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winterspiderpurrs · 2 years

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The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

" Hey Punk. This isn't the normal Sunday catch up.... can't wait til lunch tomorrow? What do you need?"

Steve laughs, he was folding some laundry and had his cell phone sitting on the coffee table with his ear buds in.

" Hey Buck, can't a guy call you up with out needing something?"

" Not in my line of business but I also know you Rogers. If it couldn't wait a day...."

" Yeah your right...err... well I met someone... and I don't wanna look them up in the system.. and wondered if you could see what you can find out? "

Bucky laughed " Ooh and here I thought this was serious. What makes you think you need to look them up? It's easy work but seems odd for you to ask"

Steve chuckles a little nervously " He seems... no he is adorable. Very sweet and just... a touch to good to be true. And I saw him getting into an extremely fancy black car after the gym one time."

" shit. Okay what's there name, any other details you can give before I go to my sources?"

" he is an Columbia University student. He is so smart. Only 21 and working on his doctors I think he said something about bio engineering? His name is Peter Parke"

" Meet me at our spot. Now. Drop and hurry."

The line ends and Steve stares over at the phone for a moment before rushing to grab his keys, wallet, gun and his baseball cap. He slips on his jacket and heads out of his apartment. He is only about 5 blocks away from their meet up spot. The old apartment complex they grew up in. The downstairs has 24hr dinner. His mom used to wait tables there before she passed.

Bucky was already there waiting in the far back corner. Two coffees sitting on the table.

" Buck. What's going on- you"

Bucky leans across the table moving his phone into view " is that him? Take a good look and I need you to be 100% sure Steve"

Staring at Bucky before looking at the phone. It was clear in the photo was the smiling face of Peter Parker.

" Yes that Pe-"

" Don't say his name out."

Now the two childhood friends are just staring at each other. Bucky puts his phone away before whipping his hand across his face in frustration. He sighs looking up at the ceiling then back to Steve.

" How did you meet. And be clear with me Steve. Did he bump into, did he engage the initial meet, dropped something and you picked it up, waiting for you to open a door, let you move ahead of him in line."

Steve frowns " No he didn't. I've seen him for a while at the gym in passing. And after we last hung out you said I should put myself out there.... so I approached him. Honestly I wasn't sure if it was gonna work. But I asked him to join me for lunch at the place next to the gym. ... he said I wasn't his type but we had a good lunch. And we have been meeting the past couple of weeks at the gym and having a lunch..."

Sighing Bucky takes a big swig of coffee. " You know the man I work for Steve. Thankfully you keep out of our business and we keep out of yours. But.... the kid.... he is a kitten amongst wolves. He is my bosses son. And he probably already knows about you and have you being watched. Thankfully you haven't made big enough moves on bambino for him to show up at your door"

Peter Parker, cute adorable flirty but shy nerd, son of rumored mob boss Tony Stark. Owner of Stark Industries. And here Steve was, FBI agent.

" Fuck Bucky.... are you gonna get in trouble for meeting me here then? What should I do?"

" First.... I'm going to have kitten tell me how he feels if he wants to be serious with you. Then we are going to approach Stark about courting his kid"

" I care sbout him Buck. But how could... the dad let me date his kid?"

" Steve. Your straight lace. You have rules and morals. You would Never hurt him. When you care your all in, til the end no matter what it takes. He knows that about you. Your the perfect person for his son.... also looks good to the public."

" Okay. But I don't even have his phone number.. we just meet at the gym. Won't see him til Monday."

Bucky nods before pulling his phone back out, couple of clicks then he is holding it up to his ear.

" HI Jamie! I miss you! You never check in on me anymore how are you?"

Steve blinks and looks hard at Bucky who is currently fighting a small blush from rising. Well... now Steve might know who Peter's type was. Interesting.

