#roger stern plays the long game

[biteofcherry]

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

TTD Steve's POV of meeting princess for the first time? Pretty please 🥺

Thanks for sending one of these asks, Jaqui ❤️

ahh, that dark mafia Steve holding our panties hearts in his clutches 😏

Touch The Darkness Masterlist

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: none; Steve is a hot bastard; he's also dark;

Steve was used to being bored, or annoyed by people he faced. Especially people who found themselves toe to toe with him. But there was something different in the way the noses of your pale heels touched his dark boots and your eyes shone simple determination as you strained your neck to look up at him.

It wasn't bravado that he read from your body posture, rather some inner pep talk boosting your confidence to confront him.

It was that moment he realized you were completely clueless about him.

Judging by the way you moved as you walked into your office, you weren't a bold razor type of professional, who cut through the business with balls of steel.

No, you were someone who worked on maintaining your composure.

Which only made him itch to strip you of it.

Of that boring pantsuit, too. It was very chic, not some ugly piece hiding your curves, but it was so proper and bland. As if you were void of any spark.

“Please sit, Mr Rogers.” You tilted your chin up, after closing the door to your office.

Steve waited for you to reach your chair, before he sat down himself. He could be a ruthless mobster, but nowadays to run an empire as successful as his you had to also know how to play to what people expected.

Not that Steve played those games for long.

No, he entertained it to assess the opponent. Then he stroke however he deemed necessary. Usually in brutal ways.

“I’m sure you’re a busy man Mr Rogers,” you forced your jaw to relax. Another sign of you controlling the way you appeared, which Steve noticed. “So I assume your need to see me goes beyond simply wanting to meet the new director of the center.”

Ah, so you do have a spark! Steve felt a surge of wicked elation, hearing that undertone of impertinence, despite your best attempts to remain simply professional and stern.

“It does, but you are a curiosity.” He leaned back in his chair. 

“How so?” You raised an eyebrow.

His gaze didn't stray from your face, reading the way the cogs in your head had to turn with possibilities. You were probably mauling over the fact you weren't a socialite, nor a star type of a doctor who usually mingled around Starks and their alike.

Again, thinking of your appearance and all things proper. Not even considering that he could find you a curiosity for how you were not who.

“A pretty, shiny fish being dropped into a tank full of sharks and swimming through it all calm and confident.”

It wasn't meant to be a compliment. Steve, despite his sudden fascination, was clear in his intention of getting exactly what he wanted, no matter if he had to watch you shiver in response to his threat.

There it was - your back going ramrod straight and your hands falling to your lap. You were holding yourself so hard to maintain composure and not claw at him.

Which was good. If you raised your hand, as amused as Steve could be by it, he would not let you get away with it. You were not in his circle to gain any privileges of forgiveness.

Not yet, anyway.

“If you mean dealing with health care system moguls, I assure you I have experience in that." You replied, tone barely restraining the annoyance bubbling inside of you. "Managing donations for a privately based center won’t be much different than wrapping pharmaceutical companies around a finger.”

Steve grinned, entertained with your attempt to cover a shiver as you held his gaze.

“That’s not what I mean at all.” He drawled with a slight chuckle.

“What is it that you mean, then?” You huffed, once again changing the position of your hands.

Though he was tempted to push that button harder, to see you truly snap and reveal something other than bland, clueless naivety, Steve couldn't allow you to treat him like an average demanding client. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” He tilted his head to the side, adding a tone of ice to his voice. 

It was best if you learned fast that he wasn't one to play those polite back and forth games for long.

“One of Howard’s benefactors?” You swallowed nervously, while still trying to remain calm on the outside.

And Steve found himself the more annoyed with it. He needed you obedient, but he wanted you to submit while being you, not some persona you were playing.

But he didn't provoke you further, more intent on driving to the point.

“Of sort.” He replied. “I’m someone who has all of those benefactors under my thumb. As well as other people.”

Your eyes ignited with realization, though Steve assumed you were suspecting it earlier, but simply didn't accept it fully. Probably thinking that a nice, unthreatening woman like you simply couldn't find herself face to face with a mobster.

There was no rule book about dealing with someone like him. You had to scramble for defense and self-preservation instinct to continue.

“What do you want exactly?” Your voice returned to the softer tune, the slight tremble in it inaudible.

But Steve was skilled in reading signs of fear. Like a predator sensed its prey's heartbeat and scent.

He saw the little gulp. The widening of your irises. The twitch in your fingers. And found it a different kind of potent thrill for his tastes.

He wanted to keep you on edge: a little scared, a lot of shocked.

Steve wondered, if he could push you to break out of that shell and do something that he'd have to meet with an iron grip and a blade at your throat; and how you'd look at him then.   

“A lot of things,” his grin was sharp and threatening, “but now, from you? I want this place.”

Your face again showed that astonishment and clueless confusion. Steve knew there's no way you would be aware of the potential this place had, but there were other possibilities to think of. Well, at least people who grazed the grey area, or were business moguls with a lot of dirt under their carpets, would come up with some ideas.

“You want to run a health center?” You asked slowly and Steve felt his glee rising at the prospect of staining that silly light bubble you were keeping around yourself.

“Not at all.” Steve shook his head, his grin not disappearing. “The grounds it stands on are of value to me.”

He wasn't sure which aspect of it exactly did it, but he triggered your response.

That wild outburst, which stirred his cock with interest as you abruptly stood up and raised your voice at him.

“I am not going to hand over this place, robbing people in need of the help they only recently received, just because you wish to broaden your show-off territory.” You circled your desk in swift steps, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips. 

As if you could scold him, or intimidate him.

“I won’t ever sell it. Or hand it over. No!”

Steve remained seated, simply watching as realization of your own behavior dawned on you. He wondered, if you were more scared of his retaliation for yelling at him, or if you were more appalled that you didn't remain this dead statue of professionalism?

“You haven’t yet heard my offer.” His fingers clenched on the armrests.

To restrain himself from touching you. Not in violence.

Well, not in painful kind of violence...

“I’m not interested in it.” Your reply was softer and your eyes widened as you hear yourself resist further, despite what your brain had to be advising you.

“You should be.” Steve slowly stood up. 

You made a step back. Of course you did, anyone would. But when Steve followed you, crowding you against your desk, he didn't feel hunger for your blood and broken bones.

“See, I’m not the only one who will show interest in this place. Word goes around, especially in this city. Others will reach out to you, too, when they find out I’ve shown interest.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers, warming them up, though he hasn't decided yet for what. “Sooner or later. For your sake, I hope it’s too late for them.”

Steve noticed the change as he spoke. It was minimal, but telling.

The way your breath hitched as he neared and the look in your eyes flicking from fear to glimpse of need.

It was soon gone as you trembled at his approach, but Steve recognized that tread - that craving for something dark and dangerous.

Honestly, a few minutes ago, when he laid his eyes on you for the first time, Steve wouldn't suspect you hid desires for depravity.

You pushed it all down into your proper box, but you couldn't help your body reacting to the fire of annoyance mixed with fear that made you tilt your chin up defiantly.

“If it’s so desired by many, as you claim, why should I take your offer instead of others?”

Steve leaned closer, catching a whiff of your sweet scent punched up by your heightened temperature due to the rush of adrenaline.

He slowly dragged his gaze down your body and up, thinking of the nice clean cuts he'd make to those dull fabrics you wore.

“Because-” he made his voice softer and warmer, studying your face and chest for reaction- “I can protect you from them. But no one can protect you from me, Princess."

The pet name rolled out on his tongue instinctively.

It fit you so well. Your sweet, proper aura, just begging to be conquered and debauched.

“There’s no need for condescending names,” you blurted out, but it was breathy.

Steve noticed the way your breasts raised in reaction, how your arms dropped to your sides defenseless and your fingers twitched.

There was no hate for that pet name, though he expected you would rage at it later, once he left you to gather your wits.

“Condescending?” He inched even closer. He slipped his hands to rest on your desk, caging you between him and the sturdy furniture.

“A Princess is a title of a royal family’s member,” he lowered his head to catch your gaze. “You may not be connected by blood, but you are now an heiress to Stark, who has been treated like royalty for decades.”

“A Princess-” Steve moved one of his hands and brushed it along your hip- “is also a girl deserving to be spoiled.”

He didn't think of pretty gifts for you, but there were other ways to spoil a woman.

If he was to spoil you, it would be with his mouth between your thighs while your naked body shimmered with gems he boldly stole as youth.

But you'd have to earn it.

For now you gave him merely a few minutes of entertainment. Steve wanted more. He wanted the center and he was going to get it. You'd better accept the fact and comply, before he lost his patience.

“Seize the opportunity while I still consider you deserving of it.” Steve pulled back, ignoring the tilt of your body following his warmth for a split of a second.

“You can keep your center, I don’t need it locked down. But you will sign the property over to my name.” He served you the cold, unyielding tone.

“You have twenty four hours to consider. This time tomorrow, I’ll come to hear you say yes to me, Princess.”

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Betrayed | Part 2

PAIRING | Male Avengers x Ex-Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.7K

SUMMARY | It has been a few weeks since you found out about the bet the guys placed on Steve taking your virginity. You haven't been back to the Compound since, but now that you're back you will not hesitate to make life absolute hell for each and every one of the guys who were involved.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Major angst, swearing, Reader getting revenge, and telekinesis are used for some interesting forms of revenge, someone gets choked a little bit, someone loses something near and dear to their heart, someone breaks a few fingers, and someone is put through literal hell again.

A/N | This is the follow-up to my request called Betrayed, which received a lot of love! If you haven't checked that one out already, I'd highly recommend you do it! If you would like to request something, please don't hesitate, I love writing requests for you all! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

You haven't been back at the Compound for a few weeks, especially after what happened when you found out about the bet the guys placed. They may have killed your dream career of being an Avenger now, but that doesn't mean you won't be out of their lives, and they will not forget it, you will make sure of that. You still needed to pick up your stuff from your bedroom, so you decided today would be the perfect day to get some of your stuff, and maybe play with the boys a little bit. They played with you first, after all. And you didn't have to wait long to have your first interaction. Right as you walked in, you saw none other than the golden boy himself, Steven Grant Rogers.

You decided to have a little fun with him now that you have your telekinesis better under control than last time. Without saying anything you stopped him from walking and pulling him towards you, making sure he couldn't go anywhere and he had to face you. ''What the-'' is all he said as he felt like ropes were being put around him, but he didn't see anything, yet he was still moved, and as soon as he turned around, his eyes turned wide with pure, unadulterated shock. You were back, and hungry for revenge after the stunt they pulled on you. ''What, don't have anything smart to say this time, Rogers?'' you snickered at him, having way too much fun with the way he's squirming in your grip.

''Y/N, please, let me go,'' he said with a stern voice, which only made you laugh. ''You seriously think I'm going to listen to you now? After you ruined my fucking life?! You should start doing stand-up comedy Rogers, you're too funny,'' you said, letting out a fake laugh. ''You don't even know how much you ruined my life, do you?'' you asked, tilting your head as you looked at him with a smirk. ''I- I'm sorry,'' is all he said, before dropping his eyes and trying to get out of the hold you have on him. ''Sorry isn't enough, hell, nothing will ever be enough to make up for the fact that you accepted a fucking bet to take my virginity. You honestly made me feel special - which in all fairness, is also on me, I should've known better than that - and took one of the most precious things in my life away from me, just like that. I didn't think you of all people would be capable of hurting someone like that. Guess I was wrong,'' you sighed.

When you held your little monologue you slowly stepped closer to him, and when you were right in his face you practically spat the words out, before actually spitting in his face. God, you hated him to his core for the games he played with you, and this wasn't even the beginning of what you could do to him. You started squeezing a little tighter while squeezing around his throat like a boa constrictor too. You were enjoying this way more than you should, but it felt good to finally be able to hurt him like he did to you, even if it was just a fraction of the hurt you felt. When you saw Steve's eyes roll back in his head showing he was about to pass out, you quickly released him and he was gasping for air while clawing at the floor, trying to hold on to anything the could get a hold on.

You didn't care and stepped right over him, letting him figure his shit out alone. You were on your way to your next victim, a certain archer under the name of Clint Barton, or Hawkeye, as the public knows him. You don't have to look very long, as he is in his training room shooting arrows. He just released an arrow and without a problem, you stopped that same arrow mid-air, making him snap his head around to where you're standing. ''Surprised to see me, Barton? It was only a matter of time before I would show up, now wasn't it? Especially since you were part of making my life a living hell,'' you said, your voice deepening at the last part of the sentence. His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish, he didn't know what to say. You slammed him into the wall behind him with your hands in your pockets, and he fell to the floor like a ragdoll.

''Not so powerful without your little bow and arrows are you? I can't believe how much of a pathetic piece of shit you are,'' you spat at him while you broke his bow and all of his arrows with a flick of your hand. Not only did you get your telekinesis under control, you learned different ways of using your powers too. ''N-No! Not my bow!'' he said, he was attached to it since he used the same one ever since he learned archery. You snap it a few times for good measure, to ensure he would never be able to use it again. ''Stay out of my way from now on, and Laura and the kids will be safe,'' you said as a warning before physically stepping on his bow one last time, reveling in the crunch it made under your boot. ''God, I could listen to that sound forever,'' you said with a smirk as you turned around, leaving Clint laying on the floor with tears streaming down his face.

Finding Tony wasn't all that hard, since he was working in his lab most of the time, and today wasn't an exception to that rule. You didn't even try to hide the fact that you were looking for him, and Tony acted like he didn't care you were there, but he would care very soon. All you did was put up a little display of a fantasy of yours, where Pepper and Morgan were tied up, unable to move and they were gagged, so they wouldn't be able to scream for help. ''What the fuck did you do to my family, Y/L/N?'' he asked as his eyes quickly went up to the screen. ''Who, me? Don't you think it's rude to ask that seeing how you were a part of the bet that hurt me? That ruined my fucking life?!'' your words were laced with nothing but pure venom.

''Seriously, you're acting like a crazy bitch because we had a bet? I always knew you were unstable,'' Tony scoffed, but you could see the hurt in his eyes. He was wondering if what he saw was real or not. ''I may be unstable, but at least I don't spend every single hour stashed away in here tinkering with god knows what when you have a beautiful wife and daughter at home,'' you said laughing. ''I wonder how they're doing, I think I'm going to pay them a little visit to make sure they still remember me,'' you said as you stepped closer, your eyes honing in on the device in his chest. ''But I think I may have a better way of hurting them,'' is all you said before you turned the device in Tony's chest off with a single flick of your finger.

Since this was still keeping the shrapnel away from his heart when it was on, you could see him squirm as he was working to get it turned back on, to no avail. ''Y/N, please don't do this,'' he begged, but you wanted to see him suffer a little more. The best way you knew how to do that, was to tinker with his iron man suit a little bit, and you crossed a few wires here and there, took out some of the hardware, and smacked the suit against the walls a few times for good measure. Right at that moment Tony was practically begging on his knees for you to stop, and you finally caved. You didn't plan on killing the man, so you turned the device back on so he would continue to live.

''Don't think for a single fucking second I won't keep it off the next time, Stark. Honestly, I never thought I would enjoy seeing you on your knees begging me so much, I think I might have you beg just a little longer,'' you said as you continued to ruin things around his lab, things that were near and dear to his heart. ''Please, please stop, I will do anything if you just stop,'' he said with tears streaming down his face, making you laugh maniacally. ''Pathetic asshole,'' is the last thing you said before stomping on his hand, effectively breaking all his fingers so he wouldn't be able to do anything for a long time. It felt good to hurt him like that, you were starting to feel a lot better now.

''Only one left now is Barnes, you don't happen to know where he is, do you?'' you asked with a sweet voice as if you didn't just break his fingers. ''Gym,'' is all he managed to get out before you turned around. You walked into a straight line to the gym to meet Bucky, and you swing open the door, startling the super soldier as he meets your gaze in the mirror in front of him. ''You're back,'' he whispers as he sees you, and you just laugh at him. ''Yeah, I am. And you're going to regret ever getting out of the claws of HYDRA,'' you say before using your mind control on him. You let him relive every single bad memory he ever made.

He sinks to his knees and he puts his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the noise in his head as you let him relive his worst nightmares, only 10 times worse. He starts squirming on the floor as you keep going, and you make a high-pitched noise go through his head too. ''S-STOP!'' is all he can mutter over and over, but you don't want to. When you eventually do stop, you see that there is nothing left of the man he was before you came in, and you're feeling good about it. ''That's what you get for being best friends with the man who ruined my fucking life, you dick,'' you said before turning around and grabbing your stuff from your bedroom. You were glad you finally got your revenge, and it felt damn good to finally have inner peace.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Deep Tissue

Nomad Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve offers to stretch you out after a fight.

Warnings: 18+ Only! Explicit Smut, Nomad Steve, Bearded Steve, Dominant Steve, Sensual Massage, Scolding, Teasing, Dry Humping, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Hair Pulling, Finger Sucking, Body Worship

Word Count: 1.3k+

Read more MARVEL stories!

His hand slides under your shirt near the small of your back, the roughened texture of his fingertips stirring you from your slumber as they press softly against your skin. You can just barely feel the thin cloth of your t-shirt folding in on itself, collecting around his wrist as he smooths his way up your torso, exposing it to the harsh chilly air of your bedroom. He takes his time increasing the pressure on his path as you begin to wake, kneading the muscle that connects your shoulder blade to your spine as you turn your head to face him.

