#Roger taylor x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brian-roger-deaky-and-fred · 2 years

Text

Bed Rest (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: When Roger's final calls for him to give a medical exam to a patient of his choice, his sleepy, sweet little roommate (Y/N) is more than willing to help.

Warnings: Curse Words, Mentions of a Mean Ex-Boyfriend, Slight Nakedness?, Pining, Fluff, Mentions of Body Insecurity

A/N: I wrote this a long while ago for a friend but never got around to giving it to her!! Well she's not feeling well today so I figured it was a good time :^) I love you, darling. (I'll get a read more cut on this asap!!)

P.S. I GET TO GO TO A QUEEN CONCERT TOMORROW. I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED FOR ANYTHING.

************************

Roger was stumped from the moment his professor had passed out the packet. It sounded simple enough, sure. A full practice exam on a patient of his choice. It'd be an easy test grade for him. That is, if he could find a patient.

He'd wracked his brain. It's not like he could ask any of the boys to be his subject. I mean, he technically could, but he sure as hell wouldn't be able to look any of them in the eye again after performing a thorough medical exam. God knows he couldn't ask any of his family members. Somehow, that seemed even worse. He even had a handful of ex girlfriends he'd considered choosing from, but decided that in all honesty, he'd rather take a failing grade.

He'd thought on it for a week now, habitually ignoring the assignment whenever it drifted to the front of his mind. But now, it was Sunday night, and his report was due the next morning. He chewed his thumb as he scanned his biology textbook, rubbing his shoulder nervously with his free hand.

"What's wrong?"

Roger's neck ached when he turned around to look at you, and he suddenly realized how long he'd been stuck hunched over his coursework. He smiled softly to himself as you carefully sat down a mug of tea in front of him.

"What do you mean?" He hummed, shoulders clicking as he stretched his arms up above his head. He reached for his drink with a little groan.

Taking one last sip, you rested your mug beside his and brushed his mussed hair back a bit, revealing the collar of his tshirt. He was confused for a moment until you gently pulled the neck of his shirt to reveal his collarbone, red from the constant friction of his rough fingertips. Your brow furrowed, "You're rubbing yourself red, bub."

Roger's chest felt light at the thought of you looking after him. He smiled softly, giving your hand a little appreciative squeeze. " 'm alright, lovie. I promise. 've just got a project due tomorrow and I haven't even started." He sighed, tossing the packet onto his textbook.

You frowned, sitting beside him at the table and fetching the papers, skimming through them. "What all needs done?"

Roger smiled again, to himself. You'd been overworked yourself, recently. Three papers due that week as well as a test. This had been your first free day in a long while, yet here you were, ready to help.

"It's not a hard assignment. I basically just need to give a physical. The thing is, all the volunteer spots were full in the clinic. Don't really have a subject." He sighed, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair.

Your eyes scanned the paper again as he sighed.

"If it were just a check up I'd just ask one of the boys or something, you know? But it's...it's just a lot. I don't know. Pretty...intimate?"

Your eyes went wide at the word. You swallowed thickly, "Intimate?"

"Well, 's nothing weird, I suppose. 's all normal practice. Just stuff that makes you a bit squirmy, I think."

Your eyes caught on the list. Throat. Ears. Mouth. Eyes. Nose. Everything seemed pretty run of the mill until you reached the last note of the bunch. Pelvic. Your pulse sped a bit at the thought. His warm, rough hands carefully feeling over your tummy and hips.

Your stomach churned. You'd been Roger's roommate for nearly four years now, and his best friend for far longer. He'd had girls over plenty of times. It had never really bothered you to accidentally walk in on a drunken makeout or see a girl on her way out the morning after. That is, until one afternoon you'd come home from class to find him sitting on the couch, a girl fast asleep across his lap with her forehead snuggled in against his neck. He toyed with her hair passively and traced shapes over her skin as he gave you an apologetic smile. "Sorry..." he'd whispered. "She's hungover. Too poorly to go on just yet. I promise I won't let her stay long."

Something in you felt crushed at the sight. Why couldn't you have that? Why couldn't you doze off in his lap and let him hold you tight and play with your hair? Why couldn't he draw soft little shapes over your skin?

It'd been so long since you'd felt gentle, loving touches. It'd been so long since you'd been taken care of. You were starved for it. And now, the opprotunity had been dropped in front of you. Roger was looking for someone to take care of.

"I...I'm...."

Roger's blue eyes met yours, his brow raising.

"I can do it...with you..."

His stomach flipped. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, cheeks quickly going red. "Y-Your project, I mean." You couldn't read his expression, and you were starting to crumble in on yourself a bit until his voice broke your train of thought.

"You would do that?" He could see your blush now, warming your cheeks and the tops of your ears. "You wouldn't mind it?"

You gave a little shrug, your muscles starting to relax just now that you knew he wasn't laughing at you. "Want to help you...I wouldn't mind it I don't think. Haven't had a check up in a long time."

"I wanted to ask you", He admitted. "You were the first person I thought of, actually I just...I don't know. Felt a bit tone deaf."

You crooked your brow, though you were relieved that you were someone he'd actually considered. "Tone deaf?"

"Well yeah, I..." He shrugged, and you could've sworn you saw his cheeks go pink too. "I just...We'd talked in the past about how Daniel was an ass to you about your body... Didn't want to ask you to take off your shirt or be vulnerable for me after you've dealt with all that, hm?"

Your heart ached. You'd forgotten you'd told him about Daniel. You found yourself surprised he'd remembered something so trivial as an offhanded complaint you'd made about your ex boyfriend.

In Roger's mind, it'd been hard to forget. He'd hated Daniel from the moment you'd started dating him, and while surely some of that hate could be attributed to jealousy, most if it came from the soft sobs Roger would hear coming from your room after your night's out with him. Daniel always had some little sharp edged comment to make about what you were eating or how you looked. Roger had nearly flinched the first time he'd heard Daniel scold you, knowing exactly how deep his comments would really cut.

"I'd do it for you." Roger was pulled from his memory by your tiny, shy voice. "Don't think I'd be so scared with you."

"You're sure?"

You thought for a moment. Was this a good idea? Definitely not. But somehow, you were desperate enough risk embarrassing yourself.

"Yeah. Wanna help."

He gave a grateful smile, flipping through the pages of the packet. "I promise I'll try and make sure it's over quickly, alright? Just a check up." He said this, mostly for his own sanity. Just a quick check up, right? It's routine. No reason for his heart to race or his ears to heat up. "Do you wanna go sit on my bed? And I'll meet you in there? Just have to grab my kit."

You nodded quickly, trying to cool your cheeks down a bit as you wandered off to his room.

This wasn't so bad. His room. You'd been in Roger's room with him loads of times. It was small and cozy and warm and it smelled like him. You could look at all the photos and posters and magazine clippings he'd stuck to the walls every which way. You sat on his worn comforter nervously, before giving in and laying down on his bed, your head snuggled into his pillow. Gosh he smelled good.

He always came home so beaten after shows, only sparing enough energy to lazily wash off before he fell into his unmade bed. So many times you'd thought about how nice it'd be to kiss him to sleep, then. To press your lips to the water droplets that scattered over his belly and hips. To comb through his wet locks with your fingers and smell traces of his body wash on his still-flushed skin.

This was close enough, for now, though. Drifting off in his bed, imagining him cradling your face...cooing your name softly...

But you weren't imagining it. Your eyes fluttered open for a minute to find your roommate there before you, grazing your cheek with his thumb and trying to wake you softly. His voice was sweet, and he had a sympathetic smile. "Sleepy thing...you want me to let you rest, sweetheart?"

"No..." you hummed softly. "Don' go." You held his hand to your face as if you were worried he'd run off. "Just got comfortable is all."

Roger smiled to himself. What a sight to find you curled up on his bed, your head resting against his pillows. He could get used to that.

" 's alright, lamb. You can stay cozy. We'll be quick, I promise."

He squeezed your hand where you still held his before thumbing through the packet he'd been given. He squinted at it for a moment before frowning and sighing, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and sliding them onto his nose. He didn't notice your pleased smile at this development as he skimmed the page.

"Alright..." you watched his pen as he quickly jotted down the information he already knew; Your full name, age, and birthday. He passed you the pen, "Do you want to write down your weight? I promise I won't look if you don't want me to. Or we could just skip it if you'd rather?"

Your chest ached at his desperation for you to feel comfortable. You gave him a grateful smile and took the pen, scribbling down an estimate. He returned the smile with one that read as both thankful and reassuring, and continued down the list of questions.

"Ok. Interview's over. I promise." He clicked his pen, rolling his eyes in a way that made you hum a giggle. "Just going to run through this checklist now. Is that ok? Look you over?"

You nodded sweetly, his thumb grazing over the back of your hand soothingly.

"How have you been feeling lately, sweetheart?" He said it so earnestly you couldn't tell if he was asking for the exam or if he was truly just checking in on you.

" 'm alright." You yawned. "Been a bit tired from school and all but that's normal, I think." He nodded, scribbling something down.

"Nothing's been hurting you?"

You could have let him dote over you forever. "I mean, I've been a bit anxious. Maybe a headache or a tummy ache here or there but nothing terrible."

" 'm sorry, love." He hummed under his breath as he noted that, and you barely heard him. "Any muscle soreness?"

"Only if I sleep wrong."

You giggled weakly and his heart fluttered at the sound, "Christ, don't I know it." He shook his head. "I wake up feeling bloody geriatric after shows."

You frowned slightly at the idea of him in pain, but he didn't seem too phased as he dug through his bag, pulling out a little reflex hammer and helping you sit up a bit.

"Ok, darling. This won't hurt. Just gonna let you kick me around for a bit eh?" He chuckled and you smiled, watching carefully as he gently tapped a spot on your right kneecap, making your reflex fire. "Good." He cooed, checking off something on the paper before testing your left as well. "Very nice, love."

He gently tucked the little hammer away, before holding out his hands to you.

"Ok sweetheart...I'm gonna hold your hands ok? And I'm going to press up on them. Keep me from lifting them ok? Just push down."

You nodded, pressing down against his hands as he pressed up against yours.

"Good! That's my girl." He grinned. You tried to hide your blush, but were unsure if you'd managed.

He tried the same test in a few other spots and made a note under the little header reading "Musculo-Skeletal" before turning the page. He pulled his stethoscope from his bag,

"I'm sure you're acquainted with this hm?"