#i was going somewhere and lost it #someone needs to expand on this and write it #peter parker #peter parker x steve rogers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #peter parker x bucky barnes #spidershield #shieldspider #winterspider #writing prompt #spiderman #stucky au #mob tony stark #winterspidershield #winterspiderpurrs

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kiddseveride · 2 years

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tag 10 people you want to know better

tagged by @kiddstellas

relationship status: forever single

favourite color: blue

favourite food: i have so many! i guess if i have to choose, i’d say stuffed cabbage and pastitsio

song stuck in my head: fallingwater by maggie rogers

last thing i googled: “acnh label outfit themes” i was playing animal crossing and label was there and i wanted to do the theme right

time: 11:05pm (23:05 for anyone who uses 24hr time)

dream trip: visit Kalymnos, Greece aka the island my family (on my mom’s side) came from and also see the church my great-great grandmother built ALL BY HERSELF there

tagging: @shieldagent93 @light-miracles @padawanton @cyclone-rachel @mistyautumn @burzekwater @eagerforthesky @tkstrands @aintmyjewelry @meaningtotellyou

#a little about me #let me know if you’d want to be untagged

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tizniz · 2 months

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A team up ask from me and my roommate:

Would you rather spend all night in the Enchanted Tiki Room with it running or have to ride the Roger Rabbit Car Toon Spin ride for 24hrs straight ✨✨

I see you ignored the tag of be nice with the would you rather's haha (Not you roommate, you're okay.)

But nah, Roger Rabbit. Because I can control how much it spins, so LOOPHOLE.

Also, love that movie so much. And that ride.

The birds are fucking creepy.

SLEEPOVER FRIDAY

#tanis answers #nicole 🦋

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emrv2023 · 1 year

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Where personal growth happens... so does adoption

Consistent with what we’ve covered to date in class, Rogers’ Five Factors highlight some of the peculiar patterns of human behavior. Consumers are - more often than not - demanding, risk-averse, lazy and or convinced they are pressed for time, and prone to groupthink. These attributes combined explain why and how habits and patterned thinking are formed: they are comfortable. And yet, if this is where the story stopped, breakthrough inventions and seismic shifts in attitudes would never happen. Humans are open-minded. So the question becomes, when are humans most open-minded?

I think about the “comfort zone,” “stretch zone,” and “panic zone” explanation for personal growth somewhat regularly. As someone who is squarely risk-averse, the “panic zone” is the last place I ever want to be. No thank you. The stretch zone, though, is where ~magic~ happens - where feelings of pride and possibility brew. This is also where you want consumers to experience a new innovation. An innovation that fits squarely into the “comfort zone” isn’t an innovation at all. It’s nothing new. An innovation in the “panic zone” will have consumers keeping it at arm’s length.

Take Uber, for example. The perks of the ride-sharing app (on-demand transportation, ease of payment, 24hr service) immediately put Uber outside a consumer’s “comfort zone.” Until your first Uber ride, you really have not ever ridden in an Uber. Exciting! The similarities Uber shares with taxis (door-to-door service, alleged safety, a private vehicle) keep consumers inside the “stretch zone” and avoid the “panic zone.” Where personal growth happens - so does adoption.

#2023MITSloanBrandingSA

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newmusic2day · 1 year

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Quem é Louis Pho? (Biografia)

Quem é Louis Pho? (Biografia) https://ift.tt/i5ydEm8 Influenciado por artistas como MC Roger, Matias Damásio e o grupo musical angolano SSP, Luois Pho é um artista de música e compositor Moçambicano que para além de gostar de cantar o artista também vem escrevendo poemas, é um ótimo leitor, dança e treina karaté. Como descrito, Luois Pho é muito mais do que um simples artista, ele trás consigo uma variedade de hobbies e artes profissionais Em 2003 começou a escrever suas músicas do estilo Rap, não tardou Luois Pho foi convidado para fazer parte do agrupamento Os Nhatuas, e muito rápido escolhido como líder do grupo que na época era composto por 6 elementos. Em que os elementos predominantes do mesmo eram meninos órfãos e residentes no Centro do Orfanato – Santos Inocentes, na zona centro de Moçambique, Sofala, Beira – Manga, na época as suas atividades assim como as do elenco eram custeadas pelo Centro – Sociedade Alemã, é aí onde o Louis Pho aprendeu a fazer outros estilos musicais como ritmo Tropical entre outros estilos. Em 2004 o artista junto do seu elenco viram-se convidados a participar em uma turnê pela Alemanha para 25 apresentações pelo país, levando esta proposta ao seu Pai na época, o Louis teve a autorização recusada pelos encarregados dizendo-lhe que a sua maior prioridade são os estudos. Mais tarde no mesmo ano Pho teve que viajar para o interior de Sofala para fins acadêmicos, afastando-se assim das suas atividades artísticas e consequentemente do seu grupo que acabou por se desfazer com o afastamento do líder. Com o foco virado na vida acadêmica Pho não parou de fazer suas composições mesmo sem a bênção do seu Pai, pois o seu sonho e plano era voltar a fazer música assim que terminasse os estudos. Mais tarde em 2015 posterior a conclusão dos estudos, em de 15 Fevereiro do mesmo ano, o jovem artista sonhador pede novamente a bênção do seu amado Pai para voltar a fazer aquilo que ele tanto ansiava, e já não tendo desculpas o Pai deu a bênção logo depois de tanta alegria Pho cantou duas músicas. O Pai muito feliz e orgulhoso do filho pois ele sempre obedeceu os seus desejos mesmo quando se tratava de algo que ele sempre quis teve a paciência de esperar a autorização do Pai. Passando 24hrs isso já no dia 16 de Fevereiro Louis Pho perde o Pai sem antecedências de doenças e em Maio do mesmo ano perde a Mãe, com muita dor no coração o artista faz jus aos conselhos dados pelos Pais Já com a autorização dos seus ente queridos Louis Pho não parou. Hoje conta com novo álbum intitulado ”O Amanhecer” composto por 17 músicas com o lançamento agendado para Janeiro de 2023 na cidade capital de Moçambique, Maputo e em todas plataformas digitais. CAPA DO ÁLBUM Confira a seguir algumas imagens do que o artista vem fazendo: via NewMusic2Day https://ift.tt/juDdFs1 December 29, 2022 at 06:09PM

