#I’m seeing roger waters this year

[tomatoluvr69]

Fugees have one of my top 5 albums of all time and they’ve been broken up since the nineties but they’re reuniting w/ Lauryn Hill to go on tour!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which is amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Except they’re skipping the entire US south which means I would need to drive 7-9 hours to see them even though this tour is literally a dream come true/once in a lifetime opportunity for me. Actually genuinely considering doing it but christ is that an undertaking…eeek

#like not even a teeny lil Atlanta stop…pleeeeeeease #also I’m so sorry to ppl in regions where most artists don’t tour. my southern US struggle is peanuts compared to yours :-( #also like I have to go to Charlotte or Nasheville to see **** and that’s ugggghgggh #at least Nick Cave comes to my tiny ass town for some reason? #i mean it’s a ‘city’ but it’s a city the way that like an inclined plane is a machine. you know #unpopular opinion among my mutuals but I find the whole process of concerts to be incredibly overwhelming so I don’t go unless they’re like #my favorite artists ever and now that I don’t live in a big city like PGH/Boston the added barrier of traveling to a different city makes #it a really big commitment that’s hard for me lol #it’s bc of the autism……….. #and having three come up in Sept/Oct is overwhelming me to a huge degree lol #it’s one reason I’m glad I listen to a lot of really old music lol #I have been to some shows of my friends since moving here but the last like well known artist I saw was Roger Waters like over a year ago #I saw a lot more before that though and a lot were super important artists to me and I’m glad I saw them and my bucket list is dwindling #which is so nice!! #I’ve literally seen Bob Dylan and Parliament Funkadelic like…I’m good I can retire whenever #so so so sad I’ll never see ATCQ though #luckily whichever city I decide to see Fugees in if I do end up going I have friends I can crash with and stuff #Bon Iver is one of the last on my bucket list and I would looooooooove to see Radiohead too

[beenoeila]

A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic recs #stucky fic

[theodoresgirl]

hey I have a request for a Killian jones x female reader where the female reader is Emma’s twin sister (looks more like snow) and has a 3 year old daughter from a past toxic relationship, if you can’t do it that’s fine either way thank you :)

Killian jones x Emma’s twin sister

Killian jones x Fem!Reader

A/n: I did not forget about this request, Sorry it took me a few days to do! Hope you enjoy<3

—————————————————————————

Y/n was the daughter of David Nolan and Mary Margaret. She also is the twin sister of the savior Emma Swan. She grew up being bounced between foster homes in New Orleans. When she was 23 she had gotten into a really toxic relationship, at 25 she got pregnant and had a daughter.

She had been stuck in the toxic relationship until she was 28, She had packed up her and some of her daughters things and left in the middle of the night.

She had silky long black hair that was curly, brown eyes and a round face with dimples. She almost looked like a clone of Mary Margaret. Her daughter Edith had long dark brunette hair with emerald eyes.

Killian had met y/n and her daughter Edith one day when she had went to visit her sister and parents for one of the first times.

⭐️

Thursday June 25th, 12:51pm.

Y/n was sitting on the top deck of the jolly roger with Edith, They were eating some sandwiches from granny’s. They were waiting on Killian to finish cleaning his ship.

Edith was sitting on the edge of the ship walls looking out on the water, Y/n kept her view on her daughter and occasionally if he was in view, glancing at killian. Y/n finishes her sandwich and crumbles up the wrapper putting it into a bag.

Y/n looks around trying to see killian but doesn’t, “can i have your trash princess?” She holds the bag out so Edith can put her trash in it, “and I need you to be on the deck instead of railing so I can go run this up to the dumpster” Edith shakes her head as she puts her trash into the bag.

“I can’t leave you on the railing of the boat- ship? You could fall in the water” “Mermaid” edith looks over the edge. “It doesn’t work that way” She holds Edith back so she doesn’t fall. “I’ll watch her, Don’t worry about it love” Killian came up behind her, startling her. “Oh!- it’s fine- you- You don’t gotta worry about it, Weren’t you cleaning?” she nervously smiled, still not used to someone offering to help her.

“I’m done cleaning, Honestly love we could just head back to your loft if you wanted-“ “i wanna stay” the little one interrupted. Y/n sighed before nodding “i’ll be right back then” she said as she walked down and off the jolly roger.

“Alright then love” Killian smirks and she walks away. He turns towards Edith and leans against the railing of the ship and holds himself up with his elbows. “So what do you like kiddo?” He asked curiously. Edith answered back “Princess, Cartoons, Barbie-“ “I'm gonna have to cut you off there my lady, I have no idea what this ‘barbie’ is, Cartoons too?” Killian admitted. Edith looks at Killian with a confused look, “you don’t know barbie?”. Killian shook his head “what is it?”

“Barbie is movies, some of my favorites” She smiles. “You’ll have to show me one next time I’m over then” Killian pats her head with his hand.

Edith nods and giggles “we can watch a mermaid one” “oh? There’s mermaids?” Killian raises an eyebrow. “yes!! Yes!!” she nods and smiles.

⭐️

Saturday June 27th, 8:00pm

Y/n was laying in the living room with Killian and Edith. Edith was sitting in front of her mother and the pirate watching Barbie: In a Mermaid Tale 2. Killian was laying on the couch with y/n laying on his chest.

Killian had his focus on the tv, only sometimes asking questions about ‘Barbie’, and either getting an answer from the little brunette in front of him or the pale skinned woman in his arms.

After the movie was over both Y/n and Edith were asleep, Killian carefully slips himself out from under Y/n and picks her up. He carries her to her bedroom and lays her down before going out to the living room again and turning everything off. He picks up little Edith and carries her to her room and lays her down, tucking her in, “Goodnight Kiddo.” He muttered as he walked out of the room going into Y/n.

#fanfic #x reader #x yn #killian jones x yn #killian jones x reader #killian jones #ouat #ouat x reader #ouat x yn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You admire the tattoo through the plastic film. It’s so vibrant and red. The outline is beautiful and precise. You worried it would be less than with all your fidgeting but the hours of sitting paid off wonderfully.

You set your feet flat as Sam tosses his gloves and gathers up his tools. You fix the flat pleats of your straight cut skirt and smooth your white blouse. Plain and simple and neat. Just how everything in your life is. Well, except your tattoo.

You’re almost giddy. You feel so… edgy. You know you’re not but you’re going to enjoy the idea.

Your excitement is short lived as a heat settles over you. Like a shell you can’t see. You latch onto your wrist, holding your arms in front of you meekly as you peek across the shop. That man, Steve, he’s watching you again. You’re not sure he ever stopped as you kept your eyes on your round-toed flats for most of the time.

He smiles. The expression deepens the lines in his face and adds definition to his bearded jaw. His blue eyes sparkle deviously as you shy away. That’s the kind of boy, well, man, your mother would warn you about. Fifteen years ago and today.

You follow Sam to the counter and stir out your wallet from your black purse. You count out the rest of the fee in cash and hand it over. He explains the after care as he checks your count.

“Once you see blood under that film, you should take it off. Don’t keep it on longer than six hours. Don’t wrap it after and try to wear light clothing.”

“First ink?” The man interrupts, causing you to visibly flinch. Sam looks over your head and you hesitate to answer.

“Um, yes,” you turn your head only slightly and raise your voice so he can hear over the buzz.

“Can’t see it from here. What is it?”

“Steve, mind your business,” Sam retorts as he closes the till, “sorry about that. He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

“You don’t gotta apologise for me,” Steve calls back, “I’m curious, is all. Sweetheart, if I disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you bend your ankle nervously and try to muster a smile at Sam, “thanks, I really like it. I love it. The colour is so good.”

“Appreciate it. As long as you're happy, I’m happy,” he grins, “here, take this.” He takes out a small booklet, “it’s everything you need to know about aftercare. Keep it clean, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, great,” you accept it, “that’s wonderful.” You tuck it into your purse, “thanks again. I’ll, er, I’ll go.”

“Have a good day,” Sam responds smoothly, a much needs balance for your awkwardness.

You turn and head for the door. You hear a low growl and peer back as you push through. Nat lifts her gun and punches Steve’s arm as he leans to keep an eye on you.

“Would you sit fucking still?” She hisses as he snickers in amusement.

You escape his gaze and the shop swiftly. That went a lot better than you thought. You only wish he hadn’t been there. Watching. A scary man like him, tattoos and all.

Well, you’ll never have another reason to go back to the shop or see that man. You had your dose of rebellion.

🎹

You resist the urge to scratch your ankle. You have discipline. An overbearing degree of discipline. Hammered so deep that you’re left hewn in rigid stone.

The rules. You’ve always been good at following those. It’s the one talent you have.

Aside from the piano.

You set up for the day, your ritual the same as every other. You change the water in the vase and place the long stems inside. The lilies are starting to wilt but they look good enough. You put them on the window sill, a soft breeze flowing in and fluttering the curtains.

You quickly brush a feather duster around the apartment, searching for any spec of dust. You’re gentle at the piano, the old boxy instrument is finely tuned despite its worn varnish. The bench is in a better state as you recently had it reupholstered.

You kick the corner of the carpet down as it folded over with an errant step and you pause to check out the tattoo. It’s so cool. Or cool to you. It’s probably lame to everyone else.

You imagine the rolling eyes and low whispers. Not really the tattoo type…

The boring type. That’s what you are. You live in your corner of the world and you keep to it. You don’t impinge, you don’t intrude, you are a very mindful person. Of others as much as yourself.

You fold the dusters and hang it in the closet from the hook on the inside of the door. You shut it, the hinges squeaking slightly. The walkup was inherited along with the piano. Both belonged to your grandfather. The same man who taught you how to play.

You breathe out as you run your fingertips along the belt of your dress. Some would say it’s out of style, you say it’s vintage. Nothing too flashy. Forest green with cap sleeves.

It’s always a bit nerve wracking to take on a new student. Amanda moved away and so the vacancy needs to be filled. You keep to a particular capacity. Both to maintain your sanity and your finances. Too many and you won’t be an effective teacher, too few and you won’t be able to afford the keys to practice.

It’s not too difficult. Usually their parents walk them in, talk a little bit, and go. Some of them stay after a few lessons to hear their children’s progress. You offer them tea if they do and some shortbread cookies; your grandmother’s secret recipe.

You pace as you check your watch, a slender golden chain attached to an oval face. You tap the glass with your fingernail and sigh. Two minutes.

You twirl and repeat your steps across the rug, just across the top of the stairs. You pull down your lip anxiously but correct the impatient habit quickly. Don’t fidget so much. Stop picking at yourself. Your mother’s voice lives in your head.

You circle around and straighten the framed embroidery above the antique side table. You lean back on your heel and consider it. Still a bit off. You work at getting it perfect, your obsession pierced by the doorbell.

You recoil and go to the top of the stairs. You look down and see a silhouette on the other side of the half-moon pane set into the thick walnut door. You glide your hand down the banister as you descend and steady yourself at the bottom.

You set your shoulders and smile. You’ve done this so many times before. Why are you so unsure? When have you ever been sure? Oh gosh, what if they see your tattoo? What if they think you’re trouble?

You grasp the curled handle and twist it. You pull the door open and your cheek twitches in surprise as you face the unexpectedly familiar face. You blink long and hard. You don’t believe it. It can’t be him. You must be dreaming. That must be why this whole day has felt so surreal.

“Hi,” Steve’s deep tone washes over you like a tide.

“Um, hello,” you look to the right, then the left, then at him. He’s alone. It’s just him. Why is he here?

You can’t be mistaken. You see the tattoos peeking out at the ends of his jacket sleeves along his knuckles. His newest addition shows through the white fabric of his plain cotton tee. It’s definitely the same man. How could you forget those eyes?

“I’m here for piano lessons? This is the right unit, right?”

“Piano? I– yeah, I teach but, er…” you reach to rub your neck and his gaze follows the gesture before returning to your face. He watches you intently, just like at the shop. “I usually teach–”

“Beginners,” he smirks, “yeah, I know I’m a bit old but I always wanted to learn.”

“Well, of course, um, anyone can learn but I…” you try not to show your confusion.

It’s not his age. You’ve taught adults before. No, it’s that he’s even there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Or maybe he doesn’t even remember you.

“So, you healing up?”

“What?”

“The tattoo.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at your feet, “sure. It’s… alright.”

“I’m dying to scratch mine,” he chuckles, “which is why I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Yes, I mean, okay,” you grip the door tightly.

“All cards on the table, I heard you in the shop say you taught piano,” he confesses, “I looked you up. I’m sorry. I hope that’s not weird.”

You let out a long breath. It is weird but he is being honest. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. And anyone can get a tattoo, even you. So maybe he isn’t too bad. And maybe you need the cheque.

“You’re late,” you say, “usually I ask my students to be ten minutes early.”

“Got it,” he nods, “promise, it won’t happen again.”

“Put your shoes on the mat,” you back up and open the door, “since we’re already behind, I won’t have time for the tea.”

“Maybe next time,” he breaks the threshold as he peers around at the entryway, “nice place.”

“It is,” you say, “the piano is upstairs.”

You spin on your heel and scurry up the steps. You cling to the railing to keep yourself on your feet. Now that he’s inside, you’re even less sure about this.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #au #drawn together #tattoo au #marvel #mcu #captain america #natasha romanov #sam wilson

[cevansbaby-dove]

i'll always care about you.

pairing: Steve Rogers XBestfriend!reader

You and Steve have been great friends for many years. And now while your sick you two are there for each other.

Warning:None just pet names (doll, sweetheart) lots of fluff and a few kisses.

Shout out to @nicoline1998enilocin for helping me come up with the idea for this i have wanted to write more of Steve and you helped me out so much! Thanks again.

You woke up with a really bad head ache and man you feel hot too. You walk into your bathroom and grab a wash cloth and wet it down and you see your phone ringing. "shit"

You walk back into the bedroom and pick up your phone and see it's your friend Steve. You pick up. "hey stevie what's up?" You said trying to hide your sore throat.

"Hey sweetheart was calling to ask if you wanted to go see a movie with me."

"uh that would be great but...Stevie i came down with something So maybe next time?"

"Oh i can come over! I'll be over in fiffteen"

You sit on your bed. "No stevie i don't want you to get sick from being-" "no sweetheart i have to help you please?"

You roll your eyes. "Okay okay sure but if you get sick I'm sorry in advance"

You and him end the call and you walk into your kitchen and make some tea and grab your book and sit on the couch and start reading.

You then hear a knock on the front door. You look over and say. "it's unlocked" Steve walks in. "really doll you just say that most of the time??" You laugh. "yes why?"

"because you never know who might be at the door' he walks over to you and kisses your head making you pull away. 'No no! No kisses steve"

"okay sorry, i brought over some muffins and some tea for you and i am open all day so i have no where else to be"

You lightly smile. "Your so sweet thank you"

You two make some water for the tea and then you sit on the couch. "Hey steve can i put on a movie?"

Steve sits by you handing you the tea. "Sure doll" You groan lightly. "Sorry my head is killing me" I shut your eyes then steve says. "I'll grab some aspirin."

He walks back into the kitchen and grabs the bottle and takes one from the bottle and sit by you handing you the pill. "here"

You take the pill and pop it into your mouth and then take a sip of your green tea and say. 'Thank you steve" he smiles. 'Your welcome doll."

You two spend half the day on the couch and you turn and look at him and say. "Thank you for coming over but you really didn't have to stay all day"

Steve looks at you and smiles. "I wanted too doll is that not ok?" you laugh. "it's ok thanks" he kisses your head and you lay your head on his arm and you hear him say. 'I love you doll"

The next day you were feeling better and Steve is back agian making dinner for you.

You are at the counter. "hey steve?" He turns and says. "Hmm?" You look at your hands. "did you um..say you loved me last night?"

Steve's face turns bright red and he says. 'Um..no i uh...damn yes i did i'm sorry if that made you feel-" You look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"tell you what?"

"tell me you loved me....are you...are you in LOVE with me?"

Steve rubs the back of his neck "um..i uh...."

You groan and walk to him. "steve-" He says. " I’m in love with you. Are you happy now? Can we move on?"

You blink and say. "No..."

"what!?" You lean up and kiss his soft lips and he pulls you closer to his body and you pull away. "I'm sorry i...i didn't" He kisses you deeply before you can say you loved him more than you planned.

Sorry this took so long but i ran blank for ideas then i had sometime to think. enjoy.

tags:@cutedisneygrl @mrsevans90 @patzammit @angelbabyyy99 @armystay89

#steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steven grant rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au

[wood-white-writer]

“DMTMYHB” [Incorrect Quotes]

A/N: Happy (late) NEW YEARS! So, I know I've been AWOL for a while, but rest assured, the next chapter of “Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” is still in development, and work has as per fuckin' usual demanded a lot of my time. So, in absence of a new chapter, I decided to fuck around some with the Incorrect Quotes generator. Ended up with some good stuff, especially surrounding Buggy, Reader/Cross Hair, and Shanks' younger selves.

Keep in mind, not everything’s canon/non-canon, it’s just for funzies.

Enjoy!

———

[Reader], to Buggy: “My life is in the hands of an idiot!”

Buggy, motioning to himself and Shanks: “No no no no no, TWO idiots!”

———

Arlong, negotiating with [Reader] while holding Buggy’s head above water: “We have the clown. Give us ten thousand berries and he will be returned to you unharmed.”

Buggy: “Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand berries?”

[Reader]:

Buggy: “MAKE IT ONE MILLION—“

[Reader]: “BUGGY STOP!”

———

[Reader]: “Buggy, keep an eye on Shanks today. He’s going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.”

Buggy: “Sure, I’d love to see Shanks get punched.”

[Reader]: “Try again.”

Buggy, sighing: “I will stop Shanks from getting punched.”

———

Buggy: “Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.”

Shanks: “You were flirting with [Reader].”

Buggy: “So what? She’s my partner.”

Shanks: “You asked them if she was single.”

Buggy:

Shanks: “And then you cried when she said she wasn’t.”

———

[Reader]: “Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million berries?”

Buggy: “You stab me, and then when my leg pops back, we buy a big-ass ship!"

Shanks: “You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 million.”

Buggy: “Good thinking.”