“Mmm,” You hum as your eyelids flutter apart, taking in the blurry image of him behind you as his thumb presses deep into your skin. “That feels good.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you to stretch after a fight?” He adjusts his position on the bed to get closer to you, his hip flush with yours as he moves his other hand to the opposite side of your back.

“At least one more,” you mumble, the pressure he’s putting on your muscles quickly outweighed by the pleasure of release that comes directly after. “I was going to, but I fell asleep.”

“Uh huh,” he teases, biting his lower lip as his hands carefully glide over the back of your neck. He always seems to know exactly where you need him. His thumbs, palms and fingers all magically relieve the tension in your body as they glide across your flesh, sending currents of warmth deep into your neck and shoulders. “Is that why you’re so tight?” He pushes both thumbs up into your hairline as you exhale.

“We’re not all super soldiers, you know.” You let your eyelids fall shut again as he slowly makes his way back down your form, a quiet moan leaving your lips as he nears your hips.

“I would have helped if you’d come to me. Now you’re so stiff, I don’t know if I can fix it.”

He repeats the soothing motion over again, venturing up higher into your scalp with all five of his fingers before traversing all the way across your frame and down to your biceps, straining the tiny threads that hold your shirt together. He can feel your body reacting to him like it always did, the curves of your spine rolling like waves on the ocean, eager to pull him in with the tide as he navigates his palms over the roaring ache of your overworked muscles. He treads new waters each time he passes over you, testing the nerves near your tailbone and hips as they push back against him, begging for more.

“Steve,” you whine, lifting your pelvis as he barely glides his thumbs beneath the hem of your underwear. “Please.” You turn your head just far back enough to make eye contact, locking onto those crystal blues to make sure he sees how serious you are.

“Please, what?” That tiny change of tone in his voice tells you all you need to know about where he’s headed, his soft bedroom whisper now painted with a stern hunter green tambre. He holds your gaze as he increases his pressure in the middle of your glutes, smirking only as your lips turn down in frustration, his hands finding their way up your spine once more.

He knows how to drive you completely crazy, to touch you just enough around each area to get you primed and ready for contact before pulling away and focusing on something else. It was a game the two of you started playing with each other months ago, seeing how long you could last before you broke down and begged for him to touch you where it counts. You could never quite predict when his darker side was going to come out, though; when his teases would turn into taunts, his kisses into bites and his requests into demands. It was cruel yet delicious, the shift seeming to come faster every time the two of you were together, his reserved front falling by the wayside as he took on a slightly more… authoritative role with you behind closed doors.

“Please, I,” you stammer, trying your best not to let the growing moisture between your legs distract you from forming a coherent thought as you keen against his palms. “I umm…”

The mattress creaks beneath him as he moves his hand to your neck, shifting his weight to lean forward with a brisk tug of your hair. “Are you going to ask me for what you want?” He tugs even harder, whispering his question into your ear. “Huh?”

There it is.

Instead of waiting for you to respond, he lifts his leg up to straddle your thighs, a quiet grunt leaving his lips as he exhales.

“Yeah,” you manage to mumble. Your heart pounds in your chest as his hips settle in just below your center, his tight grip in your hair relenting for a split second as he adjusts his point of gravity to his knees. You can smell the remnants of his cologne as the natural scent of his body overpowers it, turning you on even more as he nestles his chin into the nape of your neck.

“I’m waiting.”

FUCK.

“I want you to help stretch me out,” you finally confess, groaning as he pulls on your hair even tighter. “Please,” you add, practically begging. “Please stretch me out, Steve.”

“Yeah? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He kisses that patch of skin between your ear and hairline, his beard brushing against it as his lips peck down the back of your neck, sending a rush of warmth into your core. “I can do that.”

You gasp as he grinds his hips into your thighs, deepening his kisses the further down he goes until he reaches the collar of your shirt. You can already feel him begin to grow beneath the cloth of his pants as he releases his fist from your hair, finally moving his hands in the direction you’ve been wanting them to go.

You whine in protest as he pulls his mouth off of you, giving himself enough room to take you in as he tugs the delicate cloth of your underwear down just above your thighs. It seems to last forever as he smooths his palms over your freshly exposed skin, sending goosebumps prickling over your cheeks before spreading them apart with his thumbs to get a better view. Your mouth falls open as you feel him slide his fingers down between your cheeks, dipping his index and middle fingers between your folds to collect your arousal.

“You feel that?” He spreads your moisture up and down your length, increasing his pressure every time he glides over your clit before deliberately rubbing his fingertips over it. “You’re already wet.” He leans forward again to make sure that you hear him, sliding those fingers of his deep inside your walls as you clench down around his hand, refusing to let go.

“Am I?” You can barely speak as he feels you from the inside, nearly drawing out all the air from your lungs as he goes deeper into your sex, stretching you out as promised, practically pushing you to the edge.

He guides his digits into you, slowly massaging your internal muscles with unmatched skill until he carefully pulls them out, smearing some of your juices onto your inner thigh. He brushes over your bud again, taking great care to send waves of bliss up into your belly, dozens of them building on top of the next with each stroke until they finally crest over in a torrential tidal wave of ecstasy. You can’t help but cry out as his ministrations sweep you away with the undertow, wreaking havoc on every nerve and muscle in your body as it begins to quake in the all-encompassing current of sheer euphoria.

“Shhh, you’ll wake the neighbors,” he chides, still running his fingers over your delicate flesh as you rattle and hum beneath him, toes curling behind you with each new point of contact he still purposefully makes. “Now,” he smiles coyly, bringing his sopping wet fingers up to his mouth for a taste. “Let’s really stretch you out.”

[zaptap]

i just reached 1990s spider-man comics. almost halfway there in terms of years, definitely not in terms of comics though (i guess there were a TON in the 90s, and the 60s was pretty much just amazing spider-man which meant it had the fewest)

i'd heard before starting the 80s ones that that was widely considered the best decade for spider-man comics, and it certainly lived up to it. roger stern's run was really good, hobgoblin was a pretty interesting villain up until they screwed up at the end after 4 years because the people making the comics all had different opinions on who should be under the mask and were even sabotaging each other (instead of just using the guy who was originally supposed to be him. which i guess got fixed via retcon in the late 90s)

secret wars was pretty good (only because the heroes and villains involved largely weren't that interested in playing the beyonder's game, and dr doom derailing the whole thing made it interesting)

and secret wars ii asked the question of "hey wouldn't it be fucked up if there was a guy who had unlimited power to do anything and he just wanted to try to figure out what his place was in a universe he could fundamentally change with a whim" and yeah it was fucked up. and that's what made this one interesting

also we finally have people who know spider-man is peter parker and don't either die or lose their memory soon afterward, which was the case for like 20 years. mary jane comes back after being completely absent from the comics for a couple years or so, and reveals she'd known peter was spider man "for years" (later revealed to be since the night uncle ben died, which was long before they'd even met) and then peter has someone to talk to about spider stuff

anyway. 90s had a lot going on. i guess there's more symbiote stuff (venom was introduced in 1988, carnage should probably be on his way soon), and then there's infinity gauntlet/war/crusade which if anything should be better than what the mcu did with them

and then there's the infamous clone saga which apparently lasted about 2 years, and with 4 ongoing monthly series ("spider-man" starts in 1990) that'd mean about 100 comics? yeah no wonder people got tired of that. i'll see how it goes though

also i'm reading about other spider-people too (keeping an eye on appearances of jessica drew and julia carpenter, the two spider-women so far, as well as reading spider-ham on the side--a few more 5-page stories and he's gone until like 2010) so i'll be starting 2099 after i get into 1992

tbh even if the 90s and newer comics arent as good, the fact that i'll be reading stuff from within my lifetime should probably do something for my enjoyment of them. like yeah the 80s ones were great but it still had that "this was before my time" quality to it you know

[dojimakojima]

One of the most frustrating things in this world, is telling someone about a thing you like and care about, only for them to not even pretend to care a little bit.

My mother does this sometimes. I try to think ahead of all my conversations, if I tell someone about a game/youtuber I'm really fixated on, I try to think ahead and make a "list of points" to go over if I end up talking about it. Really, I'm trying to make the conversation as interesting as possible for the other person, its selfish, because if I do a good enough job, then maybe they'll check it out too, and I'll have someone to talk about it with.

Me and my friends have similar tastes in media, so talking to them about something, even if they aren't interested in it directly, they're interested in me, and in the things I'm passionate about and are willing to listen. I try to keep my tangents short and organized, so they aren't stuck talking about it forever. So it feels good. I used to be way worse, to be clear, and I wouldn't be able to stop talking about one thing for weeks, but now I'm able to control it better.

I try bringing up something I like to my mother and often she just... rolls right past me. If I don't get an abrupt subject change out of disinterest from her, I'll probably get a "just get to the point". It's really frustrating because I try coming up with ways I can share the things I like, in the most abstractified, short (<2mins), interesting way possible and she doesn't bother reaching out to try and listen. I even preface them with "Can I tell you about something I like/game I've been playing/show I've been watching", and she often just says "No, I'm tired" in a stern tone. There's never a time when she isn't tired.

On the other hand, multiple times I've gone to get water/food from my kitchen and have run into my mother in the middle of watching one of her reality dating shows (Usually Single's Inferno, or Love Is Blind). Often, she pauses and unprompted, tells me about what's going on. I try to follow along the best I can and ask questions to show I'm interested. Even on harder days where I can't pay attention as well, I ask more basic questions to try and show her I'm interested, as she describes a season's worth of TV. Often she goes on for 30+ minutes. Eventually I have to say "I have people waiting for me/I have work/I can't talk right now" but I try to hear her out for as long as possible because I am trying to be interested. Sometimes, I'll ask her for updates because she lights up when she talks about her favorite shows. But she can't seem to extend the courtesy of even listening to the things I like.

And its sort of frustrating because I feel so passionate about something, and she doesn't seem to even want to be aware of the things I'm thinking about all day. One time I said two and half sentences describing a game I liked "I've been playing this very interesting game recently called The 25th ward. You follow three storylines. All about people trying to solve a mysterious murder that happens at the beginning of the story, detectives, hitmen and a journali-". Halfway through the word "Journalist", she asked me if I had any work I needed to do in an annoyed tone.

Edit: Because of moments like this, I only end up actually talking about the things I like and am obsessed with, very rarely with my mother. My friends know I've spent the majority of the year consummed by ActionButton/Tim Rogers' videos and essays, and I talk about him all of the time with my friends. I converted one friend into a semi-fan, who watched the Boku video with me, and the other friend doesn't like his style, but is patient with me. I've only brought him up like three times to my mother, one of which was because I ordered a shirt from him that was coming in the mail. Because the one time I watched a video in the same room as her, she called him annoying, and when I told her about his hyperthymesia, she said, "I think he's a liar, he's definitely lying about that." In that "100% positive, you'd have to be really stupid to believe that" tone, only my mother could do. It just made me feel so small. Even if that were the case, she couldn't even pretend to care, or just listen?

[charmed-asylum]

I love Steve I can’t even explain how much so right now hahaha. Like nope I love it I do. And reader heheh so so much but I love it never change never change

“ Steve points at a picture of Bucky on the investigation wall he made for you. “That’s our target.”

You grin and lean back in your chair. “Please continue, Obi-Wan Rogers.”

He gives you a stern look. “Miss, if you don’t take my classes seriously, you can go home and watch a rom-com.” and then he had something for Bucky to he playing the long game rn lol love it. He probably been doing this since middle school. Love this story so much can’t wait to see what next

Shy Guy (5) - Present

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing: Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: teasing, banter, friendship, fluff, making out, cocky reader, virgin Bucky, shy Bucky, mentions of Steve's sex life

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and@dawn-petrichor-world​ made me do it…

Shy guy (4) - Past & Present

Shy guy masterlist

“Hmm…what else do I need to know, Stevie?” You eagerly take notes while Steve explains the complexity of asking a guy out without making him look like a loser. “I don’t want Bucky to believe he’s a loser.”

“Bucky is not a loser, but shy. He never kissed another girl,” Steve points at a picture of Bucky on the investigation wall he made for you. “That’s our target.”

You grin and lean back in your chair. “Please continue, Obi-Wan Rogers.”

He gives you a stern look. “Miss, if you don’t take my classes seriously, you can go home and watch a rom-com.”

“I’m listening,” you groan. “Go ahead. I need to know how to make a move on Bucky without scaring him off.”

“Alright,” Steve uses a pointer stick to point at the next picture. “That’s our goal. We want him to be putty in your hands but get hard at the same time.”

You lean forward to look at the picture. “Dude! Is that a dick pick?”

Steve snickers. “I googled Bucky’s name, and this was the first picture coming up.”

“You’re lying!” You stick your tongue out. “You can’t pin a dick on our investigation wall, Steve!”

“Why?” He shrugs your concern off and points to the next picture. “Before we get to the dick, we need to make him loosen up and ask you out. Or accept your invitation.”

“That’s a dog playing with a bone,” you wrinkle your nose. “Is that a metaphor or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You sank your teeth into Bucky and won’t let up.”

“I’m not a dog, Rogers,” you snap at your friend. “I wanted you to give me advice, not turn this into a joke.”

“I’m not joking about love and dick,” Steve chuckles but keeps a straight face. “If you want him to dick you down one day, you’ll need to win his trust and heart first.”

“Good, that’s a start,” you take notes while Steve tells you about all the things Bucky likes. “Hmm…that’s good. Tell me more about his eating habits and the lingerie he looked up in his search history.”

“Our boy grew up so fast,” Steve sighs and gives you a wink. “You should see his search history. He’s an eager beaver when it comes to eating pussy and fingering a girl.”

“Oh,” you nod, and focus on taking notes, not the image in your mind. Bucky between your thighs, eating your cunt. “I like me a man who can eat pussy.”

Steve laughs. “Well, in that case, Bucky is your man. I watched him practice while watching porn. He’s got a skilled tongue.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Next step, we need to talk about his erogenous zones. You need to know how to touch him,” Steve continues. He points at his neck with the pointer stick. “Neck.”

“Neck,” you hum.

“Nipples. Earlobe. Lips,” he moves to his crotch. “At last, the divine meat stick.” He grins. “The dick.”

You giggle and snort. “Meat stick, got it.”

“Y/N,” Steve’s features soften when you look at him. “You need to make a move but don’t be too pushy. Bucky will shy away from you if you are too pushy.”

“Christ, I won’t shove his pants down to suck his dick,” you grunt. “Now back to the basics. Do you have an idea for the perfect first date?”

“Alright, miss,” Steve turns back around to point at the investigation wall. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Doll, you’ve got this,” Steve whispers as he guides you toward the frat house. “He’s over there, looking for you because he wants to borrow a book. You look stunning. This outfit shows the right amount of cleavage and ass. But it’s not slutty.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath. “I’ve got this. Bucky Barnes will be putty in my hands.”

Steve slaps your ass, making you squeal. “Go and get him tiger.” 

Bucky is smart.

Like really smart.

He speaks over five different languages.

Still, he doesn't know how to talk to a girl.

It's not that he's not attractive. Girls do look at him. He's just too nervous to hit on a girl he likes.

It feels like his voice fails anytime he tries to talk to one of the girls from the frat house across the street.

Especially when he sees you.

It's even worse that you are friends with his best friend.

Steve Rogers. Quarterback. Golden boy. A girls' magnet.

“Hey Barnes," you quip as Bucky zoned out again. "Whatcha looking at?"

“What?" he slowly dips his head to glance at you standing next to him.

When did that happen?

“I was just...”

"Steve won't come back for a while. I think this week it's Carrie or was it Chanel?" you huff. "I'm telling you; he tries to break a record or something. I’m worried about his health. What if he breaks his dick? He won’t be able to win the upcoming game with a cast around his dick.”

Bucky chokes on his spit.

You giggle.

“Uh—what do you want here if Steve is not around?” He gets out before dropping his eyes to his shoes. 

“Hmm…On Friday night we will go out. Wear something nice,” you cock your head to look Bucky up and down. “Oh, and no hair gel. I like running my fingers through a guy’s hair when we make out.”

“What?” he swallows thickly. His cheeks turn pink, and he feels his heart start racing. “Y/N…I…what? Is this a joke?”

“You know how to get a girl’s attention,” you lean closer to peck his lips. “I hope you know I expect you to put that talented tongue to better use…”

Bucky gasps as you pounce on him to claim his lips. You slip your tongue inside, snaking it with his as you run your fingers through his soft curls.

“Barnes! GOOO! Barnes!” the frat boys chant behind Bucky’s back. “We knew you had it in you all this time. He will finally get laid!”

You grin against his lips.

“Aw, I always had a thing for virgins,” you coo. “I promise to be gentle, babe…”

“What just happened?” Bucky looks like a confused puppy. He runs his tongue over his lips to taste you again. “Y/N, why did you…I…what?”

“Bucky,” you place your hands on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. “I call dips on you.” You smirk. “We are friends since childhood, and I don’t want you to get laid by some other bitch. You’re mine.”

“Get laid,” he chokes out. “Oh,” his cheeks turn pink, and he chuckles nervously. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Buck?” you run your index finger over his chest. “I know you don’t see anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky stutters. “We can watch a movie or order food.”

“Buck,” you lean closer to brush your lips over his quivering ones. “I will cook, and you can decide on the dessert.” You grin. “I heard you have a very talented tongue and are burning to put it to good use.”

He blanched, and chuckles nervously. “It’s a date…”

“It’s a date,” you say and fist his jacket to claim his lips again. “See you on Friday, Bucky baby.”

“STEVE! STEVE!” Bucky stumbles inside their shared room. “STEVE! She asked me out and…what do I do now?”

