not yours.

“ There’s only so much my heart can take , Wan,” you took a deep breath to steady your voice. “ I knew what I was signing up for when I became a club girl but I didn't think it would give me this much heartache.”

“You’re an incurable romantic, Y/N. You feel too much,” Lucia stated simply. “ You don't even know if Steve feels the same way.”

Your heart plummeted. Wanda glared at Lucia. “ Don’t look at me like that,” Lucia defended herself, “ I’m capable of getting under someone without catching feelings.”

“ Anyways,” Wanda said curtly, “Luce, don't you have a paper or two to write?” 

She rolled her eyes but nonetheless hopped off the stool and slung her purse over her shoulder. “ I hate that you’re right. I will see you bitches later.” You and Wanda say your goodbyes. 

“ And my break is over, I have budget reports to look at,” Wanda sighed.

“Fun.”

“ Like a hole in the head,” Wanda remarked.

You collected your belongings but Wanda stopped you. “ How about asking him out on a date?”

“Steve?” 

“No, Natasha,” Wanda rolled her eyes, referencing Clint’s old lady.

“ Redheads are not my type.”

You and Wanda share a laugh. “ Ask him,” she urged, putting her hand on your shoulder “ The worst thing he can do is say no.”

Then you’ll have to mend your heart back together if he does. 

Gosh, you can't remember a time where you were so anxious about a guy. You weren't shy about sex, but you sure held back when it came to your feelings.

But a girl has got to try.

~~~~~~~~

You were pacing outside of his door. Gosh, you felt like a middle schooler going to ask out her crush. 

It was a simple “Do you want to get dinner together?”  Or “ Let’s have a picnic!” or-

“ Everything okay, pretty?” a deep voice snapped you out of your rehearsal. 

He was shirtless with droplets of water still very much on his abs. You could see his dick print through his gray sweatpants. Gosh, how were you supposed to ask him out when all you wanted to do was jump him?

“ I could hear you pacing through the door.” he grabbed your waist to bring you closer to him. He tickles your neck with his facial hair, your laughter is music to his ears.

“ I came to ask you something,” you said in between giggles. 

“Ask away, pretty,” he said ,starting to kiss your neck. 

This was your ideal situation. You didn't have to look in his eyes. But with every kiss to your neck your panties got wetter. 

Do it , you coward. 

You laced your fingers in his damp hair and forced him to look at you. “ Will you go out with me?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. His mouth broke out in a smile. With how nervous you were , you couldn't tell if that was a happy smile or ‘i’m laughing at you smile’.

“What made you ask me, pretty?”

There were a billion reasons running through your head. A billion explanations. A billion confessions threatening to surface like word vomit. But there were a billion insecurities. A billion potential heartbreaks. 

“ I just thought it would be fun,” you said, massaging his scalp with your finger nails. 

You know he doesn't believe you, the detective twinkle in his eye says so. But he doesn't question you.

“ A date with you sounds perfect, pretty one. But I thought I was supposed to ask you out?” he says pinching your bum.

“ Well you were taking too long,” you tease. 

“ Well my apologies, I hate that I kept my best girl waiting. Where are we going?”

“ I was thinking about Ben's?” you suggested. Ben’s was the club’s favorite place to eat. It was frequent after church, or just on a random Saturday because they felt like it.

“ Oh no, our first date needs to be special,” he argued. “ And we go to Ben’s all the time.”

“ But their burgers are so good.”

He chuckles, “But you deserved wine and dined.”

You stand on your tippy toes and press a gentle kiss on his lips.”  Then we'll just have to go to Casa Rustica.” 

“Then I guess we will.” He cups your face and brings you towards his lips.A rush of warmth floods through you, melting away your lingering doubts.Time seemed to stand still when you kissed him. And with every nibble and bite , it made your core clench over nothing. Whenever you groaned into him, you sent vibrations through him, making his dick twitch.

You finally mustered the strength to pull away from his lips. “ How does tomorrow night sound? Five ? ”

“ Sounds perfect, pretty.”

~~~~~~~~

When he’s five minutes late , it’s because the red lights take forever to turn green. So you think.

When Steve is ten minutes late, it’s because he realized he had two different shoes on. So you think. 

When thirty minutes pass, your heart sinks with the realization you’ve been stood up. It isn't until you take your jewelry that your phone chimes with a text message.

I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting this long, but I can't make it tonight.

You couldn't tell if that was a “something came up” apology or a “ I forgot” excuse. 

It was like he threw a rock at your glass-paned heart. What did you expect from someone who got the milk for free and isn't interested in buying the cow? 

Your dynamic with him was a unique one of its own. Not a lot of club girls get turned into old lady’s . Not that you were expecting that, but you wanted to try with Steve. Have a relationship with him. Be his proper girlfriend.

Lucia always said you would bring yourself more heartache than you deserve. Guess she was right. 

~~~~~~~~

“You were right.” You slumped down next to Lucia at a table outside of your university’s student union. 

She put down her pencil and raised an eyebrow. “ I’m right about a lot of things, you need to be more specific.”

“ I took a risk and asked him out,  but he stood me up.”

Lucia’s face fell a little, “ Babe, I didn't want to be right,” she rubbed your back.

“ Why did I let myself think he was gonna sweep me off my feet and run off into the sunset together” you ask out loud. 

“ I don't think so ma’am,” she wagged her finger like a mother scolding her child, “ He’s the asshole who decided to ditch you. Did he say why?” 

You shook your head, “ I didn't ask”. She gave you a bitch are you kidding me look. “ No one can question the president, Luce. He’s given me protection and a roof over my head and-” 

“ I don't care if he was the president of the United States,” she said sharply, “You deserve an explanation.”  She opened her palm expectantly.

“No,no,no,” you started. Her eyes pierced your soul, demanding that you give up your phone. You tried to resist but ended up pulling your phone from your back pocket and handing it to her. 

She unlocked your phone and began typing. The goosebumps danced on your skin, hoping that she would say anything disrespectful to him. Lucia shows you the message she has yet to send. 

Hey, is everything alright? You ditched me with no notice last night

Granted, she could have typed out a message in a much more disrespectful tone with a plethora of profanities. 

You take the phone and press send. With every passing minute your palms grew sweaty, until your phone chimed and you opened his messages.

Club Business 

Those two words were every motorcycle club president’s favorite words. Two words that no one could question. Two words that answered but did not fulfill any question.

“ He hit me with the 'club business’ , " you told Lucia bitterly.  Which doesn't make sense considering that Bucky, his Vice President, and Sam, his secretary were both at the clubhouse last night. 

“Okay , screw him,” Lucia exclaimed with no care for the heads that turned. “You just need to get under someone new to get over him.”

“But I’m not-”

“Allowed to sleep with anyone outside the club. I know,” Lucia droned, repeating your usual explanation. “ I never mentioned anyone outside the club. You say it yourself, you’re a club girl, not his girl.”

The prospect of sleeping with someone else churned your stomach. You have slept with other members of the club. But he fucked the memory of anyone else touching you out of your system. 

“I don't think I would ever get with a biker. But Sam? He could get it every day of-”

“Okay, Luce, I get it,” you laugh a little. 

What do you get for falling in love with someone who never gave you a second thought unless you weren't in bed with him? 

~~~~~~~~

You were his. Every birthmark and scar. Every curve and crevice. Every perfection and imperfection. Every hope and dream you’ve ever had.

 You were his.

So then why was Thor’s hand on your thigh?

Steve knows canceling on your date thirty minutes after he was supposed to pick you up was less than gentlemanly. But he had a good reason for his absence, one he has yet to disclose. 

You haven't spoken to him in two days . Granted it’s only been two days, but it’s been two nights without you cuddled to his side in his bed..Two mornings where your hair was splayed all over the silk pillow cases he bought just for you. 

And instead of sitting on Steve’s lap like you always do at club parties, you found whatever Thor fucking Odinson was whispering in your ear was so fucking funny. 

It wasnt until Thor stood up and you fucking took his hand that he had seen enough. Steve released his clenched fist and stood up. His racing heart matched every quick thud his heavy boots made on the hardwood floor.

