Captinamericashusband - Yes, "Captain" Is Spelled Wrong :(

Sober Thoughts | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Stark!Male!Reader

REUPLOAD A/N: Hi. It is currently 12:41 AM – another restless night unfortunately sigh. After watching a YouTube video of someone reading the infamous Harry Potter fanfiction My Immortal (I love you Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way), I became filled with unbridled inspiration to write something of my own. Anyways, enjoy! Also this is the very first fanfiction I’ve ever written. Please please please (by Sabrina Carpenter) give constructive feedback that won’t be too harsh on my little soul. This’ll be a fluffy fanfic. I'll dabble in smut later on maybe if y'all enjoy this enough...teehee. Happy BRAT summer/autumn 💚

P.S. Any errors you see will be excused by the fact English is not my first language and NOT because I suck at writing and revising ;) This fic will also be posted on Ao3 after they accept my invitation. Pls let me in Ao3.

Sober Thoughts

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Y/N gets very drunk in front of Steve

Warnings: Alcohol, profanity

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Being the son of Pepper Potts and the eccentric billionaire, playboy and philanthropist (in that exact order) Tony Stark came with its fair share of drawbacks. While financial security was a given for Y/N, a side that came with this coverage was endless PR events. Being the sole heir to the Stark company, Y/N was forcefully thrusted into the public eye at a very young age, constantly forced to appear at social gatherings for the general public to gain somewhat of a perception of him – hopefully for the better. Today was one of these socially exhausting days, and perhaps his least favourite event of all – the annual ‘Stark Gala: proceeds going to various charities!’ A boring name he is very well aware of, and yes the ‘proceeds going to various charities’ line was annoyingly part of the title – something he had so valiantly fought Tony on, albeit unsuccessfully. 

The gala starts in 2 hours. Currently, in stereotypical Stark fashion, Y/N lay sedentary on his bed, staring at the ceiling whilst pondering for ways to escape the tiring event. Amidst his angsty mood, a knock arose from his door followed by Tony entering his room. 

“Hey bud, no more moping around,” he said after flipping the light switch in Y/N's room, “gala’s not gonna dance itself.”

Y/N turned and laid on his belly, eyes stuffed into his pillow in an attempt to suppress the bright lights, “What if I just don’t come, dad? Just chalk my absence to a cold for the press, please. I have no will nor strength to do this.” 

“You know you can’t do that, Y/N/N. The public requests you grace them with your holy presence at the gala.”

“Dad, what if I just set fire to the venue?”

Tony scoffed at his son's comment. “Don’t bother with that sassy attitude, kid. It’ll be over in a flash. Just enjoy, grab some drinks – and hey you might even find yourself a nice date there.” He said, adjusting a frame on the wall. “My best advice is mingle until your mouth falls off – my dad used to say that to me.” 

As Tony continued slightly tidying Y/N's room, a muffled groan erupted from his pillow. Y/N knew he was very well right; there was no escaping. Resigning to his fate, he abruptly stood up from his bed and began rummaging through his closet. “Fine. I’m going because I want to go, not because you’re forcing me to.”

Tony chuckled and ruffled Y/N's hair. “That’s the spirit, champ. I promise you these things can be fun if you let them. Soak up the atmosphere. And enjoy the drinks.” He then murmured, “Just not too much, as well ‘cause…you know.” 

Tony’s sudden shift in tone was in reference to Y/N's relationship with alcohol. While Tony was notorious for being able to hold his liquor, the alcohol-tolerance gene had unfortunately not been passed down to his son. The last time Y/N drank, which had been at Clint’s birthday party, he had somehow woken up inside of a dumpster – not even exaggerating. Another time, he had taken a plane to Washington and found himself passed out on a bench outside the Pentagon – also not a hyperbole. Aware of this knowledge, Y/N planned on getting absolutely wasted in order to pass the time and to make the night somewhat memorable. 

Y/N ran a hand through his hair attempting to fix it whilst looking for proper attire. “Yes, yes I know, father figure. Do you promise it won’t be boring like last year?”

Tony feigned an offended look, putting his palm against his chest. “Boring? There was an open bar and a chocolate fountain – all appearing again this year, by the way. What more could a man ask for?”

“To not come.” Y/N said begrudgingly.

“Okay well sometimes certain things can’t be provided, sugar plum.” A grimace found itself on Y/N's face after hearing the nickname. Before he could respond, Tony was already halfway through the door. “Anyways, be ready by 8; we’re leaving at 8:30 sharp.”

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The night was, to say the least, already an absolute dread. Upon arriving at the upper-echelon-esque museum where the gala was being held, Y/N was already drained. After exiting the limousine that took both him and Tony to the museum, a torrent of camera flashes had blinded Y/N. Furthermore, before even entering the museum, a news reporter had shoved a microphone into his face and asked a very invasive question about his lovelife. Before Y/N could insult the reporter’s rude behaviour, Tony quickly grabbed his arm and ushered him into the museum. 

It was very well aware by the public of Y/N's choice of abstaining from dating, never really having any serious relationships. This was especially questionable for the public considering who his father was, with everyone believing Y/N would’ve followed in lieu of his behaviour during his 20’s. 

However, what the public didn’t know was that the reason for Y/N's singleness was because of one of his dad’s blonde colleagues (that wasn’t Thor). Y/N's crush for  Steve Rogers AKA Captain America had simmered for the last few months. It began during an incident in the Avenger’s Compound in which the inherent Stark idiocy had decided to bite Y/N severely in the ass.

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It had been late at night and Y/N had been tinkering on some project in one of Tony’s spare workshops in the compound when his phone suddenly rang. Picking it up, he saw Tony was calling him. He paused the music blaring in the workshop’s speakers before answering his dad. 

“Hey bud, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it, father figure?” He set down a screwdriver he was holding down on the workshop table.

“First, you know I hate it when you call me that. Second, there are some files that were delivered to my office that need to be put into storage in the room beside the training area. Would you mind doing it for me?”

“And why can’t you get Happy or yourself to do it?”

“Well I am actually currently at dinner right now with your mother and we are having a blast right now, and Happy is enjoying a paid holiday in the Bahamas.” 

With an overexaggerated sigh, Y/N hung up on Tony and accepted without further question. 

Heading towards Tony’s office, he marvelled at the emptiness of the Avenger’s Compound. While he never interacted much with the Avengers, only in passing, he was aware that some of them were nightowlers. However, there really was no one. Usually, there would be at least a SHIELD agent somewhere, but tonight the building was completely desolate. 

Upon arriving at Tony’s office, Y/N immediately noticed the large boxes propped on his dad's desk. He had clearly underestimated the sizes of the office boxes, with one he (very dramatically) guesstimated being the size of his torso’s length with a width of a baby whale. Unfortunately for him, there were 5 boxes in total. Being the impatient ass he is, he had decided to carry all of the boxes in one go to spare himself having to return to Tony’s office for a second trip. He noticeably struggled and after leaving Tony’s office, he immediately regretted his decision, wishing he inherited more of his mother’s patience. From a bystander's perspective, it was a comical sight seeing Y/N Stark carrying a tower of boxes almost twice his height. 

After rounding a sharp corner – something that could’ve been easily avoided considering the size of the building’s hallways – Y/N  crashed right into another person. Y/N, along with the boxes, crashed loudly and painfully against the cement floor. 

"Shit," Y/N said out loud. The embarrassment from the predicament was too much for him, so he opted for keeping his eyes on the ground, seemingly becoming very interested in the flooring's designed patterns. He stayed in that position, wallowing in his shame until the other person he had forgotten about spoke up.

"Sorry about that, kid." A low and husky voice spoke above Y/N. Y/N moved his eyes from the floor to the other man in the hallway. He was met with piercing blue eyes and a head of light blonde hair. Great. Not only had he embarrassed himself in front of someone, but that certain someone had to be Captain America of all people. Flashing the best smile he could conjure, Y/N stood up from the floor in an attempt to save as much face as possible.

"No, no, it was all my fault Steve," Y/N chirped. Wow, he sounded like a complete wimp. Not only that, but he called Captain America by his actual legal government name. Y/N did not consider himself close enough to call Captain America Steve. The situation was further going off the rails as they both stood in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, Steve spoke again, breaking the suffocating air of awkwardness.     

"Need help with those." Steve said, smiling slightly at Y/N. Thinking back on it now, it was definitely the smile that got Y/N hooked into Steve. With a curt nod, both of the men started cleaning the mess of files. "Do these need to be in a specific order?" Steve questioned. Quite frankly, Y/N did not care for the files' order; he was much more preoccupied with the strange feeling down in his stomach. He slapped himself internally before answering Steve.

"I'm not sure actually. The person reading these can decipher that themself." Steve chuckled at his words. An actual, genuine laugh. Y/N found whatever he said to not be as funny Steve was making it out to be. But nevertheless, good job Y/N! You made Captain America laugh at something you said! After tidying the files, the two of them started walking, Y/N in the lead with Steve following in his stead. 

"Where to, Stark Jr.?"  

"The storage room by the training grounds."

The walk to the files' designated area was filled with silence – not uncomfortable like before, but instead a somewhat pleasant quiet. Deciding to be bold, Y/N asked Steve a question.

"What do you do all day?" Wow, Y/N didn't intend on that sounding as rude as it did. 

"What do you mean?" Steve responded.

"Like, what do you do when there isn't a mission where you have to save the world or anything." Great save, Y/N said to himself.

"Well, if there isn't a mission I usually train in the gym – nothing bad in doing some extra training. Other than that, I usually visit SHIELD's headquarters to do business that I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." He turned and smiled at Y/N after saying the last part. The strange feeling was there again.

"That honestly sounds like a miserable existence."  Y/N said. Steve laughed and Y/N smiled, proud of himself for making Captain America laugh a second time this night. "Do you have any actual free time at all?"

"The only time we get to ourselves are weekends. I typically go for jogs in the morning then catch up on any work I didn't get to finish from the weekday. By the time I finish, it's already pretty late at night." As Steve continued to talk, Y/N couldn't help but sneak glances at him. Y/N had noticed a smile was etched on Steve's face and he wondered if it was because Steve enjoyed his company or if he was merely entertained by their topic of conversation. "If I have any time to spare, I like to draw. I've started taking painting classes recently."  