Gol D. Rogers, listening from the sidelines: *increasing concern for his apprentices*

———

[Reader]: “Arlong, my old arch enemy.”

Buggy: “... I thought I was your arch enemy?”

[Reader]: “I have a life outside of you, Buggy.”

Buggy: 😢😢

———

Luffy: “Can you keep a secret?”

[Reader]: “Do you know anything about my life?”

Luffy: “No I do not. Good point.”

———

[Reader]: “Are you sure this is the right direction?”

Buggy: “Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest!”

Shanks: “In that case, we're definitely lost.”

———

[Reader]: “You have to apologize to Shanks.”

Buggy: “Fine.”

Buggy: “'Unfuck you' or whatever.”

———

Shanks: “Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Buggy: “I'm a knife.”

[Reader], from across the room: “He’s the little spoon.”

———

[Reader]: “While I’m gone, Buggy, you’re in charge.”

Buggy: “Yes!!!”

[Reader], whispering: “Shanks, you’re secretly in charge.”

Shanks: “Obviously.”

———

[Reader]: “We need a distraction.”

Shanks: “Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?”

Buggy, whispering: “My time has come.”

———

Buggy: “HELP! I TOLD [READER] I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!”

Shanks, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: “And you thought I could help?”

———

[Reader]: "What do you think Buggy will do for a distraction?"

Shanks: "He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do."

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Shanks: "... or he could do that"

#buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #buggy x female reader #one piece #Shanks #red haired shanks #buggy x shanks #DMTMYHB #Didn't mean to make your heart Blue

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Kinktober Day 10: Pietro Maximoff- Praise Kink

Note: let’s just do Kinktober all the way into the new year 🙌🏻😂

Summary: training with Pietro is nice when he tells you how good you’re doing 😉

Word count: 1, 364 words

Pietro loved to tease and was a complete flirt. He loved finding ways to make people blush, even if he wasn’t necessarily wanting to sleep with them, he just thought it was cute and honestly fun. Once he found out what made you blush there was no stopping him.

You were relatively new to the team and like him and his sister you had powers you were learning to properly control. You didn’t think you were improving and were convinced you’d done terribly at training, that was until a certain speedster had said otherwise.

Stark and Rogers had teamed you two up for training, since Pietro had more control of his powers he could help you with yours. Sitting outside with Pietro beside you, you focused on the small bowl of water in front of you. Breathing smoothly you managed to make it move, nice and smoothly and beautiful. Your moment of pride was soon diminished however when the water crashed down and splashed into your face.

“It’s okay, printsessa, you’re doing well. I’m proud of how far you’ve come.” Pietro encouraged with a hand on your shoulder.

Seeing the blush creep up on your cheeks and the way you stutter out a ‘thank you’ makes Pietro smirk. Slowly his hand reaches your other shoulder and he leans in the whisper in your ear.

“Do you like when I tell you how good you’ve done, Printsessa?” The way he whispers in your ear makes you feel all warm inside and you begin to squirm.

“Yes.” You reply with a half sigh, half moan as he begins to kiss and nip at the delicate skin on your neck.

“Do you want to be a good girl for me?” He now asks, both hands on your face, making you look intensely into his eyes.

The mood of the afternoon shifted so quickly you weren’t sure it was real. For a moment you couldn’t reply, your eyes just darting from his eyes to his lips.

“Yes, I want to be your good girl.” You almost plead with a moan.

“You’re such a good girl.” He chuckles, leaning forward and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. One hand now around your neck and the other is tangled in your hair, all you could do was grab onto his shirt as tight as you could.

The kiss was so full of passion and desire that you just let him lead, being a slave to the passion of the kiss. Breaking the kiss a little early for your liking you look up at him with big doe eyes, pleading for him to continue.

“Be a good girl for me. Go up to my room, take off your clothes and touch yourself, I’ll be there soon.” He orders you, never breaking his intense stare.

Once he lets you go you race as fast as you can back to the compound, leaving a chucking and pining Pietro behind.

******

Walking through the door of his bedroom he finds you exactly how he told you to be. As soon as you heard the bedroom door open your eyes shot open but your fingers on your clit don’t slow down.

“Mmmhmm, now that’s a pretty site, Printsessa.” Pietro praises as he slowly saunters over to you, his eyes raking all over your body.

Despite his powers of super speed the way he took off his clothes was anything but. He took his sweet time removing each item of his clothes, while controlling your movements with just a raise of his eye brow or a tut every time you went too fast. Watching him undress so slowly and controlling the way you pleasured yourself was torture.

Your skin was prickling with need and your moans were absolutely desperate by the time he was completely naked. When you finally saw his cock you couldn’t help but speed up your movements and your eyes grow wide with need.

Finally using his speed, he raced over to you, quickly kneeing between your split legs. He ripped your hands away from pussy and held them both over your head with one big hand, earning him a desperate moan. With the other hand he begins to lightly trace down your body, so slowly and so lightly with just the tips of his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this, all spread out and needing. Such a pretty girl.” He taunts, his finger tip lightly tracing around your clit, making you give out another desperate whine.

Slowly he removes his fingers to take a hold of his cock, slowly lining it up with your entrance. At the feel of him so close to you, you lightly grind against him.

“Ah ah, be a good girl for me. You’ve been so good so far, come on, darling, keep being my good little girl. Good girls gets my cock, is that what you want?” He asks as he teasingly rubs his cock from your clit all the way down your entrance and back again. Biting his lip he watches your reaction so intensely.

“Yes! I want your cock! Please I’ll be a good girl!” You desperately whine out.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe i need a little convincing. You gonna beg for me, Printsessa?” He taunts you with his low and dominating voice, his accent dripping over his words like honey.

“Please, Pietro! Please give me your cock! I’ve been a good girl! Please I need yo-“ before you can continue your desperate pleads he slams is cock into you. Taking the air right out of your lungs as the pure force of the act shoves your head back.

Once the air comes back to you he’s already fucking you into the mattress and you let out a loud animalistic moan. Now releasing your hands from above your head he’s grabbed a hold of both your hips and is shoving you down onto him while he fucks into you.

“Oh fuck! You’ve got such a tight fucking pussy! Oh fuck, baby! You feel so fucking good.” He growls out, eyes never leaving your pussy, amazed at the way his cock goes in and out of you.

You let out another desperate moan, taking him out of his trance and making his eyes shoot back up to you. Seeing how big your eyes have gotten and the desperate look in them makes him growl. Taking one of his hands away from your hips he puts 2 fingers into your mouth, giving you something to suck on.

“Oh what a good girl, taking my cock so good and sucking my fingers like a good little slut. Is that how you’d suck my cock, baby?” He asks, pushing his fingers further into your mouth, making you gag a little.

Your eyes begin to well with tears from how hard he’s fucking you and the way his fingers are plunging into your mouth. Taking his fingers out of your mouth they come down onto your clit, rubbing as fast as his thrusts are. With this new added pressure you can’t help but let out a loud moan and mumbled pleads.

“Come on, Printsessa, cum on my cock. Come on, baby. Be a good girl and scream my name.” He growls out, rubbing and fucking you harder.

“Oh fuck, Pietro!” You scream out in ecstasy as your head flys back.

Barely having enough time to come down from your mind blowing orgasm and Pietro has already flipped you over and filled you with his cock again. Already so drunk off his cock and power, your body almost goes limp, just enough energy to keep your legs bent and your ass out.

Grabbing onto your hips he fucks into you even faster then before. It only takes a few fast strokes before he lets out his own scream and he’s filling you up, grabbing onto your hips with a few more hard thrusts.

Hearing his breath even out you feel him lightly slap and grab at both of your cheeks before he scoops you into his arms, both of you catching your breaths.

“Such a good girl.” He tells you as he holds you tightly and kisses your forehead.

#Pietro #Pietro imagine #Pietro Maximoff #Pietro Maximoff imagine #Pietro x reader #Pietro Maximoff x reader #MCU #MCU imagine #marvel #marvel imagine

[anandrettisimp]

It’s that time of year again, the milk selection for the Indy 500.

I’m gonna preempt you lot by answering some questions:

Do they offer lactose free/alternative milks?

Yes, the American Dairy Association are on record saying they will offer alternatives if requested.

Of the field that I’m aware of Scott Dixon is vegan (though this is since he won his only 500) as is Conor Daly while Will Power is lactose intolerant (but he’s colourblind and says his favourite drink is chocolate milk, survival skills is none with this man). As you can see, none have select it.

Why Milk?

Back in 1936 Louis Myers asked for a glass of buttermilk after his victory as he had always been told by his mum it was a refreshing drink to have on hot days. He’d also had it after his 1933 victory but he hadn’t actively asked for it them. It faded for a while, in fact for a couple of years it was instead a silver jug in the style of a water bucket filled with iced water as "Water From Wilbur" and given by track president and three time winner Wilbur Shaw. In 1956 with the dairy sponsor (including money towards the winner purse) a bottle of the white stuff was back and has been ever since.

Now they use to still have buttermilk as an option until quite recently. The reason it was dropped is that rather than it being the drinking kind they had, it was rather cultured buttermilk which is more of a baking ingredients.

Has anyone drank something other than milk?

Yes, in 1993 Emerson Fittipaldi, wanting to promote his grove back home drank orange juice.

It went down badly.

Even though he did drink the milk after (at team owner Roger Penske’s insistence), it was during an ad break for tv watchers. He would apologise and donate $5,000 from the Dairy Association to charity.

He still got booed at the next race in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, aka America's Dairyland.

….

If you have any more questions then just reblog with them and I’ll try and answer~

#indycar #indy 500 #milk

[tooearlyforthis]

Hey!💖

I have a request (it might be to basic)

I can't stop thinking about Steve comforting y/n after a nightmare about him getting hurt, and I'm imagining him all sweet, he doesn't know what to say but he tries his best

I just need that kind of fluff🥺

Thank you in advance and i just followed you byw

Hey! Sorry for the extremely late reply. I’m going to assume you’re talking about Steve Harrington based on your pfp but if this was meant for Steve Rogers I apologize in advance! I also made the reader a Hawkins lab baby I hope that was okay!

I Love You and I Like You | Steve Harrington

Pairing: bf!Steve Harrington x powered!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Synopsis: After waking up over and over again from the same awful nightmare, Y/n finally confides in her boyfriend what's wrong.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, Hawkins lab reader, tiny moment inspired by Parks and Rec

Click here to see my masterlist

It was hard to let the past stay in the past, especially when every year it seemed to resurface. Y/n thought that Dr. Brenner was long gone, burning in whatever hellscape he went to in the afterlife. That’s what Eleven had told her, that’s what she had believed. It wasn’t true, however, and after the events of summer break, the past finally caught up to her.

Although they had finally defeated the big bad of the upside down, hopefully for good this time, that didn’t stop the pain she felt from staying with her. Ever since then, she had been starting to get the most awful and visceral nightmares - worse than she ever had before. 

Watching as the vines wrapped around Steve’s throat, they pulled him to the wall of the Creel house. Y/n held out her hand, trying to stop them, to untangle them with her mind. But as she strained her muscles, to pull energy from every part of her body, nothing happened. She forced her hand out again, waiting for that familiar feeling to run through her bones -but again, nothing occurred. Steve continued to choke, his face getting whiter by the second. She so desperately wanted to run after him, to pull him off the wall and hold him until he was okay. It was hard resisting, knowing that if she touched them she would meet the same fate. 

Continuing to try,  she held up her hand again, waiting for her powers to flood out, saving the person she cared for most. Nothing ever happened, not even a whisper of movement. She screamed, watching as Steve’s body went limp, the light leaving his eyes. 

Before her knees hit the floor, she was jolting up in bed, gasping for air. 

“Woah, woah, hey,” Steve said, sitting up as he tried to get out of his sleepy daze. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Still trying to catch her breath, Y/n shook her head, feeling her boyfriend slump around her in relief. “I-I’m okay,” she finally said. 

“Are you sure? I could get you some water or-“

“-I’m good, Steve,” she persisted. “Can we just- go back to sleep?”

“Y-yeah, sure,” he said, laying down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, letting his nose get buried in her hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Y/n paused for a moment. Growing up in a lab, surrounded by other grumpy telepaths and mean scientists, trained her to suppress their emotions. And even though it had been almost six years since she escaped, she still found herself hesitant to open up to others - even her boyfriend of almost a year. 

“I just wanna go back to sleep,” she told him. Turning her head, she turned to look at him. “I love you and I like you.”

Giving her a quick kiss, he repeated, “I love you and I like you.”

It was something they had been saying for most of their relationship. After one of their dates at Benny’s Diner, Steve awkwardly held her hands in the parking lot and blurted out I love you and I like you. Y/n remembered smiling so wide it almost hurt. She was his first relationship after Nancy, after being told he and the first girl he loved had a bullshit relationship. That “King Steve” swagger wasn’t as strong and if she was being true with herself, it was the only reason she agreed to go on a date in the first place. 

So when those awkward words left his mouth making him question everything about their relationship up until that point, it was such a relief when she repeated them back to him. From that day, on it became a constant in their lives and it still made her smile every time he said it. 

She felt him inch closer to her, snuggling close as if a hug would fix her problems. To be honest, it was kind of working. The comfort of his touch, the knowledge that he was safe beside her - there was no need to stress him out more when this was enough. 

Letting sleep take her once more, she tried her best to dream of better times. 

🎬🎬🎬

The second time she woke up with a nightmare later that week, Steve was a little more persistent. He held her as they sat up in bed, arms wrapped around her back. 

“Please tell me what’s going on I hate seeing you like this,” he pleaded with her, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she began to calm down. “If you tell me I-I could try and help, maybe take some of the stress off of you.”

Y/n shook her head, rubbing her hands against her eyes. “No, it’s nothing just…I’m going to go wash my face off. Just need some cold water.”

Before Steve could argue she was up and out of the bed, walking over to the bathroom attached to her room. The water was colder on her face, refreshing her immediately. It helped a little, letting her think of another place where Vecna wasn’t creeping around every corner. 

Turning back to the door, she paused. Maybe she could stay in the bathroom a little longer. Steve was an amazing boyfriend and a persistent one at that. She didn’t need his questions or searches for answers when she knew he had nightmares himself. Putting that weight on him was something she couldn’t bare. 

He knew she was a test subject from the lab, the same as El, but that’s not what bothered her. It was the constant reassurance that everything was going to be okay because she was a test subject. Her powers could disappear one day, the same way they did with El, and she didn’t know if she could be the hero without them. 

For now, she would keep her nightmares to herself. For now, she could ease the minds of the people around her. 

🎬🎬🎬

Family Video was packed for a Wednesday afternoon. Y/n and Eleven perused the isles for a film for movie night. Every so often she would look out to see Steve on the other side of the store helping a customer. He had smiled at them when they came in, the store being so full he hadn’t had time to say hello.

Y/n stuck her head out for another time, getting lost in her thoughts as she stared off to see if he was still working - he was, trying to hold back a yawn as he did so. She had stayed over again the previous night, having yet another nightmare. He tried again to comfort her, to be there by her side, and once again she had pushed him away. She stared off at him, trying to convince herself that keeping him at an arm's distance from her problems was for the best. 

As she continued to debate in her mind, she was pulled out of thought by the shake of her arm.

“Sorry, El what were you saying before?”

“Is this movie okay for tonight?” Eleven asked. 

“Y-yeah sure that’s fine,” she replied, taking one more quick glance at Steve. 

Eleven sighed, setting the movie down. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“What?”

“All you do is stare off at Steve like you two don’t already spend every waking moment together. So, what’s the problem?”

Y/n looked at her little sister in shock. Since when did she become so perceptive? “I…” she began, looking back before pulling El further down the aisle. “I’ve been having nightmares again. Steve keeps dying and I don’t have my powers to save him.”

“Oh,” Eleven said, her face softening.

“Yeah…Do you ever have these dreams? Like you’re going to lose everything close to you?”

“All the time.”

Y/n stared at her surprised. “Really?”

Eleven nodded. “It’s always Mike being taken by the demogorgon and there’s nothing I can do to help. No powers, nothing…then Papa shows up taunting me.”

“I guess this is just normal for us then?”

“I don’t know…” Eleven responded softly. “What does Steve think about these dreams?”

“Oh, I haven’t told him. He has enough to deal with already he doesn’t need my nightmares too. Why? Did you tell Mike about yours?”

“Yeah,” Eleven said so nonchalantly. 

“Yeah?” Y/n questioned. “Just that easy?”

She shrugged. “Mike helps me get through them, he’s there for me and I’m there for him. It might help to tell Steve.”

Y/n looked down at the floor, trying to avoid answering her sister. Ever since Hopper finally loosened up on his rules, letting Eleven finally see more, she had become more worldly. Her vocabulary improved, and so did her fashion and of course, her advice. Curse El for being so mature for her age, she was right, Y/n had to tell Steve about her nightmares. 

Just not today. 

After renting the movies, and Steve making jokes with Eleven, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend. “I’ll see you after your movie night right?” he asked.

Nodding, she replied, “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

She leaned over the counter and gave her a quick kiss, a smile forming on his face as they parted. “I love you and I like you,” he whispered. 

She smiled against his forehead. “I love you and I like you.”

Waving goodbye, Y/n followed her sister out of the store. She felt nervous to tell her boyfriend about all the negative thoughts that had been plaguing her since they defeated Vecna. He was so sweet and she knew he would never judge her but still, she never wanted to burden him with her nightmares….

🎬🎬🎬

It happened again.

Gasping for breath Y/n woke up once more from a nightmare. Before she could even process her surroundings, curled up in her boyfriend’s bed, she felt his arms wrapped around her. Steve slowly leaned into her side, one hand caressing her hair in an attempt to calm her down. 

“I got you, it’s okay,” he cooed. “It was just a dream.”

No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t control her breathing. She felt her heart beating out of her chest, the feeling of panic rising higher than it ever had before. Steve tried again to calm her down, continuing to hold her but it wasn’t helping. 

Quickly, she stood up out of his grasp, shaking her arms out as she paced in his room. “Honey it’s okay, everything is going to be fine,” he said softly. 