Your gaze flickered to him for a millisecond. Because you know you’re his,too.

~~~~~~~~

In hindsight, it was a good idea. 

You wore the shortest skirt in your closet and a shirt that made your boobs look fantastic. All club girls were expected to attend Friday night parties (which is short for every biker’s excuse to get drunk and get laid after the work week) with the half hearted intention to get under someone to get over Steve. 

You took a seat next to Thor, who was a part of the club but was one of Steve’s friends, and flirted with him like it was a 9 to 5 job. You sat next to him with the intention of letting him take you to bed, but your true intentions evaporated when you fell into genuine conversation with him. 

A genuine conversation with his hand resting on your thigh and him getting so close you can smell his cologne. Yup, super friendly. 

When you took his hand and offered to go to the kitchen for a drink, you saw him in the corner of your eye. Steve stood tall and proud, and he walked to you.

In hindsight, it was a good idea.

It was still a good idea; since Steve had your thighs pressed to chest, his huge dick stretched out your cunt, fucking you into his mattress. You mewled when he pressed an inch closer so your clit brushed against his pelvis. 

“That’s a good fucking girl, taking my cock,” Steve choked out. Your cunt clenched around him at his praise. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his dick kissed your cervix in the best way possible. It was a gift that never hurt, whether that was because you liked the way it felt or he knew your body so well he never hurt you. You dragged your nails down his chest so hard there was definitely going to be red marks. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted out, knowing his high was soon to crash. “ This pussy belongs to me.”

“ Steve, sososo- Fuck!” He thought it was cute whenever you got too cock drunk. Your tits bounces with every thrust inside your cunt. Your left eye was twitching, so he knew you were about to come. Your clit was swollen, just how he liked it.

It was all fucking perfect. You were fucking perfect. 

Steve pinched your nipple which elicited a whine from you. “ Tell me this pussy belongs to me or you can't come.”

You attempted to de-scramble your overstimulated brain with the proper response. “ I- fuck Stevie-”

Frustrated with your disobedience, Steve starts rubbing fast circles in your clit, making your cunt clench involuntarily. “ My pussy belongs to you!,” you moaned “ I need to cum please.”

“ Then cum for me, pretty.”

You released around him in a crescendo, with him following suit. You milked Steve’s cock for all its worth as he pumped your cunt full of his cum with three snaps of his hips. You and Steve laid in silence, allowing yourselves to just feel each other for a few more moments.   

He gently pulled out and got to work with cleaning you up. The way he wipes your messy cunt with a warm towel, how he kissed your thighs and praised you for taking him so good. 

It was all too sweet. But it hardened your resolve nonetheless. Wherever that resolve was.

Steve sat on his bed, downing a glass of his favorite bourbon. As you walked towards him from the bathroom, he appreciated the view of you in one of his Harley Davidson t-shirts.  You don't know if you look into his gorgeous blue eyes and tell your truth.

“Can I ? -”, you and Steve said simultaneously. You ushered for him to continue. He stood up from the bed and took your hand.“ You first, pretty.”

Tell him, you coward, you scolded yourself. “ What am I doing?” you thought out loud.

Steve furrowed his eyebrow in confusion. “ I have feelings for you,” you whispered. “ But it was wishful thinking we could be something more. But it- it wouldn't be real.”

“What do you mean it wouldn't be real?”

“ I’m a club whore, You’re the president,” you said plainly. “We wouldn't have a relationship, we don't have a relationship now! It’s ownership. I belong to the club-”

“ You’re mine,” Steve cut you off sharply.

“It’s the same thing Steve,” you replied solemnly. “ It’s one sided. You- You own me, you control me, I belong to you-”

“ You own me!”  he interrupted. “ You control me, I belong to you. If you want my heart, I'll rip it out of my chest and give it to you. You own every part of me.” Steve brings your hand to his heart so you can feel the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. “ All I can think about is you. All I see is you.”

“You don't mean that,” your eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Have I ever lied to you, pretty?”

“ Then what were you doing the night we were supposed to go out? Got cold feet?”

Steve drops your hand and goes to his closet. He shuffles around and grabs something black. Steve holds it out for you to see: A black leather jacket in your size, with the back embroidered with the Howling Commandos insignia with the words Property of Rogers around the symbol.

“The tailor needed a second opinion on the size. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect,” he explained. 

“Is it for me?,” you asked.

“All yours, pretty. Try it on for me,” he commanded softly.

It was a snug fit. A perfect fit. “ What does this mean for us, Steve?”

He cups your cheeks, “ It means that you’re mine and I’m yours. You’re my old lady and I’m your man.”

“Club girl to old lady is kind of a big jump though,” you snided.

“ One day at a time, pretty. A day at a time.”

You closed the gap between you and Steve with a soft kiss. His lips molded perfectly against yours. Maybe it was all a dream and the cruel reality would wake you up. But it was no dream. Steve was real. He tasted like he was yours.

“ You’re mine,” Steve stated. 

“ I’m yours. Are you mine?”

“ With all my heart and song that belongs to you, pretty.”

A/N: I made a Scandal reference, iykyk

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: This might a 2 or 3 parter. College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that troupe and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing I think, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Derogatory use of the word puck bunny. Bucky is a playboy. There is not interaction be MC and Bucky quite yet.

Word Court: 1935

Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned as you threw your head back against the worn couch. 

“I want the project to focus on movement, but lifelike movement. Human movement.” You mocked your professor. It not being nature themed had to be a jab just for you. All your projects were nature related or still motion. 

“Professor Grace wasn’t targeting you,” Wanda said, letting out a chuckle at your dramatics. 

“Are you sure you’re not a drama major?” Pietro laughed as he threw a butter packet at you. 

“You two are the worst,” you sighed as you threw your arm over your eyes. Twins, why did my best friends have to be twins. The world is cruel, your thoughts drift.

“Why don’t you come to the track and draw me?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response.  

“Eh,” you sighed. You didn’t want a solution at the moment. You just wanted to complain. 

“She just wants to vent guys,” Natasha said as she came through the door holding a couple bags of takeout and a box of wine. “And I doubt she wants to see you and the rest of the track team in those tiny little running shorts you call clothing,” she sassed at Pietro. He just laughed, and stuck a pose with his leg up on the bar stool next to the island counter causing you all to laugh with him. 

“Thank you,” you exclaimed as she handed you your food. You threw a 10 at her and settled back down into the couch. 

“You know, you could come by the rink and draw a couple of the guys,” Nat mentioned. Her long term boyfriend was on the hockey team, Clint, a sharpshooting winger nicknamed Hawkeye. 

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “I’m not going to have them think I’m one of those, puck kitties, or whatever they’re called.” 

“Puck bunny,” Wanda chimed in, you pointed your chopstick at her and smiled. 

Natasha let out a loud laugh, one of those full bodied ones, “god they won’t think that.” You raised your eyebrow at her and gave her an incredulous look. 

“I can’t have them showing off because I’m there. I need to get them in their element. Not focused on what I’m doing,” you groaned again. “Biggest issue is I will need permission from the person or people. So they’ll have to know.” 

“Like I said Princessa, draw me. You have my permission,” Pietro winked, you rolled your eyes at him. 

“You’re too obvious of a choice. And as much as Wanda insists that Professor Grace doesn’t have a personal vendetta against me, she’ll love pointing out I picked the safe option,” you whined. 

“Wanda, you haven’t seen Grace in class. She will take any chance to criticize her pieces. Nitpicking to the extreme.” Natasha chimed in, “if it wasn’t for Dr. Rain I think our resident artist would've failed out of this course by now.” Dr. Rain was the head of the art department and after a wholly undergraded piece you submitted last semester Prof. Grace was on thin ice. So she graded you fairly but took every chance to tear you apart in front of the class. 

“I’ll think about the hockey team. It would be the least expected from me anyway,” you signed and got up from the couch taking everyone’s garbage and throwing it out. Football season was over, but the hockey season was in full swing right now and our team was top of the league. 

“They have practice tomorrow night, you should come by and look at it,” Nat said, giving you a knowing look. 

~The Next Day~

That's how you ended up in the rink. Underdressed because you didn’t realize how cold an ice rink would be in the stands. You were right though, about the type of girls that hung out there, they were scantily dressed and leaning over the tunnel that the players exited and entered from. How they weren’t frozen baffled you. 

Nat was sitting reading a chemistry book across from you near the bench, as you didn’t want the team knowing you knew her. Well everyone but Clint. You’ve hung out quite a few times over the past couple years. You took a seat a few rows up opposite the bench near what Nat called the Sin bin (penalty box.) It gave an excellent undisrupted view of the rink and the players as they practiced. 

The sounds of skates gliding over fresh ice and sticks bouncing off it was an almost soothing sound. The puck skittered across the ice as it was passed between teammates and shot toward the empty net. The goalie, a guy named Quill, was performing some kind of ritual at the opposite end of the rink. Nat mentioned he was a bit of an odd duck. But according to her all goalies were odd in their own ways. 

The movement was fluid and easy to follow. How these giant men moved so weightlessly across the ice left you in awe. The Captain of the team was a blonde center named Steve Rogers, better known as Cap. Most of the school knew him, he was in a few of your art classes over the semesters. His girlfriend Peggy, was the student union president. 

The star of the team was his blurry best friend James “Bucky” Barnes. He was a “winger,” with good prospects for the NHL according to Nat as she gave you a lowdown of the team as you guys went there just after practice started. He was nicknamed the White Wolf. How a man of his size moved that easily was mesmerizing, he almost floated over the ice and it looked like he was dancing. He was sinfully handsome as well. Every other week he had a new girl hanging off his arm. Undoubtedly one of those puck bunnies as they were called. He was the talk of the school after the football season concluded. 

It made you dislike him on principle. The sports were definitely more priority in the school and the art department lacked thanks to these overgrown toddlers on skates. But you couldn’t deny his natural handsomeness, he looked effortlessly handsome and it was almost unfair. 