You nodded, "You'll listen to my heart?

"And your lungs. Just making sure everything's sounding nice in there." He warmed up the bell on the his sleeve, "Can I tuck this under your shirt collar? Have a listen?"

You laid back for him, allowing him to slip a hand beneath your shirt to press the scope against your heart. You couldn't help the happy, relaxed sigh that escaped you at the feeling of his warm hand on your heart. In all honesty, you were too sleepy to realize that you'd even made a sound in the first place. Again, Roger's tummy flipped. He brushed some baby hairs back from your forehead lovingly and smiled to himself. "That's it, darling. Take those nice deep breaths for me."

You tried to steady your breathing out and think of things not involving the pretty blonde boy beside you, seeing as he could hear your actively rising heartrate. If he noticed, he didn't say anything, but his cheeks were sweet and rosy as he untucked his hand from your collar and wrote something down.

"Perfect...."

You watched his blue eyes focus in as he wrote, his brow furrowing as he made note of your caffeine intake, which he already knew.

"Rog?"

"Hm?" He glanced up to see your sleepy, enamoured face, and he couldn't help but wish he could hold you. Wish he could crawl right into bed and watch those pretty eyes grow heavier and heavier until you couldn't keep them open any longer.

You yawned, "Can I listen to your heart too?"

His eyebrows raised, heart melting. "Of course love...here. Let me just-" He went to find his stethoscope again in his bag, but before he could, you'd crawled in close to him to rest your head against his chest. He wondered momentarily if you'd heard his heart stop. He relaxed into you, wrapping his arms around you for a moment to hold you while you listened. He felt you breathe a laugh into his sweater and he smirked, pulling back a few inches to look at you. "What is it?"

"Sounds just like your drumming."

Roger laughed, giving you a good squeeze and a little kiss on your forehead. Your eyes meet his and your tummy flipped.

He smiled sofly, brushing through your hair with his fingers. "This next part is a bit more... intimate. Is that ok? We don't have to do it at all if you aren't comfortable. Don't want to make you feel bad."

Part of you wanted to run and hide. The other part of you was just too curious. Too desperate to be looked after by the pretty boy holding you on his chest.

"I...I wanna try it."

He rubbed your back soothingly. "Ok darling. Just let me know right away if you change your mind and we'll stop ok?"

You nodded obediently, squirming a bit at the eye contact.

"Alright...do you..um....do you think you can undress for me love? Down to your bra and panties? " A familiar ache formed low in your tummy. You never thought you'd be hearing Roger's voice asking you to undress for him. Again, you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously.

"Do you want me to turn my back, honey?"

"N-No it's ok. I'm ok."

Roger tried to get himself to look away, but he couldn't help but let his eyes trail over your soft tummy and breasts as you pull off your shirt, revealing your bra to him. He'd seen that one come through the wash several times. He never thought he'd get to see it on you.

The blush on your face had slowly started traveling down your chest to your tummy as you unbuttoned your pants, and it took everything in Roger not to groan when you pushed your jeans down off your hips to expose your ass and thighs. He was pulled from his thoughts before he could get himself too worked up though, as you got tangled in the fabric and fell backwards from your knees, flat onto his bed. You giggled and he grinned, enjoying the sound of your laugh and helping you pull them the rest of the way off of your shins and over your ankles.

He saw you give a shiver and chew your thumbnail nervously and he quickly grabbed the corner of his comforter, tugging it up around your shoulders so you could snuggle into it. "Ok...I'm supposed to be identifying pulse points. Does that sound alright?"

You nodded, snug and cozy in his blankets. His heart felt melty at the sight.

"Ok. I'm going to start up here with temporal...lay back for me darling...that's it."

Carefully, he guided your head back to rest against his pillow. You let him hold your face in his hands as he ever so gently felt around your temples with his ring and middle finger. He looked so pretty and focused there, and he held you like that for a moment, feeling your heartbeat.

"Good, sweetheart." He put a check on his list. "Moving down to facial, and carotid."

His fingers trailed down your face lightly to tenderly press just below your jaw. Everything in you wanted to whimper and arch into his touches, but you managed to ignore the urge. He placed another check down on his paper before moving to cradle your neck.

"This is a sensitive spot, so tell me if it hurts, ok?"

Holding your neck with one hand, Roger grazed two of his fingers along your sternum, pressing them carefully along your collarbone. It didn't hurt. Just a light pressure, right against your throat. " 's that hurting?"

"N-No..." you whispered, not quite trusting your voice.

"Good..." Roger swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the ache in his stomach.

He continued down your chest, feeling the pulse below your breast as well as the ones down your arms. He paused for a moment when he saw the last on his list, his cheeks going rosy.

"What is it?" You cooed, taking his hand in your little one. Warmth bloomed across his chest and he felt a tug at the corners of his mouth.

"This last one is um...well...it's right here." Roger sat up on his knees to show you the spot... Right along his thigh below his stomach. Oh.

"Oh..."

He scratched his neck, about to just shake off the whole idea and mark that one off the list, when you spread your legs ever so slightly for him.

He took a little breath, surprised. "Oh love, we can just mark it off if you'd like. Are you sure? "

You nodded, yawning again. Perhaps normally you'd have a bit more energy to be embarrassed or insecure, but right now? You were all his. Completely malleable. You were sleepy and his hands were warm and he always hummed the sweetest little words of encouragment as he worked. He could have touched you wherever he'd liked and you wouldn't have minded it. You knew Roger would take care of you.

You tugged at the waistband of your panties a bit, "Need t' take 'em off?"

His stomach jumped and he caught your hand, rubbing his thumb over your wrist as he gave your hip a squeeze. "No no 's alright sweetheart. Just lay back for me. I'll be quick."

You nodded and rubbed your eyes, wiggling a bit to get comfy again. Roger paused for a moment, letting his eyes trace over your chest and your pretty little tummy...just soft enough to make you warm and grabable. God and your hips...Roger could have written sonnets about your hips and your thighs. He could've spent hours admiring your soft arms and your back and the little freckles that dotted you here and there and-

He shook his head, clearing his throat as he thumbed at the waistband of your underwear. "Ok, love. I've got you. Just lay nice and still for me alright?"

You took his free hand in yours and held it loosely. Carefully, Roger tapped the crease of your thigh, "Right here. Can I slide my fingers under your panties, love?"

You nodded, watching him with hooded eyes. He swallowed thickly, pushing his fingers inside the leg hole of your underwear and feeling your heartbeat against your skin. "Doing so well for me, honey." He whispered, counting the beats in his head. Finally, he pulled his fingers from your panties and scribbled down a number and a check mark.

"Alright love. You can get your shirt back on." He smiled, giving your leg a squeeze.

You sat up on your elbows, glancing around the bed and frowning as you searched for your top. Roger chucked as you looked under the pillows and blankets. You frowned, defeated, and crossed your arms.

"Aw lamb..." He laughed softly at the scene, "You want one of mine?"

Just as he'd expected, your pretty eyes lit up a bit and you nodded. He grinned to himself, getting up to retrieve an old tshirt from his dresser and toss it to you.

Your hair mussed when you pulled it on, and god, he wanted to kiss you and muss it even more. He had definitely had a dream like this before; you in his bed wearing nothing but his shirt and your panties, sleepy and happy and waiting for him.

Yes. Waiting for him.

Roger cleared his throat and pulled a little pen light from his bag, "Alright, sweetheart, I'm gonna have you follow this light with your eyes, not your head. Sound alright?" You nodded sweetly, looking very small in his old shirt.

He watched you carefully as you followed the light, realizing quickly how heavy your eyes were getting. You were good for him nonetheless, answering little questions about when the light left your sight and which finger he was wiggling in your peripheral vision. He set his papers down when he saw you fighting to keep your eyes open, clicking off the light and climbing onto the bed.

"Whats wrong?" You hum, concerned you'd somehow misunderstood his directions.

"Nothings wrong, angel. We're just gonna get you tucked in, hm?"

He slowly guided your shoulders to lay you down on the mattress, combing through your hair with his fingers and he fluffed his pillow for you.

"B-But we aren't done yet....not done Rog..."

He chuckled at your little frown. "Sure we are."

"You never looked at my tummy." You pouted sleepily, concerned that he hadn't gotten what he needed, but more so wanting him to keep touching you. "Or my ears."

He smiled amusedly, gently coaxing your head to turn slightly to the left and right before cradling your face where you lay, his thumb tracing your jaw.

"They're very pretty ears." He stated matter of factly, pretending to scribble it down.

"Rog..." You wanted to keep going for him. You wanted to be a good patient like he said.

"Hey, I'll keep going, love, but you still have to lay down for me ok? Try and rest?"

You nodded obediently and god you looked so pretty all laid out for him. You took his hand, laying it on your belly encouragingly as you gave yet another yawn.

He giggled sneaking a hand beneath your shirt to rub your hip sweetly. " 's it ok if I touch you here, lamb?" He grazed the bend of his knuckle up and down the center of your tummy and you squirmed, nodding.

You let your eyes rest as his hands held your hips, his thumbs gently pressing inward to feel in a circle around your hip bones. He used two fingers to carefully press down right below your belly button before gently feeling around the spot. You whimpered softly.

' 's that hurt?" He whispered, still examining you.

"No." You squeaked, "No 'm ok."

He hummed a chuckle softly to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Felt nice?"

You give a little "Yes", too blissed out by the feeling on his warm hands to care about being embarrassed. Your eyes fluttered as you heard him write something down. He fished his otoscope from his bag and flipped it on, scooting closer to gently cradle your face again.

"Gonna look at your brain, now." You giggled, turning your head for him to take a look in your ears. "I should be having you look in my ears, really." He hummed softly as he peered through the scope. "Hearing's gone to shit from the drums."

" 's not as bad as your eyes, though." You teased, pushing his glasses up on his nose where they'd, once again, drifted down.

He laughed, turning your head to the other side. "My eyes have gone to shit, hearing's busted...My bones are always aching. I lose my voice once or twice a week. I'm falling apart, aren't I?"

"No..." you cooed softly as he put away the otoscope, and looked him in the eye again. "Just need someone to look after you."

"That's a hard job." His heart fluttered as he held your face again, moving down to gently feel your lymph nodes. You crooned into his touch.

"Not all that hard..." you yawned, eyes once again growing heavy. "Not for someone who loves you."

