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professorrw · 3 years

Text

Drunken Stupor

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Request: @tomholland792 based on this tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdaesDvr/

Warnings: drinking, hangover, misunderstanding

A/N: This is unrelated but I got my first vaccine shot today! Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

It was a night to remember for sure. Looking back there were so many things you did wrong. But in the long run it was worth it.

You were having a night out, something that was rare since you had joined the Avengers. Things were slow around base so you saw no harm to go clubbing with Wanda. You two were pretty close knit since you were both the newbies.

The whole night was full of partying and drinking and dancing. It was two in the morning by the time Wanda called an Uber to pick you two up and take you home. You stumbled into the back seat with Wanda in tow. You were giggling and your head was spinning and it took all your effort to focus on what the red-head was saying.

“Who-” hic, “do you think is hot?”

You squinted at her and tapped your chin. “I think- I think that Steve is.”

“What about-” hic, “Bucky?”

“Mmm he’s hot too I guess.” In your drunken stupor every thought you had was coming out of your mouth. You didn’t like Bucky in that way, it was Wanda’s words that had coaxed out that response. Your first idea of someone hot was Steve.

Ugh, Steve. In your opinion he was by far the most attractive of all the Avengers, including yourself. He was the first to welcome you and he really helped with the process of getting to know everyone. There was instant chemistry between the two of you and although you weren’t together, dating or liking other guys felt like cheating. Somewhere in your heart you hoped that you would be together someday.

But that wasn’t at the forefront of your mind at the moment. Your mind was hazed over and the only thing you could think of was your immediate thoughts.

You got out of the Uber once you arrived at the compound. Your driver was nice enough to park right in front of the doors because he could tell how hammered you both were. You kicked off your heels by the front door and leaned on the wall for support as you did it. On the way to the living room you were swaying back and forth and replaying Wanda’s words, which were the only thought that was clear at the moment.

Natasha, Tony, Steve, and Rhodes were in the living room when you two walked in. The group could immediately tell that you were drunk.

The first person you caught sight of was Steve, who was sitting in a chair reading.

“Hey capsicle,” you said. You weren’t entirely sure if they could understand what you were saying but you were so out of it your eyes weren’t even staying open.

Steve had warned you before you left not to get too drunk, or else you would have a terrible hangover. Obviously you didn’t heed his words. He looked up from his book and glanced at you. It killed him to see you so out of it. He liked you, really liked you, and the fact that you had gotten drunk and didn’t even ask him to come get you worried him.

Nat looked over at Cap, “Steve?”

He just shook his head and looked back down at his book. Natasha was aware of Steve’s crush on you, and also knew without being told how protective he was of you.

For some reason the next thing you said was, “By the way, Bucky’s hot.” Out of all the things you said that night, that was the one thing you regretted the most.

Steve was so bothered by what you had said he shut his book, got up, and walked off. He was planning on telling you soon how he felt, but now you were saying that you thought his best friend was hot? There wasn’t anyone to blame in the situation. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault you said that. To Steve’s knowledge you’d only met him once.

Tony was never told of Steve’s crush but Steve wasn’t very good at hiding the fact. He ran a hand down his face. He lived for some good old fashioned drama, but Tony was tired of all the pining that was going on between you two. He was going to combust if one of you didn’t confess soon.

Rodes was none the wiser of your crushes but he could tell from Steve’s reaction and the rest of the groups’ that nothing good was happening.

Natasha walked over to you and put her arm under yours to hold you steady. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. You raised up slowly and rubbed your eyes. On your bedside table was a glass of water and a note. It said, “Drink up and eat a good breakfast! -Nat.”

You downed the glass of water and went to the bathroom. You squinted at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt of yours and your hair was in shambles. You instantly regretted the previous night’s drinking that you had done. You tried to think back on what happened but your mind drew a complete blank. You couldn’t remember anything after your first few drinks.

You walked to the kitchen and pulled a bowl out of the cabinet. You weren’t even going to attempt to make a whole breakfast in the state you were in. You poured some instant oats and water into the bowl and popped it into the microwave. Steve walked in while you were waiting for your oatmeal.

“Good morning,” you said.

“Morning Y/N.” He gave you a thin smile, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and walked off. You stared after him with a confused look. You may have been a little disoriented but it was obvious something was wrong with Steve. You put that thought away when the microwave beeped.

You ate your breakfast alone and chilled in your room for a few hours. Right after lunch Natasha came to check on you.

“Doing okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the water by the way. I woke up with a killer headache.”

“No problem. You were drunk last night when you got home and I thought you would most likely have a bad hangover,” she explained.

“I do. I can’t even remember most of the night. Oh, and what’s wrong with Steve? I saw him this morning at breakfast and he was acting weird.” You sat up in your bed and crossed your legs.

She winced, “Um- I think you should ask him about it. It has to do with last night.”

You groaned, “Oh god, what did I do?”

“Well, you came in completely wasted and basically said that you think Bucky is hot.”

You raised your eyebrows and blinked at her. Internally you were slapping yourself. You said that in front of Steve? In front of the guy you liked? How could you be so dumb?

“I’m gonna go but if you want to know, Steve’s in the gym.” Natasha waved and left your room.

As soon as her footsteps faded you slid on some house shoes and made your way down the stairs. You weren’t entirely sure of what you were going to say but you were already in front of the gym door.

You opened it and there was Steve, hitting some punching bags. He showed no signs of noticing you so you walked over to him. He didn’t stop until you were a few feet away. Sweat was dripping down his face and his chest was heaving.

“Look Steve, I'm sorry about last night. I was black out drunk and didn’t know what I was saying. I can’t even remember what happened, but Natasha said that I called Bucky hot right in front of you and that’s not the case. Not that I don’t think Bucky is good looking because that’s not true-” You were so nervous that you began to ramble and all Steve could do was sigh.

“Let me start over. I don’t like Bucky, plain and simple. I actually like you,” you admitted. You bit your lip and looked at Steve.

He raised his eyebrows, “Really? So you don’t like Bucky?”

“No, I don’t. I barely even know him.”

Steve inhaled, “I guess I’ve been a little… rude to you then. I’m sorry too. I acted like a child about it. I just reacted like that because I like you and it hurt to hear that you thought my best friend was hot.”

You laughed, “It’s okay, I understand. So would you like to go on a date sometime then?”

“Yeah, yeah. I would love to.” He smiled at you and you just smiled back. The circumstances of your confession were less than swoon worthy but it all worked out in the end. That was the beginning of your relationship with Steve and you would both joke about it later on.

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years

Text

Full House

2. “Why am I here, anyways?” & 3. “And who are you again?”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

characters: reader, jemma s., daisy , elena r., mysterious stranger?!

word count: 1.8k

summary: i’ve combined ch 2 &3 because why not? thank you guys for the interest in the first chapter ;w; i wasnt really expecting much, but just knowing some of you like it was really heart warming ;w;

previous || all || next

The liquid sloshes back and forth as you twirl the glass in your hand before throwing it back. You ignore the burning in your throat and slam the glass back down for another refill.

“Wow. Been a while since you’ve pounded back a straight shot of vodka,” Daisy whispers bewilderedly, bottle of squirt in one hand and another glass of the clear liquor in the other.

She’s not the only one staring at you like that; Jemma is too. She blinks owlishly as she says, “Their divorce must be really bothering you.”

Elena pushes back Daisy’s arm holding the soda, stopping it from over filling her cup. “No shit,” she mumbles earning a swift slap to the arm from Jemma.

“It’s not the divorce that’s bothering me, it’s the fact they got one without any one of us noticing!” You assert, more forcefully than intended and swipe the bottle of vodka from Daisy’s hand to fill your cup. “Someone from the courthouse would have told us!”

Jemma winces as you once more throw back another—or maybe three—shots of vodka. She gently coaxes the bottle out of your hand and you let her take it from you. “Right, maybe let’s take these slow? You and vodka don’t exactly mix well.”

You slump in your seat. “Two years. Two fucking years and they tell us now?”

“Did they tell you why they hid it for so long?” Jemma asks soothingly, trying to ease your frayed emotions.

“No,” you say with an exhale. “They didn’t get the chance to because we had to rush to the emergency room.”

“What? Why? Are your parents okay? Why didn’t you call us?” Jemma asks.

“They’re fine,” you say. “It was Michael who got hurt. He was playing with the girls and saw that Cassie was about to fall into the pond and broke her fall. Got a mean fracture in his foot.”

Daisy takes a sip of her drink. “Yikes!” You nod, rubbing your left arm. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Going to be in a cast for a while, though.”

Jemma grimaces. “Tough. So your parents weren’t in the mood to explain after that or...?”

You sigh, eyes roaming away from your friends. “No, my parents stayed home while the rest of us went with Clint and his family to the hospital.” And that was yesterday

Elena perks up at that, pausing mid drink to narrow her eyes. “You just left your parents alone at the house after that bomb?”

You wince at the accusatory tone in her voice; that’s exactly what you did.

It was a complete mess.

Everyone was running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. Michael and Cassie were crying and apologizing to each other all the while Lulu was cackling. It took Natasha delegating for everyone to finally get their heads on straight and get everyone out the door. Well, almost everyone.

“We’re coming with you!” Your dad had said, moving quickly to grab his keys off of the rack on the wall.

“No!” You startled at the force behind Clint’s voice. Your eyes wide as you stared at your older brother’s stern expression. It had taken you completely off guard. He was usually so calm and collected, never letting things get to him.

“But—“ Your mom started, hoping to convince him.

“No,” he repeated, voice softer, but strained. “You can’t just-“ he lets out a frustrated sigh-“ we need time to process what you just told us and we can’t do that when you’re hovering over us. Right now, the most important thing is focusing on Michael.”

“Clint—“

He turned away from them and all you could do was follow after him, ignoring your parents with a heavy heart.

“We’ll see you at the hospital,” Pietro told them after they settled in the car with Natasha as the driver, Clint in shotgun, and the kids in the back with Scott. The three of you waited until the black SUV pulled out of the driveway before heading towards Pietro’s beat up corolla.