You looked down at your sketch pad that you had been absently scratching at. Bucky seemed to be your muse because you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly skated around the rink. You were in danger and you knew it. You gulped and closed the book before quickly gathering your things and leaving. 

It didn’t take Nat long to text you and ask where you went. You sent her a quick message back saying you were cold. Not that Bucky, the school's playboy, had quickly become the muse of your piece. 

“Nat, I thought you said your friend was coming by,” Clint asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“She did, she left because she was cold,” Nat chuckled. 

“Anyone know the pretty one watching by the sin bin?” She overheard Wilson ask. “And what she was doing?” 

“I think I was in a couple art classes with her,” Steve mentioned missing your name. 

“I won’t complain if she comes by again,” Barnes said. Wilson raised a brow at him. 

“What, so you can break her heart well?” 

“Look doll, it’s not you,” 

“It’s me.” Wilson and Stark said together. Barnes shot both men a glare. Then the high pitched whine of Barnes newest fling squealed his name and that was Clint and Nat’s queue to hightail it out of there. The collective groans from the rest of the team matched her thoughts. 

~A couple days later~

“Loki, I don’t know what I’m going to do, this project is worth too much for me to go safe,” you sighed as you laid your head on his lap. He was reading some classic novel for his English class in the student commons. His fingers nimbly moved through your hair as he held the book in the other hand. 

“Darling, just go back to the ice rink,” he knew almost immediately when something was up when you were walking together a couple days later. The perspective bastard. Loki was your best friend since middle school, his brother Thor was the star quarterback for the football team in both high school and here. 

“Why would I do that,” you pouted. 

“Because you clearly want to draw this man, and it will ruin you for months just like that piece you did of Helena,” he said shortly. Helena or Hela was his big sister and she was absolutely stunning. You had pined over drawing her for a piece for months before Loki forced you to ask her. It fixed everything and life back to normal after you painted the piece. 

“I hate when you do that,” you whined, his eyes flicking down to your face. 

“Hate what darling,” he mused. 

“That, being reasonable and knowing what I need before I admit what I need to do.” He laughed and ruffled your hair affectionately. 

“Comes with years of experience,” he sighed and placed his book down next to his leg. “Do bundle up this time will you,” he called as you walked away, you quickly flipped him the bird as you rounded the corner. 

And there you were back at the rink again. Although tonight was a game night and the rink was packed. “20 dollars,” a nasally boy said as he pushed his glasses up, he looked bored out of his mind. 

“Pardon?” You asked, looking at him. 

“It’s 20 dollars to get in the game,” he said in an annoyed tone. 

“Oh, I’m a student,” you showed your ID card, he rolled his eyes, “5 dollars.” You nodded and placed the five down. Only partners of the team got in free. Perk of fucking one of the team members you guessed, that must have outweighed the fear of them cheating or getting bored. You knew that wasn’t fair. At least two of the guys were in committed relationships and one was in an on again off again relationship. The rest though you weren’t sure, you shock your head at the thought. 

You caught the flaming red hair of Nat in her reserved seat next to the bench, Peggy was next to her. There were a few open seats at the top of the rink, not great from getting a good view of what you needed to draw. But it would have to do. Instantly your eyes were drawn to Barnes, number 17, flying up the ice leaving the opposing team in the dust, snow? With a quick flick of his wrist the puck was shot sideways and Barton scored. The crowd stood and cheered loudly. You wished you had ear plugs now. The buzzer was insanely loud and made your ears ring. How Nat enjoyed this you’d never understand. Barton. You thought, Nat wasn’t big on sports, but she was big on her sweet boyfriend. 

You focused on Barnes as he showboated around the rink, celebrating his assist. He moved so fluidly, you were mesmerized. You drew many little pieces focusing on the movement trying to capture the effortlessness of him skating. You were startled from your drawing when the buzzer screeched again the crowd roared in applause. The team scored again and it seemed to be Barnes that scored this time. Hats flew onto the ice as he skated around. That was odd, you squinted at the action. His eyes caught yours for a split second as he rushed past and it felt like eternity. 

Read Chapter 2 here

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more <3

[late-to-the-party-81]

The best laid plans

AN: It’s so fluffy!!!! This is my first fill for this year’s ‘Into an alternate Juni-verse” and when I got Surgeon AU on my card I knew I had to revisit this pairing from last year's event…You don’t need to read it to understand this fic, but it will give you more context.

A big thanks to @metalbvcky for spitballing and cheerleading

Beta’d by the wonderful @drabbles-mc

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - 

@stuckybingo G3: Migraines

@steverogersbingo D2: Monica Rambeau

Build a Bucky Bingo by @buckybarnesevents: Feb: Forehead kisses

Into an Alternate Juni-verse by @buckybarnesevents : AU: Surgeon

@caplanbuckybarnes Weekly Writing Challenge Week 1; “Holding you like this is where I’m happiest.”

Master list | Alternate Juni-verse Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list | BaBB Master List

Summary: With Steve’s hectic work schedule, their relationship was never going to be plain-sailing, but they have an uninterrupted 48 hours coming up. Surely nothing will go wrong?

Relationship: Small Doctor Steve Rogers x Bookstore Owner Bucky Barnes

Word count: 3.8k

CW: Modern AU, Fluff, Insinuation of spicy time, Bucky and Nat friendship, Teasing, descriptions of migraine, caring Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, suggestive and happy ending, implied bottom Bucky.

Steve was well aware of how his life was currently a study in contrasts. On the one hand there was the hustle and bustle and bright lights of the hospital and on the other, the cosy warmth of the bookshop where Bucky worked and Steve spent a lot of his off hours. There was the inherent stress involved in working in the ER, with the requirement he always be ‘switched on’, but then there was the gentle pace that life with Bucky forced him into.

Bucky.

He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed since those two chance encounters nine months ago, one in a bar and the other right here in the ER.

Steve hadn’t been looking for anything, heart still raw from a break-up that had seen him upsticks and relocate from Los Angeles to New York, but something about Bucky had gotten under his guard. After their unexpected reunion in the hospital following a very memorable one-night stand, Steve had known there was no way he could go on without the young bookstore owner in his life.

They were taking it one step at a time though. Steve’s job was obviously full-on, especially so as he’d decided to continue working towards becoming a surgeon, something he’d done most of the work for out in California. Between his ER shifts, and the work for his qualification, both practical and theoretical, they sometimes went days without seeing each other and Steve didn’t want to force Bucky into something he wasn’t able to cope with - there was a reason why a large number of people in the medical field struggled to maintain relationships.

Therefore he maintained his apartment, and Bucky still had his own over his shop. Admittedly that warm, lived-in space, as small and covered in white cat fur as it was, felt more like home to Steve than his larger, pristine loft that still looked like something out of a brochure. Also, Bucky’s place was a lot closer to the hospital than his. It made sense, really, to spend most of his time there. He kept thinking about ‘taking the next step’, but something was stopping him.

Steve let out a sigh. He hadn’t seen Bucky in a full 48 hours now, and there was still another six to go until he could leave.

Today was an observation day, where Steve would be watching his mentor while she performed a heart by-pass and she would ask him questions as she did so. He was excited for it, but even that couldn’t dull the ache within him which he knew would only be soothed by a Bucky-hug ™.

He watched Doctor Rambeau - Monica - scrub up, dexterously turning off the tap with her elbow, and then waited for her to move out of the space so he could do the same. He might not be performing the operation, but he still had to follow all the protocols. He knew what an honour this was, having her as his mentor. She was one of the best in her field, and under her tutelage he knew he would be able to make a difference to so many people. With his own history of health issues, he knew what it was like to have his life saved and was ready to pay it forwards. 

“You ready, Doctor Rogers?” He turned to see one perfectly shaped eyebrow rise at him from behind an eye-shield.

“Absolutely. Lead on, Doctor Rambeau.” He knew his smile was hidden behind his mask, but hopefully she would hear it in his voice and see it in the crinkles around his eyes. He suspected not much got past her. The junior doctors were always making remarks about how Doctor Rambeau could see things that other mere mortals couldn’t.

“Soooo,” Nat drawled out and Bucky got ready for another round of being teased. “You’re seeing him tonight?”

“Yes,” replied Bucky. “He’s coming over after his observation shift and then he’s off for the next two days. Don’t expect to see much of me outside of work hours.” He waggled his eyebrows at his best friend and grinned as she rolled her eyes in return.

“Don’t I know it. If it wasn’t for his shifts I doubt I’d see you at all.” Despite her words, Bucky could hear the joking affection in her voice. However, what was the point in being best friends if you didn’t wind each other up at every available opportunity?

“You’re one to talk? How are you and Doctor Wilson going? I know he knows his way around….” Bucky’s dig at Sam’s field of specialisation was cut off by Nat placing her finger over his lips.

“Shush, you. We’re going just fine. Keeping it casual. He’s busy. I’m busy. Who wants to put labels on things?”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “Whatever you say, Natty-Nat-Nat. I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and then grabbed another armful of books to reshelve. “So apart from fucking, what have you got planned?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not a lot. Depends on how wiped out he is. Dinner tonight - I’m making lasagne - and a film. Probably far too much wine. Tomorrow? Maybe the Brooklyn Museum, and lunch. I know he wants me to test him on some theory, so I need to limber up my tongue so I can say complicated words I don’t understand.”

“Please don’t tell me how you’re going to limber it up,” Nat said with a snort, and Bucky squashed down the urge to throw a book at her. He knew from his own painful experience what it felt like to have a hardback, or several, bounce off his face. The only upside of that situation had been that he’d seen Steve again and gotten his number, even if it had been mortifying at the time.

“Things are still going well, then?” Nat questioned more softly.

“Absolutely.” Bucky let out a sigh as he thought about his diminutive blond boyfriend. Even before their eyes had met across the bar he’d been intrigued. There had been something in Steve’s movements, the way his fingers had held - near caressed - his beer bottle, that had filled Bucky with want.