He smiled. You'd said it so surely. As if there wasn't a doubt in your mind that he was worth taking care of.

"Come're sweetheart." He whispered, cheeks still bright pink. He helped you sit up, guiding you to straddle his legs and settle in his lap. "Now normally this would be done on an exam table, of course." He chuckled softly. "But for now, just give me a big hug, ok? Just relax into me."

He barely got the words out before you'd snuggled up in his arms, giving him perfect access to feel and examine your neck and back.

His hands were gentle as he worked, knowing you often got sore around your neck and shoulders after longer days. You squirmed and whimpered a bit as his fingers grazed your tensed up muscles.

" 's that hurt?" He frowned against your temple.

"No...m jus' tense. I'm ok."

He didn't fight you, though he knew it was hurting you, and instead slowly rubbed small, light circles over the spot. It was uncomfortable at first, but quickly you relaxed into his body warmth as he worked the knots from your shoulders. You fidgeted ever so slightly at the hurt, but melted and cooed softly at the relief it gave you.

"That's my girl..." he sighed, giving you a moment recover from the sensitivity. He kissed your head softly. He wished he could paint. You looked like an angel, warm and soft and perfect.

You finally nodded off after a few minutes, and Roger carefully snuck a hand beneath the back of your shirt to unclasp your bra, maneuvering the straps off your arms without exposing you. "There we are." He whispered, laying you down against his mattress tenderly. Your eyes fluttered as he tossed it off of his bed. "Bet that's a bit more comfy hm?" You nodded, giving a little stretch and holding his hand tight in yours.

"Did...did you finish?" You croaked sweetly, looking up at him with drowsy eyes.

He grinned fondly at you, amazed you were still worried about the exam as you continued to fight to stay awake for him. "I did, silly girl. Check up's over and I've made my diagnosis."

"What's that?" His hair looked so soft and fluffed. Curly. He must have just washed it the night before.

"I'm afraid I'll have to prescribe bed rest. Quite a bit. And a good dinner when you wake up."

You giggled and yawned, but fowned a bit as he tucked his glasses into his back pocket.

He chuckled at your pout, "What's wrong?"

You felt childish, but it all seemed very important in your exhausted brain. "You're so pretty in your glasses but you won't ever even wear them unless you have too."

He laughed, and grinned. "Ohhh love." He crawled up to lay beside you on his bed, getting comfy on top of the covers. "I'm so sorry. I'd no idea I was depriving you so."

You were quick to curl up against his body warmth, tucking the blanket around him and letting his arms cradle you against his chest. He admired you as you rested there, looking so lovely that Roger was almost sure he was dreaming.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" He whispered, eyes focusing on how your eyelashes rested against your cheeks.

Your heart stopped for a moment and you realized you'd gotten your wish. Here you were, tucked into Rogers bed with him as he played with your hair and drew little pictures over your skin with his fingertips....and on top of that, now he was asking if you thought he was pretty. "I think you're beautiful. So lovely. Lovely, Rog."

He gave a shakey breath and smiled. He could have held you forever. You seemed so small and precious all tucked away in his arms. "You're my pretty girl, too. Such a soft little thing, aren't you?"

Your eyes fought their weight but he cooed to you softly, "There's my little love. That's it. Just rest." And you all too quickly gave in to his body warmth.

*************************

@fairytales-of-yesterday

@meddowscrl

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fic #roger x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor x oc #queen #queen band #queen x reader

166 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 2 months

Text

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

502 notes · View notes

thegreatwicked · 3 months

Text

FicRecs

Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!

Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.

FicRecs

DC Comics

Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.

Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.

Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.

Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.

Star Wars

Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.

The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.

The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...

Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.

Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.

His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.

Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.

Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!

Actors/Characters

Ben Hardy

Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.

Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.

Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.

For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...

#fic rec #ben hardy characters #star wars #dc comics #jason todd #roman sionis #all smut all the way #billy/four x reader #roger taylor #obi wan x reader #obi-wan smut #roman sionis smut #jason todd smut #darth maul x you #darth maul smut #Support writers content #My favorite fanfics

76 notes · View notes

idliketobeatree · 1 month

Text

No more jokes. If S3 doesn't give me canon ineffable wives I'm gonna tell your kids they were fem!Aziraphale and Crowley

(God knows.)

63 notes · View notes

stesichoreanpalinode · 3 months

Text

Rogerina: relatable wine mom on a girl’s night out

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Marybeth (@fatbottomedrogah)

instagram

#roger taylor #roger x dragging up otp #thank you to the provider of this excellent content #Instagram

37 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 1 year

Note

Hey sunshine! Could i get 📮DITCH THE WHOLE SCENE- send me a character and any option from my request guidelines and I'll write a baby blurb/dialogue for..

With Chris maybe where reader has a caffeine induced migraine because her tiny 5’0 body can’t take too much and because she brought a new coffee machine she’s a little too obsessed, and we’ll just say it causes a very hyper active reader with a raging headache 😭

definitely not me right now..

CATCH ME | S.R.

word count: 0.6k

warnings: bby I don't write for chris on here so I did actor!steve instead, age gap because it's me, migraines - haven't written for steve in a while, not sure this is some of my best kdsjds

Steve was sure he tucked you into bed a few minutes ago, you weren't all that pleased that he insisted on cleaning the kitchen all alone but he was always playing police when your migraines came to pay a visit. So, when he heard the clinking of the spoon against the mug as you pattered into the living room he was surprised, to say the least.

You pretended not to see him yet, eyes stuck to the bottom of your empty coffee mug as his followed your every move. Your head was still pounding, so you were very lucky that Steve preferred the house a little darker at night, but the caffeine rushing through your veins wasn't doing your busy mind any favours.

"Sweetheart," it was the sweetest sound, you determined, his soft little pet name sounding even softer when filled with so much care. You turned around to look at him, managing the purest little hum, eyes large despite your pain as your fingers drummed soundlessly over the outside of the mug. "You should be in bed," he cooed looking the perfect domestic sight while folding up the drying cloth and abandoning it next to the sink, socked feet sliding over the cold tiles to get to you.

"I can't," you breathed and offered your hand as a reason, the lovely smell of the little droplets of coffee letting him know just what was to blame for your current state. "My brain is awake," you explained further and he couldn't help a small smile, nodding lightly in understanding before placing the mug clad in his face on the display table.

"Coffee at night, huh," he began and you were prepared to be reprimanded, surrendering simply because his hands found a place to settle on your waist, squeezing lightly as he took his time to rake his eyes over you. "Thought we talked about that."

"We did," you agreed and your hands were just a little too eager as they grabbed at his arms, making him sigh lightly, not upset at all, amused more like, it was hard not to be but he was trying really hard to focus on getting you to settle down. "But it's so good Steve, there are so many different types and flavors and don't even get me started on the little espresso cups, you know they're too cute to resist."

"Baby," his reprimand was even more amused this time around, much less serious and it made you smile, and giggle even despite the strain it put on your head. "Did you drink your meds?" he knew that he put them in your hands with a glass of water before he had to pick up a call from his agent and now he realized that it gave you the perfect chance to make yourself that coffee. "Thought so, okay, let's get you back to bed."

"Steve," you began and he wanted to kiss the pout from your lips, the little steps you took away from him made it very clear that this was going to be no easy task. "I really don't want to go to sleep," you wasted no time sprinting across the living room, your own socked feet making it much easier to move around as you giggled, pausing to close your eyes for a second, willing the pain to settle long enough for you to get your way. Steve sighed, arms folding over his chest in familiar worry as he looked you over, waiting patiently for you to open your eyes again.

"What am I going to do with you, trouble?" you giggled again, softer this time as your restraint was fading but still you leaned your elbows onto the back of the couch and shrugged.

"You need to catch me, silly," and he did, after a rather short-lived chase around his apartment and many grumbled comments from you as he lead you right back to bed, making sure to steal as many kisses as possible as he tucked you in once again. He made sure to watch you swallow the pain meds before turning off the bedroom light and crawling into bed right next to you, all objection fading from your system when you sighed in satisfaction in his arms.

#steve rogers #actor!steve rogers #dilf!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #monique's 22 (taylor's version) celebration #monique's writing events

111 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 9 months

Note

alt adkoe au: y/n answers a question correctly in class and roger accidentally replies w “good girl”

ohhhh my godddd okay this is an incredible idea. i read it as i was walking into work this morning and it made me very giggly khfksfkskfs

like it's just a normal class, roger's trying to keep everyone's attention by throwing out questions at them.

he's not even directing them at specific people, just asking the room at large and waiting to see if anyone answers, keeping a list in the back of his mind of who actually engages with the lesson.

and you're a good student, you like the class and you like having the chance to try to answer things.

maybe it's a little bit because you're sleeping with your professor. but only a little bit.

He had threatened to stop the lessons if your actual work started slipping, so you're determined not to let that happen, and also you just want to make sure he knows you're not just there because he's hot.

but also you're a bit of a nerd and just genuinely enjoy learning about science stuff and has fun answering questions even if you get corrected sometimes.

so you don't even think twice answering this question, you just do it, like 95% sure you knows the answer

and he's really proud of you for knowing the answer! it was a tough one! and usually he'd give whoever answered a 'well done Ms blah' or a 'that's correct Mr blah' but it's the end of the day, his mind is wandering a little bit and for a moment he forgets where he is.

the problem, he tells mikey later when he's explaining the incident, is he's too good a dom. he's always made an effort to praise you during the tutoring lessons. because you was new to bdsm and because you misunderstood aspects of submission to start, he's made sure to give you a lot of positive reinforcement whenever you demonstrated an understanding of something or whenever you showed enthusiasm for something or whenever you tried something out of your comfort zone.

so he doesn't even hesitate before saying "good girl ms y/l/n" when you gives a correct and thorough answer.

he barely even noticed he'd done it at first, turning to the board to write something relevant up there.

he's halfway through a word when he hears the first snicker. it makes him pause because it's a masters science class. it's full of more mature students who've already earned a degree, students who aren't as inclined to goof off as some of his other classes are. I mean, he knows how to have fun with his class. He cracks jokes, he tries to keep things entertaining and engaging, but he's not used to hearing people laugh behind their hands as if they're teenagers passing notes.

he glances behind him at the noise and he notices two things.

Firstly, theres a whole lot of smirking happening, a few giggles, a few people looking at each other.