Y/n nodded, continuing to walk throughout the room, wanting the feeling to go away. She pushed her hair out of her face, sighing as she sat down on the end of his bed. With her head hidden in her hands, she felt Steve settle down next to her. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “I-I don’t know why this keeps happening.”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, nightmares are normal, especially after what we went through.” He reached over, placing her hands in his. “You can talk to me about them okay? There’s no reason to hide.”

“I don’t want you to stress. Like you said, it was a lot that we went through I couldn’t dump my problems onto you.”

“You’re not dumping your problems onto me. Please, tell me what happens, I want to help. I-I read in this book that talking through nightmares helps with the stress and makes you less likely to have them again.”

Y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile form on her lips. “You read a book about nightmares?”

Steve nodded. “I was trying to find something to help you, I’ve been worried sick since you won’t talk to me about any of it. Trust me, it helps. Just start with tonight's dream okay? What happened?”

Had he really read a book for her? She knew her boyfriend well, he was never the studious type and didn’t care for reading all that much. But the fact that he did it just to help her made her heart feel warm. Slowly nodding, she finally gave in and listened to his and El’s advice. 

“Yeah, okay,” she started. Steve shifted in front of her, ready to help his girlfriend out in any way needed. “I-I pretty much only get one nightmare. It’s always Vecna, strangling you, and my powers are gone. There’s nothing I can do to help you I-I just have to sit there and watch you die…”

She felt tears dripping down her cheeks when she spoke. Taking her hands out of his, she brought them up to her face to wipe the tears away. 

“Oh sweetie,” he said, leaning in to hug her tight. “I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that! Every year we face this thing and every year we are closer to death. Max ended up in the hospital this time I…What if I lose my powers as El did? I might not be able to get them back now that the Nina Project is over.”

Y/n felt her chest start to rise again, hyperventilating as just thought about what could happen if she couldn’t protect him. Steve released her from his hug, settling his hands on both of her shoulders.

“You don’t need your powers, Y/n. You are so much more than them. And so what if you lose them? That doesn’t mean you’re useless,” Steve tried to reason with her but it was clear nothing was going to help right now. “How about we list our favorite places in Hawkins, yeah?”

She looked at him, confused at what he was getting at. Nevertheless, he started listing places. 

“I like the lake, Family Video, your bedroom-“

“Steve!”

“What it’s true!” he exclaimed. “Okay, what about we try dancing, huh? Getting all the jitters out.”

He stood up, waiting for her to follow. Y/n sat still on his bed, still trying to control her breathing. Before she knew what was happening, Steve was doing the worst dance moves she had ever seen in her life. If she could guess that dance, it would probably be closest to the Irish jig. She watched as her boyfriend shuffled across the floor of his room, trying to keep her distracted. 

In his defense it was starting to work, especially when he tripped over his own feet, falling to the floor. Y/n burst out laughing, watching as he snuggled to get back up, rubbing his shins. 

“Get back up here, dummy,” she told him. As he sat back down next to her, she left her head resting on his shoulder. 

“You know I love you, right?” he said softly, making her look up into his eyes. “Nothing could keep up apart. Not even Vecna.”

Nodding, Y/n replied, “I know.” And for the first time, she actually believed it. She stretched forward, slowly capturing his lips on his. They were soft as she gently kissed her back, pulling her closer to his chest. As they separated, she let her head rest back on his shoulder. “I love you and I like you.”

Steve smiled, leaning into her. “I love you and I like you.”

#strangerthings #strangerthings fluff #strangerthings4 #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ff.net #strangerthings fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #joe keery #kurt kunkle #djotime #djo #steve harrington x oc #y/n #y/n has powers #hawkins #netflix

[boxofbonesfic]

I wanna write a fic about a comedian!reader just making jokes at the expense of Cap and she gets some good burns in and the reader doesn’t realise that he’s there with Sam or Bucky in the back and he’s just fuming. And then when her set is over, he confronts her either by following her home or just in the dressing room 🤤 also this is totally free for anyone willing to write it btw, I never see comedian!reader fics.

Title: Last Laugh

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Comedian!Reader

Summary: Your jokes land you in some hot water with their subject–Captain America. Turns out, America’s golden boy’s a bit of a bully–and you kind of like it. 

Warnings: Mean Steve, Sub!Reader, Smut, Light BDSM, Semi-public sex, MINORS DNI

A/N: omg i wasn't expecting all of this to come from the relatively short idea i had in my head, but uh. things happen lol. i hope you all enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics!

“Capscicle is definitely the right way to describe him,” you say conspiratorially, like you’re whispering to the audience through the microphone. They laugh, of course. They’re eating it up, the audience erupting into low laughter right on cue. Even that is appropriate, it’s not the big laugh, the one that’s meant to buy you time to take a drink of water, maybe a few breaths between jokes if you’re lucky.

“They defrosted that guy what, like five, six years ago now, right?” 

Steve clenches his fists.

This is the third show of yours he’s seen. The first was at a benefit–he doesn’t remember for what, something Tony organized–and he’d laughed along good naturedly and thought no more about it. Until Sam showed him the youtube video of your latest cold open for a larger comedian. You’d ribbed all of the Avengers, sure; they were hot gossip, always a crowd pleaser. But you seemed to enjoy digging at him especially, dropping hit after hit, and all of them at his expense. 

“Captain white America.” You say, rolling your eyes. “No, no, I like, him, I do, he’s a nice guy. I met him, you know.” 

He’s made sure to wear a hat, glasses. Still no facial hair, but it’s enough that no one recognizes him. No one’s expecting the butt of your jokes to be sitting in the audience, jaw clenched and lips pursed. Steve can take a joke–he can take a lot of jokes–but your lighthearted ribbing doesn’t feel so lighthearted, not when–

“So like… between you and me, guys… how many women d’you think have gotten, like, to see the shield up close, you know what I mean?” You wink, and the audience erupts into laughter. You hold the mic out towards the audience, and to Steve’s chagrin, people actually begin answering. 

“Ten!”

“Twelve!”

“Five!”

You nod along encouragingly for a few seconds before you shake your head and screw your pretty face into a disbelieving scowl. 

“Y’all buggin’, you know it’s none.” 

There’s only a single beat of complete silence before raucous laughter erupts across the crowd, their disbelief, your delivery–it’s perfect. They laugh for a few minutes, and you, on cue, walk over to the stool that your glass of water rests on and take a deep sip. 

“No, no, you know it’s none! Mister straight laced? Fucking? I can’t see it, I’m sorry. No, you know who fucks? The guy with the metal arm. I know he fucks.” This one earns you another loud round of laughter as Steve fumes silently. He’s taken great care to maintain a good reputation since he’s been back. There had been a time when standing up for one’s country was an unimpeachable act–now, apparently, it is fodder for the drivel that passes for comedy these days. 

“The guy with the metal wings? Oh my god.” You stumble dramatically, and hold your hand tightly to your chest like you’re going to pass out. “He lays it down. I know it.” You look out over the audience and shake your head one last time. “But Cap? I’m not buying it. That man wears tightie whities. That is a man who is in the gym not because he wants to be, but because he needs to be. There’s nothing. Else.” You blow out a breath. 

“I rest my case.” 

The audience laughs again, and you give them a cheerful salute, your plump lips turning up into a bright smile.

“Thank you guys, it’s been a blast! Stay tuned for the main event, I hope you all have a good night!” They clap loudly and readily for you, and you give another little bow before slipping backstage. Steve is already standing up from his seat, shuffling over to the bar to keep you in sight. There’s a door behind the curtains, and with the flurry of activity on set, he manages to slip behind it, stepping into the long concrete hallway. There are a couple of doors, one clearly meant for the main act, closed, though he spies shapes moving under the door and hears the low murmur of speech when he presses his ear to it.

The other door is slightly ajar, and when he peers through the crack, he sees you sitting in an armchair as you toe off the red sneakers on your feet. You’re holding a phone to your ear, chatting in a quiet voice to someone on the other line. 

“No, no, I think it actually went really well. Yeah, I’m excited to see you guys too, mom.” 

Steve knocks on the doorframe, rapping his knuckles against it hard. He’s had weeks to stew in it, watching clips of your shows online as you dig at him. Tony and Sam tell him to take it all in good stride, and he’d certainly given it the old college try. But there was just something he couldn’t abide; maybe it was your smug fucking attitude, or the shit eating grin that graces your pouty lips after every jab–he doesn’t know. What he does know, is that it makes him want to put you in your place. 

Tonight’s show especially.

Steve enjoys the surprised squeak you emit when you tug the door open fully, muttering a hushed “gotta go” to your mother, shoving the phone into your pocket. 

“Mr.--”

“Steve.” He replies, taking off the glasses and shoving them into the pocket of his jacket. “Or Capscicle. Whichever you like.” You wince.

“Please. Why don’t you come in,” you say, stepping aside to allow him into the small dressing room. It’s clear you’re a little embarrassed, but it isn’t enough. It isn’t an apology. 

Not yet. 

He doesn’t sit down, leaning against the sparse vanity with his muscular arms crossed. Steve knows he’s big, intimidating. He’s counting on it. You shrink 

“I take it you were, um. In the audience.” 

Steve nods. “Oh yes, sweetheart. The whole time.” He cocks his head at you as his lip curls. “You know, in my day, it was just plain inappropriate to talk about a person in public like that.”

You swallow thickly, and his eyes track the movement. The skin of your throat looks soft, almost as soft as your lips as you sink your teeth anxiously into them.

 “I… I–I know I can make some, er, raunchy jokes, but–”

“You think you’re funny?” He asks, leaning forward. You look like you want to melt into the chair, and you cast a furtive glance up at him.

“S-sir–”

He’s not sure why that sends a jolt through him, his cock throbbing in his pants. Something about the way you’re peering up at him through your lashes nervously as you fidget. He wants to hear it again. 

“Oh look. You can be respectful,” he sneers, and when you look up at him with misty eyes, he has to shift so that you don’t see the outline of his cock beginning to press against the seam of his pants. “Amazing.” He can tell you’ve never been confronted over something you’ve said before, maybe it’s given you false confidence that no one ever would. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking down at your hands. You shift subtly, the movement so slight that Steve wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t paying such close attention. You squeeze your thighs together, your hands clenching on your jeans, and Steve’s eyes widen just a fraction at the sight. 

Enjoying it. She’s enjoying it. You look away towards the door. And she hates it.

“What was that?” Steve leans forward dramatically, holding his hand up to his ear. “Couldn’t quite hear you, doll.” Fuck, it’s hot to watch you grit your teeth before pouting up at him. “One more time.”

“I’m sorry.” You hiss, pressing yourself further down into the chair. “Happy now?”

“No.” Steve inspects his nails. “I don’t think you really mean it.” You squirm, and he just knows your inner thighs are soaked. He can practically smell it. “Let’s try it again. A little more sincerity, sweetheart. Get on your knees, I think that would be fitting.” 

Your eyes widen, flicking towards the door again. Weighing your options, no doubt. Reluctantly though, you sink to your knees, and Steve’s sardonic smirk grows wider. 

“I’m. Sorry.” You grit out. “Better?”

“How can I accept your apology when you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, doll? Seems kind of silly when you think about it, doesn’t it?” He wants to touch you–your skin looks butter soft–and he reaches forward cupping your chin as he runs his thumb over the apple of your cheek. 

“I–” You swallow thickly. “I want to a-apologize.” His hand slides down your jaw, and the words stick in your mouth a little as his thumb dips into the hollow at the base of your throat. “I d-didn’t know w-what I was talking about–!” The words die as you inhale sharply, air hissing through your teeth. 

“Keep going,” he says softly. “I’m listening.” Steve hadn’t really been paying all that much attention to your body, but now he can’t help but appreciate how nicely your breasts sit in that tight, white top. He’d been too busy thinking about adjusting your attitude for that, but now…

“I, I sh-should never have, ah–” Your nipples harden to points underneath the soft fabric as Steve drags his finger down your clavicle, between your breasts. Your eyes dart toward the door, and then back to him. “Ste–” His raised eyebrow stops you. “Sir, um, the… the door.” 

“If you move before you’ve finished your apology I’m going to stop.”

The ball is in your court, even if only for a moment. This is it, the time to walk away–and you don’t move. There’s a nervous, excited gleam in your eye as you swallow again. You remain on your knees, your palms flat on your thighs.

“Well then. I’m waiting.” 

The self-righteous little huff that leaves your pouty lips makes him want to shove his cock down your slim throat and hold it there until your eyes roll, but he’ll save that for next time. He doesn’t have to waste time considering if there will be a next time or not, not really. Steve satisfies himself with tugging down the already generous vee of your shirt. No bra. He clears his throat. 

“I shouldn’t have talked about you like that, sir. It…wasn’t my place.” He can tell it’s eating you up, having to grovel, but it’s making you wet too, he’d bet money on it. Steve reluctantly releases your shirt, and urges you to your shaky feet. Dimly, he can hear the murmur of the audience down the hallway, the feedback from the mic—but none of that matters. 

“Better. I like that one. Feels much more honest.” A sly grin spreads across his features as he slides down his zipper. “And honesty is such a praiseworthy trait.” 

You’re already wriggling out of those sinfully tight jeans, the left leg around your ankle when Steve scoops you up easily. You manage to finish kicking them off as he’s resting your ass on the vanity, his eyes dropping eagerly to the scrap of fabric covering your pussy. He was right, wetness glistens on your inner thighs, the crotch dark and slick with your want of him. Your eyes drop eagerly down to his cock, and Steve can’t help the sardonic chuckle that bubbles from his chest. 

“What was that you said? About seeing the shield up close?” He asks, fisting his cock with one large hand. You suck your lower lip between your teeth, looking away embarrassedly. “At least now you can honestly say he fucks. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” The knowing look on his face inspires a bashful one on yours. He doesn’t let you look away, though, dragging his fingers against the damp fabric covering your core. “You were curious, weren’t you, doll?”

“A-all of America’s curious, Steve.”

He snorts. “All of America didn’t call me frigid.” Your mouth opens as though you’re going to dispute it, but a look from him silences you. This is still a punishment, after all. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic band, and begins inching your panties down your thighs. His nostrils flare at the scent of you, his tongue drawing itself across his lips in anticipation. 

“I didn’t ah, shit—” Steve cuts off your protests by parting your sticky folds with an insistent finger. He can’t help but bring it to his lips, savoring you right from the source. You’re soaked already, slick, dewy wetness gathering at your entrance, all for him. 

“Doll, you are fucking soaked,” he mutters lowly, enjoying the hiss of air through your teeth. You whine sharply as he circles your clit slowly, hips jerking as he flicks against it with his thumb.  Your plump lips part in a delicate o as he slides a thick finger into the slick, clenching heat of your cunt, and your hands fly up to tangle in his cotton-t-shirt. He groans at the feel of you—hot, wet, tight, sucking eagerly at his fingers. 

Steve isn’t sure if he kissed you, or if you kissed him, but suddenly your, full lips are pressed against his, and he’s devouring every breathy exhalation and raspy plea. Fingers still slick with you, he smears your wetness against the head of his cock, a muffled curse leaving his lips as he slides against you. There’s a lull in the ambient noise from outside, but Steve can’t be bothered to wonder if the two of you have been caught, not when the aching head of his cock is pressing into the velvet tightness of your cunt.

The back of your head lands with a dull thud on the mirror as Steve slides home, the fingers of one hand knotted in his shirt as you brace the other against his massive shoulder. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan, there are tears in your lashes when you look up at him. “Steve, I-, fuck, I can’t—” He draws out slow before slamming home, turning your ragged plea to babble. 

“What d’you mean you can’t, sweetheart?” He pants, fingers digging into your hip as he drags your ass forward, bending your knees around his waist. Your eyes roll and you moan pathetically as he sinks in even deeper. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You were practically fucking begging for it on stage,” he snarls, laying into you with heavy thrusts that make you squeal and squirm against him. 

The mirror on the vanity rattles dangerously in its frame as he fucks you, the wood creaking and groaning underneath your bodies. He doesn’t care about that, though, not when you’re panting his name like a prayer as your pussy squeezes him like a fucking fist—

“Y-yes!” You’re practically sobbing with pleasure, eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stare embarrassedly up at him. 

“Oh doll,” he purrs, sinking into you with another wet squelch; “All you had to do was ask.” 

You’re so perfect inside, like smooth, hot velvet; Steve can’t get enough. He can’t remember what other punishment he had planned—probably more of a stern talking to than anything—but this is much better. You whining underneath him, begging him while he ruts into you is a more perfect ending to this than he could possibly have imagined. Your cunt flutters around him, your ragged, desperate moans ringing in his ears. 

“Come on and cum,” he growls the words against your damp throat, dragging his teeth against the bruise he knows will be there tomorrow. “Make a nice mess on my cock, sweetheart.” Steve reaches between you to press the pad of his thumb hard against your swollen clit. You keen, your legs trembling around his waist as your cunt grips him like a vice. 

Even if he’d wanted to, Steve can’t stop himself from cumming, driving himself in to the hilt as you milk him. Fireworks, supernovas explode behind his shut eyes as he presses his forehead against yours, holding you still while he empties himself into you. It’s almost primal, the need to make sure you get every last drop as his cock spends itself against your womb. 

When he finally does pull away, it’s to the sound of raucous applause echoing down the hallway. You’re panting a little, wiping sweat soaked strands of hair from your forehead with the back of your hand as Steve looks on. 

“I take it back,” you reply hoarsely after a moment. “You, sir, most definitely fuck. Your ability to take a joke however, is going to need some work.” 

Steve’s face heats, even as he quirks an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

You grin. “Yeah. It’s not like you can fuck me backstage at all my shows.” 

“Can’t I?” He asks, stepping forward to brace his hands around your hips. “I’m free most Saturday nights…” he trails off, and warm heat enters his belly at the sight of the slight smile playing at the edges of your lips. It’s a different kind of heat, though. Softer—but more intimate, maybe.

“Unless you’re saving the world,” you reply, cocking your head as you loop your own arms around the back of his neck. 

“Unless I’m saving the world.” He agrees. 