#mp3 #download mp3 #baixar mp3 #musicas novas #baixar musicas

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junkshop-disco · 1 year

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7,17, 27 for the fic writing meme!

This is a very pleasing selection of numbers.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Maggie Rogers is the MVP for lyrics you can break up for song or chapter titles. Two of my recent faves: when we're cheek to cheek, I feel it in my teeth and boulders turn to sand, wherever you go that's where I am. Just begging to be titles. Look at them.

Your favorite character to write this year?

I've spent a lot of time writing Farah Dowling and have regretted not a second of it. What I love about her is that she has this real steel to her coupled with vulnerability, she's done appalling things but retained a sense of gentle optimism and hope. My favourite type of character to write is someone who's super competent in some ways and a disaster in others and has a tragic backstory to explore, so she called to me. At first I was like 'how on earth do you write a narrator who can read minds' and now I'm like 'what if I only write mind readers from now on'.

What do you listen to while writing?

Every fic has a specific playlist, which I'll put on repeat when I'm mulling or actually writing to help me get into the headspace for the fic. Sometimes if I'm writing something intense or don't want to be distracted by lyrics, I put on a 24hr playlist of Star Trek engine noises, which works better than any white noise I've ever used.

Questions if anyone else wants one.

#thank you for the ask <3

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mellifluousoctopus · 2 years

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Within less than 24hrs i ave seen a S. Rogers and a P. Parker on my service queue at work, if we get a Stark I'll let y'all know

#marvel #mcu

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a-swiss-and-a-spaniard · 8 months

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Roger Federer | 24 hrs with Roger — London: All Are Welcome

#roger federer #24hrs with roger #side questerer #the first gif is adorable somehow #just a little guy sitting on a stool #everything looks delicious btw #I would love to try it #Roger rolling up his sleeves before getting to work >>>>>>#I'm still not so sure about his cooking skills but I absolutely love he's getting involved in the kitchen!!#I need all the fics where Roger helps Rafa cook and where they cook with the kids #and there was this fic idea/sort of au where Roger hires a personal chef (Rafa ofc) and falls in love with him #someone write it I can't deal with any more wips

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lookbluesoup · 3 years

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Writing US Military Characters

This is a non-exhaustive list of some common ‘quirks’ or habits that can give away a character’s military experience. Wrote it up for myself and it’s particularly useful when I want to show instead of tell. These are based on first person accounts from several vets! Thought others might like to use it too for a reference :D Ones with * or ** came up particularly often.

Like any guide, it’s just that - a guide, not a set of rules! A character is unlikely to do all of these, and other factors like ADHD, trauma, or just personality might effect what sticks. People are endlessly diverse!

Eat, Drink, Dress, and Rest

* High tolerance for physical discomfort

** Eat very fast, and aren’t picky about the taste

** Can sleep anywhere - on a helicopter, in enemy territory, up high, underground, when it’s loud, when it’s quiet

* Can operate effectively without sleep for over 24hrs, or with erratic and limited sleep for days

** Wake up early, 0500-0700; Wake up quickly and ready for action

* Hair cut regularly. Beards stay clean shaven (alternatively some may avoid shaving when out of uniform)

** Dress practically and neatly, jackets buttoned/zipped up, ironed, polished

Take hat off indoors

Organization and Talents

Gearhead

Gun nut

Detail oriented

** Pockets are meticulous. The same thing always goes into the same pocket, for easy reach. Pockets never full to bulging. Carry multitool.