Secondly, you're staring at him, resolutely ignoring everyone, but you seem embarrassed.

And that's when his brain catches up and he realises what he'd actually said and how inappropriate it was. and he's just really thankful he'd had enough brain left to not use your first name.

For a moment he doesn't know what to do? Should he address it? Apologise to you in front of the class, turn it into a joke about how he's obviously ready for the weekend?

the notion that such an excuse would probably just lead people to speculating about what kind of sexual shenanigans he gets up to on weekends stops him though

and ultimately he decides to pretend it didn't happen. He can apologise to you in private later, and if he just continues on with the lesson it'll force everyone to pay attention and stop giggling.

So he continues writing on the board and then explains why your answer was a good one and then asks a follow up question, this time directing it at a student he thinks is looking at you and whispering to his mate.

You were relieved he just moved on with the lesson.

Later on, when you text Daisy about it, you say the problem is that roger has conditioned you to be turned on by praise. You've always liked earning praise of course, especially from teachers. But all the times roger called you a good girl during your tutoring has made it a whole other thing.

And because of that, as soon as he'd called you a good girl in front of everyone, you got wet.

(Daisy replied with a lot of laughing emojis and not much useful advice)

So, it wasn't even so much being called a good girl in front of your classmates that embarrassed you. it wasn't great and the snickering didn't help you feel less embarrassed but if it had been any other teacher who'd called you a good girl you could have laughed it off much easier (with maybe a little embarrassment for them).

no the reason you were embarrassed was that you were turned on and all you could think about was roger bending you over his desk.

and you shouldnt be thinking about that in public.

and you definitely shouldn't be thinking about roleplaying a teacher/student scene with him.

and you definitely shouldn't be this wet sitting in a fucking uni lecture.

so you were very glad roger hadn't said anything about it.

roger spent the rest of the lesson deciding how best to apologise to you. he decided that calling you to see him after class would only make things worse and since there really was something happening between you, he couldn't risk anyone thinking there was in case it all got brought out into the open.

he did briefly consider whether he should take Tina out somewhere students would definitely spot him just so he'd have an alibi of sorts, and maybe any speculation or gossip about the incident would be more focused on his kinkiness than on your involvement.

But, he settled on mentioning it and apologising during the next tutoring lesson, and otherwise pretending it wasn't a thing. If he heard some rumours or got approached by any staff members then he'd figure out a way to deal with it.

you decided to go by his office before you left that evening. You didn't want any lingering embarrassment hanging over you during your next lesson.

So when you knocked on his door, Roger is very surprised. This was not his plan.

but he rolled with it, inviting you in and shutting the door (hoping no one would think anything of it if they saw)

and he apologised before you could start talking, saying he never meant to put you in such an uncomfortable position and he woud be much more mindful in future and he hopes you're okay and that no one said anything to you.

and you're like oh no thats fine, i get it was just a slip up, and yes we do need to be careful but no one said anything to you and while you did hear people speculating about what else he might call someone a good girl for, no one had suggested there really might be something happening. one girl did call you lucky though and implied that if you'd accidentally called her a good girl she'd be wanking to it for the next month.

roger is relieved and everything about the situation suddenly becomes a bit more amusing and less worrying.

but then you say there is something you want to bring up but maybe his office isnt the best place

and he's like well if you don't tell me i'm going to spend the time until our next session very nervous and concerned about you.

so you're like, its nothing serious i just.....it was kind of hot, sir.

he gulps a little and has to take a breath before he says, "was it now?"

you nod and drop your voice to more of a whisper as you say, "im kinda wet actually"

he groans to himself, "as much as i would love to verify that myself, i don't think this is the place, so i'll take your word for it. what about it inspired such a reaction?"

you shrug, "i don't know exactly. i like when you praise me i guess. and maybe it got me thinking....i mean, if might be too weird but you said teacher student stuff was good for roleplaying.

Roger is speechless at that and has to sit down again before he falls.

you just watch him a bit nervously, waiting for him to say something but encouraged by his reaction

eventually he's like "i did say that"

and you can see hes thinking so you keep quiet, just waiting

eventually he sighs and says, "we really can't do anything here. there are people around who could come in at any moment, not to mention security cameras. so as interesting as your suggestion is, its too risky. And also, a little bit weird. i mean, as hot as the roleplay is, i really am your professor and that makes it just a little uncomfortable, don't you think?"

you nodded, more embarrassed to have been turned down than you were in class.

he's like, i mean i'm up for it, just not right this second.

which does make you feel a little bit better, a little less rejected.

he says so how about this. instead of going home tonight, you pay your teacher a visit because you're so worried about passing the class and you want to see if theres some extra credit work available.

his voice is low and his tone is all suggestion and you instantly perk up and agree to it.

and roger smiles and says, my last class for the day is in half an hour, i will leave as soon as it's done. Of course, if this suddenly stops being hot, we don't have to do this roleplay. It might just have been in the moment that it was arousing or we might find actually playing it out is more awkward than hot.

you stand up and say, thank you sir, i'll see you later.

he says, wait a second ms y/l/n, some homework until then - I want you to think about just how much of a good girl you can be. Have some ideas ready.

your mind was already racing with possibilities so you nodded and then left, trying not to look too excited.

#a different kind of education #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #this didnt go where i was expecting #and it ended up longer than i intended oops #kfsjfksjfksjfksd #but thats just my brand #perhaps one day i will write the smut #but i hope you like this!

60 notes · View notes

diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic · 1 year

Text

Soon You'll Get Better [Steve Rogers x F!Reader]

Part 1 of My Lover Celebration in honour of the queen, Taylor Swift

Summary :- “You'll get better, you have to”

Warnings :- I don't think i understood the right meaning of this song lol, nurse!reader, Steve is 6'4, kinda angst, insecure!reader, pov's keep switching, it's not good but i tried ig, sudden confessions.

Dividers by :- @firefly-graphics

“The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair

In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared

That was the first time we were there

Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you

Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too”

Captain America was rushed in the hospital wing of the Avengers Compound after a rough mission as Y/n, Dr. Banner's assistant, rushed to him. She analysed him and looked after him till he got better. She'll never admit it but she had a little crush on the handsome 6'4 super soldier.

“I know delusion when I see it in the mirror

You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal

I just pretend it isn't real

I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky

I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try”

She knew that he would never love someone like her. Why would anyone? He did try to sweet talk her in his rough voice and it did work, but she'll never admit it. She'll never admit her feelings to him. She knew that he liked those other hot nurses that flirted with him whenever she was gone. Her feelings for him were the secrets she'll never tell anyone. Or so she thought.

“And I hate to make this all about me

But who am I supposed to talk to?

What am I supposed to do

If there's no you?”

“So you like him, he's your patient, he obviously likes you back but you're still crying about him?”, Wanda said as she softly rubbed your back. You nodded, still sniffling. Admit your feelings to him, love. She said that just like everyone else. But she would never do that.

“This won't go back to normal, if it ever was

It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because

'Cause I have to”

“Sweetheart, I'm all better now. I was hoping if I could start going back on missions”, Steve asked you as he looked at you hopefully. You nodded. “Of course, Steve”, you said. You had your back turned to him as you wrote about something. He grabbed your arm and turned you around so that you were chest-to-chest. “Love, you wanna know something?”, he said in a low voice. “Y-yeah?”, you asked him, your voice barely audible to your ears. “I love you”, he whispered in your ear before tucking a strand of your hair behind it. Your whole face was red. “Y-you do?”, you stuttered. He nodded before pouring all his emotions into your first kiss.

"Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better

Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better

Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon

'Cause you have to”

#Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers angst #Steve Rogers x y/n #Steve Rogers #captain america fluff #captain america x you #Captain America #Captain America fic #Steve Rogers fic #Lover Celebration #Taylor swift #soon you’ll get better

102 notes · View notes

imeternallylove · 2 months

Text

Don't grow up, it's a trap - Brian May; Prologue

Pairing: Brian May x Reader

Warning: none

Word: approx 1.3k

main mastetlist | request & ask | prompts

Chapters index

If he knew he had grown up this way.

Perhaps it was preferable to be a youngster who knew nothing except eating, playing, and napping.

People beings grow up in many civilizations. Some are born under a lucky star and are unaware that there is a demon named afflictive and wounded existing in this universe. However, certain persons who were raised. No, it should be called 'lived on their own' 一will have a higher level of immunity than others.

That does not imply their goodness. But it was an essential weapon for survival when facing tough times; it was intended just for anybody like him who lived below the poverty line. It kept on threatening his life, shattering every piece of his bone and cruelly smashing them to the ground. Despite being awake, it seemed like a terror nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

'Brian May' is an uncommon boy. However, it isn't actually noteworthy. It sounds tricky, doesn't it? But that was his life after his parents' disappearance due to debt, while the whole town was during the world war.

The boy recalled the hectic circumstances at home throughout that extended period of time, and how they remained to be that way, over and over. He nearly lost sight of the definition of happiness and the proper way to smile or laugh.

Delicious food was once the thing on each evening dinner table, but that is starting to change. There were just grilled potatoes obtainable lately, and the soup was given as a side dish to enhance the flavour of the tasteless potatoes that had to be consumed all in one bowl, for the whole family.

He heard his parents arguing constantly, and headphones ended up being his best buddy by default. However, that is not nearly as unpleasant as hearing the creditors' relentless pounding on the door, who appear prepared to burst in at any moment if they are serious about it.

Only in the closet could sixteen-year-old Brian give a hug to his younger sister. With her head pressed against his chest, he protected her even though he was conscious that he wouldn't be able to stop the door from breaking in. After their parents made the decision to disappear without a trace since they had creditors pursuing them. From that moment on, Brian's biggest duty towards his younger sister has been to be strong for her, even when it meant leaving only tears on her cheeks.

Yes, he understands that his parents weren't abandoning him or his younger sister. Nevertheless, it seems that things happened this way because they had to leave this environment. Because his parents are unaware of how creditors would make demands for money if they were there. Which was probably worse than the hammering at the house door, which scared the hell out of him and his sister and made them afraid to leave.

A sixteen-year-old boy whose sole pursuits in life are music and education. To continue living his realities, he had to give go of his fantasies. Give up on the band, put the handmade guitar in the cupboard, and start working a part-time job after school.