Y/N debated on whether or not to make a joke about Steve's work and him not "finishing" fast enough, but thought it was too weird even for him. "Wow, even on your day off your life sounds bland – aside from the drawing part I guess." Steve had laughed once more at what Y/N said, and Y/N silently applauded himself once again.   

Steve's smile persisted despite Y/N's slight insult to his daily life. "My turn to ask. What do you do all day? I never see you around that much." 

"That's 'cause I'm usually cooped up in a lab somewhere doing tech stuff I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." Steve chuckled again. "If I'm not doing techy stuff, then I'm usually doing boring paperwork for Stark industries. And if I'm not doing that, I'm sleeping peacefully in my bed."

"Now I'm offended by you calling my life bland when yours’ is equally as boring, Y/N," Steve joked.

"It'd be more exciting if you were in it." Oh Y/N, what exactly are you saying now? Suddenly, the signature Stark flirtiness accumulated within Y/N as the next words left his lips. "You should join me on my bed sometime." Oh sweet Jesus. Even Y/N himself shriveled from pure disgust at what he just said. It wasn't even a remotely good pickup line. He fully expected Steve to bolt away as soon as possible and leave him behind with the behemoth-sized boxes.   

Before Steve could respond, the pair found themselves in front of the storage room. Steve opened the door for Y/N who could only mumble a quiet thanks in response as he was still shaken up from his earlier misspeaking. Finding a secluded table in the room, Y/N set down the boxes with Steve following in suit. The two then exited the room and found themselves in yet again another uncomfortable silence. Before Y/N could hurriedly escape, Steve spoke.  

"You should get out of your lab more. I'd like to see more of you around if that's possible." Upon hearing that, the feeling from earlier was present again in Y/N's stomach except it had been exponentially stronger this time. "I enjoyed talking with you, Y/N."  

It was as if Y/N had lost any inkling of social awareness as he said his next remark. "You'd practically have to pry me off a workbench with those big arms of yours, Steve."  

Steve only laughed in response, clearly somewhat amused by Y/N's bold eccentricity. "I'll see you around, Y/N." Steve started walking away before suddenly turning around with a smirk on his mouth. "Oh, and I'll take you up on that earlier offer." 

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Ironically enough, Y/N and Steve have yet to converse with each other again after their brief encounter. This was mainly due to Y/N avoiding Steve after having said his embarrassing comments – especially about Steve's arms, something Y/N can't help but gag at upon reflection. Looking back at their moment together, Y/N can only sigh and hope the super soldier forgot about his humiliating behaviour. 

Looking around the museum, Y/N stared in awe at the inside's appearance. The building itself had replicated the architecture and grandeur of Ancient Greece, with large columns on the building's interior and exterior. While the building itself was an architectural beauty, what really stood out were the floral decorations garnered around the room, both on the tables surrounding the middle of the museum designated as a dance floor and hanging in between the interior pillars. Y/N had to remind himself to find his mother later, who arrived hours earlier to help decorate, and commend her keen taste in floral arrangements. 

Y/N's moment taking in the interior decor was interrupted when he was approached by Tony and a stubby man wearing a suit. Tony introduced the man to Y/N who turned out to be one of Stark Industries' business partners. Nothing notable was said in their conversation aside from numbers and Y/N's vision for the future of Stark Industries. This was how the first half of the night went: Tony introduced Y/N to one of his business partners, boring conversations about logistics would ensue, Y/N was asked about his ideas on Stark Industries' future – rinse and repeat. After numerous runs of this seemingly perpetual cycle, Y/N's social battery had been absolutely drained and Operation Get-Drunk-And-Pass-Out was set in motion. Excusing himself from Tony's presence, Y/N ran a beeline towards the bar, his stride swift with determination to get his hands on anything alcoholic.

Taking a seat at the bar, Y/N began thinking about what he would drink. Suddenly forgetting every alcoholic beverage that ever existed, he waved down the bartender to get his first drink of the night. "I'd like whatever will get me the most piss-faced, please." The bartender simply gave him a cordial smile and nod before pouring a single clear liquid into a small shot glass. He then gave Y/N the glass who before drinking said, "bottoms up." The mystery liquid was absolutely repulsive and scorched Y/N's throat. His face puckered up in pain, eyes shut as tears formed at the brim of his ducts. "Jesus, dude, what is this!?"

"Everclear." The man answered with a very thick Russian accent. Y/N had no idea what that was nor was aware of its very high alcoholic percentage, almost being pure alcohol.  What he did know was the vile taste and painful burn signified it was able to get him 100% wasted. 

"I'll take 10 more of those, please."

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At shot four, Y/N's vision had started getting blurry, his lips and skin felt tingly, and he kept laughing at the most nonsensical things to laugh at. His drunkenness was made very apparent for everyone at the bar when he pointed towards someone's poorly trimmed goatee and laughed maniacally at it. While his actions had been in poor-taste and he was making a grand fool of himself, Y/N could care less as he revelled with his newly acquainted friend, Everclear. 

Before downing shot number five, a man had approached and sat beside Y/N and began ordering. To his surprise, Captain America in the flesh had situated himself beside him at the bar. Knowing Y/N's already embarrassing encounter with him sober, only God knows what was about to ensue between the two of them while he was intoxicated. 

“Enjoying the night, Mr. America?” Y/N slurred. 

“Clearly not as much as you, Y/N.” Steve responded. He was currently sporting a classic black and white tux with a dark blue tie. His attire, while as basic and stereotypical as they come for a formal event, suited him perfectly. Being the idiot Y/N was while drunk, the spike of confidence that surged within him caused him to comment on Steve's appearance.

Y/N leaned towards Steve, getting very close in his personal space, then saying, “apologies, Captain, but you sure do look ravishing if I do say so myself. I’m proud to be an American.” Y/N giggled at himself while Steve looked at him with an amused expression. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re flirting with me, Y/N.” Steve said, flashing his captivating smile. Y/N stared at him with dazed eyes before leaning back and downing his fifth shot of liquid courage.

"Maybe I am flirting with you, Steve. That's what I was doing last time we talked in case you didn't realize."

"Yes, you were quite subtle the last time we spoke." He said sarcastically. He took a sip of whatever he ordered from the bar before continuing. "Speaking of, I've been meaning to talk to you ever since that night, but I could never get a hold of you."

Y/N laughed, not knowing if Steve actually knew why he hasn't seen him since or if he really was oblivious. "Well, Steve, I was avoiding you because I made a fool of myself the last time we talked." A hiccup came out of Y/N's throat. "And then I said to myself, 'Steve probably thinks I'm weird so I'll avoid him to prevent any further embarrassment'." 

"Well, I really did enjoy our conversation last time, Y/N. I mean it."

Similar to their last encounter, a wave of deafening silence consumed the pair's conversation, the awkward tension causing Y/N to become slightly sober. Fortunately for him, the alcohol was still very much prevalent in his bloodstream, giving him enough confidence to break the awkward silence.

"Sometimes I wish I could just run away – leave this life behind and escape to some deserted island.” Y/N glanced towards Steve who was already looking at him. "It's too much at times – this life."

"It would be easier if you had someone with you for the journey."

Y/N looked at him, feigning an incredulous look. "Are you implying with your word choice, manner of speaking and overall cadence that you want to be that person for me?" Y/N laughed, scoffed was more like it. "I'd say you're the person flirting with me, Steve."

Steve chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Y/N. "Maybe I am, Y/N."

Y/N could only stare at him as his heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with his senses and disposition, but his usual wit was gone and he was speechless – a rare moment for Starks. Noticing his hesitation, Steve leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"Y/N, you don't have to go through this life alone. I've seen through your father how hard it can be for someone in your position. But you don't have to bear it all by yourself."

"Do you really mean that, Steve? Or are you just saying all this because I'm drunk and pathetic." Y/N's voice wavered, the confidence he had during their last encounter was noticeably absent.

Steve reached out, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I've noticed you, Y/N. Even though we haven't talked much, I can already tell you're a special person. You're more than just Tony Stark's kid. There's something unique about you. And I want to get to know you more."

The butterflies Y/N felt during their last encounter returned and did pirouettes in his stomach. "I don't know what to say, Steve."

"You don't have to say anything right now. Just know I'll be here and I won't be leaving anytime soon."

Y/N looked at Steve, a whirlwind of emotions torpedoing inside of him. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. The confidence suddenly returned and a smile braced itself on Y/N's face. "Are you technically asking me out?"

Steve only laughed in response before standing up and saying, "I can take you home now if you want."

Y/N quickly stood up. "Oh yes please, Steve. Another minute in here and I think I'll have an aneurysm." As the two started walking, a sudden wave of a burdening reminder of his father's presence washed over Y/N. "Wait, I can't leave – dad said I-." 

Before Y/N could finish, Steve quickly interrupted him. "I think everyone here, including Tony, can see you're in no condition to be here any longer." 

Y/N could only nod, too exhausted to protest. As they exited the building Y/N's head grew heavy, and it gently fell onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve tensed for a moment, then relaxed as his arm slowly wrapped around Y/N’s waist, pulling him closer. “Take me home, Steve,” Y/N mumbled softly against his shoulder, his breath warm against Steve’s neck.

"That's what I'm doing right now, Y/N." Steve said softly.

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After exiting the building, Steve hailed one of the idle limousines across the museum. He had to carefully slide in Y/N's body before sliding in beside him.

The ride back to the Avenger's Compound was quiet and tranquil, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the earlier evening. Steve glanced at his watch - it said 3:33 AM - then turned his gaze towards Y/N's sleeping body leaning against the car window. A small dribble of saliva was escaping the corners of his mouth, and Steve quietly chuckled.

"I can feel you looking at me. Cut it out." 

"Unfortunately, I can't seem to stop my eyes from lingering on things I find beautiful." Y/N could only blush at Steve's unexpectedly sappy words, unaware the super soldier had it in him to be a corny romantic.

"You're no better than any other man, Steve Rogers," Y/N teased, though his voice was softer than before. Steve smiled, but was interrupted by a loud yawn erupting from his mouth. Abruptly, Y/N sat up straight from his slouched position, suddenly remembering something in his drunken haze. "You know, you still have yet to cash in on my offer, Steve."

"You mean your offer to be in bed with you?" Steve asked, his tone in between amusement and curiosity.

Y/N eagerly nodded. "I wouldn't mind if that happened tonight."

Steve's head turned at a concerning speed that definitely would've given a normal person severe whiplash. He gave Y/N a stern yet somber look, one that carried warmth with a reprimanding undertone behind it. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Y/N. I mean, you're drunk and that would be me taking advantage of you – I'd like to think you expect better from me."

