#steven with stubble T-T
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the new su poster cleared my skin and watered my crops
[poster on reddit]
#shes wearing a pink shirt im actually going insane#steven with stubble T-T#steven universe#connverse#connie maheswaran#steven universe future#my art#everything on the poster made me go insane- but i needed to draw connie with her pink shirt
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Spread for Marc
Marc Spector x reader:
Sum: Smut, have fun.
Open wide for Steven
Bend over for Jake
When someone pulls up next to you in the street it’s best to get away from them. Find a store or restaurant you can duck into and wait out for a few minutes. When that’s not an option, like now when a white limo pulls up and honks, move away from the sidewalk and keep moving.
“Baby, hey!”
Or completely stop in your tracks because your boyfriend just yelled from said limo.
With tinted windows and an early night sky it was impossible to see who was driving. It took Marc rolling down the passenger side window to see properly. Marc is smiling when you make eye-contact.
“Need a ride?” He asks, although you were already opening the door.
“Where’d you get the car?” You asked.
Marc snorted when you asked that. Driving through past your place as the night got that much darker with the tinted windows. He slows while approaching a red light. Arm stretched across the seats; he lightly touches your hair. Both to get your attention and to have some way to touch you.
“From a friend of a friend. Specifically a friend of a friend I really wanna piss off. Care to help me with that?” He asks.
It wasn’t like you had other plans for the night. It’s almost insulting that Marc didn’t need to wait for you to say yes before taking a right into the closest parking garage. A hand on your shoulder while Marc drives to the second level. Pulling into a space in the furthest corner possible.
The engine is still rumbling when you go for him. Grabbing his stubbled face and pulling his mouth into yours. Although he kisses back it feels so much more like a bite.
“So,” You ask between breathes. “What did this friend do to make you so mad?”
Marc chuckles into your mouth. Pulling away to open his driver side door.
“Does it really matter?” he asks when you do the same and step out of the car. Watching him walk around the front to your side. Opening the back-seat door and gesturing inside like a proper chauffer. “Besides, he’s not the one I wanna be thinking about right now.”
It shouldn’t be surprising that you got a little pat on the backside while climbing in. Letting out a fake gasp of surprise when he does this. As if you weren’t climbing straight into his lap right after the door closes.
Marc always smells like work. From the sweat in the crook of his neck, to the bits of nature like sand or leaves that can always be found in his hair. He’s always off on a job to pay for a lifestyle you only got glimpses of. Obviously you had your own stuff going on, but you weren’t the one who specifically asked for space when he was at work.
“Missed you,” he whispers. Hands up and down your back, trying to find a zipper or some kind of opening. The way he digs his nails into the fabric suggests he may just start tearing.
“Missed you too.” You say back, pushing away just enough to get the zipper at the back of your neck. Bringing it down in a way that could be teasing if the angle weren’t so weird.
Marc takes over. Bringing the zipper down gently, but pulling the dress open roughly. It pools in your lap. Marc refusing to let even a second go to waste; cupping your breasts with a strength on this side of rough. Thumbs pressing roughly through your bra cups.
You do your own mapping over Marc’s body. Getting each of his buttons open one by one without needing to see. His pectorals are firm and warm in your hands. Rubbing over the bump of his nipples and getting a little groan of appreciation from it. Never having enough of that sound you rub him again; going so far as to squeeze the right side with a little twist.
Marc’s groan becomes a quick hiss of pain. Not bad enough to stop but enough that you smiled at his reaction. Twisting again and getting a completely different reaction. Your bottom lip is bitten into and pulled slightly.
It’s surprising when the limo’s floor suddenly hits your back. For a brief second you get a sight of Marc between your thighs. His shirt opened to show his chest and the necklace you reach out for. His holds you legs up over his forearms. Barely giving them a care when he presses forward. Kissing you breathless while his bulge presses against your panty covered pussy.
“Need you,” He moans, another slow rub of his hips. Harsh denim where you’d rather his skin would be. “Want you.”
He knows you want him too. Otherwise you would be holding his face for dear life.
“Condom?” You ask, not nearly as sexy as what he said but necessary to be asked.
“Yeah, yeah.” Marc says, sitting up to his knees to pat at his pockets.
In the few seconds it take Marc to find the golden square and to open his pants there was a knock on the window. One that started with a tap but got more aggressive as you and Marc look at eachother. Waiting for the other to say something first.
“Windows tinted.” Marc whispers, leaning over you slowly. “Just stay quiet.”
“I know you’re in there.” The woman on the other side shouts.
While Marc really doesn’t care about someone seeing them like this, you may be a different story. Knowing this Marc rolls down the window but a little bit. Just enough Marc to see the security woman on the other side. Unfortunately leaving you on the limos floor, your arms crossed at being interrupted.
“I’ll pay for the parking, Ma’am. I promise.” Marc says, using his nice guy voice.
“That’s not the problem, sir. And you know that. I’m sorry but this isn’t a hook up spot. It’s parking only, and not that kind of parking.” Just in the way the security guard talks you can tell that the shift has been a long one. Maybe she was the kind of power-hungry guard in the beginning of the night but that had been beaten out of her. Now its obvious that she just wants to go home.
“I swear we’re just having a chat-.” Marc starts to say. Ignoring how you were making fun of the way he said that. “And we’ll leave soon. We haven’t seen eachother in a minute and I just wanna talk to my girl. Please?”
The guard is quiet for a second before finally saying; “’Talk’? You really think I’m that stupid?”
“Oh, of course not. But I do think you’re overworked and need a raise. Like, thirty dollar raise?” Marc puts a handout behind him. Pointing towards the front seat where his wallet was.
You scramble into action. Climbing into the front seat and grabbing the leather wallet from the cup holder. Opening it up for the cash inside before the guard can say the obvious answer.
You get the thirty into his hand before the guard speaks.
“Fine just try to be out of here before my shift change. Gives you about two hours. So enjoy.” She says with a sigh. Trying to subtle about taking the money from the open window.
Marc waves although the guard likely couldn’t see it.
“You’re such a nice tipper.” You say, laying back down while Marc goes back to work on his pants. “I’m more interested in your other tip, though.”
Marc actually laughs at that. Spotting to look at you, to confirm that that did come out of your mouth and continues laughing. His pants open wide enough for you to appreciate the outline. Not getting the chance to get anything else. Marc tapping your side and helping you roll onto hands and knees.
“How long did it take you to think of that one?” He asks, a warm hand sliding up your back.
“Somewhere between getting your wallet and getting another look at that ass.” You reply. Bra strap opened. His hands quickly there to cover your breasts in there stead. Squeezing softly, pinching gently, and pressing firmly in appreciation.
His cock is harder as he rubs against you. Underwear the only thing keeping the two of you apart. The tease is alright though. It lets you spread your legs and thrust back into him.
You move in a rhythm that made it impossible to notice the journey of his hand from your breast to your crotch. Rubbing two fingers over your panties, as if to try and soak them in your wetness that only drives you crazy in wanting. Whispering his name in the same low tone that he matches with your own name.
It’s slow going as your panties are slid down. Marc leaving them around your knees when he goes back to your pussy. Now able to properly feel you without the fabric. Sliding his two fingers over your lips a few times before dipping in. A loud groan on his end telling the world that he missed this heat.
“Want you.” You say, leaning forward for your head to rest against the floor.
“Want me?” He asks. Sitting up and taking away the fingers you’ve been missing these past few months. “Well, I need you, Baby. I need you so bad.”
Those two fingers are back just after he says this. Spreading open your lips for his appreciation. Framed by a sundress pushed up past your hips and your face pressed into the floor. Hands curing against the ground in anticipation.
“Ready?” He asks and you nod.
Lubricant from the condom spreads over your hole. Marc gently swirling around before sliding through. The time apart brings out a gasp from your throat when the tip goes in. Marc’s hands on your ass are soft. Practically caressing your cheeks in support.
“Fuck,” Marc whispers, pressing forward until his hips meet yours.
You could die like this. The carpet is itchy on your cheek, this dress is gonna be stained, and Marc literally paid money to fuck you. All that meant nothing when Marc was this deep, this hot, and this close.
His hand on the back of your neck is supportive and firm. His weight is strong and almost overwhelming on your back. He kisses your cheek and moans into your ear. He is heaven as a person. His thrusts starting slow while he stays pressed closed, kissing your ear and neck with everything he has before starting to speed up a bit.
“More.” You demand, and Marc complies.
His thrusts are sharp and neck grip is harsh. The other hand, your favorite hand, is back on your crotch. Rubbing slowly to contrast the quick thrusts that jiggly your body every time. Alternating between circling and sliding over your pearl until he started to hear what he needed.
“That, just like that.” You say, always ready to give directions.
It’s building, that feeling. It’s creating from his fingers, into your crotch and pelvis. It’s driving out moans and groans that security guard is pretending not hear. In your breasts, clutching your heart, the orgasm is looking over the peak. Not willing to fall over the edge until you cry out. Clenched around his cock and straining against the weight of your man.
“God, like a vice.” Marc says when you peak. “No better feeling. No better woman.”
You don’t get a second of respite from Marc. Your peaking orgasm is nothing but a green light to Marc. Sitting up straight. The hands that brought you to edge and held you down while it happened were now on your hips. Gripping hard enough to leave marks you’ll poke and appreciate later on.
Marc is quiet when he’s focused. Moving your hips forward and back against the rhythm of his own thrusts. Sensitivities punch a grunt from you each time. Only fuel that makes Marc go faster and faster, refusing to slow until he own orgasm ripped a shout from him.
It’s so sudden he doesn’t have the time to bury his face in your shoulder. Instead letting his head fall back as if there is no better relief in this world then to be buried in your pussy. Something that he confirms when collapsing onto you, moaning his thanks into your ear, and breathing heavier than he probably should be.
“Marc,” You groan after a second. “Air.”
“Mm, sorry.” He says, rolling off and flat onto his back.
He removes and ties off the condom. Tossing it away without a single care. If the owner weren’t on bad terms with your man you might have said something. But seeing Marc flushed, sweaty, and fucked made those thoughts stay inside your head.
His eyes are still closed when you regain your ability to move. It would be a good guess that he had fallen asleep. No better reason than to crawl over and give a soft kiss without repercussions.
“I really did miss you.” You say, waiting to hear the snores he makes when sleeping.
“I missed you too.” He says instead. Taking your hand without opening his eyes. “More than you know.”
#reader insert#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#one-shot#marvel imagine#part 1#Idk anymore#moon knight#moon knight x reader#no y/n
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NEW AVENGERS TICKLE HEADCANONS - Part Two -
JANE FOSTER (pre love and thunder)
Lee:
- Thor’s tickle toy
- Isn’t there a scene of her being tickled by Thor in love and thunder?
- Also, Natalie Portman is very ticklish so Jane is too in my head
- Ticklish on her sides and tummy
- Bearded raspberries from Thor sdjfhjhklfghg
- Bubbly giggler
- Pokes will make her squeal
Ler:
- Mom energy
- Giggles along with her lee
- Your tummy is not safe from her raspberries and kisses
- The type to tickle someone exposing their spots
JENNIFER WALTERS
Lee:
- ticklish cutie
- Her sides, hips, feet, and tummy are her worst spots
- Ticklish in the comics gotta be ticklish in the MCU
Ler:
- You have no hope of getting away with she hulk tickling you
- she will hold your arms up and tickle you until you cry
- Will taunt you with the T-word
- “Tickle tickle tickleee!”
- Will hold you in her arms as She hulk and cuddle you after wrecking you
THE THREE MOON BOYS
MARC
Lee:
- Pretty ticklish
- Ribs are death spot
- Layla and him being in so many tickle fights her winning
- Khonshu also using his powers to tickle him when he misbehaves
Ler:
- Will poke you to death
- Teases Steven about how RIDICULOUSLY ticklish he is
- Pins his lee down
STEVEN
Lee:
- ok ok ok stay calm sfjpfgjg
- TICKLISH BABY
- His tummy is his weak spot
- Layla knows this
- JAKE knows this
- MARC knows this
- The WHOLE FREAKING WORLD knows this
Ler:
...
JAKE
Lee:
...
Ler:
- aafjfgee RUN
- Will wreck anyone within a 0.00000000001 mile radius
- Terrifying Ler
MATT MURDOCK
Lee:
- Very very ticklish ribs
- Why is it in my head that tickling him can disrupt his radar sense
- High pitched laughter from tickling him will ensue
- Jen loves his laugh and will tickle him just to hear it
Ler:
- THE STUBBLE ON HIS CHIN DDLKFEKF
- Squeezes and kneading
- Discovered Jen was ticklish by accident
- He WILL rub your tummy with his beard and it WILL tickle
- Smiles as he tickles his lee
Lee:
- Katie is Shang’s main ler
- Ticklish on his sides and EARS SHIGHDHDDH
- Big lee
- Katie teasing him and poking his sides
- Screams when tickled on his sides
Ler:
- Knows exactly the perfect way to tickle
- Victim of several bruises from tickling Xialing
- Just all around older brother energy when in a ler mood
- 50/50 switch
#new avengers#marvel tickle#mcu tickle#headcanons#tickle headcanons#marvel tickles#marvel tickle headcanons#tickling#ticklish#tickle#sfw blog#sfw tickle blog#tickle blog#blog#tickle community#sfw tickling
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✨ Top Five Treys ✨
#5: Theater Talk (2011)
(Series with @a-magical-evening 💖)
Ramblings about this appearance:
A through line I’ve found when listening to so many interviews is that Trey really loves to comment on how the subject of his work enjoys his work. Catholics like Anne enjoyed this commentary, Mormons say “hey it’s Orgazmo!”, people stop us on the street and say this, we’ve met people who say that, etc. I think that illustrates his actual care for the subjects, which he’s expressed before. These examples are used as like a ‘hey, we’re not out here just writing shit to make people mad, they like this stuff, you or the specific guy we’re making fun of are probably the problem’. I can understand the notion of hating when others are offended on someone else’s behalf. That goes into his whole notion of hating self-righteous, elitist people, or even liberalism, in that some people feel the need to speak up and in turn speak over people.
I like how clearly he is fascinated with Mormonism, and history, and his home, and musical theater. He has real passion for things, and I admire the way he can take these concepts and interests he has and funnel them into creative projects. You can see the steppingstones from Cannibal, to Orgazmo, to BOM, and how they all incorporate the culture and history surrounding the place he grew up, especially South Park.
I think watching this interview could clear up a lot of accusations that M&T don’t give a fuck about anything and just enjoy the nihilism of making fun of people. Both of them show this respect and fascination with religion. They speak so carefully and softly about it lol.
That’s so great that they met Bobby and all of them were like hell yeah Mormon musical!! I also like how they went to see Avenue Q together and the idea that Trey’s always dragging Matt to musicals until he’s like okay I’m into it now, let’s win all the Tonys lol. It also makes the Broadway Brodown episode of SP funnier, with the idea that: if the person who doesn’t want to see a musical goes and sees a musical for the person who does, they should get rewarded with a blowjob...Like, Trey we know you’re the theater queen who cries at Le Mis, you can’t claim Randy as your self-insert here...so what part of the equation is he??
