#anika-ann

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and landing a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body and the water and snow and icy wind would for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest pair of blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to then one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: Round 1C Audios

It's what you've been waiting for. Once again, I have compiled a small collection of personally-recorded audio bootlegs pertaining to our next sixteen Divas. Unfortunately though my 55 GB folder of audios may be vast and varied, it is exhaustive, so apologies to those I have never seen (Tyne Daly, Dee Hoty, Anika Noni Rose, Linda Emond - they've all been away from New York for so long...)

See reblog for more.

[darsynia]

I am very much behind on my reading of your stories, only halfway through Just Right, buuuut. First that came to mind was 'Dine chewing on Tony - and basically admitting her love to Steve in the process - when she was to decide whether Gold Steve should come to the mission. Cause FACTS about Steve💕 (and the sideffect was sweet bonus)

Closely followed by the end of the chapter and Steve's Flustered looks good on you. Top characterisation, dear✨

Thank you so much! I really enjoyed that speech, just the idea of going off like that and the words hitting everyone who hears them in different ways?? And thank you so very much for the compliments about characterization! I really am excited about how you'll (eventually, when you have time, all good thoughts and encouragements for your academic and other endeavors!!) feel about the rest of the story! The last 3 chapters in particular 🥰💚😘

Given that there are two Steves in the story and they both need to feel in character and yet noticeably different (at least to Dine), this was very encouraging to read, thanks again!

[ronearoundblindly]

Rouge, pumpkin, ourple :) and ngl, a tiiiny bit of Ros(i)e🤭🥰 and maybe sunny d, I need to stop

ermergerd, 🥺 i've waited my whole life to be funny, and it's finally happened and I'm speechless!

well...yeah, that checks out...and makes two of us!

colour ask game

[i completely forgot about this in my drafts. whoopsy!]

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans One Shot Rec List

here you will find all of my favourite chris evans + characters fanfiction recommendations, i have many more to add and will continue to update this list. Please don’t forget to reblog these amazing writers fics as they deserve so much love!💘💘

Walk On The Wild Side - @hansensgirl

you just wanted to go for a stroll down the road—but he wants you to take a walk on the wild side. (Dark!Chris Evans)

You Better Not Pout, Better Not Cry - @hansensgirl

they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. (Dark!Multi character) - i would add every single one of her fics to this list if i could💘

Sinful Devotion - @evansbby

Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words, Lloyd pops your cherry)- my favourite writer in the whole universe💘

Smothered With Bliss - @whereireid

Is it hard being married to the most influential man in America? You most certainly think it is. — Steve Rogers: Captain America, the heart of his nation, the soul of his country. After returning home from a particularly bad day at work, Steve finally snaps, deciding you need re-educating on how to be the perfect housewife.

The Night - @misshoneybee

Working as the Barber family's nanny is a piece of cake, but what happens when the dad you've been tip-toeing around all year comes home late one night to find you asleep in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater?

Little Miss Red - @anika-ann

Ransom’s looking for a good time tonight, when you walk through the door, he knows he’ll get it. And you? Oh you’ll get it too. He's going to make sure of it.

Unholy Errand - @buckets-and-trees

You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss. (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark! God The Bounty Hunter + Ransom Drysdale)

What A Shirt Can Tell - @justalonelyslytherin

5+2 times Colin asked 'Is that my shirt?' plus the one time he got asked it. Aka a look through the journey of Colin and his girl, each in which his shirts play an important role.

Start Again - @wkemeup

A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath (Steve Rogers)

Daddy’s Little Pet - @sinner-as-saint

You and Steve are the epitome of ‘opposites attract’. He is the American hero, a super soldier who is known for his bravery, and righteousness and for being the one leading the Avengers. You, on the other hand, are a well-known fashion designer in the city. Creator and owner of your own brand, and elite boutique. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like you and Steve would be compatible. But you surprisingly are. And behind closed doors, in secrecy – you two are each other’s solace, each other’s definition of home. He’s your strong, loving and caring man. And you, his lovely, little pet whom he adores more than life itself.

Good Girls And Skype Calls - @youre-deadangel

chris gives you a treat for behaving.