Y/N blinked, looking both very offended and embarrassed. "That is absolutely not what I meant, Steve, you naughty man!" He crossed his arms and sunk into the limo's soft leather seats. "I meant that it would be nice if we just laid and went to sleep together...I just don't want to be alone tonight."

Steve's expression softened immediately, understanding the vulnerability behind Y/N's words. Their eyes met, a silent agreement shared between them, filling the rest of the ride with warmth from their comforting connection. 

As the car grew quiet again, Y/N, emboldened by the last remnants of alcohol in his system, threw one more cheeky remark towards Steve. "But you would have sex with me, right?" 

Steve laughed, his head shaking, but the tenderness in his smile spoke volumes. "Get some rest, Y/N. We'll talk in the morning."

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Y/N stirred awake in his bed, his eyes wincing as the harsh rays pierced through a gap between his bedroom curtains. His head pounded, and a wave of nausea met him immediately. Unable to fight it, Y/N ran to his bathroom, purging the contents of last night's festivities in his toilet. It was quite a horrid sight. 

After what seemed like hours, Y/N exited from his bathroom, wanting to get more sleep. Stumbling back to his bed, he noticed the large body-shaped mound from underneath his blankets. Frightened, he approached it cautiously, scared of the idea of having drunkenly slept with a stranger. 

Slowly uncovering the body, Y/N was met with the peaceful sight of a sleeping Captain America. Steve's chest rose and fell steadily, lips parted as he took even breaths. Then, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him like a semi-good dream and Y/N mentally facepalmed himself. However, while he internally scolded himself for his embarrassing behaviour, he also congratulated himself for having been somewhat successful in his endeavours of pursuing Steve. 

Laying back down gingerly beside Steve, Y/N grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The time was 11:11 AM and Y/N silently made a wish to himself. He noticed he had received 10 missed calls and nearly 50+ messages from his dad. Thinking it was regarding his early leave from the gala, Y/N decided to deal with his father later, still exhausted from the night before. Opening Twitter (he refused to call it 'X'), Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he saw his name trending alongside 'Steve Rogers' and 'Captain America.' A knot formed in his stomach and he decided to Google his name. The urge to puke suddenly returned as he was met with a news article reading:

‘Hottest New Couple in NYC?! – Captain America & Y/N Stark Seen  Seen Getting Cozy During Annual Stark Gala’  

Below the headline was a picture snapped of Steve and Y/N at the bar, Steve leaning closely towards Y/N as both shared very flirtatious smiles towards each other. Y/N groaned loudly, causing Steve to stir awake. Today was going to be PR hell.

FIN

A/N: This actually took multiple days to write and while rereading it it's actually really corny? But, fanfic writing is actually kind of fun, I might do it more. Anyways, hope you enjoyed :) Also sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to revise

(a realization about dialogue formatting, from a comic artist turned novelist.)

One of the first things a novice writer learns about speech tags is that they’re part of the “scaffolding” of prose. They should be largely invisible to the reader: use them when necessary, omit them when not, and be sparing in the application of verbs other than “said”. They serve only the function of clarifying who is speaking when it is necessary to do so.

Except:

Sometimes you might want to use a speech tag in spite of the redundancy. The fact that the reader’s eyes slide right over them is an exploitable property. By slicing a line of dialogue in half with a speech tag, you can force the reader to perceive a meaningful pause between two utterances—and the effect is much stronger than you might get out of an ellipsis or an em dash. Developing an intuition for when and how to do this is a huge part of learning to write dialogue, I think.

(And yes: if you ever wondered, this is exactly same the reason why comic artists sometimes “double bubble” their speech bubbles. Same end, different means!)

Say Something

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, with the guy you worked so hard to have a friendship with only to find out he’s been dating someone.

Word count: 1,289

Warnings: Angst, language word, unrequited love, two idiots.

Your whole world revolved around one man and one man only, Bucky Barnes. There was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him. If he needed you then you would always drop whatever you were doing and go straight to him, no matter how big or small his problem was.

Natasha called you a ‘people pleaser’, since you found it rather difficult to say no to people and situations. You said yes to people often because you were afraid of letting them down, sometimes even putting yourself in their shoes and imagining the disappointment if the roles were reversed and it was you who needed something.

The one person you always aimed to please was Bucky. Falling in love with the sergeant was obviously never planned, these things rarely are and as cliché as it sounds; it just happened.

At first glance when Bucky first arrived at the compound under Steve’s guidance, Bucky was closed off to everyone besides Steve. The meeting between the two of you didn’t quite go to plan either as phe was dismissive of your attempts at a friendship from the get-go. There were times when he would grunt whenever you would walk into the same room, excluding you from conversations. The screams of horror that ripped through the walls of the compound was what nightmares were made from. The heavy bags under his eyes the morning after made you feel sympathetic towards him and you just wanted to help him in any way that you could. Any way that he would allow you. You never gave up on him, and Bucky must have realised that because one day, his walls crumbled and he confided in you. He told you his deepest, darkest secrets that he didn’t even tell Steve about. You were sworn to secrecy, and the two of you grew closer and closer from that day on.

The closer you grew to Bucky, the more you realised this was more than just friendship to you. This was love.

You never told him about these feelings. You feared the second he heard them, he would shut you out of his life in an instance and you’d back to square one. So you kept them to yourself, allowed yourself to lay awake at night and daydream about the kind of future you would want with him, the kind of future that would never happen. It was like a nightmare on loop, the feelings you felt for him were about to combust and you just had to confide in somebody.

That somebody was Natasha. She was the best one to ask since she had a lot of experience in the dating field.

“I just- I just don’t know, Nat. We’re best friends now and wouldn’t it be weird?” You bit your lip as your fingers played with the tassels on her cream knitted blanket she had splayed over her bed.

Nat was finishing up her makeup before she spun on her heels and turned to you with an eye roll.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the best person to confide in after all.

“Why would it be weird? You’re already dating with the amount of time the two of you are spending together.. and why would it be weird? You know all there is about each other. It's a solid foundation.” She takes a breath and straightens out her dress. “I’m really sorry, Y/N but I have a date and I don’t want to be late. Just talk to him, he will listen I’m sure.” She apologises again as she picks up her matching purse and sweater off the chair and makes a hasty dash out the door, leaving you to contemplate your decision alone.

***

The walk down the hall to Bucky’s room felt like it would be the last time you’d walk these trails for some reason. The guilt, the anxiety just sat in the pit of your stomach, churning and making you feel extremely nauseous that you weren’t even sure you could do this.

But you took Nat’s advice, Bucky just had to know how you felt about him. It was his reaction you were more worried about.

You knocked on his door and wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your sweater. Bucky’s feet padding across the carpet resonated through the door, causing your heart rate to soar dangerously high. Bucky swung the door open; clad in black jeans, black socks, damp hair and his dog tags dangling over his chiseled chest. His cologne knocked any greeting out of your head, he smelled so good and it took all of your willpower not to lean in and take a deep sniff.

“Hey doll! Just the person I wanted to see, come on in!” He stands to the side and you walk in, shirts after shirts are scattered all over his bed.

“Bucky, I have to talk to you about something.” You start, but realise he isn’t actually paying attention to you but his shirts on the bed.

He smiles, picking up a shirt and holding it up against himself. “What do you think?” He asks, invisible question marks written all over his face.

“Uh it looks good? What’s the occasion?”

Pink dusts his cheeks as he throws down the shirt and picks up another, and another.

“I have a date with Jenny.” His smile reaches his eyes while your heart breaks. “It’s our third date so things are going well.”

Wait, what?

“Your- your third date?” You chuckle nervously, desperately hiding the crack in your voice. “How did I miss this?”

Bucky shrugs slightly and decides to go with the maroon shirt.

“We’ve just kept it a secret until now. You’re the first person I’ve told actually and could really use your help with flirting since I’m not good in that department.”

Oh wow. An invisible force just punched you in the gut and the air is tight.

“I’m- I’m not exactly the best person to ask.” You bite your lip, blinking quickly so no tears dare shed. “Maybe ask Nat.” You say quickly, heading towards the door. This is a lot to process and you’re not sure what to do with yourself.

You bid Bucky good luck and good night. He really didn’t seem to take notice of your state of distress and if he did, he didn’t say anything. You head back to your room and lock the door, collapsing on your bed and allowing your pillow to capture your fallen tears.

***

Bucky sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. The maroon shirt hung loosely in his hand as he rested his elbows on his thighs. What the fuck was he doing? He was in love with you, he has been since he met you. It was his mind they made him believe you were too good for him, he didn’t deserve you since he was sure he would break your heart over and over again.

But your body language crumbled right under his eyes. He saw how you were trying so hard not to cry and all he wanted to do was hold you and told you not to cry. He had no idea what you thought about him, what you really thought about him and thought the only way he could get over you was to date somebody else completely opposite. He wasn’t lying when he said things were going well. He was worried things were going too well and now he’s scared shitless he’s lost the most important person in his life.

There was nobody else like you.

And Bucky wanted you.

Tell Me A Story

Bucky Barnes x reader (male)

Summary: Drabble based on this prompt: One person has been on the waiting list to check out a library book for months. The other person has the long-overdue book. The two coincidentally meet one day at the library.

Warnings- Some swearing

Word count- almost 2k

Author's Note- I liked this prompt then hated it then liked it again lmao

Masterlist

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“I’m sorry, sir…” The librarian sighs with an apologetic smile as you walk into the library. They had been dealing with your incessance for the past month- or longer, “We still haven't gotten the book back yet.”

The fact that they recognized you upon entry might have been more off putting, but it made your day go by much smoother. Not needing to go through the whole process of checking if the book you wanted was here yet… you'd take that even if it meant being known as that guy.

You had taken maybe all of ten steps into the library, it smelled heavily of parchment, ink, and that vague people smell. And goddamn it was one of your favorite things ever. Though, it was unfortunately paired with one of your  least favorite phrases ever-  it’s not in yet.

“Oh are you shittin’ me?” You grumble under your breath, tugging off your gloves as you walk towards the main desk. Your face was chilled from the brisk late autumn/early winter air. There were flurries starting outside and all you fucking wanted was the stupid Hobbit book.