For a young boy who had never experienced hardship before, he was unsure about what to do with the remaining money and where it would take him and his sister. However, it was lucky that the uncle next door, who was a neighbour, constantly prepared meals for him. And thus, day by day, he and his sister lived. 'Betty May' is still quite young. Brian does not want his younger sister to have to worry about this. But he had no idea what to do. Because additional money is insufficient, he will soon have to pay tuition. He is unlikely to be able to provide for himself and his younger sister financially. However, requesting a loan from a neighbour, like Uncle David, would be excessive.

Brian sensed he was in trouble. However, seeking assistance from others should be done in moderation.

Humans have a tendency to do dumb things when they feel hopeless. Yes, Brian feels this is the case. When he sat looking at the square screen with his hands on the keyboard in a computer lesson, his friend from the computer science department was overjoyed to show him it was a prototype. He looked like he suffered from a lack of sleep while learning how to use with.

The sixteen-year-old boy stared at it for a moment before writing the tragic tales of his own life on a blank page, and thanks to his highest grade at Imperial College, he had the kind privilege of receiving a tiny article published in the newspapers for the entire city of London, which has at least three million readers per day.

Brian couldn't recall what he had written, and he didn't want to. It might be filled with disappointment in life, what he was excellent at, or the whole agony that has been suppressed in his heart. Asking for help in vain and not knowing whether anyone will respond with a boy who has no idea who they are and no interest in life.

But it wasn't too horrible. When God told him to believe in, 'the miracles' one more time.

Not long afterward, the professor contacted him to schedule an appointment. He said that someone had seen his letter in the newspapers and offered to help with schooling and monthly expenditures, even if it was a small amount. So he asked Brian if he still needed lend a hand in helping, because here was his opportunity.

The boy was dumbfounded by what he had heard. He was thinking about hitting himself in the face once to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Is it truly feasible for somebody to reach out and support kids who do not know who they are? Brian sat calmly for quite some time, and his professor was silent, indicating that Brian, his student, wanted to concentrate.

Brian was still half believing and half unbelieving. It wasn't until he received a cheque with credit to cash at the bank, along with a huge shopping bag with a pair of black and light brown suit-and-tie sets and black leather shoes. He noticed a pair of freshly released flower pattern shift dresses for ladies in other bags, as well as maroon Mary-Jane heels, with a short message and charming calligraphy expressing delight in him and Betty, which the tall boy could guess was from whom.

The boy finally discovered the world wasn't all devils around him. Who were these people? How did the benefactors who saved his and his sister's lives appear? The boy was confident that they were angels. The boy vividly recalls the emotion of the first moment; even the corners of his eyes turned blazing red and his younger sister had to hold and soothe him.

Brian returned to see his professor the next day, this time wearing a new pair of gleaming black leather shoes. After staying up all night wondering, 'Why are the benefactors so kind?', he was keen to find out who the wonderful person was who rescued him and his sister from the demon hordes. Why did they decide to help? Because even if the entire world is full of lack of thoroughness, and depth of character and he is much too young to confront it, that person seems not to be concerned whether the message he has written is a falsehood or real.

As his professor consultant was done with some papers, he smiled softly as he informed his student. "Her name is Y/N..."

Brian fails to control himself; he gasps suddenly with his mouth open and barely knows how to breathe, just because he eventually discovered their name, noㅡ her name.

"Miss Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N."

oh hi

#imeternallylove #brian may x reader #brian may #queen #queen band #queenies #roger taylor #brian harold may #bohemian rhapsody #brian may fluff #brian may headcanon #brian may imagine #brian may x female reader #brian may x reader fluff #brian may x you #bohemianbri #freddie mercury #john deacon

13 notes · View notes

rogerswifesblog · 1 year

Note

Ok ok I need more Steve fluff from you!

Steve would def take his girlfriend to concerts of artists she likes. Just imagine Steve at an Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift concert next to his girlfriend that's scream-singing the lyrics along.

Here’s some more fluff, because that’s a freakin’ cute hc 💖 [ this here Is kinda a music one shot/blurb]

[ ok, I really actually wrote a whole ass one shot trying to write a cute blurb. I just loved this idea sm ]

I think steve definitely likes modern music, but he doesn’t really listen that much to modern music

Lyrics

Until he met you. You listen to music all the time-while cooking, cleaning up, changing clothes, before bedtime, during showers,…just whenever you can.

He knew what artists you liked; Es Sheeren, Harry styles, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry,…there were many more, but he knew you liked these the most.

Just like know you were making pancakes for breakfast, while a song played in the background. Steve already knew this one-he liked it. He liked the lyrics; lover, by Taylor swift. It was…a really sweet song.

Steve approached you, putting his arm gently around you, swaying to the beat of the song. He couldn’t stop himself from mumbling the words of the song.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

He kissed your neck gently, while you slowly leaned against his chest, putting the pancake on a plate and turning of the stove.

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover…

Steve smiled against your neck, breathing in your sweet smell. He could get used to this. Having you this close, being with you every day, waking up next to you every mourning, going to bed with you every night….

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

He turned you around slowly, putting his hand on your waist. A grin spread over your lips, while Steve started swaying with you to the song, turning you around sometimes. Even though he always said he was a bad dancer, you liked his dancing. He was gentle and careful.

You giggled, putting your arms around his neck, singing the lyrics of the song-definitely knowing them better than Steve. You two looked at each other, fully knowing this was it. That’s were you wanted to be. Steve wanted to ask you-he wanted you to spend the rest of your life with him.

And without needing to ask the question itself, he knew your answer. He saw it in your eyes.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover…

It was the first Christmas you’d spend with Steve. He was nervous-not only because of Christmas with your family itself, but also because he had a gift for you, he really wanted for you to like-well, he knew you’d like it. But it was a whole plan he already had, but he couldn’t talk about it. It was a secret.

Walking with you into the house of your family, he was greeted with the smell of typical Christmas meals and christmal tree. It felt homey, warm…just, right.

Your mother loved him as soon as she laid eyes on him. She told him, she had hoped for you to find good guy-which you apparently finally did, after having scared your mother of never bringing a potential son-in-law home. She’d accept it, if that’s what would’ve happened but…she really hoped for grandkids. You were her older daughter, so she hoped you’d be the first one to bring her the good news at some point.

Until Steve’s you’ve never really felt like you were really in love. It never felt right. But with Steve? Yes, that’s how love should be. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was right. You made it perfect for each other.

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

After sitting down at the table, you ate, talking about everything that happened recently-your parents asked Steve a lot, mostly stuff about him, which you really enjoyed. They didn’t ask stuff about him being Captain America. It was just Steve.

At Steve felt like he was only falling in love with you more, you and your family. They seemed so nice-even though you had to hit your little sister with your spoon, after she touched his biceps-in her Defense….she was just curious. They didn’t look real on tv. It made you all laugh, even your parents.

They could tell you loved the super soldier, by just one look at you.

At the same for Steve.

The way you looked at each other…it was love. There was no doubt.

It's brighter now, now

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I can never look away

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

Things will never be the same

“Time for presents!”, you giggled childish, taking some of the gifts from under the Christmas tree.

It surprised Steve when you gave him a few presents too-thank god he thought about bringing something for your family, too. Smiling he opened the first gift, which was a knitted sweater. His heart swelled seeing this beautiful sweater. He looked at you, but you nodded to your mom. He felt his heart ache. It reminded him of his own mother. “Thank you so much”, he mumbled, trying it on, not even bothering that he still wore his buttondown underneath.

Your mom laughed quietly. “Oh dear, I didn’t expect for you to be so…”, she pointed how tight the sweater stretched across his shoulders, but he didn’t mind it. He loved it.

For a moment he watched you take a picture of him in this sweater, making him grin. He quickly gave you a short kiss on the lips.

You felt your blood rush to your cheeks. Blushing you looked down for a moment.

Then Steve took out a envelope out of his jacket and gave it to you.

Your eyes glistened. You knew what these were. Even if Steve hadn’t told you anything, you could feel what it was.

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

Now I'm wide awake

And now I see daylight (Daylight), I only see daylight (Daylight)

I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight

With shaky hands you opened the envelope, taking out two tickets to the next Taylor swift concert-in only six months.

A sob escaped your lips, while you threw yourself at Steve-and even his super soldier instincts hadn’t prepared him for this, making fall with you from the chair.

Gasping your family watched the two of you fall to the floor, while you buried your face in Steve’s neck-probably leaving salty tears and your make up behind.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-Steve-thank you so much”, you whispered like a mantra, hugging him strong enough, he started thinking you somehow got the serum yourself.

Quietly laughing he put his arms around you, letting his head rest on the floor.

You’ve never been with someone who understood your passion and love for music. Everyone made always fun of you for knowing all the lyrics to every new song, in only a few days.

But Steve, he…he loved this about you. The signing in the shower, small dances while cooking…it made you, just….you. He loved your true self.

And I can still see it all (In my mind)

All of you, all of me (Intertwined)

I once believed love would be (Black and white)

But it's golden (Golden)

And I can still see it all (In my head)

Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight….

The time flew by quickly, suddenly six months were behind you and you were getting ready for your first Taylor swift concert. You’d never thought you’d ever see her in real life-and Steve even got tickets right in front of the stage-which he told you was Natashas idea. You definitely had to thank her for that.

Grinning you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was finally happening.

Within a few hours you two were standing in front of the stage. As soon as Taylor came out, you screamed, singing the lyrics to every song-and maybe you cried, too,…just maybe.

Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night

Oh! Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

One, two, one two three four!

You grinned at Steve, pulling him closer against you. He kissed you every time the lyrics said so, making you laugh happily. His enhanced hearing caught your laugh in all the screaming and singing. He’ll probably have a headache for the next few days but he didn’t care.

It was so worth it, seeing you this happy.

He made you this happy.

Well, Taylor did, but he bought the tickets.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

You grinned at Steve, singing the lyrics loudly and point at him.

He laughed at your cuteness, making a heart shape with his fingers. Immediately you pulled Steve closer, giving him a gentle kiss, before you watched Taylor perform.

Steve watched you for a moment, grabbing the little box in his pocket.

How could he be this lucky, having you, love him?

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

Steve heard the right song playing, feeling his hands start to sweat. His heartbeat started racing.

While you screamed the lyrics of one of your favourite songs, Steve took a little step back, waiting for the right moment. He watched you jump, dance and laugh happily, singing with the girls next to you, like you two were best friends-even though you didn’t know each other until today.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Taylor walked right in front of you, touching your outstretched hand, making more tears stream down your face.