“Well, then, Mr. Rogers,” you say, poking one finger into the hard muscle of his chest. “I guess I’ll see you at curtain.”   

fin

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #cevans #chris evans #boxofbonesfic #Last Laugh fic

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Slipping Through my Fingers (1)

Summary: When a married woman catches the eye of Bucky Barnes, he is determined to stop at nothing to get to know her better.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Not Beta’d.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summer 1940

It was the summer of 1940. James Buchannan “Bucky” Barnes was 23 and one of Brooklyn's finest. Between his 6-foot stature, steel blue eyes, carefully styled umber locks, and charming smile the man never had trouble scoring a date. Hanging out with his scrawny banana haired best friend, Steve Rogers, only made him look better. Despite Bucky only being a year older, the contrast was too great to ignore. The war had yet to reach the United States. James was on top of the world.

“Run Buck!”

In the distance, laughter echoed off of the row of homes. Children danced in the street, jumping between puddles that gushed from the fire hydrant. The liquid ran like a river where the street met the sidewalk. That hadn’t been enough to stop the guys from playing baseball.

Water splashed beneath Bucky’s tennis shoes soaking the bottom of his trousers. He nearly reached the foreign object used for third base when the ball whipped past his head landing in the glove of the man on third base. Out! Bucky traded his quick steps for a slower pace. Passing third base, Bucky came to a halt, a glove outstretched in his direction.

“I told you to run,” Steve snarked, sitting on the step outside of his front door.

Bucky snatched the glove from his friend with a huff. He wanted to tell Steve to try to outrun the ball, but he knew the blonde wouldn’t be able to outrun it, not in this heat. Steve’s asthma would have taken him out before anyone could even tag him. It was the reason Steve was spectating the game rather than playing.

“Whatever. What’s the score?"

Steve reached beside him cranking up the hand radio. Bucky used the end of his once white undershirt to wipe the sweat adoring his forehead. Soaked in water and sweat, the shirt was nearly see through in the sweltering heat.

The crackle of the radio announced the Brooklyn Doger’s lead as Bucky slid the glove over his left hand. Steve leaned back on one hand, his other shielding his eyes as he stared up at Bucky. “At least someone is winning.”

Bucky scoffed, tapping his friend in the shoulder with his gloved hand. Steve wobbled slightly, losing his balance.

“One day, we're gonna get you in a game and I’m gonna kick your ass,” Bucky teased, turning to find his team in the outfield waiting for him. The inning was over.

“Worry about this game first,” Steve laughed. When Bucky didn’t move or reply with a snarky comment Steve jabbed him in the ribs. “What’s going on with you?”

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman across the street. She had come out of nowhere and demanded his attention. Her hair bounced with each step she took. The A-line shirtwaist dress flattered her figure; the skirt flowing with each step forward. 

“Now that’s a woman,” Bucky gawked.

Following Bucky’s gaze, Steve frowned. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s freshly married.”

“And out of your league,” one of Bucky’s teammates joked.

Shrugging off the comment, Bucky side-eyed Steve. “How do you know?” Bucky found it hard to believe Steve had talked to the woman. Steve was awkward around women. He was constantly putting his foot in his mouth.

Steve shrugged, wiping some gravel from his palms. Casually Steve replied, “She volunteered with my ma before she died. Y/N sends me medicine sometimes.”

Steve was an orphan. Steve’s mother Sarah died back in 1936 and his father even earlier. They both died working. His father Joseph died during World War I due to mustard gas. Similarly, Steve’s mother had been a nurse in the tuberculosis ward and became sick. Y/N had been good friends with his mother, and she continued to look after him when his mother passed. She always made sure Steve had the medicine he needed. She was good.

Suddenly Bucky whirled on Steve, “A pretty little thing like that has been bringing you medicine all of these years and you never told me?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t need you scaring her off.”

Bucky crossed his arms; his muscles would be threatening to anyone else, but Steve knew better. He had grown up with Bucky long enough to know Bucky would never throw the first punch. James Barnes was a lover. Any girl in Brooklyn could attest to that. He only fought when he had to or when he was defending someone else. He defended Steve many times but outside of brotherly fights, he never laid his hand on him.

“Introduce me,” Bucky demanded.

Steve frowned, “What? No. She’s smitten with her husband anyway.”

Steve could have sworn he saw a mischievous glint in Bucky’s eye but chose not to say anything. Bucky would deny it anyway.

“Then it won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but your ego will be bruised, and I’ll have to hear about it for the next year.”

Ignoring Steve, Bucky walked into the middle of the street calling out to the batter. “Send the next one to me.” The batter pointed the bat at Bucky, acknowledging him. Bucky ran to the opposite side of the street hovering by second base.

CRACK.

The ball soared in the air slightly out of Bucky’s reach. Had he tried, he would have caught the ball, but some things were more important than winning a game. Bucky intended to win at life. Timing it perfectly, Bucky stumbled backwards pretending to go after the ball.

A yelp cried out followed by a thud. Home run Bucky thought, catching himself before he tripped over her. Still standing, Bucky twisted his torso to peep down at the woman on her knees before him. The corner of his lip twitched upward. The items she had been carrying scattered across the pavement.

Steve shook his head watching the scene unfold before him. It wasn’t news to him, but his friend was shameless.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I wasn’t paying attention,” Bucky apologize. Before she could reply Bucky was crouching down to help her pick up her objects. He had seen Steve’s medicine enough to recognize the contents on the sidewalk.

Y/N sent him a soft smile. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to walk by an active play.”

Bucky hummed, handing her the last of her items before offering his hand to help her up. With a small thank you, Y/N accepted his hand.

“I’m James but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Y/N.”

Bucky grinned, shaking her right hand. Wrapped around her brown paper bag was her left hand. The small diamond on her ring finger was enough to catch his eye. Nodding to the ring he asked, “Is your husband around to help you carry that?”

Y/N shook her head, yanking her hand back. “No. He’s working. I was just dropping this off to a friend anyway.”

“Can I help? It’s the least I can do after knocking you over.”

Y/N eyed the man searching for any reason to distrust him. Shaking her head she replied, “It’s okay. I’m actually just going across the street.”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow jabbing his thumb in his friend’s direction. “Bringin’ that to Steve?”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as she peered over his shoulder at the blonde sitting on the steps. He sent her a shy wave and she responded with a wave of her own. Cutting her eye to Bucky, she asked, “You’re Steve’s friend?”

Bucky rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Best pal,” he beamed with an award-winning smile. Being associated with Steve had never won Bucky the attention of a woman before. Some women fawned over how he looked after Steve, but no one had bothered to care about Steve. Y/N cared about Steve.

“Well Bucky, any friend of Steve is a friend of mine.”

Bucky’s grin deepened and without missing a beat, he transferred the bag into his own arms. Nodding in Steve’s direction, he motioned for Y/N to follow him. Holding the bag in one hand, he extended his other arm to support her as she stepped over the puddle. He expected her to release his forearm immediately, but she clung to his arm using it once again to step back onto the sidewalk once they reached Steve.

Nerves set in as Y/N passed the men waiting around to play baseball. Usually, it wouldn’t bother her but since they were waiting for Bucky to return, there was nothing for them to do but stare. Steve never mentioned having friends, so Bucky alone had been a surprise, but enough friends to play baseball really threw her a curveball.

“Special delivery for one punk,” Bucky mocked, plopping the bag beside Steve. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at the look of horror on Steve’s face as Y/N walked beside him. He didn’t expect Bucky to actually befriend her.

“Thanks Y/N,” Steve mumbled.

“Steve,” Y/N scolded. “You never mentioned your friends.”

Steve's face twisted into a grimace. He didn’t want to correct her and embarrass himself, but she already thought he had no friends, and he was honest. “Friend,” he nodded at Bucky. “The rest are Bucky’s friends.” The sympathetic expression that crossed her face had Steve burying his head in the bag. He didn’t want the pity. He pulled medicine from the bag pretending to inspect the labels.

“I’m your friend Steve,” Y/N whispered.

Steve shook his head, “You were my ma’s friend.”

Bucky cringed at the words. Steve may have missed the way Y/N flinched, but Bucky didn’t. While Steve talked to Y/N, it seemed she wasn’t the exception when it came to Steve putting his foot in his mouth.

“That’s not fair Steve. I don’t do this for your mother, I do it for you. I don’t have many friends either.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak but Bucky slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “Well, now we're friends. Steve didn’t mean it doll; the heat is jus’ gettin’ to ‘im. He’s been sassy all day.”

The two men held a silent face off, glaring at one another. Steve didn’t need Bucky to scare her away, Steve would push her away all on his own if he kept it up. Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve would have apologized the next time he saw her. He was just pushing her away to get her to leave so Bucky couldn't sink his hooks into her. Instead, all Steve did was push her under his arm.

Faking a wave, Steve fanned himself dramatically. “Bucky’s right. I didn’t mean it Y/N. I appreciate your friendship, really.” When Y/N relaxed under Bucky’s arm Steve asked, “How’s married life? You look good. Happy.”

Blushing Y/N ducked under Bucky’s arm, smoothing the skirt of her dress before sitting beside Steve. “I am happy, really happy actually.”

Steve gave Bucky a smug grin fishing the baseball that had gotten lost in the bag out, tossing it into his chest. Bucky swiftly caught the ball with a huff. “Thanks for the delivery, Buck. I think the guys need their player back.” He pointed at the crowd that had gathered in the street.

Bucky grumbled as Steve turned the radio up slightly. The announcer mocking him, “He struck out!” Bucky wished he could reach over and wipe the smug grin off of his friend’s face, but Bucky reminded himself, a world series wasn’t won based on one game. Baseball was a long game and Bucky was in it for the long haul. She demanded his attention and now he would demand hers.

Game on. 

Steve swore he never saw Bucky play a better game after that. Bucky hit every ball pitched to him, he caught every ball sent his way, sometimes he caught ones that he was nowhere nearby. Bucky was well built; he was athletic but even on his best day he didn’t care as much as he did in that moment. He was showing off.

Firsts were important in a relationship, the first kiss, the first I love yous, the first home, the first year in a marriage. Eight months. That was all it took for Y/N and Harry to have their first fight.

Y/N had met Harry at the ripe age of 17. As a military brat, Harry’s family moved around a lot, but for a while, they were neighbors. With an unstable environment, the army was Harry’s only constant. It was all he knew, so it was no surprise when he joined the army alongside his father. It wasn’t until after his father passed that Harry returned to Brooklyn. It wasn’t long after he reunited with Y/N that he asked her on a date. He hadn’t returned to the military since.

Y/N had lived in Brooklyn her entire life. It was her home and for the first 8 months of their marriage, Harry accepted that it was his home too. But once the birds stopped chirping, the air grew chilly, and the dark skies started approaching faster, the honeymoon phase was over. The harvest was here, and Harry would be plucked from their home.

“I have to go,” Harry mumbled. His hand rubbed circles along his wife’s back. It wasn’t enough to stop the tears from splashing on their comforter.

Y/N’s jaw wobbled, the image of her husband blurry though her tears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to be crying in the same place they made love.

“You don’t have to,” she croaked. He wanted to. There’s a difference.

Harry brushed a few strands of his thick chestnut locks from his face. “I do,” he insisted. He grasped the sides of her head pressing a harsh kiss along her hairline. With a deep exhale he whispered against her forehead, “You could come with me.”

Y/N shoved his chest. “And live jumping from place to place?” She shook her head. “Brooklyn is my home, Harry. My life is here. I don’t want uncertainty; I want to settle down in Brooklyn and grow old with you by my side.”

Harry frowned. They had never talked about Harry returning to the army. Y/N had always assumed that part of Harry had died along with his father. Harry wasn’t sure where he stood when it came to the military but when one of his friends serving wrote about a rumor that the United States might be joining the war, he knew he couldn’t let his men face it alone. He re-enlisted. Y/N wouldn’t understand.

“I’m doing this for us,” Harry argued.

It paid the bills and put food on the table.

Y/N scoffed, jabbing her finger into his chest. “No, Harry, you’re doing this for you.”

Rising from the bed, Harry slammed his fist against the wall. “I asked you to come with me.”

“Only after you had already enlisted. You didn’t even discuss it with me.”

Harry cautiously stepped forward, careful not to scare Y/N. When she didn’t move, he enveloped her in his arms. She let him. Her tears stained his button-down shirt as he whispered a string of apologies.

Eventually, Y/N broke physically and mentally. The reality of their situation settled in. She didn’t want to spend what little time they had left fighting. Her arms wrapped around his waist, trying to memorize the feel of her husband. Silently, she imprinted his voice into her brain as if it was the last time she would ever see him. Maybe it was.

Clutching the front of his shirt, she leaned up pressing a soft kiss against his neck. Again and again. Harry stuttered before falling silent. In his silence he could hear her pleas between each kiss, her lips reaching just under his jaw.

Harry pinched her chin drawing her lips to his own. The kiss was slow as if they were learning how to kiss one another. This wasn’t a first kiss though. First kisses were reserved for hellos and just as important as firsts were, so were lasts. This was a last kiss; it was goodbye.

Harry licked his lips as he pulled away. It wasn’t until the salty tang reached his taste buds that he realized he had been crying. Reminding himself it wasn’t forever, he stroked Y/N’s hair.

“I have to do this, Y/N. Big things are coming."

Next Chapter

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #40s bucky x reader #40s!bucky x reader #40s bucky #40s!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fic

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 24

Part 24: Revelations

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, activities, domestic violence, and infidelity. Graphic violence, threats, and intimidation. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soldier that greeted them on arrival was one of Steve’s. They all were. But many of them had worked for Banner for a few years now and he didn’t see them often. Bruce was always called to his house.

Whoever the guard was didn’t have the best poker face. Maybe the concern that he didn’t conceal before Steve saw it was because Clint was there at Bruce Banner’s home. Maybe it was because it was a rare occasion that even brought Steve there to begin with.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered maybe that was part of the problem.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked when Steve powered his window down.

Steve nodded. “I’m here to see my sister.”

The man nodded, hesitated.

“Is there a problem?” Steve wanted to know.

“No, sir.”

Clint parked the Jeep right there in front of the manor, shut off the engine.

“What’re you doing?” Dyson grumbled from the front passenger seat.

“I’m going,” Clint to told them in no uncertain terms.

Something was very off. Steve felt it in his gut. His gaze met Clint’s in the rearview mirror. He nodded his approval. Dyson’s deep sigh was his only answer to that.

The three of them climbed out of the Jeep, made their way to the front door of Banner’s home. Another soldier greeted them, looking as concerned as the first.

A familiar maid approached them from within the house. The older lady’s red hair was a shade lighter than Nat’s, her pale hands wringing in front of her. Her gaze was locked on Steve, and she motioned for him to follow.

“Let’s me and you stay here,” Dyson said meaningfully to Clint.

Steve nodded his agreement before following the maid into the house. When she passed the door of the bedroom his sister shared with her husband, Steve paused. The maid didn’t stop, leading him instead to a guest room in another wing.

His anxiety rose when the woman opened the door and led him in. What was Nat doing in there?

She left Steve standing in that bedroom as she dashed to the bathroom door. He heard his sister’s murmured voice, the sound of splashing water. It sounded like Nat had been taking a bath.

His heart sped up to see the maid walking his sister out of the bathroom, looking small in that dark green bathrobe. Nat was slumped into the woman’s side, her gait unsteady.

What the fuck had Banner done?

The woman helped Nat take a seat on the end of the bed. When she moved to get comfortable, the part in the robe showed him a deep, ugly bruise on her thigh. Smaller bruises decorated her calf, the pattern suggested someone had grabbed that leg hard.

His fists clenched in the pockets of his overcoat.

His sister didn’t immediately notice him. When she did, her green eyes widened in fear. Tears pooled there and her lower lips trembled as she whispered, “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve’s heart cracked as he joined her on the bed, pulling her against him. His sister’s arms slid around him, and she burrowed into him, the tears coming on. He held her, cursing himself to hell and back for not coming sooner.

“Hey,” he said after a few minutes.

There were no marks on her face, and it was telling. Pattern abusers tended to hide their handiwork. The way she moved. Pain.

“I fought with him,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have kept it going… I shouldn’t have…”

She was shaking her head, her body was shaking just talking about it, and Steve stopped her with a hand on her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he promised her, battling back the storm of guilt and anger building inside his chest. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean…”

To her maid, Steve said, “Can we get her dressed? Something comfortable and warm.”

Nat shook her head, fear in her face. “I can’t. I—”

“You can’t walk out of here in your bathrobe,” he said gently. “You’re coming home with me.”

The maid’s expression was approval, and she sprang into motion, finding a pair of flannel pajamas. When he got up so the maid could help her get dressed, Nat grabbed his arm. Panic lit up her eyes.

“I’m not leaving you,” he promised her. And he didn’t. He stayed there in the room with his back turned, pulling out his phone to find a text from Dyson.

Dyson: She ok, boss?

Steve couldn’t even type right now. His hands were shaking. It was all he could do to stay calm, but he could do it for his sister. He could keep control until he got her home, ensured she was safe.

When the maid let him know she was dressed, he turned to find Nat wearing the pajamas beneath the coat. Thick socks and bed slippers covered her feet.

Steve shook his head. While nothing appeared to be broken, it would be easy to assume that her injuries weren’t as bad as that other incident, Nat seemed frail, defeated. That more than anything tore at his heart. The maid eased her forward a step, but Steve shook his head.

Scooping her up, Steve carried his sister out of the room, back for the front door. Anger at himself for not paying more attention preyed on his mind as he made his way through the house. He’d been so focused on taking the lead he’d lost track of everything else. Even his own family.

Why hadn’t he listened to Dyson? To his wife?

Steve didn’t know yet just how far Banner had gone. He just knew he’d fucking deal with the bastard.

If his wife didn’t get to him first.

“Oh, God,” Clint whispered when Steve reached him and Dyson. So much emotion flashed in his man’s blue eyes when his gaze landed on Nat.

Dyson’s gaze mirrored the anger Steve felt. “Let’s go.”

With no interference from the men guarding Banner’s house, Steve carried her out into the cold Boston morning.  

“Steve, thank you,” she whispered, and the words nearly broke him.

“Hush,” he soothed her. “We’re going to take care of you.”