It was a tradition you didn't even realize you had started with yourself. Right after Halloween, you devoted the following week to rereading the Hobbit. It started after your second year in college, you read the book by recommendation from a professor and just kept rereading it at the same time every year since. By that point, you had seen the movie plus all of the Lord of The Rings movies, but the books had evaded you. 

“Any updates, at least?” You sigh out, leaning your forearms against the high counters of the librarians desk, gloves loosely clutched in your hand. Sure, you could probably buy the book in just about any store… but that would most definitely ruin the experience for you. It was silly to think, but there was something about borrowing it from a library, a book used and loved by countless others before you, and curling up on your couch to read it in just a week that was absolutely heavenly for you.

The librarian shook their head ‘no’, causing you to dejectedly sigh and steal a quick glance around the main room, “The person who has it checked out is very overdue, unfortunately,” they laughed as they pulled up the book information on the computer in front of them.

“Yeah,” you dryly chuckle, trying not to misplace your unhappiness onto the worker who was just doing their damn job, they were probably just as annoyed by the delay as you were, “It was already a week overdue by the time I went to reserve it.”

You pulled your lips into a thin lined smile, slapping the desk lightly as you took a step back to leave.

Maybe you should just go to the bookstore, bite the bullet and just buy the damn thing. Then your new tradition could be digging it out of storage every year along with all your holiday decorations and -- “Oof-!”

“Oh, ‘m bad, sorry,” a deep voice mumbled from behind you. 

You had been so lost in your own thoughts you hadn't been paying attention to anything around you, and you just backed completely into some random guy. Nice going, idiot.

“Sorry, man,” you quickly say back, swiveling around instinctively holding out a hand towards him to make sure he hadn't fallen or something.

But… god, there was no way he would've fallen. No matter how quickly you backed into him. The man was at least 6’ tall, broad shoulders and seemingly built like a brickhouse. It might've just been the hoodie/jacket combo that added to his mass, but something in you said that the clothes were just accentuating how much he actually had.

You didn't even realize you had been staring at the man, he was walking just a few steps towards your left to the book return spot, and you wouldn't have snapped out of your trance unless you caught a glimpse of the book he had.

The Hobbit.

… this mother fu-

“Hey!” The librarian said with a cheery grin, holding out their hand for the book instead of letting him drop it into the return area, “Looks like we do have it after all!”

The man doesn't really have a reaction as he hands them the book, seeming more confused than anything else. He glanced at you and gave you a slight smile - a smirk? Maybe?

“Y-you…” You started to mumble out, eyes locked on your prize as the librarian scans it.

“Been waiting for it long?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he also watches his book getting checked in. There was a slightly embarrassed blush across his cheeks, or it could be from the cold perhaps. He swiftly pulled out his wallet to pay the overdue fee, which was probably a decent amount by this point.

“Just over a month,” you huff out, stepping to the side to let him pay as the librarian reads out the amount he owes.

You knew you shouldn't really say anything, you’d finally get the book you'd been looking for and could fulfil this little tradition you had, "Could've returned it sooner,” You mindlessly comment.

Immediate regret sinks in, you press your lips firmly together and stare sheepishly at the countertop. It was the holiday season and you were being pissy about an overdue book.

But the man didn't seem too put off by your comment, he just chuckled and gave a half hearted shrug as he tucked his card back into his wallet. It was a black card, you noticed.

So this fucker had basically infinite money and was still unable to return a damn book on time?

“I should’ve, you're right,” He admitted simply, glancing at you as he leaned against the counter. He was getting comfortable, almost like he was analyzing your moves the same way he’d analyze a book. It forced you to step closer to him to get the book checked out.

“But, in my defense,” He adds, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips. It was hard to see his face since he had a hat tugged over his head, but you could tell he had a light beard and longer brown hair, “I never have to deal with anyone else impatiently waiting for it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the realization that you finally had your book was lifting your spirits more and more. You couldn't help the softer smile that overcame you as you worked to get out your library card, the familiar worn out cover of the book filled you with a simple kind of warmth.

“Its… its just this stupid tradition I have,” you explain, holding your card under the reader while the librarian stamps the inner book cover, “I read it the same time every year.”

He nodded, almost reverently as if the book was just as important to him. Which, it might be, you don't know. You notice his lingering gaze on the book, “Good tradition.” He simply comments.

You also nodded, feeling a little less embarrassed by your attachment to the book. You were both quiet as you took the book from the librarian, you held it tightly. The worn cover felt familiar against your fingers and palm, still slightly warm since it had been hot potatoed between people. 

“You… you like the book, at least?" You finally mustered up the courage to actually speak directly to him. You hold up the book, taking a few steps away from the counter if someone else needs the checkout desk. The sudden feeling of sheepishness that had settled in your body was something you hadn't expected. Your heart beat a little faster, a little harder, and you were grateful for the book to hold onto so that your hands didn't fidget.

The man followed you, a bigger grin across his lips as he nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah! It’s a great book. I- I’ve read it a bunch of times,” He admits, locking eyes with you.

He shifted on his feet a few times, maybe jitters that matched your own, or the chill from the outside as he tried to get his blood pumping again.

“I’m… I’m sorry for, uh, keepin’ it checked out for so long,” He mutters again, turning his head to look away from you.

You softly smiled, lightly tapping the book against his arm, not noticing the distinct sound of metal, “I know I sounded a little pissed, but it’s not really a big deal. I’m, uhm, sorry I overreacted.” You were still feeling bad. This man had been nothing but kind and you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“You had the right to be pissed,” He snorted. There was a beat of silence between the two of you. You crossed your arms lightly over your chest, and he mirrored it a moment later.

“Uhm, what's- uh, what's that tradition you were talking about?” the man stuttered out. You would call it flustered, but you wern't about to get ahead of yourself.

“Uh, right,” You say, your voice was a little more airy than usual, “It’s, it’s nothing crazy,” You look down at the book in your hand, then back to him, “In college a teacher had me read it, and I just liked it so much I kept reading it in mid November, gets me in the holiday mood for some reason.”

The word November made the man suck in air through his teeth, he shoots you a sheepish smile, “I hope early December is good enough?” He teases.

“December is definitely fine, don't worry…” You trail off, looking at him expectantly for his name. This mystery man who had been harboring your book wasn't goin to stay a mystery to you for much longer.

“James- ah- Bucky. Everyone calls me Bucky,” He quickly offers, his smile growing a bit more. The way his eyes widened with excitement reminded you of a dog. He prompts you for your name nd when you tell him he repeats it back softly. Like he was testing how it sounded.

“...I like that name,” Bucky whispers.

Normally, the unrestrained smile on you face, the heat in your cheeks, and the butterflies in your stomach would make you recoil. But feeling them for Bucky felt more right than wrong. Hell, it didn't feel wrong at all.

And maybe that's why you felt bold. Maybe it was the relief of getting your book that prompted your next move… maybe it was the holiday spirit.

“It’d look a lot better in your phone,” You confidently say, for once your shaky voice didn't betray you. You hold out your hand, nodding slightly for him to give you his phone.

Bucky quickly pulled out his phone, not once taking his eyes off of you, like you'd disappear if he did. You had to bite back the laugh at how may times he nearly dropped his phone as he fishes it out for you.

Once you get it, you punch in your number and name. You hand it back to him, catching a glimpse at the time, which tells you you need to get going. You clumsily gave your excuse, waving to him briefly as you turned to make your way out of the library. With your back to him, you didn't need to hide the goofy smile that had been making your face ache the entire time. 

It wasn't until you were about a block away, huddled in your coat with your hands buried in your pockets to hide from the chill, you then felt your phone vibrate. Checking the message from the nameless number made your heart soar.

Youre right, it does look good. But the phrase “Want to grab coffee sometime?” might be better. -Bucky

Devoured

Hi! I love your fics!

Can you do a Snobby!Rich!M!Reader x Jason Todd where Jason sees the reader at one of Bruce’s gala, boasting about how rich he (his dad) is. Jason thinks nothing of it at first until the reader starts coming up to Jason and bragging about how much richer he is etc. Eventually, Jason gets so fed up he takes the reader to his room where he fucks the shit out of the reader until the reader is begging and whining. Kinda like brat taming.

Jason Todd x Snobby Rich Male Reader

ficlet

Might have made the reader kind of an airhead, on accident. Hes also got some muscle, but in the “I only have muscles to look good” typa way.

Trying to stretch the writers muscle, since writers block has had me in a violent chokehold for weeks now. Not proof read for this reason, and because i have a major headache.

Jason rarely attended the various galas Bruce, or rather the Wayne name or Wayne enterprises, threw. He had only been dragged along because of a bet he had lost during their last patrol, meaning he had no choice but to go, since none of the others wanted to go to this specific gala. New investors were invited, which meant new money, which meant snobbier than usual rich folk.

It wasn’t hard to see you were new money when you arrived, from the way you carried yourself to the way you dressed. You didn’t stand out much amongst the rest of the new money folk, in expensive brands that cared more about the name than the actual design. But compared to the usual old money that normally attended Wayne galas, you stood out like a sore thumb. The way you were bragging didn’t help either, though, everyone seemed to be bragging, like some kind of measuring contest.

It only became a problem when you started bragging to him. You didn’t even seem to care that he was a Wayne, and definitely much richer than you. He found himself indulging your rambling and peacocking in the beginning, it wasn’t Jasons fault his type were cocky little brats who thought they were untouchable.

The way you fluttered around, chest puffed out, hand on your cocked hip as your lip pouted in a way that made Jason want to bite it. As you grew more tipsy your bragging went from cute to obnoxious, making a heady annoyance start brimming under his skin.

Jason felt what little patience he had left snap when you were so obnoxious as to pull up your Gucci shirt, your lips in such a cocky grin as you showed him the red diamond piercings in your nipples. Seeing the red against your flushed skin made his jaws clench, and before your next brag and boast could sputter out of you, Jasons large hand closed around your bicep and pulled you his way.

You stumbled as Jason lugged you up the many stairs inside the manor, up to the upper floors that were never open during galas, down the hallways and in through a door. There wasn’t much time for you to look around, or comment about the poor looking design, before Jason was upon you like a starved wolf upon a rabbit.

His lips were dry, and this close you could feel the scars carved against them. The noise that left you was borderline pathetic as his tongue slid between your lips, the thick muscle dragging against the roof of your mouth, before Jason truly started devouring you. Grasping uselessly at his suit jacket, you felt so unsure on your feet and dizzy, like you were about to collapse against him.