That feeling hadn’t waned over the past months, and while he inevitably got frustrated when Steve’s shifts kept them apart, he also had an inkling that the periods of separation were also what had kept them in the ‘honeymoon’ phase so long. It heightened the anticipation, and when they did get to spend time together? Well it was a good thing that Bucky had no neighbours and Steve’s apartment had thick walls.

Bucky had always had voracious… appetites… but had been more than pleasantly surprised when Steve proved that he could, most of the time at least, keep up with him. He also hadn’t thought that such an outwardly respectable doctor could be so kinky, but….

“Earth to Barnes!” Nat snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Stop thinking about Steve’s dick on work time.” 

He pouted at her. “Spoilsport. And anyway, it wasn’t his dick I was thinking about, it was his fing–”

Nat threw her hands up over her ears. “LA-LA-LA,” she shouted before walking back towards the front desk and the customers who had just walked through the door. Bucky giggled and continued to restack books while indulging in his daydreams.

Steve slowly pushed the surgical gown down his arms with a sigh and winced at the bright lights in the scrub room. He hadn’t even been doing any of the heavy lifting during that op, but he still felt absolutely wrung out. However, it had been the most wonderful experience, getting to see Monica performing the by-pass so assuredly and asking her questions as she did so. He was also proud of the fact that he’d been able to answer her questions too, although those had been more inquisitorial than plain curious like his. But it was the end of his shift now - more or less on time too, for a change - and he couldn’t wait to get to Bucky’s apartment and relax in the arms of his boyfriend for two whole days.

He washed up and said good-bye to Monica and the rest of the surgical team and headed towards the staff room and the locker containing his street clothes, keys, and wallet - he hadn’t spent this much time in scrubs since medical school. As he made his way along the white walled corridors, the sounds of a hospital at work swirled around him - the beeping of machines, pained cries of the young and old, the urgent, hushed conversations of other medical professionals, the weeping of family members and loved ones. He liked to think that he was partially immune to these noises - they were the soundtrack to his daily life after all, but for some reason, they felt rawer than usual, scraping across his bones like nails down a chalkboard, and Steve couldn’t hold back an involuntary shudder. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling appeared to be taunting him too, their beams piercing his eyeballs and the almost inaudible humming making his teeth itch.

“Bucky,” he muttered to himself. “I just need to get home to Bucky, then I’ll feel better.”

When Steve finally made his way outside the sky was dark, but the streets were lit up with street lamps and car headlights. Each shaft of light felt like a needle sliding into his brain via his temples and he took a deep breath in through his nose to stave off a wave of dizziness. 

There was a light drizzle in the air, making it blessedly cool, and despite the damp Steve decided to walk to Bucky’s apartment instead of schlepping it on the much dryer, but ultimately more cramped and warm, subway. It took him longer than anticipated though, his shoes feeling like lead weights upon his feet, getting heavier and heavier with every step.

Finally, he reached the bookstore, the interior shrouded in darkness, but with lights shining from the windows above. Steve walked, half staggered, down the alley at the side and let himself in through the door that would lead him up the stairs and to Bucky. He was glad that Bucky had given him a key a few months back, otherwise he would have had to wait in the rain while Bucky came downstairs to let him in. That had happened enough times at the beginning that Steve was now very much over that part of their relationship. Having keys felt good. What didn’t feel good though were his sodden socks, or his throbbing eyeballs.

He trudged up the stairs, each step harder than the last, until he reached the top and all but fell through the interior door. Bucky must have heard him because Steve’s name was called out joyfully, a sound that normally made his heart leap in his chest, but in this moment, all he could do was let out a pained whimper as Bucky’s voice cut through his brain like a chainsaw.

He heard Bucky’s footsteps get closer and he squinted against the brightness of the room.

“Hey, Stevie!”

Bucky pulled him into a rough hug, squishing Steve’s face against the ubiquitous black t-shirt he always seemed to wear on days he was working. The smell of Bucky’s cologne, normally one of his favourite scents, assailed his nose, combining with the smell of garlic that permeated the apartment and Steve felt his stomach roll.

“Buck… please,” he slurred as he uncharacteristically pushed himself away from his boyfriend’s embrace. Everything around him just felt like too much and he felt himself tip backwards against the wall.

“Oh, Steve. You don’t look too hot.” Bucky’s voice was full of concern, and Steve was sure that if he could manage to focus properly, he’d be able to see Bucky’s dark brows pulled together in a frown. 

“Jeez, thanks,” he managed to push out with a small upturn to his lips. “Just what I wanted to hear after not seeing you for two days.” He closed his eyes, intending to do so for just a moment, and felt the ringing pain in his head lessen minutely.

Bucky’s body brushed against him as his holdall was taken from him by gentle hands and his coat was slipped from his shoulders.

“Is it a migraine?” Bucky had modulated his voice to a whisper and Steve decided that he hadn’t ever been so glad for anything in his life.

Eyes still closed, he nodded and let out a noise of confirmation from his lips. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed then. I’m prescribing Advil, earplugs, an eye-mask and an early night.”

Steve snorted and instantly regretted it. “I thought I was the doctor here?” he quipped, his voice low and gravelly.

“You are,” Bucky replied, his lips brushing Steve’s temple. “But I’m the boyfriend, so what I say, goes.”

“Is that so?” Steve queried, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Very much so,” Bucky confirmed. “Now you keep your eyes closed if you want, I’ll guide you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but still kept his lids closed. He had a feeling it was the only reason he wasn’t throwing up right now.

“Such a mother hen,” he chastised without any real bite and allowed Bucky to steer him, arms looped together, through the small apartment. A soft bump against his ankle let him know that Alpine was now part of the proceedings.

“It’s why you love me. Right, you just sit down here…” Steve felt his shoulders clasped by Bucky’s hands and he sat down, completely trusting that he wouldn’t fall on his ass. “Can you manage to get undressed while I go find the pills?”

Steve cracked one eye open. “Sure. I love you, you know that?” Bucky shot him a soft smile, pressed another kiss to his forehead and then went through to the small bathroom, rattling around inside the cupboards.

Steve kicked off his shoes, glad he had on loafers that came off easily, and struggled out of his shirt. It felt like an octopus trying to envelope and suffocate him. He flopped down onto the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling the bile begin to rise in his throat. Not only did this suck, big time, but he also felt so guilty, a feeling he vocalised when he felt the bed dip on Bucky’s return.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know that this wasn’t what we had planned. What were you making for dinner?” He felt Bucky’s hands on the waistband of his slacks, deftly pulling them from his body in the most un-lust-filled, and therefore strangest, way possible.

“Lasagne, but it will keep until tomorrow. And you don’t need to apologise. These things happen and you have been working really hard. I’m actually surprised you didn’t have one of these sooner.”

Steve shuffled under the coverlet, letting out a sigh at the coolness of the sheets against his skin. Bucky pressed two tablets into his hand, and he propped himself upon his other elbow so he could pop them in his mouth, swallowing them down with a drink from the glass of water Bucky proffered him.

“I’ll make it up to you, Buck. I promise.”

“I know you will, you lug. But for now here’s the eye mask.” Soft satin was placed over his head, settling over his eyes and helping to black out the last of the light making it through his eyelids. “And here are the ear plugs.” Bucky dropped them into Steve’s palm and curled his fingers shut over them. “Now don’t worry about me,” he placated. “I have a whole garlic bread and a salad to make my way through, plus a date at Stars Hollow with Lorelai. I’ll be fine. We’ll pick this up tomorrow if you’re feeling better, and if you’re not I’ll just pump you full of drugs until you are.”

Steve smiled into the darkness. “You know that’s not how that works?”

Bucky placed his finger over Steve’s lips. “Ssh, sexy Doctor Boyfriend has spoken. Sleep now.” He moved his finger and replaced it with his lips, kissing Steve softly.

“Sir, yes Sir,” Steve replied, bringing his hand up in salute.

“Punk. Sleep well. I’ll come cuddle you later.”

“I will, jerk. And thank you.”

He heard Bucky mumble under his breath and then pad across the room before he pushed the earplugs into his ears, cocooning himself in silence to go along with the darkness, and snuggled down into the sheets to pass out.

Bucky closed the bedroom door with a soft ‘click’ and padded back through to the living room, trying to quell the disappointment. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Migraines happened, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said it was a surprise that Steve hadn’t had one already - he really had been pushing himself to the limit. But, Bucky supposed, that was one of the things that made him love Steve. His tenaciousness, bordering on stubbornness, was endearing, and was probably one of the main reasons they were still together. He wasn’t going to lie - those early days had been tough, but Steve had found every spare moment he could and made it available to Bucky, whether that was hanging out at the bookshop during the day in the middle of a split shift, or rolling into the apartment just to curl up beside him in bed for the eight hours between the end of a late shift and the start of an early one. There were the surprise DoorDash deliveries when a shift had run over and dinner plans had had to be cancelled and Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t have anything in. There were the long nights of loving and the frantic, heated quickies and everything in between. And he couldn’t be prouder of what Steve was achieving right now. Once he’d passed his surgeon’s qualification things should get better for them - less double shifts, although probably more that would run over. Swings and roundabouts he supposed.

Crossing to the small kitchenette, Bucky pulled out the lasagne, watching the cheese and white sauce bubble on the top as he placed it on a trivet to cool. He was glad he’d cooked something that wouldn’t spoil from not being eaten right now. He then picked up the bowl of salad, and the garlic bread that had been keeping warm in the toaster oven, and meandered over to the couch. As he ate and watched the residents of Star Hollow navigate complex family relationships, Bucky realised that even though he was in this room and Steve was asleep in the bedroom, he didn’t feel alone. He could feel Steve’s presence in his home and it just felt so right.