** Hands stay out of pockets - ready. (Hands in pockets is forbidden in the military. Some Special Forces may keep their hands in pockets, as their ‘grooming’ rules are less enforced. Because they can)

Always carry things with left hand (and ”southpaws” must learn to use standard right-handed weapons)

** Know how to clean house and keep it organized (may choose not to out of uniform)

** Can make bed and shower fast

Organize clothes to be able to dress and maneuver their own space in pitch black (Navy specifically)

Know how to sew basic repairs (i.e. a button)

Layout items before packing. Tight roll clothes. Pack efficiently

** Can read maps effectively, may prefer them to a GPS, use landmarks

Deadlines not always considered concrete (There is a military mantra, “Hurry up and wait.” Often one would be told to complete something or arrive somewhere at a certain time, but nothing would happen due to someone else’s task meant to be finished earlier still being incomplete)

** Alternatively (or in tandem), arrive 5-30 minutes early to every event

Things kept packed securely in the car, “ready for sea” and “heavy rolls” (Navy specifically)

Routines and Social

** Respect for the “Other” or “Them” - other religions, cultures, races, and ethnicities - had to work crammed together with a diverse group that may have strongly opposing viewpoints, and learn to trust each other to have their backs in dangerous situations (For many, military is their first real experience with different cultures and beliefs)

* Respect ≠ Like. Will go above and beyond for a respected leader, even if they are disliked

Deeply suspicious of red tape, bureaucracy, and bosses on power trips, and will only do the minimum required for these

** Low tolerance for slacking/job skirting

* Volunteer other people for tasks, and willing to be volunteered for things

Don’t ask people to do things they aren’t willing to do themselves

Still follow orders of bosses they dislike. Still have the backs of coworkers they dislike

** Like clear orders, responsibilities, chain of command, and penalties

* Have Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C

Actions matter more than ceremony; definite respect for processions, but excessive reverence for the flag/anthem/etc viewed as posturing rather than true patriotism

High tolerance for boredom

** Adaptable, high stress tolerance, work efficiently, self reliant

** Avoid having their back to an opening (windows/doors/etc) or sitting anywhere someone can sneak up on them from

* Avoid loud, crowded areas, check perimeters, barricade doors, sleep last in a group (may coincide with PTSD)

Always walk on the right side of a road/grocery aisle/etc

Stand at parade rest, walk cadence, walk fast

* Walk quietly, even in boots, sneak quickly (military crouch run)

De-escalation in violence - in protective armed situations the standard is: 1) multiple warnings, 2) warning shots, 3) shoot to incapacitate. Shoot to kill is a last resort. (not following these steps could get an ally or potential ally killed) In verbal disagreement, resolve an issue before it escalates

* Wariness toward and tendency to feel Other’ed by civilians

* Immediate acceptance toward other military, expectation of shared values

Vernacular

Observe before speaking in a situation, only speak if it seems significantly important to

Refer to people as “Sir” or “Ma’am”

Giving out nicknames

** Speak directly, make direct eye contact (sometimes comes off as rude, often intimidates)

* Don’t take criticism or disagreement personally, expect others not to, either, and will point out flaws even to superiors (but again, orders are respected)

** Clear communication, acknowledge messages by replying, even if that’s just a thumbs up or down

** Swearing. Lots of swearing. Every other word is swearing

** Dark sense of humor, and racist/sexist jokes - not indicative of individual’s actual belief system or violent tendencies

Unbothered by angry yelling, angry quiet people are more concerning

** Point with ‘knife hands’, not just a single finger

** Use a 24 hour clock instead of a 12 am/pm; i.e. 0800 hours, not 8am (Called ”Military Time” in the US)

Describe locations by o’clock directions, i.e. dog standing at 6 o’clock

* Write out dates as day-month-year (US usually does month-day-year) i.e. 21Oct57

** Use phonetic alphabet to spell things out, or at least have it memorized

** Habitually use military terms or sayings, including:

Good to go - Mission ready, ready to proceed

Squared away - Compliment indicating exemplary service

Popping a smoke - Need to get out of here [From using smoke grenades to call helicopters for extraction]

“Sir yes sir” [A ‘sir sandwich’]

FUBAR - F*cked up beyond all recognition

SNAFU - Situation normal, all f*cked up

TARFU - Things are really f*cked up

BOLO - Be on the lookout

ATL - Attempt to locate

IAW - In accordance with

Civilian - Non-military person

Roger - Message received and understood

“Say again your last.” - What?