A sharp gasp tumbled out of you as Jason picked you up, his strong arms flexing like you weighed nothing. It clicked somewhere in the back of your mind that those muscles of his weren’t just for show. Not like you who only worked out and ate well to have the appearance the masses only dreamed of. As you were lost in your thoughts Jason threw you down on the bed, his strong hands grasping at your shirt and jacket, ripping the fabric down the middle, resulting in you whining and crowing in the way only a spoiled rich person could.

The breath that he huffed out was sharp and short, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours, so much intensity in them that you felt your spine straighten. “Ill buy you something better” he grunted as he ripped your pants and boxers, shredding the fugly fabric and throwing the strips off to the side like useless trash.

It was habit at this point that had you whining and complaining, even going as far as to roll onto your front and kicking your legs in a pitiful way, complaining the entire time about him not respecting you or your things, and how he was just some dumb musclehead that didn’t know anything.

Jason didn’t even have the energy to act like he was listening, watching as the muscles of your back flex and pull. There was no true definition for your build, no muscles built from hard work or a rough life, like you were some kinda kendoll with the perfect muscle to fat ratio and specialized trainers. But it did give you an amazing ass, round and perky, the sight of it making Jason drool with the need to taste.

Your next protest was completely cut off as Jasons rough scarred hands grabbed your cheeks, spreading them just far enough for him to bury his mouth between them. A high-pitched squeak that melted into a watery whine rang from you, as Jasons broad wet tongue buried itself in your hole. Burying your face into one of his pillows, you tried to silence the embarrassing noises, eyes prickling with unshed tears as Jason’s hand snuck under your hips to fondle your weeping hardness.

Jason pulled back with a wet slurp, his lips and chin covered in drool as he glanced up over the expanse of your back, seeing the way your head was ducked down and hiding. “I thought you were whining, come on, tell me how much you hate it” he purred, voice deep and hot, making your insides clench as it felt like honey running down your spine.

You lift your face enough to stutter out a few half thought out protests and fussy words, none of them actually making much sense. Behind you Jason smirked, knowing what little brain you had was struggling hard to piece together your usual bravado, which also allowed him to coat his fingers in lube and warm it up enough to not be too uncomfortable.

Once again, your words were cut off as Jasons slicked fingers slid inside you, Jason crawling up enough to rest against your back. He was much bulkier than you were, his scarred torso pressed against your own blemish free back, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress.

There were a few attempts to insult him, but the way Jason seemed to have expertly found your prostate, and how he kept rubbing against it, you found it very hard to form your lips to muster up any meaningful words. It all felt like too much, everything was too hot, too slick, too stimulating but also not enough, and Jason only seemed to enjoy your reactions more and more.

Through it all Jason made sure to press kisses against your shoulders and neck, the dirtiest but most delicious words mumbled into your ear, as his fingers twisted and turned in ways that had you tearing up. You didn’t even notice how he added more fingers, until Jason finally withdrew them completely and he sat back on his haunches.

It took more brainpower than you had at the moment to peek over your shoulder, your eyes shooting wide at his overly scarred torso, but also the weapon he was rolling a condom down onto. As if sensing your thoughts Jason crawled back on top of you, rubbing himself against you as he reassured you that it would fit, you just had to be good.

The comment about your behavior made you sour, scrunching up your brows and sticking out your lip in a pout. Instead of scolding you, Jason just hooked an arm around your upper torso, turning you enough to kiss you, just to distract you enough to keep you loose and pliant for him to slide inside. The stretch had you whining, but it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as you thought it would, and soon Jason was seated fully inside.

It had never been Jason’s plan to go easy on you, but he gave you enough time to adjust before he started moving, drawing back before pushing back in with a strong thrust of his hips. Like his fingers Jason seemed way too skilled at finding your prostate, which made your arms give out and sending you crashing back into the mattress as his hips shoved against your own.

His tone was almost taunting as Jason lifted you up by the grip he had around your torso, his voice thick and mocking in a hot and fluid way, reminding you to breathe. It was only then that you realized you had been holding your breath, the air fucked right out of your lungs every time he shoved into you, and his fast and deep pace gave you no time to gasp air back into your lungs.

Tears blurred your vision as you panted and almost drooled, hands clawing and grasping at the sheets. You were sure you must of cum at least once, if not twice, but Jason gave you no time to bask in it or fully register it before the next jab against your prostate had you reeling.

The noises that left you might have been begs and pleas, for him to go harder, faster, for more, but you couldn’t have been sure. At some point Jason even started praising you, making sure to speak right into your ear, telling you just how good you were taking it, and wasn’t it just so much nicer to not be such a brat? A warbly whine left you in response, a full body shudder crashing through you, as you tumbled over the edge for what must have been the third time.

Jason seemed to finally have met his own end, a deep guttural groan ringing from his chest as you bottomed out, his eyes clenched and brows furrowed as he spilled into the rubber around his length. Part of him regretted not just taking you raw, but there was always next time.

You must have fallen asleep or passed out, as you were clean and in a pair of boxers when you next came too. You were even laying against Jason’s chest, one of his strong arms wrapped around your back to keep you pressed against him, ear against his pec, his heartbeat strong and even. A soft kiss was pressed against the top of your head, Jason muttering for you to go back to sleep.

And who were you to protest. Normally you would have started a fuss just because he thought he could order you around, but the way a deep satisfying exhaustion hung over you was enough to keep you quiet and compliant, for now. As you slumped back against him Jason just chuckled slightly, flipping to the next page in the book he was reading, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. Maybe you weren’t so bad as he had thought, Jason didn’t even mind your snooty attitude, since he gave him an excuse to tame the brat right out of you.

You Don't Know Pt 8

Steve Rogers x Reader (GN)

Series Summary: Steve Rogers and his pretentious “know it all” attitude is getting on your last nerves. Neither of you know what to do about it. 

Warnings- Idiots, light swearing, nothing serious rly

Word count- 3k

Author's Note- I am so sorry for the long ass wait! School happened, and a new job, and spring break (which wsnt honestly a break) and I’m still working on seeing writing as not a chore?? Any ways, the next thing posted will be UtLM <3

Chapter 8/?

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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BeeBeeBEEEEP! BeeBeeBEEEEP!

Steve had, arguably, the most annoying alarm in the entire goddamn world. He groaned softly, still half asleep, and slowly opened his eyes as the frequency of the beeps got quicker. His hand flopped over and clumsily quickly shut off the alarm, not wanting it to get loud.

He groaned and wiped the sleep from his eyes as his vision came back into focus, reality slowly hit him, and the memories of last night slowly trickled back into his mind.

You, having a nightmare. Coming into his room. Crawling into his bed. Crying. Being held by him. Him not hating the fact he held you. In fact, it was actually kinda nice--

His eyes shot open, the memories acting as the chilling feeling of a bucket of water being splashed over him. His heart beat quickly as he glanced at the other side of his bed. You had shifted out of his arms, curled into a small ball, and had the blankets pulled up to your face. You looked like you were trying to take up as little space as possible.

He slowly sat up in bed, not wanting to wake you up since it was barely 5 in the morning. He leaned over to study your face for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm the rapid beating of his heart. You looked so relaxed, brows twitching slightly in a scowl as your lips parted with a soft huff. 

The sudden feeling of this all being wrong flooded into his mind.

He was the Captain, after all! Team leader! What would be said if people found out you slept in his room?? There might be rumors, hell, the way people talked in this place was CRAZY! Steve couldn't--

Couldn't believe himself.

He turned away from you, guilt flooding his heart. He swallowed thickly, staring at a rogue sock on the floor.

That's what he had done, wasn't it? Assumed you were sleeping around with Bucky. When did he start assuming his teammates did that! Why- why would he care! God, he was a jerk… You had just wanted help. You had found comfort in Bucky and he ruined all of that because he was jealous. 

No, he wouldn’t let himself stew in his own guilt, that wasn't fair in the slightest. He forced himself to look back at you. It was obvious you were still asleep, with your face relaxed and soft puffs of air falling from your lips. Your hair is a mess all over the pillow and the blanket tightly gripped around your body. Steve could see the outline of your fist clutching the sheets to your chest, so relaxed yet still so tense. He was beginning to believe you never actually fully relaxed.

He swallowed thickly, feeling awkward about the current situation. There was no way he could move you out of his bed. For one, he didn't want to risk waking you up, the dark spots under your eyes were proof enough sleep like this didn't come often enough. Secondly, though you were sleeping like a rock, movement like that would most definitely startle you awake… and a punch/kick/flail wasn't what he wanted to deal with at the moment. None of the Avengers were heavy sleepers. It was something that got trained out of recruits fairly quickly, and it unfortunately wasn't on purpose.

He could only imagine what you were going to say about the fact that you’d spent the night in his bed. Steve blinked and looked around his room, the curtains showing just a smidge of light as the sun promised to rise. Steve had never felt this way before, the odd feeling of time moving too fast yet painfully slow. His breathing felt too loud and also dead silent all at once. Worried he’d wake you, yet also wondering if he should be the one to wake you.

“Jesus,” Steve thought to himself, feeling a headache coming on, “when was the last time I thought this hard this early in the morning??”

He rubbed his temples as he quietly pushed his part of the blankets off his body. Steve knew he should leave you, let you wake-up without having him hovering there. He should talk to Bucky, he's dealt with this all before...

“Ok, Steve, you've got some choices here. I could either stay with them, still asleep and wait for them to wake up on their own…” Steve considered, soundlessly blowing air from his mouth, “Or, I could get up, talk to Bucky, and hope that that dumbasses advice could help me not say something stupid the second they woke up.”

Decision made, he silently got out of the bed. It creaked slightly- since when did it creak??- and he winced. Holding his breath he glanced back at you, you hadn't even stirred. As silently as he could, he tiptoed out of his room. Pausing momentarily to toss his sock into the laundry hamper where it should've been.

For the first few steps, he kept his pace light until he decided he had put enough distance between himself and the room to walk normally. He quickly trotted down the hallway, going straight for Bucky’s room. He was a little surprised that Bucky’s door was ajar, and when he pushed it open, he was very surprised to find his friend already sitting up in bed, his phone in his hand.

“You’re… up?” Steve asked, voice slightly gravely with sleep.

“... yes?” Bucky mumbled back. He yawned and ran his hand over his face, "Haven't made it to the gym yet, though.”