Matt smiling at Trey is the cutest fucking thing, stoppp
Rare occurrence of Trey back tracking with the statement that they liked every Mormon they met and they’re so likable, and then he’s like ‘wait!! There are probably bad ones!! I know!!’
Trey calling BOM his baby 😢
“Have they ever not jumped to their feet?” “BASEketball.” Lmao
That letter from Steven Sondheim really touched Trey, that’s so sweet. He framed it too.
“You guys always come as kind of a matched set, do you do anything independent of each other?” “No.” 😇
Anyway, on a superficial note: he looked so hot here honestly. I hate a man in jeans, but they look good on him tbh... Very clean look, his eyes are very striking, and the stubble is such a good look that I love. I like this era of him still keeping a little length to his hair, where it curls up a bit, very cute. Ugh, he’s just so pretty, so gorgeous. Love him. Love all his gesticulating and when he smiles. He’s so fine. 💖💖💖
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☼ - appearance headcanon
Marc is Casual for Life. It’s too much effort to look nice when he isn’t on a mission or just himself. He sticks to a uniform of jeans, plain dark shirt, and a military green jacket. It’s a toss up between boots and sneakers. He shaves semi-regularly but if he’s mostly fronting and doesn’t have a reason to, he develops stubble. During the Wild Dog Days, he sometimes grew a beard.
Steven is the fashion plate. Business casual at the very least. Has a tailor on speed dial. Athletic clothes are for the gym or long walks. Dresses the part of Mr. Wall Street. Thinks Jake’s and Marc’s clothes are a prison. Ironic since most feel like suits are constricting?
Jake is Working Man Casual. Stereotypical taxi driver. Crumpled jeans he found on the floor (thanks Marc), plain t-shirts or button up workman’s shirt. Brown jacket or red zip up hoodie. Has plenty of flat caps in lovingly kept condition. The green one was the first one.
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July 2021 - Fic Recs Master List
Please heed all the warnings on the individual fics. I am not responsible for what you choose read.
I challenge everyone who sees this to read and Reblog one fic from the list 🤩🥳 tag me if you do
📚 Sam Wilson
Here We Go Again - @xbuchananbarnes - Prompt: This Love by Camilla Cabello
📚 Frank Castle
All's Fair - @wonder-cole - Gif drabble with a flirty Frank.
📚 Steve Rogers
The Shadow at My Window - @cockslut-padalecki - Y/N is forever losing things, and when she misplaces her purse one day, it’s down to Steve to return it to her.
📚 Clark Kent
Stubble - @the-wrong-providence - Fluff | Long-term relationship | Mentions of smut | Bad writing
📚 Bucky Barnes
The Right Partner - @tarithenurse - This beautiful piece of music (“Ghost of You”) by Caro Emerald got me to write a little something about Bucky Barnes that can be either from reader’s or Steve’s perspective for when they are apart.
The Lost Converse - @firefly-in-darkness - Last nights party was a bit of a mad one, what do you do when you wake up in someone else’s bed?
Yes Ma'am - @sidepartskinnyjeans - Bucky Barnes has a thing for a girl in stockings, for a specific girl in stockings. And don't you know it. Tony is a meddling shit.
Shreds - @xxindiglow - Bucky's ex-gf goes to collect her things after a breakup wearing a skimpy outfit and deliciousness ensues.
Safe - @gogolucky13 - Bucky is out for a late night walk when you’re in need of saving.
Demon Bucky x Reader - @angrythingstarlight - I've been thinking about a priest trying to "save" the reader from Demon Bucky, only to fail miserably and gets forced to watch Bucky fuck the reader in his own church.
In My Dreams - @river-soul-library - Every night Bucky dreams about chasing you through the forest
📚 Erik Stevens/Kilmonger
The Dot Of A Leopard - @tarithenurse - Do a killmonger X reader fic please!!!
📚 Chris Evans
You and Me - @jamielea81 - Mostly fluff. Talk of trying to conceive.
Who On Earth Could Say No To That Face?! - @xxindiglow - I’ve had this fluffy/cute little blurb about Chris & Dodger that keeps popping up into my head.
📚 Sam Winchester
Riding Crop - @rockhoochie - Sam Winchester, in the Bunker Dungeon, with a riding crop.
Awakening - @b3autyfuldisast3r - Reader helps Sam get his soul back with the help of some physical persuasion
The (almost) Perfect Crime (ch.1) - @1000roughdrafts - SPN AU Sam is a shaddy lawyer.
Seriously - @capsheadquaters - “How is my wife/girlfriend more badass than me?!” / “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!” / “Stop being so dam cute” / “What are you¦ five?!”
Soft Spot - @winchest09 - When you and the Winchesters are out on a case, it comes as no surprise that you and Sam clash over your theories of what you could be hunting. A clash that ends in something unexpected.
Gum - @watermelonlipstick - You help Sam get gum out of his hair.
A Hospitable Birthday - @calaofnoldor - It’s your birthday and you’re stranded at the hospital. Good thing your boyfriend’s a total dreamboat.
Hidden Heart - @idreamofplaid - Sam has been hiding how he feels about the reader. Finally, his emotions erupt.
Stripped - @pinknerdpanda - This is my offering for Smut Appreciation Day. I was wanting to write more sam x reader x dean, but didn’t have any inspiration, until I ran across this post x.
Guilt - @there-must-be-a-lock - With my remaining 5% battery, may I pls request a Dean/Sam/reader threesome but one of them is remote in some way (left a note/on the phone/gave instructions).
The T-Shirt - Part 2 - Part 3 - @lipstickandwhiskey-blog - Sometimes a t-shirt isn’t just a t-shirt.
📚 Dean Winchester
United Front - @justagirlinafandomworld - You and Dean set Sam up. Your intentions…purely selfless.
Dean's Jeans - @watermelonlipstick - A late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ.
Heaven On Earth - @firefly-in-darkness - You finally get to spend time with Dean, all to yourself.
Money From Pie - @deanwanddamons - Gif drabble
Heard, Seen, Believed // Heard: Cursed & Blind // @stusbunker - After a messy witch hunt, you call your roommate desperate for some help with the aftermath. Everything changes between you.-
Put On A Show - @justagirlinafandomworld - Song Prompt: Circus by Britney Spears
📚 Ketch
Ketch-22 - @idabbleincrazy - Beka gets cursed on a hunt and the cure is not something she’d ever thought she’d have to do.
#pm666reads#July 21 Recs#Bucky Barnes#Erik Stevens#Kilmonger#Chris Evans#Sam Winchester#Dean Winchester#Frank Castle#Clark Kent#Steve Rogers#Ketch#Sam Wison
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okay so i didn’t have any kissing prompts so i just wrote kissing for the anon who wanted connie to be the more active kisser. merry chrimmas
make out stuff below, obvi. rated t
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They’re new to kissing still. He doesn’t know what makes her want to kiss him. There’s time to figure it out, he knows, and he’d like to get there, but it’s the beginning of things. They’re learning. It’s alright that it’s all confusing still.
She made a joke about his road trip, lighthearted without the slightest trace of bitterness. He said he’s loving Keystone, and she said he’s going to vanish into a square pizza parlor and she’ll never see him again. Well, she said it better than that. She’s funny. Or maybe he’s just so in love with her he thinks her bad jokes are good ones.
He says, “I wouldn’t leave you for anything. Not even round pizza.”
She must know that by now. She must know that her loves her, after everything. How could she not when every time she comes to his hotel room he has two twins sized beds instead of a queen? Why else would he keep her brand of shampoo in his suitcase? It’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s so obvious that he is hopelessly in love with her, that he never wants her to leave.
Emotion flicks across her face, too fast to read, and then she’s kissing him. His head reels from it, because they’ve gone from not-kissing to kissing so quickly. She had to take three long steps to reach him, but she’s on him so fast. She’s fast and insistent and warm.
It’s only her lips pressed to his and they’ve done it a thousand times by now. It shouldn’t mean that much to him. Instead his heart slams in his chest, loud as a drum in his ears, because he still finds it unbelievable that Connie Maheswaran kisses him of all people.
She takes a breath. “You’ll stop me?”
“Hmm?”
“If you’re uncomfortable,” she explains. With each syllable he feels her lips, slightly chapped against his own. “You’ll stop me, right?”
He’s said it before, but he knows why she’s careful. Her family doesn’t touch like his. It’s a slight gap between them, where she doesn’t quiet understand how easily he accepts touch, how effortless it is for him to redirect it if it bothers him. She needs him to repeat himself, because she doesn’t understand it.
He reassures her, “I’ll stop you.”
It’s been a long day. He’s sure he’ll be an awful kisser, lazy and listless. If Connie could hear his thoughts, she’d scold him for it, but she can’t. She only had his words. His permission. That’s enough for her to be on him again.
She kisses him with a gasp, like she was gone too long without air. It’s always her sounds that get him - her guard lowered, her composure unraveled. It makes him feel like she really needs him. His therapist says it’s okay to need to feel needed. He says most people do. Steven just has to focus it in the right ways on the right things - like, say, his girlfriend wanting to make out with him.
Connie doesn’t like Frenching much, unlike him. When they’re slower, when she’s not so needful, she indulges him and their tongues touch for as long as he likes. Not today. Her lips leave his straight away because she needs him, really needs him today.
Her body pushes against his, gentle but insistent pressure until he topples back to the bed. Her mouth slips along his jaw - soft against his stubbled chin, because he’s healed her chapped lips without even thinking about it.
Connie kisses ever higher, a little slow as her mouth ambles up to his ear. Her breath trembles, her hand weaves fingers into his curls. She loves his hair, loves to give little tugs to expose the parts of his neck she wants to reach.
Her teeth meet his ear as her excitement overrides her caution. A little whimper sparks from him as heat starts in his chest - a low but steady ember. She shifts from his sound. Her weight settles on his hips, a giddy giggle spilling from her lips.
His hands rest on her thighs as he basks in her attention. Heat pools in his belly as her tongue traces the shell of his ear, as he feels her pressed flush against him. Shivers slip down his spine as she pulls his head to the side, devours his neck. Lips and tongue and teeth make his breath come heavy, making him itch to grab her and hold her close.
But he needs for her to start it all, to show him just how badly she wants him. That’s more important. So he lets his thumbs stroke her legs through the fabric of her shorts. He moves just enough to let her know he’s just as eager participant as she is.
Her fingers slip beneath his shirt, and his heart leaps at her boldness. He feels her calloused fingers against the sensitive skin of his belly, his hips. Steven squeaks as, at the same moment, her teeth find his collarbone.
“I love you,” she whispers. Her fingers fall to his gem. It’s safety - pure vulnerability to have her touch the diamond that sits at his navel. But she would never shatter, never crack. There’s no fear from her hand there, unlike so many others who had tried to touch.
“I love you too,” he says, and pauses just for a moment. “Hey. What made you want to kiss me?”
She leans back, blinks one. “Oh. Um. You said you wouldn’t leave me for anything. I like romantic stuff like that. I like knowing you want me.”
“Me too. It’s just hard to tell with you sometimes.” A little laugh bursts from him.
Connie snorts in return. “Sorry. Let me try again - I want you, Steven Universe.” She smiles, then it fades, her eyes drifting down his his lips. Her fingers skim the smooth facets of his gem. Her voice deepens, softens. “I thought it was obvious that I want you. This is how I say it.”
She kisses him again.
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Stark Spangled Banner
Ch44: Peanut Butter And Poop
Introducing: Baby Rogers!
Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr for the edits. They melted me.
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
Chapter 43
Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist
March 2020
“Is everything ok?” Steve asked, tiredly. For the fourth time in about two minutes Katie had shifted, next to him, rubbing her hand over her distended belly. She was fed up now, and he wished he could help her get comfy, he really did. But until their baby decided to make an appearance, there wasn’t much more he could do. She had been feeling crappy all day and had thrown a spectacular tantrum at the fact Steve had shaved his stubble. His reasoning being that although she technically had another four weeks to go, she was already at full term size, and if their son arrived, who knew how long it would be before he managed to shave again, but she was having none of it. Steve had simply stood there, calmly whilst she’d ranted and raved about that and everything else she was pissed off about before she’d broken down into tears and apologised, falling into his arms and going on another rant about how shitty she was feeling.
His wife was such a strong person normally, the strongest person Steve knew in fact, but over the last week she’d been up and down mood-wise more than any other time during her pregnancy, and he hated seeing her so uncomfortable and upset. And tonight, she was physically the most uncomfortable he had seen her yet.
“Yeah, he’s just kicking.” She sighed, rolling over to face him. “Really hard, Steve. It fucking hurts.”
Steve gave her a sympathetic smile as he reached out and pressed his hand to her abdomen, waiting, and then he felt another sharp dig, Katie hissing air out through her teeth.
“Maybe he’s gonna be a footballer.” Steve yawned, attempting to make light of the situation. But it didn’t work.
“Well I’m not a football.” She grumbled, pressing her hand to her stomach just above Steve’s. “Pack it in, Buddy, please.”
Co-incidence or not, their baby stopped kicking, but Katie was still restless. She moved again, and again, until finally Steve sat up, flicking on the lamp, his face silently asking her what the issue was. Katie had to smile, there wasn’t a shred of annoyance in his face, despite the fact it was almost one in the morning thanks to her sleep patterns being all over the place. Instead, there was nothing but love and genuine concern across his handsome features and coupled with the fact she was hormonal and just felt a bit shit, she started to cry.
“I’m fed up Steve.” She sniffled. “I’m fat, I had to get Natasha to shave my legs yesterday, I can’t see my feet, I need to pee all the time and…”
“Sweetheart,” he chuckled, softly looking down at her, taking his face in her hands, “first off, you’re not fat, you’re pregnant. Very pregnant. With our baby.”
“I know but,” she continued to cry, “I just…”
Whatever it was that she just, Steve never found out as she simply sniffed again and moved so that her head was lay across his lap over the covers of their California king, and he gently stroked her hair. And for a moment he thought he’d managed to sooth her until she gave another groan.
“For fucks sake, I just can’t get comfy.” She sniffled, her sobs coming again as she sat up. “My back and my shoulders…”
Okay, this he could try and help with. Smiling to himself he looked at her. “Assume the position, Doll.”
She gave out a watery laugh as she heaved herself over so she was facing away from him. Steve shuffled down so that he was led right behind her and doing the one thing he could to try and get her to feel a little relaxed, he slid his strong hands up her top, his deft fingers gently massaging and rubbing at the spot he knew was sor in her lower back.
“You still feeling funny?” He asked, his fingers working the tight and aching muscles and she nodded.
“Have been all day, but it’s not uncommon apparently. Pepper said she felt iffy for the last four weeks of her pregnancy.”
“Four weeks.” Steve mused, his fingers stopping momentarily before he started again. “As if he’s gonna be here in four weeks.”