Firearm- Gun

Ruck - backpack

March - walk

Double time - running

PT - working out

Rally point - meetup

Field day - Spring Cleaning (Navy specifically)

Get smoked - Laps, pushups, etc as punishment

#military #writing #guide #writing tips #text #long post

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

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waiting on you > steve rogers

|| pairing: steve rogers x black!reader

|| word count: 3,608

|| warnings: smut, sex, angst, sad steve, sad reader, friends to lovers

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 N4: love confessions

|| note: here it is! 24hrs late BUT, technically, you can celebrate a birthday for like an entire week. this got stupid sad because i was listening to the atonement soundtrack again. anyway, happy birthday to this big, blonde, dummy - the only reason that july 4th means anything to me anymore. i went heavy with the italics again.

divider by @writeyourmindaway

gifs (at the bottom) by @/largoaneditt

You don’t know why this idiot makes you so nervous. He’s a big, blonde… idiot, but yet here you are, nursing your third beer, staring at him from the corner of the room as he wiggles his hips - rather suggestively. He stands next to Sam, both of them facing the opposite wall, beers in hand, shaking their asses as the rest of the party goers hoot and holler.

“I don’t know Rogers,” Bucky says, shaking his head, “I think your age is finally catching up with your ass.”

“Bullshit,” Steve laughs, “Listen, I happily turn over my shield and suit to you, Sam, but that is my moniker! Look at it!” He shouts, pointing to his ass, “This will always be America’s ass!”

The room erupts in laughter and you can’t help but chuckle yourself. Idiots. All of them. He looks good tonight though - relaxed, finally. You’ve known them all for just a little while, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Bucky, but since Steve has officially decided to retire, he’s like a completely different person. He’s Steve - not Captain America. Which has actually proven to be an absolute nightmare for you because if you thought you had a crush on Captain America... whew, be still your beating vagina.

Steve is funny. Steve is confident, and laid back, and wears fitted chinos with Vans Classic Slip Ons. You have Sam to thank for this updated style of Steve’s, and you honestly want to stab Sam right through his buff chest. He’s made it impossible for you to be around Steve without having to change your underwear - a fact that Sam finds hilarious, but your wallet does not.

But, it’s more than that. Steve is also warm. He’s attentive to his friends. He listens. He cares. Steve goes out of his way to make people feel welcome, even you, the first night you wandered back to Sam and Bucky’s apartment with Wanda for one of their parties. You never left Wanda’s side, keeping your head down, your eyes cast at your hands and feet. He picked up on your nervousness quickly, but didn’t outwardly address it. He just made sure you always had a drink in your hand, a chip or sandwich to nibble on - he even adjusted the thermostat when he noticed you running your hands up and down your arms.

Steve is easy to talk to. Steve is humble, reliable, dependable, strong - both physically and mentally - but he’s also... emotional and vulnerable - not just sometimes, but almost all the time. Then, he can turn right around and throw somebody through a wall. Steven Grant Rogers is dangerous… and you think you lov -

You take a sip of your beer, closing your eyes quickly to chase those thoughts away, and reach for another chip, loading it up with some of Wanda’s famous dip before you shove it into your mouth, the taste calms your nerves.

“Why are you hiding over here?”

His voice makes you jump. You pop open your eyes and inhale sharply as the one and only Steve Rogers towers over you. He smiles softly as you blink at him, before he reaches for a chip and pops it into his mouth.

“I’m not hiding,” you answer quickly, scrunching your face, “I’m eating, there’s nothing wrong with eating.”

“You’re quiet tonight.” He says, chewing slowly as he shoves his hand into his pocket and narrows his eyes at you, “You okay?”

You scoff, and roll your eyes to try and pretend that you have no idea what he’s talking about, “I’m fine, Rogers.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop,” you laugh, raising your hand, “I’m fine.”

He shrugs, one of those I know you’re not okay, but I’m gonna drop it shrugs, and takes another long swig of his beer, “You know,” he starts, nodding slowly, “You still haven’t wished me a happy birthday. That’s kinda rude.”