“Kids…” Your mom‘s worried voice caused you to pause, unsure whether to answer or not. Were you guys being unfair to your parents? Maybe. But Clint was right. All of you needed time to process the situation, and them being around you would not help at all.

You shared a glance with the twins and with a reluctant sigh, Wanda turned to them with a neutral smile and said, “I’ll… I’ll call you later to update you guys.”

Still, needing time to process doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt turning your back on your parents.

You steal Elena’s drink before she can take a sip and down it, the bubbly drink mixed with vodka making it hard to swallow. “It’s all types of fucked up, isn’t it?”

You feel heavy, body leaning right and then left, never being able to stay straight. Your head is in the clouds and all you can picture is home where your family is waiting for you. “Home,” you whisper. But you’re not home, you’re in a cold place, where the seating is uncomfortable and you’ve hit your head on something sturdy a couple of times.

“Are you okay?” Worry laced into a deep voice asks. He sounds nice, warm even. Is it dad? Or maybe one of your brothers? He repeats his question, a little louder and even more worried.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” you whine. “I don’t know.”

He asks you something else, but you can’t really hear him. There’s a buzzing in your ear that overtakes you and you can’t help but let it sway you. It’s a sweet lullaby.

“Why am I here, anyway?” you ask the air. When you should be home in your bed and warm.

The last thing you feel are warm arms wrapping around you.

Groaning, you turn under the heavy restraint of a blanket. Your head is pounding; your eyes heavy as you try your best to open them against the warm rays filtering into your room. You give up. Pulling the blanket over your head, you’re suddenly engulfed by a woodsy smell—pine? Sandalwood? Ugh. No. Not thinking about it. Head hurts.

A gentle knock at the door makes you groan again. It opens with a soft creak and heavy footfalls against carpet register in your brain.

“Pietro,” you croak. “I swear to god, if you try and pick me up, I will not hesitate to hit you in the groin.”

A chuckle that definitely doesn’t sound like your brother’s responds to your mild threat and it’s enough to have you throwing the blanket off of you and sitting up quickly. Which you immediately regret. Greatly.

Rubbing at your temple, a cup of water and a hand holding out aspirin appear in your line of vision. “Here, these might help.”

With a low thank you, you take them from the stranger and throw back the small pill and chug down all of the water. It’s a nice welcome to your parched throat. “You didn’t poison me did you?”

He laughs. “Shouldn’t you have asked that before taking it?”

You shrug. “I was desperate.” Finally looking up, your tired eyes are blessed by a beautiful man; and you’re not exaggerating. He’s gorgeous! Sandy blonde hair, baby blue eyes, chiseled face covered in scruff; delicious muscular build wrapped in a red Henley and black joggers. You gasp, eyes widening. Have you died and gone to heaven? How else would you have managed to land in his bed?

His smile wavers, eyes narrowing with worry. “You okay?”

You blink once, then twice as he waits patiently for you to speak up. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m fine. But uh, who are you again? And how did I get-” you look around the simple room with wooden furniture and little knickknacks here and there-“here?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. I found you half passed out on the stairs.”

“Stairs?” Oh, shit. You were at Daisy’s weren’t you? And you got hammered! Fuck! Wanda and Pietro must be worried sick! “My phone!”

You slap the bedding, searching frantically for your phone.

“It’s on the bedside table,” he suddenly says. At his words, you practically flung yourself to grab it, finding it connected to a charger. “I wanted to call a friend or order you an Uber or something but I realized it was dead.”

Relief fills you when you disconnect it from the charger and it turns on with a simple click. “Thank you.” Slowly, but surely, your phone begins to vibrate with incoming messages and voicemails.

Steve whistles in amazement as your phone goes off with notifications. “Wow. Your friends must be worried about you.”

Your face blanches as you read through the messages.

Wanda:

Hey, I know you’re at Daisy’s, but let me know if you’re going to stay over or if you need a ride.

Pietro:

wanda and i r worried lil sis! call us soon

Daisy:

Home yet?

Ugh drunk

Call me towmr

Can’t spell bye

Clint:

You okay? Wanda just texted to ask if you’re over at my place, and obviously you’re not. Getting a little worried here.

The Nest

Wanda:

Still not answering her phone!

Clint:

Have you tried calling Daisy?

Scott:

U think she’s lashing out? Finally hitting her rebellious stage?

Pietro:

she’s not you, scott

Wanda:

Yes! She said they all saw her schedule an Uber

Scott:

Ouch!

Wanda:

Everything after that is apparently a blur

That’s not funny, Scott!!!!!!!!!!!!

Should we call the police?

File a report?

Pietro just said we can’t because it hasn’t been more than 24 hours

Clint:

I’ll go look for her

Wanda:

Pietro and I’ll go with you

Scott:

Luis isn’t home, can’t leave Cassie, keep me updated

“Fuck,” you exclaim, jumping out of bed. “Shoes, shoes, shoes!”

“They’re by the entrance—“

You don’t let him finish, you’re already zooming past him and out into the small corridor connected to his kitchen and living room. You almost topple over his neat furniture, but somehow manage to keep yourself upright.

Just as Steve said, your flats are by the entrance, next to a full shoe rack. Slipping on your shoes, you order an Uber through the app—fuck! Your history says you did schedule an Uber last night! But if your phone died and you stayed inside, then… fuck me! You really need to stop drinking vodka.

“Be careful,” you hear Steve say as you open the door. “No more sleeping in staircases!

“No promises,” you answer back, turning around to find him leaning against his kitchen counter with an amused smile. “Thank you for not being a creep!”

The Nest

You:

Guys! I am so sorry! I’m on my way home now! But I promise I’m okay!

Clint:

You are in so much trouble!

Pietro:

look at that, baby sis is alive after all

Wanda:

You almost gave me a heart attack!

You:

I am so sorry!

Scott:

Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you?! Proud of you little troublemaker you!

Wanda disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Pietro disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Clint disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Scott:

It was a joke!!!!!!!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 5 years

Text

The Art of Love (Part 4) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hi lovelies! Happy weekend! Here’s some fluff to kick it off.

Summary: You finally make it to those dinner reservations.

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader (Platonic - for now), Wanda, Nat

Rating: T

Warnings: Language Shirtless Steve Rogers,. TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Word Count: 1768

Main Masterlist | The Art of Love Masterlist | Broken Hearts and Robot Parts Masterlist (Companion Fic)

Steve’s POV

Steve was still frustratingly blocked on his showcase project by the time Friday afternoon rolled around. You’d been in the studio all week choreographing what was now a duet and he had barely seen you which did little to help his mood. You were always his muse.

His phone buzzed, and assuming it was a text from you he picked it up immediately, more than a little disappointed when he realized it was just an email. Putting the phone down and shedding his clothes so he could shower.

He was halfway through an inspired rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody when his phone started ringing. Quickly jumping out of the shower, he picked up just before it went to voicemail.

“Hey, sweetheart. You on your way?”

“I’m just finishing up packing. What do you want me to wear tomorrow?”

“Whatever you want?” He responded. “Why would I have any say over what you wear?” he asked, ignoring the way his heart thudded at the reminder he’d be spending an entire weekend with you.

“Well, we’re trying to impress your mom right? So I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying too hard.”

He could hear the nerves in your voice and pictured you standing in front of your closet, staring and nibbling on your lower lip.

“You don’t have to impress anyone, sweetheart.”

“You do realize this is the first time I’ll be spending any real time with her right? I want her to like me.”

“She’s going to love you. Hell, she already tells me…”

He clammed up quick when he realized what he’d been about to admit.

“She tells you what?”

“That I’d be a lot worse off without you,” he half-lied.

“Well we know that’s true.”

Steve scoffed.

“But that doesn’t help me know what to wear,” you whined.

“Where whatever makes you comfortable. You’re beautiful no matter what.”

“Aww, thanks, handsome.” There were a few moments of rustling before a grunt. “Okay forget it. I’m just going to bring a few options and you can pick when I get there,” you finally huffed. “I’m getting an Uber now. I should be there in twenty-ish.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon. Text when you’re close so I can help you with all your luggage,” he teased.

“Jerk,” you muttered laughingly. “Bye.”

Steve laughed when you shared your location with him ten minutes later, with the note Just so you know, bellhop. He shook his head as he dried off and got dressed for dinner.

Y/n’s POV

“Where are you off to?” Natasha asked from her spot on the couch when you exited your room with your duffel bag over your shoulder and a garment bag full of dresses.

“I’m staying with Steve for the weekend.”

“You don’t usually pack when you stay at his place,” Wanda remarked.

You shrugged.

“Yeah, well. We have a lot of things planned so I need clothes other than his sweats.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ooh. What are you guys doing?” Nat pressed.

“Well, tonight he’s taking me out to celebrate my job offer. And then tomorrow we’re having his mom over for dinner. And then Sunday is our annual Lord of the Rings marathon.”

“That sounds fun. You look beautiful by the way. Is that a new dress?”

“Sort of. My mom bought it for me for Christmas. I just haven’t had a chance to wear it yet.”

“Well it looks great on you.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s with the wardrobe change?” Wanda gestured to the garment bag which was bulging with the number of dresses you’d hastily thrown into it.

You flushed in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear for dinner with his mom, so I grabbed a bunch of options and I’m going to let him pick.”

“That’s so cute.”

“I’m kinda nervous about meeting his mom,” you admitted as you stared at the floor thumbing through the same four apps on your phone.

“You’ve met his Mom before haven’t you?” Nat questioned, brow furrowing as she tried to remember showcases past. “You had to have been with me after showcase.”

“Yeah, I’ve met her. But I haven’t spent any real time with her.”

They both nodded sagely.

“You won’t know until you try. But she’s lovely. You know that. You’ve met her.”

“I know. She’s great. I just, Steve is important and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“Impossible, Smudge. You’ll be great.”

Your phone vibrated in your hand, alerting you to your Uber’s arrival.

“Well, I will see you on Monday most likely,” you told them as you pulled on your coat.

“Have a great weekend,” Natasha smiled.

“Say hi to Steve for us.”

“I will. Bye!”

Once the door shut, the two women shared a long look.

“Think they’ll get it after their fourth Valentine’s day together?” Wanda asked, hope in her voice.