A couple of hours later he snuck quietly into the bedroom, the only sound the soft snores emanating from Steve’s mouth. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom, careful to only turn the light on after he’d entered and turn it off before he exited, and then tip-toed over to the bed with only the light from the street outside to illuminate his way.  He slipped in behind Steve and gently tugged him into a hug. Steve mumbled in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

Bucky reached up to lightly stroke over the top of Steve’s head and pressed a kiss to his bony shoulder blade.

“I love you, Stevie,” he whispered. “Holding you like this is where I’m happiest.”

Maybe tomorrow would be the day he took a leap of faith and asked Steve to move in with him?

When Steve woke he felt entirely disorientated. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before, and when he pulled out the earplugs and lifted the eye-mask he was happy to note that the stabbing pain in his head had reduced to a dull throb. He blinked a few times to get the sleep from his eyes and then focused on the clock next to the bed. 

12:37pm

He’d been asleep for almost eighteen hours!

The bed beside him was cold, indicating that even his slug-abed boyfriend had gotten bored with sleeping at some point and decided to get up. He had vague recollections of being pulled against Bucky’s front in the night, but that was it. He frowned to himself - he’d gone far too long without consciously touching him, something that he needed to rectify immediately.

He pushed himself upright, and took a long drink from the water glass next to the clock. He still remembered the first time he’d woken up in this bed, in the middle of the night and getting ready to make a hasty exit after an alcohol fueled hook-up. Now he didn’t think there was anywhere he’d rather be than right here. 

From the end of the bed, Alpine lifted her head and narrowly opened her eyes, obviously not happy to be disturbed from her slumber. Steve reached out and scratched her under her chin in apology.

When he stood, it was on slightly wobbly legs, and he took a moment to grab a pair of sweats from Bucky’s drawer, taking care to pull the drawstring tight and roll the waistband over. Steve then walked quietly through to the living room, stopping to lean on the back of the sofa as he watched an oblivious Bucky, also only in sweats, singing along to the radio, a spatula in hand acting like a microphone, as he made a grilled cheese sandwich. It was the cutest thing Steve thought he’d ever seen and it just made him want Bucky more.

Steve padded closer, and when he reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky jumped with a shriek.

“Jeez, Steve. You scared me.”

Steve grinned at him and looped his arms around Bucky’s waist, drawing him closer and nuzzling at his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby. Maybe I can make it up to you?”

Bucky let out an amused chuckle. “So you owe me twice, that’s what I’m hearing. You feeling better then?”

Steve fastened his mouth to Bucky’s throat and gave it a suck, creating a dark pink patch on Bucky’s already flushed skin. “Absolutely. Although I can think of something else that will make me feel even better.”

“I bet you can,” replied Bucky with another giggle. “Do I have enough time to eat my grilled cheese, or…” he trailed off as Steve pushed his hand under Bucky’s waistband. “Oh! L-let me just turn this off…” Steve smiled into Bucky’s skin as he leant across to turn the stove dial and move his pan onto a cold ring. “Okay - you were saying?”

God, how Steve loved this man. The hand he had down Bucky’s sweats and shorts moved - encompassed -  and Steve watched as Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks, and how his mouth dropped open into an “O” shape. First he was going to do what he hadn’t been able to last night and then he was definitely going to ask Bucky if they could move in together.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[nekoannie-chan]

Week 26 Reblog Masterlist

Welcome to Week 26 2024 or Week 234, as always, fics will be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my June reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 25 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 27 2024 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 26 2024:

Old Soul - The First Avenger (Steve Rogers) by @l0velyrand0m 💚💙

Go frolicking in a field of flowers (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @witchywithwhiskey ❤️

What could have been(Steve Rogers X Reader) by @jbbarnesandnoble 💙

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly 💙💚

Right Here, Right Now (Stucky) by @drabbles-mc ❤️

Shared desires (Steve Rogers X Reader, Bucky Barnes X Reader) by @veltana ❤️

Pursuit (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @fluffyprettykitty 💙

The assistant part 10 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @holylulusworld 💙

Home sweet home chapter 6 (Brock Rumlow X OFC) by @talia-rumlow ❤️

Broken Hearts part 11 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sosa2imagines 💙

Again (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckymorelikefuckme ❤️

Dragonfly part 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @thezombieprostitute 💙

Broken Hearts part 12 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sosa2imagines 💙

The Pantry Affairs (Stucky X Reader) by @mercurial-chuckles 💚

Gymnastics (Matt Murdock X Reader X Elektra Natchios) by @fluffyprettykitty ❤️

Beat the Heat (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @e-dubbc11 💚

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ussgallifrey 💚

Broken Hearts part 13 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sosa2imagines 💙

You Won’t Get Time, part 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader, Bucky Barnes X Reader) by @georgiapeach30513 ❤️

LEGACY ~ 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @just-dreaming-marvel 💚

Oh captain! my captain! (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @stuckyslut8 ❤️

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ussgallifrey 💚

You Won’t Get Time, part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader, Johnny Storm X Reader) by @georgiapeach30513 ❤️

LEGACY ~ 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @just-dreaming-marvel 💚

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

the mcu needs to know that they can introduce newer female characters (she-hulk, ms marvel, cassie lang, kate bishop etc) without having to kill off the long existing ones (aunt may, Jane Foster, Queen Ramonda). Like wtf is going with killing off significant female characters like this? 

“but they wanted to leave the mc-” well the actresses who played gamora and pepper potts choose to leave Marvel and their characters weren’t killed off for shock value. Not every departure has to have their characters being killed off (permanently). Like why couldn’t they get the Steve Rogers treatment in endgame and let them retire or disappear?

edit: I forgot to include that yes, sacred timeline!Gamora got killed off for shock value while an alternated version of her survived but is less developed. WIth Zoe officially moving on from the MCU, we’ll sadly never get to see alt!Gamora again, and there will be no more opportunities of alt!Gamora being fleshed out 

all in all, the mcu should not be afraid to have too many female characters, like there’s room for all of them

[buckets-and-trees]

I read a lot of incredible fics in 2023, but these were the ones that blew me away beyond anything:

ASPEN'S FAVORITE READS 2023

Ted Lasso x Reader

Victory Lap by @ozarkthedog

Max Burnett x Reader x Nick Fowler

The Truth Will Set You Free and Reluctant by @navybrat817/Navy

Andy Barber & Ari Levinson & Ransom Drysdale & Nick Fowler & Steve Kemp x Female Reader

Giving Your Body and Soul to the Warlocks by @witchywithwhiskey

Nick Fowler x Reader

Home is a Heavy Heart by @sunshinebuckybarnes Partners in Crime by Navy Anew by Elsie Taking Care by @nickfowlerrr Clockwork AU by @sgt-seabass (plus many other characters) Sweet and Stained by @biteofcherry/Eva See Through You by Navy

Ari Levinson x Reader

Sweet Thrill by Navy Good With All Three by @blackleatherjacketz Down Again by Navy In a Field of Wildflowers with Ari by Eva Bartender FWB Ari series by @ghotifishreads +can we keep moving in the after hours? +domestic husband+Jukebox Jonesing+horny Monday to pining+make outs and more Yours to Have by Eva

M'Baku x Reader

From On High @boxofbonesfic

Curtis Everett x Reader

Sacred Hunt by Navy Branded by @stargazingfangirl18 Fulfilled by @stargazingfangirl18 The Fabric of Your Flesh by @ghotifishreads

Natasha Romanov x Bucky Barnes

Over and Over and Over Again by @drabbles-mc

Steve Rogers x Reader

Heat Inducing by Navy Make the Dust Fly by Eva A Deal with the Devil Comes with Wicked Strings by Molly Touch the Darkness by Eva A Shelter in the Storm by Molly Captain America's Sweetheart by @vonalyn And All Was Lost by Molly

Stucky

Timeless Desires by @smutconnoisseur

Stucky x Reader

A Monster, A Captain, and A Soldier by Molly

Bucky Barnes x Reader

To the Rescue by @ghostofskywalker Shatter by Navy Hot Girl Shit by @awake-dearheart You Don't Own Me by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky Send Me an Angel by Navy Tired Eyes by @lovelybarnes Bring Your Wife to Work Day by Elsie My Queen by @adrinktostopyourthirst Single Mom Reader by @buckyalpine Two Sides of the Same Coin by Navy Alcohol You Later by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky Hellfire, Take My Soul by @rookthorne A Tide of War and Broken Dreams by @sgt-seabass Metal Arm Kink by @adrinktostopyourthirst Lachrymose by @rookthorne Soft/Emotive Sex with Bucky by @adrinktostopyourthirst Warrior/Worrier by @delaber The Pineapple Contract by @buckyismybicycle Bucky with a virgin reader by Eva You Belong to Me, I Belong to You series by Molly drabble by @vonalyn Rooted in Love by @jobean12-blog Love in Bloom by Jo That's the Way Love Goes by Jo Unbound by You by @vonalyn Codename: Lazarus series by @sagechanoafterdark Halloween is the Perfect Time for Tricks–and Treats by Molly Missing You by @nickfowlerrr

[andydrysdalerogers]

To The Limit - Five

F1 Racer Johnny Storm x OFC Maya Levinson

Summary: He's been away from the sport for 2 years. He has 24 races to prove he belongs here. There are two things that could derail this: his family and her.

She's the one thing he is willing to push to the limit for.

This a sequel to my original story, "Following Team Orders" If you want to get caught up in my Formula One world, you can find it HERE

The tag list is open!

Future Warnings: references to a partner's death, cheating (but not by the MCs,) alcohol consumption, SMUT!, angst, racing incidents, language, grief, etc.

Moon Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Car divider and Banners by me!

Previous Chapter: Three

Story Master List // Main Master List

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Two Years Ago 

Johnny 

I closed the door to my suite and ran a hand through my hair.  Ferrari was “kind” enough to allow me to stay here and booked me a flight home since the news of my firing was being withheld until after the holidays.  Nick said something about the sponsor or whatever.  Frankly, I tuned him out after he told me I wasn’t being re-signed.  

But now I face Molly.  We had one night together a couple of months ago and she’s now pacing back and forth.  I took her in as I waited for her to speak. She was a beauty. Chestnut hair that fell to the middle of her back, dark blue eyes and a body that could make any man fall to his knees.  I was willing to spend several nights with her, but she disappeared the morning after.  I asked Liv what happened, and she had no idea.  