Thank god you had waterproof make up on…even though you weren’t sure if you hadn’t cried more, that it could withstand.

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

The camera started pointing at the crown around you, till it finally stopped by you. Grinning you waved at the camera, but noticed steve wasn’t next to you, where he had been all this time.

So you looked to the side.

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

Gasping you slapped your hands over your mouth, stumbling a step back.

Steve smiled at you, down on his knee, with a little box in his hand, a pretty diamond ring shimmering in the light, which was pointed at the two of you. You could see yourself on the big screen, out of the corner of your eye, while the Taylor Swift came once again closer to you, grinning. Already had known about everything, after Tony Stark himself called her.

And said, "Marry me, Y/N

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say;

"Yes!"

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! Feedback!??<3

#steve rogers #mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #Taylor swift is definitely canon in the MCU

87 notes · View notes

likesomekindofcheese · 2 years

Note

Hello, I am a big fan of your writing 😄 Could you do a fic where a college aged Roger Taylor and the reader who have been dating for a while and they are waiting on a home pregnancy test? While they wait the reminisce about what they have gone through together and the good times. When the results are ready it's negative and they are relieved. Thank you!

Hi there nonnie! You got it! I will have two endings: one where the test is positive, and one where it is negative.

Per Anon's request, Reader here is a person whose body is able to have children, but because gender is not specified in the request, the reader will be gender neutral and can be read to identify however you would like!

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! If you like it- reblog or leave a comment!

Warnings: Mentions of sex and some steamy bits but no specifics or details, mentions of drinking and drunkness, discussions of pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. But plenty of fluff!

Word Count: 1K

Link to my Comfort Character Letter and Playlist Etsy Shop

Link to My Ko-Fi for Comfort Character Letters

You reached for the pink kitchen timer in the shape of an egg and twisted it to fifteen minutes. That’s all it would take. That would be the moment of truth. Just fifteen little minutes and you would know for sure.

The timer was placed on the shelf of the sink. Right next to it was a pending pregnancy test. You placed both hands on the counter, looked into the mirror at your own face, and took in a deep breath. You held it, then released.

Watching the little white stick for fifteen minutes would only make you feel worse about the results you did not want yet.

Walking out, you saw Roger on the couch. You told him your period was late. Two days wasn’t much, but it was something. He turned over and looked at you.

“Hey, love,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you responded.

He opened his arms, and you followed him, plopping onto the couch. You nestled your head onto his chest where you felt it’s steady heartbeat. He wrapped both arms around you, one rubbing on your back. Another found a free hand of yours and held it.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Mmmph, you’re not the one getting tested.”

“Fair enough.”

He noticed your breaths were quick inhales and sharp exhales through your nose. It was troubling for him to hear such. He could even hear your heart pick up.

“Hey, Y/N...do you remember how we met?” he asked.

You looked up.

“What was it like on your end?” he asked.

“We’ve told this story before…”

“Nah, I’d like to hear It from you…” Roger responded.

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

You met at a bar. It was dark and there was that odd smell that came with beer- like you could smell bread baking from the wheat that was concocted inside the drink. It was that mixture of bakeries and bars- something delicious was being created to be consumed and enjoyed.

But you could not enjoy that beer in peace. A man who looked far older than you and quite odious slid up to you. He was smiling and trying to get your attention.

“Excise me…I’m just not in the mood tonight. Would you leave me alone, please?” you asked politely.

“What?? Don’t you like a free drink?” he asked, peeved.

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a voice:

“Hey! I’ll get you anything you want, and you leave ‘em alone!”

You turned around to see…maybe not the most handsome man you met, but the most beautiful. You almost dropped your jaw. He had large blue eyes with thick lashes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful, silky blonde hair you had ever seen. And he was walking up to you. You began to talk for hours and then traded numbers with smiling faces.

Your first kiss was in the rain. Roger had turned oddly romantic. He wanted to go to a museum of great interest to you. There was a special exhibit for only a limited time- a certain painter you adored. He bought you tickets- nice tickets! And this was before the band got off it’s feet too!

You grabbed his hand, ooing and aaaahing at the art. He smiled and admired it. If he thought anything rude about it, he kept it to himself. Even if he might have appeared low brow, he knew beauty when he saw it.

Once you walked out, it began to rain. Howling with laughter from the surprise of cold water splattering on your heads, you took off your jackets and huddled under them, running to the nearest shade you could find. One was a large tree planted in the sidewalk, proving a relief of raindrops. They weren’t a torrent, but manageable small drips every now and then. You both looked at each other, eyes bright from running and hair damp.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You nodded yes.

You tasted the hamburger he ate for lunch, his tongue collided with yours, but his lips felt soft. On your book, it was a perfect first kiss.

It didn’t stop at kissing of course. The first time you did the deed, it was three days later. You had been studying over at his place. Luckily, he ordered in food, complete with dessert. As you put aside your flashcards, you gave a deep sigh.

“How do you feel, Y/N?”

“Good! I feel good about it!”

“Well then, guess we have time for this then!”

He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you onto his lap. You began to make out. Furiously. And you didn’t want it to stop this time.

As you sat there, you gave him a naughty smile. Then you quickly pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the floor. From the quick blinking and half grin, he gave you, he was not going to stop you.

“Rog…Rog I want you…” you said, placing his lovely face in your hands as you began to kiss him again and again.

“I want you…” you trailed down to his neck. You felt his body relax beneath yours “so bad…”

“Have me then…” he said. He unbuttoned his own shirt. Soon you felt the warmth of each other’s bare skin against the others. And it didn’t stop at your shirts.

You were there for every concert you could make it to. You cheered loudly as you could. Despite the numerous groupies with their claws pointed at Roger, he shooed them away. They would give you a glare before moving onto the next band member in sight. None of you minded that much. There were times you goofed off with drinking games and then would dance all night to your favorite songs before wandering to the house.

“Damn…” Roger would say…he reached into the closet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He got out two shot glasses.

“Rog! It’s five in the morning? And you’re drinking vodka???” you gasped.

“Why else do it? We had an amazing concert and we're celebrating! We’re alive and it’s here, we might as well enjoy it!”

And then sleep until the afternoon when you woke up tangled in each other’s arms but smiling.

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

As you were warm from thinking of those things there was a “Ding! Ding! Ding!” from the bathroom. The timer went up.

The moment of truth.

“Here it is…” you said nervously.

Roger took your hand and walked you to the bathroom. Shaking, you reached over and looked at the stick.

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

Ending One: Positive-

Two lines. Two clear little pink lines. Roger was next to you; he clutched your hand. The inhale you were taking stopped in your throat. The stick was even moving with you hand. You kept blinking, then you let out a sharp exhale.

“Y/N….my Y/N, what do you think?” he asked.

This was huge. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through in your head.

“Y/N, if you need an abortion, I’ll help you. I’ll play the drums extra hard, I’ll pitch in what I have, I’ll help you to make it happen- we’ll find a clinic that’s safe and then you won’t have to..."

You let out a laugh, tears were already in your eyes, and you shook your head.

“No Roger! No!”

He tilted his head and squinted his blue eyes.

“No?”

“I mean, thank you! It’s kind of you to offer…but no!!!”

You hugged him with both arms, the test still in your hand, dangling off, the two lines staring at Roger. You gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Here’s what…I…I want to keep the baby…”

“Keep it? Then…then this is big, Y/N…but…you’re happy?”

“I am happy! I am happy that I have a part of you with me, always- that there’s going to be a person half you and half me out there in the world! I…I’ve wanted to be pregnant for a while now! And I want to have your baby!”

You relaxed in his arms and melted onto his shoulder.

You let go and he held your hands, pulling you close still.

“Y/N…we will do what we can…I…I never thought a year ago I would say this but…I will be a dad to this baby. I won’t leave you and I won’t leave the kid inside you either! You don’t have to be afraid now- you mean so much to me and if that means taking this on, I won’t mind…"

Outside you heard birds chirping as if celebrating. Roger licked his lips and then frowned, eyes looking down.

"But...I'll try...even if I’m not ready to be a dad…” he confessed.

“Will we ever be ready to be parents?” you asked.

There was a pause. The clock ticked as if in silent reply and outside a car passed by.

“Then…then we’ll raise the baby together.”

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

Ending Two: Negative.

There was only one line. There were two sighs. Roger was relieved secretly- no responsibilities. No human life to concern himself about. Y/N blinked and rechecked again and again, and then set it down.

“Well…well then!” you announced.

“Why, Y/N…we might need to celebrate!” Roger suggested.

“I…I think so!”

He went to the kitchen, even though it was still the afternoon, and the sun was shining through the windows.

“Let’s have a drink- it’s something you would have to miss out on! We can throw in some coffee too! And all the stuff you wouldn’t be able to enjoy if you were pregnant!”

Sure enough he brought out the drinks and you were enjoying it. You both held small champagne glasses.

“Part of me…wants to be pregnant. Wants to be a mama. But I…I’m not so sure…”

“It’s a lot of work, Y/N. And…with the band…we’re enjoying what we have…”

“You know…you’re right! I like my life! I like my college and my classes and my friends!"

"No one wants to miss out on those!" Roger commented.

You played with the rim of your cup and looked down, then back up through your lashes at Roger

" Plus, there’s this handsome drummer I’m dating…” you added.

He leaned against the kitchen counter cockily.

“What’s he like?” Roger asked.

“Hilarious. Smart. Talented. Creative. Bold. Fearless. Passionate. Fiery. And best of all…he’s mine…” you praised.

“Same to you, darling.” He replied with a smile that could melt winter.

Taglist: @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @seraphicmercury @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @queenlover05

58 notes · View notes

imagineanythings · 1 year

Text

Tis the Damn Season

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.8k

The second fic in my Folklore and Evermore Collection

Other fics in the collection: The 1

Her head swarmed with frustration and anger and she finally noticed that she had pulled into the parking lot in front of the methodist church. She laughed to herself as she rested her head on the wheel. Of course she’d come here. Stupid. She moved to put the car in reverse and go somewhere, anywhere else, when taillights in her rearview mirror caught her eye. The air forcibly left her lungs in one swift exhale as she recognized that old, beat up, blue pickup.