“Well,” you laugh, “Don’t hold your breath. You’ve had your fair share of birthday wishes over the last, you know, one hundred and two years.”

He shakes his head, smiling at your sarcasm. You wiggle your eyebrows and push your chin forward a little, slightly proud of your attitude and your way of not falling into a giggly, stupid mess in front of him. Then, suddenly, there’s a… shift. All of the false confidence you had just seconds before floods out of you as his eyes drift down your body, before snapping back up to your wide eyes. He tilts his head and that soft smile appears again.

You’re not drunk enough for this. You lift your beer to your lips and focus on finishing it as quickly as possible as you glance away from him and focus on something, anything else in the room. You immediately grab another green glass bottle from the ice bucket, handing it to him for him to pop off the cap. You hear him chuckle, and then feel his large hand wrapping around your wrist before you're being pulled through the apartment.

“Excuse me,” you laugh a little, having to nearly jog to keep up with his long strides, “Sir, this is kidnapping.”

You let him pull you out of the apartment and up a few flights of stairs before you burst out onto the roof. He pulls you to the edge of the building, dropping your arm so he can rest his hands against the ledge. You cut your eyes towards him as you grip your beer bottle in your hands. He gazes out over the city, the lights from the buildings and the stars lighting up his eyes. His expression is soft as no doubt hundreds of memories flash through his head.

“It’s nice up here, huh?” He says after a minute.

“It is.” You nod, casting your eyes out over the illuminated city, “I’m kind of mad you’ve been hiding this from me.”

“You’ve been hiding from me.” Your mouth drops at the sudden admission. He turns his head towards you, blinking, “You’re always hiding from me.”

“I don’t,” you start, shaking your head as you swallow hard. You laugh nervously and try to play it off, “What are you talking about, Rogers? You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” He shrugs, “I can’t - I haven’t been drunk since 1939. I just, I like you and, I don’t know,” he trails off, turning away from you to look back out over the city, “You just are always so distant when you’re around me.”

You stare at the side of his face, your eyes wide, your mouth literally hanging open. You grip the glass bottle in both of your hands as your mind recaps the words that have just left his mouth. I like you. You’re always hiding from me.

“I think you like to hide though,” he says, taking your beer from your hands and taking a swig, “It’s like a mechanism, or something. That’s what my therapist told me that I do, so, I guess I can kinda see it in other people now.”

“Therapist?” you ask, your voice soft.

He nods, still looking out over the city, “Mmhmm, at Bucky’s persistence. It’s nice to hide though, right? Like, you can be here but not here at the same time? Present, but not present.” He clears his throat, dropping his head, “You can feel but not feel.”

Your eyes drift away from him slowly, knowing exactly what he’s talking about - feeling exactly what he’s feeling. It is nice to hide. You’ve done it your whole life, but seemingly more over the past few years, “Yeah,” you finally offer, “It is.”

The air is warm as it whips around you on this July night. Brooklyn is as alive as ever - cars honking, people laughing and chatting on the streets below, planes flying over head. You swallow again as you cast your eyes down to your feet, his words still running on a loop through your head. I like you. You’re always hiding from me.

“I do like you, I mean that. I do.” You snap your eyes back up to the side of his face as he keeps his head down, “I remember the first time you came over with Wanda.” He turns towards you and smiles, “You had on that flowery thing, I don’t know what it’s called.”

That night flashes before your eyes. Apparently he’s been staring at you from the corner of the room too, “A romper. I love that thing.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, “You looked amazing.”

“Steve, is everything okay?” You ask suddenly, because, clearly, he’s not okay.

He nods again, smiles again, “Yeah. Are you okay?”

You laugh out of… you’re not really sure. Surprise? Nerves? Confusion? Or maybe, just the fact that you’re realizing that he’s not okay and you’re not okay - and the two of you are desperately trying to prove that you are okay, but at the same time trying to deal with the fact that you’re not okay.

“Yeah,” you titter softly, “I’m okay.”

“Good.” He says, taking another drink of your beer, “I’m gonna get more. I’ll be back.”

Without another word to you, he moves away from the ledge and disappears behind the heavy metal door. You let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding and turn to face the cityscape. It is nice out here. Calming.

Your heart sinks a little when you start to think about Steve wasting hour after hour, day after day, up here, all by himself, trying to deal with just living. He’s been Captain America for damn near eighty years - now he’s just Steve, but in 2020 - not 1939. He doesn’t know this Steve.

You’re always hiding from me.