“Alright,” Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulder to guide him toward the investigation wall. Steve changed the pictures to help his friend. “I have been waiting for you, Padawan. I will tell you everything about Y/N, women, and pussy…”

Tags in reblog.

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #692 (October 1993)

In this issue: Superman goes to the doctor and finds out why he's not dead anymore! But, before that, he's clearing some of the debris left by his fight with Doomsday when he finds... Clark Kent? Lois Lane is very happy to see Clark again, but Superman himself doesn't look very thrilled in these panels.

Turns out Clark wasn't dead as everyone believed, he was simply trapped in the basement of a collapsed building! The basement happened to equipped with plenty of food and gym equipment (explaining why he's still jacked, like Superman), but unfortunately not a single pair of scissors (explaining why his hair is now long, like Superman's).

Later, Superman bumps into Lex Luthor Jr., who demands to know where Supergirl is, but Superman gives him the runaround. Hmm, where could Superman's good friend who can change shape and pretend to be other people be? Anyway, Superman then meets Lois and Clark and... holy crap! Mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent is secretly Supergirl!

So yeah, Supergirl pretended to be Clark for a while just so he and Superman would be seen together and no one would question why both are suddenly alive again. Then Supergirl leaves and we move on to the second dilemma solved in this issue: How the hell is Superman alive again? To address that question, supernatural DC character (and fellow Jerry Siegel/Joe Shuster creation) Doctor Occult appears out of nowhere and rudely teleports Lois and Clark to a black void, where he replays moments from Superman's life... and death.

Occult explains that Doomsday DID punch Superman's spirit out of his body, but there was still solar energy keeping the body just barely alive. Superman's ghost ended up stuck between the living and the dead, attracting some nasty soul-eating demons. Fortunately, Pa Kent happened to be dying of a heart attack at the same time, so he and Superman teamed up to fight off the demons (as seen in Adventures #500). Superman’s soul returned to his near-corpse, which was taken to the Fortress of Solitude by the Eradicator and lovingly nursed back into health. (Okay, more like “coldly,” but you can’t argue with the results.)

Anyway, the point is that Superman's resurrection happened due to a convoluted series of events that could never be repeated, unless someone's willing to sneak behind Pa Kent and blow an airhorn in his ear or something. As the mystical exposition dump ends, Occult teleports Lois and Clark to Smallville, and the issue ends with the Kents finally reuniting. A tender moment...

...until two seconds later, when Ma smacks Clark in the back of the head for taking two whole issues to come see them (or that’s what I’d do).

Plotline-Watch:

Doctor Occult reveals that the moment when Bibbo shocked Superman’s body with a hyper-charged defibrillator in Adventures #498 actually helped keep him alive. Once again, Bibbo is the real hero of this saga.

Supergirl has a lot of experience posing as Clark, since she was stuck in that form between 1989 and 1992. That was also her in the only other photo of Superman and Clark together, taken in Superman #34.

While Superman is being interviewed by a news crew after rescuing "Clark", that lawyer from Action #689 barges in and demands that they stop calling Superman Superman, since that name is now trademarked by Superboy's manager. Damn, maybe he's gonna have to start calling himself "Supreme" or something?

Aww, Lex is happy to see Superman again. Sure, it's only because he wants to be the one to kill him, but still.

S.T.A.R. Labs is examining the Eradicator's corpse when they realize he's alive! Sort of. Later, Doctor Occult remarks that the Eradicator sacrificed himself "in mind, if not in body". Hmm. The doctors overseeing his condition are Kitty Faulkner, who can turn into an orange She-Hulk called Rampage after a workplace mishap, and a new character called David Connors, the only S.T.A.R. employee without superpowers. So far.

The JLA returns from the little space vacation the Cyborg sent them on, and we get the first instance in all of comics of Guy Gardner admitting he was wrong. Character growth! Don Sparrow says: “Nice to see some follow-up to the characters around the DCU and how they react to Superman’s return. No mention of the fact that they got suckered into a mission into space that went nowhere.”

When Doctor Occult shows up, Superman is like "aw, not this guy again!", referencing that classic tale of Superman's first encounter with the supernatural... which hasn't come out yet. Don: “It’s a neat forward call-back (is that a thing?) when Superman references his first encounter with Doctor Occult, given that we won’t see it happen until 1995, when DC does a line-wide ‘Year One’ series of stories. And wouldn’t you know it, that story is written by none other than Roger Stern (and even involves tentacles, as in the thumbnail image)!” #rogersternplaysthelonggame

Don Sparrow's section, on the other hand, can be read NOW, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We open with the cover, and it’s one of the top ten best of this era, for sure.  Drawn by Kerry Gammill and Butch Guice, DC used this drawing on the “Return of Superman” cards.  I tend to favour simpler, iconic covers, even when they don’t necessarily represent the story within, but in this case, it’s showing exactly what the heart of the story is about: Clark Kent is back. 

Inside, we open with a full page splash of Superman’s shield, through tons of rubble, and it’s a great image, but without the face, it allows us to focus on the title of the story, a callback to the speech introduction of the old Fleischer Cartoons.

I don’t know if it’s from the writing, or the artist, but Action Comics has always seemed the most romantic of the Super-titles, and this one is no exception, as Clark and Lois have their hands all over each other for basically the whole comic. While it is a bit weird to remember that it isn’t Clark that Lois is caressing (more on that in a bit) in the early part of the story, it always feels intimate and romantic more than it feels graphic or titillating.  A tricky balance that this team pulls off well, particularly in their “reunion” on page 3. [Max: Every time I read this issue I think it’s Martian Manhunter posing as Clark and when they start flirting I’m like “ew”. Then I remember who it is and I’m like “nice”.]

I always enjoy seeing Superman flying upside-down, which I consider to be a Byrne innovation—I don’t remember him doing it pre-Crisis. It always seems so joyful and carefree, and it’s nice to see Superman savouring his powers. 

Jackson Guice uses tone very well in the scenes with Lex Luthor II in his aviators, and I quite like the sense of motion to Superman’s pose as he approaches the helicopter—almost like he’s swimming in the sky rather than floating.

It’s a good drawing of the Eradicator getting the post-Hoth Luke Skywalker treatment, with David Connor and Kitty Faulkner getting an eyeful.  My copy has a slight colouring error that makes it look like the Eradicator is awake in the tank, even though he’s supposed to be catatonic. [Max: Still looks like that in the collections. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleep with their eyes open?]

Superman embracing Lois after the ruse of “Clark Kent” is very cutely drawn, as is the Ghost-like backward embrace on the following page.  

The entire sequence replaying Superman’s death and rebirth is drawn well throughout, especially the dreamlike staging, and the darkness as Lois knocks the flashlight away.  It’s also moving that Superman can see the heroic lengths that Bibbo went to try to save him once Superman succumbed to his injuries.  

Lastly, it was wonderful to see Clark reunited physically with Ma and Pa, especially with the nice touch of the poem by DH Lawrence as the only narration.  Stern was always the best at referencing secondary texts in his stories, and it’s well used here.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Is it me, or is Matrix/Supergirl a little too into this Clark Kent act?  I get that making their performances light and funny keep it from seemingly overtly dishonest, but “Clark” is pretty tender in these scenes. Lois does a good job of playing along, but it’s hard for me to fully forget that all this canoodling is actually with Supergirl.  So as a helpful tool, I created these graphics: [Max: Nice.]

It was cool that Lois specifically mentioned that Jimmy got a shot of the returned Clark Kent next to Superman, I always like it when that can happen.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how creepy it is that Luthor has a sexual relationship with Supergirl/Matrix, when she is in so many ways (mainly mentally) a child, and I can’t help but read the scene where Lois chooses Superman over “Clark” this way.  The laughing and clapping has a whole different feel if you think of her as mentally diminished somewhat.  

So it’s not exactly a continuity error that Clark says on page 13 that he has to call Ma and Pa to let them know that “Clark” is alright (even though he already called them in a previous issue).  It could be that they want to tell the Kents the cover story of Clark’s return has now taken place, and they can act like their son is alive again when they go to the corner store, etc. [Max: Yeah, that’s how I took it. It would be awkward if their neighbors saw them all cheerful while their son is still “dead”.]

 I like to imagine that Dr. Occult looks and sounds like Robert Stack. [Max: It’s impossible for me to hear him as anyone other than Humphrey Bogart after Lois calls him “Sam Spade”.]

We’ve mentioned previously Jackson Guice’s tendency to use photo reference for his characters.  In this issue, Superman looks a lot like Jason Patric to me, who would have made a pretty great Superman had there been movies being made in this time.

I also appreciated this issue explaining both the physical and metaphysical reasons Superman was able to return—and that there’s no back door to the story—if Superman ever died again, he would be unable to return.  

[buckybarnesowl]

If I Only Had a Heart - Part I of II

Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

Summary: Team Cap is back at the compound after being pardoned. Bucky is suffering from the shoddy work HYDRA did with his prosthetic. Tony brings reader in to fix it—and maybe help him find his heart in the process.

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+ reference to trauma, smut (four play, consensual unprotected sex), prosthetic arm kink. Part 1 is angst and fluff only. Part 2 is smut. Minors DNI.

A/n: My first challenge! Congratulations on the 2K @thefanbasewhore! The timeline is canon-divergent, post-Civil War. No Infinity War or End Game here. Tony didn’t destroy Bucky’s arm, so it’s still the original silver cybernetic prosthetic from HYDRA. I altered the love at first sight trope since I couldn’t work in the soulmate AU. Part two will use prompt 25. “Let me help you.”

Part II

“I don’t need this,” Bucky grumbled as he and Steve walked into the elevator.

“Tony’s workshop, please, F.R.I.D.A.Y. And yes you do, Buck.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark is expecting you,” the Irish lilt of the A.I. confirmed.

“No I don’t,” Bucky repeated. “I’m fine. It’s fine. No one needs to waste any—”

“Now, I’m going to stop you right there,” Steve stated, turning to his friend with a stern face. “Alleviating your pain is not a waste. You don’t deserve it, Buck. You’ve suffered enough for ten lifetimes over. Tony says Y/N is the best he knows. He really thinks she can fix it,” pausing briefly before adding, “He’s trying, Buck. He wants to forgive y— him. Let him try.”

An audible sigh left Bucky’s lips followed by the dropping of shoulders. He closed his eyes to break his friend’s piercing gaze, running his flesh hand through his long chestnut hair. Steve knew to interpret that as conceit and he squeezed Bucky’s right shoulder—though releasing the hold seconds later as he noted the slight flinch. Even after three months of rehabilitation and living in the compound, Bucky still shied from touch. Even with Steve.

Before either of them could acknowledge Bucky’s discomfort, the elevator doors opened to Tony’s personal lab.

“Boss and Ms Y/L/N are in the test lab. Please follow DUM-E.”

Steve grinned at the awkward robot as it whirred away from them. Bucky emitted a stoic stare and followed begrudgingly. Eighties classic rock was blasting through the speakers of the concrete workshop. Though it was replaced by ambient piano music once the two super soldiers passed through the second set of glass doors.

The white, sterile room was spacious and full of the tech one would expect in a personal lab of Tony Stark. Stainless steel tables, shelves housing tools and equipment, holographic screens displaying graphs and schematics of projects at various phases.

Modern technology was still so overwhelming for Bucky. The last memory he had about anything science or engineering related prior to HYDRA was the Stark Expo the night before he shipped off to war. Before getting captured. Then rescued by Steve. Then captured again. Then rescued by Steve. Again.

Bucky felt his chest tightening at the site of the lab. At the thought of everything he’d missed. Everything that HYDRA took from him. Everything that he had done—

“There they are!” Tony’s voice rang out, breaking Bucky’s thought spiral. “Capsicle and the Manchurian Candidate in the flesh. We almost thought you wouldn’t show. Steve, Bucky, meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N this is Steve and Bucky.”

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, it’s an honour to meet you both,” Y/N said with sincerity, a star-struck twinkle in her eyes for the two war heroes that stood before her. Wiping her palms on her lab coat, she extended her hand to Steve and Bucky.

“Please, call me Steve,” the Avenger said kindly as he shook Y/N’s hand first. “Tony sung high praise of your work. It’s not often he’ll admit defeat, so I was surprised when he told me he’d brought in help for ol’ Buck here.”

Bucky grunted, but extended his flesh hand to Y/N’s. He may be an ex-assassin, but he’d recovered the manners his ma had instilled in him all those decades ago—James Buchanan Barnes would never leave a beautiful woman hanging. And boy, was Y/N beautiful.

“Just Bucky is fine. ‘S nice to meet you too, Y/N,” he forced out, attempting to coax a smile from his tight lips.

“Ok, now that’s out of the way, let’s get to fixing that arm,” Tony pressed.

“I don’t think it’s nec—” but Bucky’s quiet mumbling was immediately cut off by Y/N’s oblivious enthusiasm.

“I’m so excited to show you the plans! If you look at the the mock-up Mr. Stark had originally—”

“Y/N, it’s Tony. You and Peter are going to be the death of me,” the billionaire groaned with a smile.

“Right, sorry, Tony,” Y/N corrected herself as heat flooded her cheeks. “So as I was saying, if you see these points here on Tony’s mock-up, the problem was with the electronic communication between the artificial nervous system and the contact fusing at your shoulder…”

Maybe it was the soothing piano music still playing. Maybe it was the softness in her voice, blanketing the sounds of the lab’s tech like snow muffles the sounds of a city. Maybe it was the warmth of her eyes, like the light at dusk casting everything in a golden shroud. Whatever the reason, Bucky found all the tension easing from his body as Y/N walked them through Tony’s roadblocks and how she removed them.

“...so I think if we just make some adjustments to the automation and how it synchs to the neural networks here, here, and here, that should eliminate the shocks at the connection plates and in turn prevent further nerve pain.”

“I told you she was the best I got. So what do you think, Barnes?” Tony asked proudly.

Then everyone turned to the former Winter Soldier with bated breath.

“O-, o-kay. I’ll try it,” Bucky replied quietly, surprising himself by the speed at which he succumbed to her proposal.

“Yeah? Really?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised in shock, joined by Tony and Steve’s.

The two Avengers had warned her that Bucky would likely resist her efforts. Steve in particular had explained the delicacy of the situation, with only enough detail to not throw Y/N in blind. But she had already read about Bucky’s past well before Steve and Tony approached her. She could fill in the blanks.

Sergeant Barnes was her first crush after learning about him and the Howling Commandos in History class during junior high. Decades later, she felt nothing but compassion for the unimaginable suffering he had been put through when she'd read the documents Natasha Romanoff had released to the government. Then after learning he was in constant physical pain on top of it all and there might be a way she could fix it? Well, it became her personal goal and mission to solve what Tony insisted he couldn’t.

Y/N was the daughter of an old fling-turned-friend of Tony’s from his MIT days. Decades later Tony met Y/N at her mother’s funeral and offered her a job in Stark Industries’s R&D department on the spot. “If you’re half as brilliant as your mother was, you’ll be running the labs within a year,” he’d stated confidently. It took six months of Tony having Pepper send flowers attached to job offers for Y/N to finally accept. It took just three months more before Tony started bringing Y/N up to his personal workshop whenever he was stuck on something.

Around that time Steve had come to Tony asking for help with fixing Bucky’s arm—he’d finished his rehabilitation and been mentally cleared by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical team. Steve had hoped it might also ease the tension between the two men following what the media had dubbed a “civil war” amongst the Avengers. Maybe Bucky could learn that deep down Tony just wanted to protect his team, and Tony could learn that the Winter Soldier and James Buchanan Barnes were not the same person.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Tony had agreed to help. Though he called Y/N in on the project after only a few days. Whether he’d actually hit a block or it was just too soon, he’d never say. But it didn’t matter because Y/N had solved the issues a week later.

Now standing in front of the super soldier after explaining her plan, Y/N couldn’t believe how easy it had been to convince him. “Well, okay then! We can get started right now if you like, or—”

“No, I’m here now. Let’s get it over with.”

“You sure, pal? You can take some time to think about it. Ask questions,” Steve suggested.

“Yeah, I’m sure. She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. If you trust her, and Tony trusts her, then I trust her.”

The two avengers and Y/N all shared a look with each other at Bucky’s unexpected reasoning.

“That’s more words than I’ve heard you string together in the past three months, Tin Man. Y/N, you’re magic! Maybe I should start calling you Glinda the Good Witch of the North with the miracles you’re delivering here.” Y/N just grinned as Tony patted her on the back.

“If I’m Glinda, then you’re the Wizard.”

“I’ll save that role for Strange, thank you very much.” Then he turned to Bucky, and a softness flooded his tone, “I really hope this works for you.”

The usually snarky engineer was offering the ex-assassin a genuine smile and Bucky could feel it.

“Thanks, Tony. Really,” Bucky replied, hoping to convey his own sincerity to the man who didn’t have to forgive him for the pain his alter-ego had caused, yet was attempting to regardless.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve echoed his friend’s sentiments.

“Just looking out for my team. You’re in good hands with Y/N. She’ll have you fixed up in no time, Bucko. Cap, I’ll see you later,” he said, saluting Steve in jest as he exited the lab.

“So, Sergeant—sorry, I mean Bucky. I’ll need you up on this table right here. Are you able to remove the prosthetic? Most of the rewiring and reprogramming will have to be done in isolation.”

Bucky simply nodded. In a quick motion he pulled his shirt half off and detached the silver appendage from his shoulder, allowing a sigh of relief to escape before a faint blush surfaced on his cheeks. “Where should I put it?”