“Well, it could be any time technically. And I hope it is, because frankly, I can’t wait to get him out.” She sighed, as Steve’s hands gently guided her top, well his shirt, over her head so his hands could work at her shoulders and her upper back.
“Hmmm,” he gently swept her hair off her neck so he could plant a soft kiss there. “I can’t wait but I’m gonna miss your bump.”
“I’m not,” she scoffed, as his hands crept round to cradle her distended stomach, “and stop feeling him and carry on. Until he’s here this is all about me, remember.” She shrugged her shoulders, emphasizing her message, and he chuckled. “Sorry doll.”
Relaxing into his touch, Katie felt herself leaning back against him and then Steve made the best suggestion he had ever made to her in the history of suggestions.
“Why don’t I run you a bath? I know it’s late but Emmy’s at Brooke’s for the evening and it might help.”
Katie groaned “God, yes.”
He kissed the back of her neck and threw back the covers, climbing out of the bed, not an inch of tiredness displayed in his body. Despite herself, Katie had to bite back a laugh. He was like a coiled spring at the moment. He had told Rhodey a few weeks ago that he wasn’t travelling anywhere now until the baby was here for fear of missing anything, but as a result that relentless energy which normally went into his work was bubbling inside him, and even his runs every morning and night were doing nothing to help.
Laying back she closed her eyes until she heard him calling and she heaved herself up, taking a moment to steady herself before she rather ungraciously waddled out of the room, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other clamped under the bottom of her bump.
“Give me a hand when you need me to lift you out.” Steve chuckled as he passed her on the hallway and she spun round, glaring at him. “Like last time.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, but it will give me the chance to eye up your naked pregnant body, something I intend to make the most of as it won’t be around for much longer.”
“You’re a piece of work, Steven Grant Rogers.” She huffed, as she turned and headed to the bathroom.
Steve settled back on the bed and flicked on the TV. There wasn’t much on but in the end he logged into Netflix and settled for a few re-runs of ‘Brooklyn 99’. The show was absurd, but it was easy watching and he quite liked it, Jake Peralta reminded him in an odd way of a cross between Tony and Thor with his incessant energy and ridiculousness. About halfway through an episode, he was struck with another good idea, and he headed down into the kitchen to make them both a drink, cocoa for him and a ginger and honey tea for Katie. He carried the mug into the bathroom where his wife was slumped in the tub, surrounded by lavender and camomile bubbles, her eyes closed. She looked up at him, one eye open as he walked in, handing her the mug and she let out a soft groan.
“My hero.” She smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her lips before heading back into their room.
It was about another thirty minutes or so when she did call him. He knew she hated this, needing his help, but getting out of the huge tub on her own was simply a physical impossibility. Once he’d helped her out and she was wrapped in a robe, she dropped on the bed, seemingly pacified for a moment until she suddenly wanted peanut butter. Heading into the kitchen, he opened the cupboard and a cold feeling of dread washed over him when he realised they were out.
Fuck, fuck!
He was certain there had been three jars in there this morning. He frantically searched the rest of the kitchen, just in case Katie’s baby-brain had meant she’d stashed it somewhere else, but there as none to be found. Grimacing, he took the stairs two at a time and winced at the look on his wife’s face when he told her she must have eaten it all, before hastily placating her as her eyes watered, reminding her that the twenty-four hour mart was only a five minute drive away.
Which was why he found himself there at twenty-seven minutes past two on a Sunday morning buying six jars of the damned stuff.
Captain America, buying jars of peanut butter at half 2 in the morning for his wife.
Steve smiled to himself, he didn’t give a shit.
“Missus is Pregnant.” He nodded to the man behind the counter, who gave him a look of confusion as he dropped the jars onto the side by the till. The guy laughed, and nodded.
“It was chow-mein with my gal.” He chuckled as Steve handed over the cash. “That was a pain in the ass at four am on a Sunday. Trust me buddy, you got off lightly.”
Thanking his lucky stars that his wife’s craving was, indeed, relatively simple, Steve headed back home and she nearly cried when she took a jar off him and dug in with a spoon. They sat still for another hour, at which point Steve really was ready to fall asleep, and after eating half of a jar in one go, Katie screwed the top back on and set it back on her nightstand, her eyes drooping slightly.
“Think I’m okay now.” She nodded softly and Steve hummed into her hair, reaching up and turning the TV and lamp off and settling them down. She managed about half an hour before she groaned again and heaved herself off to the bathroom, this time for a pee. When she came back she lay facing him, her fingers gently tracing his jaw and he cracked one eye open and they just lay there, watching one another in the dim light.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“What for?”
“Keeping you awake.”
Steve chuckled and leaned forward to give her a soft kiss “Honey, it’s fine.”
And it was, it really was. He would be tired tomorrow, he knew that, but he didn’t care.
He closed his eyes and he was on the verge of sleep, teetering between dozing and being fully under when…
“Steve.” Katie whispered softly, and he grinned as he knew that suggestive tone way too well. “I’m horny, now.”
“You really know how to pick your moments, Mrs Rogers.” He sniggered a little, opening his eyes, as his mouth met hers again, the slight taste of the peanut butter made him smile even more as both his lips held her bottom one as the kiss lingered.
“Blame your son.” She murmured as she kissed him again, her hands creeping into the back of his hair, eliciting a soft moan from him.
And that was all it took.
Steve was obliging, and kissed every part of her body he could, taking care to avoid the rather tender chest area. It was slow, soft, as their bodies joined in the ever so familiar dance, tangled in the sheets of the bed. As his wife rode him, her large bump not allowing for any other position, Steve’s hands never left the side of her hips, the pair of them groaning loudly as her release took her over the edge and he followed shortly after. They lay there, gently on the bed together, Katie’s back pressed into his chest, for half an hour or so afterwards. Steve’s hand was strong yet gentle over her waist, his hand caressing the place his son was currently dwelling, thumb stroking her stretched skin in soft arcs. And when he felt her finally relaxed, he took a quick glance at the digital clock on the night stand, giving a slight roll of the eyes as he saw it was almost half four in the morning.
******
Katie woke later that morning at little after eight, trying not to groan at the now quite nasty pain in her back. She didn’t even try to go back to sleep, knowing it was utterly pointless. Instead, leaving Steve flat out, exhausted from the nights activities, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a peppermint tea and stuck a heat pack into the microwave, grabbing another jar of peanut butter.
The pains in her back and lower stomach continued to get progressively worse through the morning and along with them so did Katie’s mood. Emmy had called asking to stay at Brooke’s for a bit longer, which suited Steve as it meant he could give Katie his undivided attention, so he agreed and promised to collect her later in the evening.
As they both stood in the kitchen, Katie trying to decide what she wanted for lunch, eventually settling on meatball subs. They began to cook together, something to take Katie’s mind of feeling so uncomfortable, but as she turned to pass Steve the cheese so he could start loading the bread up, a searing pain flashed across her abdomen causing her to give a loud exclamation and clutch at the counter edge with one hand, dropping the packet of grated cheddar from the other.
“Katie?” Steve turned to face her, frowning “Sweetheart?”
She turned into him, curling her fists into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest, with a groan, her forehead digging into his collarbone. He gently held her back, supporting her as she breathed through the pain.
“I - mm.” Katie’s voice was trembling, a combination of fear and excitement. “I thought it was just cramps but now I think…”
Steve understood immediately. And despite all the classes, all the prep, everything, he suddenly felt really, really nervous “What? Now?”
She looked up into his eyes which were wide, in a combination of anticipation and trepidation and laughed. “I think so, yeah.”
Steve went straight into Captain mode. The maternity bag was loaded into the car, Dr Kellet was called who told them to monitor the contractions in frequency and duration, and a bath was run to try and make Katie more comfortable but it didn’t work.
Neither did a soft walk round the block with Lucky.
Four hours later, Katie was stood, bent over the back of the sofa as Steve rubbed her back, helping her breath through another contraction. They were now coming every thirteen minutes and getting far more painful (thanks to Steve’s impeccable time keeping skills for that one) when Katie noticed him step back slightly as she felt a dampness spread across her legs.
Her waters had gone.
“Baby, I think-“
“I know,” she grit her teeth as the pain subsided again. Steve was already on the phone to Dr Kellet and as he thanked her and placed the phone into his pocket he gently placed his hands on the side of his wife’s hips as she straightened up.
“She’s told us to go in.” A smile flickered on his face and despite the pain and stress she was feeling, Katie couldn’t help but find her heart swelling at the excitement on his face.
Steve called Tony, asking him to collect Emmy, then rang the girl herself who squealed with excitement at the fact her brother was on his way. A quick chat to Jennifer’s mum to explain, the woman wishing them both luck, and Katie was in the car and they were off, making quite possibly the most important journey of their lives. Steve drove carefully but determinedly to the Birthing Centre, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, casting glances at Katie every chance he got, and by the time they had arrived twenty minutes later the contractions were arriving five minutes apart.
He helped her change and got her settled in their airey room, his hand curling round hers as she lay back on the bed, both of them pleased to see the familiar face of Dr Kellet as she walked into the room just as another contraction hit Katie. Once it had subsided, Dr Kellet smiled moved to examine her.
“Yes, you’re in active labour Mrs Rogers.” The Doctor smiled. “You have a little while to go yet though so, we’ll try and get you a little more comfortable, okay?”
Katie nodded.
“And you still don’t want an epidural?”
“No.” She shook her head firmly, and Steve raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She’d been adamant that there were no needles going anywhere near her back, not after what HYDRA had done to her, which broke Steve a little when she’d said that to him, not only at the memory of what she’d been through, but also a the fact she was going to be giving birth with little relief.
Three hours later, however, Katie was seriously questioning her decision. She was on all fours on the bed, desperately trying to find some release that the gas and air wasn’t really providing anymore as Steve rubbed her back, feeling utterly helpless.
“I don’t like you-” Katie groaned, her voice cutting off as another wave of pain washed over me. “I don’t you seeing me like this. I don’t like it, you should go”
Go? Not a chance, Doll, he thought to himself as he glanced up at the midwife who simply smiled at him. He leant down so his lips were by Katie’s ear and she turned her head, burying it into his shoulder, as his arms supported hers. “Katie Marie Rogers, I have seen you throw tantrums that rival the ones a two year old could produce, I’ve seen you with a face full of blood and a broken nose, I’ve watched you crawl through a dirty hole in the floor to disarm a bomb, and come out trembling. I’ve seen you scream the house down after spotting a damned spider, I’ve seen you half dead,” the words caught in his throat at the memory, “I’ve seen you shit faced to the point of puking, not to mention that I’ve seen you in every single position going.”
Katie snorted loudly, before gripping at his arm as another wave crashed over her.
“None of that could ever make me love you any less. And, seeing you here now, about to give birth to our boy, well I couldn’t love you anymore if I tried. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
She looked up at him through her tears and he wiped at her face with his thumbs, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before she let out a gasp.
“I need, I need to push.” The panic tone in her voice made Steve glance up at the Doctor as Katie grabbed athis arm. “Steve, I…oh shit, I want to lay back, please, I need-“
“Okay, okay, I got you.” Steve assured her as the Doctor nodded at him to oblige. He gently helped her onto the back as Dr Kellet stood forward.
“You good?” She asked Katie who shot her a scathing look and Steve had to bite back the snort at the fact the Doctor merely raised an eyebrow whereas most people would be quaking in their boots at that infamous Stark glare. Instead, she merely smiled. “Let’s have a look.”
Katie grabbed Steve’s hand with a force he didn’t think possible, and it almost made him wince slightly, but he was damned if he was showing her that she was hurting him. As far as he was concerned, she could break every damned finger he had if it meant she was okay, that their son was okay.
“Yep, we’re in business.” The Doctor said, nodding to the midwife that was in the room. “Okay, Mrs Rogers, next time you feel ready to push I want you to do so gently, follow my lead, Steve is gonna help you with your breathing okay?”
And Steve tried, boy did he try. But after twenty minutes of pushing, Katie was pissed off, tired, in agony and just wanted it all to be over.
"You’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” He smiled gently, as he brought her hand up to his lips.
“You are NEVER touching me again.” She grit her teeth and he let out a chuckle, wiping her clammy forehead with one hand.
“Alright, Katie.” The midwife looked at her from the foot of the bed. “Next time, I want a big, strong one. He’s crowning. Chin into your chest…”
“Fuuuuuck…” Katie screamed, another contraction hitting her and she let out a yell, gripping Steve’s hand as she pushed with everything she had.
You’re doing amazing, Katie. Just one more.”
Steve dropped a kiss to her forehead, his heart was beating so loud he was sure she would hear it. “Come on, you got this, and I’ve got you, okay?”
Another yell, one final push and then…
A piercing scream hit their ears as Katie sagged back on the pillow panting before she looked up, relief crashing over her. Steve was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes wet as he looked at his wife, in awe at how simply amazing and strong she was.
“You did it.” His voice cracked as he kissed her head. “Oh, Baby Girl, you did it.”
“He’s here?” Katie asked, dazed slightly as their baby was placed straight onto her chest, where the buttons at the top of her gown were undone, and instantly the warmth she felt was like nothing she had ever experienced before, her chest filling as she held their baby boy tenderly, tears pouring down her face.
“Oh God.” Steve breathed, his voice cracking, as Jamie was covered with a towel, resting on his wife’s chest, his piercing cries subsiding at the skin to skin contact. Steve rest his head against Katie’s, wiping the tears that had pooled at the end of his nose away, and the pair of them looked down getting their first glimpse of their son.
“Hi, baby!” Katie finally managed to speak, looking down through her tears at the tiny bundle in her arms as his head lay against her chest, making little snuffling noises. “We waited so long for you!”
She finally tore her eyes off the precious bundle and looked up at Steve, his eyes swimming with tears of joy as her own continued to fall down her cheeks. "It’s our boy, Steve.”
“He’s perfect.” Steve whispered again and gently smoothed down the towel with a trembling hand so he could see their baby’s face clearly. Steve instantly noticed he small spattering of dark blonde hair on his head, and there was something distinctly Stark-like about his nose. Then his eyes barely opened, but through them he saw a sliver of beautiful baby blue.
The Soldier’s heart instantly swelled so full he thought it would bust from his chest. He already knew this, but as he looked down at his son, it simply solidified the fact that he would take on the world to protect that little bundle in his wife’s arms, shield or no shield.
They remained wrapped in their own little bubble so much so that neither of them knew what was going on around them. Eventually, their baby was gently taken to the opposite side of the room whilst Katie was cleaned up. He was weighed at 7lb 4, which was, given Steve’s size, rather small but still perfectly healthy. Steve couldn’t help but hover, watching what they were doing with his boy, wincing as they gave him a shot of vitamin K.
“Does he have a name?” The nurse recording his AGPA scores looked up. Steve looked at Katie and she nodded at him.
“James” Steve spoke, his voice croaky. “Jamie.”
“Alright.” The nurse scribbled something onto a band which was placed around his wrist before he was wrapped in a clean towel and the midwife looked up at Steve.