“Somehow I doubt it.”

“It’s just as well. My bet’s May anyways.”

“Mine’s the night of showcase.”

“Guess we have to wait and see.”

“How about we do that with some wine?” Nat suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You had shared your location with Steve once you were on your way, but you were still surprised when you pulled up to his apartment and he was waiting in the doorway to help you out of the car. He took the garment bag from you and then held his hand out to steady you as you teetered slightly in your heels.

“Thank you,” you called to the driver as you shouldered your bag.

“Have a good night!”

“You too!”

You shut the door of the SUV and turned to face Steve with a huge smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi honey, I’m home,” you giggled.

He chuckled and continued holding your hand as he led you into the building. You both smiled and waved at Steve’s downstairs neighbor who was getting her mail.

“Good evening, Mrs. Mitchell,” Steve called.

“Good evening, dear. You’re all dressed up. Important night?”

“Extremely. I’m taking this pretty lady out to celebrate her new job,” he announced proudly.

“Oh congratulations, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, you two look great. Have a fun night.”

“Thank you,” you both chorused.

She beamed at you, though there was something secretive in her smile as she waved you onto the elevator.

“I’m sure glad I cleared out some space in my closet for all this stuff,” Steve teased, readjusting the garment bag on his shoulder.

“Shut up. Your closet has never been filled anyway.”

His laugh vibrated through you as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you hit the button for his floor.

“How was rehearsal today? Did you pick a partner yet?”

“Yes! Fandral is going to help me out. I wanted T’Challa,” you admitted with a slight pout, “But he’s already doing some very intense fight choreo with Okoye along with his own one act so I didn’t want to overwhelm him.”

Steve nodded sagely as he unlocked the apartment. Being overcommitted for showcase was the worst feeling.

“That makes sense. And Fandral’s a good choice. You liked working with him last time.”

“Yeah, he’s great. I’m excited to start working with him. How was your day?”

“It was fine. Got some work done on my midterm. Started cleaning the apartment.”

“Still blocked huh?” you asked knowingly as you waltzed into the bedroom.

“Completely,” he groaned as he hung up your dresses in his closet before flopping dramatically into the chair in his front window, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Have you scrapped a lot of paintings?”

“I wish. That would mean I at least had some ideas. But I’ve got nothing. It’s like when you try to say a word and you just freeze. I’m frozen.”

You placed your duffel on the far dresser, and slipped off your coat before sitting in his lap kneading some of the tension in his shoulders and ignoring the way his hands felt on your waist.

“You’re also tense as all hell.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he commented drily.

You poked at the almost rock hard muscle between his neck and shoulder.

“Jesus, Steve. You’ve never been this bad before.”

“I’ve never been this stuck before. It’s completely open ended. And I can’t think of anything. Why did they have to give us contentment as our inspiration word? Like it’s so… so…”

“Nebulous?”

“Thank you. See now I’m freezing on my words too.”

Frowning, you moved your hand up to card through his hair.

“Hey,” you spoke softly. “It’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out and it will be beautiful. Like it always is.”

He cracked an eye open to look at you.

“You think so?”

“I know so. You’re incredibly talented. Just try not to stress. Focus on the feeling. You’ll find your way to express it.”

“Spoken like a true dancer,” he grinned.

“I’m serious. Steve, your art always connects. It’s always full of emotion. So don’t paint contentment. Paint the experience.”

“That’s good advice.”

“Like I give any other kind.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pulled you down onto his chest anyways.

“Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.”

“Because you love me,” you sing-songed, as you cuddled into his chest, still playing with his hair.

“Damn straight,” he mumbled against your cheek. “But it’s mainly for your muffins,” he added with a rumbly chuckle.

You smacked the back of his head, before nestling your hand back in his hair. You could feel him relaxing under your touch. He hummed when you scratched at his scalp. You sighed when he traced patterns on your lower back. You were both lost in the tender moment. You could have stayed there all night.

Luckily both of your phones chimed with reminders of your reservations thirty minutes before you needed to be there.

“We should get going or we’ll be late,” he murmured, though his hands were still tracing circles on your back, distracting you. “Y/n?”

He snapped you back to reality.

“Right, yes. The reservation.”

You gracefully stood up and smoothed your dress and Steve got his first full look at you.

“You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

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

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

Tag Lists are Open (Please send an ask)

Update 3/15/2021: Hello, Lovelies. As some of you may have seen on the blog I have decided to suspend tag lists. If you would like to receive updates about new content please follow @naynay-writes and turn on notifications. Thank you! Xoxo, Naynay

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#Steve Rogers x Reader #College!AU #friends to lovers #part 4

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moonstruckbucky · 5 years

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Snowed In [one shot]

Summary: Based off the prompt: “we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward” from this prompt list.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2741

Warnings: Illusions to sex, language, awkward situations

Notes: To help get myself into the holiday spirit, I found some fun winter prompts that I’m hoping will do the trick. I’m literally writing these as I sit bored at work so.

New York nightlife reached new heights the night before an incoming snowstorm. You weren’t sure what the appeal was, since your idea of a good snow-in involved fuzzy socks, a book, sleeping until noon, and Netflix, but you let your friends drag you out into the frigid New York air anyways. At least you won the argument to wear jeans and heeled boots over a skimpy cocktail dress.

Light snowflakes were already falling as you and your friends caught an Uber to a nightclub in Manhattan. It was cramped in the backseat between the four of you, and the traffic was terrible, but despite all that you felt a small bubble of excitement. Small talk buzzed around the car, the driver chiming in every so often much to your enjoyment, and then before you knew it the Uber pulled up in front of the building.

The line out front looked daunting, stretching far down the block, and you frowned. “Are you sure we’re going to be able to get in?”

“Nat’s got hookups,” Wanda supplied with a wink and a toss of her long brown hair. You laughed a little as you slid out of the car, hugging your coat tighter to your body.

The music from the club pulsed a rapid beat as your quartet strode up to the door. Natasha, in her stunning emerald green pant suit that set off her red hair, smiled sweetly at the bouncer, a big hulking man named Dave, and gave her name. Dave grinned and leaned forward to peck her cheek in greeting, and with an amused smile you wondered how deep her connections went.

Dave allowed you to enter the building, the indignant cries of the people in line falling on deaf ears. You winced a little at the volume of the fast-paced dance music, a remix of some modern pop song, but your ears quickly adapted as Natasha led you all to the bar. It was tradition to start off every girls’ night with a hefty shot of tequila, and it was a tradition that often set you up for a terrible hangover the next day.

But considering your boss had already told you not to bother coming in, you decided you could live a little.

The shot went down smooth despite the bite of the liquor, and it settled warmly in your stomach. You grinned as Wanda held up another. Clinking your glasses together, the second one went down even smoother than the first.

“Let’s dance!” you said into Wanda’s ear. No need to ask her twice. She grabbed your hand and tugged you out onto the crowded floor, leaving Natasha and Gamora to follow behind you.

You began moving to the beat of the song, your hand still in Wanda’s as you danced around one another. In spite of your initial reluctance to go out tonight, you were glad you did. The night had only just begun and already you were having a blast.

You danced through five songs before you needed an actual drink in your hand, and Natasha followed you back to the bar. Dropping into two stools, you panted to catch your breath and exchanged a broad smile with the redhead.

“Thanks for twisting my arm in coming out,” you said, leaning closer to her to talk without yelling over the music. Her spicy floral perfume wafted into your nose, and you laid your head on her shoulder.

“Sometimes we worry about you,” she said honestly. She leaned forward over the bar to give the bartender your drink orders, settling on some kind of tequila mixture. Then she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, returning her full attention back to you. “How much of a homebody you are. Sometimes we think something else is going on.”

“No, nothing’s going on,” you said earnestly, lifting your head to give her a soft smile. “You know me, I like my space and solitude.”

“I know,” she groused, a teasing lilt to her voice. “But I’m really glad you came out tonight. We could all use a night to let loose.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The bartender set your drinks down and immediately you and Natasha clinked them together, taking hefty sips and wincing. “Wow, he was feeling generous with the tequila.”

“No kidding.” Her eyes scanned further down the bar, a slow smirk appearing on her face. “Hey, out of curiosity, when’s the last time you got laid?”

You spluttered. “Beg pardon?”

“Y’know, when was the last time someone knocked you into your headboard until you saw God?”

“Jesus, Nat! Have you always been so crass or is this something new?” you retorted, face flaming (though you’re not sure if it’s from her blunt question or the answer you’re reluctant to give).

“I’m gonna say it’s been a while then. Wanna break that streak? Because there’s a total hottie checking you out down the bar. Really muscly, navy button-down. Don’t be obvious about it, for the love of Pete.”

As subtly as you could master, as grace wasn’t really your forte, it was Nat’s, you turned your head, eyes flitting across the bartop to meet a pair of vivid blue eyes, brought out by the obscenely tight shirt stretched across the planes of his chest. Dear god, you feared for those buttons, but the smirk he sent your way quickly had you rethinking how much you’d love to rip those buttons free.

Knowing you were caught, you straightened on your stool, playing it off that you weren’t totally checking out a stranger. Your finger traced the rim of your glass as Nat’s dark eyebrow rose.

“What the fuck do I do?” you squeaked. “Do I go over there? Buy him a drink? Send him a fucking letter with a carrier pigeon? Nat!”

“I think you’re covered, sweetcheeks. He’s coming over here. I’ll catch you later. Or maybe I won’t.” She smirked, picked up her drink, and abandoned you at the bar just as the muscled torso of aforementioned hottie down the bar took her place.

Dear god, he was even better looking up close. Did the universe really spit out people who looked that good? His blonde hair looked soft as silk, the dim lighting of the club reflecting off the highlights. And up close, those buttons looked to be in real danger of popping off at any point.

He cleared his throat, which you’d just barely heard over the music, and your eyes snapped to his. He was smirking, and your face colored at being caught so obviously ogling him. You played it off, gracefully crossing one leg over the other and leaning on the bar.

“Hi.” Oh sweet Jesus, even his voice was smooth as silk. You were done for.

“Hello.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn’t waver or crack. No good showing all your cards at once.