You turn away from the city, spotting an old, lumpy couch tucked in the corner of the roof. You move towards it slowly, rubbing your fingers against your pant leg as you move. You plop down and stare at your fingers as you start to rub them roughly. I like you. Fuck. That’s all you’ve wanted to hear, right? Since the day you laid eyes on him, like every other woman across the United States. It’s here, right in front of you and -

The door opens, the metal creaking as Steve steps through it. It slams shut and you jump a little from the jarring sound. He turns to you, but dips his head, keeping his eyes low as he steps towards you and then falls onto the couch beside you. He hands you a beer and clinks the necks together before he takes a drink. You follow suit, swallowing the golden liquid slowly as you keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for being so blunt,” he laughs, spinning the dark green glass in his hands, “I don’t want you to be put off or anything. I’m not trying to make a move on you, I’m just-” he drops his head again, “It’s been weird for me, lately.”

“Don’t be sorry. Turning a hundred and two would be weird for anyone.” You laugh.

“Bucky seems to be doing okay.” He smiles, keeping his eyes on his beer, “I’m happy for him, I really am. He and Sam are just so good together.”

“They are,” you smile, “But you feel stuck, right? Like everybody is moving and you’re just standing still.”

He nods slowly as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his fingers picking at the label glued onto the glass bottle, “I still want us to be friends, okay?” He picks his head up and turns to you, his eyes as blue as ever, but just a little sad and worried, “Just… forget about what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

You sit your bottle between your legs and tap your manicured fingers against it as another silence drops over the two of you, “I don’t mean to hide,” you say quietly, ignoring his comment to just forget it, “You’re right, I do like to, but I don’t mean to. Not from you, anyway.”

You feel his eyes on you, wandering around before he speaks, “Why not from me?”

You laugh, sadly, “I um, I was married a few years ago. He um, he,” the emotion clogs up your throat. Fuck, it’s been two years and you still can’t talk about him. You shake your head, keeping your eyes on your hands, “I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” You whisper, “I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time, it’s just, whenever I’m around you… it just scares me, I guess.”

You see a shadow of his long arm reaching for you. Then, the rather soft tips of his fingers trace your chin before he lifts it slowly, so he can look at you - really look at you. You close your eyes before the two of you can make eye contact and smile nervously as a tear slips from the corner of your eye. He hums to himself as the backs of his fingers sweep across your cheek, removing the tear, before they move back down to cup your chin.

“Open your eyes.”

You laugh, a sad smile on your face, “I can’t.”

“You can.” He presses, “Open your eyes, please.”

You take a breath, pressing your lips together as your eyes start to flutter. You blink furiously, but focus in on him - his face, his eyes - and then exhale deeply. You’ve been waiting to exhale for two long years. He closes the distance between the two of you before you can process it, and his lips are suddenly on yours. Soft. Warm. Still. His hands cup your face as you rest yours on his broad shoulders, gripping slightly.

He pulls away but barely, still so close that his lips rest on yours. You open your eyes again to find his closed, his long dark eyelashes splashing against his smooth skin. He takes slow, deliberate breaths, the air from him washing over your face. You lift your hands, slowly, and place them on either side of his face, a small smile curling onto your lips. You press your mouth to his again. A little harder than the first time; and Steve responds a little harder this time.

The kiss doesn’t dissolve into desperation, regardless of if the two of you feel desperate - going untouched for so long. It stays sweet. It stays gentle, the kiss. You’re pulled into his lap, straddling his legs with yours, and it feels like you belong here. His tongue pushes, softly, asking permission by sweeping across your bottom lip. You grant it, the permission he asks for, without hesitation.

You moan at the warmth of his velvety tongue. It spreads through you quickly, warming parts of you that you thought were long dead. His tongue slides along yours as he holds you to him, pressing his fingers into your thin t-shirt and back, pulling you close. So close. He licks at the roof of your mouth before he pulls your top lip between his, sucking gently. It makes you moan again.

Steve kisses down your chin and throat, working his way to the crook of your neck as he continues to hold you so tight. He nips at your skin, finding that little spot that sends a direct bolt of lightning to your core. You throw your head back, biting down into your bottom lip as you dig your fingers into his shoulders. Your hips start to push into his as his warm fingers move underneath your shirt to feel your flesh for the first time.