“Would you like to take him, Dad?”
Steve nodded, swallowing.“Yeah, yeah I would.”
“Okay, well if you’re comfortable doing so, open your shirt, he’ll appreciate the skin to skin contact…”
Steve did was he was told, undoing the four buttons on his dark green Henley and could do nothing but gasp as his son was laid in his arms, tears once more forming in his eyes as he cradled their child to his chest for the first time, awestruck as he brought his lips down to drop gently on his head.
“Hey, Pal.” He whispered unsteadily. “I’m your Dad.”
Katie watched the two of them, more tears springing into her eyes as Steve sat down on the chair next to the bed and she just watched the pair of them, Steve’s eyes not once leaving his boy, who Katie noticed was now trying to burrow into his chest face-first.
“What are you doing, lights too bright for you, Buddy?” He asked softly.
“It’s called rooting.” One of the nurses looked over “He’s wanting to feed. Are you ready to try Mrs Rogers?”
Katie nodded and sat up slightly, as Steve gently handed him over and the midwife helped Katie position him correctly. It took a while, but when he finally latched on and began to suckle, Katie looked down into her baby’s face, trying to memorize the way the tiny hand curled against her skin. Steve leaned close, simply watching, his heart full of a love like nothing he had ever felt before.
“You’re beautiful,” he told Katie suddenly, and she laughed a little, because it was anything but true at that moment in time.
“I think the serum is failing as your eyes are clearly not working properly.” She retorted, glancing up at him.
“I mean it,” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her temple. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And look what you made!”
She glanced down at Jamie, who was feeding enthusiastically and smiled. “What we made…”
“Yeah but you cooked him.” Steve’s finger slid under her chin so that she was looking back up at him, and he held her gaze, driving his words home. “Thank you.”
Katie leaned into his touch as his palm caressed her cheek. Carefully, he moved to sit on the bed beside her, guiding her head against his shoulder and gathering his family into very gentle embrace, his eyes not once leaving his baby.
"I love you,” he whispered into her hair - and he didn’t budge from that spot until Jamie was done nursing and Katie was then escorted to the toilet. In there she changed out of the gown and into a pair of pyjamas and returned from the en-suite of their private room, with a tired smile on her face to see that Steve, had dug out a baby grow. Katie watched as he placed their son in the cot by the end of the bed, with infinite tenderness, and the new parents dressed him for the first time.
“I suggest you both get some sleep whilst you can.” Dr Kellet smiled, peering into the cot where Jamie was now yawning, eyes drooping. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. If you need anything though, just hit the call button and one of the Midwives will come in. Congratulations.”
Steve and Katie both thanked her as Katie headed over to the bed, dropping exhaustedly onto it.
“You should go get some rest.” She yawned and Steve shook his head.
“I’m not leaving you.” Steve snapped a quick photo of the sleeping baby before settling on the bed as Katie lay her head on his chest. “Not a chance.”
It wasn’t long before she had fallen asleep, exhausted, and Steve sat up slightly, firing the photo off to Tony, Emmy, Nat and Rhodey. The replies of congratulations flooded in, along with a selfie of Tony, Pepper and Emmy on Tony’s sofa with their thumbs up. Steve snorted, it was almost two am now, but he knew that Tony and Emmy would be too excited to sleep. He placed his phone back on the night stand and settled down next to his wife, his hand straying into her hair. A little sniffling noise came from the cot at the side of the bed and Steve sat up, to check on him, but Jamie was sleeping soundly so he relaxed back, taking a deep breath.
He was in way over his head, and there was no planning for this mission, not one bit. But Steve found he didn’t mind. As he dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, he closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh knowing full well that the 7th March 2020 was a date he was never going to forget.
****
Katie opened her eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room which was lowly lit from a chink of light flooding in under the door. She sat up so quickly that her head spun, and she dropped back against the pillow, taking a deep breath. Then her eyes caught the man in the chair by her bed, and the memory of the night before came back. At some point in the night Jamie had woken for a feed but post it wouldn’t stop fussing and Katie’s half-conscious attempts to soothe him had failed. Steve had at that point stepped in and taken him, insisting that she get some rest as he paced the room with his son, gently rocking him to and fro. Her husband was now leaned back in the chair by her bed fast asleep, their little boy slumbering on his dad’s chest, secured by Steve’s large, gentle hands. Katie felt her heart swell and she grabbed her phone, noting that the time was only a little after 6:30 am, meaning that it was only two hours or so since his feed. She took a quick snap, contemplated taking Jamie back to his crib before she decided he was fine where he was. Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Glancing at her two boys, she sank deeper into her pillow, quietly satisfied, as she drifted back off into a light sleep.
Steve was woken by a soft cry about forty-five minutes later, and despite his best attempts Jamie wouldn’t settle.
“Sorry, Doll.” he looked at Katie as she woke, blinking as she pushed herself up. “I think he’s hungry and I can’t help him in that department.”
With a smile she took their baby and began to nurse him again, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing. Once he was fed, the midwives appeared and offered them breakfast which they gratefully accepted and then Katie positively moaned when she was told she could shower. She was dried off an and in a clean set of Pyjamas just in time for visiting hours which started at ten.
At one minute past there was a knock on the door to their room.
“Hey Mommy and Daddy!” Pepper peering round the door clutching a huge blue balloon as Tony followed, Morgan in her stroller. The tot squealed when she saw Steve who stood up to greet them as Emmy flew into the room, locking her arms around Steve’s waist. He dropped a kiss to her head and looked up as Natasha stepped in hot on their tail.
”Congratulations Cap.” Tony beamed, shaking Steve’s hand before he pulled him into an embrace. Katie smiled up at her family, Jamie clutched in her arms having just been fed again as Tony moved and stepped up to the bed, kissing the top of his sister’s head as he peered down at his nephew.
“Well done, Kiddo.” he whispered softly and she smiled at him.
Pepper was next to congratulate her, then Natasha and finally Emmy who gave her brother an appraising look.
“Hmmm takes after you, Dad.” She smirked up at Steve. “Where else is he gonna get a face like that?”
Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up from where he had been crouched saying hello to Morgan. He glanced at Tony who was peering down at his nephew, a huge grin on his face.
“He’s beautiful, guys.” Tony said and Katie smiled up at her brother and he made a gesture with his arms. “Can I?”
Katie nodded, and moved to gently pass him over, and Tony took him in his arms with a soft chuckle.
“Hey, Champ.” He beamed down as Jamie moved softly in his arms, kicking slightly. “How’s it going?”
“How are you feeling?” Pepper asked, looking at Katie.
“Tired but, I’m good.”
“So, does he have a name yet?” Tony looked at Katie and Steve took a deep breath, his arms crossing over his chest. If truth be told, he was a little nervous about revealing the name they had chosen, Bucky wasn’t Tony’s favourite person, but before he could answer he spotted Katie giving Emmy a small wink.
“Horatio Montgomery Rogers.” Katie nodded. “Monty for short.”
There was a pause whilst Pepper, Tony and Nat all exchanged a look and Steve bit on his lip.
“That’s…” Tony began, searching for words as he glanced down at the baby in his arms before he finally settled on, “…unusual”
Emmy looked at Katie again before they but out laughing.
“I can’t believe you fell for that, Uncle Tony!” Emmy cackled. “Such an idiot.”
“I resent that.” Tony pouted and Natasha cleared her throat.
“So what is his name?” Nat pressed. Katie looked at Steve and gave him a nod.
“James Anthony Samuel Rogers” Steve took a deep breath as Tony blinked. “Jamie for short.”
“James Anthony Samuel.” Tony whispered looking down at Jamie. “James. Anthony?” His eyes locked onto Katie’s, then Steve’s, before they flicked back down to his nephew. “You actually named him after me?”
Katie smiled. “Yeah, guess we did”
“And I was only joking too.” His voice choked as Natasha, stepped forward to peer down at the baby in his arms.
“But the James is after Barnes, right?” She looked up.
Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flickered to Tony who was simply gazing down at his nephew with adoration as Katie answered.
“There’s so many people we’ve both known or know with the name James.” She shrugged. “Rhodey, half the Howling Commandos, but yes, Bucky was one big reason, another was Grandad Jim.”
Tony looked up at her, smiling, his eyes wet. “Yeah, Grandpa Jim was pretty awesome”
“And so is his uncle-slash-grandpa.” She smiled and Tony gave a loud sniffle.
“Wrap it up Kiddo, you’re killing me” He shook his head as he turned to Natasha. “We’ll call that one a draw.”
Steve rolled his eyes, as Natasha shrugged. “Suppose you can’t be wrong all the time, Shell-Head.”
Jamie was passed around, and Emmy finally got to have a hold as she sat in the chair, Steve crouched by her side as she peered down at the baby. But when it was Natasha’s turn, the red head grew almost as emotional as Tony as she held him and he curled his tiny hand around her finger.
“Good job he likes you.” Katie smiled at her, “you know, seeing as you’re gonna be his god-mother and all…”
“Me?” Nat’s head whipped up and she looked at Katie, then Steve, her eyes full of tears. “I mean…”
“Well, there’s no one else for the job so it kinda falls to you by default.” Steve teased from where he was perched on the arm of the chair.
“You’re such a douche.” Emmy muttered, elbowing Steve in the ribs and Tony’s face split into a grin.
“Kid, you have no idea…did you know his nickname is Spangles?”
“Spangles?” she grinned and Steve groaned
“No one calls him Spangles other than Tony, because Tony is an idiot.” Katie shook her head.
At that point, Jamie let out a huge shriek and Natasha promptly crossed the room to hand him back to his momma, who placed him over her shoulder and he nuzzled into her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw line. As she looked around the room, her eyes locked onto Steve’s and he gave her, quite possibly, the most affectionate look she could ever recall him giving her. And at that moment, although they were surrounded by their friends and family, she felt like the only woman in the world.
*****
Thankfully as everything had gone as well as expected they were discharged later that day and they could go home. Steve, having practiced about a billion times, expertly clipped Jamie’s car seat into the base of the Porche SUV they had borrowed from Tony a few weeks ago (the Camero just wasn’t baby friendly) and Katie climbed into the back, positioning herself in the middle seat so she was by their son for the drive home.
Emmy had gone back to Tony’s to give them the evening to settle in, and with Lucky also with them, when Katie and Steve walked into the house, Steve carefully carrying the car seat containing the most precious cargo he had ever carried, it struck them that they were suddenly on their own.
With a baby.
Steve set the car seat on the coffee table in the lounge and the two of them sat on the couch, looking at their baby before they looked at one another, neither of them having a clue what to do next.
Thankfully, a piercing scream from Jamie jolted them out of the stupor and dictated exactly what they needed to do. As Katie set about feeding him, Steve headed into the kitchen to make them something to eat and by eight pm the pair of them were whacked and ready for bed but Jamie had other ideas. It took a lot of pacing, frustrated sighs and prayers but he finally settled a few hours later and the new parents crawled between their sheets, exhausted, frustrated and feeling like they were embarking on a mission which was far bigger than any they had faced before.
*****
Steve heard his wife get up, but didn’t register why. Not at first. He dozed for another half hour or so before he heard a cry and he sat upright, looking around. He blinked, saw the empty crib at the side of the bed and smiled to himself. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed the bag he’d had waiting for weeks out of the back of his closet before he headed down the stairs.
Katie was sat on the sofa in one of his button downs, her bare legs crossed, munching on a piece of toast when he paused in the door to the lounge taking in the scene. The domesticity of it all hit him for a moment and he felt himself welling up, he’d never in his wildest dreams dared to imagine he would ever be this damned lucky. But here he was, gorgeous wife, beautiful baby…
At that point, Jamie started fussing and she instantly placed her hand on his tummy whilst he lay in the wicker Moses basket in front of her, gently hushing him, all the while a look on her face of infinite tenderness. As he settled she smiled, simply gazing at their boy for a moment before she looked up and smiled at Steve. He walked over to her and dropped a soft, lingering kiss to her lips and she smiled.
“Morning.” She whispered and he smiled against her mouth, kissing her again before his attention turned to his boy and he gently reached into the basket, his finger softly running down his son’s cheek.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Could you feed him?” Katie grinned and Steve let out a soft laugh and shook his head.
“No, suppose not.” He looked at Katie and nodded to Jamie “Can I?”
“Steve, honey, he’s your son. Of course you can.”
He placed the bag he was holding on the coffee table, Katie still not noticing it, as he reached into the basket and gently picked his son up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie buried his face into his neck, still sleeping. Steve gently moved to sit on the couch and Katie watched the pair of them, smiling softly.
“That’s for you.” He nodded to the Tiffany bag. Katie glanced at, blinking in surprise before she frowned slightly.
“What for?”
“Well it used to be a tradition to buy your wife something after your first child and Tony assured me it still was so…”
She beamed at him and reached over for the bag. As Steve cradled his boy close he watched his wife pull out the blue ring box and open it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the platinum Eternity band which was studded with sapphires and diamonds.
“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, turning to him and leaning over to give him a soft kiss. “Thank you.”
Steve beamed at her and watched as she rejigged the rings on her wedding finger so she could place it in between her wedding and her engagement ring. She flashed her hand at him to show him what it looked like on.
“Looks good.” He smiled “I clearly have good taste.”
“Of course you do, you chose me.”
****
“Come here.”
Steve turned to look at Katie who was on the other side of their bedroom and he frowned. “What?”
“Just come here.”
Steve crossed the room towards her where she grabbed the bottle of his aftershave and sprayed an amount to his neck.
“What are you…” he frowned as she stood up to take a deep sniff.
“Oh thank God!” She groaned. “I can sniff you again without feeling sick!”
Steve snorted, and shook his head, a grin on his face as Katie began to spray the Hugo Boss around the room, sniffing and smiling to herself before she stopped and grimaced.
“Oh, that’s…” She looked down at the crib and Steve did the same.
“Oh.” Steve wrinkled his nose
“Your turn, Daddy.” She patted his back. “I’m going for a shower.”
Steve looked at her, slightly panicked as Jamie began to let out a soft cry “What, alone?”
“Don’t tell me Captain American can’t deal with a bit of poop.”
“It’s not that. I might do it wrong or…”
“Steve, relax, what’s the worst that can happen?” She eyed him, as he bit his lip, watching his reaction carefully. Whilst he had been amazing that night in the hospital, once they had gotten home and away from the safety net of midwives, she had fast realised that Steve had suddenly grown incredibly nervous when it came to their baby, asking permission to pick him up, wind him, cuddle him and Katie was keen to nip that in the bud right away. She knew he wanted to help as much as possible and she didn’t want him to constantly be second guessing everything he did.
“I err…” Steve stuttered and she cut him off.
“You saw me before.” She shrugged, heading into the en-suite. “You’ll be fine.”