“I’m Steve,” he introduced, jutting out a large hand, tipped with long fingers, out towards you. Smoothly you took it, reveling in its warmth and the way it dwarfed yours. Instinctively you suppressed a shiver when his thumb ran gently over your knuckles before he let go.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you, Steve.” You batted your lashes once, thanking Natasha for seemingly sending you some pointers on sultriness via ESP.

“Oh believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Steve responded smoothly. He leaned his elbow on the bar, effectively lowering his face closer to yours. His cologne, a delectable aroma of something musky, invaded your nose, inhibiting your senses and making you feel drunk. “Could I interest you in a dance?”

Playing coy, you blushed. “You could.”

The dance floor was where you remained for most of the night. You’d caught a glimpse of your friends, who encouraged you to stay with Steve despite it being girls’ night. You weren’t sure they could pull you away with a herd of wild horses. He was intoxicating, Steve, and an excellent dancer. His large hands splayed across your back as you danced chest to chest, eyes locked on one another.

When he spun you around, pressing your back to his front and pressed a slow, languid kiss to the spot behind your ear, you knew there was no way in hell you weren’t leaving here without him.

Which is how you found yourself crowded against the window in the back of an Uber, Steve’s mouth assaulting yours, as the snow fell more heavily. A layer of white coated every surface, a fleeting thought that left as quickly as it came when Steve’s warm hand slid up under your shirt, luring gooseflesh to the surface despite the blasting heat in the car, the fire in your blood.

He barely pulled away from your mouth to pay the driver when the car stopped, and the two of you fumbled out of the backseat. It was a trek across the slippery sidewalk to his apartment building and breathlessly he told you the elevator was out of service. To the stairs it was, and that was an adventure in itself seeing as neither of you was keen on letting the other go just yet.

Finally, finally, you reached his floor and his apartment door, and your mouth teased the skin of his throat as he dug into his pockets for his keys. His throat vibrated as he groaned when your teeth nipped at the skin, bruising his pale skin a pretty purple.

Once inside the apartment, it was a heated flurry of discarded clothing, loud, carefree moans, and breathy sighs until you fell asleep cradled against that glorious, expansive chest.

You were the first to wake the next morning, having rolled away from Steve’s godlike form sometime during the night. Eyelids heavy, you scanned his room for your fallen clothing, finding only your jeans and underwear. Your blouse and bra must have been left in the living room. You rubbed your eyes, urging yourself to wake up faster so you could get the hell out.

You slipped out of the bed, a small part of you wishing you could stay just because of the furnace of a man still dead to the world, and began picking up your clothes. Like you thought, you found your bra strung over the arm of the couch, your shirt under the entryway table. Once dressed, you pulled your phone out of your jacket and brought up the Uber app.

You frowned when a notification popped up in the app that all Uber services for the Manhattan area were shut down due to the snow.

Shit. The snow.

Venturing to the massive living room window, you pulled back the curtain and frowned at the fact that you could not see a foot in front of the window. Snow flurries were being whipped around by a strong wind and a layer of frost coated the windows. Steve’s apartment looked to be on an upper floor, though you couldn’t tell how high from the low visibility. Plus, you hadn’t exactly been counting the floors as you climbed the stairs the night before.

Sighing, you browsed the internet for subway times, cursing quietly when a bright orange banner at the top of the page notified you that, like Uber, the subway was shut down due to both maintenance and the storm.

“Everything’s locked up.”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone, at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice. He was leaning against his bedroom doorway, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Jesus, did this guy own a shirt that fit him properly?

“Yeah, I, uh, found that out the hard way,” you muttered, waving your phone by way of explanation. You suddenly felt very awkward; your previous one night stands didn’t usually extend this long, and you had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, it seemed Steve did. “Do you want some coffee?”

The way he asked it was so unusually casual that you couldn’t do anything but nod and follow him to the kitchen. He slapped the countertop twice, a nonverbal cue for you to park it, and he began to bustle around his coffee maker.

“So, what do you do for work?” he asked as he filled the basin with water. He glanced over his shoulder at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. The whole ordeal threw you for a loop, really.

“Um, I’m in marketing,” you stammered, awkwardness coating every word. Sighing, you dragged a hand through your hair. “Sorry, I’m not usually this awkward. It’s just….”

“This doesn’t happen a lot for you,” he finished with an understanding smile. The beauty of it set your mind back a couple steps.

“Uh, right. Usually, I’m out before he wakes up or….he’s out. There’s none of….this.” You gestured between the two of you. Steve nodded, lips pursing a bit. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes when he turned to lean his backside against the counter, the coffee percolating behind him.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to mix it up a bit every so often, right?” His grin was wry and teasing, and you felt yourself smiling back. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Steve’s smile turned softer. “Pancakes it is.”

Conversation flowed easily between the two of you once you set aside your awkwardness. If Steve didn’t feel uncomfortable with his one night stand staying through the snowstorm, then who were you to complain?

Turns out, Steve was a hell of a cook and whipped up the fluffiest batch of pancakes you’d ever had. He even had strawberries, whipped cream, and homemade maple syrup from his parents in Vermont. The coffee was nice and strong, and the company and conversation couldn’t have been better.

The two of you moved into the living room after Steve insisted he’d clean up the dishes later. You frowned, but he flashed that thousand-watt grin at you and you forgot what you were frowning about. Steve held out his arm next to the couch, and you flopped onto it, groaning at its plushness.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, stretching your neck back as you curled your feet up underneath you. “I could die happy on this couch.”

Steve chuckled and sat down, closer to you than you’d been expecting. With all the casualness of a good friend, or even a boyfriend, he reached for your legs and dropped your feet into his lap. The gesture made butterflies take to your belly, and you hid a smile behind your coffee mug.

“I’ve admittedly fallen asleep quite a bit out here. Dunno why I even bothered with an actual bed.”

You shifted so your back was against the armrest. Steve’s thigh was firm under your legs and his hands warm as they drifted up and down the tops of your feet.

“It is a comfortable bed though.” You smiled cheekily, pulling your lip between your teeth when Steve’s pupils dilated just a bit.

“Glad you slept well then.” Was it you or did his voice drop?

“Like the dead. I had a pretty good furnace keeping me warm.”

“Happy to be of service. Let me know if I can do it again sometime,” he said softly, voice turning away from teasing and playful to serious. Your smile dropped, but only a bit, before it turned shy as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Are you saying you…want to see me again?”

Damn your galloping heart for actually wanting him to say yes.

Steve’s face turned a darker shade of crimson, the blush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears.

“I mean, I know it’s not very….conventional to want to see your one night stand again but I’m having a nice time with you. So, yeah, I’d really like to see you again. Maybe we can go get dinner somewhere or lunch in the park.”

You smiled giddily. “I’d love to. Give me your phone.”

He tossed it to you, and you plugged your number in, adding a little wine emoji next to your name. You handed it back, letting your fingers brush his for a lengthy moment before dropping your arm, your eyes locked on his. You watched his breathing hitch, watched his Adam’s apple bob.

Boldly, you licked your lower lip, lower regions clenching when his eyes followed the movement, and asked, “So, just how comfy is this couch?”

Steve’s hand drifted up your leg to your thigh as you sat up. “Come over here and we’ll find out.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america x reader #marvel #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #winter #winter fluff #marvel fanfiction

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 7 years

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Accidents Happen (Episode 3/?)

Peter Parker x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Wow, I am on a goddamn roll with this series! I’ve spoiled you guys, today! LOL! You guys are lucky my class was cancelled! I have a full day of classes, tomorrow, so we shall see when part 4 comes out. I’ll keep you updated!

Warnings: Teen pregnancy, swearing (why is this even a warning?), bullying, etc…

Masterlist

Accidents Happen Masterlist

You didn’t want to stay in the apartment, alone.

You had texted peter, asking him to come home, and he replied that he was staying at Ned’s – needing some space. You texted Michelle with no response. Aunt May had to leave, having gotten called in for a night shift. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, because of your mother…

Natasha.

You had your own suite at the tower, too, but you didn’t want to be alone. You needed someone to be with you. Natasha had become one of your very few friends, in the short time that you had known her. She liked to make jokes that you were the little sister she never asked for, but loved immensely. You didn’t quite want to tell her about your little… okay, pretty fucking big pickle – just, yet. You just wanted a nice, relaxing evening with Natasha – and Wanda, if she wasn’t busy.

You grabbed your cellphone, a sweatshirt of Peter’s, and your bags. When you reached the ground level of the building, you used your phone to request an Uber to come pick you up, then called Natasha.

“Hey, Pechen’ye,” Natasha answered, calling you her little nickname for you: Cookie. You still don’t know why she calls you cookie. “How are you? Steve said you were sick, today.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s passed.” You lied, “I’m actually staying at the tower, tonight. I wanted to know if you and Wanda were free to come watch some Netflix with me?”

“Yeah! Wanda is gone, but I just have some training to finish with Barnes and Sam, if you want to come? We’ll be in the gym. We could binge after?”

“I’ll meet you in there. See you soon.” You hung up your phone, hoping that she didn’t catch any weird vibes from your call. It’s Natasha. Of course she already knows something is up. You were surprised that she didn’t hack into your medical records, figuring out what was wrong. Or maybe she did, already, and just wants you to tell her? Not happening. Not for a while.

Your Uber took forever to get to the tower, and tried to hit on you twice. You were, also, 95% certain that you saw Peter swinging around, on your way to the tower. You shot him a small text: I can see you. I’m headed to the tower to hang out with Natasha and Wanda. May went to work. See you tomorrow?

He never responded. You figured he wouldn’t. You should have known that he wouldn’t go to Ned’s. Whatever.

When you got to the gym, Bucky and Sam were arguing. Natasha was just stretching on the side of the main sparring mats, watching them with an annoyed look on her face.

“What are they arguing about?” You asked, dropping your bags to the ground and stretching with her.

“Who won the spar. I called it a draw. I wanted to see if they would fight about it, and what would happen.” She smirked, looking over to me, “Straighten your back, if you’re going to stretch. Do you want to train?”