Bucky eyed Steve for a split second, and a look of slight realization appeared on his face. Steve wasn't really hiding how frazzled he felt. That, and his entire world felt slightly off kilter. 

“They had a nightmare, huh?” Bucky asked in a soft voice, knowing immediately what had happened. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his brown locks out of his face with a loud sigh.

“Uhm, yeah,” Steve mumbled, standing in the doorway and scratching his forehead. He didn't know what else to say, he felt a little grateful that Bucky had recognized it all, at least.

It was clear from his body language that he was nervous. Steve Rogers didn’t get nervous very often - except for in situations just like this one. When he was a flopping fish out of water.

Bucky had seen that look on his face plenty of times, whether it was when he was talking to an attractive person, having to give his pre-serumed self a pep-talk, or when he was about to do something stupid. Though, since the serum, Bucky had seen it rarely

And the current situation was exactly all that - Steve was in unfamiliar territory.

Steve Rogers’ love life, or lack thereof, was complicated. He had always been single, as Bucky knew very well.

The whole serum, the war, being frozen, getting thawed out and waking up in the 21st Century… Steve hadn’t had a whole lot of time or chances to pursue someone.

And, of course, Bucky also knew that the one woman Steve had been in love with had been Peggy Carter. And, well, yeah, that didn't really go far.

“Let me guess,” Bucky said, leaning back and resting against his pillows. “They came into your room, you let ‘em get into your bed, comforted them until they fell asleep, and now you’re in here at,” he squinted at his phone, “nearly 6 in the morning lookin’ like an animal trapped in a cage ‘cause you had ‘em cuddling against your chest all night.”

Steve winced, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway and folding his arms across his chest.

“Something like that,” he grumbled, running his tongue over his teeth and looking at a spot on the floor.

He was silently praying that Bucky wasn’t going to tease him for this, and instead actually give him some good advice. He swallowed thickly, throat bobbing as his teeth worried his lip. He tapped his foot once, then twice, then quickly.

“What should I do when they wake up?” He finally asked, glancing at Bucky. “What am I going to say?”

Bucky studied Steve’s face for a moment, taking in his friend’s worried expression and nervous body language, before he sighed deeply.

“First, you’re gonna calm down. And sit down, you’re makin’ me feel nervous,” Bucky finally said. “You’re gonna sit down, you’re gonna breathe, and then you’re gonna remember that they had a nightmare and are probably goin’ to be embarrassed about crawling into your bed, so you’re gonna stay calm and be nice.”

Bucky was more protective of you at this moment, purely because of how similar their nightmares were. He saw you as a kid sibling, and, sure, Bucky would tease you a bit, but he wouldn't let anyone else hurt you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to let Steve do something stupid that resulted in you getting caught up in the crossfire.

Steve relaxed a bit and released the breath that he was holding. He knew that Bucky was right, and it was probably a good idea to stay calm.

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he let his arms fall to his sides, his hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Right,” he agreed in a strained voice, forcing himself to relax.

“I’m calmer. Sitting down.” He said, lowering himself into one of Bucky’s chairs, sitting a few feet away from the bed.

“How should I bring it up when they wake up, though?” Steve asked, looking over at Bucky. “Should I not bring it up at all? Should I bring up the nightmare, or should I just wait for whatever they'll say?”

He was nervous again now that he was sitting down and had nothing to distract him from his tangled thoughts. And he was worried about what you would think - what you would say - when you woke up in his room, without him there.

Bucky sighed again. The man in front of him was the same Steve Rogers that was trying to enlist in the Army time and time again, even though he wasn’t physically able.

But when it came to people, specifically people Steve wanted to impress, Steve was absolutely clueless.

“They normally never talk about it. But if they do, just wait for them to bring it up,” Bucky said, as if it was as obvious as the sky being blue. “Wait and see what they say first, and then go from there. If they start it, they're probably expecting to talk about it. And if they dont… then they're too embarrassed to mention it.”

Steve nodded, processing the advice.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I can see them being embarrassed about it. They normally act so tough."

He paused for a moment, thinking about the way you normally were around him. The way you always had a sarcastic remark and a smart comment on your lips, the way you bickered with him. He could definitely see you being embarrassed about crying in front of him.

He suddenly sat up a little suddenly, a thought crossing his mind.

“Do people normally do that?” He asked curiously, looking over at Bucky. “Have a nightmare and go to-” He paused, unsure of how to define your relationship. Not friends, colleagues really. Enemies? No, as much as you riled him up, you weren't an enemy, “... their mission leader/coworker/roommates room for - for comfort, or whatever?”

Steve mumbled his last few words, each syllable sounding stupider and stupider as his brain tried to make sense of it all.

Bucky chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky said in a tone that made it sound like Steve was a complete idiot. “People have been doin’ that for a long time. I think it’s an older-than-the-stone-age idea, actually.”

Steve pursed his lips slightly in annoyance at Bucky’s mocking comment, but he didn’t say anything, his face turning a brighter shade of pink.

He was a little offended, but still had half a mind to admit that he may actually be an idiot when it came to, well, anything more than simple cordial relationships.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled under his breath, folding his arms defensively over his chest again. “The nightmares I've dealt with have been with you, and you weren't exactly the ‘crawl-into-bed-and-cry’ type-”

Steve's huffy reply was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang that echoed from down the hallway, followed by a string of muttered curses from none other than you.

Steve winced as he heard the banging, it sounded like an end table being knocked over. Probably the one against the wall of the hallway that had a few knick knacks on it. He shared a glance with Bucky before they both spoke at the same time.

“They’re awake.” They said in unison, both of them grinning slightly and chuckling at the synchronization.

You had already changed out of the shirt and pants Steve lent you and had found your tank top and shorts you had previously been wearing. Your confusion, then embarrassment, then absolute dread that had plagued you the moment you woke up not  in your own bed fueled your swift escape. 

In your attempt to tiptoe back to your room, you had cut the corner a smidge too close. The vase of lego flowers didn't fall to the floor! But the cheap plastic picture frame (that no one had even taken the stock image out of??) tumbled off onto the floor.

Steve had to muffle his sudden laugh when he heard you cursing loudly. He masked it with a light cough, your words didn't even make much sense. It reminded him of a middleschooler who learned the word “fuck” for the first time.

He cleared his throat, standing up straight as he caught Bucky’s eye. The two of them exchanged knowing looks, both holding back another bout of laughter.

After the sound of readjustment came to finish, and a couple more muttered curses traveled in the air, it went silent again.

Bucky looked over at Steve, his shoulders starting to shake with restrained laughter.

“Real graceful in the morning,” he snorted, glancing at Steve. Bucky took a deep breath, shaking his head in amusement and running his hand through his hair.

Steve tried to wave it off, keeping his face neutral and uncaring. But, the thought of you being like a baby deer that just learned how to work its legs made him grin.

He couldn’t help it. It was funny to him, you were being so loud! You were only ever purposefully loud.

“Yeah, definitely graceful,” he laughed quietly, his lips tilting up into a boyish smile.

“You alright?” Bucky called out, craning his head as he tried to look down the hallway. He swung his legs off his bed with a soft grunt, stretching as he stood.

"... fuck off, Barnes!" Your voice carried from down the hallway. Followed by the sound of your door slamming shut. Yeah, you were fine.

Steve rolled his eyes, not surprised in the slightest. Of course you shouted back at Buck. Why would he expect anything different from you?

He could practically picture the look on your face as soon as the words left your mouth. Your scowl, your narrowed eyes. If you had said it to Bucky's face, Steve could picture you crossing your arms tightly, the muscle in your jaw flexing as you tried not to make another snippy remark, and your foot impatiently tapping the ground…

“You know,” Steve murmured to Bucky, still holding the image in his mind, “You really shouldn’t rile them up in the early morning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Whtever, theyre fine.” Bucky groaned as he stretching his arms up,  rolling his shoulders nd stretching his neck as he walked around his bed to Steve. “They just cussed me out and even that still got you smiling like a dumbass,” he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Steve. “Jesus, you’ve got it bad, Steve. Even I can see that.”

“Shut up,” Steve quickly mumbled, his smirk falling into an annoyed frown.

Of course Bucky knew. The guy had been his best friend for decades, he knew almost everything about him. Including his taste in partners.

“I don’t like them,” he protested, but his words sounded weak even to his own ears.

Bucky simply shot Steve a pointed look at his weak protest.

“Because you totally weren’t just sitting there with a dumb smile on your face while listening to them swear at me from down the hallway…” Bucky mutters under his breath, "But, yeah, you don't like them."

“I don’t.” Steve repeated, a bit more firmly this time, but even to his own ears he still didn’t sound too convincing.

Steve was stubborn. He was stubborn to a fault. But he’d be damned if he didn't get this sorted out!

︵︵︵⋅˚₊‧ ୨♥︎୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅︵︵︵

But, well, that stubbornness plagued both Steve and you for the next few months.

And, to be clear, the next four months.

You and Steve really didn't... bicker much anymore. Sure, you avoided him slightly for the first week or so, but after that, things mellowed out.

It seemed silly to completely avoid your captain, so a quick thirty second applolofy from steve followed by  just as awkward “yeah dont worry bout it” from you wrapped the fiasco up pretty swiftly

You also got Bruce to make you some pills that would just knock you out every night. Can't have nightmares if you're unconscious! Bruce exasperatedly corrected you, they correct your brain's REM cycle so the consolidating and analyzing of memories does not happen in the active consciousness… or, well, whatever the hell that meant. They honestly just felt like you took a melatonin and some benadryl every night.

Though you both acted cordial, neither you nor Steve acted on your other feelings. You reserved yourself into thinking Steve barely tolerated you. Steve thought similarly. His feelings were reinforced when you spent those few weeks in Bruce's lab doing sleep tests with a bunch of doctors.

So, you both pushed those feelings away.

You were determined to keep those feelings away, much to Natasha's dismay. Steve was the same, but more blatant denial… much to Bucky's frustration. 

It wasn't until one afternoon, while everyone was gathered for a meeting, you walked into the room followed by someone else. They were around the same height as you, another agent you had worked with before, and a certain captain couldn't stop staring…

Nightwing x Male! Thief! Reader

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; nightwing and ur dynamic, as a small, not super skilled, thief that nightwing likes

warnings ; male! reader, cussing, mention of oral sex (no actual sex at all), banter,

note ; wish i wrote smth abt nightwing's GYATTT

words ; 1.3k+

Your teeth chattered in your jaw as you continued to shovel stacks of cash from the busted vault into your gym bag. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you could feel your fingers going numb from the adrenaline rushing through your hands — Faster, damn it, faster!