Steve watched her go and then peered down at his son, swallowing slightly before he picked him up and took him into the nursery. As soon as the baby-grow was off, Jamie still crying slightly, Steve suddenly felt completely inadequate. Cursing to himself, he laid Jamie gently on the changing mat, wrinkling his nose and trying to shut out the scream that was ringing round his ears. At that point he was seriously starting to believe that this was worse than facing off against thirty HYDRA agents single headedly. Taking a deep breath and telling himself to get it together, he managed to clean Jamie, get a fresh diaper on, and then once he was dressed again, he picked the baby up.
“Come on, Pall.” He soothed softly, his large hand gently smoothing his son’s back as he walked over to look out of the bedroom window “You know, that there is the best city in the world,” he glanced over the Brooklyn skyline, “one day I’ll show you all the places I used to go, tell you all about my life and the Rogers clan, and who you’re named after. Take you to meet your Grandma…”
He stopped talking as he realised Jamie had fallen silent, and was now relaxed completely against him, his face gently pressed against his shoulder. “Thass ma boy.” He whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. He turned to see Katie was stood in the doorway, her hair damp as she was wrapped in a towel gown.
“See.” she smiled as she crossed the room towards them both. “I told you it would be okay.” She gently smoothed a hand over the baby boy’s head before dropping a kiss to his crown.
“Should I put him down to sleep now?” Steve asked and Katie looked at him.
“Do you want to put him down?”
“Not really.” Steve admitted, with a little smile.
“You gonna drop him?”
“Shut up.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then no, you don’t have to put him down.” Katie smiled “He’s your baby, Steve. If you wanna cuddle him, cuddle him.”
“Sorry, I’m fussing again ain’t I?” Steve sighed.
Katie gently stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips. “Fussing is fine, just don’t doubt yourself. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do, but we’ll figure it out.”
Steve smiled, as he gave her a soft kiss. “I still swear you can read minds.”
“No, I can just read you.” She corrected. “Now, before you go get Emmy, can I leave you whilst I take a quick nap? He’s gonna want a feed soon and I’m so tired. ”
Steve looked at his wife, then to his son who was perfectly content, his little nose and mouth now resting firmly against Steve’s collar bone. He smiled back at Katie and gave her another soft kiss.
“Think we’ll be okay.”
****
Chapter 45
**Original Posting**
#stark spangled banner#steve rogers#Katie Stark#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x original female character#mcu#mcu fanfic#chris evans#chris evans characters
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“Fragments” Thoughts:
I already know this episode is going to give me psychic damage because it starts with Greg and Bismuth looking woefully at the damaged van before the camera pans out to Steven staring depressively from the porch.
ARGH, PEARL BLAMING STEVEN FLR THE WRECK. I MEAN, YEAH, IT WAS TECHNICALLY HIS FAULT, BUT ALSO, PEARL, HE IS OBVIOUSLY TRAUMATIZED AND IN NEED OF HELP??? LIKE????????????
This is the worst take from Pearl I’ve heard in a long ass time, lmao. (But okay, I actually don’t think it’s the take itself but the accusatory tone. It’s not what Steven needs rn.)
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Oh, God. Steven slows the Gems down so they can’t catch up to him. 😭😭
“So... what you’re saying is that you’re here for a REMATCH.” JEIDODJSJSJSSJSJSJS. JASPER, I LOVE YOU.
Oh, my go d. The background of the sky after Jasper and Steven leave the cave. That is absolutely gorgeous.
Jasper openly admitting that she channels her anger and power into her fists is honestly pretty emotionally vulnerable. It contextualizes all her fighting; she’s angry all the time.
Oh, noooooooo. Don’t take advice from Jasper, Steven. Idoesjjsdjjdns, she has the emotional processing skills of a spoon.
Steven immediately kissing the tree he just punched is so good. I love this boy.
JASPER ATTACKING THE GRASS AGAIN DJDIDIEODODODODDIIDDIDIDIDIDIDJDJ.
She’s literally just a big ass cat who lives in a cave. A Warrior Cat if you would.
Haha, I’ll see myself out.
“Quit helping the local ecosystem recover!” KWOEODDJNDJDJSJS
Jasper harshly throwing Steven to the ground takes me straight back to what we learned from “Growing Pains.” 😭 God, if this boy gets so much as a scraped knee anymore, I’ll be thinking about that episode in hindsight.
Jasper goading Steven into fighting... this is a dangerous game. All her opponents (who haven’t been fusions) have largely been weaker in her. This is her literally going up the equivalent of a powerful god. And when your modus operandi is to fight and fight and fight without caring who you hurt or if you get hurt, well, those are the only two logical consequences that remain.
“Lesson One: Stop smiling!” WJDIDIDIIDDIJDJD.
“But I’ve seen you smile?” EJEIXIDX, OH NO SHE FUCKING JUST KICKS HIM. Priyanka Maheswaran’s voice is just going to play in my head now every time Steven is roughly handled like Professor Oak telling me that there’s a time and place for riding my bike but now now.
OH, THE RISING SUN BACKGROUND. THE CREWNIVERSE IS POPPING OFF THIS EPISODE.
Training montage!!
GOD, JASPER’S JUST ENGAGING WITH HIM SO VIOLENTLY. I CAN’T.
DROPPING HUGE ASS ROCKS ON HIM.
JAJDJDJS, Jasper kicking him out of the cave during the night.
The boy builds himself a little lean-to!!!
OH, the slow-mo of Jasper using her Sonic power while Steven nyooms past her is so good.
ARGH, Steven’s been out here so long that he’s growing stubble. He’s genuinely just up and disappeared for days.
BUFF FUCKING STEVEN?????????????
JOCK S T EVNE?
I CAN’T COMPUTE
OH, MY GOD IT’S JUST BEEN THREE DAYS.
Jasper being low key proud of the little asshole she’s making, lmaoooooo
Steven kissing his muscles KEIDJSJSJS. “I didn’t teach you that.”
Ugh, omg, and even the thunderstorm backdrop is gorgeous. Wow.
“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a good rock around here.” AWiekdidjdjejsjsijsj
The shot of Jasper’s hair blowing before she smirks a little to herself is really beautiful. 😭
Steven sustaining a direct blow to the head from Jasper’s helmet reminds me of that other time he sustained a direct blow to the head from Jasper’s helmet. 😭😭
Steven laughing maniacally as he gains the upper hand in battle is so distressing on, like, so many fucking levels 😭
“I’ve sent so many messages, but he hasn’t replied.” :((
“Steven! Where have you been?” / “We’ve looked everywhere for you.” It’s the cracks in both of their voices that undo me. 😭
I WAS SPOILED ON THE FACT THAT HE SHATTERED HER, BUT MY GOD, THE SIGHT OF HER SHARDS IN HIS PALM IS VISCERAL.
GO D.
“Jasper, I’m sorry... please, come back.”
JASPER FUCKING BOWING TO HIM
“MY DIAMOND.”
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FU
I’m unwell.
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If I Only Had a Heart - a Denny Duquette story
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Shonda Rhimes and I may have thrown in a few lines from Grey’s Anatomy, which again, are all Shonda’s! This was inspired by my own real life job as a barista at a hospital and seeing the coffee cart on Grey’s. Hope y’all enjoy the fluffy goodness!
I stroke my boyfriend’s hair and kiss his forehead. His eyelids were heavy and the monitor beeped rhythmically. It was the first time since before being diagnosed that his heart was beating properly. I run my fingers over his stubbly cheek.
“You’re done, Denny. You’re done. You’ve got a new heart, baby,” I rub his hand, tears welling up in my eyes. Denny grimaces in his deep slumber. A large tube was jammed down his throat. I had just sat through the longest eight hours of my life, all I wanted was to hear Denny say, “I love you.”
“He did amazing, Mrs. Duquette,” Dr. Stevens stands in the doorway, massaging hand sanitizer into her hands.
“Why do you have to eating that when I’m NPO?” Denny teases.
“Mmm. Lo mein and honey walnut shrimp,” I wave the chopsticks in his face.
“Get fucked,” my boyfriend laughs.
“Language, Dennison,” Dr. Burke smiles as he places his stethoscope on my boyfriend’s hairy chest.
“Uh oh, full name. Look’s like Dad’s mad at me! Will you hand me my bag, doll face?” I grab Denny’s black backpack. “Let me see, let me see. Where did I put it?”
“What are looking for?” Denny ignores me, continuing to rifle through his belongings. “Ah,” he smiles at me, “There it is.” He drops his bag to the side of the bed and opens a small velvet box.
“What is that? Denny Duquette, you’ve done lost your ever loving mind!” I imitate his vaguely southern twang. He laughs heartily.
“You sound like my mother.”
“You’re crazy,” I kiss his ice cold lips.
“Crazy for you. Will you marry me?” Denny sighs, wheezing slightly, he always got short of breath when he was emotional. He gasps for air as a single tear falls from his eyelashes.
“Baby, breathe,” I giggle, cupping his cheek in my hand, “Of course I’ll marry you!”
“Hey, he’s okay!” Dr. Stevens rubs my shoulder. “I know all the equipment hooked up to him looks really scary, but it’s to monitor his condition. He doesn’t need machines to be kept alive anymore,” the gorgeous blonde woman smiles reassuringly.
“No more battery packs?” I grin through the tears.
“No more battery packs. He’ll wake up here in the next few hours. The restraints are so he doesn’t freak out and try to pull his breathing tube out, which will come out this time tomorrow. He’ll be in the ICU for the next week, and then we’ll transfer him to the cardiac treatment unit. Here, I have something for you. Well, it’s really for Denny’s recovery,” Dr. Stevens hands me a heart shaped pillow with a permanent marker for me to sign. “It helps with the pain from the incision and his sternum being cracked. Coughing or sneezing can feel like breaking a bone.” I wince at the thought and open the marker.
“My darling Denny, I love you more than words can explain. I can’t wait to call you my ‘husband’ when you get out of here. You’re mine, baby. Forever and ever.”
***
Denny opened the door to our cozy, one bedroom apartment.
“Home at last! Thank GOD!” he smiles, “It sure smells like home,” he inhales the sweet aroma of candles and a savory roast I had made in the slow cooker to welcome him home after a full month of recovering at Seattle Grace. He wraps his arms around me. I tilt my head up and kiss my boyfriend.
“I forgot how tall you are,” I smile.
“I know,” he whispers and strokes my hair. I run my fingers over the long, healing scar on his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned slightly to allow his skin to breathe after being bandaged for so long. He rocks me back and forth. I begin to shed a few tears. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”
“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” I cry into his flannel shirt.
“Do what, baby? What’s wrong? I’m okay now!” Denny chuckles and kisses my forehead.
“Scare the shit out of me. I thought I was going to lose you,” I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks.
“I know, honey. I was scared too. Every single day, I was wondering if this would be the day I close my eyes and don’t wake up. You know how much I hate hospitals.”
“I know you do. I can’t imagine my life without you, honey.”
“And I feel the same. Heaven would be nice, but I wouldn’t be able to take you with me. But it’s over now. I have a new lease on life. I get to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you,” Denny squeezes me close.
“I love you, Denny.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” a coy smile crosses his lips. I kiss him, tugging at his soft brunette locks.
“Yeah?”
“Dr. Burke cleared me for physical activity,” he raises his eyebrows with his signature charming smirk that made me fall head over heels that fateful day in the Seattle Grace coffee shop.
“Hello there,” a gravelly voice speaks up. I glance up from my morning temperature logs and stock lists. “Are you open?” A tall, insanely handsome, dark haired man stands before me. A warm smile graces his tanned face. He has two black straps affixed to his chest over his slim fitted t shirt.
“Of course! I mean, yes, hi!” I stammer over my words, making a fool of myself in front of. My face reddens as I grab a marker.
“Hi!” he chuckles, matching my goofy tone. I can hardly think straight.
“What can I get for you?” I ask politely.
“I’ve never been here before actually. Nice place you’ve got-“
“Hey Denny!” Dr. Burke pops up behind the man.
“Hey, Dr. Burke! You caught me, I needed a little pick me up,” the man now named Denny winked at me.
“No judgment here, sir. Contrary to popular belief, people with heart failure CAN drink caffeine,” he holds up two slender fingers, “Just two shots of espresso with a Splenda, please.”
“You get your coffee, it’s on me today,” Denny says. Dr. Burke’s pager beeps loudly.
“That’s very kind of you!” he glances at the pager. “Gotta run! See you next month!” the doctor chugs the shots quickly and tosses the cup in the trash.
“Now, where were we?” Denny says. “Oh yeah, I’m Denny, you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me in the coming months because my heart is failing me,” he jokes.
“Hi Denny! I’m (name). It’s nice to meet you! You said your heart is failing you, hm?” I’m glad it wasn’t too busy, because I wanted to look into those hazel eyes for hours.
“Sure is. See these straps? They’re attached to a battery pack running this ol’ ticker. I used to be a ranch hand before I became a weak, sick bastard. Anyway, sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story.”
“Don’t apologize,” I grin. “I hear people’s stories all the time at this job. Kind of comes with working in a hospital, I guess,” I shrug, “What sounds good today, hon?”
“‘Hon’? Oh my, I didn’t know we were on that level yet! I’ve never been here before actually. What do you recommend?”
“Well, I’m pretty simple. This time of year, I really like a dark roast with some cream and a smidge of peppermint. But when I’m feeling like treating myself, I love a white mocha, iced with no whipped cream is my personal preference.” Denny cocks an eyebrow. Warmth gathers between my thighs.
“What if I did an iced white mocha with peppermint? That sounds like a candy cane in a cup! Let’s do a large, because why not?”
“Alright, so with Dr. Burke’s order, your total is $6.17. I gave you an employee discount, because I do what I want,” I tease.
“Hell yeah you do. Here, sweet girl. Keep the change,” he hands me a $20. I whipped around and begin preparing his beverage. Denny bit his lower lip as he looked me up and down. I grabbed the marker with a smirk and did something I’ve always wanted to do.
“There you go! I hope you enjoy that!” his hand grazes mine as he grabs the cup. He shoves a straw in and takes a sip.
“Wow, that’s tasty! What’s this? 406- Oh, you sly dog. I guess I’ll text you later, pretty little thing,” he blows me a kiss. I have a feeling this man and I are going to get along swimmingly.
“Did he now?” Denny begins sucking my neck and moaning in my ear. A shiver courses through my body as he cups my breasts in his massive hands. I missed my boyfriend’s touch. “Mmm, babe. Your hands are warm.”
“I forgot what it feels like to have a normal body temperature,” Denny chuckles, “Oh man, my blood’s pumpin’ in the right direction now, that’s for sure,” he gestures downwards. “Now, go put on that outfit that Daddy loves so much,” he gives my backside a light squeeze and I scamper to the bedroom. I slip out of my sweatpants and my boyfriend’s t-shirt. The smell of his cologne lingered on the fabric, giving me comfort on those nights I had to sleep alone. I put on Denny’s favorite crimson and black teddy and add a quick spritz of perfume.
“Alright, baby. I’m ready,” I call out to the living room. Denny kicks off his boots and ambled into the bedroom with a wide smile.
“Baby doll,” Denny clicks his tongue.