No. I’m pregnant. “I’m good. I just want to relax, tonight. My body healed itself from whatever I was sick with, and it took a lot out of me.” Don’t catch the lie, don’t catch the lie…

“Why did you even go to the doctors?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you, “You always come see Cho if you are worried about something, or think your powers healed you from being sick.”

“Cho’s out of town.” Not a lie. “I’ll talk to Cho when she gets back.”

“You’re lying to me.” Nat stopped stretching, “Something is happening. What’s going on with you?”

You didn’t realize that the boys had stopped arguing and were now listening in. You huffed, laying back against the mats as Bucky came over to stand by your feet. “Steve thinks you’re pregnant.”

You shot up, “What?!” You stared at him. “Why would he think that?”

“Because you went to the doctors, and had to come talk to Peter – then, Peter looked upset all day.” He shrugged, “You’re not that sneaky, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure something like that out. Plus, the look you just gave me sort of confirmed it.”

“You’re pregnant?” Natasha shouted, hopping up from the mat. “What the hell, Y/n! We have been training! And you’re sixteen! You are too young for a baby!” She started swearing in Russian.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Nat.” You sighed, standing up and grabbing your bags, “Are you having a relaxing night with me, or not? I just want to b-be fucking normal tonight, okay?” Your voice had cracked, and tears started to blind your vision. “Just for tonight, okay? We can talk about it, tomorrow.”

She looked over at Bucky and Sam, who weren’t saying anything. Then, she let out a deep breath she had been holding, “Okay. We can talk about it, later.” She marched over and took your bags from you, “But we stay in my room, tonight.”

____

“Shit.” You looked around for your school bag. “Nat, I think I left my backpack at Peter’s.”

“He dropped it off, already.” She called out from the bathroom, where she was brushing her teeth, “It’s by the door.”

Oh. You looked at your phone, which had been sitting on the nightstand, and checked to see if he had texted you or called you. Nothing. Still.

You swallowed down the nausea that had been building, along with your anxiety. Were you supposed to act normal at school, today? Were you still going to act like a couple? Were you still a couple? He only said he wanted space – not that he wanted to break up.

Will he break up with you?

That did it.

You ran into Nat’s bathroom, throwing up in the toilet while she brushed her teeth.

“Don’t brush your teeth, use mouth wash. I heard it grinds the acids into your teeth.” She said, handing you the bottle when you were done. “Also, I think you should move out of your mom’s apartment.”

“Nat.” You shook your head, “I can’t. I’m only sixteen.”

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand dismissively, “You know that Stark could get you emancipated in a heartbeat.”

“I’ll think about it.” You rinsed your mouth out after the mouthwash, and gathered your school stuff, “Hopefully today is just an easy, peaceful day.”

Oh how wrong you were…

You were running late, so you didn’t get to eat, again. Plus, you felt exhausted.

Then, the cab driver couldn’t break the hundred that Tony had given you for your ride, so you had to run into a cafe – still on the meter. Then, Flash Thompson was standing by the front doors to the school and said something rude as you walked in – dampening your mood further.

Finally standing at your locker, you ripped your coat off and shoved it on the hook, forcefully.

Peter still hadn’t talked to you. You understood he wanted time and space, but you weren’t used to not talking to him. You’d always had him as someone you could talk to at any time, even before you two had started dating.

You didn’t like this. Not one bit. It was stressing you the hell out.

“Hey, stranger.” Michelle was suddenly next to you, “I take it you feel better? You were obviously sick, yesterday. You never miss.”

“Yeah,” You carded a hand through your hair, clearing your throat. “I’m fine. Just tired, still. Hey, have you seen Peter?”

“He’s at his locker, talking with Ned, like he always is before class.” She laughed, giving you a funny look. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good. You look a little sweaty and pale. Are you still sick?”

You shook your head, putting on a fake smile, “Must be left over from yesterday. Let’s go.”

She linked her arm through yours, pulling you towards Peter’s locker – where the boys looked to be in a serious discussion.

“H-hey, Y/n.” Ned cut Peter off, putting on a fake smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine.” You smiled, feeling awkward. Peter was facing away from you, looking like he would rather be anywhere but next to you. You cleared your throat, and fought off a wave of exhaustion. You tried to talk to him, “Hey.”

Michelle looked between you and Peter as he ignored you, “What’s going on? Are you two fighting?”

Peter slammed his locker shut, making you jump a little. He walked away without so much as a glance your way, and you felt tears fall down your cheeks as your heart broke a little more.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, wiping your face and walking towards an empty hallway. The bell had rung a few seconds after you found a spot, but Michelle had followed you, anyways.

“Y/n, what the hell is going on?” She asked, looking around to make sure the two of you were really alone. “Are you two really fighting? You two never really fight. More like bicker. Almost like an elderly married couple. It’s sickening, really. Although, I guess it was bound to happen-”

“Michelle.” You cut her off, shaking your head. You wiped your face with the sleeves of your – well, Peter’s – sweatshirt. “Please?”

“Wow.” She frowned, setting her backpack down on the floor, “It must be serious. What happened?”

You shook your head, “We fucked up. Really bad.” She motioned for you to continue, handing you a tissue from her backpack. “I wasn’t here, yesterday, because I went to the clinic.” You gulped. “I went to Planned Parenthood.”

Her face turned to one of shock, “Are you…?”

You nodded, “I’m around twelve weeks pregnant.”

“Holy…shit.” Michelle dropped down to the floor, leaning her back against the wall, “When did you guys…?”

“Back in October.” You chuckled at her grossed-out expression, “After I went to band camp, and I’d slept over at Peter’s again.”

“Oh, wow. That’s way before you guys actually started dating.” She shivered in mock (or maybe real?) disgust. “That was around the time that you two started getting all touchy feely. More than usual.”

“Yeah. That was the only time we had sex, though.” You sighed, “Now, look at us.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no fucking idea.” You sat down next to her, leaning your head against her shoulder, “He’s mad at me, because we agreed on aborting. Then, I changed my mind without talking it out with him. I sort of just went all protective and told him that my decision was final.”

“It’s your body, Y/n. It’s ultimately your choice.” She argued, “He doesn’t have a say if you do or you don’t have this baby.”

“It’s his life, too.” You tried to defend him, “This is his baby, too. It may be my choice, but it’s also his.”

“Y/n.” She grabbed my hand, “I’m not here to tell you what to do, but I think that you and Peter need to sit down together and really talk about this. If he isn’t talking to you, he’s probably just panicking because he thought that you two had it figured out – then, you didn’t. He’ll come around.”

“I hope so.” You closed your eyes, tiredly gripping her hand tighter. “I miss him.”

___

“Oh, no.” You whispered, staring at your phone in the hallway, a few hours later.

Flash fucking Thompson tagged you in a tweet.

“Pretty sure I just heard @Y/n say that she was PREGNANT?! WTF!”

Shit. He heard you talking to Michelle in the hallway.

Every 4-letter word you could think of was on repeat in your mind.

People were staring at you. That had been tweeted about an hour previous. Meaning, people had definitely saw it. There were comments, retweets, and replies.

You shut your phone off in a panic, scanning the hallway for Peter. You didn’t see him, and ran for the front doors, pushing people out of your way as you went.

“Hey! Y/n!” You hear Flash just before you see him standing in front of the exit. “So, are you really knocked up?” A crowd was gathering. “That’s a shame. Looks like you’re going to end up just like your momma.” He laughed, and so did the stupid little crowd of assholes. “Just make sure to lay off the hard drugs, you don’t want to lose your looks. What little looks you did have.” He smirked, gesturing to your body.

“Fuck off, Flash.” You were about to go the fuck off. Your heart was racing, you felt cold, you needed to sit down. “Let me leave.”

“Naw. I think I’ll just-”

You didn’t let him finish before you flew forward and hooked him right in the jaw. You didn’t stay for the aftermath of your punch, before you were running out the doors and into the city. You needed to think. You needed to go home. To your own apartment. Where nobody would bug you, and your mom was most likely passed out.

No such luck.

You ran into the apartment, ready to break down, when you suddenly heard a shatter next to your head. “What the fuck, Mom! Did you just throw a bottle at me?!”

“Are you fucking knocked up, you stupid little bitch?” She yelled, slurring and taking a chug from a different bottle, “Fucking Susie Q, or whatever - some fucking chipper lady called from Planned Parenthood. Said that they couldn’t get a hold of your cellphone and that you forgot some papers.”

Shit. You should have never put your home phone number on the form. “I am.”

“Stupid piece of fucking shit!” She threw another bottle towards me, “Didn’t I teach you anything when I told you all about the birds and the bees? Are you too fucking stupid to comprehend contraception? What am I paying that fucking fancy school of yours for, anyways?”

“You don’t pay them, Mom.” She threw another bottle at you. “Where the fuck are you getting all these bottles, you psycho! Stop! Mom! Stop!” She kept throwing them, getting closer and closer to you. A burst of pain radiated from the side of your head as one knocked you right in the temple. “Mom! Please!” You raised your shaking hand to your head. It came away sticky with blood.

You ran from the apartment, blood dripping from the cut above your eyebrow.

Fuck. What the hell.

You called Peter, but only got his voicemail.

“P-peter? It’s me.” Your voice cracked as a sob racked through your body, “I’m headed to the tower, can we please talk? I just tried to go to my apartment, and m-my mom threw a f-fucking bottle at my head. I’m bl-bleeding. Please. I- Shit.” You dropped your phone, hearing the phone’s screen crack against the sidewalk as you collided with a giant man on the street. “I’m sorry, sir.” He grumbled and kept walking. Great. Phone’s shattered.

The walk to the tower was long. You usually took an Uber or a cab, but you had left your wallet in your purse. Which was still in your locker. Along with your coat.

Shit you were cold. Really fucking cold.

It took you forty-five minutes to get to the tower, because you had to stop and catch your breath. Why am I breathing so hard? Your head was still pounding from the bottle, but you were sure that the blood had stopped running down your face. Fuck, you felt dizzy. You needed to work out, more. Jesus.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Ed, the security guard, was suddenly in front of you. When the hell did you get to the tower? Weren’t you just on a park bench? “Miss, you’re bleeding.”