“Oh, right beside you on that platform is perfect. The sensors will read everything from there,” Y/N replied.

Steve blinked at his friend in awe. In the three months since arriving at the compound he’d never seen Bucky so calm and relaxed with a stranger. Let alone comfortable enough to remove half his shirt and his arm in front of them. Heck, not even Steve had been granted that level of intimacy. Suddenly, he felt like a third wheel and he shot a sly grin at his old friend.

“Want me to stay with you, pal?” he asked under his breath, nodding suggestively in Y/N’s direction.

“Up to you,” he replied, rolling his eyes at Steve’s insinuation. “I’m good, though. I’ll be fine.”

“Tony’s still in his workshop, and he’s programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to notify both of you if any of Bucky’s vitals spike while I’m working with him,” Y/N assured the captain, without looking away from the holographic screen. She was clearly oblivious to the silent conversation the two men were having.

The faint rose lingering on Bucky’s cheeks turned a burning crimson that extended towards his neck. Steve chuckled at his friend’s embarrassment.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll leave you to it. Thanks again, Y/N. We really appreciate everything you’re doing. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“It’s my pleasure, Capt— Steve,” she smiled sheepishly, before going back to her 3-D projection of Bucky’s cybernetic arm in front of her. She was clearly in her element and eager to continue working.

“Buck, call me if you need anything. Got it?”

“Got it,” he replied, assuring his friend.

Bucky exhaled long and slow through his nose as he heard the woosh of the glass doors sliding shut. He still struggled with how Steve had immediately absolved him of everything he had done. The agony. The destruction. The death. All at his hands. Steve took every opportunity to remind Bucky that the Winter Soldier wasn’t him. That it was HYDRA who was responsible for it all. That the unadulterated violence wasn’t his fault.

Yet it was Bucky’s own hands he saw when he fell victim to the terrors of sleep each night. Pulling the trigger. Gripping the blade. Silver fingers glinting as they clenched around throats. Twisted necks. Snapped limbs as if they were brittle twigs underfoot.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, her eyes raising to meet his infinite blue irises shrouded behind the dark waves falling around his face.

“Oh yeah, fine. A bit nervous about it all, I guess,” Bucky half-admitted as he brushed his hair out of his face. Her soothing voice calmed his breathing and halted the memories from flooding his vision.

“That’s understandable. Would it help to watch? I don’t mind. I’m about to start on the wiring.”

Bucky considered Y/N’s offer then obliged, hopping off the table to join her on the other end.

It was an odd experience to see his arm disconnected and disassembled. He loathed that part of himself. A constant reminder of his crimes against humanity. And yet watching Y/N tinker with it so delicately—altering it, fixing it—lit the tiniest spark of hope within.

As if hearing the gears turning in his mind she spoke without looking away from her work. “Is this hard to witness?”

Bucky thought about it, caught off guard by her sensitivity to the situation.

“Not hard, no. Weird maybe? But also cathartic,” he explained.

“Huh, how so?” She questioned without a thought as she gently coaxed a blue wire out from the prosthetic’s wrist with a pair of pliers.

“Hmmmmm,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck as he calculated how to answer. He didn’t know why he was so keen on sharing with this woman he had just met, but he was going with it. “That arm symbolizes what they turned me into. What they made me do. I guess when you’ve spent more than half of your life being a monster it’s healing to watch someone change it. Make it something different.”

“You’re not a monster, James. You’re human.”

“If I only had a heart, right?” he tapped on his chest in jest. Y/N set her tool down and turned to face him, looking him deeply in the eye.

“Don’t do that. You’re not actually the Tin Man. You’re Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th regiment. You were held captive, tested on against your will, then tortured and brainwashed by an underground Nazi faction. Then despite all odds, you survived. And now you’re attempting to make amends for atrocities that are not even remotely close to being your fault. You’re not a monster, and you never were. You’re a hero. And you deserve every act of appreciation and kindness. Every gesture of tenderness and love. You deserve to live, James. You deserve life.”

The crimson that had left Bucky’s face took up residence again, his temporary lapse in silence coming to an end. Steve had tried to convince him of his worthiness countless times over. But somehow it was different coming from Y/N. She was an impartial stranger. She didn’t have any obligation to Bucky. She didn’t owe him anything. Which meant these were her honest thoughts. It stirred a flutter deep in Bucky’s core. A warmth he hadn’t felt since 1942.

Reading the effort it was taking for Bucky to process her lecture, she returned to finish the rewiring before moving onto the programming.

The conversation remained in a comfortable lull for a while, him watching her work meticulously with a budding admiration. She started to break the silence every once in a while to ask him where the pain points were and what they felt like. Sometimes tightening aspects of the contact socket on his shoulder. Then she’d return to her minuscule adjustments on the arm, teeth biting down onto her bottom lip in concentration. It was adorable and tied Bucky’s stomach into knots. Eventually she began asking Bucky questions about life before the war, and he was happy to answer. He’d pepper his stories with questions about her childhood, treading lightly around her mother after learning of her death until he saw she was more than happy to share her memories. It was easy talking to Y/N. Comforting.

Two hours later she reattached the final exterior plate and set her tools down, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. “If my mapping was correct, that should do it. Now I just need to connect it to F.R.I.D.A.Y. for reprogramming.” Then she turned to Bucky with an eagerness in her eye. “Before I do that, I had an idea after what you said about feeling like I was making your arm different.”

Bucky was intrigued. “I’m all ears.”

“What if we actually changed it. Like visually. I can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. update the colour during the programming process. What about matte gunmetal grey? Still neutral, but less punchy. No pun intended.”

Bucky grinned at her humour and thoughtfulness. At the idea of his arm finally looking different than it appeared every night in his dreams.

“I’d like that. A lot,” he nodded.

“Great!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. She started typing furiously on the holographic keypad and then instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to begin running the programming. “This will take another hour or so. You can feel free to go and come back… or… we could have tea?”

“Tea sounds nice,” Bucky smiled, running his hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

“Follow me to my secret nook then,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. She led them to the back of the lab that opened to a small alcove boasting floor to ceiling windows overlooking the grounds of the compound. Two black cushioned chairs were angled towards each other separated by a round side table. The counter across from them housed an espresso machine, kettle, and a sink. Bucky sat while she worked on their tea.

“Nice view.”

“Mmhmm. I often sit here when I’m stumped on something. Helps me untangle my ideas and put them back in order.”

“You’re very methodical. I like that.” The attempt at a flirtatious compliment slipped past Bucky’s lips before he had time to rethink it.

“And you’re very observant. I like that.” She shot him a smile that melted his insecurities as well as his heart. Another look like that and you’re a goner, Barnes.

“Here’s your tea. I realized I didn’t ask, but I added a touch of honey. I hope that’s ok.”

“‘S perfect,” he assured her, snapping out of his internal dialogue. “Thanks.”

The two chatted more about their personal histories. Pop culture and historical events Bucky had missed, which ones he needed to catch up on and which ones he could easily avoid. They were laughing at a story Bucky was recounting from when he and Steve were kids when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed them the programming was complete.

“Let’s go check out your new arm,” she grinned, extending her hand to take his empty mug.

Bucky’s stomach was doing backflips. But it righted itself as soon as he saw it resting on the platform where Y/N had been working. The new satin finish muted the shine of the now dark grey appendage. The red star was gone. It looked like a completely different prosthetic and the sight of it stopped Bucky’s heart and stole his breath from his chest.

“What do you think?” she asked with a satisfied look once she had reviewed the completion report from F.R.I.D.A.Y. still projected on the translucent screen.

“It’s… It looks incredible. Can I try it?” Bucky asked meekly, his breath shaky and overcome with emotion.

“Of course! Do you want help?”

“No, that’s ok. I’d like to do it,” he managed out.

She nodded, seeing how much this moment meant to him.

He took off his shirt and lifted the cybernetic left arm to his shoulder. A hush fell over the lab and even F.R.I.D.A.Y. seemed to have paused her processes in anticipation. Bucky closed the final inch between the contact plates and the arm whirred as it came to life. He whipped it in a circle once to settle the joint and ensure everything was connected. Then he repeatedly stretched and clenched the metal digits as he twisted his forearm back and forth.

A sniff escaped him and he quickly brushed his cheek under the guise of fixing his hair from his face.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” Y/N asked, concerned by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“It’s… it’s the first time it hasn’t hurt since I was… since... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Knowing it worked is all I wanted.” Y/N was glowing with satisfaction.

Suddenly Bucky was wrapping his arms around her before he could stop himself. “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. But I’m gonna try.”

“You don’t need to repay me, Bucky. You deserve this.” She breathed a sigh of relief as Bucky attempted to convey his elation via the embrace.

Tony smiled to himself as he caught a glimpse of the two through the glass doors from his workshop. “Ol’ Tin Man has a heart after all. I told you she could do it, F.R.I.”

“That you did, boss. That you did.”

┉✪┉

Part II

[quietmyfearswith]

little activities ; preferences

warnings —none??? fluff?? ddlg dynamics, do not interact if you don’t like it

characters — daddy!andy barber, daddy!steve rogers, daddy!bucky barnes, daddy!lance tucker,  daddy!clark kent, daddy!august walker

a/n — THIS IS A FIC WITH DDLG DYNAMICS,, do not interact if youre not 18+,, just a little something i put together today... lmk what you think!

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons | obssessed |little rules | innocent little | bratty little

masterlist

“Dada, I have a good one!” Y/N happily cheered while her mouth had a spoonful of her favorite ice cream flavor; seeing her excited state made him chuckle as he wiped the excess melted sundae that escaped her mouth, “Petal you know the rule — don’t talk while eating, yes?” She just nodded happily despite being given a stern reminder as she was too excited to share with him what she knows. After swallowing down the rest of her tasty desert, she repeated to him with a wide grin, “I have a good one, dada! What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the supply closet?” Pursing his lips, he pretended to rack his brain for an answer; but when nothing came up he shrugged his shoulders as his arms pulled in her figure closer to him despite her being all snuggled up on his lap. Throwing her hands up in the air to emphasize her pun as she happily cheered, “Supplies!”

“That was a good one, petal,” Andy praised her after he calmed himself following his burst of giggles. Feeling proud of getting him to laugh out loud, she then nuzzled her face into his chest while one of his hands gently rubbed her back. “I have one too but I don’t think it’ll be as good as yours,” This intrigued her so she removed her face from where she planted it against his chest and pouted, “Wanna hear it, dada! Bet it’s a real good one!” He calmed her down by rubbing her back and placing quick kisses on her lips, “Okay okay, here it is — have you heard about the chocolate record player?” Adorably confused with what he was saying, she shook his head no until he broke out of his serious expression and smiled, “I heard it sounds sweet!” It took her a few seconds to connect the dots; but when she finally did she excitedly squealed out loud and peppered his face with kisses as she wrapped her arms around his torso, “That was so good, dada! I love you and your jokes!”

“Where are you in the game, little one?” August peered over his shoulder to sneak a peek in her own laptop screen; when she saw how he was looking at where she was going, she tilted her screen away from his curious eyes, “Don’t look, daddy! Do your task!” Her Among Us avatar that was in her favorite character was happily skipping around the halls as she was assigned as the impostor, and when she saw another player — who wasn’t her beloved boyfriend — she grinned evilly as she killed the other player. She then happily skipped to the next corridor and entered the electrical room where August’s avatar was. “There you are, little one!” August pointed to the screen as his excited eyes shifted from the screen to where your two avatars were and to her, “Daddy! Keep playing!”

Unfortunately for her, someone saw the body that she had earlier killed. This then prompted everyone to have a meeting, “Wonder who the impostor could be?” August thought out loud as he covertly snuck a glance over to his girl who was biting her lip to try and hold back her fit of giggles. He placed his bet that it was his little one who’s the impostor; feigning innocence she voted on her daddy being the impostor. When it was revealed to the whole crew that Y/N was the impostor, August carried her off  the computer chair and onto his lap as he tickled her tummy, “I knew it was you!” She giggled as his bearded face tickled her neck and instead of pulling him closer to him as she nuzzled him further into him, “Can we play one more game, daddy?” Feeling him shake his head against her skin, one hand turned off both their laptops while the other one held onto her body to ensure she wouldn’t fall off. “We’ve been playing for a few hours now, you need to rest these pretty eyes,” He kissed both her eyelids as she lovingly stared at him, “So what do we do now, daddy?” Having planned out what happens next, the Hammer then carried her out of the office and to the kitchen, “Well little one, I’m gonna give you some snacks before we nap for a bit okay?” Nodding as she nuzzled her forehead against his neck, she let out a low hum of agreement as she felt the exhaustion of playing Among Us start to take a toll on her.

“Tătic, can we dance?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes; having played with her stuffies bored her and she had a lot of energy to shake off. Locking the tablet, he placed it on the couch beside him as he looked down at his little love who was sitting by his feet as she played independently. “Bored with playing with your stuffies already, sweetie?” She pouted and nodded, holding both her hands as she closed and opened them. Laughing to himself, he grabbed onto her hands, helping her rise to her feet before doing the same, “Let’s dance then!” Giddily, she headed to the corner of the room where they placed their speakers, “Which song do you want, tătic?” As she was unlocking their gadget that was connected to the speakers, Bucky then grinned as he was putting her stuffies on the couch, to help prevent them from being stepped on, “Put our dance playlist on shuffle, sweetie.”

The first few songs that played were energetic songs which allowed them to boogie — Bucky had an excuse to do the moonwalk across the wooden floor flawlessly, or how Y/N bust out her disco moves while the super soldier cheered her on; there was even a song that allowed the both of them to shimmy in front of each other as they laughed at their silly expressions as they did so. However, a few songs, a slow, piano melody hummed through speakers, shifting the mood of the room from an energetic one to a more slow, intimate melody. “Do you want to slow dance with me, sweetheart?” Giggling at how formal hw sounded, she nodded and her one hand entangled with his bionic hand while her other hand rested against his the wide expanse of his back. The flesh hand of the super soldier was caressing the skin of her cheek, he stared lovingly at her, “Did you have fun dancing, sweetie?” Nodding, she smiled and stood on her tippy toes so she could plant a sweet, swift kiss, then pulling away with a wide smile, “I did, tătic! Thank you so much for dancing with me! Can we do this all the time?” Loving how sweet and obedient she was being, he nodded and promised her, “We’ll be dancing together for a long time you'll get so sick of me!”

“Now remember doll, a certain color has its own number,” Steve explained slowly as he pointed to the closed paint container which had the number one taped to it , “Where would this color go in the picture of the giraffe?” Pouting for a bit, she was itching to get her hands dirty and colorful but her daddy decided it was important to lecture her about colors and numbers. “Sir, I wanna paint right now, please!” She batted her eyelashes sweetly to him in hopes that he would put an end to his lesson; but a raised eyebrow and his finger tapping the certain section made it clear that he was nowhere near ending it, “Answer me first, doll, then we can start painting together.”

“That white paint would then go to the ears of the giwaffe,” She struggled to say the animal’s name but correctly identified where the white colorant would go. The Captain kissed her cheek, to which she giggled at as she nuzzled her cheek against his lips, as he praised her, “Good doll! And where would this mustard yellow go?” Pointing to the number four paint, she then was eager to be kissed and praised again so she looked at the paper seriously before pointing to near the animal’s nose, “It goes right over here, sir!” Rubbing her back as he then handed her the paintbrush, he kissed her lips lovingly as he gave her the go signal, “Alright go ahead and paint, doll. And don’t make too much of a mess, alright?” Nodding her head, she then opened the paint then dipped the tip paint brush as she began filling in the blanks with color as she spoke to her daddy with a wide smile, “Thank you so much for this, sir. I love painting with you.” And with one hand on her thigh, occasionally rubbing and squeezing it to encourage her, Steve too began painting his own paint-by-numbers kit.

“And what would be your order, Mr. Superman?” She asked after she pretended to clean up the countertop where her play doh and ice cream play set were; the Kansas-raised man chuckled at his bubba’s silly antics. For today’s playtime she decided to pretend she was running an ice cream shop and he was a customer; pretending to think for what to order, he then smiled as he announced his order, “I’d like some vanilla ice cream please, with some chocolate syrup,” She nodded as she began pouring the white clay doh in the machine, pressing down on it as she sweetly smiled at him, “How’s your day going, handsome?”

“Very well now that you’re here, beautiful,” He winked back at her as she finished twirling the ice cream, she bit her lip to hold herself back from rejecting the compliment he had given her – the last time she shied away from a compliment graced to her, he had punished her with less playtime and by writing multiple lines about how beautiful she was. After squirting some chocolate syrup on the clay doh, she stuck a little spoon to it then pushed it to Clark’s direction, “Here you go, bubba.” Pretending to take a few, big bites of the ice cream she had prepared for him. “This tastes divine, bubba!” He praised her after he beckoned her to sit on his lap from where he was seated comfortably in the bar chairs. Leaning on to him, she hummed satisfied until the Kyrptonian spoke up after rubbing the back of her neck, “That reminds me; how much do I owe you for the delicious ice cream you just prepared?” Giggling at his silly antics, she looked up at him with a smile, “It’s on the house for the earth’s strongest hero!” Gasping out loud as if he was offended, Clark shook his head then kissed the tip of her nose, “Unacceptable! How ‘bout I take you out to get real ice cream?” Excitedly, she nodded and sprinted to the bedroom to get changed and the hero could only chuckle to himself as he followed her, “God, I love my bubba.”