“You like?”
“Oh god,” he clutches his chest, “You’re going to make Daddy’s heart stop and it’s brand new,” he laughs. He pulls me down onto the bed with him and kisses me all over.
“I love you,” I moan.
“And I love you, Mrs. Duquette.”
***
“Oh baby! Oh god, baby girl, Daddy loves you so much,” Denny rasps.
“Oh Daddy, yes! Mmm, Denny, I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so long,” I whine. Denny digs his fingernails into my hips as his eyes roll back. He finishes inside me.
“You feel too damn good,” he moans against my neck. “I didn’t last very long,” he chuckles. I smile and trace my hand over his abdomen as I breathe heavily, my whole lower body pulsating with pleasure. Denny pulls out gently and lays next to me. He wraps his strong arms around me.
“It’s so nice to feel your heart race and it’s not atrial fibrillation!” I giggle excitedly.
“Say it again,” Denny smirks.
“Fibrillation,” I dance my fingers over his scar.
“You sure sound sexy when you talk medical to me.” I bury my face in his lush chest hair.
“I never want to let you go,” my voice is barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have to. You’re going to be my wife remember?” he kisses my forehead and pets my hair.
“I absolutely cannot wait.” Denny rubs my engagement ring sweetly.
@iluvneganandjamie @negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes
#denny duquette#fanfic#fanfiction#greys anatomy#jeffrey dean morgan#negan#the walking dead#john winchester#supernatural
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can i request an erik x reader fic where she joins his video games and whoops his ass so he thinks she’s cheating?
Cheater
Author’s Note: Been a while since I wrote some Erik but this little drabble fits into the FIRSTS SERIES, found in the Masterlist below!! Happy Reading! This was cute as hell.
Warnings: Language Light Smut
Pairings: College!Erik Stevens x Reader
Black Panther Masterlist
“Whatever T, you lost!” Erik said in the headset loud. He walked around the couch, talking as if his cousin was in front of him. He laughed and rolled his eyes. “whatever, you just mad cause I tapped that ass.”
You sat on the couch, lifting the spare controller. “What are you playing, and why are you so loud?”
Erik sat next to you, his leg barely touching yours and his hands on the controller. “You don’t know nothing about that.” He teased as he slid the controller off his head and smirked at you. “Don’t want to get your feelings hurt.”
“Excuse me?” You nearly cackled. You’d spent ample enough time watching him, and your brother play not to mention you played when you were younger. College had taken over, and between that and Erik, you had no time to do so.
He started the game. “Aight. Don’t cry to me when yo ass lose.”
“Tell you what.” You smirked and turned to him. You ran your fingers down the side of his face feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “If I win… you give me head.”
“And when I win? The confident grin surfaced his face. “I’m beating that ass up, Please Erik. No slow down, daddy whimpering and shit. You aint gone be able to walk.” He bit his lip in thought of what his plans were.
“Whatever E.”
The game went for an hour. Erik was decent, but your quick fingers lead you to victory, your avatar shoots the winning shot, and you jump up from the couch. “Hell yeah!!!!” You fist pump and then start your signature victory dance. Rolling your hips and shimmying.
“Hell no, you cheating.”
“I’m cheating?” You laughed. “You netter drop to your knees, Mr. Stevens, and let me see them lips work.”
“Nah.” He folded his arms over his chest, and his lips formed a small pout. “How you hit that shot?”
“Oh, my God.” You shook your head and turned to him. “You seriously out here mad as hell that your girlfriend.” You flourished your body. “Beat that ass.”
“Whatever.” Erik pulled you near him, placing your back on the leather sectional and spread your legs. “I’m only doing this because I’m a man of my word. “ He swiped his tongue over his full lips.
“You only doing this because you lost.” You jumped when his teeth sunk into your thigh, tugging at the stretchy fabric.
“Yo ass cheated.” He tugged your leggings and pants to your ankles and then leaned forward. He pushed his tongue, passed your lips, and then flicked it over your clit. “But, I forgive you this time.”
Your back bowed from the couch when his lips latched onto your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure when he sucked. “Oh fuck daddy.” You moaned as you threaded the dreads atop his head. Your body sunk into the sectional, and you relished the pleasure he gave you.
Taglist: @wakanda-inspired @misspooh @valynsia @vanitykocaine @harleycativy @jecourt @virgosapphire79n @sparklemichele @theunsweetenedtruth @ahhhhkeya @eriknutinthispoosy @iamrheaspeaks @thiccdaddy-mbaku @muse-of-mbaku @myboyfriendgiriboy @someareblindtoitsbeauty @brittyevans @almostpurelysmut @readsalot73 @ivarsshieldmadien @slimmiyagi @cinnabearice @royallyprincesslilly @hutchj @igetcarriedawaywithyou @madamslayyy @bartierbakarimobisson @killmongersaidheyauntie @hdkween
#erik killmonger#erik stevens#erik killmonger x reader#the black panther fandom#njadka#erik x you#erik killmonger imagine#laketa j writes
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In The Wind
Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader
TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst
Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)
A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!
You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.
You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.
But did you regret him? You weren’t sure.
The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself.
He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window.
He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun.
When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”
Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“
Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.
“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“
Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”
You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.
You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”
He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”
Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Are you hiding something?” He returned.
“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”
“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind.
“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”
“You tell me.”
He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.
“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”
He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.”
“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”
“Suing us?” He chuckled.
“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”
You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”
Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”
“Not at all.”
He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me help you.”
“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“Easy?”
“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”
You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”
Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost.
So he sat down.
When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.
“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.
“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”
He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”
“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.”
“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.
Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”
“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”
“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”
He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.
But not you.
He took the bottle with a small smile.
“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“My blood?” He chuckled.
You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”
The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t get caught.”
The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?
Captain America in the wind once more.
---
“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”
Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”
“Alright!”
Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.
“Your window is broken.”
You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”
“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”
“What’s it to you?”
“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”
“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”
He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”
You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”
Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”
You snorted, “Both.”
“Wow, two for one.”
“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”
Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon.
“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.
You laughed bitterly, “I know.”
As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”
But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.
He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.
“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”
You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”
Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”
He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”
You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”
“You don’t have to humor me.”
“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”
He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”
“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”
“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”
“As drunk as me?”
“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”
You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.
He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”
“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.
When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.
“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.
Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”
“What did you say?” You asked.
“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”
It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”
“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.
“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”
“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”
Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.
“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.
You smiled. “I will.”
“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”
“I get it, Steve.”
And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.
---
A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.
You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.
It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.
And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.
“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up.
Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.
As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other.
You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces.
“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”
He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”
And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”
You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”
He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
“You fixed your window.”
“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”
“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“
“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”
His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”
“Everything?”
You nodded.
You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen.
Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you.
A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless.
“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”
You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”
“Steve—“
“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”
You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”
“I think so.”
You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”
“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”
Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“I like you, too, dummy.”
---
Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only.
It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower.
But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up.
Plus, it was the day before his birthday.
You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday.
So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him.
And received no answer.
You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery.
You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.
Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.
The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”
“Crazy, right?”
“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”
“Yeah, to do the right thing.”
“How do we know he was right, though?”
You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.
The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.
“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”
You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”
Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”
You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”
“What would you like on it?”
“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”
The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”
You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”
Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.
“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat.
“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.
“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”
“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”
Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”
“‘Cause somebody called you.”
“What?”
“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”
His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”
Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”
“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”
“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“
“Then, I have a week.”
“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”
Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.
Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”
Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”
“Natasha.” He smiled softly.
“Where can I drop you off?”
“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”
She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”
You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table.
Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.
“Steve!”
You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”
“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”
“You called me on the burner.”
Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“
“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.
“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”
“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.
“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“
“My birthday?”
You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”
“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”
“You got a cake?”
You gasped, “The cake!”
You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”
You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”
“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”
“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”
He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say.
When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”
“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”
---
Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail.
At least, that’s what you thought.
It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Bucky asked.
“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”
“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”
Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”
You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.
Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.
It was Tony Stark.
He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.
“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”
“Does the camera add ten pounds?”
“It does something.”
“You flatter me.”
“I don’t.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”
“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.
“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”
You stood silent, glaring at him.
“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”
“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you.
“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”
You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—
“You had me tailed.”
“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”
You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.
A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.
You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”
“Show me later.”
You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”
“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.
“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”
You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”
You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.
“A camera?”
“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.
“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.
“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”
“I don’t care, Steve.”
“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”
It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad.
You both knew, but it was impossible to say.
“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”
“That way, no one will know except you and me.”
“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.
“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.
“Shut up and take the picture.”
Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.
“Where is he, Y/N?”
“Screw you.”
“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”
You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”
“Y/N—”
“Get out of my house. Now.”
Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.
Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.
When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”
Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.
Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.
You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”
“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”
Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”
“There’s no need.”
When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”
“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”
“That’s an even worse plan.”
“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”
“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”
“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”
Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”
“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”
“You think I’d hurt her?”
“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”
“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”
“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”
Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.
It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.
“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.
Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”
Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.
In the wind once more.
---
Screw him.
After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.
And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy.
Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.
He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.
He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.
The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.
So yeah, screw him.
How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.
Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.
He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.
He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.
One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.
You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace.
Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.
You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.
He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp.
“Steve.”
His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could.
This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”
He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“
“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”
The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.
And he couldn’t. Didn’t.
So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.
You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”
He sighed, “Y/N—”
“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”
“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”
“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”
“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”
“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”
“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”
“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”
“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”
“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”
“Y/N…”
“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”
“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.
“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”
“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”
“Steve—”
“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.
“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.
“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”
“Then tell me you don’t love me.”
His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”
“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”
“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.
“Say it.”
“Don’t.”
“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”
“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”
Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.
And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.
“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.
“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”
You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.
When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.
With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.
In the wind. For good.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x black!reader#captain america x reader#captain america x black!reader#steve x reader#steve x black!reader#marvel x reader#marvel x black!reader#captain america fanfiction#steve rogers fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers angst#angsty af#no one ever let me write a single fic this long ever again
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Call me Yours
So @helloitsvehere had to go ahead and this under one of my reblogs and even sent me a whole headcanon on the subject, so I had to go write this little thing.
Thank you for the idea Star, I love you so much and happy Valentine’s Day!
Summary: “I’ll write it on you next.”
“What you just did right there, is sacrilege of the highest form."
Ryan angles his head, leveling what he proudly deems his intimidating look at Shane sitting in the chair next to him.
They’re shooting Top 5 in Ryan’s living room, the spread of his kitchen behind him the most confusing mix of comfort and stress. Sure, they’ve spent hours and hours in this very spot discussing and planning and going crazy over this stupidly high-risk project, but up until a week ago when they really put down the cash to get the filming equipment, it all seemed as real as a dream.
Now, with the scorching lights and cameras trained on him in his place of residence, cloth thrown over the windows to block out the night, casting the room in a soft beige tint, Ryan thinks anything could happen.
Shane leans back with his board in his hands, the very sight of the scrawled name of the restaurant comfortably nestled in third place paining Ryan on both physical and spiritual levels. It is completely unacceptable. An abomination to humanity itself.
"I’ve never even heard of that place. Steven!” He gesticulates at Shane with his marker and calls out to Steven sitting just out of the frame, because he’s gotta get some sort of sane Californian opinion on this, no matter what Steven’s actual native state is. Ryan cannot be alone in this.
“Thank you!” He throws out a hand in a half salute when he receives–an albeit longsuffering– frown and shake of the head from Steven. But it was a vote in his direction.
“I like it, and that’s enough,” Shane smiles at him with his curvy eyes, waving a hand in a there-there gesture and Ryan can feel himself bristling. “Our opinions are different, isn’t that the whole point of this show?”
“The point,” Ryan says tightly, an accusing marker pointed at the offending name, “Is that you provide sensible reasons in support of those opinions.”
“I laid out a very well-made argument, you’re the one that shot it down."
"I did not,” Shane’s giving him that look that says you know you’re wrong, something he has had to endure for the past four years on Unsolved. And fine, maybe he is, but that’s not important. “It broke down on its own, it’s so little known you may as well have written your address on there to represent your mom’s cooking.”
“Watch it Bergara, my mother’s cooking is amazing."
"Well, you better write the Madej name down on that board there then.”
“I’ll write it on you next."
It’s a stupid comeback, really, like what a middle schooler would come up with. Ryan would have realized this, may even have commented on it, if only he could think at all.
Because there is just something about the way Shane leans in, voice pitched low and eyes narrowed with intent, his big hands curled around the edge of the modified whiteboards in a secure hold. Ryan shivers, he can’t help it, feeling heat rising high on his cheeks.
It’s barely been two months, and this thing they have between them is the best thing that has happened to Ryan by far, he’s sure.
It has just happened so fast, their first kiss, first date, first everything had been caught up in the whirlwind of setting up their own company, finally getting to create under their own names with no higher order than themselves. It is a lot, all this fresh freedom wrapped up in the new restraints they fight around every corner, but he’d be lying if it isn’t exhilarating, like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt.
So there hasn’t been much time to process, to nurture their relationship the way that Ryan would have wanted. And every once in a while, the fact that there is now another layer to the bond they had accumulated and enforced through years of work and partnership; the strange not-changes that had just shifted into place. The fact that all the half-hidden and not so veiled suggestions and hints now have a secure chance of being acted upon-- it comes round to hit him all at once, leaving him flushed and tingling at the fingertips, desperately wondering what if.
Dimly, Ryan realizes that he hasn’t said anything in reply. How long had he sat there with some kind of dopey look on his face, just staring at Shane? This is so absolutely not the time to do this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Steven shaking his head, that pained frown making another appearance. Shane has dropped his serious face, a satisfied tilt to his mouth that Ryan wants to see turn into a laugh.
So Ryan works with what he has, and sometimes that doesn’t include spoken words.
"Oi!” Shane hollers when Ryan launches an attack on his bare arm via marker, the taller man scrambling to shift in his chair and holding his board out like a shield, inching his head out the side to peek at Ryan, “Now that’s just rude.” He declares, and Ryan thinks Shane would have even stuck out a finger if he wasn’t gripping the board so hard.
“You brought it on yourself, big guy.” Ryan arches an eyebrow, watching with some satisfaction as Shane’s eyes slip down to his lips for just a second. At least he wasn’t alone in this.
“So what was all that about?”
Shane must have noticed more than he let on, Ryan thinks later, when Shane crowds him against the sink, dipping his head to nip at the shell of Ryan’s ear, words a rumble against his back.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Ryan hums, leaning back into Shane to let the man feel his warmth, appreciating the sight of the two of them reflected in the mirror. Shane runs cold, something to do with circulation losing the fight against his stupid height and extra-long limbs. But it is quite nice when it comes to sharing a bed.
“You got real red back there, even Steven noticed.”
Ryan’s really tired, out-like-a-light tired, but heat coils in his gut almost instantly. He drops his gaze, suddenly too shy to even look at where Shane’s eyes are twinkling. But it really doesn’t help his situation, because then he sees what Shane’s holding delicately in one hand.