“He’s so angry,” she went on as Clint pulled open the door.

“So am I,” Steve assured her.

Clint helped Steve get Nat in the back of the Jeep, his heart in his eyes as he took in the broken figure of the woman he loved. It had Steve feeling like an even bigger asshole. The man loved his sister. The way he handled her like she as precious was all Steve saw. The hope Clint’s presence put on Nat’s face nearly brought him to tears.

“Stay back here with her,” Steve bid him.

Nat curled around Clint in the back of the Jeep as Steve shut the door, taking shotgun. Dyson had already climbed into the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Get us home,” Steve ordered, nearly choking on his rage as Dyson started the Jeep.

***

You had just taken Yelena’s tray back to the kitchen when you heard the commotion. Yelling.

What was this?

Steve had taken Dyson and Clint to go check on Nat and you’d been waiting for them to return. You were hoping Nat was okay and that whatever infamous fight she’d had with her husband hadn’t resulted in her being hurt or…

You could make out an angry male voice towards the front of house. You didn’t think it was Steve and you braced yourself. Was Steve upset with Nat? Had trouble started?

Luca had gone on a grocery run so the kitchen was empty. With a sigh, you set the tray down on the counter and headed in that direction to see what was going on.

The person yelling in your living room was not who you expected. Bruce Banner’s expression was pure rage and color darkened his face. Neal stood in front of him speaking but so quietly you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“No!” Bruce shouted. “The fucker is on his way here with my wife, right? I’m waiting right fucking here.”

You didn’t know if your husband or Clint was the fucker in question, but one hell of a fight was brewing. You didn’t trust Neal any further than you could throw him.

You’d taken exactly one step in that direction when someone else stepped in your path. Scott held up a hand to pause you.

“Mrs. Rogers, it might be best if you went back upstairs. Stay with Belova,” he said carefully. “It might get ugly down here.”

Scott was a good man and you trusted him. But no way you were sitting this one out.

“I’m sure it would,” you told him. “But no, I’m not doing that.”

The soldier sighed deeply. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would. Just… stay behind me, okay?”

You nodded, following Scott into the living room where Banner looked ready to implode at any moment. When his gaze moved past Neal to you, Steve’s other soldier spun around to see you coming. Neal rolled his eyes.

“Mrs. Rogers, you got no business being here,” Neal said curtly.

“My brother-in-law is here,” you were equally short. “I think I do.”

To Bruce you asked, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Bruce was incredulous. “Your fucking husband just showed up at my house, with Clint fucking Barton, and took my wife while I was gone. Took her right the fuck out of there. He had no right. No right!”

Neal stepped away, pulling out his phone and typing furiously. You darted around Scott and took Neal’s place in front of Banner. Scott stayed close.

“That doesn’t sound like something Steve would do.” It really didn’t. “Not without cause.”

“Cause?” Banner ranted. “Let’s talk about cause. My wife, his sister, is making a fucking fool out of me! With Barton. Everyone knows that. We ended up in a fight. It’s between us. Our fight. Our marriage.”

You held his gaze, staring him down. The anger he displayed on the surface was just a mask you realized, a façade to hide his insecurities, his hurt. His cowardice.

“That’s why you fought?” you asked.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Bruce asked loudly.

“He’s on his way back here,” Neal announced, reading his phone.

“He fucking well better be,” Banner muttered. “And my wife better be with him. He needs to explain himself. He had no right.”

“Didn’t he?” you asked, studying him. “Steve is your boss. He doesn’t owe you an explanation for anything. And Nat is his sister, his blood. He has a right to be concerned about her welfare.”

“Oh, she’s well,” he went on. “Well enough to step out on me. In my own fucking house. In my own fucking bed! Do you know how bad that looks for someone in my position? And everyone has a problem with me?”

“You’re very defensive right now,” you pointed out.

“You fucking would be too,” Bruce told you angrily. “You will be. Once the newness wears off, Steve will do it to you too. Then you come back here and fucking lecture me about being defensive!”

“We’ll see.” You were going to react to that. It might have been a fear you harbored but you weren’t about to give him that. “I know that’s what your girlfriend and her sister would like to believe.”

The shock that you brought that up faded from his expression fast. More color seeped up from his collar.

“If Nat had been my loyal, loving wife,” Bruce bit out, “I wouldn’t ever have given Paulina a second glance. I’m not like that. I’m not like your husband. That’s what makes this so goddamn funny. He has a lot of nerve jumping into my business when he’s just like his sister. Disloyal whores. Both of them!”

The inference that your husband would cheat, or had cheated, pissed you off. It was meant to. It was all you could not to take the bait as your anger rose.

Neal stood by passively, watching and listening. Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting you?

Scott’s hand on your shoulder was calm. “Okay, the boss will be here any minute. Why don’t you head upstairs, ma’am?”

Scott tried. You were aware of it and appreciated it on some level.

“No, I’ll wait here,” you told him, not taking your eyes off Bruce. “And I’ll tell you something, Bruce.” You pitched your voice low, spoke slowly through your fury. “It’s better to be a whore than abusive. What did you do to Nat?”

“She had it coming!” Bruce yelled. “She hasn’t even begun to get what she deserved. And if Steve was smart, he’d reign you in the same way.”

“That’s enough,” Scott said, trying to pull you back from the confrontation.

“Excuse me?” You were livid.

“You heard me.” Bruce grinned, pleased at your reaction.

Scott pulled you back a step. Taking a menacing step closer to you, Bruce pointed a finger.

“Wait. Did you put him up to this?” Bruce demanded. “You and Nat talk, right? I know all about you helping her go see Barton at the hospital. Did you do this? Did you?”

As much as you’d like to take credit for making Steve think about his sister’s welfare, you couldn’t. Slowly, you shook your head.

“I don’t fucking believe you!” Bruce yelled.

Like a vision from a nightmare, Bruce lifted a hand. You saw it coming. Someone blocked the blow before it could reach you as Scott yanked you sharply back. Quicker than you could think, Yelena had grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back until he yelled furiously.

A beat later, the front door burst open, and your husband marched from the foyer into the living room to take in the scene. His blue-eyed gaze moved over you frantically. Once he realized you weren’t hurt, he looked to Bruce, fists clenched at his sides.

Only then did Neal move to assist Yelena but she glared at him as she kept Bruce in what looked like a painful grip.

“I’ve got it,” she told him flatly.

“Hold him,” Steve bid her.

Yelena did more than that even though it was obvious she wasn’t feeling well. Kicking the backs of his knees, she took Bruce down to his in front of Steve. And if you thought Bruce looked angry? The anger that appeared to be consuming your husband far eclipsed it.

“You fucking threaten my wife?” Steve demanded, crouching to get in Bruce’s face. “In my home? How fucking dare you? Especially after what you did my sister.”

Bruce looked concerned about his current situation but apparently wasn’t smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Your sister has been sleeping around on me,” Bruce managed through the obvious pain as Yelena held him. “And you bring the whore’s boyfriend to my house? And drag her out like you’re a fucking hero?”

Grabbing a handful of Bruce’s salt and pepper curls, Steve held his head still with one hand and punched him in the face hard with the other. Then he did it again and again as you watched. Blood ran from Bruce’s nose from the blows

Dyson rushed towards you at that. “You don’t need to be down here seeing this,” he told you.

You resisted his attempts to pull you away. “I want to see this.”

“Nat needs you,” Steve said without taking his eyes off the man at the center of his fury. “Neal, Belova, let’s take this somewhere else.”

“Fuck you!” Bruce yelled as Yelena started moving him to the front door and Neal finally moved to help deal with your irate brother-in-law. “Fuck you, your whore sister, and your fucking whore wife!”

They were dragging him off. Dyson and Scott each had a hold on you, trying to pull you away from the scene.

You’d never seen Steve so upset. But before he rushed off after them, he stopped and took your face in his shaking hands.

“I want to watch,” you let him know forcefully.

“I know,” he told you in a barely controlled voice. “But Luca’s helping Clint bring Nat in through the kitchen. I really don’t want her to see or hear any of this. I need you to look after her. For me.”

Getting a grip on your anger, you nodded. You didn’t know what happened to Nat but apparently it was serious. If she needed you, you’d be there.

“Lang, stay here,” Steve ordered.

“You’ve got it, boss.”

Before Steve could release your face, you told him, “Fuck him up.”

Letting go of you, your husband nodded before he spun around and headed back the way he came to deal with his brother-in-law, his own lawyer.

“Come on,” Dyson drew your attention away from that to lead you back into the house with Scott on your heels.

You followed him up the stairs, to Nat’s old bedroom. When Dyson opened the door for you, it revealed Nat on her old bed with Clint positioning pillows behind her. Luca was heading for the door, looking as distraught as you felt.

“I’m getting doc over here,” Luca told you, rushing by.

Sitting by her on the bed, Clint took one of her hands. When they both noticed you, they shared the same look of apprehension. You took a seat on her other side.

“Nat, what happened?” you wanted to know.

Your sister-in-law looked curled in on herself and weak. Still, she tried to smile even with tears coming on.

“Bruce is here, isn’t he?” she asked fearfully.

Looking from her to Clint, you nodded. “Steve’s dealing with him.”

Clint shook his head.

“She’s not going back to him,” he told you, blinking back tears. “I don’t care what has to happen.”

“No, she won’t,” you told him with the same determination. Your heart went out to him. He’d stayed loyal to Steve, even when he’d married his sister to another man. Even though you knew it wasn’t the first time Nat had endured something like this.

“Bruce will calm down,” Nat explained fearfully. “He’ll convince Steve it was m-my fault. He’ll… send me back. He’ll…”

“He will not,” you promised her. “You are never going back to him.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Clint told you meaningfully.

“The hell I can’t.” If your husband even thought about sending his sister back to the monster he’d married her to, you make him regret it every single day for the rest of his life.

But somehow, you didn’t think you had anything to worry about. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Steve yet with everything going on. But instinct told you Steve had finally realized the truth of his sister’s situation.

“Luca’s calling our doctor,” you told them. “How badly are you hurt?”

It was hard to keep calm as you watched her shaking hands reach for the hem of her flannel pajama top. She’d barely lifted it when you saw the cluster of wild purple bruises covering her ribs and abdomen.

“Fuck,” Clint muttered, blinking back tears. “That fucking bastard. I’ll kill him. I swear…”

You understood. You wanted to kill him too. But right now, Nat was more important.

Gently easing her top back down, your hand covered hers.

“Don’t worry about all this now,” you said as soothingly as you could. “You’re safe.”

“But Steve…”

“Steve brought you home,” you said with feeling. “You’ll recover here, and you’ll be with Clint where you should have been all along. That’s all you need to be concerned with right now.”

Clint clasped her other hand. The look that passed between them nearly broke your heart. Hope.

You swore to yourself at that moment that they would be together.

***

You found Steve later in his study. His elbows were planted on the desk, his head in his hands. An empty glass was on the desk next to him.

You closed the study door behind you. His black robe was warm over your own pajamas as you walked to his desk, capturing his attention.

Your husband looked tired, and you noticed his knuckles were cut and scabbed over. Lowering his hands to the desk, he sighed.

“How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Six broken ribs,” you told him. “So many bruises… Doc gave her something for the pain. He’s coming back to check on her tomorrow.”

Nodding, Steve motioned you over to him, pulled you onto his lap when you made it around the desk.

“How is he?” you wanted to know.

“Pretty fucking sorry,” Steve told you, tracing a finger down your cheek. “He lost everything today. His position, his wife…”

You knew your surprise showed on your face. “Did he?”

Steve nodded. “He’s lucky I let him live. If I ever see him again, he won’t be. After what he did to her. After all the lies he told me.”

He meant it, you could tell. So much pain and regret in his face, his eyes. Your heart swelled with hope as you sat in the quiet of his office, letting him hold you.

“What happens now?” you wondered. “Nat is so afraid you’ll send her back to him.”

Steve shook his head. It was a long moment before he spoke. When he did, he didn’t meet your gaze.

“I let her down,” he said quietly. “For the last few years, I’ve been so focused on what I wanted… I didn’t pay enough attention to anything else.” When his gaze met yours, the raw guilt made you flinch. “What if he’d killed her? What he did was bad enough but…”

“It was bad.” You slid your fingers through his hair. “But she’ll recover. If you let her have what she’s always wanted, she’ll recover faster.”

“You know why I did that,” your husband told you. “Clint is still a soldier.”

“Then make him something else,” you said more forcefully than you intended. “Hasn’t he proven himself? To her and to you?”

“Dyson thinks so too.” Steve sighed. “The problem is… Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve done everything to take your father’s place. To take the lead and now…”

You just waited, listened.

“Now here I am. I married my sister to an abusive asshole. My people and turf are under siege. My own home was attacked, and my wife had to shoot someone to defend it… Right now, I have to accept that I’m failing. I’m not your father. I don’t have his instincts… I don’t.”

It was the last thing you would have expected your husband to say. You know exactly how hard he’d worked to be where he was.

But knowing that underneath it all he cared? Your heart clenched.

“Maybe my father had good instincts for this, Steve,” you said slowly. “But he didn’t run the families alone. And you’re not alone either.”

“I’m not.” His gaze locked with yours. “But my heart really can’t take you being in the line of fire, sweetheart. Last night you shot Hansen today you’re squaring up to Banner. This is serious. I can’t worry about you being hurt…”

“I was looked after,” you told him, raising your chin.

“Belova has some skills,” Steve admitted. “She showed me that today. But I need to keep you safe, and I need you to accept that.”

“Maybe I’d be more accepting of that if you’d listen to me once in a while,” you countered. “I was right about Nat’s situation. Dyson and Luca think I have my father’s instincts.”

Steve studied you so seriously. “Maybe they’re right… Doesn’t mean I want you to continue training with weapons.”

Yeah, you realized that cat was out of the bag. As long as that was all he knew…  

“We’ll figure it all out,” he assured you. “Thank you for taking care of Nat. She and I will talk tomorrow when she's rested.”

Capturing his hand, you pressed kisses on his injured knuckles. You had to wonder what Bruce looked like now from the looks of that.

“You should rest,” you whispered. “Come to bed.”

A corner of Steve’s mouth tipped up at that. “What’s this? My wife finally approving of how I handled a situation?”

“I don’t know enough details to say I approve yet,” you informed him, and he smiled. “Let’s rest. I’m sure you have a lot to deal with tomorrow.”

Steve nodded. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours. The brush of them was soft, soothing.

@valsworldofcreativity

@21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @buckybarnesplumwhorere @bval-11 @caffiend-queenend-queen @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebastianstanstuff @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lok1sgrl @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @marvelouspottering @maxwelllee2020 @nannies-dont-date @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-000 @supernaturaldean677 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellevi @vitamingummies @weebid @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks

#Hia Inheritance #Mafia au #Steve Rogers #Natasha Banner #Bruce Banner #Yelena Belova #Scott Lang #Clint Barton

[fandomgirlz01]

MTV Yearbook Challenge Pt. 1

Jack Champion X Reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 6,125 (oops 😬 I got a little carried away…) 

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here.

Post Date: August 29th 2023

Post Time: 11:07 PM

Summary: The young cast of Avatar play MTVs yearbook challenge and some very interesting questions get debated between them, as well as Jack and the Reader’s relationship being made fun of. 

Third Person Pov:

“Y/n!” You hear a voice shout, making you turn around and the person who was doing your makeup sighs. 

“I guess that means she's done,” the makeup person mutters as she walks off, shaking her head. 

“Trini girl!” you shout back when you see Trinity run into the room. 

She runs into your arms and you quickly wrap your arms around her. You squeeze her tightly and hold onto her for a moment before letting go. 

“Look how much you’ve grown. How have you grown so much in a year?” You ask in bewilderment as you look over the younger girl and she grins. 

“I know, right. Where’s Jack, did you guys come together?” she wonders as she looks around for him. 

“He is, he just had to run to the bathroom. He drank way too much water on the way here,” You explain to her, rolling your eyes and she laughs. 

“Well hello, you two. Haven’t seen you guys in some time,” comes another voice and you turn to see Bailey smiling. 

“Bailey!” Trinity shouts when she sees her. 

“Hi, Trinity. My, how big you’ve grown,” Bailey parrots you without knowing and you laugh along with Trinity.  

“What?” Bailey asks as she gives you both a questioning look. 

“I just said that. It’s crazy, right? I feel like she’s grown so much since we last saw her,” You tell her and she nods in agreement. 

“She definitely has. Trinity, stop growing so fast,” Bailey jokes, making Trinity laugh. 

“I would if I could,” Trinity tells her, making both older girls laugh. 

“Hello, ladies,” another voice breaks through the laughter and you all look to see Jamie walk in. 

“Am I the only guy today?” Jamie asks as he looks at all of you. 

“No. Jack’s here, too. Y/n said he just had to run to the bathroom. Apparently he drank too much water on the way here,” Trinity explains though her own giggles and Jamie’s face shows relief. 

“Sounds like something Jack would do…” Jamie comments and you giggle, nodding. 

“Right?” You playfully ask like you're shocked. 

“Would it have been so bad being around just us girls?” Bailey asks in a joking tone and Jamie shakes his head. 

“No. It just would have been a little lonely being the only boy. You guys know I love you,” Jamie tells you and you all hum at him as you each give him a side eye. 

“Sorry to interrupt, I’m Roger, I'm the one running the interview today,” A man who looks like he’s in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, introduces himself. 

“We’re just about ready to start. You all have been microphoned, right?” he asks and you all smile, nodding. 

“Ok. Then if we can all take a seat, we can get started in a few minutes,” Roger tells you and you all nod before heading over to the chairs. 

“Umm, sir, we are missing one person actually. He went to the bathroom,” You tell him as you sit down and he nods. 

“We can wait for another minute and if he is not back yet, we can send someone to find him,” Roger explains and you nod. 

“So y/n, how’s life?” Bailey asks and you smile. 

“It’s good. Really good. You?” You ask her and she smiles back. 

“I mean, it’s a little crazy right now, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Bailey tells you and you smile. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Bay,” You tell her and she reaches across Trinity to squeeze your hand. 

“Hey, babe,” Jack greets as he walks back into the room and kisses your cheek lightly before he takes the seat to the left of you. 