“I-I…” You heard an alarm go off. What? What was the alarm? You looked around and people were standing above you. How the hell did you get to the floor? Weren’t you just talking to Ed? “Why a-am I on the…”

Darkness washed over your vision as you passed out.

Episode 4

Tags: (Come join the party! Let me know if you want to be part of the story, or in my forever tags! Thanks, Loves!)

@luckynumber1213 @castellandiangelo @sassyandclassyx @mrsnegan25 @impossiblepizzapeace @glitterquadricorn @chameerah @pigwidgexn @kawaiianime03 @lxdyred @let-me-luve-you @koizorahana @nataliehasgrace

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type-a-nomad · 6 years

Text

First REAL weekend in South Africa-- Sat Feb 17- Mon Feb19

Weekend

Feb 17 Today I went on a surfing day to the beach at Big Bay. The beach faces the main city of Cape Town and you can see Table Mountain looming over the entire place. The view is spectacular. Basically, the premise of the surfing day was a collaboration between two NGOs in Cape Town dedicated to helping the kids in the townships get out of the townships through extracurricular activities. One of them is SAVE Volunteers (my people) and the other is Wings, an organization started by one of the SAVE employees from Norway who raises money to buy surfboards and wetsuits for the kids here. Surfing has a reputation of being kind of airhead-y or unambitious, something people who just want life to be easy and relaxing seek out. The organizations I am working with prove that wrong on so many fronts. The most critical, to me, is the water. The ocean is so powerful and so healthy. I might be the only one, though this is unlikely, but when I go into the water, I am entirely filled with energy and life and consciousness. Further, physical activity is so important for mental wellbeing and it helps these kids channel energy and frustrations from the hardships they experience daily into something that isn't self detrimental (like joining a gang or being swept up in the alcoholism and drug addiction that plagues a good amount of their parents and family members). Another critical part is the challenge. There is a very tangible outline of success: getting up and surfing the wave. Thus, surfing is saving these kids’ mental wellbeing. Or at least aiding it. It’s incredible to see how appreciative they are for everything. They are so excited to be there and are having fun from the second they show up till the second they leave. I went into the water for about 45 minutes. The waves were enormous. I have never experienced anything like it. There were swells of 10 feet. A lot of the volunteers didn't go out because they were so uncomfortable with the swell. Apparently, the waves being this big is rare. But, this is the first time I have surfed in a year and I was anxious to just try. So, I forced myself into a wetsuit and decided to make myself uncomfortable because that’s why I'm here— I’m not about to live timidly even though a lot of my brain wants me to. Carpe this fucking diem. All that. When I got out of the water, after being crushed by many waves and ignoring the cramping in my shoulders from paddling, I was starving and grabbed my German friend, Nicole, to go to a smoothie place right near the big beach. When we got there, I noticed they had wraps so I got a breakfast wrap. I know this is super boring. Who cares what I’m eating? Right? Except it’s actually a big deal, because I only eat carbs for breakfast and lunch and my body is not used to only having a small amount of protein at dinner on good days. I’m trying to go shopping more to supplement the fact that I just eat peanut butter toast to survive here because I’m so emotionally and physically exhausted all of the time from giving every piece of myself to the kids that making something more than that is basically impossible. When I got back, I had potato salad and meatballs out of the fridge that was apart of the dinner the night before. It was yummy but also a second lunch at 4pm and, thus, I was not very hungry when dinner rolled around at 6pm. I got my portion of pasta and put cling wrap to save my rations for the next day. I ate the salad and then most of a chocolate bar that I bought and designated as my “emegency chocolate bar”. I guess craving sugar constitutes an emergency for me.

Feb 18

I woke up at 6:20 am today because I had a zipline tour that I booked. It was an hour and a half there and the tour was at 9 so we were going to leave at 7 so we would be sure we wouldn't be late. I was a bit loud getting ready because I was so exhausted. Linda, my roommate who is 60-ish, from Canada, and now retired and living in Oaxaca, Mexico. She’s super cool and even says “eh”. It’s very exciting. We are starting to get kind of close. We even gossip sometimes. Anyways, back to ziplining. The way I got into this in the first place was because Natasha, a British girl who lives in my house and has been very outgoing and nice to me so far, was talking about wanting to do it with somebody and asked (out of semi-desperation because others didn't want to do it) me. I’m still not in great physical condition. I’ve had a really bad cough since I’ve gotten here and it is showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. Please, Mr. Cough, you are overstaying your welcome. Natasha and I called an uber at 7. The guy pulled up and seemed nice enough, but I was worried that he was going to kick us out when he realized how far we were going. Directly inland 90 minutes is basically to the middle of nowhere. When he noticed the destination he did something very, very weird. He says “Is this a cash or card trip”, uber doesn't let you pay in cash so I found this very sketchy. We told him it was a card trip, to which he said “ don't have any cash or cards, can you pay me in cash so I can get us all the way there”. Obviously, I am feeling a little more than weirded out at that moment because of all the horror stories we have heard about transportation, safety, and being a woman in Cape Town. However, we were stuck. It’s 7am, we are already out of town, we have to be at this place before 9, and this guy is offering us to take us there, just being sketchy about it. We allow him to pull over and cancel the trip. The quote that uber originally gave us was 750 Rand for the way there (rand to dollars is around 11:1). He says he’ll take 500 Rand for the whole thing. For him, it’s not actually a discount because uber takes 75% anyways and he doesn't need to pay taxes. For us, we save 250 rand. It’s a win-win. We spend another hour in the car. The man driving the uber was named Gabriel and he had lived in Cape Town for 28 years. He didn’t even put in directions to where we were going even though it was way outside of Cape Town. Of course he gets lost. I don’t get why people feel the need to prove how “local” they are by doing things like that. Just use your map. Jeez man. We end up having to put the map into Natasha’s phone because there is basically no service where we were so her wifi hotspot is the closest thing to internet that we had. We roll up to the nature reserve where we are going zip lining, finally, and there is a gatehouse where you need to check in before driving one more kilometer up the road to the actual headquarters/cafe of the zip lining company. Natasha and I realized how far in the middle of nowhere we were, but we figured we could call an uber when we were finished and it would take maybe 30 minutes to get there. The zipline company offers no transportation to or from the middle of nowhere, there is no public transportation anywhere close, and taxis in cape town are basically unusable because they're so sketchy and they will charge you crazy amounts because they know they might get away with it. When we get out of the car, we are told almost immediately that we need to tell our uber driver to WAIT for four hours while we zipline because we will be unable to call one when we are done because we are in the middle of the middle of nowhere. Great!!!! What a reasonable request. The woman at the front desk phones the gatehouse and tells Gabriel to turn around and wait for us until we are done. He is so sweet he says that he will and we don’t even need to pay him. Just 500 Rand there and 500 Rand back. So $50 per person round trip for over 3 hours of driving. Not bad. Ziplining was hard to describe. It was so insane every time I’ve trie dot describe it, it sounds hyperbolic. We were driven in a big jeep-truck thing about 20 minutes through the bumpiest road I’ve ever driven on. Several times I actually thought we were going to tip over and fall down the cliff. The entire thing was so full of adrenaline even the car ride felt wild. We zip lined for four hours. Besides walking to the first platform and hiking out of the canyon, there was literally no walking, just zip lining from mountain to mountain. It was insane. We were hundreds of feet up. Each zipline was 500 feet or longer. Below us was hundreds of feet and then a rocky canyon with waterfalls and rovers throughout it. The drought isn’t as serious the farther you get out of CT so a lot of the vegetation was green and full. There were trees and bushes and flowers and lizards. It was beautiful. The dirt is red and full of clay. Everything seemed so saturated. In our group it was me, Natasha, and a Dutch couple who were in CT for vacation. They were very nice. Every time we got to the next zipine (approximately every 10 or 15 minutes), we had to jump off ourselves. I cannot describe the amount of self control it takes to willingly jump off of a platform above a canyon hundreds of feet in the air suspended by nothing but a wire. We were flying at up to 40 miles an hour suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. Calling it exhilarating feels like an understatement. When I got back to my hostel, I decided to rally and go to the beach before dinner. I covered myself in sunscreen and walked down to the ocean with some girls who live in the same building as me named Sydney, Emilie, and Natasha (same Natasha). It was really nice. I’m reading a book called When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron and every paragraph makes me stop and think about my worldview. It’s totally fantastic and spiritual without being annoying about it. As I am writing this, it is Monday. This morning was rough because I have very little food here besides bread and cereal and whatever is made for dinner. I usually go for peanut butter toast but this morning there was no peanut butter so I just had bread and butter. I thought i could make coffee with a lot of milk for protein and I heated up my milk but then we were out of instant coffee. Thankfully, Coll showed up and handled it and got us new food. Coll is actually superwoman. It is a great injustice that I have not payed tribute to her or her daughter, Shannon, since I have been blogging about my experiences in Africa. Shannon basically runs SAVE volunteers as far as I can see. She is the go-to manager. She runs our lives. From having enough food, to transport, to daily activities, it’s all her (and another manager Robyn who is equally great). Shannon is Coll’s daughter. Coll is around 65 years old and makes dinner for us every night Monday-Saturday. She’s vegetarian and is very evangelical about it. At least 3 days a week I have very long conversations with her about politics, gender identity, sexism, vegetarianism, and general humanity among other things. She’s brilliant without being self important or condescending towards younger generations, even though she totally could be. Did I mention she cooks for over a hundred people every day? Yeah, pretty wild. Today there was no peanut butter or instant coffee and when I told her, all of a sudden peanut butter and instant coffee appeared. Here, where food is not diverse and sometimes scarce, that is nothing short of a miracle. So, yeah, the ladies who run this program are badass and fun in all of the right ways.