“There we go, angel,” Lance tossed the red colored chalk to the side after writing the number nine, “Now we play hopscotch!” He declares with a wide smile. Y/N then jumps up and down as she cheered happily; bending down to grab a rock, she then looked at her boyfriend, “How do we do it again papa?” Lance thought she was adorable when she tilted her head to the side, eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. Picking up his own rock, he then stood beside her, “I’m gonna show you how to do so okay, angel?” She nodded as watched him closely as the gymnast threw the rock within their playing field, landing on the number five. “Since it landed on the number five, I have to skip to and from the whole thing without stepping on the box with rock on it.” And with that he skipped along to show her what she meant and expertly hopped along.

“That was amazing, papa!” Y/N clapped her hands but pouted when the rock’s rough edges lightly grazed the skin of her fingers, “Is it my turn now?” He nodded as he gestured to their chalked up board and she excitedly nodded and threw the rock into their playing field. The rock landed on the number eight, “Papa, look! I get it farther than you!” Her delight was mirrored by his excited grin and cheering for her as she skipped on the numbers, praising her when she wobbled for a bit when jumping from the numbers six and seven to the last two squares. “Good job, my angel! You were so good!” The gymnast easily carried her off the ground as he twirled her around as she giggled and kissed his lips, “Thank you, papa. Can we go for more rounds on the hopscatch?” And Lance didn’t find the heart in him to reject her, especially with the way she messed up the words, and so they did play all afternoon the fun game of hopscotch.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Couch Trip (Ritchie, 1988)

This review contains mild spoilers.

I like Dan Aykroyd. By definition, you can’t hate someone who is simultaneously a Blues Brother, a Ghostbuster, and a Doctor (Detroit). But with the exception of The Blues Brothers, literally the one time he has ever been close to cool, he’s hopelessly lame, and those other movies understand that. Aykroyd has a tendency to make a certain face, a smile with his eyebrows raised but without any wryness, that’s usually a signal that you’re in trouble, that the movie will present his lameness but not grasp the implications of said lameness. He makes that face on the poster of The Couch Trip, and it’s no surprise that he’s the movie’s biggest weakness. The plot is about an escaped mental patient who’s mistakenly hired to fill in for a psychiatrist’s radio show when the host decides to go on a much needed sabbatical and insists the hire the head of the institution where Aykroyd is being held. This scenario presents a double switcharoo, in that Aykroyd is believed to be the stern but ineffectual head of the institution played by David Clennan, and also becomes better received than the show’s original host Charles Grodin. Aykroyd does plenty of unconventional things like swear on air, hold a free therapy day for his listeners, takes a bunch of them to a baseball game, and generally takes the air out of the stuffed shirts around him with his wisecracking and unusual methods. (I should note that like Grodin’s later switcharoo comedy Taking Care of Business, this too makes reference to the the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series. But that is a more central element to the latter movie’s narrative, and what is suggested as an impossibility here becomes reality in the latter movie.)

If you replace psychiatry with the army, this might seem a little bit like Bill Murray in Stripes, and Aykroyd seems to be hitting a lot of the same notes, even with his vocal delivery. The difference is that Murray is cool and Aykroyd very much is not, and that Murray is able to imbue the material with a genuine irreverence while Aykroyd seems to be going through the motions. This is directed by Michael Ritchie, who is unable to use Aykroyd as astutely as he used Chevy Chase in Fletch, where the star’s laconic presence mixes interestingly with the energy of the noirish plot. (Chase makes a brief appearance here in a commercial as a dad proud of his son’s choice of condoms. I laughed.) The movie also gives Aykroyd a potential love interest in Donna Dixon, who must be channeling feelings from their real life marriage as she regales him with longing gazes, because there’s little onscreen to explain the attraction. Yet at the same time, this material can inspire a Pavlovian response in the viewer. You get Aykroyd on the air, dropping words like “balls”, “son of a bitch”, “asshole” and “fuck” (all of which send his producers into a panic over possible FCC fines), and I can’t help but hoot and holler at least a little bit on the inside. Take that, psychiatric profession! It goes without saying that the movie’s view of mental illness is not terribly nuanced, and it tries to insert some sentiment with the inclusion of a street preacher type played by Walter Matthau. I don’t think the attempt is successful, but Matthau is still funny in the role.

I watched this movie to chase Last Resort, the dirt cheap Roger-Corman-produced vacation comedy starring Charles Grodin, and my primary motivation in watching this was more Grodin. That other movie is not well made by traditional standards, but it understands that the more Grodin you have, the better your movie is. The whole thing is an extremely contrived, poorly-thought-out series of scenes designed to grind Grodin’s gears, and becomes an almost free-associative string of the kind of facial expressions and line readings that only Grodin could deliver. If one could step into the dreams of the real Charles Grodin, Inception-style, I’d wager it would look like this. This is a lesson that The Couch Trip does not grasp at first but tries to atone for in the third act. The fact is, aside from the initial setup, Grodin disappears for much of the movie, but when he returns, he overcompensates, going on a rampage as he seeks revenge on Aykroyd for upstaging him and taking his money and his lawyer and friend Richard Romanus for sleeping with his wife Mary Gross. In Grodin’s absence, the movie is relatively middling, but it’s worth checking out just to see him approach the maniacal and unhinged heights of his work in Clifford.

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.10

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no way 

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for a surprise when her british exchange student is a little...odd. 

warnings (AYO please pay attention to these this time it’s not just swearing): swearing, underage drinking (no i do not condone this ig), beginning elements of smut but def not too explicit, i think you can consider it dubcon ?? if both people are drunk bc i don’t think you can actually consent if youre drunk (plz rest assured tho they are both 18 hehe)

a/n: “hey where did this come from” yeah so hey yall ive never written such an intense scene before but i’ve spent so much time w these characters that i decided i kind of had to. there’s no like...real sex in this and i don’t imagine that i’d describe it in this much detail if i ever decided to write it but um.. anyways. i hope y’all enjoy. thanks for suffering for this long ! i hope i’ve made it worth it 

word count: 4k

music recs: 

cloud 9 -- beach bunny

the adults are talking -- the strokes

anything from the strokes tbh 

tags ! :) @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

“Thank fucking god for the generator,” said Y/N as she flew around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together in her quest to make New Year’s Eve breakfast. Draco was sitting, unamused and completely silent, at the table. They’d been snowed in for a few days now with her parents nowhere near able to make it to the suburbs. For some reason, the entire city of Cincinnati had decided that the day before Christmas was the best time to schedule maintenance on literally every single one of their plows. “Can you imagine living here without heat? Or power? I’d die.”

Draco hummed in response. A glance over confirmed that he was deep in thought, a scarlet colored letter clutched firmly in his hand (hello, Nathaniel Hawthorne). Jealousy curdled inside of her as her thoughts turned to a dark place--it was Pansy, that Pansy Parkinson. 

Knowing her intuition, she was probably his grandmother or something. Why else would she have written so many letters?

After she finished plating all of the pancakes, she allowed herself to sneak a peek at the envelope. 

Astoria Greengrass

She frowned. Astoria? She’d never seen that name before. 

“What is this?” asked Draco as he picked up his fork to poke at the pancake on his plate.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Have you never had a pancake before?”

“A pancake?” He gave his plate a stern look. “It looks...like a soggy pastry.”

“Fuck you, I made that,” responded Y/N. “Try it with butter and maple syrup. And then tell me it’s a soggy pastry.”

She took out her fork and knife, demonstrating very clearly what she meant as she spread butter over the top of her pancake. She’d learned that Draco was too proud to ask what she meant when she introduced him to American/muggle foods--the last time he tried to deduce something himself, he ended up pouring ketchup over the top of his hamburger bun instead of actually putting it on the patty. 

A sense of satisfaction flowed into her as she saw him follow suit, spreading the warmed butter and dipping a cut piece in syrup. He raised it to his lips, taking a delicate bite.

“Americans really have this for breakfast?”

“Yeah…is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He grimaced. “This isn’t breakfast. This is dessert food.”

“God, your life must be so sad back home,” said Y/N. “What does your family make you eat--just straight unbuttered bread under the guise of it being a real breakfast food? Do they let you dip it in your unsweetened, weak tea if you’re good?”

He scoffed. “You have no idea how I live back at home.”

“And, judging from this conversation, I don’t have any desire to know any more.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Y/N smiled when she saw Draco reach for a second pancake.

“Two desserts? Draco, I know it’s New Year’s, but don’t get too off the hinges,” she teased. 

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell her was fighting back a smile. “Speaking of which, how do you celebrate New Year’s?”

Draco looked up and met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“How do you celebrate tonight? With your family or your friends, or your...whatever.” The cold reality of the fact that she did not really know if he was dating someone back home set in.

“Oh, I don’t usually. It’s not really a big thing in the magical community,” he mused, unaware of her sudden panic.

“Well,” she said. “I always celebrate New Year’s with my friends. I didn’t tell you this sooner because I didn’t think that you were going to be here, but I’m kind of hosting a party here tonight. With anyone who can walk here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of his tea. “Will it be like the Halloween party at Sylvia’s?”

“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Do you mean, will there be drinking?”

He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

“There definitely can be,” she continued, her smile widening. “Last year we played this dumb drinking game over this card game--if you lost, you took a shot. It was fun. We could do that again.”

She settled down to eat, digging into two of the pancakes. They were really good--she wasn’t Gordon Ramsay by any means, but she did breakfast food pretty well. But at the mention of her friends, a realization hit her. “Oh. Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

“Um, can I tell you something?” 

He dipped his head in recognition while Y/N cleared her throat.

“So, um, I forgot about this,” she began, “but while you were gone, I kind of had to scramble to figure out what to tell everyone about why we were avoiding each other before you left. And why you left so suddenly and why I didn’t know.”

He was still watching her in curious silence. 

“So, I really didn’t want to slip up or say anything about...you.” Y/N paused to take a sip of her tea, deciding to not try to look at Draco again. “So I decided to tell Sylvia and Lizzy that I told you my feelings for you and you didn’t return them.”

A clang startled her enough to look up. Draco was staring, completely frozen. His fork had fallen into the syrup on his plate, handle and all.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“I mean, oh, fuck. Um.” She smiled at him, hoping it was going to distract from her audible stumble. “Obviously, I made it all up. I mean, both sides! But what’s important is that they bought it, and now they’re probably going to give you a little shit for not liking me ‘back’. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Made it all up, huh?” His voice had a surprisingly teasing lilt. 

“Yes, that is in fact what I said,” she responded, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt hot.

“Is it really now?” 

“Draco!” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back. I need a new fork.”

“Just wipe off the handle of the one you have now--Draco, why are you getting up? Stop!”

~ 

To her disappointment, none of her friends were able to show. Sylvia and Lizzy made a concerted effort to try and convince their family to let them brave the walk, but once another flurry started up outside, it was hopeless. Her face turned pink whenever she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even needed to tell Draco the thing that made her slip up in the first place. 

Y/N, disappointed but not surprised, told Draco that she still wanted to celebrate, even if it was just with him. He’d snorted at this--asking her why she made it seem like such a burden--but once she produced a yellow glass bottle and a deck of cards and told him she bet that she was going to beat his sorry ass, he caved.

She started with a heavy lead, but once Draco learned the rules and strategies of the slightly convoluted Go Fish game, he proved to be a worthy match. They played until around 11:45 when the bottle was about 3/4 full and Y/N was feeling the pleasant warmth of being slightly intoxicated. Once she noticed the time, she threw her cards on the table. 

“Let’s watch the ball drop,” Y/N said with no further explanation, even when Draco looked to her for one. She grabbed the bottle and his hand, pulling him up the stairs to her room. The remote control for her TV was a struggle to find--it was all the way tucked back in her nightstand drawer--but thankfully the channel was already set. 

“You forgot the cups,” Draco said, staring down at the opened bottle held in his hand.

“You can get them if you want,” she managed.

“You should! You forgot them.”

“Too far,” she whined, flopping to lean back on her pillows while Draco followed suit. His hair smelled like peppermint. Without much more thought, she moved close enough that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t move away--instead, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink directly. 

“Your New Year’s traditions are weird as fuck,” he murmured as he watched Savannah Guthrie on the screen. He didn’t have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and it seemed like he knew this.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard it all yet,” said Y/N. “We’ve got a tradition to kiss someone going into the New Year. New Year’s kiss, I guess. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of drama that creates.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You don’t have to be dating to kiss someone, sometimes people just...do it. As friends.” Y/N reached over to the bottle and took a swig herself, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.

“Take it easy,” he tutted, pulling the bottle away from her before taking another drink himself. 

“Hey! Says you!”

“Because I can actually hold my liquor well,” he teased, giving her a shove.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You just kept getting worse and worse at whatever that game was,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Give it here,” she said, reaching across his chest to where he was holding the bottle, out and above his head. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much this side of him filled her with glee. “That’s not fair!”

“Not fair, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes as he held it up even further into the air. His voice was startlingly low. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Before she could muster up a response, the TV began playing the audio for the New Year’s Countdown.

10!

Y/N wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer--or if he was just...flirting?

9!

He managed to set the bottle on her nightstand without taking his eyes off of her.

8!

The hand she had used to reach across him with was now pressed into his side of the bed, supporting her as she hovered over him.

7!

Without moving any part of her body, she dared to glance at his parted lips.

6!

Maybe telling him about the kiss tradition was a stupid idea.

5!

His hand, warm and soft,  reached up to brush a piece of hair away from her cheekbone. 

4! 

His fingers lingered on the outline of her jaw.

3!

2!

1!

He was kissing her before the cheers from the TV even had the chance to bounce around the room, both hands cupping her face and pulling her in so desperately that it took her breath away.

Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, and then, eventually his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. They started out innocently enough--closed mouth kisses and only their hands touching each other above the shoulders--but once she tugged on his hair (mostly by accident) something...shifted. 

Suddenly he was on top of her, and suddenly her leg was wrapped around him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It occurred to her that this was no longer just a New Year’s kiss. He tasted of lemon and sugar--and was notably better at what he was doing than any of the people she’d kissed before. Or maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgement. Regardless, she liked whatever was going on. His hands had drifted from her face to her neck to her hair to her shoulder, gently tracing the outline of her bra strap. She brushed her hand down his chest, pulling gently at the collar on his shirt. Only when his leg pressed up into her and her breath hitched did she realize the weight of their situation.

The way he pulled away to hover over her signaled that he’d had the same revelation, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Dread crept into her despite the pleasant haze she was in. 

He swallowed, hard. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Draco was on the other side of the bed in seconds, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on her floor. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t know if he wanted her to touch him, but she wanted so badly to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Did you not want...it?”

He scoffed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “I had too much to drink. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she fell back on the bed.

That’s all it was. A drunken mistake. 

Tears pricked at her eyes as she surveyed her options. Despite the fact that she was drunk off her ass, she knew she couldn’t just tell him to leave without making her feelings clear. She never explicitly told him that she wanted him and it wasn’t like she moaned his name or anything--thank god--but what other option did she have? She didn’t want to cry in front of him, and if he stayed in her room any longer he would without a doubt witness her alcohol induced cry fest. 

NBC finally switched to ads, and Y/N granted herself permission to mourn the fact that Flo from Progressive would forever be ruined for her. 

It was dark enough for her to quickly reach up and wipe her eyes undetected, granting her enough confidence to sit up and look at him directly. “You don’t get to just...kiss me like that. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together and rested on his nose. “Fuck. Of course I know.”

“But you can tell me you meant it to be just as friends,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t see how hard she was fighting back a new wave of tears. 

“As friends,” he repeated, his tone flat. 

“As friends,” she said. 

“I don’t think either of us are daft enough to believe that.” 

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe things are different in America, but I don’t see you doing that sort of thing with Lizzy.”

“We can forget about this. It’s fine. I know you regret it.”

He exhaled, his breath long and shaky. “I didn’t stop because I regretted it.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because…”

“Is it because I’m a muggle?” His silence was everything she needed for an answer. “Okay. I had a feeling.”

“Y/N, it’s not like...I don’t know how to explain it.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” 

“About this!” he said, dramatically gesturing to her. “About everything!”

“I don’t understand.” The tears began pricking in the corners of her eyes again despite her best efforts. 

Draco finally looked at her. She was shocked by how genuinely distressed he looked--the last time he looked at her like this, she’d been laying on the ground outside of the antique sore. “I don’t expect you to.”

His tone was low, careful. He was holding back.

“Can you just tell me how you feel about me, then? Just so I know?”

“It’s not that--” He stopped himself, sucking in another breath before he continued. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right of me.” He groaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “I meant it when I said that we could just forget about it. We’re friends, Draco. Just friends. I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s just pretend this never happened, ok?”

He was quiet for a bit before responding. “Did you...want me to kiss you? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“As in, did you want me to stop?”

“Oh.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “You didn’t violate me if you’re asking to gauge how guilty you should be.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“Okay,” she said simply. He was still laying in her bed, and she hated the fact that her bed was going to smell like him until she washed everything. 

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer.”

“We’re friends, Draco.” She sent him a weak smile as she repeated her previous sentiment. “I trust you, so you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” 

She was aware of the fact that her sentence didn’t exactly track, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with the literary quality of her speech.

“That still doesn’t answer my other question.”

“I…” She felt her throat dry up. “I want--I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a while now.” 

At this, he finally sat up and looked her in the eyes. She thought she could see the briefest glint of relief pass over his face before he managed to rein it back to a neutral expression.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around, yeah?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she snipped, hoping he caught on to her mocking. She’d missed sparring with him. 

“Yes, I kissed you because I wanted to, not for some weird ulterior motive,” he responded, rolling his eyes despite the fact that his cheeks were clearly very pink, even in her dimly lit room. “Though I agree it’s best if we just stayed friends.”