“Hi, honey,” you reply with a smile when you see him. 

“Ok. Everyone here now?” Roger asks from his seat behind the monitor. 

“Yes. We can start now if you’re ready?” You politely question and he smiles, giving a small nod. 

“Ok. Let’s start left to right, just introducing ourselves and who you play in the movie,” Roger informs you all and everyone nods. 

“Hello everyone, I’m Jamie Flatters. I play Neteyam,” Jamie introduces himself with a smile. 

“Hi. I’m Trinity Jo-Li Bliss, I play Tuk,” Trinity introduces herself next with a small wave. 

“Hello. I’m Bailey Bass and I play Tsireya,” Bailey introduces herself with a smile. 

“Hi. I’m y/n Dayton, or as some fans like to call me, I’m y/n Champion. I play Chickadee or Sietsla Te which is her official Navi name, even though she’s like Spider,” You introduce yourself with a smile and a small wave. 

“And I’m Jack Champion, I play Spider,” Jack introduces himself with a smirk that makes you shake your head at him. 

“Ok. I’m going to ask you all a series of ‘who’s most likely to’ questions. You just answer who you think would out of your cast members,” Roger explains and we all nod. 

“Do you mean like the whole cast or just the younger cast?” You question for clarity and Roger looks up at you. 

“Either one. I’d say out of the cast that’s here, but you can say anyone if you’d like,” Roger clarifies and you nod in understanding. 

“Ok, first question. Who’s most likely to have everyone laughing on set?” Roger asks and you smile. 

“Jack…” Bailey says before you can say anything and you turn to her. 

“No, cause I was going to say the same thing,” You retort at her and she grins. 

“Great minds think alike,” she comments with a small shrug and you giggle before sitting back. 

“I was gonna say Trinity,” Jack adds his thoughts as he leans forward to look at her. 

“Wait, huh?” Trinity asks as she looks at him. 

“Jack…” Bailey adds on again to make her point known as she points at him with her thumb. 

“Me?” Jack asks in confusion and you laugh, looking at him. 

“Yes, babe. You,” You tell him as you pat his arm and he just looks even more confused. 

“I laughed more at… you just… you make, like you…” Bailey struggles to explain.

“That’s actually beautiful that you're shocked at it, man. It shows that you're a very humble comedian,” Jamie jumps in as he looks at Jack. 

“Yeah, it’s good. I really go you know, it’s just, you know,” Jack tells Jamie with a playful shrug and roll of his eyes as you laugh. 

“Babe, what does that even mean?” You ask Jack and he just shrugs. 

“It’s either of you guys,” Trinity adds on, pointing at both Jack and Jamie. 

“I literally two minutes ago go ‘hey,’ to Jack,” Bailey speaks up, starting to explain what she means. 

“Oh my gosh…” Jack says as he puts his hand up to his mouth and leans away as if he’s embarrassed.  

“You see, he doesn’t even want me to say it, but like I laughed. And he goes, ‘hay is for horses,’” Bailey explains, doing a perfect impression of Jack. 

“No, stop! He uses that on me all the time!” You tell her as you smack her arm and she looks at you with a shocked look. 

“No. He does not. Does he?” she asks and you laugh harder. 

“I swear he does. I’ll just text him out of the blue one day after we haven’t been able to talk for a few days, and I kid you not I say ‘hey.’ What’s his response only a few minutes later? ‘Hay is for horses.’ I think it’s his favorite joke without realizing it,” You tell her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Jaaaaack!” Bailey cries out, carrying out the sound of his name as she laughs at him. 

“Yeah, but that- That’s so overused,” Jack tries to defend himself, but gets cut off as Bailey laughs as she notices Jaime. 

“Jamie’s like, yeah ok!” Bailey shouts as she points at Jamie. 

“I’m using that, man. I’m using it,” Jamie pointedly tells Jack while moving his hand away from his face for a moment.

“You’ve never heard that?” Jack asks and you roll your eyes. 

“I know I have,” you comment and Jack playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you have, babe,” Jack replies and you giggle. 

“But really, you’ve never heard that?” he asks again as he looks past you to Jamie and Bailey. 

“No,” Bailey tells him in a straight tone. 

“You’ve never heard that one?” Jack asks again as he points at Jamie. 

“My dad says that all the time,” Trinity adds into the conversation. 

“You’ve never heard that?” Jack asks again, clearly shocked. 

“No. I’ve never heard that,” Bailey tells him as she points to herself and he turns. 

“Bull!” Jack exaggerates as he leans his head back in disbelief. “Bull!” he repeats again as he looks at her. 

“Bull,” he exclaims again in disbelief as he turns in his chair to look at the camera. 

“Ok. Ok. Next question. Most likely to be singing on set?” Roger quickly segways to the next question and you all quiet down to listen to him. 

“Trinity,” Bailey says with no hesitation. 

“Yeah. That’s right,” Jack comments before Jamie cuts him off. 

“Yeah. You do. I like that,” Jamie adds his thoughts as he looks at her and she just giggles shyly. 

“She’s a singer, yeah,” Jack adds as he too looks over at her. 

“It’s rare for you not to find y/n singing with her, though,” Jack again adds on as he points to you. 

“It’s not my fault she pulls me in!” You exclaim and Jack snickers at you as you shrug. 

“Yeah. Trinity’s a singer,” Bailey agrees as she points with her thumb at Trinity. 

“Trini girl is a great singer,” you comment and Trinity blushes. 

“Although, I will say earlier you were singing that Bon Jovi song,” Jack brings up as he points at Bailey. 

“What are you talking about…?” Bailey asks, giving Jack a confused look. 

“It’s… I’m not gonna vote for myself! If it’s something like really obvious, I’m not gonna vote for myself, but me, Trinity and y/n would sing together,” Bailey defends herself as she points at Trinity, then you. 

“And we would- yeah,” Trinity adds on as Bailey laughs and claps her hands together. 

“Ok. Ready for the next question?” Roger asks as you all sit forward again, giving a small hum of agreement. 

“Ok. Who’s most likely to fall asleep on set?” Roger asks and Jack immediately starts getting antsy in his seat. 

“Definitely y/n. It’s kinda how we got together,” he explains and everyone else laughs. 

“I’m still mad they wouldn’t let me in on the game anymore after that,” Jack comments as he crosses his arms with a pout. 

“It wasn’t fair with you dating her!” Jamie exclaims and you laugh. 

“What game?” Roger asks and Jack perks up. 

“At the beginning of filming, we’d find y/n asleep in the craziest places and so we made a challenge. Whoever could get the most videos-” Jack starts to explain the game. 

“Or pictures,” Trinity adds in excitement. 

“Yes, or pictures of her asleep then we’d all give that person twenty dollars,” Jack explains and Roger looks intrigued. 

“Why’d you get kicked off the game, then?” Roger asks and Jack chuckles as he scratches at the back of his neck. 

“Well you see, one day Jack found me in his trailer, which wasn’t rare. It was one of my favorite places to sleep because Jack and I were close as soon as we met. Plus it was a good place to just bask in the quietness of,” you take over explaining and he smiles at you. 

“It wasn’t rare to find one of them in the other’s trailer at some point in the day if they weren’t filming with each other that day,” Bailey adds on with a light giggle and shake of her head. 

“Anyway, Jack found me in his trailer. I had finished my scenes for the day and he still had like three to go, but we had decided that morning that we’d get dinner together so I decided to wait in his trailer and ended up falling asleep,” you explain more and everyone laughs. 

“She’d literally fall asleep anywhere during downtime. It was fascinating how fast she’d be out,” Jamie comments and you shrug. 

“Yes, but you guys fail to remember the movie took three years to film and I was still going to real school and taking AP classes, might I add,” You defend yourself as you hold up a finger to silence your castmates. 

“Anyway, I found her little 16, almost 17-year-old self in my trailer, sleeping on the couch. I didn’t wanna wake her, she looked so peaceful. So I went over after changing out of my clothes and started to put a blanket over her,” Jack explains as everyone starts to snicker. 

“Wait, how old were you guys when it all started?” Roger asks, motioning between you and Jack, who grins. 

“I was twelve when I started auditioning, but when I actually met her I was fourteen and she was sixteen. We didn’t really start dating till I was sixteen, making her eighteen,” Jack explains the timeline and you grin, reaching for his hand. 

“But ask anyone and they’ll tell you we were the closest on set. We were like the best of friends,” You add on and Bailey scoffs. 

“Saying best friends is an understatement, y/n. You two were probably closer than that,” she comments and you blush. 

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” Trinity adds, making you and Jack smile at each other. 

“Anyways!” Jack cuts back in with a roll of his eyes at your castmates. “I was going to take a picture after putting the blanket over her, but she surprised me by pulling me down with her. I tried getting up, but I kid you not, this girl has an iron grip so I gave up and fell asleep with her,” Jack explains with a shrug and Bailey laughs. 

“That’s where I come in. I found them that way and took a picture. That was the first of many times we started finding him and her asleep cuddling somewhere,” Bailey explains through her laughter. 

“It wasn’t until about maybe a third of the way through filming we found out they’d started dating, so we told Jack he was out of the game because he’d have it too easy to get the pictures,” Jamie adds on and the rest of you all laugh. 

“I think they shoulda let me keep playing, really,” Jack says with a frown and Trinity laughs. 

“But you already have a whole bunch and we’re not even playing anymore! You have a whole album dedicated to her sleeping,” Trinity comments and you smirk at him. 

“She’s got you there,” You tell him with a giggle. 

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s not my fault my girlfriend sleeping is cute,” he deflects and you all laugh more at him. 

“It’s actually so well documented that there’s a behind the scenes video of it. James thought it was so funny, he decided to put it in the behind the scenes,” Trinity adds on and everyone agrees, nodding.  

“So if you get it on DvD you can see just how much fun we all had,” Bailey adds and Roger smiles. 

“Ok. Next question,” Roger tells you before pausing to look down at his note card. 

“Most likely to mess up a stunt,” Roger reads out and you all take a moment to think about it. 

“Jack…” Bailey speaks up first again as she holds back a laugh and he slowly grins. 

“Really?!” Trinity asks as Jamie starts saying “Whoa… whoa.” 

“So call him out, why don’t you,” Jamie comments with a playful roll of his eyes. 

“But not like messing up! Messing up sounds… bad, like, I don’t think messing up a stunt is necessarily a bad thing. Like I have literally… I…” she starts to explain her reasoning, but Trinity cuts her off. 

“And you have like really hard stunts, too,” Trinity comments as she looks at Bailey. 

“Yeah. Thank— who, me?” Bailey asks as she points to herself while looking at Trinity. 

“Oh, Jack,” Trinity clarifies as she points at him and he hums at her. 

“Y/n had some pretty hard ones too,” Jack comments as he looks at you. 

“That I did,” you agree as you nod. 

“Well who injured themselves the worst during that process?” Jamie asks as he leans back in his chair to look at Jack.

“Filming?” Bailey asks for clarification. 

“I mean I probably got the most scraps and bruises, but like, I film longer, so,” Jack explains, using his hands as he talks.

“That is true!” Jamie agrees as he looks away from Jack now. 

“Exactly, you did harder stunts. It’s fair, but listen I’ve got a face full of like those white balls—” Bailey talks with Jack about it and you snort when Jamie grimaces. 

“What?” Bailey asks, pausing as she looks at you and turning beet red from holding in a laugh. 

“Jamie totally got where my brain went…” you comment, laughing and Jack’s eyes widen. 

“Babe! You had them, too!” he shouts when he understands and you fight to hold back another laugh. 

“No. I didn’t mean that!” he shouts and now you bust out laughing alongside Jamie. 

“Ok… anyway I had them on my face because of a stunt, so… stunts go wrong,” Bailey goes right back to what she was saying.

“They really do go wrong. I think I may beat Jack in who got hurt worse, remember?” You question and Jack's eyes widen as he looks at you. 

“Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about that. Please don’t make me relive it,” he groans, covering his face. 

“What stunt? I don’t remember a stunt going wrong?” Bailey asks and you nod. 

“You wouldn’t. It was just Spider, Neteyam, Tuk, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Chickadee,” You inform her with a shake of your head. 

“Jack absolutely freaked out,” You tell her and she gives an ‘ahhh’. 

“Wait, are we talking about the one where you and Spider go flying?” Trinity asks and you nod. 

“Yeah. Without giving too much away, I was originally supposed to land safely on the pad next to Jack, but got caught on something and just landed wrong,” you explain and Bailey sits up in her seat. 

“Was that why you sat out for four weeks in Jack's trailer that one time?” she asks and you nod. 

“Yeah. I wasn’t allowed to do much with a freshly broken arm. So I just stayed in. Plus my pain meds were in his trailer. I was just going to stay in the rental house, but someone didn’t want that,” you explain with a playful eye roll. 

“I wanted to make sure my best friend -at the time- who had a habit of not taking her meds when she’s supposed to, did. Is that so bad?” he asks and you giggle, shaking your head. 

“No, I suppose not. You were just making sure I was ok,” you agree softly with him and he smirks. 

“Well I guess I did that job like a champion,” he slyly comments, making both you and Bailey groan. 

“Jack, honey. That was so cringe, my love,” you tell him while laughing with Bailey, who lets out a ‘see!’ while pointing to him. 

“Well, you like my cringe, so…” Jack trails off while crossing his arms playfully and you laugh some more. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” you agree with him and he smiles at the camera, bouncing his eyebrows. 

“See guys, she loves me,” he comments with a smirk and you shake your head. 

“That I do,” you tell him before leaning over just ever so slightly to kiss his cheek. 

“Awe thanks, babe!” he shouts out in a happy, high-pitched tone, making you and Bailey laugh even harder. 

“Goodness, your mom’s right, sweetheart. You are a dork,” you tell him and he only smirks again. 

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he cheekily states, making you and Bailey burst out laughing. 

“Jaaaack, you did not. You cheese ball!” Bailey yells out, only making you laugh harder. 

“Anyway, stunts go wrong!” she finally finishes her point and everyone agrees.

“Alright, onto the next question, then?” Roger asks when all of you calm down and you nod at him.

“Most likely to be swearing too much on set?” Roger asks as he reads off the card.

“Jack…” Bailey comments first again, laughing and you start laughing with her. 

“What?!” Trinity shouts as she looks at Bailey. 

“No. Definitely not me,” Jack denies as he points at himself. 

“Wait, NO! This has to be the adult cast,” Bailey amends what she said as she looks at Roger. 

“This is so easily…!” Jack shouts, trailing off as he leans back and rubs his leg.  

“This is Slang…” Bailey adds as she looks at Jack and pauses. 

“Sam!” Trinity yells out in shock as she looks at Bailey in disbelief. 

“I was gonna say Sam!” Jack agrees with Trinity as he sits up in his seat. 

“You had more scenes with Sam then I did,” Bailey adds and Jack nods. 

“Good point, good point,” Jack agrees with a shrug. 

“Because going around with the swear jar, you and me. Sam was our primary contributor,” Trinity explains as she points between herself and Jack as you just sink back in your chair while Jamie looks at you. 

“I mean, he’s Australian, ya know. Like, but yeah,” Jack adds while shrugging before relaxing his hands on his legs again and Bailey laughs. 

“There’s going to be Australians who are like, I do not cuss,” Bailey casually jokes as she lays her arms on the armrests of her chair. 

“Sam would try really hard in front of us. He put in a good effort. I remember one time he came up to me and he’s just like, ‘I’m sorry, Trinity. Colorful language comes naturally to Australians’,” Trinity explains as she does a perfect impression of Sam, making everyone laugh. 

Jack leans forward as he laughs and rubs his eyes before sitting back in his chair with a grin on his face. Jamie continues to eye you and you shake your head at him. 

“That’s funny,” Bailey comments before it all settles down again. 

“Ok. But who out of the kids?” Roger asks and Jamie smirks as you roll your eyes at him. 

“What? What are you thinking over there?” Bailey asks Jamie and he only smirks more. 

“Oh, nothing…” he comments with a light chuckle when he sees you avoiding him. 

“No, what?” Bailey asks again and he chuckles. 

“I was just thinking out of all us kids, the one who swore most was Y/n,” he commends and Jack’s eyes widen. 

“Nooooo! That’s so true!” Jack adds before letting out a small ‘oww’ as you smack his arm. 

“It is not,” you add as he rubs the spot and chuckles. 

“Oh, it so is. What about that time in my trailer huh?” he asks and you blush, making him chuckle again. 

“She was doing homework and she got very frustrated. She shoved her books off the table and yelled the f-word,” Jack explains and Trinity’s eyes widen. 

“I remember that!” Trinity adds as she points at Jack, who nods. 

“Ok. So I’d get a little frustrated sometimes, so what?” You shrug and try to play it cool, making them all laugh. 

“Ok. Ok. Can we move on from making fun of me please! School was very hard for me, ok?!” You shout, feeling embarrassed as you hide your face and everyone laughs. 

“Ok. Moving on. Most likely to forget their lines?” Roger reads off the cards in his hands. 

“Ohhh…” Jamie says as it goes quiet for a moment. 

“This is not a nice one,” Bailey comments as she plays with her fingers. 

“I feel like we’ve all… we’ve… done a pretty good job,” Trinity speaks up and trails off a bit. 

“Yeah,” Bailey agrees as Trinity turns to Jamie. 

“Have we?” she asks as she continues to look at Jamie. 

“I think everyone is pretty genuinely good at their lines,” Jack comments as he touches his chin in compilation. 

“I can’t remember what times when we…” Trinity comments before Jack cuts her off. 

“I can’t think of anyone that consistently…” Jack starts, but this time Bailey cuts him off. 

“Also you and y/n have some fun improv as well,” Bailey comments as she uses her thumb to point to you and Jack, who scratches at his ear as he turns to talk to her. 

“Yeah,” both you and Jack agree at the same time. 

“You guys are so good,” Trinity adds and you smile over at her. 

“You guys just go off and either one of them will be doing a scene where they’re walking out and one of them will just start cursing,” Bailey starts to explain and Jack laughs but you stop her for a moment. 