The emergency lights flashed a red hue on everything you saw, and you couldn't hear anything but a pulsing in your head, and quiet and light steps behind you. Knowing who it was, you only sighed and remained tense, refusing to look your assailant in the eye.

"Really, s/o?" You winced at his disappointed tone of voice, already pissed at his audacity to talk as if — "As if you have the right to judge me, Boy Wonder." You spat out, frowning as you swivelled around to see Dick Grayson, a mere inch away from you. Your gym bag rotated around you on impact and caught itself on your shoulder. The impact and the shock alone were enough to make you take a step back — but not before Dick had slipped one of his batons behind the groove of your back, pulling you towards his chest by pulling on both ends of the baton.

"It's Nightwing now, actually." He corrected, seemingly unfazed by your resentful attitude. Your dynamic usually went this way; a small fight amongst rivals and old friends, with a mutual understanding that the other is off-limits. Looking down at your irritated face, Dick only grinned wittingly and nodded towards your bag full of cash over your shoulder, "I assume... money's tight?"

You could only laugh, feigning shock, "Oh, right, I forgot you don't know what it's like to be poor because your daddy's filthy rich." With a quick shove away from his suit-bound chest, you backed away from him and started immediately looking for exits.

Dick noticed and shook his head. "Hey man, he may be a billionaire, but he doesn't give me a single penny!" Dick stepped closer to you as you stepped back, cornering you. "Can you believe that?" He muttered, his perfect hair looking like a bright shade of red from your close-up point of view underneath the hue of the emergency lights.

You looked up at him, then looked down as you considered punching him in the stomach to get away. The vigilante began eyeing your bag, taking the chance and reaching for it when you were distracted looking for his weak points.

Acting quickly, you rip the bag away from him, bolting for a closed window jumping out of it and into another rooftop of a building. Glass had flown everywhere, some of it cutting you, and some of it landing inside your shoes. Dick laughed in slight annoyance as he saw you take off, not wasting another second and going right after you. "You can't run forever! I know this bank personally, s/o, they're getting their money back!"

You don't waste time looking behind you and flip him the bird over your shoulder, leaping onto another building with a running start. Midair, you feel a strong arm wrap grab your waist and fling you around in an unknown direction — just until you reach solid ground on top of a 24/7 diner. Not used to being in the fucking air you found yourself holding onto the superhero's shoulder's in a vice grip until you let go, finding the whole situation mortifying.

"Breakfast?" Dick looked at the bright Neon sign that was below eye level from his spot on the rooftop, grinning at you so coyly; he was serious.

"It's 4 AM, Dick." You say his name like an insult, rather than a title.

Dick, however, was unfazed, having heard that joke over a thousand times in his lifetime. "Well, yeah it's midnight, but I'm hungry and— Oh shoot! I'm short on cash... S/o? Do you happen to have cash?" Nightwing crossed his arms and hummed in thought looking around like a sailor looking for land.

You could only roll your eyes at his behaviour, knowing he was serious about using the money you stole to buy himself a chicken-fried steak and a stack of pancakes.

A normal person who was to look at this man's behaviour would have instantly known he was joking; you, however, were no ordinary man. For you have known Grayson for longer than you wanted to have known him, and a couple of years' worth of time spent with the acrobat was enough information for you to know; he fucked around, but man, did he love finding out.

You felt your shoulders drop in a "why-not" attitude, and you let out a long sigh, shrugging and gesturing to jump down from the rooftop of the diner.

With a pursed lip smile, Dick hopped down and opened the diner's front door, beckoning you inside eagerly. After you got down, you rolled your eyes at him but laughed anyway, finding the situation unbelievable. "Did you want a blowjob for your chivalry?" You joked, peeking over your shoulder to catch Grayson checking out your ass from behind you.

"Why; is that an offer?" Grayson ran his tongue over his bottom lip, rapid-firing his side of the banter. The hostess stood before the two of you, watching the exchange occur uncomfortably. Despite your public profanities, she couldn't care less, it was 4 am.

"Table for two?"

——————————————————————————————————

The air was calm in the diner, it smelt of coffee — which made sense, because how else would you stay awake at this ungodly hour? You were lucky that there was no one else here; a swarm of men and women alike would have crowded around the superhero sitting before you, had it not been empty.

As you scanned the menu briefly, you couldn't help but get a little distracted at the sight of the man before you. Stealing glances above the menu, you leaned back in your side of the booth and shrunk, trying to look as if you aren't staring at him just for the sake of staring.

"I know I'm gob-stoppingly gorgeous, but be careful, you might even fall in love with me with that look." Dick snorted, dropping the menu down on the table to reveal his shit-eating grin.

"Oh fuck off," You murmured, looking away for a second only to meet his eyes again. "... So what's the plan, Dick?" Your embarrassment was soon replaced with your focus on the important matter at hand. "Are you planning not to turn me in today? Plan to take me out to dinner like one of your girls?" His attention was now completely on you, his eyes carefully watching you as you got comfortable in your cushioned seat, balancing your head on your hands as you leaned forward.

"What do you want?"

Dick gulped. "Well, I... I want a huge stack of your house buckwheat pancakes and a soda float, if you please." His demeanour shifted completely as he transformed from sexy-man to child-patron when he waved his hand over to the waitress to get her attention and his order in. "And— What, a milkshake? A milkshake for the gentleman please— And fries!" He looked back at you, "can't have a milkshake without fries, am I right?"

You could only stare blankly at him as he conversed with the waitress across the room, "Dick, look at me." getting fed up with his indifference, you reached forward to grab his jaw lightly by the tips of your fingers, angling his face to confront you. You could feel your heart skip a beat as his dark blue eyes focused on you once again.

Your breath hitched, and you nearly forgot what you wanted to say. "... The hell do you want with me now that we're here?" You repeated under your breath, watching as one of his hands reached up to grab your hand on his face.

"Well,"

"Maybe I just wanted to waste some of your time, sweetheart."

don’t worry everyone the doctor who wiki has everything under control

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

Juno | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Male!Reader (SMUT😉)

A/N: Wow another Steve Rogers fic. Anyways this one is smut. Also this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so it's going to be really bad. So enjoy!

Title and plot (loosely) based off of Sabrina Carpenter's new song (stream the album btw or else):

Juno

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: I might let you make me Juno 😉

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex

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

“And then he said to me, ‘How about you change your dentures!’” A chorus of laughter erupted from around the table. Among the voices and chuckles was Y/N, sporting a fake laugh to hide the pain he was currently feeling on the inside. He so badly wanted to leave, thinking that laughing at whatever he was presented with would help pass the night. 

Y/N was an Avenger. He loved his job – no doubt. He loved being able to help people on a worldwide scale, and the overall idea of doing something that mattered. However, what Y/N didn’t realize was that the fine print of the Avenger’s contract included him forcefully being present at the annual U.S. Defence Symposium Convention, where diplomats and political leaders from around the globe gathered to discuss foreign affairs. While he never had to speak during these conventions, Y/N’s presence was required for Avengers PR reasons. Why it couldn’t be anyone else was a question he’d never find the answer to. Luckily for him, he wasn’t alone this year. Even better for him, he was with his lovely boyfriend.

Y/N glanced towards Steve at the other side of the circular table. Steve was already looking at him, wearing a similar bored expression. The two shared tired smiles. A positive that came with being Captain America’s boyfriend was intimate looks like these, shared across dinner tables, conference meetings, and other situations where they couldn’t be close. Looks and glances that made Y/N feel warm inside. No one else knew, even the team, of their clandestine relationship, afraid of the uproar that would come if it were to become public. The controversy that came with two of the United States’ defensive powerhouses dating – especially considering both were men – was something Y/N chose to think about rarely.

The senator continued his comedically-not-funny joke, and Y/N felt grey hairs growing. He knew he had to leave or he would’ve broken down in tears. As a guest speaker was about to be introduced, Y/N politely excused himself from the table and glanced towards Steve, his eyes already on him. He gave him a wink – a not-so-discrete signal they both came up with before arriving, loosely meaning, ‘I can’t handle this anymore and I need to get the fuck out of here – meet me in the bathroom.’ 

As he walked through the halls of the large venue, he marvelled at the grandness of the building where the convention was held. While he despised being there, he had to admit the building was architecturally and aesthetically pleasing, being more on the higher end of NYC establishments with its Art Deco-inspired assets. When Y/N made it to the bathroom, he checked beneath the stalls to see if anyone was present before letting out a loud groan. He knew he had to talk to Nick Fury later to discuss his supposedly mandatory attendance at the energy-draining convention. He couldn’t stand another second here. Leaning against the sink, he waited for Steve to arrive.

After about two minutes, the door to the washroom opened, and Y/N was met with Steve's presence. Steve raised his eyebrows, silently asking if anyone else was there, to which Y/N responded by shaking his head. “What did it, huh?” Steve asked, closing the door behind him.

“That geriatric senator, obviously – Senator Shortdick,” Y/N groaned. The senator’s name was actually in fact Dick – something Y/N’s immaturity found astoundingly hilarious. “His very long extended joke about…I don’t even know actually.” 

“He was talking about his son, Y/N,” Steve said, walking closer to the other man. “It was a nice story – very wholesome.” When Steve reached Y/N, he wrapped his arms around his waist before giving him a small peck. 

Y/N’s eyes met Steve’s, and they both gave each other reassuring smiles. They both desperately wanted to leave, but were aware they legally couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore, Steve,” Y/N’s voice whined, laying his head on Steve’s muscular chest, and caressing his sides. “I need something exciting.” Suddenly, as if he had an epiphany, Y/N conjured a devious idea to pass the time. Looking up at Steve, he gave him a half-lidded look, an action he did in jest whenever he wanted something from him. “We should fuck right now.” 

Steve only responded with a bewildered look, slowly shaking his head and reprimanding Y/N’s unsavoury suggestion. “We can’t, Y/N,” he said. “It’s too risky. Not to mention, distasteful – we’re in public.” Steve was the more rational person in their relationship, often taking Y/N’s outrageous ideas to heed.

“Why not, Stevie?” Y/N’s voice feigned softness and seductivity. “Isn’t it exciting,” he started, arms sliding up Steve’s clothed bicep. “The idea of getting caught here.” 