“Yeah.” She felt her face fall, but she managed to catch it before she looked too devastated. “It’s all water under the bridge. Now we know not to drink together again.”

“That too.” He shifted, clearing his throat before making eye contact with her again with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “But the damage is already done, I suppose?”

“I suppose,” she echoed. “You wanted to kiss me? Actually?”

“Should we really talk about this? After what we just said about staying friends?”

“We’re going to feel regret tomorrow morning no matter what we do now, “ said Y/N. “Might as well.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles--the ones where his eyes went all soft and he dipped his head to hide it. “Yes. I really do. Want to kiss you, that is.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” she blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

His smile morphed into more of a smirk as he crept closer, his hand resting on top of her knee. “So can I do it again?”

“Draco…” She sighed.

“The damage is already done,” he repeated as he reached his hand up to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers dragging down her neck. The smug look that formed on his face after she drew a quick breath in confirmed that he knew what he was doing, that fucker. “You said it yourself--we’re just friends.”

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning if I say yes.”

 Draco’s hand drifted over her jaw, his thumb pausing to trace over her bottom lip. “You can hate me instead.” 

This time, it didn’t surprise her so much when he leaned in. He was notably less desperate, taking time to draw breaths in between kisses and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted her chin and brushed the hair away from her neck, kissing down from her jaw to her collarbone. She shivered, and he drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her until she was sitting on his lap.

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Draco,” she managed to joke. She could feel the smirk that formed on his lips as it passed over her clavicle.

 “Shut up.” His teeth grazed over her delicate skin before he sucked, eliciting a gasp from her. She could feel him smile again. 

His hands teased the bottom hemline of her sweater, his fingers tangling in the fabric but not moving it. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hands ghost over her skin. 

“Are you okay with…”

“Yes!” The answer came out much quicker than she would’ve liked, but the grin on Draco’s face made it completely worth the momentary embarrassment as he helped her out of the thick cable-knit sweater. “Now is your chance to dote on me and tell me how beautiful I am. As a friend, of course.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he said. He looked like he was positively glowing as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep. His hands found her back and hesitated over her bra clasp.

Before he had a chance to do anything, Y/N started fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt, successfully undoing the first two before she noticed that Draco had frozen completely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Maybe...not now, okay?”

“I had a feeling that was too much,” she admitted, reaching for her top before realizing he’d tossed it across her bedroom floor and suddenly feeling very exposed.

“It’s not that…” he said, trailing off. “I just...should probably tell you some things before my shirt comes off. And I don’t think tonight is the best time for that.”

“Oh.” Y/N tried to make herself look like she understood whatever he was on about. “Yeah, of course. Oh! Is it about that tattoo you tried to gaslight me into believing didn’t exist?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t gaslight you!”

“Here you go again,” she huffed. “I rest my case.” 

“And I am not getting into that now,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk about it for very good reason.” 

She reached up to his shoulders, dragging her fingertips over his collarbones and watching as he gazed up at her. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The corners of his lips turned up at this, and she took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I think we should go to sleep. We have enough material to regret for tomorrow at this point. Any more and I think we’ll be getting greedy, so--”

Draco cut her off with one last kiss, his fingers splayed out across her back, pulling her impossibly close before finally releasing her.

“Agreed.” He let out a sigh before sliding her off him and standing up to grab her runaway sweater. “Do you want to sleep in this? Or do you want me to get you something else from your dresser while I’m up?”

“Um…” She was frozen at the prospect of him watching her change clothes. “Probably something else. Top left drawer--just pick whatever.”

He sifted through her piles of random T-shirts before settling on one with the UChicago logo and tossing it to her. 

Y/N pulled it over her head, grateful for the fact that he wasn’t staring at her with only a black lace bra that barely did its job. 

“So, uh, I think I should probably go then,” he said. 

She fought the urge to ask him to stay. “Yeah, that’d be best.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he closed it and frowned. “So I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to agonizing over this in the morning.”

Once the sounds of his footsteps heading down the hall faded, she finally allowed herself to flop back onto her now Draco-scented sheets.

What the fuck just happened.

final a/n: hellooooooo ! it finally happened! i hope this didn’t seem rushed or unnatural to you guys but like. it’s been over 30k words and i thought you guys deserved something. yes i am going to be leaning into the whole “we’re just friends” trope while definitely not being just friends. yes i am going to drag astoria into this i’m excited i hope yall enjoyed

[moonlighttfoxx]

The girl with the golden eyes: Chapter Four

Summary: Y/N’s come to some realizations

 Warnings: jealous Steve, smut, dry humping, Bucky, Sam 

A/N: I’d appreciate some comments and tips! :) 

Steve couldn’t wait to spend some time at the gym. Boy, did he need that. Lately he needed it more than ever. He was extremely angry recently. And extremely horny. Not that he would ever admit it. Not even to himself. It certainly didn’t help that his best friend was a huge pain in the butt too. But some gym time would surely do him good. He could at least blow off some steam.

‘Hey, Cap, going to hit the gym?’ Sam’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Steve turned his head around to his left, where his friend was standing now.

‘Yeah, I am. And what are you up to?’

‘Same.’ Sam said shortly. Steve nodded and they fell into somewhat comfortable silence, walking side by side in the direction of the gym.

‘Hey guys! Wait up!’ Bucky’s voice echoed in the empty hallway. Steve rolled his eyes. As much as he adored his best friend, he needed just a little break from him. ‘I’m going to the gym as well’ he said once he caught up with them.

‘Sooo, game night tonight, huh?’ Sam started, obviously attempting to ease the tension that had suddenly filled in the air around them. ‘I wonder what the game will be this time’

‘Probably some Truth or Dare or something like that. I heard Nat talking.’ Bucky answered.

‘Truth or Dare?’ Steve asked.

‘Yeah, you pick one and they either ask you a question, usually an embarrassing one, that you need to answer truthfully or they give you some sort of task to do, again an embarrassing one or maybe a naughty one and you have to do it, you can’t refuse once you’ve agreed to play.’ Sam explained, knowing his friend being over a hundred years old probably had never played that game before. Well, of course it was Nat’s idea. She usually picked those type of games.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few naughty tasks’ said Bucky. Of course he wouldn’t. Especially if they involved Y/N.

‘We know’ Sam answered, opening the gym door. The three men entered.

‘Oh God’ Sam whispered. ‘Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes…’

Steve wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so he looked up and let his eyes travel around. It didn’t take long before he found the source of Sam’s admiration. Y/N. Of course. She had laid a purple yoga mat on the floor in the corner. She had changed the baggy shirt she was wearing earlier to black sports bra and tight yoga pants of the same color that hugged her hips and defined her ass perfectly. She was currently warming up, Steve assumed or maybe doing some yoga, based on the position she was in. And she was a sight for sore eyes indeed. She was on her hands and feet, stretching with her ass high up in their direction. As if she was trying to torture whoever walked in that gym, begging for attention. She must’ve been doing it on purpose. It was like it was her mission to make him fantasize and think of her. As if it was her mission to make him hard all the time whenever she was in the same room as him. And as if sexual frustration wasn’t enough, she had the same effect over other men as well, which was driving Steve crazy even more. For no apparent reason. Uh.

Now, seeing her in that position, what man in his right mind, wouldn’t just want to go behind her, slide down her pants, revealing that perfect ass and lose himself in the warmth of her depths, stretching her out. Now, wouldn’t that just be nice.

‘Mmm… it’s a sight, alright’ Steve heard Bucky whisper next to him. There it was again – the anger. But Steve was tired of feeling that so he decided to keep it under control this time and instead of thinking too much about it and her for that matter, to actually focus on his workout. So he ignored Bucky’s comment and went over the closest punching bag, not far from where Y/N was, starting his training, his punches slow at first.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bucky moving in her direction, so that made him circle his punching bag a little, positioning himself, so he could subtly watch what was going to happen. For no apparent reason again.

   __________________________________________________________

You were doing your yoga routine in the gym. Lord knows you needed it. You needed to get full control of your body and mind again. It was definitely an eventful morning, especially after your encounter with Steve. You discovered something about yourself you didn’t know existed: your attraction to Steve. You usually tried to be as far away from him as possible, because you knew he wasn’t very fond of you. And he was right not to be, he didn’t trust you. He had to protect his team, therefore trusting people came hard for him. And after everything you’ve been through, you fully understооd him. If you were him, you’d be the same way. That’s why you decided to give him space until he warms up to you and sees you were no threat whatsoever. You kept your distance, but this morning you were put face to face with him. Both literally and figuratively.

It was just then you noticed how handsome he was. He had the perfect and yet manly features. Everything in him screamed perfection – from his dirty blonde hair to the thin line of his lips. Absolute perfection. He was usually so composed all the time – his expression stern, hiding all the thoughts running in his head behind a pair of stormy eyes, his hair tidily put back, his beard, which was a new occurrence, always perfectly trimmed. But you could tell that this morning his guard was down. Probably because he was still sleepy, his hair was a mess and yet it was still perfect in every way and for the first time since you had joined the team, you could see that the storm in his eyes was quiet. No, there was something else instead, something deep, intense and powerful, something that made those perfect eyes even more blue than they were. You had no idea what it was, but you knew you wouldn’t mind a taste of it. As unwilling you were to admit it, this morning for the very first time you noticed Steve Rogers and that awakened a new craving for you that would haunt you for a very long time if not for the rest of your life, you were sure of it.

Deep in thoughts, you continued to stretch, hoping that the yoga exercises would help you get a grip of yourself and would chase away the memory of this morning. So far, it wasn’t working. But you kept stretching anyway. Child pose. Bridge. Four limbed staff. Downward dog.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you felt someone behind you. You were in the downward dog position, your ass as high up as you could possibly put it and there was someone behind you! You could feel them putting their hands on your thighs and sliding them up and down slowly. You looked down, still holding the position and you saw a pair of tracksuit covered legs.

‘Hey, doll… I love that position’ Bucky said from behind. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

‘Jesus, Buck’ you breathed. ‘Is there any reason why you’re standing there of all places? Is there any way I could help you?’

‘Why, yes, there is. Wiggle for me, doll. Wiggle that beautiful ass of yours’ he said, his hands still on your thighs, but he moved his whole body closer. So close his crotch was against your ass. So close you could feel him pressed against you. In normal circumstances this would be considered inappropriate of him. But that’s just how your friendship worked. You teased each other like that. Of course, he was much more open about it. And truth be told, it felt nice. It’s been awhile since you felt anything, but your fingers down there. So feeling him right then, was nice.

‘Oh yeah? Aren’t you excited to see me?’ you laughed, referring to his semi – hard cock, pressed against your ass, wiggling just a slight bit to tease him. He groaned. Yep. The nature of your friendship was definitely out of the box.

‘You’re such a good friend’ he praised. His hands moved up slowly, from your thighs to your ass, caressing it teasingly and then further up to your waist. He held on it firmly. ‘Now… let me help you with your workout. You can improve it a little bit’

You laughed again.

‘Since when do you know yoga?’ you asked.

‘Yoga is all about stretching. I know everything about stretching. I am pretty good at it too. Now, open your legs further.’

‘I’m still not sure about your yoga skills’ you teased not moving one bit.

You heard him growl a little. He moved his right leg in between yours, his knee pushing your legs further apart. Then you felt his grip around your waist tighten and he forcefully slammed your body against his, which earned him a surprised gasp from you. It was weird how his actions in combination with your burning limbs (from being in the same position for way too long) made you feel even more aroused. Jesus.

‘Still not sure?’ he asked, smirking.

‘No, no doubts anymore’ you laughed. ‘Just pure curiosity. What else can you stretch so good, Buck?’

Bucky was about to answer, when a loud ‘bang’ interrupted both his answer and your little game. He moved back, which allowed you to stand up again. Both of you looked around, looking for the source of the awful noise. What you saw in front of you made your eyes widen. Steve breathing heavily, all sweaty and a face burning red, looking at the punching bag in front of him on the floor, torn from its ceiling holder. What the fuck? Did he do that himself?

[waywardimpalawriter]

The Bet (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader)

The Bet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating:  M (mature) NSFW

Warnings: gambling, teasing, a little bit of spice

Word count: 3,051

Summary: Game night with team Cap turns up unexpected results.

Notes: Written for Writer Wednesday. Thank you for the very lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​

“Hope you’ve all brought a fat wallet tonight,” devilish smirk tipping the corner of her ruby lips upward. “It won’t be that way for long. I plan on parting you from your hard earned cash in spectacular fashion.” Shuffling the deck like a seasoned pro in Vegas and dealing the cards out.

Eyes rolling while sipping your Screw driver, “You gonna talk us to death Romanoff or deal the hand?” Brow lifting, hiding your own smirk behind the high ball glass.

“Just a sore loser Y/N,” blowing you a kiss after finishing the deal. Deck slammed down in the center as everyone grabbing for their cards to look them over.

A few soft groans at the terrible hands dealt, “Your shit at dealing Nat you gave me nothin,” Sam calls from your left between Steve and Wanda.

“Suck it up buttercup you play the hand your dealt,” downing her first shot of vodka. Locking eyes with Steve for a moment, “And watch your mouth…”

“You know what Romanoff that’s getting old,” rolling his green flecked blue eyes, shooting a piece of popcorn towards her head. Only to have it deflected by a quick brush of her hand.

“Children,” fake stern voice utters from beside you long neck meeting those soft lips. Trying very hard not to watch the single drop of condensation slide from bottle to chin, and down the strong expanse of tanned neck. Never being more jealous of a simple drop of water than right now. “Stow the bickering for later in the game when my pile is triple what the rest of yours is.”

A chorus of snorts drown out the music for a moment, “Bucky sweetie in your dreams will that truly happen.” Snarky comment leaves your lips right as Bucky fixes those cerulean eyes on you. Finding it a little difficult to think for a spilt second as you fidget under his heated stare.

“Wanna make a bet?” This time a chorus of groans echo around the table accompanied by head shakes. “It is Wednesday night poker right? Why not make this a little more,” pausing brow lifting giving you a slow perusal his eyes darkening to pitch. “Interesting then just Nat taking our money?”

“Ah you at least acknowledge my superior poker skills good man Barnes,” sassing him with a smirk and the salute of her shot glass. “But I rather not need eye bleach to scrub your naked ass from my memory. Of that I’m sure most around this table would agree.”

Affirmations of the positive echo her words along with chuckles in various lengths. Leaning over while everyone places their bets your turn coming up quickly. “What’s the bet Barnes?”

Maybe its the vodka infused orange juice you’ve been sipping, beer tasting like ass to you. Instead sticking with the harder liquors to pair with the right mix. Drinking isn’t something you’ve done much so maybe it’s having a quicker affect on your system. However, something tells you it has more to do with the man sitting a little too close on your right. Leather and whiskey wrapping around your senes to send tingles across your skin. He’s the reason for your bold question determined to ditch your comfort zone for one night and be a little wild.

Placing a pot bet then turning to watch you do the same, admiring your profile for the moment. Having only admitted to one other person how much he wanted you, Bucky can’t believe you’ve actually asked him for a bet just between the two of you. His mind races with possibilities none more prominent than having you spread out in his bed whimpering his name. Body withering in the pleasure he’s giving you. Your voice bringing him back to the present and trying to clear the lustful thoughts parading through his mind.

“If I win more hands you’ll be mine for the night,” brushing his lips over the shell of your ear pleased smile at hearing the sharp intake of breath from you. Knowing he’s playing with fire at proposing such idea, he could loose his heart to you so quickly and maybe that’s what he wants most. To finally let himself feel something other than pain, anger and remorse. Though that little voice in the back of his mind taunts, you wouldn’t want the ex-assassin with so much blood and death on his hands.    

Swallowing harshly you turn to look up into his eyes, “And if I win?” Everyone else disappearing, sounds going mute and all focus is on Bucky. Wishing his winnings wouldn’t be just for a night. That’s right you knew already he’d win since you sucked at poker and only played to hang out with your family instead of just missions and meetings. Happily loosing most Wednesdays just to see the pleased looks on their faces instead of grimaces of pain when patching them up.

“What do you want to win?” Itching to reach out free your bottom lip from being trapped between your teeth and run his thumb over the wet bitten skin.

Throat clearing, to draw both of you back to the game, “You playing or just ogling each other? Either way place your bet or fold so the rest of us can get on with the game Sergeant Frostbite.” Rolling his eyes and downing the last of his beer, Sam stands to get a refill silently asking if anyone else wanted one.

Both of you fold more interested in each other than the usual poker game. Your mind whirling with thoughts, not sure how to answer the bet. Thinking and discarding so many ideas, between asking him to be more careful on missions and to stop baiting Sam with snarky comments and looks. Settling for something your sure would get you into trouble but couldn’t stop yourself.

“Never thought you were that kinky Y/N.” Sweet Sokovian accented voice floats through your mind, head snapping up to look over at a smiling Wanda.

“Your not suppose to be reading minds babe,” for which you get a small shrug and a wicked smile spreading over her lips. Tsking in your head trying to keep from laughing, “Careful I might have to let the mistress of pain know.”        

“You wouldn’t? Besides your thoughts were so damn loud I couldn’t help it. I’m surprised the whole table doesn’t hear the both of you,” winking she nods towards Bucky who’s still looking at your expectantly. “Might want to answer Buck before giving him an aneurysm since he’s waiting on bated breath what you’ll ask for.”  

Clearing your throat and grabbing up your glass to take a drink, finding Bucky staring. Admiring the way your tongue peeks out to wipe up the left behind bits of orange juice. Shy smile sliding over your lips, eyes darting to the group and finding them arguing over who won the last pot.