“No. No. Those ones were all Jack, all I did was act along with what he was doing,” you comment and Bailey rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, but like you did so good at just falling into whatever he’d do. It was so fun to watch,” Bailey expresses with a small eye roll. 

“Yeah…” Jack agrees with her as Trinity laughs. 

“The one where I was roasting you,” Jack comments as he sits up and points at Jamie. 

“Yeah and y/n just joins right on in…” Jamie comments with a roll of his eyes like he’s annoyed and you giggle. 

“Jack started it! I just went along for the ride!” You defend yourself and you all laugh. 

“I’m not gonna say the specific scene, but there’s a scene where I-” Jack starts to try explaining, but Jamie cuts him off. 

“That wasn’t even a scene. That was just in the trailer, man,” Jamie comments and everyone starts laughing. 

Jack bends over and puts his head on top of his crossed arms as you lean your head back. You both simultaneously sit straight again, but still have grins on your faces. 

“It’s everyday life,” Trinity comments with a nod of her head. 

“Look at your… look at your big feet,” Jamie imitates with a comical tone as he playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Everyday… the one scene aside from the lunch breaks,” Jack explains as Jamie goes on with the funny imitation, ‘look at your big blue head.’”

“Yeah. The lunch breaks, yeah. Yeah,” Jaime agrees before Jack sits back in his chair. 

“And y/n would always join in,” Trinity adds and you roll your eyes. 

“What can I say, it was fun,” you playfully admit with a shrug and everyone laughs. 

“We do get to do a lot of improv which is really fun. We created our own- the reef kids created— which is me, Duane and Filip— we created our own, like, rock paper scissors,” Bailey starts to explain, using her hand to motion out a half attempted rock move. 

“It’s like crocodile, akula, something else, like it’s really weird,” she explains with a shake of her head. 

“I have my own thing for that,” Jack comments as he points to himself. “I know how to win every rock paper scissors.”

“He does and he does it every single time!” You exclaim and Bailey laughs. 

“What? You make eye contact?” Bailey asks him and you perk up. 

“No. Do one right this second,” Jack tells her as he lifts his hands into position and so does she, making you watch your boyfriend intently with a smirk. 

“Rock, paper-” they both start to chant, but get thrown off. 

“Ok, rock, paper, scissors,” they both chant as they both do the hand motions. 

“Black hole!” Jack shouts, lifting his hands and making a circle and Bailey makes a funny sound in her shock. 

“I win,” Jack adds on as he grins proudly. 

“But the thing is, just in the airport the other day I beat you like four rounds in rock paper scissors,” Trinity comments with a grin and you gasp. 

“No, he didn’t. He told me he won!” You tell her and her eyes widen. 

“Jack. You lied to y/n?! How could you?!” she playfully jokes as he sits up. 

“We don’t have to talk about that!” Jack shouts as he puts his hand on his cheek. 

“Until I did the black hole and I won, so clearly black hole sucks everything, transports it to another dimension and I win. So no, I didn’t lie,” Jack shouts as he uses his hands to get his point across. 

“You know you become spaghetti if you go into a black hole?” Bailey calmly asks Jack and you giggle, already knowing what Jack’ll say. 

“Spaghettify,” Jack adds as he points at her, making you laugh harder when he says exactly what you knew he’d say. 

“O…k… whatever…” Bailey comments, unimpressed as she turns away from him. 

“Next question,” Bailey adds, trying to move on. 

“I love you, Neil Degrasse Tyson!” Jack shouts as he points to the camera and you start to laugh again. 

“He may even love him more than me. He made me watch that Cosmos one that came out in 2014 like once a month,” you comment though your laughter and Jack rolls his eyes. 

“I do not…” Jack plays coy, making you laugh harder. 

“Babe. I love you, but you totally do. At this point I can quote the 2014 and the 2020 one by heart,” you joke and he shrugs.

“But it’s so interesting, isn’t it?” he asks you and you stop laughing to look at him. 

“I mean, yeah actually, you got me there. It really is,” you agree with a shrug and Bailey rolls her eyes at the two of you. 

“Ok. Really, next question,” Bailey jokes as she motions for Roger to move on and he chuckles. 

“Ok. Who’s most likely to give the best life advice?” Roger reads off his cards again and you smile. 

“Kate Winslet,” Bailey says again without hesitation and you nod. 

“I totally agree. When I was stressed and struggling, she came over to me and was all like, ‘Look honey, you’re gonna struggle through life, it's just a part of it. What matters is how you fight back.’ I don’t know, it stuck with me,” you explain with a shrug after imitating her and sitting back in your chair. 

“I want to say Slang,” Jack comments and you grin at him as Bailey gasps. 

“Oh my God, I love Slang. He does,” Bailey whines out as she holds her hands to her chest. 

“He gives us- also ok, so Kate came for two weeks to film and then she came back to do reshoots and in that little time she impacted all of us so much,” Bailey explains with her hands.

“I think she impacted y/n most, though,” Jack comments as he points at you and you nod. 

“She really did! Like when I see her I just see stars around her. She’s so awesome. I have loved her since first seeing Titanic when I was younger, so meeting her was like a dream come true really,” you explain while grinning and Jack smiles at you. 

“She’s such a hopeless romantic. Titanic is her favorite romance movie,” Jack explains and you nod. 

“Well, how isn’t it yours?! Jack literally died to save her. That’s romantic right there!” You defend your reasons and Jack smirks. 

“It’s definitely not because his name is Jack, right?” he jokingly prods at your side and you blush. 

“I mean, it’s definitely a plus that I can imagine that it’s my Jack just because of the name,” you coyly state as you bounce your eyebrows at the camera and Jack groans, rubbing his face. 

“She literally pushes all her hopeless romantic energy on to me,” he jokes and you grin at him. 

“And you love it,” you state with a mischievous grin and he shrugs. 

“Can’t say I don’t,” he adds and you giggle softly at his little shrug. 

“Anyway, back to what I was saying,” Bailey cuts in again with a playful eye roll and you laugh, reaching for her hand to give it a squeeze as an apology for interrupting her monologue of thoughts. 

“But then Slang who was with us for the year and a half just- he’s just, like, the sweetest,” Bailey finishes off as she puts her hands together. 

“He’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, unless he’s in character,” Trinity adds on with a grin. 

“That’s true!” Bailey calls out, pointing at Trinity as you and her start to laugh. 

“Oh, yeah, that is so true,” Jack agrees as he sits forward in his chair and points at them.

“Cause like when Slang goes into that character, it’s just…” Jack tries to explain.

“Hardcore?” Trinity adds in for him. 

“Just rage and all that… stuff. But Kate, I was gonna say I only met Kate like a couple times, but the couple times I did, like she’s one of the most genuine people that you’ll meet,” Jack explains.

“You say that ‘cause she’s the only one that was able to calm y/n’s panic that one day,” Bailey comments and Jack's eyes widen. 

“No, I mean, it was definitely a sweet moment to watch her calm her when it was a rare moment that I couldn’t, but genuinely Kate was just all around nice and sweet,” Jack defends himself and you giggle. 

“Babe, I think Bailey’s just joking with you about it,” you tell him and he sighs. 

“Of course she is,” he comments with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ok. Ready for the next question?” Roger asks and you all nod. “Ok. Most likely to be the mother of the group?” 

“Trinity,” Jamie comments, pointing at her. 

“Yeah. Well, I have… yeah… that’s hard,” Bailey comments while agreeing with Jamie. 

“Well, yeah, Bailey— ok I will say Trinity is very like… like ya know, she cares a lot, but Bailey is also the type of person that will be like ‘Oh! You have something on your face!’”, Jack explains as he motions someone licking their thumb and cleaning the other person's face. 

“You know what I mean?” he asks as he sits back nonchalantly and Bailey starts to laugh. 

“No, like, cause the other day she’s like, ‘your mascara’s smudged’, and like—,” Trinity adds as she shows the motion of someone fixing it. 

“I literally have like a trapped survivor kit in my bag, so like I have bandaids, I have like multiple types of lip balm—” Bailey starts to try explaining and Jack laughs. 

“You do? So does y/n. Literally carries it everywhere with us. One time I cut myself and she just pulls a bandaid out of her pocket all like, ‘oh, here babe’,” Jack jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“It never hurts to be prepared,” you comment with a shrug. 

“I literally have gas x— which comes in handy more times than you think. I have mints, like all the things,” Bailey finishes.

“Yeah…” both Trinity and Jack add on. 

“But then yes, when it comes to press especially, I’m on it. We did like three reels today,” she adds on and Trinity laughs. 

“Yeah! She’s- she’s- she- We were having a social media internship right now from Bailey,” Trinity jokes and Bailey starts to laugh. 

“We, yeah…but no. I was gonna say y/n is the mother hen of the group, she’s like me and Bailey combined,” Trinity explains and Jack snaps, pointing at her. 

“It’s so true. She’s always prepared for any situation with snacks or even just like water and when she does check in on you it’s like super caring and sweet,” Jack comments and you laugh. 

“Jack, honey. You have to say that, you're my boyfriend,” you tell him, patting his arm. 

“No, but it’s so true though, you're like the perfect mix of caring and understanding, yet totally obsessive that everyone around you is doing ok,” he tells you and you just shake your head. 

“It’s actually so true, y/n,” Bailey tells you as she nods, grinning. 

“Ok, ok. I’m the mother hen of the group, I guess,” you agree with a shrug. 

“Ok, well, that’s all the questions we have for you all today,” Roger tells you guys as he stands from his chair and you all smile, nodding. 

Together we all get our mics taken off before separating to head to our cars and head to the next interview of the day. 

The End…

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Plus One

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing, Only One I See, One Thing Leads To Another, One Message Waiting, One Day Closer to You, I’m the Only One

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

You smile at your phone and Inez nudges you with her elbow. You barely hide the screen as she peeks over. You turn it face down and push her off the armrest between you. 

“So you and Jake? That’s a thing?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You lie poorly.

“Don’t. He asked me for your number, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, “I didn’t know he was your type.”

“We’re friends,” you shrug, “he’s funny.”

You press your hand to your neck and look around the lecture hall, students filing in as Professor Rogers stands at the front, transfixed on his screen as the projector remains blank. It’s not like you hid Jensen, you mentioned that you ran into him and it’s not that deep. You need more friends than Inez. And he really is hilarious. Well, he knows where to find the good memes.

“Sure, funny looking,” she scoffs, “tell me, what does Professor Pretty Boy think about your new fling?”

“In,” you face her, “me and Jake are just texting and me and Professor Rogers are working together. There’s nothing going on between any of us. Besides, don’t you have your own web of lovers to get tangled in?”

“Oh, yeah, Brianna found out about Jacob, so…” she flutters her fingers carelessly, “I didn’t lie to either of them. I said we were having fun and they weren’t into having fun all together, I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t seem too broken up over it,” you remark.

“Eh, it’s college, you’re not here for life,” she dismisses, “speaking of, you should hop on Jakey Boy. He’s a nice guy, a good way to dip your toe in the water.”

“Do you ever think of anything else?” You challenge.

“Mmm, my grades would say no,” she chuckles and leans into you, “I’m just saying, if you got that puppy dog sniffing around, it’ll get the wolf off your doorstep.”

She sends a look towards the front of the class as the projector finally lights up with the week’s slides. Professor Rogers looks up and clears his throat, calling attention from the muttering rows of students. Inez turns her head, shielding her mouth behind her hand, “you don’t wanna get tied up with a professor. I’ve heard stories…” she pauses and glances behind her, “Laufeyson.”

“What?” You turn to her with a sharp whisper, “no–”

“Mm, apparently he makes the rounds on first years,” she utters flippantly, “Mona, sits in the first row in history… that was in September. I think he’s moved on to Larissa.”

“Shhh,” you hush her, “you shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

“From the mouth of babes,” she sighs, “they told me themselves.”

You frown and peer down at the podium. Professor Rogers isn’t like that. You can’t imagine him doing anything like that. He’s so awkward, you only imagine him combusting at the very thought. Laufeyson might be a dog but he’s his own breed.

💭

“I know it’s a bit cramped in here,” Steve leads you into his office, “but I have a kettle if you want some tea.”

“It’s fine, Professor,” you assure him as you leave the door open behind you, “so I sent you my lesson plan…”

“Ah, yes,” he rounds his desk and puts down his bag, “I did go over it. Just let me get set up.”

You take the chair across from him, letting your coat rumple behind you as you shed it. You take out your laptop and balance it in your lap as you feel your phone buzz. You ignore it as you power up and search through your cloud for the file. You see his icon already present in the doc.

“Got it,” he announces, “right, so, starting with horror…” His eyes scan his computer, “you’re a fan of Shelley?”

“I… I liked Frankenstein, yeah,” you answer as you watch his cursor on your screen.

“I can tell, which is good, being passionate about what you're talking about,” he says, “I might cut back a little on her personal history and spend more time on Stoker. But it’s good you touch on Gaskell…”

You start a comment on the doc, taking note of what he’s saying, “oh thanks, I’ll definitely go over that.”

“Your slides are good though, informative but not crowded,” he taps his fingers on his lower lip.

You listen to his feedback, relieved that he’s not so wound up as usual. He seems calmer somehow. You don’t know why but there’s not the usual tension. Maybe because he’s talking about what he knows.

He sits up as he pauses. He feels around his blazer and slides out his phone, “excuse me, this damn thing keeps going off. I’m just gonna turn it to–” He blinks and goes quiet, “sorry, give me a minute.”

He stands and exits without waiting for a response. You don’t think much of it. Some emergency or another. 

You slip out your phone from your coat pocket and sit back. Inez would eat her words if she was there. Professor Rogers is distracted, apathetic even. Maybe he’s just used to your presence.

You flip open the chat with Jake. ‘So, they’re having a showing of Young Frankenstein at the Film Club tomorrow night. You into it?’

Your phone bubbles with suggested responses; ‘sure’, ‘I don’t know’, ‘no, sorry, I’m busy’. You hover over them and select the textbox instead. Is he asking you out? You’re too shy to ask him directly.

‘Oh, I love Frankenstein!’ You key in, trying to repress a grin, a giddy flicker in your chest.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘It’s a hell yeah!’ You almost giggle at your own response and flinch as you hear the door click behind you.

You straighten up and rest your phone on your knee as you glance back at Steve. He forces a smile as he strides around you and places his phone face down on the desk.

“Sorry, my mother,” he shakes his head, “well, you know how parents can be.”

You nod and don’t comment. You never really thought of him having parents. Maybe that’s unfair, he’s not that old. You could laugh but you keep your face placid. Your phone vibes again and you look down at the gif flashing in the chat. Jensen is such a dweeb.

“So, ready to get back to it?” Steve asks and you look up at him. His eyes are on your phone.

Embarrassed, you tuck your cell away, “yes, sorry, it’s just Inez being silly.”

#steve rogers #professor!steve #dark steve roger #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #au #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

[defectivevillain]

tentative acclimation

pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

summary: When Steve Rogers wakes from his near 70 year coma, he’s surprised by a lot of things. Perhaps most surprising, however, is the visit that Phil Coulson pays him—and the subsequent encounter with you, his new “tutor” and guide to twenty-first century life.

reader’s pronouns: they/them

Freezing. Painfully cold. Shivering, teeth chattering against chapped lips. Trapped in walls of ice. Voices can be vaguely heard through the barriers. Shadows rise and fall in the glassy surface of the ice. Numbness spreading down, down, down. Purplish blue skin, aching fingers.

Suddenly, the voices grow louder. There’s a harsh cracking noise and light seeps through cracks in the ice. The shadow on the other side of the ice morphs and, after a sickening moment of terrible anticipation, a pickaxe breaks the ice apart in one fell swoop.

Steve Rogers wakes with a gasp, breathing hard. He moves his arms to the side, half-expecting to find the freezing icy surface that kept him entrapped for so long. Instead, his hands find the rumpled sheets on his mattress. Steve takes a shuddering breath in and heads to the bathroom to splash some room-temperature water on his face. The first time he woke from the nightmare, he tried to use cold water—and nearly caused himself to panic all over again.

Safe to say, he can’t fall asleep after that. The sun is rising on the horizon; Steve has grown accustomed to rising with the sun, thanks to his nightmares. He takes a deep breath before going through the motions and making himself breakfast. After eating, Steve makes his way to the living room—only to hear the doorbell ring.

Steve walks to the front door and looks through the peephole, only to see a familiar face. He swings the door open and greets the visitor. “Phil.” “Captain Rogers,” Phil Coulson responds with a slight nod. Indeed, Coulson has been a frequent visitor since Steve first found himself in this S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse. “I’m here on official business, unfortunately.” He then steps aside to reveal someone standing behind him: you. Steve can’t help but wonder what Coulson’s game is here. Perhaps you’re an undercover operative that he’ll be working with in the future? Steve’s misgivings must show on his face because Phil sighs and gestures to you. “Please, introduce yourself.”

“Hello,” you remark casually, before introducing yourself. “I’ll be your… tutor, I suppose. I’ll be assisting you with reacclimating to life in the twenty-first century.” Steve stares at you in disbelief, waiting for the punchline. You simply stare back. He gives in after a few moments of tense eye contact and turns his attention to Coulson.

“Surely, this isn’t necessary-” Steve tries to object.

“I’m afraid it’s TVA protocol,” Coulson interjects, as if he’d been anticipating the argument. Steve frowns at the unfamiliar acronym. Coulson doesn’t give him any time to think about it, as he continues speaking. “Relocation to a different time period is jarring; we need to make sure you’re functioning properly and have all the necessary intel before we send you out into the field.”

“Are you joking?” Steve asks, just barely suppressing a laugh. He knows Coulson wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Despite that knowledge, however, Steve can’t help but resist the proposal. He doesn’t need to be tutored like a schoolboy.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Indeed, Coulson’s lips are pressed in a firm line and his arms are crossed over his chest. Steve remains silent, knowing when there’s no avenue for argument. For whatever reason, Coulson is not budging in the slightest.