“Johnny, I’m really sorry for ghosting you like that.” Molly is ringing her hands over and over.  “I just... I’ve never done that before and...” 

I take her hands in mine.  “Hey, hey, hey, breathe Molly. Take a deep breath.” She inhales. “Slowly let it out.” She follows my directions, but I can still feel her trembling in my hands. “What’s going on?” 

A single tear falls down her cheek.  

“Johnny, I’m pregnant.”  

Present 

When you are a cocky bastard like I was, you don’t make a lot of friends. I had Charles but that was about it. At least, until Olivia.  

Olivia Williams, now Rogers, was a force of nature.  She is the sixth woman to compete in Formula One and the only female champion.  When she came here, every red-blooded man thought the same thing: I want to bang her.  And trust me, I took my shot, but she very nicely put me down.  The day we became friends was one of her worst days.  I didn’t take advantage, though lord knows I would have but she was my fellow driver, my co-worker, my sister at arms.  She needed me to be her brother in that moment and I was.  

We talked more after that.  Hung out and got to know each other. I knew about her assumed unrequited love with her racing partner, Steve. I knew about how she had thrown herself into dating his best friend, Bucky. She was lost but I tried to be her anchor in the storm.  She was under a lot of pressure and Rogers did not make that easier.  

I was happy for them, truly, when they both got their heads out of their asses and finally got together. And I was able to make friends with Steve and Bucky. Besides Charles, I am closest to Liv and that’s how I find myself at their house in London a week before Australia. I sipped my coffee as my son bounced on Steve’s knee and he “baby talked” with him, blowing raspberries on his little round belly.  

Ever seen a six-foot, two-time champion talk baby talk with a 15-month-old? It so disgustingly cute. 

“Practicing?” I comment to him as Mattie giggles from the raspberries on his belly. Mattie babbles a little, almost ready to talk.  

“Absolutely.” Steve is beaming and that’s rare for a man I know to be serious 90% of the time.  He’s only ever chill when it comes to Olivia except when he’s in protective mode.  

Liv comes in with a plate of cookies and a bottle for Mattie. “Can I feed him?” she asks. I nod and she takes my son into her arms.  “Here we go, Mattie, some milky to help you sleepy,” she coos. The little shit always bats his lashes at a pretty girl, especially Liv.  

“I would say something about having your boy backing off my woman but he’s just too damn cute,” Steve says as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Thank god he takes after his mother.”  

“Flick off Roger,” I reply, grabbing a cookie.  

“Flick? Really?” 

"I’m trying not to swear in front of my kid. He’s so close to talking and the last thing I need is his first word to be a swear. Molly would have my ass.” I stop as I realize what I said. I swallow and try not to let the mood go down.  

Steve changes his temperament quickly. “Hey, sorry, guess it something I should learn now with my own baby coming.”  

“Yeah,” I chucked flatly. “Babies change everything.  Most of the time for good.”  I run a finger of my son’s cheek as he sucks on his bottle. I hate that he’s getting big.  soon he’ll be talking and walking away from me. He’s so close to walking.  

We sit quietly for a few minutes as Mattie drifts off.  I take him from Liv and put him in the portable crib Liv and Steve keep for me in their house.  “Have a good nap, Slugger.” I head back out to the garden and sit.  

“Not that I don’t love when you visit, Torch, but I’m surprised you're here. I thought you would be at the factory or something.” 

“I needed some advice, and I knew if I didn’t bring Mattie, you’d castrate me.”  

Liv smiles and shrugs. “I love my godson, sue me.”  

I snort. “Yeah, well, I do have kind of a big problem.” I take a sip of my own coffee. “You know how Ari agreed to keep Mattie away from the spotlight and helping me and Susie with privacy?” They nod and I continue. “Our PR rep found out.”  

“Maya?” I nod. “Oof, I know she didn’t take that well.”  

“She doesn’t know.” I look at the ground. 

“That he’s your son or...” 

“No, I said he is my son, but she doesn’t know the whole story. She doesn't know... she doesn’t know about Molly or anything.” Liv tries to speak but Steve stops her to let me continue. “We ran into Maya as we were leaving, and I got us out of there without an explanation. I’ve been dodging her calls and just following my scheduled as instructed.  But with the race weekend coming up I know my avoiding time is coming to an end.”  

Steve studies me for a bit.  “You like her.”  A statement not a question.  

“Yeah, I do.  She’s nice or whatever.” I explain us meeting at the gala and having a great night but then a week later, Molly came back and I let go of Maya in my mind. I shake myself from the memories. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”  

“You want to go out with her,” Steve continues.  

“She has a boyfriend.  She’s dating that Sainz guy.” I grit my teeth. “The guy who took my spot.”  

“Easy, Torch.” Liv touches my arm. “He got hired after.”  

“Whatever,” I shrug her off. “Either way, I have to give her an explanation and I’m just not sure what to say.”  

“Be honest,” Steve offers. “She may not be with him forever and you never know. I wish I had done that with Liv. It would have saved us a lot of heartache.” Liv nods in agreement and leans her head on his shoulder. “That's my opinion at least.”  

Honesty. Why didn’t I think of that.  

Maya 

Being the public relations person for a Formula One team is not as easy as stats and winners.  the public is invested in the team, the cars, the drivers that, when I started, I had to take notes on things I hear over the radio and ask Ari about them later. Nowadays, I know everything that is happening with the team.  

Except for Johnny Storm 

The shock I felt when he introduced his son to me hasn’t lessened in the two weeks since. He has a son. A beautiful son who is his duplicate except for his hair.  He has chestnut waves compared to Johnny’s blond. He didn’t look more than a year old.  

How did he keep a secret like this from the world? I investigated and searched everything on the man. The last article that he was in before his return was an obituary. That was odd and I disregarded it.  The last article before that was about his dismissal from Ferrari.   

That was handled with the grace of a rhinoceros.  Ferrari did him dirty. I was angry when I read the releases. They didn’t even give him a chance to shop; they just let his contract run out on the promise of a renewal.  Then to announce Carlos less than an hour later, I would have fired my PR team for it and then raised hell with management.  

Johnny was a beloved driver on and off the track. He did so much for Ferrari and suddenly he was gone.   

And now I know why.  

It didn't make sense before, why didn’t he approach other teams.  He had a baby to take care of.  That leads to more questions, like where is his mother and why is his sister caring for his son.  How did no one know?  

Johnny is an enigma. Before, he was a hot head speed demon. Fearless on the track.  He was good, great even. Why Ferrari let him go is everyone’s guess.  Only Nick Fowler would know. I would love to solve this.  

But I would need Johnny to answer my fucking calls.  

First thing in PR is that you have to know everything. Nothing can remain a secret, especially if you are trying to keep a secret. This led to a confrontation with my brother... 

I stormed into his office, slamming the door closed. “Ari, are you trying to kill me?” 

He put down the report he was reading. “Maya...” 

“No! You can’t keep things from me, especially when it could lead to a shitstorm.  He has a kid that no one knows about!” 

“I know! He told me before he accepted the job.”  Ari sit against his desk, legs and arms crossed. “I know it's a big deal but he’s just trying to protect his son and his past.”  

“And I can help with that if I was read in!” I huffed in exasperation. “I need to know everything, Ari, you know this.  The best defense is the best offense. You need to get him to talk to me.”  

“Alright, alright. I’ll talk with him. But give him some grace Maya. Listen to his story before you pass your PR judgment.”  

Now, I was waiting for Johnny to finish up with practice. The Australian sun is unforgiving to the cars today and everyone is struggling with tires. But I can hear the frustration in his voice. The car is not handling the way he wanted, losing force on the straight away. This isn’t the sun causing problems.  

Johnny: tell me the engineers are seeing this. It’s fucking ridiculous   Liv: they are on it Torch 

Johnny: I have so much more power out of the corners. The front right is struggling on the straight.   Liv: copy 

I turn and look at Ari. He has a grimace and makes a note on his notebook. I snort at the image. My brother is still so old school. Like he doesn’t have a bank of monitors and computers not to mention his phone to use. “Dinosaur,” I mumble under my breathe. Liv heard me and changed her chuckled to a cough to cover up.  

Liv calls out to Johnny to box the car. I watch as our silver arrow comes in and watch the mechanics pull the car into the garage and start cooking it down. Once parked, Johnny climbs out rather calmly for someone who is very frustrated.  

Ari walks right up to him. “Tell me what you’re feeling?” Johnny looks at him lost. “How did the car feel?” 

Johnny looks pensive, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “It pulls,” he starts, “as soon as I hit the corner. When I exit at the straight, I feel the cars downforce struggle like extra weight is being added. Once I can get enough force to move, it too late to take advantage of DRS.”  

“Ok good.” Ari smiles a little. “Anything else?” 

Johnny stares at him but what he says next leaves me curious.  “I don’t feel connected to the car. I feel like we aren’t one yet. I used to feel that but right now I feel like an imposter.”  

“There,” Ari points at him. “That’s what I’m looking for.  You need to reflect and think about that. You aren’t an imposter. You are a Formula One driver.  You need to let go of everything on the outside and feel the car like it's a part of you.”  

“I can’t do that,” Johnny argues back. He glances at me but doesn’t stop.  “I can’t not think about him and what would happen if something happened to me. I’m the only one he has.”  

“Storm, you are not alone in this.  Matthew is not alone. He is surrounded by this team, this family. You must trust that while you have car, we have Mattie and you.  We’ll do our best to get you back to you son every time. But you need to let go of the fear that is holding you back.”  

“I don’t know how.” Johnny looks defeated, like he’s failing. 

“That’s ok. We do have the team psychologist. Talk to her and see what she can do to help.  I know it's been hard without...” my brother pauses, and I make a note of that. Ari clears his throat. “But I want you to succeed. For yourself, your son.”  

I’m impressed that Ari didn’t mention the team.  He’s in charge of the team, has to care about its wellbeing. But right now, he’s a friend, a mentor. I decide to speak up. “Johnny, you don’t have to worry about press. I’ll coach you on what to say so we can downplay the difficulties with the car.” 

He finally looked at me and then nodded.  

“Good. Head back to the hotel and rest.” Ari looked at me. “After you meet with Maya.” Well, that’s one way to get what I want. I give Johnny a PR smile. He clenches his jaw in reaction. He’s not happy to talk to me but I have no idea why. “Let’s head to the conference room,” Ari suggests, dismissing the rest of the team. Liv follows Johnny, arm and arm, speaking quietly to each other. I frown at that. Ari leaned down. “They are best friends. Him, her, Charles, Bucky and Steve. Don’t let your PR brain go to hard.”  