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

The familiar musty scent of beer and an unfortunate mixture of perfumes and colognes met her nose as she entered the bar. Faces more weathered than her memory had stored them greeted her as she weaved through. The motion of dodging through these people had become muscle memory, though the setting had shifted some years back from crowded high school hallways to this cramped hometown bar. She settled into a seat at the bar and shrugged off her coat, and once she had a gin and tonic in hand she was far more prepared to deal with the sea of semi-familiar faces around her.

It was all cordial hellos, obligatory “so what are you doing these days?”, or “how’s your family?” or “congratulations on your engagement or your promotion or your pregnancy or whatever else someone could be congratulated on ten years out from high school”. Small talk was easy, but grating, people couldn’t help but joke about how cold she must be here after coming from LA, or asking about contracts or jobs that she wasn’t allowed to talk about. Insincerity leaked from between their clenched, grinning teeth as they would ask “remember when we sat next to each other in bio? We sure had some good times. Did you say you were on set with Angelina Jolie last month?” They would say “It’s amazing that your career is taking off like this, it’s a tough industry” or they’d jab an all too sharp elbow into her side with a far too comfortable smile and say “If you ever need some company out there in LA, call me.”

Fake smiles and performed familiarity left her exhausted and frustrated as she worked on her third drink in a brief moment to herself. She took the time to scan the room and survey if anyone worth talking to had showed up. She was just about coming up empty when a crowded table in the corner caught her eye. She might have missed him with the swarm of people he was sitting with, except for his cold blue stare. She could never miss his eyes, even if she wanted to. Steve Rogers would never not be the first person she could pick out of a crowd. They held eye contact for a moment, air tense, background voices dimmed to a dull ringing in their ears as they returned to a long unpracticed art of reading one another.

She said hello with a quirked brow, he remained impassive, so she sipped her drink and narrowed her eyes, the corner of his lip tugged ever so slightly upwards, her shoulders released the slightest bit of tension, his jaw clenched, her eyes softened, he turned his head to speak to someone else. It seemed that neither was satisfied with the interaction, if it could even be called that. Nonverbal conversations used to be their secret, an inside joke in a room full of unsuspecting idiots. Suddenly she wished she couldn’t read him quite so well anymore.

One drink and a few more awkward conversations later, fresh soap and pine and firewood reached her nose and she knew he was about to pass her on his way out. At the peak of the scent a gentle brush against her side informed her that her estimates of his whereabouts were correct and she sat glued to her seat, forcing herself not to look. But nostalgia and curiosity and possibly a dash of hopeless romanticism grabbed her by the chin after a few moments and led her eyes to the muscular frame headed for the door. He paused, hand on the door, and as if he could sense it, looked up and met her eyes. There it was again, and her heart strung with icy blue hurt. He was gone within moments but she had felt an eternity in that eye contact.

One of the comforts of being home was the ability to zone out on drives through her sleepy, small hometown. Her eyes stayed on the road and her body mechanically brought her home as she thought about seeing Steve in the bar. Flashes of a dizzying high school romance intermixed with memories of the aching emptiness that followed. The feelings existed out of sync with one another.

At home, she only enjoyed a mere few minutes of peace before her mother began her favorite line of questioning. “Why did you have to go so far away sweetheart? We miss you.” Her mother began. With a deep breath, she braced herself. “You know why, Mom. You know I wanted to act. I couldn’t have done that here.” The words fell from her lips with no thought, muscle memory had taken over. “I just don’t see why that had to be the only option. You could make a nice life for yourself here. I mean did you really want to get away from us that badly?” “Jesus, Mom. You know that’s not why I left. We’ve been over this.” The argument went in progressively louder circles for who knows how long. After enough nothing, Y/N silently grabbed her coat. She called, “I’m going for a drive.” Before shutting the front door behind her and getting into her car.

Muscle memory is a crazy thing. She hadn’t thought about where she was going, she only knew that she had to get away for a minute. Her head swarmed with frustration and anger and she finally noticed that she had pulled into the parking lot in front of the methodist church. She laughed to herself as she rested her head on the wheel. Of course she’d come here. Stupid. She moved to put the car in reverse and go somewhere, anywhere else, when taillights in her rearview mirror caught her eye. The air forcibly left her lungs in one swift exhale as she recognized that old, beat up, blue pickup.

It seemed like she had no control over anything she did anymore, as she felt herself getting out of her car. Her brain was sounding all the alarms, telling her to stop, to turn around, get back in her car, and continue her personal pity party as far away from here as possible. Maybe even back in LA at this point. But her legs carried her forward nonetheless until finally she stood on the passenger side of the truck, staring through the window.

His head rested on his steering wheel the same way hers had a few moments ago, he hadn’t seen her yet. Despite all of her rational reasoning, she raised a timid hand and gently knocked against the glass. He jolted upright once at the sound and then again when he realized who was standing in front of him. She figured she was in too deep now, no running away, so she reached out and opened the door, climbed into the passenger seat and nearly had to hold back tears as she felt her skin against its familiar leather. With all the composure she could muster, she looked over at his still stunned face. “Wanna go for a drive?” She asked, and wordlessly, he started the car.

Silence filled the space, wrapped them both up in a warm familiarity for the beginning of the drive. She knew the roads he was taking, leading them aimlessly around the town that made them who they were. There’s no telling how long they needed to sit and absorb each others’ presence, they only knew that they would speak when it felt right again. “What brought you to the lot?” He broke the silence, surprising her. That was traditionally her job. She shrugged. “My parents, pissed at me for leaving and going so far away.” He nodded and hummed. “I get that.” The silence hung between them once again. “What about you?” Guilt broke her first this time. “House felt empty, like I was seeing ghosts. Just wanted to clear my head.” His tone had a practiced evenness to it that she recognized from when he tried to hold back his feelings, like the day they broke up. “Feel like I should be apologizing for that.” She observed. He exhaled deeply. “Maybe. Maybe I should be too.” SIlence met them again and they embraced it, comfortably. She continued to sneak glances at him in the quiet, trying to read him as he drove, as he clearly was trying to close himself off to her.

She took another deep breath after a long while and broke the silence again. “So the bar was a bust, huh? I mean Bucky wasn’t even there.” His shoulders shook in a silent chuckle as she looked up in shock that he was even responding with anything other than snark or frustration. “Yeah, even Tony was acting like an ass tonight.” “Where was Nat? Or Sam? Felt like no one worth talking to was around.” “They’re busy with their lives. Although out of everyone, you were the one we all expected to show up the least.” that coldness leached back into Steve’s tone. “You guys were talking about it? Seriously?” Her brows knitted together and she crossed her arms. “I mean, come on. We all just thought you’d be on a movie set. Or with people cooler and richer than this whole town combined.” The coldness was barely there in his voice, he spoke matter-of-factly. “Nah, LA people suck. Trust me, they’ve got nothing on some of the people here. Some of them.” She put emphasis on that last bit and met Steve’s eyes as they stopped at a red light. He looked quickly back to the road as the light turned green and continued along. The silence surrounded them again. She broke it again. “I miss you.” It was barely a whisper. “Yeah.” He breathed deeply. “I miss you too.” Another stop sign, another quick glance. “But I’m sure you already knew that.” “I’m sorry.” She said once again, she didn’t even know why she was saying it anymore. He just shook his head. They rode in silence for a long time again. She wondered when silence became more comfortable with him than speaking. Somewhere after middle school, she guessed. Either way, there was a nostalgia to the quiet that wrapped her up and made her feel warm despite the guilt squeezing her by the lungs.

The truck rolled to a stop right where it had started. He put it in park and stared straight ahead. “Thanks for the ride.” She said, as her fingers grasped the door handle and she began to push the door open, Steve reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Muscle memory kicked in again as he pulled her to him, a hand threading through her hair as he placed his lips on hers. His tug on her arm had some force behind it, but the kiss itself was soft and gentle, more of a question than anything else. She could feel him holding himself back before she gave in and kissed him back like leaning into a multiple years long itch that was finally being scratched. As soon as she showed eagerness he let go completely, one of his hands was tangled in her hair, the other had snaked around her waist to rest on her back, pulling as close as he could over the center console. She took his shirt in one fist and placed a gentle palm on his cheek. She had been in her hometown for a little over a day now but she hadn’t felt really at home until this moment.

He tasted like peppermint and whiskey and she felt like she was drowning in him when he pulled back to look at her. They breathed heavily in time with one another, something that simple having brought them back into sync after all those years. He spoke first between labored breaths. “Meet me at my place?” “I’ll follow you there.”

The morning sunlight streaked through unfamiliar windows and it took Y/N a moment to comprehend where she was. She sat up in bed and surveyed the neat bedroom she found herself in. It was simple, just the bed, an armchair in the corner, and a large, overstuffed bookshelf. The door creaked open to reveal Steve, in just his boxers, holding two steaming mugs.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead” He said with a chuckle as he carefully slid back into bed next to her. He handed her one of the mugs and a large t-shirt of his. She pulled the shirt, soft and well worn, over her head and then took a sip, coffee exactly how she liked it. She looked over to him in surprise to find him watching her anxiously. Her shocked smile easily melted the worry lines above his brow as he let out what sounded like an involuntary laugh. “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t have much faith in your high school preferences but I guess some things do never change.” She laughed and let out a playful scoff.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For everything.” They sat, sipping in silence for another few moments before she spoke again. “I missed you.” “I missed you too, Sugar.” He let his old nickname for her fall from his lips for the first time in ten years and she knew he could see the way it made her breath catch in her throat. They stilled, reading each other as gently as possible, searching for safe waters to steer whatever this was towards. She made the first attempt. “So we didn’t get to talking much last night,” her lips twisted in a wry smile and he laughed and shook his head, tension leaving his shoulders. “How’ve you been? What have you been doing? When did you move out of your parents’ place? Catch me up on all that I’ve missed,” She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she raised eyebrows along with her mug to her lips.

He smiled, softly, no teeth, a mix of fondness and hurt in his eyes, but not the accusatory kind she had seen at the bar. It was a dull, sort of throbbing ache that she was all too familiar with that swam in the expansive blue of his eyes. And he started talking. He moved out of his parents’ house about five years back. As soon as he had the money to do it he was out of there. It had been mostly work for the last ten years. He looked at her with a slight sadness as he sighed and said “not much else to report”. She shook her head. “I’m sure that’s not true Rogers, I’ll just have to get a good few drinks in you to hear whatever stories you’re holding back,” she poked him gently in the rib and he laughed. “Trust me, there really aren’t many stories to tell. Feels like this place got a whole lot less exciting once you left.” It was like someone attached a string to all the air in her lungs and yanked it out through her mouth.