It’s the marker, the very same one, in fact, that he had used to dot Shane’s arm with little black spots. Now those marks stook out stark against Shane’s skin in the white light of the bathroom.
“You’d like it if I wrote my name on you wouldn’t you?” Shane murmurs into his ear, twirling the plastic tube around in his hand casually, like he would have allowed himself to do while on camera. Now that’s a thought. Ryan doesn’t think he’s breathing, he gives the barest of nods, eyes trained on the movement.
“Where would you like it, hmm? Here?” Shane’s other hand skims along his side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He nudges the side of Ryan’s neck with his nose, voice low, “Or here where everyone can see, where they can read my name and know you’re mine?”
There’s a pressure building, and Ryan’s immensely glad they’re doing this after he changed out of his jeans.
“Maybe I’ll write it on you right here, so you can watch yourself come in the mirror?”
“Fuck.” Ryan has to scrabble for a hold on the sink then, his knees losing friction and buckling under him. He feels like one of those car-wash blowy things, and Shane had just ripped out the plug to the engine, leaving him to crumple haphazardly towards the ground in a boneless heap.
But Shane’s there to catch him, hands circling Ryans’ waist in a steady hold.
“Too much?” Shane asks, catching his gaze in the mirror.
“Jesus.” Ryan breathes, feeling Shane chuckle against him, the taller man ducking his head to press a kiss into Ryan’s neck.
“There’s not gonna be room for our pal JC tonight, I can promise you that.”
“Shane. Oh my God.” Ryan complains, eyes fluttering closed against the gentle brushes of hands and breath.
“Not him either.”
“Shut up, Shane.”
“Do you want me to?” Shane’s stubble is tickling the back of Ryan’s neck, Shane’ voice a quiet murmur in his ear, and Ryan’s has always been a sucker for those sweet sweet acoustics.
“Fuck no."
"Open your eyes for me, baby, I want you to see yourself for the next part."
Oh this is definitely a good way to end the night.
"Look who came in with makeup today.”
Ryan’s jolted out from his morning haze, head jerking up to see Jen smirking at him between the gaps of their computer monitors. It’s a bright Monday morning, and they’re back to shooting Unsolved at the ol’ BU office.
“What?” He asks, setting his mug carefully down on his desk, already half empty. He should really watch his caffeine count, he wouldn’t be much use at work if he got all jittery during a shoot. But it’s on Buzzfeed, so he’s going to indulge just a little.
“Busy night was it?” Jen taps a hand on her neck lightly, eyes flitting over to where Shane was opening up his laptop, hair fluffed up and messy. And oh, oh fuck.
Ryan’s hand shoots up to the side of his neck, mouth dropping open. They had left his place so hurriedly this morning, barely pulling on t-shirts and pants to fall into an Uber, Ryan had had to forfeit toothpaste for mints. There was no time for mirrors and grooming.
No time for other things too, as it turns out.
“How…?” He can’t really bring him to finish the question, it seems so wrong to even talk about this here, but Jen takes pity on him.
“Very.” She offers him a sympathizing grimace.
He reaches out to Shane blindly with a fluttering hand, and he thinks he accidentally taps the man across the face, but it does get his attention. Shane’s eyes widen when Ryan turns to show him his neck.
“Oh shit.” There’s worry in his face as Shane does a quick once over to check if the others are showing, which they weren’t. It’d be really problematic if they do, considering where they are. When he meets Ryan’s eyes again, Ryan thinks he sees something like excitement glint there.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s a thrill in Ryan’s chest as well.
“Do you need…?” Shane starts, one arm outstretched as if he would bolt and fetch Ryan all the wet-wipes and concealer that he’d ever need, the moment Ryan asks. And Ryan’s heart just absolutely melts for this man.
Slowly, Ryan lowers his hand to bare the black lines, the span of Shane’s signature arcing across the side of his throat, probably along with the faint print of Shane’s hand, if the tenderness there was any indication. Ryan’s wide awake now, feeling his face heat up when Shane’s eyes darken in the morning light.
“Oh Ryan.” It shouldn’t be possible to look sultry and soft at the same time, and Ryan is immensely glad that he gets to have this all to himself.
“Shane.” He echoes, sitting up straighter in his seat. Jen whistles from across his desk.
“So you’re leaving it on?” Shane leans on the arm of his chair, and now he’s more confident, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, “People are gonna take pictures, social media, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Let them.” Ryan crosses his arms and hooks a foot around Shane’s ankle, offering the taller man a sly smile and savoring the sight of the blush creeping onto Shane’s cheeks. “You did say it looked good last night.”
Shane’s eyes tilt until they’re curvy, and he flashes a devious grin back, and Ryan knows today’s gonna stretch like decades before they can rush home and fall on something soft, or crash against a wall. Both have proven equally effective.
“Oh you bet it does."
#Shyan Valentines <3#I love you star for you and your ideas#alex writes#this was so much fun#shyan#skeptic believer#otp: we took an oath#shyan fic#shyanvalentines2020
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EMOTIONAL SELF-CONTROL. CHAPTER 9: REFLECTION OF YOUTH.
CHAPTER | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |
He glanced up at the mirror in front of him. He saw someone he didn’t quite recognise. He breathed heavily as he stared into the mirror, seeing the mess of a person before him. His hair was completely out of place from where he had pulled it so tightly, his eyes were surrounded by darkness and the stubble he had been growing became slightly more noticeable. His t-shirt was wet from the water he had just splashed on himself.
Steven was a mess.
The sight of himself made him angry. This wasn’t who he wanted to be - was this how Connie saw him? Was this how his whole family saw him?
His eyebrows dropped as his frustration grew, staring deep into the reflection. He couldn’t control how fast his emotions changed, he was completely beneath himself. Steven gripped onto either side of the sink as he clenched his teeth together in anger.
Steven watched as his skin began to glow a bright shade of pink. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. He had to make it go away.
Guys, I spent all day writing this chapter. It’s like...13k words hahaha. Really enjoyed it, so I hope that you enjoy the read.
#emotional self control#emotional self control su#I LOVED WRITING THIS ANGST#IT'S BAD LMFAO#NO CRYING ZONE#steven universe#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#connie and steven#connverse#conniverse#su#suf#su fanfic#angst#kay writes#kay draws
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It's another smutty chapter.
Part 14: Desperation
“Quit touchin shit,” he mutters catching you as you try to masturbate. You thought he was sleep.
“Not when it’s mine to touch,” you counter, watching his back and waiting for him to show off. He doesn’t move as minutes pass. “Erik,” you whisper, “You’re not sleep. Why can’t you just let me borrow your tongue? You did it before.”
“Tongue machine broke. Dick machine up,” he mutters.
“NO. I want the tongue,” you reiterate.
“I know,” he says in a smiling voice that irks your soul. He knows his power.. But you're also sticking to yours.
"You can be so childish sometimes," you sigh getting up to take off the lingerie. It feels like such a waste.
“You the one with a puddle between your thighs still tryna control shit, it’s hilarious.”
You were fuming. You’d finally set your nerves aside to ask him for head, something you’d NEVER typically do just for the thickheaded negro to say NO.. Twice! It took you a while to come to an understanding as you stared at the polka-dotted lump beside you in disdain, only mildly embarrassed. You knew exactly what Erik wanted from you. He was playing a game that he expected to win by breaking you down until you relented to his sexual tyranny.
Your nostrils flare as you watch him sleep, his dreadhead smashed into the pillow. Thanks to his forced hydration, you’ve urinated enough times to fill an inflatable raft. Five times, your bladder has woken you and whispered up to your hand to slap fire out of him. The temptation has been great. The sixth time waking has you rushing to the toilet, groggy and irritated. You finally march out from the restroom slapping him on the shoulder and he doesn't stir. You shove him, his big body hardly moving, and he won’t open his eyes. He's that damn stubborn.
It's cool, I’ve got something for you, you nod. If he thinks your last move was bold, oh he'd see bold. Moving into the bathroom for a quick refresh of your nether-regions, you stick a careful finger up there to test it with a quick sniff and a quick taste. You're starting to think maybe you just don’t like the taste or mouth feel of bodily secretions in general. Looking in the mirror, you snatch your scarf off and adjust the PJ shorts and t-shirt you’d changed into after his threat. Although you wanted head, you weren’t ready for all of that extra that he wanted to do to you and you wouldn’t be intimidated into it. Erik's reign of tyranny would not commence.
Yours, however, would be effective immediately.
Watching your face in the bathroom mirror as you cackle soundlessly, mischief in your smile and intention, you turn to step from tile to carpet and pad silently back to the bed noting that Erik has not moved from that same spot that he's been buried in. That wicked smile stretches your face again. You've been a great pain in my ass, Stevens. It's my turn. You push down and kick off your shorts, not having underwear beneath and feeling the air. Suddenly this is all too real and you can feel your nerves kicking in, your heart racing. Whooshing out a calming breath, you blink and steel yourself. The A/C provides a low comforting hum in the background. No movement from Erik yet. Good. When you walk over to peek at his rugged yet youthful profile, still sleeping, you hesitate. The last time you woke him, he choked you on a reflex ingrained from his military days. You could still feel it when you thought about it. What would he do now, bite your clit off? Climbing gently back onto the bed, you throw your leg over his head and lower your pussy onto the side of his face that’s exposed, grinding. Spreading your lips, you make sure that your clit in particular wipes and grinds against his stubbly cheek. It feels good.. and bad at the same time but in the best way.
“Wake up,” you squirm. “Your country breakfast’s ready.” He still won’t move. “Eat it while it’s hot.” It's no later than 6 AM, but you've slept horribly and because of that it's time for him to pay.
He groans and breathes out deeply through his nose. “You got ya pussy on my face, ma?” His sleepy bass is so deep it makes you clench.
“I’ve got your breakfast on your face. Leftovers from last night that you’ve yet to finish. Aren’t you hungry?” Silence. You grind on his beard a bit more and wonder if he’s falling back asleep. Eventually you say ‘fuck it’ deciding to get yourself off using what you can access of his face.
“You nasty,” he mutters.
“And you’re allowing this to happen,” you contest, continuing your quest for an orgasm. His heavy hand collides against your bare ass cheek before gripping and rubbing it.
“Hella bold,” he sighs flipping over onto his back. “Go ‘head ride this tongue then.” His long pink tongue flops out and immediately the feeling amplifies. Now that he’s involved, he’s sucking and licking the right spots and making his tongue stiff for you to grind on and ride while you rock, grinding all over his lips, nose, mustache, and beard. When he snakes his arms around your thighs anchoring you down, you bite your lip containing a moan that threatens to spill. He knows what he's doing. He's got his soft lips clasped tightly on your clit and your mind goes blank, stalling like a frozen video on an old television with static. Suddenly he hums and oh my gosh... the vibrations go through you forcing your bottom lip free.
“Oh my God…”
“Mhm,” he hums, his tongue flicking for an added sensation that makes you leak. His lips suction off repeatedly with suction noises and every time, you feel yourself expand.
“Mmmmhh,” you moan breathing heavily, riding his face hard like it were a small mounted dildo or a stationary massager. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp and he lifts you up off of his face right before you get there, flipping you onto your back. You can't stop your hips from moving as you stare up in anticipation.
---
Erik's dick was hard enough to cut diamonds having been celibate for days. He hadn't even masturbated. She looked down on Y/N's body naked from the waist down. Her pussy was engorged and ready, her sticky nectar wetting her juicy inner thighs. Her eyes showed perfect submission, her chest rising and falling fast like she was in heat. He licked his lips swallowing so not to drool, crawling over top of her body, his hands grabbing hers and pinning them over her head. Her hair still smelled like every good oil and he inhaled the scent deeply, his nose at her neck. She always smelled good, he could count on it. He kissed her right there on the side of her extended neck, biting and sucking her skin softly as she panted softly in his ear, mewling like a kitten, her hips still moving desperately. He had her. As much as she'd protested, he knew it'd end up this way. It always did when he touched her like this. He chuckled, the soft skin of her throat luring him in and calling him back. Sitting up to look her in the eye, he kept a hold on her hands.
"Relax," he whispered watching her dark pupils dilate. "I'm a let you go now. I want you to get up. Get dressed. I'm taking you to breakfast and we're gonna enjoy the day." Instantly she thrashed, like he knew she would. She was pissed. It made him laugh and his head dipped down beside her neck as she shook in her tantrum. She was so mad.
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME," she yelled, her lips balling like someone's mama telling them to put something back in the store. Erik was in hysterics.
"Nah, suffer, because you can't take it when someone does this shit to you. How long have you been telling me no? Hm?" She thrashed again trying to kick her legs, but it was a fruitless effort, she wasn't overpowering him. "Calm the hell down. I asked you a question, we can stay like this all morning. It's gonna suck when you gotta piss again."
"I don't know, a few times," she yelled.
"Tell the truth...," he cautioned, brows high.
"A LOT," she snapped.
"A while... See? You don’t like hearing no either! Being left to take care of your own needs when all your partner gotta do is give in? Annoying ain't it!? You see what the fuck you be putting me through?" She was seething, trying to intimidate him with a baby glare that only made him want to kiss her.. or break her. She didn't know what real malice was. She wasn't taking his words as seriously as she needed to and he was starting to lose his patience. The rougher dom was about to come through.
---
You glare at him, thinking of yanking your body again to try to knee him in the balls because he won't let go! Your pussy is still clenching uncontrollably and independant of you and you've finally had enough. All you can really think is, "Fuck you, Erik. Fuck this room. Fuck your motherfuckin house. Fuck your stupid gotdamn rules!"
"I like that dirty ass mouth. You tryna kiss my dick with that mouth?"
"You're such an asshole, I don't know why I bother with your stupid confused ass! You don't even deserve it!" You jump again and he releases you a bit before slamming you down harder, restraining your wrists and and legs with his weight. You think of yelling again but then you see his eyes and your voice leaves.
That deep.. menacing.. ice cold, unpredictable, penetrating stare. All the warmth leaves your body at once replaced with a chill and for a second you wonder who.. or what.. you're actually dealing with. It's that look from that day at your apartment when something strong in you warned you to run. You can't tell if he's angry or detached, but you also can't look away. His mouth approaches your ear and you hold your breath, frozen, your eyes on what you can see of him.
---
The sudden fear in her eyes made him check his expression. He had a bad habit of letting himself a little too loose with her. He was seeing her as prey. Hunt, chase, kill.
“I clearly remember telling yo ass these nuts ain’t free. I don’t give a damn how fine you are, you won’t get any nut off me until you beg me and I mean that shit. From the wells of yo mothafuckin soul, I wanna feel the conviction in your voice tingle in my balls.. until I say it’s enough. Then and only then will I give you what you need.. and trust me, sweetheart… You need this shit.”
Her back arched off the bed and he could feel her body tremble, her shoulders harlem shaking under him like she was cold. It came straight from her spine as he put his nose in the crook of her neck. Damn, she was sensitive.