Your mouth open falls as you start to pant. Now that his fingers are on your skin - that whole desperation thing starts to kick up. He pushes your shirt up, up over your breasts and then just stops there, staring up at you with those eyes. His thumbs rub your sides as he holds them. He pushes in again, and presses his lips to the center of your chest, right in the valley between your breasts and then just rests there; breathing you in, feeling you. You smile, and run your fingers over the top of his head and through his hair before you rest your chin on his head.

His fingers start to roam again, slipping along the band of your jeans. You bite your lip as you push your hips forward; ready. The button on your jeans pops, the zipper rolls down and you're on your back, Steve’s weight now pushing you into the cushions. Your legs are suddenly bare - you feel the warm air brushing along your skin. His lips are back on your neck as you wrap your arms around him, spreading your legs for him to settle in between.

He fumbles around, pulling himself free, pushing your thin panties to the side. You’re nervous, he’s nervous - you can feel him shaking, but just a little. Then you both gasp as you're suddenly full of him and he’s encased by you. You groan, and so does he. His breath washes over your face as you both get used to the feeling again.

He braids his fingers with yours and pushes them up over your head as he kisses you deeply. He starts to move - his hips pushing into yours, and then pulling away. You start to pant as his strokes get deeper - harder - as he breathes directly into your mouth. It’s sweet, his breath, even as it’s laced with alcohol.

God, he’s such a soft lover. His hands, his lips, his thrusts, all just so soft. Passionate. Caring. He hovers over you, his eyes closed as he leans in to kiss you gently, his lips barely touching yours. You cup his cheek in your hand as his lips brush along yours, both of you breathing each other's air as his hips tenderly push into yours. He drops his lips to your throat again, kissing the base of your neck before he runs the tip of his nose up your chin - a small, barely there smile on his face.

You kiss him hard, only breaking it to hiss. Your toes curl as the familiar pull in your stomach starts to build. Steve nuzzles into your neck, keeping his fingers laced with yours as his hips continue to grind. Your and his sounds mix and mingle before they are carried away by the soft breeze. Your heart starts to beat hard against your chest, your blood rushes as your body starts to tighten.

He lifts your leg, hiking it over his hip but holds his hand there, gripping and groping your flesh softly as his thrusts now reach deeper. You gasp, gripping his biceps, your fingers pushing indents into his skin as your sex quivers from the attention. You bite down into your bottom lip, whimpering just a little as a dull pain ripples through you as you stretch to accommodate him - it’s been too long and he’s, more, than you expected.

“Y’okay?” He slurs, his forehead resting against yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, “Baby, you-”

“Fine,” you breathe, “I’m fine- ah! -” you hiss as he hits that spot, “S’good, Steve. Don’stop… please.”

And then it blooms. It starts slow, at the tips of your toes before it floods throughout every inch of your body. You dig your fingers into his hands as you come, your hips bucking, your pants and cries loud and thick. He only lasts seconds longer, before his hips hitch and the growls scratch at the back of his throat.

The calm is beautiful afterward. It’s not awkward or strained. You’re just two people trying to be okay, trying to reach out, trying to heal and move forward - trying to deal with the feelings swirling around in your chests and minds. There’s a blanket thrown over the back of the couch - he tugs it over the two of you, covering you from the elements and any prying eyes if they happen up onto the roof.

You jump when the first firework explodes in the air. He chuckles and pulls you into his side, kissing your face as he drags his fingers, over your collar bones. Another firework goes off, and then another, and another, bringing you both back into the present. No more hiding.

“I think I love you,” he whispers, watching the fireworks through your fingers as he lifts your hand into the air, “Is that weird?”

“Shit,” you laugh, curling your fingers between his, “I hope not, cuz I think I love you.”

Another firework pops in the air - red, white, and blue splashing against the dark sky. But all you can see are your hands, your small fingers laced with his long ones, twisting and curling around one another. He flattens his palm to yours before he brings it down to his lips, giving each finger a kiss before he lays a gentle one on the back of your hand.

“You still haven’t wished me a happy birthday.”

You laugh loudly, pushing his shoulder, “And I’m still not gonna!”

“Why not?” he asks, laughing, picking your hands up again to watch your fingers dance with one another's, “That’s mean.”

“I’m a Taurus.”

Steve’s laugh makes you smile - yet another thing to add to the list of why you love this big idiot of a man.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, pushing his nose into the side of your face as he nuzzles close, “You’ve got every year of the rest of your life to wish me a happy birthday.”

You don’t answer. You just smile harder and roll your face towards his, rubbing your nose along his.

Steve Rogers is also a dreamer - how lovely.

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