I sighed. “Ok.” I walk into the conference room and Liv is sitting next to Johnny. “Liv, what are you doing?” 

“Johnny asked me to be here,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at me. Wow, she’s got momma bear look down pat. I just nod and take a seat across.  Ari hangs out in the back leaning against the sideboard with his signature arms cross.  

Johnny looks at everyone and sighs. “Two years ago, a one-night stand told me she was pregnant. And then eight months later, my wife died, and I was left with my son.”  

NEXT

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[bluenerdtastemaker]

I have no time to write anything anymore because the university is kicking ass on assessment week but I do have little thought of yukierre au but this au is longer one I think.

I been going back to marvel series, especially the avangers one and spider man, I miss my little irondad and spiderman moment and that got me thinking, what if I make f1 marvel au, I look up there is some but I want to make like yuki mc moment cause that's so me.

So I did a little like moment like yukierre, or yukiam or yukimax but then I found an edit of bucky I gasp with an idea of WINTER SOLDIER YUKI TSUNODA?

So I did little brainstorming and so far I have this puppies;

- Timeline is a bit screwed but anyway so during his F3/F2 era yuki didnt able to get his dream debut for f1 instead he got kidnapped as one of the unfortunate victim for hydra like hear me out idk how else to start this shit, maybe mess up his family backstory but this is just mere idea who knows.

- Since this happen during his F3/F2 era meaning I can add someone that can connect yuki to pierre since I decided to make this yukierre (no surprise) and no surprise, liam lawson, YEP, I was thinking since yuki is not on the seat liam is taking over and 100% sure with yuki not around he can get the seat when checo retired no problem- ANYWAY I was thinking of how to connect and liam is possible one to do cause he is yuki best friend, teammate, and someone liam definitely used to care until the day he gone mia, imagine how traumatised it is like with the sport in formal series then the seat just open, because your rival, best friend, gone, like vanish in thin air, yeah im making this very yukiam bestie focused fic too now i am thinking like bucky and steve ykwim.

- Okay how the fuck we gonna collide the world of motorsport and avengers shenanigans, and there is one way to do it for me, IRON MAN, TONY FUCKING STARK, YEAH, ok since we talking marvel here be prepare cause I am TEAM IRON MAN, like THROUGH AND THROUGH, I have bias towards tony and not a big Captain America Team fan, anyway so from this I am thinking, I am so sorry but I aint gonna give steve roger a good time in this fic not in a slightest so- IRON DAD, yuki adopted by tony guys? Maybe fuck the canon up a bit who knows make bucky in tony side (this is my fic so be it), OH NOT TO FORGET MY BABY PETER PARKER, oohhhh yuki and peter would get along so well, irondad and spidey anyone, found family fic so real.

- ok next step, get the guy into the paddock, how, tony? Tony definitely can get paddock pass imma be real with you he is RICHEST MAN IN THE WORLD HE MUST HAVE PADDOCK CLUB THATS CANON SHIT

- ok. I think thats all for now ( I KNOWW NO YUKIERRE YET BUT I WILL GET THERE SOMEHOW )

- oh talking about yuki being winter soldier what ability, dont know yet, but I been thinking of healing ability, maybe not like over the top cause we talking winter soldier who is assassin in making yk. I want to make healing ability because we never seen that in the series (as far as im aware I havent catch up shit and i know comic series has variation of stories but no healing from hydra soldier yk) I mean it could be a good poetic symbolism of being the opposite of a killer HAHAHAHHA

Thats all so far but we see an update maybe later

[americasass81]

Fuck me, these guys are unbelievable.  But which one is worse?  I mean at a glance both seem utterly despicable, but Steve definitely has that quite, calculating sinister streak that both thrills and frightens in equal measure.  After all with Ransom he’s loud, throws tantrums and everyone knows it.  Steve on the other hand could probably kill with just a look and never even be a suspect.  Which probably explains why he’s helping Ransom.  Who better to cover something up than someone with his calm intellect and military background?  Whatever they’ve done with Caroline it’s going to be interesting to see if this is where it ends or if someone like Stella or our reader will also fall foul of these sinister assholes.

Are you in a serial murder type of mood Synth?  Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

wicked ones - one

Ah well, have another chapter.

intro

Ransom Drysdale x Female MC / Ransom Drysdale x Personal Chef! Female Reader / Joel Miller x Personal Chef! Female Reader / Dark Steve Rogers x Personal Chef! Female Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language, threats and a disappearance.

Summary | Hired as a personal chef for a wealthy family while they vacation in Martha's Vineyard seems like an easy job. Until a disappearance of a guest makes you wonder if you'll make it out alive.

Baba O’Riley flows through your AirPods, your morning run brisk while you run along the beach.

Dinner had been a success the night prior, Harlan kindly asking you for French toast for breakfast, Joni requesting turkey bacon and Linda’s demand for steel cut oatmeal means this jog is a two-fold purpose. The open-air market is setting up for the day, just enough time for you to finish your run, get what you need and head back before everyone starts to wake up.

It’s hard not to think of Caroline, the way she looked when she saw Steve and Ransom. You’d done your own research on the family, aware of who each of them was before you even began your interview with Harlan. Family secrets, especially in high social circles like these, tend to stay hidden. Nothing beside a few articles about Ransom’s removal from a social club in London and Linda’s impending divorce had caught your eye.

Caroline had made her way back up the stairs that night, telling you that Steve had given her an uneasy feeling. You don’t know much about Ransom’s twin, save for the fact he has an illustrious military record, a hometown hero that makes him a viable candidate for whatever government office his kind would aspire to.

You wondered if she ever noticed that Ransom had been at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to finish speaking with you.

-

“How much for these blueberries?” you inquire, lifting up a carton.

The open-air market is barely gaining traction, people just beginning to open up their stalls.

“Five dollars,” the woman says with a smile. “Homegrown.”

“Then I bet they will taste fantastic,” you reply, fishing out money from your pocket and handing it to her, placing the carton in your bag.

“She’s right, you know,” a voice says behind you.

A man gives a polite nod to the woman, extending his hand to you.

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself.

“You’re not giving yourself credit, Officer Miller,” the woman calls out. “Biggest supporter of this open-air market, I promise you.”

Shaking his hand, you have to admit to yourself that he’s handsome.

“Did you just move here recently?” he asks, your head shaking.

“Not quite. I’m a personal chef. Just here with the family.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“The Drysdale-Thrombeys?”

Joel’s face immediately changes at the name, giving you a short nod.

“I do know them,” he confirms.

“Doesn’t like you like them too much,” you tease.

“Harlan is nothing but a gentleman. His children, however, are another story. Get a little rowdy from time to time. Didn’t think they’d be out here this summer. Harlan must have convinced them. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you qualify, watching him move to the next stall to greet the man who is unloading boxes of cantaloupes.

-

Harlan surveys the table with a grin.

Salted caramel French toast, blueberry pancakes, fluffy eggs and turkey bacon line the table. Fresh cut fruit is diced and placed in various bowls around the table, the scent of fresh coffee reaching his nose.

Joni stands next to Harlan, eyeing the steelcut oatmeal and breakfast potatoes, lifting her eyebrow in surprise.

“Everything looks good,” Joni praises. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not,” Harlan replies, pulling out a seat for Joni. “I told you she’s amazing.”

“Is she going to survive Linda? The last chef I hired, Linda practically ran him out of the house.”

“You hired him, that’s why,” Harlan reminds her, taking a seat at the head of the table. “I have high hopes for this one. She’s feisty. A good heart… comes through in her cooking.”

Joni scoops some eggs and potatoes on her plate, reaching for the coffee as Harlan takes a bite of his French toast, closing his eyes in bliss.

“And Ransom and Steve? I didn’t think either of them would come. Not really their scene, especially Steve,” Joni wonders.

“It’s been years since we’ve all been under one roof. Linda was very adamant that her boys be here and I feel like with Steve around, we’ve got a little more of a handle on Ransom when he decides to -”

“Lash out? Be an incorrigible asshole?”

“Morning, Joni,” Steve says brightly, striding into the dining room. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Immediately Joni sits up straight, keeping her mouth closed while Harlan directs him to a seat. Steve surveys the table, nodding with approval.

“No,” she finally answers, watching her nephew help himself to some pancakes and eggs. “Harlan and I were just discussing the new chef.”

“What about her?” 

“Well, for starters, she’s much better than the last one Joni hired,” Harlan teases. “Trained in Italy and Switzerland.”

“Well traveled,” Steve comments. “Doesn’t explain the lack of hospitality.”

“Was she rude?” Joni asks, giving Harlan a look.

“Guarded,” Steve replies. “Knows our allergies and what we don’t like. Hasn’t really spoken to me much since I got here.”

“She’s here to do a job, Steve,” Harlan reminds him. “As it stands, she’s been busy with our upcoming summer party.”

“How could I forget,” Steve answers him. “Makes sense.”

Linda takes her seat, rubbing her temples for a moment.

“Whoever was stomping around upstairs late last night kept me up for the majority of the night,” Linda mutters, shaking her head in disgust. “I don’t think it’s that hard to ask for a little peace and quiet.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Joni remarks. “What did it sound like?”

“Heavy footsteps. Like a tantrum or something,” Linda says with a wave of her hand, scooping out a big portion of the oatmeal into a bowl. “My bet is on… what is her name? Carolina?”

“Caroline,” Harlan supplies. “Are you sure it was her?”

“I don’t know for certain but it definitely sounded different. Where is Ransom, anyway?”

“Probably still asleep,” Joni wonders.

“It’s too late for that. He’s up by six every morning,” Linda informs the group.

Caroline enters, sniffling while everyone at the table stares at her. 

“Are you sick?” Linda demands. “I have an appointment later and the last thing I need is a head cold.”

“No,” Caroline responds, reaching for the chair as she sits down carefully. “Allergies.”

“Allergies,” Steve repeats, his gaze unwavering on her. “Interesting.”

“What?” Linda asks, Steve finishing the last of his breakfast. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ransom answers for her, taking his place at the table. “She had a rough night. Couldn’t sleep. It’ll be better by tonight.”