“Not really-.” Before Steve could continue, Y/N connected their lips. It started soft – short and sweet – before gradually getting more intense and feverish. Steve pushed the small of Y/N’s back closer, deepening the touch of their lips. Steve wanted Y/N badly, and Y/N was aware of that. He always knew that he had some type of figurative spell over Steve, causing him to be more acquiescent towards him than any other member of the team – even before they started dating. Steve was entirely bewitched by Y/N.

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

The two eventually locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls, lips already connected and moving together hungrily. Both prayed no toilet would come beckoning some diplomat’s bladder amidst their carnal moment together. As they continued face-fucking each other, Y/N trailed his hands down towards Steve’s pantsuit. He palmed Steve’s already present bulge, rubbing it with the soles of his hand and causing a quiet whimper to leave Steve’s mouth. At hearing Steve’s sultry noise, Y/N felt his cock growing harder and heavier.

Y/N broke their lips’ ravenous movement and began unbuttoning Steve’s tux. “I saw you practically ogling me in there.” He bit one of Steve’s sensitive spots on his neck, eliciting a low groan from his throat. “It’s like you were begging to fuck me with your fuck-me eyes.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve panted in response. 

“Stay oblivious then, Stevie.” Y/N slipped Steve’s suit off, revealing his muscled buff chest. Not even a second later, Y/N’s mouth began trailing down Steve’s torso. He peppered kisses all over Steve’s chest, going further and further down until he was on his knees. Y/N came face-to-face with Steve’s growing bulge. He salivated, thinking about taking Steve’s entire cock in one go – the idea of hearing Steve’s whimpers made his dick even firmer.

Steve’s gaze was locked on Y/N. His eyes were half-closed, face flushed with both lust and pleasure. Y/N then unbuttoned Steve’s pants before taking them off which revealed Steve’s undergarments. Without sparing another moment, Y/N yanked Steve’s boxers off. Steve’s cock, upon being unclothed, sprung upwards and ached in the cold bathroom air. It begged for attention that Y/N’s mouth was more than willing to give. A slight droplet of precum was already at the slit which made Y/N even more aroused. Not wanting Steve to finish quickly (as if that is even a problem with his serum-induced stamina), Y/N started slow. He gave Steve’s shaft one long lick at the base, relishing the semi-salty taste. Y/N continued licking, throwing occasional glances towards Steve and how he was reacting. The quiet whimpering coming out of Steve’s mouth was evident he wanted – needed more. “Just please take it all, Y/N,” he quietly whined.

Y/N chuckled. He decided Steve had been good tonight and, sparing him from further punishment, took his entire cock in his mouth. A loud moan erupted from Steve to which he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to silence. Y/N had to adjust to Steve’s size for a moment before doing anything further. Despite having done this several times, Y/N always thought Steve’s dick was maybe too big for him. This wasn’t that much of a problem for him as while he did struggle in throating it, it did make his ass feel good. And very sore afterwards. After a brief moment, Y/N began to slowly move his head up and down Steve’s cock. Steve struggled to quiet down his noises of pleasure as much as Y/N struggled trying not to choke. With each movement of Y/N’s head, Steve was hitting the back of his throat which sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. Steve, however, wanted much more.

To Y/N’s shock, Steve bundled his hands in his H/C locks and shoved him further down his throat. Y/N’s eyes went wide, gagging noises coming from his clogged mouth. Before Y/N could steady himself, Steve began ramming his throat at a rapid speed, his attempt to quiet himself vanishing as he prioritized quickly getting off with Y/N’s mouth. As Steve continued at his pace, he let out breathy moans that were amplified and reverbed by the bathroom’s walls. While Steve was in pure bliss at his cock being serviced, Y/N was not able to cope with the sudden change. His hands were placed on both of Steve’s thighs, trying to steady himself. Tears pricked near the corner of his eyes as his entire buccal cavity and throat continued being ransacked by Steve’s length. Each time Steve’s cock hit the rear of his throat, Steve shuddered and Y/N gagged loudly. As Steve began nearing his climax, he began to go even quicker than his initial speed, causing Y/N’s tears to freefall down his cheeks. With one loud grunt and a sloppy thrust, Steve came down Y/N’s throat. As Y/N felt the warm and salty fluid trail down his throat, Steve’s breaths became more shallow.

Steve leaned against the stall’s door, and a slick ‘pop’ sounded as he took his cock out of Y/N’s mouth. He was still recovering from his orgasm as Y/N quickly got up from his knees and roughly pushed his chest. “Dude!’ Y/N half-yelled. “What the fuck was that? You nearly killed me!”

Steve staggered slightly at Y/N’s hit. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression that quickly vanished upon seeing his tear-stained cheeks. An apologetic look promptly dawned. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine it’s just,” Y/N said while wiping his face, “you have to warn me first before you do that.” 

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Steve did look remorseful. His face looked as if he had accidentally kicked a dog. “We should probably stop now.”

Y/N gave looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” He pointed sternly towards Steve, his voice coming out furious with a tinge of playfulness. “The only apology I’ll accept now is if you fuck me right here.”

“But, Y/N, I don’t have the…” Steve’s voice trailed off.

“The what, Steve?”

“You know,” Steve said, face slightly pink. “The wet thing and the rubber thing?”

An actual genuine look of bewilderment made its way onto Y/N’s face. “You mean condoms and lube?” Steve nodded shyly and Y/N began to laugh. “Steve, you just pounded my face in. Don’t give me any shit about you being too coy to say the words ‘condom’ and ‘lube’.” He then glanced down towards Steve’s penis which was already erect again. “Plus, your thing,” he continued, mocking Steve’s mannerisms, “still looks pretty wet from my spit. And as far as I remember, none of us have any diseases.” Y/N quickly looked towards Steve. “Right?” Steve nodded his head quickly, still too embarrassed to respond. Before Steve could do anything further, Y/N took his pants off alongside his underwear. “You’re already hard again, Steve. What are you gonna do 'bout it?”

Y/N’s teasing tone evoked Steve’s earlier confidence, leading to him hoisting Y/N around his waist, a quick yelp coming out of Y/N at the sudden movement. Before Y/N could say anything, Steve hastily prevented him by connecting their lips. Their tongues quickly tangled together, saliva combining and becoming indistinguishable from one another. “Steve, just put it in already, God.” Y/N’s voice came out breathy and unstable. Steve obeyed quicker than usual, seemingly eager to come a second time that night. Grabbing his cock with one hand and supporting Y/N with the other, he angled it towards Y/N's gaping hole. Without wasting any more time, Steve promptly thrust the entirety of his length inside of Y/N. A filthy ludicrous whine came from Y/N’s throat. His prostate was already being reached by Steve’s tip, causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He was euphoric and as Steve started moving, his speed matching that of earlier, Y/N felt like he ascended. 

Steve was usually gentle whenever they had sex, but he decided to spare no mercy tonight. His thrusts were aggressive, leaving Y/N unable to handle the surplus of pleasure he was feeling. With each graze felt by his prostate, he was sent further into the heavenly bliss he felt. “H-have you seen that one movie,” Y/N said in between heavy pants. “Juno?” He knew it was a stupid question, both in the situation he asked it in, and how he knew Steve had barely seen anything made in the 21st century.

Steve continued thrusting into Y/N, the sound of their skin slapping reverberating around the room. “No – fuck,” Steve’s voice came out breathless. “What is that?” His face was contorting into different variations of lewd expressions, making Y/N’s hard-on even stiffer. It was rare to see the Captain America in such a vulnerable state, and Y/N savoured the fact he was the only person who was able to see him like this. 

The pleasure Y/N felt inside of him was indescribable. Their fucking had never reached this level of catharsis. “Nothing – it doesn’t matter. Just keep going, Steve…please…” Y/N saw the little dribble of precum dripping from his cock. He was close. And Y/N knew Steve was too from how his pounds started becoming sloppier, and how his hands gripped his ass tighter. Their lips found each other again, and their tongues connected. Steve swallowed all of Y/N’s whimpers, biting his lower lip to prevent any would-be passersby from hearing his erotic gasps for air. 

“I’m gonna come, Y/N,” Steve breathlessly spoke. His pacing started to decline, and his entire body trembled. 

As Steve was about to endure another orgasm, Y/N saw him about to pull out. Suddenly, he protested with a hoarse sigh, “No, Steve, just finish inside me – it’s fine.” Steve nodded his head silently, not needing to be told twice. Their pants continued syncing together as Steve rode out his climax. Another load of his hot white cream exited him and filled Y/N to the brim. Shortly after Steve finished, Y/N felt his climax coming in. Steve continued floppily thrusting to aid in his release, soon releasing in thick ribbons that covered his and Steve’s chests. 

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

Steve gently collapsed both of their bodies on the ground. The pair were in a state of exhausted pleasure, their breaths still deep and frequent. It stayed this way for a few minutes – Steve and Y/N basking in the decline of their orgasms in a comfortable silence. Y/N glanced down towards his ass, a tad icked out by Steve’s jizz pouring out of him. “It’s kind of gross isn’t it,” he said to Steve. 

Steve was broken out of his euphoric trance upon hearing Y/N’s voice. “What is?” He said, still catching his breath.

“Look,” Y/N signalled to his downward area. “It looks really strange.” The pair’s eyes met and they both erupted in boisterous laughter. 

As they started quieting down from what they considered the funniest thing of that night, Steve suddenly remembered what Y/N asked earlier. “Hey, what was it with that movie you asked me about earlier.”

“Juno?” Y/N responded.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N said, getting uncharacteristically shy. “I just thought…it’d be nice if we have kids one day.” Y/N then realized what he said and began doubling down. “I mean, that is if you want any with me at all – children I mean. A family.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled at Y/N, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Y/N responded by giving him a meek smile. They both were met with another silence, their love-laced gazes filling each other with a comforting warmth. 

“How are we gonna get out of here, Steve?” Y/N’s voice came out softly, too absorbed in the moment to genuinely care about where they were.

“Now that is the predicament, isn’t it?” Steve said, reciprocating Y/N’s blissful voice.

Fortunately, it was evident that luck was on their side that night as no one had entered the bathroom at any point in their love-making.

FIN

A/N: My Google searches are legit “Synonyms for ‘cock’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms for ‘moaning’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms of ‘cum’ in fanfiction”, and “How to write smut properly.” Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever that mess was!