“How about a private strip show just for my eyes only Sergeant Barnes?” Nervously swallowing hoping you’ve haven’t asked for too much. But then once would never be enough for you. Needing a repeat performance whenever the mood strikes to accompany being totally wrecked by this man who haunts your dreams.

“Tell him, you’ll be surprised at his answer,” Wanda urges then falls silent as another hand is dealt by Sam this time. She gives you another wink returning her attention to the game.

Biting off the groan of arousal, shifting in his seat to adjust himself and the bite of his jeans against his hardening cock. “I think…” irritated growl leaving his mouth when Sam tossed a balled up napkin at his head. Dead center hit to Bucky’s forehead making everyone cheer around the table. Getting a scowl from the man in question, “What?”

“Your turn Frostbite or have you forgot the game already?” Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the look Bucky sends him. Knowing the shared unrequited feelings you’ve both harbored for each other. “Has old age finally caught up to you old man?”

“I don’t think it’s the age that’s caught up with him Sam,” Steve grins for which Bucky cuts his eyes at his best friend.

“Value your life Rogers and all the secrets I keep about your pre-serum days you’ll keep that mouth shut,” threat empty as everyone knew but Steve still gives him a mock hurt expression.

Hand to his chest, “You won’t buddy?” Seeing the lifted brow cerulean eyes dart towards Nat and back to Steve’s who catches the wordless meaning. “Fuck off jerk.”

“Steven Grant Rogers did you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Natasha exclaimed biting her lip to keep the laughter from rolling out.

“Then keep your mouth shut Steve.” Bucky shot back with a taunting grin spreading across his face at Nat’s words.

Playful gasp leaving your lips, “I never thought I’d hear those kind of words uttered from your good boy lips Steve.”

“Good boy?” Snorting Bucky holds his stomach as a full belly laugh leaves his lips at the very thought. “Doll he’s got you all fooled. Hook lined and reeled in,” glancing at you for a moment then back at Steve. “You gotta quite acting all saintly Steven you’ll never get laid.”

Chocking on his beer, wiping at the mess, while his eyes throw daggers at Bucky. “Keep it up Buck and you’ll find a shield up side your head next mission.”    

Peels of laughter sound around the table drowning out the music, a beet red Steve just gapping at his family in fake astonishment. Sam’s slumped forward head resting on his forearms while gruff deep chuckles sound from him. Wanda wide eyed but soft giggles leave her as Natasha full out belly laughs, slamming a hand down on the table. Disturbing the poker chips and cards, glasses and bottles wiggling in there spots. While you’ve managed to pull your phone out and snap a few quiet pictures to save and send Clint. Who’s missing all the action while out on his own mission. Mirth dances in your eyes that lock with Bucky’s. Lips parting on a soft gasp of surprise with how he’s staring at you. Heat flaring to life across your body and you swallow trying to regain some moisture to your parched throat.

Leaning over, “We’ve got a deal doll, prepare to loose though.” Glancing back at the table seeing everyone still recovering from their laughter, Bucky uses that moment to press closer. Placing his slightly chapped lips to your cheek, “If there’s one thing Romanoff got right it’s that I’m a sore looser. I play to win,” dragging those sinful lips away to sit back in his chair. Cards resting now between those large hands.

Hands you wish were somewhere else right this moment, soothing the arch building between your thighs that rub together in the bid to find some kind of friction on your clit. Marveling at how quickly that simple brush of his lips could turn you into a pile of goo in your own seat.

Clearing your throat, “Bring it on Buck this time I may just have a reason to win as many hands as I can.”

Gauntlet tossed down with the raise of his brow. Determination coats your veins especially when he gives you a very heated once over. Scorching your very soul with the intensity making you throb, clit jumping at the very promise those wickedly beautiful eyes held. Watching the way his fingers caress the long neck bottle in his flesh hand. Bringing the brown glass to his lips for a deep drink.

Savoring the taste more than any effects it could have on him. “Careful doll face those who play with fire usually get burned,” eyes lock with yours licking those sinfully plush lips.

Glancing between his lips and eyes, your own smirk tugging your mouth upward. Free hand coming to rest on Bucky’s thigh, the heat of your palm burning his jeans covered skin. Shifting in his seat to relieve the pressure on his cock with the touch of your hand. “Don’t worry none James,” voice a soft purr in his ear. “I have salves of all kinds that’ll take care of a burn. It’s the ache I need taken care of. There’s no medication to take accept my own fingers to help sooth the pressure.” Drawing patterns over his thigh, feeling tension held tightly in those delicious muscles you wouldn’t say no to feeling between your thighs.

A bit shocked with how forward your being. His reactions only spurring on your need to see just how far you could push him before he snaps and finally takes you. Asking yourself for the thousandth time if once would state the desire you have for this man? Wanting to have more than friendship between you though you’d take it and run. But there’s a part of you which wants more, to open your heart and share it with Bucky. You only hope he feels the same way.  

For a second Bucky’s mute ignoring the calls from Sam and Steve to stare at you, mouth hanging open. Only to close with a challenge flaring in his cerulean eyes. “You sure about what your offering sweetheart?” Hating to ask but not wanting to miss understand you or the intentions swimming through your mind that he’s not privy to yet.

“As sure as the next breath I’ll be taking,” moving your hand from his thigh to rest on his vibranium forearm. Looking up into his eyes, soft smile gracing your lips that turn into a squeal. Ice sliding down the front of your shirt, cutting your eyes towards the rest of the table all of whom are pretending to not see anything. All except Natasha who’s just giving you a Cheshire Cat grin. Jumping to your feet, shaking your shirt to get the ice out. Only to have it caught in your bra melting against your heated skin, peaking your nipples. Scowling at the red head, “Your dead to me Romanoff,” playfully glaring at her before taking off towards the kitchen.

Not realizing Bucky is following you have your hand down the front of your shirt trying to fish the cube out when he clears his throat. “Need help?” Wicked grin pulling across his lips.

Licking your own at the heat flaring through your body and in his eyes, “It’s a slipper little devil.” Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling hard as Bucky steps towards you. Crowding you against the counter, planting his hands on either side of your body.

“Maybe it’ll help if you take off the shirt?” Tugging the black AC/DC shirt twice, flesh hand teasing along your side under the shirt.

Gulping to gather air into your starved lungs, shivering as the ice moves against your skin pebbled nipple starting to tent your bra and t-shirt. Distracting Bucky as his gaze drops and his hand moves upward. Sliding two fingers just under the wire and cup of your bra to snag the cube. Pressing it to your nipple, melting the ice between the heat of his fingers and your body.

“Tell me to stop and I will doll face. I won’t do anything you don’t want,” words puffing from his lips that are just inches from yours.

“You stop and I’ll have to hurt you James,” hissing turned whimper as those talented fingers wrap around your nipple and tug. Desire fogged brain only barely registering your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, embracing his body to pull him closer.

Grinning right behind his mouth claims yours. Desperate and passion fueled, licking his tongue against the seam of your lips. Which open on a gasp Bucky having found the front clasp of your bra and popped it open to cup and massage your breast. Weighting the generous globe before rolling the pebbled nipple between his fingers. Giving a light pinch to gage your reaction. Confirming whimper has an answering growl from deep within his chest. Vibranuim arm tightly wrapping around your waist as you damn near suck his tongue into your mouth tangling together for play and pleasure. Pushing your body into his wanting to mold the two of you together as the kiss turns deeper. Breath becoming an issue and you break part panting to gather in air to your starved lungs.

“Bucky,” whimpering his name, head lolling back to give his questing lips access to the sensitive column of your throat. Swallowing to gather your wits. “James,” you try again running your nails through his hair, scrapping his scalp lightly and pulling a groan from the man against you. “I’m going die if you don’t fuck me James.” Words whimpered from you lips.

“We can’t have that now can we doll?” Dragging his nose up your beautifully scented skin to nip at your earlobe. Hands one warm the other cool cup your ass and lift, your legs wrapping around his trim waist of the own accord.

Pressing his harden cock into your willing core, making you shutter around him at the delicious friction his movements cause. “Don’t you dare tease me James,” burying your lips against his neck to bit down on the strong cords sucking a small mark just south of his thumping pulse.

“Marking me already sweetheart?” Pushing away from the counter to head towards his apartment. Trying to focus on his steps and not how good you feel in his arms. “I wouldn’t dream of teasing you doll but if you keep using that mouth of yours to tempt me I won’t be held accountable for the state your clothes end up in or the fact that the whole compound will hear us.”

Pulling back, hands spread over his neck, fingers tugging at the short strands, “Then you better pick up the pace Sergeant before I have to take matters into my own hands and that would be a shame to take care my own self. Wouldn’t it James?”

“Yes ma’am,” pausing at his door to press you into the hard wall. Rocking into your body so you can feel just what you’ve caused.  “Especially when I have just the remedy to sooth that ache you were talking about.”

Poker night was never the same again at least night for you and Bucky.

[stxvercgersslut]

One of the good ones

Description: you always had a bad experience with Christmas in the past due to your bad home life. But your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, and his 4 year old daughter, Lilah, are determined to give you the best Christmas ever.

Warnings: extreme fluff like there is way too much fluff in this one fic and it wasn’t even supposed to this long! mentions of bad family experiences.

Prompts: Gif is a prompt too,

“you’re skipping Christmas? Isn’t that against the Law?” (Christmas with the Kranks)

A/n: yeah I’m late to the party but @chrissquares is just too damn amazing for me not to at least write one fic for this challenge!

————————————————————

“No you have to be kidding!” Your boyfriend of almost 1 year spoke, totally and utterly shocked from your declaration just a few seconds ago. Mouth wide in shock horror causing the little 4 year old Sarah, named after Steve’s loving mother who had tragically passed away during the 40′s, to giggle slightly at how hysterically ridiculous her daddy looked right now.

You, on the other hand, weren’t as amused at the toddler. In fact, you were bored of the conversation already and the love of your life had only brought it up a couple seconds ago to make conversation. But then again you could just have been in a god awful bad mood like you always were this close to Christmas. “You heard me Steve...I’m not repeating it again. Please just drop it?” you pretty much begged at this point which seemed to cause Sarah to giggle a tad bit more since she seemed to find this entire scene quite amusing. Especially with how ridiculous the whole situation was.

But Steve didn’t want to end the conversation just yet. No he was determined to get to the bottom of this. “Nu uh baby girl. You don’t just get to blurt out that you’re skipping Christmas altogether and not explain why” he declared, a much sterner look on his face.

However, those words seemed to pluck Sarah’s attention away from her pretend tea party on the floor and landing her straight into the current conversation. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Especially after what she had just heard.

“What!” The four year old announced in the cutest little voice that Steve had ever heard in his life, causing the super soldier to crack a smile. Meanwhile your expression still stayed static. “you’re skipping Christmas? Isn’t that against the Law?” The toddler added to her previous shock.

You really weren’t expecting that. Especially not from a toddler as young as Sarah was. Yet you still managed to prepare yourself to answer her question. “It’s not against the law. It’s perfectly acceptable to just ignore Christmas all together” oh you should have known Sarah wouldn’t have accepted that answer.

“Why would you want to skip Christmas...” now she looked offended. No, offended wasn’t the word, she was totally and utterly shocked that someone would actually hate a holiday that she assumed everyone loved due to the magical experience. All kids loved Christmas so why didn’t you? That wasn’t something you truly didn’t want to disclose.

“Because” you answered, not having the energy to come up with anything too interesting that would actually put the situation to bed without any more questions. But if you’d believed that Sarah would just leave it at that then you were painfully mistaken.

“Because what?” She answered with her beautiful blue eyes sparkling in the sun light shining from the window with how wide her little eyes were. You really had started a war now.

However, finally your boyfriend decided to actually interject, seeing the way you cringed in thought “Sarah come on she doesn’t wanna answer baby” the super soldier explained, walking closer to you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist to let you know that he was there. Just because he was trying to help ease the situation with his daughter didn’t mean he’d let this go. Oh no.

"Because isn't an answer!" And there it was, the delicate child had began to press you for answers that you truly didn’t want to expose.

Quickly you sat down on the floor with your step daughter, taking her little hand in yours before digging around in your brain for a answer that you could give to her. “Sarah.....it’s hard to explain baby...I don’t really think that this is a discussion that you really need to be a part of okay?....” you eased, placing a hand on her shoulder as a peace offering to which she seemed to take and just wander even closer to you, pretty much tugging you into a mighty tight hug. For a 4 year old she was extremely strong. Mostly due to the super soldier serum already running through her veins.

After the hug Sarah pulled away,  showing her shiny white baby teeth to you before giggling away to herself when she turned around to play with her toys again. Finally you had managed to stop the toddler from pressing for answers.

Steve, on the other hand, was not going to allow this to happen. You were the love of his life, the one that swooped into his life during a time where he had believed true love would never find him. You'd change his life for good and most importantly you were the very first women that he'd allowed into his daughters life. No way was he going to let you skip the lost wonderful time of the year. "And what do you plan on doing on Christmas Day if you're skipping Christmas then huh?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows which successfully made you laugh due to his stubbornness.

"Well...." you began, scratching your head in thought as you struggled for an answer. It was the easiest of things to answer since you barely did anything. "I'll probably watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S for the hundredth time and finish off a bottle of wine." You admitted, guessing truth would probably be the your one true option.

But the look on Steve's face told you otherwise. Maybe you should have just lied instead of telling the truth. Then at least you would have spared yourself the humiliation of telling the one man you loved more then anything about your plans for Christmas.

Steve laughed, he fucking laughed at you. Not in a rude way (you hoped) but in a way that showed just how shocked and confused he was at you antics. How could someone like you not want to celebrate Christmas? That had to be against the law right? Just like Sarah had said, no one should skip Christmas. “Baby! You really think I’m gonna let you just be alone for Christmas?” he spoke, voice stern as if he was speaking to one of his team mates and not you his literal girlfriend. Clearly Steve wasn’t ever going to let you just be miserable, especially when it was Christmas that was hanging in the balance. No he’d be damned if he was going to let any of what you had planned out for your Christmas alone. 

“Well I kinda wasn’t going to ask for permission.” You interjected, knowing that this was an argument waiting to happen but you didn’t really care at this point. All you really wanted was for this conversation to be over and for Steve to completely forget about everything that you had said. not that that was ever actually going to happen now. Of course that wasn’t going to happen.

Steve was silent for a few seconds as he crossed his arms in a slight huff, of course catching the eye of the small toddler who instantly repeated the same gesture in which her father had just done. that in itself was the most adorable thing in the world.

“Well you don’t need to ask permission I guess...but its still not right! I’m not letting it happen.” He spoke, once again using his stern Captain America voice. Which seemed to provoke a little giggle from Sarah before she once again repeated Steve’s exact words in her beautiful little childish voice. Although you really wanted to reply to his comment, right now you couldn’t. It was Sarah’s moment to interject so right now you allowed this to happen. Now that in itself had enough power to cause Steve to finally break his stern facade, letting out a joyful chuckle before turning to his little girl deciding to test how far Sarah’s little game would go. 

After a couple seconds Steve placed his hands on his hips he grinned childishly. Sarah once again repeated the action in her little childish ways. So in retaliation Steve placed his middle finger against his nose, Sarah repeated once again. Oh this game really was causing you to burst out into a fit of giggles. It was almost as if she had sensed the tension in the air and just wanted to put an end to it. Which the little girl had done effortlessly. Things like this really did seem to make you realise how lucky you were to be a part of Steve’s life. You just really hoped to god that Steve would never get bored of you. 

You had no idea how on earth any of this had happened, but after a few more minuets Steve had began to dance around with Sarah. Wiggling his body around like one of those inflatable balloons that danced around when the wind blew them just right. At that point you just couldn’t hold back the laughter that was erupting inside of you, causing your stomach to ache with how much you were laughing. Now you really had forgotten about the conversation that had once been important to Steve. Little did you know that Steve hadn’t forgotten, in fact it was still quite important to him.

______________________________________________________________

It had been a good couple of house later that Steve had finally managed to once again pluck up the courage to finally speak to you. He needed to make this Christmas one that you would never forget. If he didn’t then he would have failed, something he desperately didn’t want to happen. Especially when you were apart of his life. Clearly he loved you too much to let you deal with another Christmas alone, even if that was actually what you wanted to do. He’d be damned if he was going to let that happen.

After putting Sarah in her bed to nap, Steve slowly walked over to where you were sitting in Steve’s bedroom, a room he so longed to share with you. Maybe one day he would. Taking his time as he attempted to figure out exactly what he was going to say. Although he did have a small inkling as to what he wanted.

“Y/n.....baby.....I know it was hours ago since we spoke about your Christmas plans...but I think we need to continue that conversation.” He began, voice low as he attempted to kee the conversation quiet as to not wake Sarah.

This took you by surprise, your head shooting up from your phone screen to look him directly in the eyes. This time his eyes were less stern. No instead his beautiful blue eyes were softly looking at you as if you were the most angelic creature that he had ever encountered in his 100 years of living. And in his eyes you truly were.

“Steve....just drop it please....I just want to forget about Christmas this year like every year” you replied hoping he’d understand. Yet he didn’t.

“No baby....I’m not going to drop this!” His voice raising ever so slightly as he began to voice his opinion.

“Why? Why won’t you drop this? It’s one subject I don’t want to talk about!” You yelled back, although your voice still wasn’t too loud since you had to make sure you wouldn’t disturbe the sleeping toddler in the other room.