Linda exhales in exasperation, finishing her breakfast in silence, deeply ingrained on something on her phone. That’s all she will allow for now, Ransom shooting Steve a look across the table.

“What do you think she puts in these eggs?” Joni asks, taking another heaping spoonful. “Ricotta? Cream?”

“Oh, we’re back to the chef,” Ransom counters. “I saw her out jogging earlier.”

“Exercise is always good,” Joni speaks up.

“Indeed it is,” Harlan agrees. “What about you, Caroline? How are you liking your vacation so far?”

“It’s nice,” Caroline answers. “Like the Hamptons but more… quaint.”

“Quieter,” Steve replies.

-

“Okay but how is it?” your friend asks over the phone, your beer being placed in front of you. “I loved the pics. That house must cost a fortune.”

“You don’t even want to know. It’s been easy so far. I planned out the menu a few weeks ago and I just finished the last part of dessert for whatever this party is that Linda has going on.”

“Crazy to me that you’re cooking for the Harlan Thrombey. How’s the family been?”

“It’s honestly been fine,” you reply, taking a sip. “His grandsons are interesting but you know me. Minding my own business and doing my job.”

“Oh, that’s right. Ransom and Steve. Wasn’t there was an article on them a while ago?”

“No idea.”

“I’ll have to search but I thought there was something about them. Ransom was dating some writer but then it didn’t work out. I remember the writer was spilling all sorts of secrets about him.”

“So much for NDAs,” you answer, feeling someone sitting near you. “They’re fine. Just… not even close to my social circle.”

“I guess so. Well, take more pictures. Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks! I gotta head out, I told my sibling I’d help him with my mom’s birthday party setup. Talk to you later.”

When you hang up, the officer you saw from the open-air market is sitting a few chairs down, chatting with the bartender until your eyes meet his.

Raising your glass to his, he smiles.

“They got your drinking already, huh?” he teases, your head shaking in response.

“Not quite. Just needed a little break. It’s been non-stop prep and I can only do so much before I get a little stir crazy. Plus, I haven’t had a chance to get a scope of the town yet. Pretty sure having a beer may not count as looking at historical places but it’s a… start?”

“I think that counts,” Joel answers with a laugh. “You probably need a break. There’s a few spots I can recommend if you’re into history and the like. Unless you want to soak up more local culture by way of alcohol.”

“Historical is fine,” you laugh.

“You sure? I’m off duty for the day so it doesn’t count if you’re asking.”

“I feel like that’s a trick.”

“I promise.”

“Historical,” you agree. “I’m here for the summer. Might as well get acquainted with everything.”

“There’s a few trails,” Joel begins, launching into some names while you search them on your phone. 

There’s something about him that makes you smile even harder. You know you shouldn’t be staring at the way he talks with his hands, the flannel shirt and the rugged appearance.

“Was that too much?” he asks.

Blinking, you realize that you stopped typing.

“I don’t know if I’ll remember all these.”

“That’s fine,” he replies. “Just take one at a time. Explore a little bit.”

“You sound like an expert.”

“Me? No. Maybe a little?”

“I mean, I probably could use a tour guide,” you hint, seeing him nod slowly.

“I’ve never done a tour before but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Searching inside your bag, you find a pen, scribbling your number down on a napkin.

“You let me know when,” you tell him, leaving a tip on the counter, finishing the last of your beer before you head out the door.

-

Once the last plate has been loaded into the dishwasher and the counters have been disinfected and cleaned, you’re ready to call it quits for the night when you hear it.

It’s outside, a muffled shout that makes you pause for a moment, unsure if you heard it. You know no one else did. Linda, Harlan, Joni, Steve and Walter are out for the evening. You thought that Ransom and Caroline had gone with them.

You hear it again, the soft cry that sends you on a mental debate on if you should follow it or stay put and call someone. Looking out the window, you spy Caroline and Ransom, moving to the other open window to listen.

“Everyone knows that you’ll be out of his will if I tell him the truth,” Caroline hisses. “That you never stopped.”

“Yeah? And who has been inhaling my entire supply? Hasn’t been me. If you think you’re going to march in there and tell Harlan I’m still using, you have another thing coming. I will end you, Caroline.”

“I’m so sick of your threats! So sick of your mother and her pompous ass attitude! I don’t deserve this. I gave up a campaign for you and you want to toss me out like trash? I don’t think so, Ransom. Get out of my way.”

Muffled sounds make you head toward the door, hearing Caroline shout.

“Let me go!”

You don’t know what else to do besides break up the fight, opening the doors from the kitchen, nearly running down the hallway when you run into something solid.

Steve holds your shoulders to keep you upright, looking over his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” you counter, trying to get out of his grip. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Steve answers you, still not moving out of your way, still holding onto you. “Don’t interfere. It’ll be over in a few and by then she’ll dismiss you like she does everyone else.”

“So then let me find out on my own that she’s okay. Let her tell me that she’s fine.”

Steve lets you go, turning your back on him when you make it to the door, flinging it open to find Caroline sitting on the ground, sobbing softly into her hands.

Ransom is nowhere to be found, Caroline sniffling while you crouch down to make sure she’s okay. As far as you can tell, there are no bruises, no ripped clothing. She sobs harder when she sees you, looking over her shoulder at Steve.

“Are you okay?”

Caroline swallows hard, lifting up her head.

“I will be. Once I tell Harlan everything. Ransom is a fucking monster,” Caroline whispers, getting up as she dusts off her dress. “Maybe you can handle it but I can’t. I won’t. I’m going back to New Jersey. He isn’t worth any of this.”

“Do you want me to see if I can find a place for you? You’re welcome to stay in my room.”

“No, it’s fine. Ransom went upstairs, said he’s sleeping in the guest room until I come to my senses. Fucking manipulator,” Caroline sobs. “I’m fine. I just need to sleep and then I’m leaving.”

“I’ll make sure there’s a car for you tomorrow,” Steve says behind you both. “I can arrange the flight back.”

“I’m sure you can’t wait to get rid of me,” Caroline accuses, making her way back toward the door to go inside.

“You’d be surprised at my level of patience,” Steve answers her. “Have a good night.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you get up, Steve holding the door open for you.

“You heard it too, didn’t you?” you ask, Steve giving you a curious stare.

When he doesn’t respond, you stop for a moment, head turning to look back at him as you scoff at his lack of answer.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

-

Stella’s eyes are widen when she tells you what she heard earlier this morning, following you around while you place the dishes on the table, following suit with the utensils and coffee cups.

“Gerard told me she left this morning. There was a car leaving when he woke up but…” Stella trails off, placing another cup down. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

She motions for you to lean in closer, looking around before she speaks.

“I heard something last night after you went to bed. A thud or something.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

Stella shrugs, looking up at the ceiling.

“I heard them arguing last night,” Stella whispers. “He was angry when he went up the stairs.”

“Do you have her number? Maybe we could call her,” you suggest, placing the last dish on the table.

“I do. Ransom gave me her number before they arrived so I would have everything ready for her.”

“Let me know if you hear from her,” you respond, hearing a door open. “But for now, keep this between us.”

Stella nods, continuing her task while you head back inside the kitchen.

A few moments later, her phone buzzes, almost as if on cue.

Sorry – had to run. Tell Ransom to mail my carry-on to my address. – C.

Stella breathes a sigh of relief, shoving her phone back in her pocket.

-

Ransom slips back on his signet ring, the drive back quiet as Steve finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not,” Steve begins, gripping the steering wheel. “That’s a one-way ticket to being written out of Harlan’s will.”

“I’m aware,” Ransom shoots back. “It isn’t like she’s going to come back and tell Harlan.”

“Which reminds me. A quiet argument works wonders, Ransom. The entire house could have heard you arguing with her.”

“And who is going to confront me about it?” Ransom asks, leaning his head back against the headrest. “The maid? The cook?”

“Me,” Steve replies. “I warned you about the company you kept and this clearly has taught you nothing.”

“We can’t all be the favorite. Can’t say I don’t find it a little nauseating to see how many people continuously kiss your ass just for existing.”

“Tough shit,” Steve fires back. “You’d have the same if you weren’t so quick to throw everything away that’s been delivered to you on a silver platter.”

Ransom digs a cell phone out of his pocket, studying it for a moment. Steve eyes the phone, shaking his head at the sight of it.

“I told you to get rid of it.”

“I got preoccupied,” Ransom counters, watching it ring in his hand.

“It’s done,” Steve answers him. “Turn it off and toss it somewhere.”

Ransom grips it in his hand, nodding to the right, letting Steve veer off the road and toward the ocean.

“For what it’s worth… I haven’t used in a while. She rummaged through my stash and I let her. You can test me. It’ll be clean.”

“I believe you.”

Ransom nods, the car slowing to a stop in the parking lot.

“No more distractions, Ransom. I mean it. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes. Next time you’re on your own. Got it?” Steve reminds him.

Ransom gets out of the car, phone in hand while he walks down through the sand and to the water’s edge.

Without a goodbye, he raises his arm back, flinging it into the ocean. It lands heavily with a small splash, Ransom standing still for a moment before turning around and heading back to the car.

[roguestorm]

Reasons there’s no romance in Midnight Suns

Age things are weird — Who is the MC the right age to romance? Teenagers like Robbie and Nico, or adults like Blade and Steve? Surely the MC can’t be the right age to romance every character, as they feel like they’re in very different age brackets.

Gender things are weird — Apart from the MC’s gay moms, the only gay character in the game is Nico. So there would be no male gay options for romance unless they wanted to like make Captain America or Doctor Strange romanceable as a guy, and obviously they’re not gonna do that. But then having a game with no gay romance options is a bad look.

What do they do with characters with canonical love interests? Like are they really gonna allow the MC to pair up with Spider-Man when everyone knows he belongs with Mary Jane?

It’s just not the vibe. I mean, can you imagine the devs having to sit down and write like a romantic candlelight dinner date for Steve Rogers x MC for this card-based RPG? It’s just not the vibe!

Reasons there should be romance in Midnight Suns

Can you imagine the devs having to sit down and write like a romantic candlelight dinner date for Steve Rogers x MC for this card-based RPG? And like, can you imagine if they had to do that for both female and male MCs? They must capitulate to the bisexual Captain America agenda now!