Currently, I am having a lot of trouble deciding if I’m leaving South Africa. If you are reading this and have advice, I need it. Fill my ears. I want to be on the beach and the project I thought I was going to go to next is in Turkey and it’s cold and not on the beach. I know this sounds small and kind of self-indulgent and a priority only a teenager would have, but it’s actually a big deal for me. My quality of life by the water changes a lot. Having access to go to the beach, and swim, walk, etc. gives me so much energy. I love the energy of towns near the beach and it makes me want to stay in Table View, South Africa because everything here is set up and I’m near the beach, even though I don’t particularly feel a strong need to do exactly this kind of volunteering for a whole extra month. I have been looking for places in Central and South America because I would love to improve my Spanish, but almost all of those would be working at a hostel which I think would be fun and I could meet lots of people and work on my language skills, but my parents would see it as pretty meaningless and I don’t blame them. It doesn't help other people, it would just be fun, new, casual, and something I probably an experience I would never have again. If anyone knows of a permaculture farm on the beach somewhere where it is warm (besides Australia, I know there are tons there but I don’t want to ask for the money for that plane flight), please let me know. I don’t want to take away from my experience here by looking everywhere for a new project, but I am also itching to go new places after this and only have clothes and supplies to be in warm weather, and the emotional disposition to be at the beach. I don’t want to just sit around. Meaningful work is, well, meaningful, but the environment in which I am doing that work is super important to me as well because I only get one Gap Year and it is going to be a while before I go to do something this eccentric and carefree again. Harvard isn’t a beach vacation.

Peace, Q

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imagine-me-here · 7 years

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Steve and Steve (Steve Rogers x reader)

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July, which also means it’s Steve 99th birthday. After digging through your grandma’s attic, you’ve finally found the perfect gift. Media: Captain America, with some Wonder Woman! Genre: fluff, bit o’ crack, bit o’ angst Warnings: mentions of WWII and the sexism prevalent in that time Word count: 2,186 Notes: late and rambley, as per usual

Dust billowed around the room as you dug through the attic, clearing empty boxes out of the way and going through full ones. You smiled. If there was one thing your grandma was known for, it was collecting things--not stamps or coins, but any little thing she found, which you thought was much more endearing. Hand-painted beads, fine silver necklace chains, and bottle caps in different languages were all part of her collection, but there were two things you loved the most: an enlistment flyer depicting Captain America urging women to join the army, and a photograph of her in her nurse’s uniform, holding a book, standing next to the one and only Star Spangled Man with a Plan.

You remember when she first showed you these keepsakes. You were only six years old, but it was then and there that you not only fell in love with Captain America, but made him your role model. There was no other mantra you lived by more consistently than “What would Captain America do?” Of course, you had had no idea that you actually end up dating the Captain.

The doorbell rung and you bounded down the stairs, throwing the door open.

“(Y/N)!”

“Grandma!”

You leant down and gave her a hug, then pushed her wheelchair to the kitchen.

“Happy Fourth of July!” She exclaimed as you handed her a cup of tea. Your grandmother was one of the most stubborn people you had ever met, refusing to stop drinking her afternoon tea even on Independence Day.

“And to you too! Grandma, I was going through the attic and you won’t believe what I found.”

She laughed heartily. “Try me, dear. I collected some pretty bizarre trinkets through my years...and I’ve collected as many years as I have trinkets!”

“Yeah, but I don’t think anything could top this.” You carried over the box and put it on the table, handing her the flyer and the photograph. You watched as her eyes filled with melancholy, and you knew she was thinking about the war.

“I’m sorry, grandma, I didn’t mean for you to…”

“Oh, nonsense,” she said, although she wiped away a tear when she thought you weren’t looking. “It’s Independence Day. I can’t be sad on Independence Day. I remember when exactly when this photo was taken. Strangely enough, it was 75 years ago, to the day. Which means it was also your boyfriend’s birthday,” she said, winking. “Speaking of, what are you going to get him?”

No one else knew about your relationship with Steve, except for the other Avengers and your grandmother.

“I’m not sure, grandma. I really wanted to get him something special for his 99th birthday, believe me, but between work and school I don’t know where time went.”

“You’re in luck, dear, because I know just the thing.” She dug around the cardboard box, pulling out a paper bag and handing it to you. Cautiously, you reached inside. Three original first-print Wonder Woman comics.

“Grandma,” you breathed. “Where did you get these?”

“All of the women in the army would get them in their welcome package, along with their uniform. It meant a great deal more than you can imagine, being able to read about a woman, even a fictional one, kicking Nazi ass just as well, if not better, than the men.”

“Grandma!”

“What? It’s true. And being a female officer at the time was quite a challenge. If you weren’t avoiding shellfire while trying to clean a gunshot wound, you were being catcalled by your fellow soldiers.” She picked up the photograph again and pointed out the books tucked under her arm. “Those are the comics I was carrying. I remember them well because as we waited for the photographer to get ready, Captain America and I talked about how much we loved Wonder Woman. Just as the photo was taken he told me how I was prettier than the Amazon herself.”

The young woman in the photo wore a huge smile, and despite the fact that it was in black and white, you could tell she was blushing.

“Now go give these to your boyfriend,” she said, handing you the paper bag and the photograph. As you left the house, you heard her calling “And give him a kiss from me!”

It was a bit of squeeze, between visiting your grandma, packing a bag at the DC apartment you shared with Steve, and catching a flight to New York, but you managed anyway. As a journalist, you had mastered the art of multitasking, especially on a deadline.

Your flight landed at LaGuardia at just after five, leaving you enough time to get to Avengers Tower before dinner. Tony had planned a joint Cap’s birthday/Fourth of July celebration, and knowing how insane Tony’s parties could get, you didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

As your Uber pulled up to the airport, you fired off a quick text to Steve letting him know you had landed safely. You reaches down to put your phone away in your backpack and felt the brown paper bag. Phew. Still intact. You were no comic collector, but first-edition Wonder Womans had to be worth a least a few thousand.

You approached Avengers Tower and tipped the driver extra, wishing him a happy Fourth of July. A tall figure in a white suit came into view, walking briskly down the hall.

“Thanks, Ms. Potts,” you said as she unlocked the door

“Please, (Y/N), call me Pepper. It's after five, so I'm officially off office hours.” She reached up and pulled her strawberry blonde hair out of its perfect chignon, shaking it out and letting it fall stylishly across her shoulders.

“Ooh, this pepper is getting spicy!” You exclaimed, high-fiving her.

The two of you rode the glass elevator up to the penthouse. Below you could already see miniature bursts of colour as people set off backyard, or rather rooftop, fireworks. Tony Stark was probably the only person in New York City who could afford a backyard big enough.

The doors opened and you saw Tony, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers hanging decorations and preparing food and drinks. Vision hung streamers on every possible surface. Wanda, Nat, and Bruce mixed drinks while Bucky grilled hamburgers. Tony hooked up his surround sound system to his laptop as Thor stared, bewildered, at the screen, trying to figure out who Spotify was and how she could hold thousands of songs in this thin rectangle. Scott, Clint, and Sam dug through a box of disguises for the photo booth. And Steve--wait, where was Steve?

“Happy Fourth of July, babe,” Steve whispered, popping up behind you and nearly giving you a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ!” You said, lightly punching him on the arm.

“Nope, just Captain America. Sorry to disappoint.” You rolled your eyes at this stupid joke.

“How did I end up with someone as silly as you? You’re supposed to be some gallant, suave, heroic national icon, not a dad joke generator.”

“Yeah, Steve! Don’t be ridiculous. This is no time for your antics,” Sam said, bedecked in a stars-and-stripes top hat and a fake white beard.

“Very mature, Uncle Sam,” Steve said.

“I was worried you guys were gonna start the party without me,” you said to Steve.

“In the words of the immortal Ke$ha, I believe, ‘The party don’t start til you walk in’.”

“Wow. Really brushing up on your current top 40 hits, are you?”

“Shut up. That song is what, two years old?”

“I think about five,” you replied.

“Seven,” you heard Pepper call from the kitchen.

“No, four,” Tony added.

“Seven.”

“Trust me, four.”

“Seven!”

“JARVIS, when was Ke$ha’s Tik Tok released?” Tony asked, exasperated

“Tik Tok, off Ke$ha’s debut album, was released in 2010, sir.”

Tony turned back to Pepper with a knowing look. “Told you.” Pepper rolled her eyes at him and Tony stuck out his tongue in response.

“Look, babe, it’s you and me in five years.”

“Don’t count on it. I don’t think I can put up with your dad jokes and outdated references for that long.”

It wasn’t even midnight and you were already exhausted. All of the travel, mixed with an unhealthy dose of alcohol, had you nearly dozing off.

“Sleeping Beauty need a wittle naptime?”

“Shut your face, Bucky. I travelled 400 kilometers today. What did you do? Besides make out with Steve?”

The Winter Soldier blushed and turned away, refusing to make eye contact for the rest of the night.

“You coming to see the fireworks, sweetheart?” Steve asked, nudging you off his shoulder.

You looked and smiled at him. “Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

The two of you joined the rest of the party out on Tony’s sprawling balcony, where a box of fireworks and a bucket of sand lay.

“So I made fireworks for each one of you. We'll set off the normal ones and then you can each come up and light yours,” Tony said, standing in front of the crowd.

“Did he just say ‘made fireworks’?” You whispered to Pepper.

“I tried as hard as I could, (Y/N). He finally said that I was right, it was too dangerous, and he was going to do some paperwork. It wasn't until I heard the explosion in the basement that I realised, but he had locked me out of the lab. I tried, (Y/N), I really did.” You nodded sympathetically. Once Tony had set his mind in something, there was no changing it.

Tony set off fireworks and Steve sat down beside you, pulling your fleece blanket off of you and wrapping it around himself.

“Hey, if you keep acting like a jerk you won't get your present.”

“You have presents?” He asked, eyes wide.

“Of course! It's your birthday, and you're the one and only Star--”

“Don't you fucking dare.”

“Language! Golly-gosh, you have a potty mouth.” You reached into your purse and pulled out the paper bag, handing it to him. Tentatively, he reached in and pulled out the three comics, well-thumbed through but still in mint condition.

“Don't tell me these are…” his voice trailed off as his crystal blue eyes met yours. You nodded, and he stated at the comics incredulously. “How?”

“My grandmother,” you said, showing him the picture. “She was a nurse in the 250th Station Hospital Nurses. She says she you told her--”

“That she was prettier than Diana,” Steve interrupted, a sad smile on his face. “I remember her, (Y/N). Is she still…?”