Your raised voice had seemed to throw Steve ever so slightly, confusing him. “Because this is important to me y/n! You’re important to me! And I’m not going to let you be sad and alone on Christmas Day! It’s just not happening” now he wasn’t asking. He was being assertive. Which wasn’t exactly the greatest thing in the world but what could you do about it? Clearly Steve wasn’t going to let go so you couldn’t either.

“I’m alone every other Christmas so why does this year have to be any different?” You challenged knowing Steve wouldn’t like that one bit. But the again you were most certainly past caring at this point.

Once again Steve was taken aback by your words. “You didn’t have me and Sarah back then! Now it’s different you don’t have to be alone on Christmas or any other day because you’ve got me! And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you be alone when you have two people in your life that love you more then anything in the whole world!”

He hadn’t heard it at first, hadn’t heard those words escape his lips until he saw your face drop. That stern look leaving your features and instead gracing your face with a much brighter smile that he had so desperately missed. That was when he’d realised that the words he’d tried so desperately to keep in until the time was right had now escaped his lips. To say he was terrified was an understatement. What scared you more was how worried he looked now.

“Y......you love me....” you asked with wide eyes, a smile gracing your features. The sound of those words really did seem to shock you. “Y.....You love me?” You repeated trying to get his attention.

Finally you had, that worried expression on his face still continuing to get wider as he tried to figure out if you would run or stay. Clearly terrified that he’d lose you because of what he had just said.

“Of course I love you y/n, I love you so much more then you will ever know. I know I should have never kept this from you for so long. I should have told you How I felt the second that I started to feel that way....” he explained hoping you’d understand as much as physically possible. That’s all he wanted.

“Why didn’t you?” You inquired.

“Because I was terrified of what you’d say...” he admitted, showing you the side of him he was too afraid to show.

“You shouldn’t have had to be scared. I love you too Steve....I love you so so much”

This Christmas was going to be the best Christmas you had ever experienced.

Tag list: @chuckbass-love @harrysthiccthighss @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @cevans-fics @amythedvdhoarder @drabblewithfrannybarnes @pumpkin-and-pine @starlightcrystalline

[ragweed98]

This is my first, tentative post, it's borderline smut with Roger Taylor. I've only ever edited and brainstormed with the amazing writer @a-bisexual-phantom

So I guess tension as a warning?? Mild cliffhanger as I can't write the actual act for the life of me?? I tried to be accurate!!

You were so excited for the opportunity to intern with Queen, not only was it a huge learning experience but you had the feeling that you were watching history go down. Some aspects of your job included anything and everything anybody else needed, paperwork, snacks, occasionally breaking up fights between band members when the manager wasn't able to. 

You loved the little farm house that the band would be recording their album at. You really hoped the quiet countryside would provide maximum song-writing atmosphere for everyone. Once everyone got settled into their bedrooms, yours being the closest to the bathroom probably due to the fact that you were the only female, you decided to explore a little bit as this may be your only chance before being buried in paperwork.

After looking through the studio, you began exploring outside and you discovered a few worn paths that went who knows where. Naturally you picked one and immediately started walking down it. You weren't scared of getting lost or running into any murderers. Along the first trail, the plants were growing together overhead, creating a tunnel of green that the last of the sun shone through.

You made your way back and decided to grab a torch so you could continue your adventure into the night hours and then departed to the second trail of the trip. As you walked you dragged your feel, shuffling through the leaves, smiling to yourself at the noise you created. Your smile grew, splitting across your face as you came to the end of the trail, as you took in the sight before you. 

It was a gorgeous lake, "perfect", you thought to yourself "for relaxing". 

The fact that you had no swimwear was a trivial thought, and easily fixed since you were most likely to be the lake's only occupant. 

You walked back to the house around three a.m. water droplets clinging to your hair. The door didn't creak, but as you crept down the hall towards your door the floor squeaked with every step you took. Though you thought you were in the clear as you entered your room, you failed to notice a door open and a shaggy blond head poke out to see who was squeaking in so late.

With three and a half hours of sleep under your belt you started making a huge breakfast for everyone at about 6:30 a.m. As the smoke from the grease filled pans hissed up, the aromas of bacon, eggs, and much needed coffee coaxed everyone out of their rooms. Everyone filtered in, sitting down sleepily, looking like rock and roll zombies. You set plates out for everybody to dish themselves up, Roger grabbed the last two plates, setting them down to dish up next to you on the counter and put his other hand on the other side of you. 

"Someone had some late night adventures last night", Roger whispered in your ear, his raspy voice laced with sleep. 

You turned to face him intending to ask why he had been up at that hour too when you realised since the whole band was still in their pyjamas you came face to chest with the shirtless drummer. With the toned arms of Roger Taylor on either side of you, you put on your best professional, no nonsense face about half a foot away from his. You couldn't put much more distance between you and him due to the kitchen counter and he seemed to know that as he smirked, leaning forward slightly with his whole body. 

"Mr. Taylor, that's quite enough", you said in a soft stern voice. 

"Oh you two are adorable." Freddie said at the same time Deaky started complaining about Roger not being able to go five minutes without blatantly flirting with the band's intern. 

"Roger, please leave Miss L/N be, as she is here to help Miami help us with our career." Brian said without looking up from his songbook and coffee. 

Roger sighed at Queen's comments, then looking at you, drawled, "it doesn't seem as though Y/N wants me to move..." 

His eyes widen as you suddenly put your hands on his bare shoulders and use him to hop up on the counter in front of him, lift your legs over his arm, back onto the floor and walked off with your plate, saying since his ego was so big and heavy you moved so he wouldn't have to strain himself. Freddie barked out a laugh, congratulating you on rendering Roger speechless. 

"It's not often he doesn't know what to do with his mouth." You chuckled. 

"Especially when a beautiful girl is involved," Freddie said, causing the drummer to blush as he continued gawking like a goldfish. 

It had been a few weeks of stress filled song writing and you were attempting to enjoy a shower when you heard thumps coming from outside the bathroom. You ignored the commotion and finished your shower, toweling off only to realise you hadn't brought clean clothes to change into.

You wrapped your towel around your body securely and cracked the door to peek out and seeing that the coast was clear you calmly walked towards your open door. As soon as you went to close the door, hands grabbed your waist and pulled you behind the door, against the wall, your hands pushing at the possible kidnapper. 

You let out a yelp only to be silenced by a hand over your mouth as a body pushed up against you HARD. Roger opened the door back up until it was touching his back and put a finger to his lips, touching both of your noses as he did so. Freddie thundered down the hallway and tiptoed into your room brushing by the door as he entered. Roger pulled your leg up around him and leaned  all the way into you to give the door an inch to swing inward as Freddie walked back out of your room, having unsuccessfully found anyone. 

"We're playing hide and seek, Love" Roger breathed in your ear as he let his hand slide down from your mouth to lightly rest on your throat, smirking at your current attire. 

"Well, Mr. Taylor, you should have said so." You said as you decided to get him back for his 'unprofessionality' as Brian referred to it. "FREDDIE! ROGER'S IN--" Roger cut you off with his hand, cursing as Fred's footsteps pounded back into your room. 

"Oi, Roger! Put her down" Freddie yelled at the drummer who realized you were still flush around him in his hiding spot. He glared at you as he let you push him off you this time and slipped over to your dresser. Freddie shoved Roger out of the room for you to change, thanking you for your service in the game.

As the door clicked shut you let the façade of professional indifference fall as your face blushed red hot at the situation and proximity you had just come out of. Deciding that taking another shower would be doing too much, you changed into shorts and a tank top and took a dry towel to head to the lake. You poked your head out to see that it was Roger free, strode down the hallway and headed down the stairs, listening all the while for band members.  

You stopped by the kitchen for a coffee and ran into Freddy when you opened the lower cupboard to grab a lid to take your coffee with you. Managing not to react too wildly you grinned at him and asked if Roger was seeking now. Freddie nodded and Mr. Taylor came in from counting outside to find you putting the lid on your coffee thermos having closed Freddy's hiding spot back up.

"Well if it isn't my newly declared hide and seek enemy," Roger greeted you with fake hurt puppy eyes.

"All is fair in love and war Mr. Taylor" you said, sipping your coffee you grimimced then turned around to grab some sugar to add to the bitter bean water, knowing exactly what held the drummer's gaze now that you were facing away from him.

"Maybe," Roger said slowly, stalking towards you, "you and I could help each other….you know in the game" his pause implying the other game he was playing, with only you.

 He continued walking slowly toward you as you continued slowly walking backwards until your back hit the counter and he smirked. You set your coffee down and jumped up to sit on the counter, crossing your legs and picking your coffee back up.

Roger stopped at the counter you were seated on, placing his hands on the counter right up against your leg and under the crossed one. 

 "Perhaps you should make it up to me, losing me the game I mean" his thumbs coming up to rub your legs.

"What if I tell you where Freddy is currently hiding at this moment?" You asked, fighting a shiver from his rubbing.

"Mmm I had something else in mind but I suppose that will do for now." His hands came up to rest on your still crossed legs, making it abundantly clear to you what else he had had in mind.

"Mr. Taylor it is a bit unprofessional to put your hands on a working intern as you have today-"

"Are you saying this?" He gestured with his head, "professionally does nothing for you?" He grinned cockily.

"What I'm saying is that A. I'm not a groupie, I'm here to work in a field I enjoy, B. I'm not one of your countless harlots, C. You're just horny because you've been here a few weeks and I'm the only female in a hundred miles and D." You leaned in close to his ear as Freddy silently closed his cupboard door and tiptoed to a different hiding spot, "you are a terrible seeker" you leaned back to sip your coffee.

"Well I convinced you to tell me where Freddy is, so I can't be that bad, speaking of which Love, you have yet to actually tell me where he's hiding, unless you want me to...continue convincing..."

"The cupboard, behind you."

Roger opened the cupboards behind him to find nothing. 

 Turning back to you, his face like that of a predator, stalking his prey; his eyes looking straight through your bones to your core. Uncrossing your legs to get down, Roger walked back up to you in one long stride, leaning right up against the counter, pushing your legs apart with his hips as he did so, causing you to fall back, catching yourself on one hand. Caught off guard you set your coffee down perhaps harder than you meant to and put your other hand on his warm chest to prevent him from getting closer than he already was.

"You lied"

"I said I could tell you where he was at that exact moment, he moved since then, while you were...preoccupied."

Placing his hands on your hips his eyes bore into you, "well then I suppose you still owe me for costing me my title at world champion hider. Do you have a preference as to when I should collect?"

Roger smirked as though you were trapped when really you knew all you had to do was say 'no' and he would back down immediately….though you never would.

"Mr. Taylor, I wonder if you could perhaps be more specific as to what sort of debt I am owing you, then I could be more helpful-"

Roger Taylor's soft lips cut you off, sampling the coffee in your mouth and you sighed into the kiss.  

"Sorry Love, couldn't play our game much longer with you looking so fucking delicious," Roger pulled away to gauge the situation, wanting to make certain he wasn't crowding you.

"Oh-ho no, you don't get to do that and just walk away mister! Get back in here!" You ordered him, snapping him back to you with your legs.

"Yes Ma'am," Roger saluted, clearly bemused by your little show of dominance. He slid his hands under you and turned to leave the kitchen.

"And just where are we headed now?" You inquired, tying your legs around him, doing your best to hide your smile at his cockiness.

"Ahh well, I just thought- I mean I..maybe," confidence gone he stuttered "we were-umm going for a swim?" His eyes fell on your towel.

"Good answer, now let's go 'swim' before the rest of Queen realizes you're not actively seeking them."

His smile returned a bit shy as he stopped and fell into your eyes before the words "so fucking gorgeous" whispered from under his breath causing your cheeks to heat up.

[holy-stevie]

Remembering Jeff

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Tony are mourning Jeff, Steve is sick of the stupid games and takes what he wants. 

Warnings: Small bit of angst, SMUT, this is FILTHY, blowjob, face-fucking, captain kink, spitting, Ransom (yes he gets a warning).

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: This was requested by the lovely @donutloverxo​ ma’am i went so far off the request i’m sorry i couldn’t stop. 

New to this series? Here! 1 2 

Masterlist

Please do not repost my work anywhere else!

“I don’t know how to go on Y/n..” Tony cries through his hands, his crumpled form leaning into your side as you both sit in your bed watching movies on a Saturday night. You pat his back in sympathy, understanding what he’s going through.

“I know it’s hard, hell I miss him so much, but we have to move on.” You say, ignoring the snickers from the cuddling couple on the beanbag at the foot of your bed.

“He was taken away from us so suddenly, I can’t.” Tony cries again, this time snuggling into you further and crying onto your t-shirt. Entering the room, Steve rolls his eyes at the pair of you crying into each other’s arms like it wasn’t just a dumb pineapple that they replaced weekly.

“Are you two still crying?” He asks in annoyance setting down a pizza box, ignoring Sam and Bucky giggling into each other’s ears, rounding the bed to slide in next to you. Tony growls lightly and pulls you closer to him as he eyes your boyfriend trying to steal you from him.

“Get your own cuddle buddy Rogers.” He says, sniffling quietly making you coo and sling your arm around him softly.

“She is my cuddle buddy! She’s my girlfriend.” Steve says in irritation, his nostrils flaring in jealously as he watches you dot on Tony. You just smile at both of them and hold an arm out to Steve, pressing your face into the side of his neck when he settles next to you with a grumpy frown. Bucky clicks his phone a few times before a random movie title stretches across your tv screen.

“Knives out?” Steve asks with a confused glance to Bucky, the winter soldier just shrugs before settling back in with Sam. The group is quiet until a certain character appears on screen.

“Bucky pause it oh my god!” You leap up from Steve’s arms, Tony sitting up with you.

“He looks exactly like Steve!” Tony says with a cackle, Steve groans behind you as Bucky hits play again.

‘Hugh Drysdale?’

‘Ransom call me Ransom, only the help calls me Hugh.’

“Oh, I’ll definitely call him Hugh.” You mumble out making Sam and Tony laugh, you grin up at Steve’s annoyed face with glee, from the way his jaw was clenching you knew you were in for a long night once the others left. Steve just sighs and leans forward and flicks the pizza box open, revealing the ham and pineapple pizza. Hearing Tony’s whimper you draw your eyes away from the delicious looking brunette to Steve, gasping loudly as you watch him take a big bite out of his slice, several chunks of pineapple being murdered.

“NO JEFF! STEVE HOW COULD YOU” Tony yells getting up from the bed to point his finger at Steve, the man in question just raises an eyebrow at the short man in annoyance. You sit back against the headboard as you watch Tony yell at Steve, grinning until you see the anger growing in Steve’s eyes.

“That’s it. All of you, get the fuck out.” He growls out, the cold stern voice of the captain making the boys blink before all three of them race out of your bedroom door, Bucky snatching up the pizza box on his way out. Steve sits on the edge of the bed facing away from you and lowers his head into his hands, you bite your lip as you notice the tension in his shoulders.

“Stevie?” You mumble, climbing off the bed to stand in front of him and sighing out when he lightly grabs your waist in his hands and buries his face into your soft stomach with a soft kiss and a whisper of “Mine.” Making you frown in guilt as you grip his chin in your hand to tip his face up to look at you.

“Always yours.” You say with a smile, making him smile tiredly. You look at his tense frame again before slowly lowering yourself to your knees, your face level with the waistline of his pants.

“Baby?” He asks as he watches your hands slide up his thighs softly, hands resting on the band of his boxers poking out above the grey sweats he’s wearing.

“You’re so tense baby, let me help you out.” You say licking your lips, he just nods down at you with a tense jaw and lifts his hips to help you rid him of his pants and boxers, his hardening cock landing lightly on his thigh before you wrap your soft hand around it and start pumping him.

“Relax my love.” You say mouthing along his shaft, licking up from the base until your tongue is twirling around his angry pink tip. You swallow him down as far as you can and hum at the sound of his startled moan, your tongue flat against the underside of him as you bob your head around his thick cock, your hand pumping the rest of the length that you can’t reach with your mouth. Steve moans and bucks his hips up lightly before restraining himself and stopping his movements, you frown and pull off with a long suck, your hand coming up to replace where your warm mouth was occupying as you speak.

“Don’t restrain yourself baby.” You mumble looking up at his darkening eyes, grinning wickedly as you lower your lips to hover over the tip as you speak softly.

“Fuck my face Captain.” Followed by a soft kiss to his tip. Steve growls and grips your hair in a tight fist as he leans down and pries your mouth open with his fingers before spitting into your warmth, you moan desperately and grin when he leans back up, looming over you isn’t Steve Rogers anymore. No Captain America stands above you with dark blown pupils and a dirty smirk as he grabs his cock and feeds it into your mouth inch by inch, groaning when he feels your tight throat stretch to accommodate him.

“Just like that.” He says before he starts snapping his hips into your face, holding your head still with his grip in your hair as he takes exactly what he wants. He throws his head back as he feels pleasure lick down his spine, settling in his balls as he snaps his hips into your face one last time and holds you there as he cums down your throat with a dirty growl of your name.

Coming down Steve lowers his eyes to your mouth and slowly drags his still hard cock out of your messy mouth, smiling darkly at the drool and cum dripping down your chin before you scoop it up in your fingers and suck them into your mouth. He tilts his head before yanking you up and pushing you onto your stomach, gripping your hips and pulling your ass up as his hand presses your face into the sheets. He leans down until his mouth is right next to your ear, kissing it teasingly as a full body shudder goes through you at his next words.

“You’re going to take Captain’s cock until you’re begging me to stop.”

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