“Why didn’t you? Leave, I mean” She asked carefully. “I don’t know, I always thought about it but I had a job and then I started to climb ranks and build something of my own so it all just kind of made sense here,” He trailed off. She saw his minute intake of breath and knew he had more to say. She gave him space to get it out. “Plus where would I go anyway?” He finally let out, quiet, maybe even a bit fearful, his voice quivering the slightest bit. She wanted to put a hand on his arm, tell him he could have always come to LA, stayed with her, but she knew better than to offer that. Instead she put her coffee down on the nightstand and curled into his side, resting her head in his lap.

“Do you ever want to leave?” “I don’t know.” He placed his mug down as well and ran fingers through her hair. “Sometimes. But I mostly like the life I’ve built. I see why you did though,” “You do?” She peered up at him. “Yeah. I mean, this place can be tough. I still don’t know why you wouldn’t stay with me, why you didn’t even want to try with us, but I can respect why you couldn’t stay here.” She sat up, bringing a hand to his face. He leaned into it, letting her fingers rake over stubble and caress his jaw and cheek bones. “I didn’t want to. I just had to get away and I was young and stupid and I didn’t know if I could truly leave if I still had anything here that I was holding on to. If only I’d known what LA was going to be like. That holding onto a piece of my soul might actually have saved me from a lot of pain down the line.” “Are you gonna leave again?” His eyes wouldn’t leave hers and she couldn’t look away, trapped by his gaze. There was no pressure, there was no ill-will or blame, simply an understanding, a sense of I will not be blindsided by this again.

“I’m here for the weekend, aren’t I?” His air rushed out of him. She could tell he was disappointed but he did a good job concealing most of it. She sat up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, hoping it could convey so much of what she just felt too damn ineloquent to express in words, and then got out of bed and cleared away the coffee mugs. She brought them to the kitchen and rinsed them to give him a second to think, to just be alone. When she came back he looked calm, he had leaned back against his antique wooden headboard, his arms crossed and his brow uncreasing as he seemed to come out of a thought. “You’re here for the weekend?” he asked, gesturing a bit to the space around him, indicating his home. She giggled and nodded. “The whole damn weekend, if that’s ok with you?” She confirmed and he smiled, shoulders and eyebrows relaxing. “Oh that is more than ok with me, I’ll take what I can get, Sugar.” He looked at her with genuine joy it seemed, so much hurt now missing from his gaze. With a wink she turned and started into the bathroom. “Now just what are you getting up to?” He asked and she pulled his shirt over her head with a comfortable smile. “I had an absolutely filthy night last night, feels like I need to wash off.” She tossed the shirt at him, leaving her bare skin exposed, “You coming?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am” he said, his tone soaked in reverence and eyes full of desire as he made his way after her.

48 hours is nothing in the grand scheme of things, but they stretched it for all it was worth. She made breakfast, he cooked dinner. They rarely left the house except for one extra large grocery run. They drank hot chocolate, they sat by the fireplace and watched movies, they went for a walk around his property, they kissed every chance they got and almost never stopped touching each other in some way. He held her like he knew he was going to have to let go far sooner than he’d like. She couldn’t stop staring at him, trying to memorize this version of him, of them together. They were an older, more mature version of themselves, free of adolescent sting and grudges but never quite escaping a quiet fog of sadness that sometimes tasted like regret if she closed her eyes and focused on it too hard.

The time flew by all too quickly. Suddenly she was packing her small bag, preparing for her flight the next day. She was carefully folding her clothes and trying not to focus too hard on how intently Steve was watching her. She knew him too well at this point, could feel the force of his willpower on her, his presence begging her to stay. But he didn’t say anything, so she didn’t either. She simply zipped up her bag, crawled into bed, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and kissed him, lips meeting his with force and passion. He tangled a hand in her hair and wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her into him, and for just a second, it felt like no other words needed to be said.

Hours later, she rested her head on his chest, feeling his even breathing, listening to his steady heartbeat. She stared into the empty darkness of his room, mind in a rush to get nowhere in particular, jumping anxieties like changing trains in an endless commute. Where do we go from here? Do I just go back home and pretend none of this happens? Can I handle the same silence I sat in for ten years? WIll he miss me? She raced through uncertainties at a rapid pace, but always found herself coming back to the same question. Would he ever just ask me to stay? She wasn’t even sure if she knew what her answer would even be if he did, but she wondered nonetheless. She could feel his breathing hitch, his arm around her shift, she knew he was still awake. She wondered what he was thinking about. She stayed silent and hoped that for once he couldn’t read her like she knew he always could.

In the morning they dressed in silence. She gathered her things and he brought her a cup of coffee, offered wordlessly. They sat in his kitchen, sipping in silence, bodies tense for fear of inadvertently giving too much away. He spoke first, softly, almost timid. “When’s your flight?” “Around two, should probably head to my parents’ to say goodbye soon.” He nodded. “We can head over there whenever you’re ready.” “We?” she quirked her brow and bit back a smirk. “How else do ya think you’re gonna get to the airport, dummy?” He said as he placed his mug in the sink. He found himself frozen upon turning around, confronted with a beaming smile centered directly on him. Neither spoke. The air grew thick and hot around them, a question grew into a lump into his throat, pushed its way to the precipice of his tongue before he swallowed it back down and reached over to grab her empty mug. Her shoulders sunk ever so slightly with what he thought might be disappointment but he couldn’t be sure. “Thank you.” She said softly, “for the coffee and the ride” She paused for a moment. “And the weekend.” He smiled and shot her a quick wink. “Anytime, Sugar” It felt like physically holding herself together, trying not to melt in that moment, and she knew he saw the way she tensed up a bit.

Warm air and sunny skies greeted her as she stepped out of LAX, but a chill ran through her body nonetheless, frost emanating from what felt like an empty pit residing in her stomach. Her phone was already buzzing constantly, messages from her agent, her publicist, friends, everyone and anyone trying to get her attention now that her little “vacation” was over. With a sigh, she scrolled through the messages and eventually called her agent, grateful for the chance to throw herself back into work and shake off the icy blue chill that seemed to follow her all the way here.

LA was busy, there was always something to be done, someone to call or meet with, a script to read over, lines to learn, workout classes to take, personal grooming to be attended to. It kept her occupied, allowing for a distraction as her mind would wander. Even as months passed, her focus never fully narrowed, and there was only so much she could do before the scent of soap and pine needles and freshly cut wood began to seep through the edges of her imagination. They didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure what the protocol would be and they hadn’t had the time to talk about it so she just gave him space, wondering if he was still reeling from their rekindling as much as she was.

She went to parties, hung out with friends, but there was a vacancy there, like everyone looked right through her, or saw her as just another rung on their own ladder to success. She could feel the insincerity in their smiles, squeezing her close with bony, designer swaddled limbs and whispering “I missed you baby!” or “It’s so good to see you!” or “Bestie, how have you been!?” and then pulling away with a smug smirk like they knew they had just given the oscar-winning performance. She wanted nothing more than to tell somebody, anybody about Steve, about what she was going through, but she couldn’t trust anyone. Spilling to any of these people would have the tabloids on it in a second.

So she worked. And she gave her own insincere smiles and hellos that didn’t go below the surface. And she kept her head down. She made some decent movies. She put out some work that she was really proud of. She walked the red carpet alone. She was getting offers on a consistent basis now, being able to be more and more selective about what she wanted to work on. It wasn’t about survival anymore, it was about what she wanted. And suddenly she felt like she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

She stood on the red carpet for her last film of the year, a cheesy christmas romance that she only had a supporting role in, bombarded by photographers and people yelling her name. She flashed her perfectly practiced smile and straightened out her classic, deep red, floor length gown before leaving the mark for someone else. The shuttering of cameras, the screaming fans and paparazzi and stressed out PAs, the flashing lights, the similarly overstimulated and overworked stars all faded behind her as she walked into the darkness of the theater, and for one singular moment, for the first time in almost exactly a year, she felt peaceful. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to her assistant, changed my mind, actually do book me that ticket for tomorrow? You’re the best, and then she sat down to enjoy her cheesy, silly movie.

She pulled into the driveway in a rental car that smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Through the windows she could see her mother fussing about, putting decorations in place, getting the house in order. It looked warm inside. The flight had been long and her head hurt and her body ached but she found herself locked in place, white knuckles on the wheel. She couldn’t pry her fingers away to open the door. Her head was spinning and her chest felt tight until she let muscle memory take over as she shifted the car into reverse and suddenly everything felt clear. She followed the roads on autopilot, knowing exactly where she would end up but feeling not entirely sure until she arrived.

Stepping out of the car was easy this time. Too easy, in fact. She left it running, door open as she followed the magnetic pull to his front door, adorned with a vibrant, homemade pine wreath. Her heart felt like it was clawing its way out of her body through her throat as she reached a shaking hand up and knocked on the door. She held her breath for a few stunned, silent, panicked moments until she heard movement somewhere inside the house. The air came out of her all in a rush as the door opened and there Steve Rogers stood, right in front of her, live and in the flesh, blue eyes wide as they landed on her. “Hi.” seemed to be the only thing he could get out.

“Hi.” She responded breathlessly. They stood, staring at each other for a long moment, and when he finally opened his mouth to speak she cut him off, letting the words just tumble out. “I’m so sorry I left, I’ve been so miserable this whole year and I just missed you so much and I regret everything I never should have left at all.” she paused for a deep breath. “Would you mind if I stay?” She could barely finish her question before he was pulling her in close, threading a hand through her hair and wrapping the other around her waist, and kissing her like there was nothing else he could ever need but this. He pulled back gently and rested his forehead against hers. “Is that a yes?” She asked, breathlessly. “What? And have waited for you all this time for nothing? Course I wouldn’t mind, Sugar.” He whispered before pulling her in for another kiss, slow, lazy this time, for he had no reason to rush, she had no other place to be, and they had nothing but time.

#captain america #the avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #steve rogersxreader #captain america x reader #captain america/reader #captain americaxreader #steve rogers/you #fluff #mutual pining #idiots in love #reunion #high school exes reunited #no powers au #Taylor Swift inspired #tis the damn season

20 notes · View notes