“Yeah, I visited her this morning,” you said. You were grinning, but you hadn't realised that tears were slipping down your cheek. “So, you were a Wonder Woman fan?”

“Always was, always will be. She was my first fictional crush. Everytime she called out for Steve, I imagined she was calling my name.”

“If my subtraction is right, weren't you 24 years old?”

“I saved the world, like, seven times, so you have no right to make fun of me.”

You took a couple rocket pops from the box Clint was passing around and handed one to your boyfriend “Sure, Capsicle. Does that mean I should be jealous of Wonder Woman?”

“Of course not! But, if you ever wanted to wear a golden tiara, I would be totally down for that.”

“‘Totally down’? Catching on fast with the lingo.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want to say thank you for the gift. It was a difficult time, and I'm sorry if I ever seem closed off about it. Especially after what happened with Bucky...I wanted to seal that part of my life away for a very, very long time. But I realised that back then, like now, there were little glimmers of good. I might've met her for three minutes, but that's all I needed to know that your grandmother was one of those bright spots. Can you do something for me, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, love.”

“Go visit your grandma and give her a kiss from me.”

“I will, Steve, I will.” You hugged him tightly and he wiped away a fresh tear. “Can I have a kiss from you too, Mister America?”

“I'm pretty sure there's supposed to be a captain in there.”

You watched as each person set off their themed fireworks, one by one. Finally, it was Steve's turn and you could see his sad smile, still melancholy, bathed in pale moonlight and etched in memories. blue, white, and red embers sparkled in the sky.

He kissed you as the last of the fireworks went off, little sparks in your country's colours exploding above your head. He pulled away and looked at you, the red, white, and blue embers reflected on your faces.

“You're more beautiful than Diana herself.”

“You're more handsome than Steve Trevor.”

“Hey, when this thing ends, can we go see Wonder Woman?”

“We'll see,” you said, but then Steve offered his hand to dance under the fireworks, and you knew the answer would be yes.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve trevor #wonder woman #fanfic #marvel #i didn't use italics what the heck

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areswriting · 5 years

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a x e : xxxviii

“You and I are many things, but simple isn’t one of them,” I say against her neck. “And I’m happy to hear you finally admit that you’ve used me for sex.”

“Abram,” snorts Elise. “I’m having a profound moment and that’s all you take away from it? And please—that was a two way street.”

I shake my head. “It isn’t using if you’re doing it for the right reason.”

She clicks her tongue. “Mm, and what reason is the right reason?”

“Quand tu aimes quelqu'un,” I whisper. “And my God, do I love you.”

When her lips won’t budge, she uses her body to say it back.

△ △ △

“I hope he chokes,” says Ellie, nearly falling out of the Uber.

I catch her and mouth an apology to the driver, who for the last hour has heard nothing but drunken rambling from her—most of which consisted of how much of an ass Brody Jonathan Hunter is.

“I mean, I hope he plays like he can’t stop a quadriplegic!”

“Ellie,” hisses Elise, her fingers lacing through mine. “You’re going to get kicked out before we even make it in.”

“Brody Hunter SUCKS,” she shouts, hands around her mouth. I’m certain everyone at Staples Center heard her.

Elise squeezes my hand, and when I look down at her she presses a kiss against the corner of my mouth. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her so you can enjoy yourself tonight.”

“I can think of other ways I could enjoy myself right now,” I say, then lick my lips.

“Abram,” Elise says, her cheeks turning red. “That’s bedroom talk.”

“Oh GOD,” says Ellie dramatically. “You two together makes me want to throw up.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to throw up because of tequila and your poor life decisions?” says Elise.

I laugh. “Why didn’t you invite Mr. Whatshisface?”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Abram?”

“You’re the one complaining about being lonely,” I say, shrugging. “While you’re going to watch your ex-boyfriend’s first NHL game.”

Ellie folds her arms and sinks into herself as we get in line to check our tickets, but her quiet only lasts until we get to our seats.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

I almost trip over a step when I see Natasha by the boards, covered only by a black and white jersey with HUNTER printed across her shoulders. She turns her head toward us, rolls her eyes and looks back at the ice.

My eyes follow, and that’s when I see him. Full goalie gear concealed by black and white—a shield on his chest with a crown and two letters I always dreamed of wearing. A knot forms in my stomach and I move mechanically to my seat and fall into it while everyone around me stands.

I know I should be happy for Brody, but all I can taste is jealousy—because I should be down there with him.

He lifts his helmet, smiling his Cheshire cat smile, and raises his glove at me.

I force myself to smile back at him as I wave weakly.

“YOU SUCK!” shouts Ellie.

All I see is Elise’s arm and Ellie falling back into the seat beside hers.

��It’s nice to see that she still hasn’t matured.”

I don’t notice that Natasha is sitting beside me until she speaks, and even then I feel myself lean to the left, onto Elise.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” I say. “You know, since you and Brody split.”

“We’re talking again,” she says without looking at me. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

Tongue in cheek, I take in a deep breath through my nose. “He really only tells me the important stuff in his life.”

Natasha breathes out a laugh as she swirls her iced coffee around. “You can hate me all you want, Kai—but I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s Abram,” I snap, fingers curling into tight fists.

“Who cares,” she says, glancing at me. “It’s not like you’re important enough for anyone to remember. If you were, you’d be out there, with Brody. And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be in the nosebleeds.”

Two tiny hands catch my wrist before it can smash into the boards in front of me.

“Abram,” says Elise firmly. “Don’t make me stand in front of you.”

“He should consider therapy,” says Natasha. “Before he hits you.”

“You should consider minding your own business before I drench your cheap extensions in the coffee you’re drinking,” snaps Elise as she stands over me, finger pointed in Natasha’s face.

“Birds of a feather,” says Natasha. “I guess your step-dad taught you a thing or two.”

I jump to my feet and take the stairs two at a time, leaving Ellie and Elise screaming my name in my wake.

△ △ △

I wake with a start, my spine snapping me forward. I look around, unsure of where I am until I see a blurry Gigi setting a coffee cup down in front of me.

“Breakfast is done,” she says and shakes a bottle of Excedrin. “Take two and sip your coffee.”

I open my mouth, but decide to swallow my question along with two pills: how did I get here? Patting my pockets, I find my phone and pull it out. It’s one in the afternoon and I have over a hundred missed calls between Elise and Ellie, and another ten from Brody. My voicemail box is full and I’m grateful that my phone dies in my hand before I can look at my text messages.

But that’s when I see a paper wrist band stamped OVER 21, and I have no idea how it got there.

“You should let the meds kick in before you try to think too much,” quips Gigi, metal serving tray in hand. She places it gently on my lap and I choke back a gag from the smell of the scrambled eggs. “Trust me, this is hangover magic.”

I nod and hold by breath as I take a bite of them.

“By the way,” she says, settling into an arm chair. “Elise is on her way over to pick you up. She said something about hockey practice?”

Toast falls out of my hand and my jaw goes slack. I don’t know what I’m more scared of: the fact that I was supposed to be at practice at 9am, or Elise.

Definitely Elise.

“She was relieved to know you were here,” says Gigi after a sip of tea. “I would remove that wristband, though. I told her you were here all night.”

I look down at my left wrist, not hesitating to break the seal and tear it away. “Thanks.”

“Your relationship with her is none of my concern—your safety, however, is. Would it be fair to say you have no idea how you got here?” she asks, but doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Does a tall, handsome blond with a southern drawl ring any bells?”

My eyebrows crease and I slowly shake my head.

“I can’t for the life of me remember his name—he said he plays with you at UCLA.”

“…Brantley?” I say, face screwed up.

Gigi snaps her fingers. “That’s it. What a relief. I almost thought I let a complete stranger sleep in the den.”

“I was with Brantley?” I say. “He stayed here?”

She nods. Standing when the doorbell rings. “He tried to wake you before he left, but you wouldn’t budge.”

I close my eyes, willing myself to remember: there are neon lights, glow sticks and drag queens burned into my memory. But I’ve never been to a drag show…

“Oh mon Dieu, Abram!” says Elise, running toward me. She pulls me into a hug, then pushes me away. “I was worried sick!”

“Je peux expliquer,” I say.

△ △ △

“You were at a gay bar?” Ellie laughs herself into a coughing fit. “With who? Because it wasn’t with your boyfriend.”

I look at her in the rear view mirror and sink further into the passenger’s seat.

“Or your girlfriend,” says Elise as she aggressively changes lanes.

“Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?” I say.

“Don’t be cute,” she snaps. “I knew Gigi was lying for you—and now I think you’re lying to me. Why would you go to a gay bar? Who did you go to a gay bar with?”

I hesitate. “Brantley.”

“Who is Brantley?”

“Wait—are you saying Brantley is gay?” says Ellie.

“Who is Brantley?” snaps Elise a second time.

“We’ve been over this,” says Ellie, “He’s the guy Abram punched during practice. Of course he’s gay—no straight man is that good-looking.”

“I don’t know if he’s gay,” I say. “I just know I was with him watching a drag show.”

“Male or female?” says Ellie.

I put my hands over my face. “Both.”

Elise pulls into our apartment complex and yells at Ellie, who is still howling with laughter, to get out of the car. She pulls into a parking spot, slams the car into a park and folds her arms.

“Abram,” she starts, “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but you can’t do this to me.”

“In my defense, I don’t really remember much of it,” I say, glancing over at her.

She sighs loudly. “I don’t care that you went to a gay bar! That isn’t the point!”

“Then what’s the point?” I say loudly.

“I let you in, I let myself trust you—and you ran!” she says, voice shaking. “We promised each other things would be different. I have abandonment issues—and you left me, Abram. You left and didn’t look back!”

I undo my seatbelt and lean over the middle console, taking her face in my hands. I wipe her tears away, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “I’m sorry, Elise—I didn’t mean—”

“—no one ever means to, Abram,” she cries. “My dad didn’t mean to stay out of my life, he didn’t mean to hurt me—but he did. And you, God. You’ve got this power to destroy me whenever you want—”

“—Elise, I wouldn’t—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, “Not on purpose, but here we are.”

“I love you, Elise,” I say. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I won’t—I won’t run from you again. I promise."

#ae #my writing

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