“Don’t move,” he released her wrists to push down on her pubic bone. Her whole pussy was wet and it had spread to her thick and shining inner thighs. He slapped her pussy listening for her light gasp as she twitched before rubbing with his hand up and down the lips, massaging away the sting. “Wet ass pussy and you still playing.” His finger stroked up and down teasing her entrance feeling her clench before slipping inside to feel her. Her mouth opened and her eyelids went half-mast as he watched her dysfunctional pupils stare past him, seeing nothing. The wet, squishy flesh rubbing against his middle finger made his jealous dick twitch in his briefs. It was laying all up on her though his briefs, he knew she could feel it. He slipped in a second finger and it was instantly coated as his fingers pumped back and forth, curling to tap and stimulate her g-spot.
Her chest heaved and she exhaled a loud breath that tangled with a mangled moan, her lip wedged between her teeth. Her dumb ass was still holding back as her ass tried unsuccessfully to rise up from the bed.
---
“You don’t even have a clue,” he sighs, humored by something. You keep your attention on his eyes unsure of what he’ll do next. The seconds feel like minutes as he stares through you as if reading a passage that’s inked onto your very soul. “You a fuckin brat. You know what that is? Hm?” You can feel his fingers stretch you apart and pull out only to push back in, stroking and stimulating your entrance and walls. When his rough thumb rubs over your swollen clit, it’s the sensation you’ve been subconsciously waiting for. That sweet spot. Your brain stalls again, an image stuck on stutter as your eyes roll and your eyelids blink rapidly. He knows exactly what he's doing.
“Look at me,” he orders gripping your jaw when you can't. “I said look at me. Open them pretty eyes.” His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your cheeks smushing them into a fish face that you don't have the energy to focus on. He’s never ceased his motion in your pussy and you just wanna cum. It’s right there, you can feel it close. His grip on your jaw tightens again and you force your eyes open to look up at him fighting the urge to close them.
“There you go focus them eyes on daddy. You gonna be a good girl?”
“Don’t stop. Don't you d-”
“Shut the fuck up, I'm controlling this shit. I control the pace and what we do.” He pulls his fingers out and you pout as they go directly into his mouth, his eyes still on yours. You feel yourself throb, missing the feeling of him already. “BEG. Show me how bad you want that nut.” You bite your lip. “I'm not buying it,” he whispers in a sing-song voice.
“Dude,” you whine, “I've been horny out of my mind since last night, I'm dying! Do that thing you did before with your tongue... Please, please make me cum already,” you moan, with your eyes set on his. You still remember when he edged you in your own room and left you aching for release. “Please finish!”
“We in the same boat and I'm not used to dry spells... You on the right path though. Let that freak loose,” he whispers holding your face in his hands, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip.
“You’re turning me the fuck on right now and I’m already soaked.”
“Mm..” He licks his lips giving you flashbacks.
“Please..”
The more you talk, the closer her gets. He has that look again.. but it's contained his time. Not so scary. He's adapting.. to you. You can't help but feel a little proud.
“Grab my dick. Pull it out… What it feel like?”
---
“Lead..” she scoffs, “A velvet bookend.”
“...Why are you like this?” Erik shook his head, humored as her feminine fingers roamed up and down his shaft. He watched her as she bit the inside of her full bottom lip, looking up at him, her almond eyes falling all over his body in admiration as he stood shirtless with his locs free. He made his pecs dance and a fire brightened in her eyes. He could feel desire palpable and radiating from the brown goddess, her hips wide and rounding out into thick brown thighs.. the picture of perfection. She was still touching him in wonder and he caught the spark of an idea in her eyes. What you finna try, little girl?
“Let me suck it, please... Daddy?” That was the keyword. He knew she was smart. “Can I suck it? I wanna suck it so bad.”
Oh word?
“Put it in your mouth.” He was willing to bet money that she didn't know how to suck dick right. Usually, that would be a huge dealbreaker but somehow when it came to her, he always had the patience. He was confident in her ability to master anything she put her mind to. She put the tip in her mouth and sucked.
“Lick the shaft, up and down the sides,” he said watching her tongue flatten and glide up and down. “Spit on it. Make it sloppy. More of that,” he pointed out when she drooled spit onto him. She licked up and down the underside of his dick before returning the head to her mouth.
“If you bite me that's yo ass. Go ahead and suck that dick.” The longer she went, the more into she got, looking up at him through her lashes. “You tryna make daddy buss?” Her head bobbed in an affirmative, her tight lips and soft wet mouth enveloping him in warmth. Drool dripped down his shaft making him feel appreciated.
“Your life’s purpose as of right now is to please daddy as Daddy's lil angel. Convince me that you've given in completely to your role.” He rested his hands behind his back as she incorporated the use of her hands on his base. “You learn fast, baby.” The praise made her go harder. It made the head sloppier as she swirled her head around his head. He could tell she was loving it. “Twist your hands, like a pepper grinder,” he breathed, feeling like that nigga. “Keep sucking it. More, just like that.. yeaah, until I'm completely satisfied… Oh shit..” She was doing it a little too well now.
“You did this before?”
She shook her head no with a proud smile.
“My little genius.. lick them balls. Keep stroking my dick.”
---
You sucked, and licked, and stroked, and drooled as the more you did it, the more you wondered if you were doing it right. Would he ever cum? What was taking so long? He looked like he was enjoying it and you could hear his moans that had you dripping, but still no cum.
“If you think I’m that easily assuaged you must not know daddy like that,” he says suddenly reading your mind. “Surprise, my love,” he chuckles, “This shit stay hard like a jolly rancher. You gotta work harder.” You can feel it thumping in your mouth, his heartbeat. “Mm.. Do you want it down your throat baby? You want that big dick down your little throat?”
“Mhm.. mhm,” you mumble, mouth full.
“Say it. With the dick in your mouth, beg me.”
“Ah awhn ha hi hahee..,” he stares down and you add, “How hi hoat, hahee hees.”
“That’s my big girl.” You don't know how he understood you. “That’s how you ask for this dick. That’s how you get what you want. Tap my leg if you feel like you gonna throw up. We don't do that.” His dick slides back toward your throat. You can feel him pass your tonsils and you grab his thighs pulling him closer. You have no gag reflex. Surprise, nigga.
“SHIT BITCH,” he roars, cackling at the ceiling before he unleashes fire, throatfucking your face. Spit flies from your mouth and you can feel your nose run as his grip stays hard on the back of your head. You still need to breathe. “Look at me... Oooh shit. Eyes watering. I'm taking your fucking soul. Leave it on this dick, you don't need it.” When he pulls out, you pant with a thick line of drool down your chin and runny snot mixed with tears on your top lip. He goes to the bathroom to bring back tissue, wiping your nose and top lip clean. You still have drool galore.
“Spit that back on my dick... Now suck it,” he hisses, “Hands down don’t wipe it. Look at me and tell me what's rule three?”
If you own it it's yours and you'll do whatever the fuck you want with it. You mumble it around his dick as best as you can.
“I've been so damn patient, spoiling you. I ain't do half the shit I could've done to you. You were basically free. Now you don’t have a fuckin choice. I'm taking what's mine. If I hear a wait, stop, or no, I'm fucking you harder. Nod if you understand.” You nod and he pushes you off of his dick lifting you and tossing you back onto the bed before dropping over top of you. Your knees lift and you cover your face as they get pushed back out of the way, your ankles guided over his large shoulders. “Look down. I want you to watch as I fuck you.”
“I- w- LET ME SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT.”
“I don't wanna hear it, I already know! You look at the girls I fuck and you scared I’m a fuck you just like that, all rough and shit. Am I right? You scared I’m a slide this dick a lil too deep in that wet ass pussy.. hit it too good.. flip that switch and trigger something crazy. Newsflash, I already know you a freak.” His smirk is accusatory.
“Look! All I'm saying is.. slamming whatever amount of inches that is,” you point to the slimy monster that was just in your throat, “Into a 4 inch deep cavern is reckless and excessive. You’re a mathematician, Mr. Statistics, do the math on that. I’m not Cierra and my vagina has WALLS. You can’t just run through WALLS and what you won’t do is dog my pussy out. Save that energy for Ms. Bitch or whatever you named her. Ain’t no preparation in the world enough for all that.”
“You telling me how to give dick now? I give good dick on the regular. Yo ass never had it. How you gonna tell me,” he laughs. His dick pushes into you catching you off guard and sits at your pulsing entrance, heavy. “SHIT..,” you both gasp at once. He stalls allowing you to adjust. You can feel him throb as you squeeze, his eyes shut. Then he opens them, renewed anger on his face. “Oh I’m a fuck this pussy up.. Goddammit.. I'm a fuck you how you know deep down you need to be fucked and you gone take the shit like a champ.”
---
He went deeper as she slapped and shoved at his chest, arms, and stomach trying to keep him still. He'd already gotten a taste. It was too late. He slid deeper and she groaned, whimpering and whining between heavy breaths. “You finna cry,” he teased lowering his body down onto hers as his hips grinded into hers. “I got you. Go ‘head cry. Cry for daddy.” On cue her tears fell and he licked them as they slid past the outer corners of her eye, down the side of her face. Salt. He bit her quivering bottom lip as she moaned loudly, scratching his back with her nails. She couldn't control her volume, it was up and down, high pitched. "Way-way-wait," she gasped, pushing once she realized her mistake. "NO, WAIT!" His response was to slam his dick into her, over and over... stomach to stomach. She screamed and beat his back and arms with her fists while trying to squirm away. He kissed her neck, whispering in her ear. “Where you think you bout to go? You ain't going nowhere. You gone fuckin hate me. Then you gone love me.” Her nails dug roughly into his flesh and he knew he was bleeding, but it ain't phase him. He bottomed out listening as she whispered every profane word she knew.
"I feel you tryna nut. You think you deserve it?"
"Yess!" That was the only clear thing she said, the rest was unintelligible gibberish but he understood the spirit of it.
"Beg me for that nut," he grinned. He knew he was being aggravating. He planned to let her nut regardless. He was close himself. She begged and he could feel the urgency in her voice. She was so scared he'd pull out and leave her like that. Not this time though. She came hard, wailing, back to back her orgasms came... Her face and her eyes were stuck. He chuckled.
“Fuck.. you, mother..fucker, I hate you,” she cried breathlessly when she could finally talk.. an on and on.
“Your pussy ain't get that message. Listen to her.." The loud smacking in the air made his point. "She say FUCK you, she happy!” She was so wet, he could fill a cup. The loud smacking noise drove him crazy. “Make me wait all this fuckin time. You gone gimme my shit.” He lifted, flipping her over onto her stomach. “Toot that ass up. Spread your knees.”
She went straight to it and he sunk his dick into her pressing into her arch to deepen it.
“Oh you love this dick now,” he smirked, “Annoying ass brat. You know you irk the fuck outta me sometimes? You could've been had this dick, but you like to play. You like to tease a nigga till he grab you by your hair..” He gripped her kinky hair in his fist. “And fucks you till you can't think.. That's what you want?” Her moans were unceasing. He slapped her ass cheek watching it jiggle. "Words."
"Nnnmmmhh... Oh my God.."
"Come nut on this dick then." He fucked her roughly and she when she came yet again, the tears and whimpering returned full force. "Feel good?" Her body shook. He watched her spasm. Yeah, she was feeling good. Now it was his turn to chase a nut.
He fucked her like her name was Cierra and she'd broken ten rules, his hand gripping the back of her neck and her face in the comforter. He fucked her like he'd just lost a friend from a hit that went wrong and didn't have a chance to feel it. All of his anger and frustration and regret went into her pussy until he was sweating buckets and grunting.
She'd stopped moving. He looked down suddenly fearful, his heart skipping a beat.. slowing his stroke down a bit. "Y/N?.. Angel?"
She shuddered, blowing out a tired breath and her ass jumped in a twitch. He sighed in relief as he increased his pace again.
She panted desperately. Say no if you want, he laughed to himself. She couldn't talk.
"I'm a fuckin marry you," he gaped in awe. "I thought yo ass was dead. Hold up," he smirked, hand still dripping the back of her neck. "Daddy finna power up.. yeaah," he chuckled listening to her whimper. "Missed time, my angel... This yo fuckin fault..," he breathed staving off his nut with a grunt. "..Yo fuckin fault."
@muse-of-mbaku @imaginewhoever @whoramilaje @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @marvelpotterlove @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagines @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @allhailnjadaka @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens @magic-madness-heavensin @taint3dvirgin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @ange-sensuel @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1 @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent @kaykay0829
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Shrunkyclunks
The Roommate by layersofart (layersofsilence), Niitza (T)
In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his “roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.
It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.
Easy Work For Easy Pay by AustinB (M)
Bucky’s working his way back up through the ranks at S.H.I.E.L.D. after a mission took his left arm and Stark gave him a new metal one.
So when Fury tasks him with integrating the newly defrosted Captain Rogers into the 21st century, he jumps at the promotion.
Side bitch out of your league by rohkeutta (T)
“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”
“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”
“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”
“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.
Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by galwednesday (T)
Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”
Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.
“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”
#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled (Senforza) (T)
Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “…Why would you tweet something like that?!”
“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”
Never Talk to Strangers by mambo (T)
Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.
Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool (T)
Bucky’s running late for the bus and he’s stuck in line behind some ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio bastard who’s too busy flirting with the baristas to get his frickin’ order in. After he tells the dude off, completely in his rights he feels, the damn oversized puppy-faced ass keeps following him around and trying to apologize. And okay, dude is hot like burnin’, but Bucky just doesn’t have the time or patience for soothing the wounded ego of some gymrat wannabe with an obsession for dressing like he’s hiding from the mob and …. why are you laughing, Sam?
no matter how long the day is (i’ll come home to you) by alby_mangroves, talkplaylove (T)
Steve’s spent an hour along Portobello Road before he sees the paparazzi on the left side of the street, trying to be inconspicuous by a street lamp. He crosses the street and ducks into the first store he sees, tucked behind a screaming red door and under a blue and white striped awning.
He listens, feet planted in front of the door, shoulders tense, as he looks around the shop. Row upon row of books are on the shelves in front of him, the wood creaking under their weight. Behind the counter is a dark haired man wearing a jacket, elbow on the table, stubbled chin on one hand, gloved left hand flipping the pages of a book.
No one follows Steve in.
Or, the one where Captain America travels the world, learns how to be Steve Rogers again, and meets Bucky Barnes along the way.
Also: the one where two old souls fall in love over young adult books, long distance calls, and texting at strange hours of the day.
Stevus Interruptus by GoodbyeBlues (T)
“What the fuck is happening out there?” He shouted into his comm.
“Sarge, I think,” Dugan’s voice paused in his ear. “I think Captain America is here?”
Bucky Barnes is a SWAT Team member just trying to do his job. Too bad a certain Captain keeps interrupting all of his missions.
turn me up when you feel low by faerietell (T)
Steve Rogers is a man out of time, in a city that used to be his home, a city he no longer recognizes. Through charming radio host, Bucky Barnes, he relearns his city, adopts a dog, and falls in love.
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