“Now, then, I’ll leave you two to it.” In typical Coulson fashion, the conversation is cut short before it can really begin. The agent sends Steve a parting glance before stepping out of the room. Steve is unable to hold back an annoyed sigh. He takes a moment to survey you: his supposed tutor. You look like a typical citizen. Your outfit is a bit different than what he’s used to—you’re wearing a sweatshirt with lettering across the front and blue jeans. Steve supposes that your time—his time, now, he thinks to himself—isn’t one of war. Otherwise, he’d likely be seeing war uniforms similar to the ones that dominated the 40s.

“We don’t have to go through anything major, today,” you compromise right out of the gate, clearly sensing his frustration and apprehension. Steve feels his shoulder slightly loosen at that. “I figure it’s already pretty overwhelming to wake up in New York City nearly seventy years later… and in Times Square, no less.”

“How do you know that?” Steve frowns, thinking back to how he broke out of his containment and found himself standing on the street in Times Square. Nick Fury had confronted him in the middle of the street, where he received the devastating confirmation that almost seventy years had passed since the crash.

“I was briefed back at the TVA,” you respond. There’s a long silence. Steve doesn’t have the energy to try to fill it. Plus, what if his diction is misunderstood or incomprehensible? If clothing has changed so much in the years, everything else probably has too. There’s also the question of the TVA. He’s pretty curious about it—considering it sounds like the TVA (whatever that is) is the reason he’s going through this tutoring.

“Well, tell me about yourself, at least,” you prompt, before he can simmer in the quiet for too long. Steve squints at you in suspicion. You roll your eyes. “Just so I can get to know you better. I’m not allowed to share confidential information.”

Steve doesn’t take the provided opportunity to talk about himself. He’s hesitant to disclose anything to you—a complete stranger. Coulson brought you in with him, but that doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy in Steve’s eyes. The awkward silence continues to drag on.

“There are other people like you,” you say eventually, breaking the tension. “Gifted individuals. Superheroes. However you want to word it.” You break off for a second. “And you’re not alone, Mr. Rogers. There are… more people displaced in time than you may think.” Steve raises his eyebrows at that. There are other people like him—people that woke up to find themselves in an entirely different century?

“What I mean to say is… I’m able to make a living in this position—guiding victims of time and helping them adapt to current culture. I’ve met people who have been displaced centuries ahead, and they adjusted just fine. You’ll be alright.”

“Well, thank you,” Steve says, strangely reassured by the vote of confidence—albeit by a total stranger. “But I just don’t see how this…tutoring will be helpful to me.” He admits. Thankfully, you don’t seem to take offense to the statement.

“You may have been trapped in ice for seventy years, but the rest of the world was not,” you answer, clasping your hands. You seem to be avoiding his gaze now. “You’ll need to learn about history, technology, and even popular culture. Our society functions differently than you remember.”

“...Fine,” Steve acquiesces, albeit unhappily. He senses that you won’t be giving in any time soon. If he were to refuse, Coulson would likely visit every day until Steve gave in. Ultimately, he’s come to realize that this is unavoidable. If this is what it takes to get back to fighting for peace, he’ll do it.

“Good,” you sigh in evident relief. You tap your fingers restlessly against your leg, before pulling out a small device with a keypad and an even smaller screen. You’re looking down at it with rapt attention. “Now, I think that’s all for today. I’ll be back tomorrow, same time. Okay?”

Steve almost manages to suppress his curiosity, but he finds himself blurting out his question before you leave. “What’s that?” He asks, looking down at the device in your hand. You follow his gaze.

“Ah, this?” You motion, holding the device out. “It’s a phone.”

“That’s a telephone?” Steve asks, unable to quite keep the fascination out of his voice. The telephone he’s accustomed to comes to mind—a large, awkward, stationary object. It looks nothing like what you’re holding.

“Yeah,” you respond, sensing his interest. You hold the phone out to him so that he can take another look. It’s rather small—pocket-sized—and it has several different buttons. “The mobile phone’s great—you can call anyone right from here. It’s got a bunch of other features, too. There’s emailing, which is like sending a digital letter. There’s also texting, which is like emailing but more informal. Phones can even play music, too.”

“That’s… cool.” Steve admits begrudgingly.

“Right?” You smile amicably. “Hey, I’ll see if I can get you a phone before tomorrow.”

“That’s not-” That’s not necessary, Steve means to say. Unfortunately, you’re gone by the time he spits the words out. Steve stares at the door for a while after your departure, feeling a bit as if his world has been flipped upside down.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon thinking over his encounter with Coulson and his conversation with you. Despite his apprehension, you seem down-to-earth and kind. Perhaps the lessons won’t be as torturous as he expects them to be. He falls asleep quickly that night and, to his surprise, he isn’t roused by nightmares. Steve wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed for the first time since his return. It’s curious, he thinks to himself as he makes breakfast. He almost has to wonder if his conversation with you aided his psyche, but he quickly dispels the thought.

The doorbell rings, not long after he finishes breakfast. He supposes it matches the time you visited yesterday. Steve walks over to the front door and, after glancing through the peephole, lets you in.

“Great news,” you say brightly, foregoing a greeting. Steve feels his posture straightening and his negative feelings receding. You’re dressed in similar attire as the day before, although it looks a little more formal. You’re holding a paper bag in your hand. When you notice him staring at it, you smile.“I got you a phone.” Steve’s eyes widen and he falls in a shocked haze as you make your way through the house with unexpected ease. Eventually, you sit down on the couch and he finds a seat next to you. You hand him the bag and he looks down at it cautiously.

“Go ahead and open it,” you encourage him. Steve pushes past his irrational nerves and reaches down into the bag, only to find a nondescript white box with a cellphone pictured on the front. After a wordless nod from you, he opens the box and finds a brand new phone. You’re looking at him in thinly-veiled anticipation and Steve finds a smile growing on his face.

“Thank you,” Steve feels the need to say, even if his wariness hasn’t entirely diminished. It certainly seems as if you went out of your way to get it for him. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course,” you respond without hesitation. “And it wasn’t any trouble at all. Coulson seemed pretty open to the idea; it probably has some S.H.I.E.L.D. programming in it, but…”

“It’s great,” Steve cuts in, before you can evidently beat yourself up about it any further. He holds the phone delicately—secretly afraid that he’s going to break it. You notice his careful grip and laugh, before showing him how to use it.

The phone is truly amazing. Steve never thought communication would’ve grown so much in his absence. The telephones from his time aren’t even comparable to the lightweight device he’s holding right now. Indeed, his new phone has the capacity to play music, write emails, make calls, and more. It feels like an unnecessary luxury for him to possess, but you’re quick to reassure him that nearly every working person has one.

He fiddles with the phone for a bit longer, exploring the different programs installed on it. To his surprise, there’s already a phone number listed under the name “Foxtrot.” That must be Nick Fury. Steve sighs. There’s one more number, listed under the alias “Agent 10.” Steve doesn’t think that can be anyone but Phil Coulson.

“Your contacts list is a little sparse, I’ll admit,” you remark, glancing over his shoulder at the phone. “Here.” You extend your hand and Steve places the phone in your hand. He watches as you quickly type in some numbers, before handing the device back to him. “I added my number, too. In case you need anything.” Steve nods and promptly pretends that the thought doesn’t provoke yearning in him—yearning for you in the quiet hours of solitude in this house that isn’t his.

Learning how to use his new phone is incredibly enjoyable and enlightening, but, unfortunately, that is only the first of the many lessons Steve has with you. And the next lessons aren’t nearly as fun. Steve learns that World War II wasn’t the last war the U.S. battled in. Steve learns about the current state of the U.S. government and the travesties that occurred in his absence. Somehow, he is reminded of what should have been obvious from the outset: the world continued to survive and thrive in his absence. It’s hard to accept that, despite all his efforts to keep the peace, the world continued to see war, strife, hunger, and suffering. Things may be better, but from what he’s seen, they’re still a long way from true order.

Steve grapples with these facts for longer than he’d like to admit. Some of your subsequent tutoring sessions don’t actually involve any tutoring. Sometimes, Steve can’t find the energy or motivation to do anything except for stare ahead silently, blankly. In these moments, you’ll tell him about all of the good things that have happened in the world. You tell him about news stories where people save each other. Sometimes, you’ll tell him about a television show you’re watching or a book you find interesting. Steve can’t help but feel grateful for your unwavering compassion. Even in the moments when he can’t push words past his lips, you are a steady presence at his side. You’re perhaps the only person that doesn’t seem to expect anything from him. It’s rather refreshing—to be regarded as a regular human being instead of a superhero or a solution to the world’s problems.

Today is one of those days—the days in which he can’t bring himself to move. Everything feels hopeless. He is lost in this world and there is no one here that cares about him. Even your presence isn’t enough to shake him out of it. You start to speak aloud to fill the silence and Steve wonders. He wonders why you’re really here, why you’re even bothering to try when so many others abandoned him.

Time drags on. You’re moving from recounting your weekend to speaking about one of your favorite books. Steve feels the words crawl from his lips of their own accord. He doesn’t intend to interrupt you—it simply slips out.

“I had a date,” he murmurs, so quietly that he can’t even tell if he’s spoken aloud. Steve turns to look at you, only to find that you’ve frozen in place. There’s a bewildered expression on your face for a moment.

“What?” You ask quietly. The clock on the opposite wall ticks forebodingly.

“I had a date,” Steve says again. “I missed it.”

“I’m sorry,” you remark. There’s a tortured expression on your face and it almost looks as if you’re going to cry, too. Steve pulls his gaze away, his eyes burning. Everything feels as if it’s crashing down on him. The clock creates a methodical rhythm that rips through his head, reverberates in his skull. It’s not just about his date with Peggy—not anymore. It’s about the near seventy years he spent entrapped in ice, unknowing of the world aging around him. It’s about all his friends getting married, growing old, and dying without him. It’s about the old wounds from his war, being hastily covered with new scars from newer wars and newer conflicts.  

“I missed it,” Steve repeats, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. “I missed all of it.”

“Steve,” you remark with an uncharacteristically worried tone. You’re staring at him now. Steve can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the blank wall in front of him, even as his vision blurs with unshed tears. He feels a chill roll down his spine and suddenly, he’s shivering. Steve wraps his arms around himself, unable to see past the walls of ice obscuring his vision. He’s freezing. Painfully cold. Shivering, teeth chattering-

“Steve!” Your voice cuts through the static ringing in his ears. Steve flinches as you embrace him. You move back as if to pull away and he feels himself reach out to keep you next to him. You hesitantly wrap your arms around him and Steve buries his head in your shoulder. “You’re safe, Steve.” You’re almost exuding heat and Steve leans into it, allowing your heat to thaw the frozen ice around him. His fingers clench the fabric of your sweater.

There’s a hand on his cheek and kind eyes meeting his. Steve allows himself to lean into your touch, if only for a fraction of a second. “You’re alive, Steve,” you say. “You’re not trapped anymore. You’re free.” Somehow, that is what breaks Steve out of his trance. Free. He’s free. The ice around him is melting into a puddle. The water is seeping into his clothing, but he’s not trapped anymore. He’s free of his cold confines, free of the frigidity that clung to his skin for so long. Steve slowly exhales, his breath fading into the air before he can see it rise in a puff of vapor. He isn’t cold anymore.

Some time later, you break apart. Steve momentarily mourns the loss of contact, before beginning to feel deeply and profoundly embarrassed. He hates the idea of anyone seeing him like this—especially you. He almost wants to apologize, but he knows you’d just stare at him incredulously. The rest of your scheduled time, the two of you sit next to each other in silence. This silence is different from normal, though. It’s not uncomfortable or tense; rather, it’s comfortable. Steve feels relaxed by the time you get to your feet and declare that you have to leave.

“Give me a call, if you need someone to talk to,” you murmur, before leaving Steve to his uncertain silence. He stares at the space you occupied for a little while, wondering why he deserves your compassion. He can’t help but think back to last week, when he was so guarded about you and your intentions. Steve takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. His head is pounding. He gets some water before beginning to pace about the room. Just before he can summon the courage to dial your number, he realizes that he’s getting a phone call from you. Steve answers immediately and hopes that you can’t tell how relieved he is.

As time goes on, the tutoring gets easier. Steve feels less burdened by his past. He’s slowly adjusting to twenty-first century life and he’s starting to find that he actually likes it. Steve knows things aren’t perfect, but, then again, they never are. And there’s no use agonizing over what has already happened—that can’t be changed. The future, however… Tomorrow is in his grasp. He focuses on acclimating to this new technology that surrounds him, because he knows it’ll help him in the future. Steve even finds himself beginning to enjoy your meetings. He finds himself looking forward to your conversation, looking forward to the friendly smile you arrive with. He finds you in the most mundane of things—in the glimmer of sunlight that stretches through the window in the kitchen, in the simple elegance of the flowers swaying in the wind outside.

The moment he starts to enjoy your presence—long for it, even—the sessions approach their end. It’s been weeks since he first met you and, since then, he’s learned nearly everything there is to know about the twenty-first century. Steve doesn’t know everything, but he knows much more than he could have ever hoped to know. He realizes that he could never have learned everything he has on his own. It would’ve been impossible.

Just before your last meeting, you suggest that the two of you dine at a nearby restaurant to celebrate. This is how Steve finds himself sitting at a rickety iron table on the uneven sidewalk, bending his knees under the rather small table to avoid brushing against you. Stark Tower sparkles from its position in the near distance. The sunlight is warm but pleasant. There’s a gentle breeze wafting through the air. Steve is possessed with the mundane urge to sketch the tower in front of him. The urge fades when he sees the gleam in your eyes and the excited gestures you make as you speak to him.

The waitress here is friendly—almost too much so. She leans into Steve’s personal space and reads him the specials, as if he’s unable of doing so on his own. Steve glances at you for assistance, only to find that you’re steadily averting your gaze to somewhere on the street. Perhaps this is one of the few things that you’re also unfamiliar with.

Once the waitress leaves, you seem less tense. The two of you talk about any recent developments in your lives, anything that may have been neglected in your past lessons together. Steve is happy to hear anything and everything you have to say, and he finds himself captivated by your every word.

Before long, the waitress comes by again to deliver your drinks. After she places Steve’s drink in front of him, she winks at him and walks away. Steve feels dread rising in his chest when he realizes that the napkin she gives him has writing on it.

“Did she just give you her number?” You ask. Steve nods with a frown, turning his attention to the waitress who is now walking away. “You should put her number in your phone. She’s clearly into you. You could ask her out.” Your gaze falls to his phone on the table, as if waiting for him to input the number into his contacts list. He swears that he sees a slight strain to your smile at the suggestion, but he puts it down to his own imagination.

There’s a long silence as Steve remains still in his seat. After a few moments, you evidently realize that he isn’t interested. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories,” you grimace. Steve blinks at you, confused by the remark. It takes him a few seconds to realize that you’re referring to Peggy. Admittedly, he hasn’t thought about her in a while—not since he first told you about her.

“No, it’s not that,” Steve answers honestly. He’s felt restless for most of the day but, now that he’s sitting across from you at this restaurant, the finality of it all is starting to kick in. If he doesn’t say anything, the two of you will part and he will never see you again. Does he really want that? Steve contemplates the question, despite already knowing the answer.  He subconsciously reaches out and crumples the napkin with the waitress’s phone number, before getting up and throwing it in the trash can nearby. He returns to the table to find you with an apologetic look on your face.

“Sorry for pressuring you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve replies. His heart is thumping in his ears, creating an unsettling rhythm. It suddenly feels as if the city around him is sinking in on him. The skyscrapers above are curving and reaching out to him. Your expectant gaze is enough to convince him to keep speaking. “Actually, I think I may already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Really?” You ask before he can stammer on further. Steve nods stiffly. “That’s great! Do you want to ask them out?”

“Maybe,” Steve answers noncommittally. More than anything, his traitorous mind supplies. He takes a moment to look out at the street for a moment. Pedestrians walk by quickly. Cars honk and beep on the nearby street. The lights are dazzling. Admittedly, it had taken Steve several days to get used to all the blinding lights in NYC. Even now, staring for too long gives him a headache.“I’m not quite sure how to do it.” “Oh, I see,” you hum. “Well, fortunately for you, things haven’t changed much since the 40s. You can just approach them and ask if they’d like to go to dinner with you. It wouldn’t hurt to say that you like spending time with them or something like that.”

Steve takes a deep breath. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t remember the last time he felt such intense fear. Time seems to drag on with infinite slowness. Somehow, he manages to get the words out. “I really like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner with me sometime.”

“Just like that,” you smile. “You’re a natural.” Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. You think he’s practicing—rehearsing this proposal for the other person he’s in love with. What a twisted irony.

“No, I mean-” Steve breaks off. He looks you in the eyes again, hoping that you get the message this time. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”

“The first time was better,” you recall with a frown. Steve resists the urge to facepalm.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Steve responds, struggling to keep himself from getting frustrated. “I mean, do you want to get dinner with me?” He tries to place as much emphasis on “ you” as possible, so that you will understand that he’s referring to you.

“Um,” you break off, looking slightly uncomfortable now. Perhaps he’s being too forceful. “I think you’re good, now. You don’t need any more practice…”

“No, I’m not practicing,” Steve sighs defeatedly. “I’m trying to ask you out.”

“ Oh.” You remark with wide eyes, comprehension evidently hitting you all at once. “Oh, you’re asking me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.” Your lack of a definitive response is enough of an answer.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, forcing himself to push past the heartbreak clawing at his chest. “Just forget it.” He moves to get up, only for a hand to fall to his wrist. Steve barely manages to resist the natural reflex to throw off the sudden grip. Thankfully, it’s just your hand on his arm.

“Wait, Steve,” you remark, an unreadable expression on your face. “I never gave you an answer.”

Steve stares at you in disbelief, still not allowing himself to hope. He wants to think that you stopped him because you do want to go on a date with him, but he can’t dare to let himself believe it until you’ve verbalized the sentiment.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you smile. Steve meets your eyes and feels a similar smile growing on his face. He clasps your hand and you squeeze his reassuringly. Relief floods through him, coupled with some long-forgotten feelings: giddiness, excitement, appreciation.

Perhaps there’s a place for him in the twenty-first century after all.

#defectivevillain #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x gn reader #mcu #marvel #mcu x gn reader #marvel x gn reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #captain America x reader #captain america x gn reader