Afternoon Delight - @christowhore

you're steve's live-in housekeeper and find your boss and his friends having a bbq on a heatwave stricken afternoon. they invite you to join them and show you all the pleasurable ways to cool down from the sun. (SoftDark!Steve Rogers + Sam Wilson + Bucky Barnes)

Got You - @hispeculiartreasure

The two of you had grown close over the last year; first as teammates, then as friends. You had been distant at the start, just as he had. Slowly, agonizingly - blood, sweat, and tears were definitely involved - walls were dismantled. A current of trust ran between you, one which caught Steve by surprise. As dense as he could be about matters of the heart, suspicions of his blossoming romantic feelings being mutual had proven true with a simple kiss. (Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers)

Golden Boy - @bucksfucks

you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but. (Roommate!Steve Rogers)

It Must Be That Old Evil Spirit - @vonalyn

There’s something unsettling about his demeanor but you can’t quite put your finger on it. As if there’s something hiding beneath the surface just waiting to pry its way out of the tight shirt across his broad frame and tear your throat out. Maybe it’s your general unease around others when you’re traveling alone, or maybe it’s just him.  (Jack-O-Lantern!Ari Levinson)

Stupid Kitty - @onsunnyside

Your father wrongfully entrusted Lloyd to care for you—it’s too bad he’ll never get you back. (Lloyd Hansen x Cat-Hybrid!Reader)

Manners- Or Lack Of Them - @rogerswifesblog

Ransom wants you, the sweet girl at the bar…but you’re not what he expected you to be. (Sub!Ransom Drysdale + Mommy!Reader)

Shadow Boxer - @mypoisonedvine

you’re stuck in the same destructive cycle with ransom, but maybe you don’t want to get out of it. (Angst + Smut, Ransom Drysdale)

It’s Not A Challenge - @gagmebucky

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. (Boxer!Steve Rogers)

Pretty Princess - @frostironfudge

Andy Barber gets jealous when he presumes you shared a room with one of his associates.

Over And Over - @frostironfudge

Ari Levinson is a possessive man, he'll punish you till you apologise.

Such A Good Boy - @lilacevans

You and Ari attend a business meeting, and at the beginning the other boss you're meeting with just assumes that Ari is the one in charge; however, that's not the case. While you look dainty, angelic, like you couldn't even hurt a fly, you're the one who runs the family and will not hesitate to fuck up anyone who stands in your way. (Puppy!Ari Levinson) - one of my favourite fics EVER.💘

Breathe - @buckyownsmylife

The one where the new co-star is obsessed with the idea of making Chris hers, but he makes sure to show her you’re the only one for him.

Justified - @dbnightingale24

Ransom has always been the center of your world you’ve always been the center of his. However, when he can’t change his ways and you’re tired of the heartbreak, is it really so bad if you think it’s best to walk away? Ransom thinks so. - one of the sweetest most talented writers i have ever met💘

My, My, My - @1800jjbarnes

Stevie couldn't help it. Every time he saw you, he felt himself grow heavy in his slacks. You were everything he needed. And he needed you now.

All The Time - @geminixevans-stan

He is one of the most powerful men on earth but there’s more worse than him (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark!Nick Fowler)

Snack - @katherineswritingsblog

he just wants his snack- which is you.

Watchful Eyes - @espinosaurusrexex

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself. (CEO!Steve Rogers)

Cherry On Top - @dcllbows

you’ve found your favorite way to help your daddy with his grownup work. (Ddlg, Daddy!Andy Barber)

Voracious - @arilevinsons

The first time he set eyes on you; you were his sudden infatuation. (DarkProfessor!Ari Levinson)

Best Friend’s Dad - @imyourbratzdoll

you've been pining over your best friend's dad and decide to take your chance, knowing he's out and your best friend is asleep, you be a little bit naughty and touch yourself on his bed, not knowing he's coming home early.

The Breeding Ground - @fl0werfae

To others, Ari’s house was a breeding ground for him and his omega, but to him it was just fulfilling her purpose of carrying his pups. (Alpha!Ari Levinson)

My Sweet Pea - @mavsstar

Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much. (Trailer Park Au)

Like A Movie Scene In The Sweetest Dream - @worksby-d

Johnny’s always been on your “no” list, but you've finally agreed to work with him. (Pornstar!Johnny Storm)

Easy As Pie - @navybrat817

You bake pies for Andy, but you're still his favorite treat.

[americas-ass-writing]

Get up, try again, walk it off

Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve was tired of it all and wants to give up but someone convinces him not to

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a hospital, dark thoughts, thoughts of death/ wanting to die

A/N: I wrote this when I was absolutely devastated after yet another rejection. I fixed the ending to be happier when I was in a better mood. I would have let this rot in my drafts if it wasn't for @anika-ann telling me that it's beautiful I could channel my emotions and create something and that she wants to read it. So thanks love 💙

You fall, you push yourself up. You fail, you try again. You get hurt, you walk it off.

Wisdoms Steve lived by his whole life. But what if... What if he reached a point where he doesn't have the strength to push himself up? What if he doesn't have the strength to try again? What if he doesn't want to walk it off? What if he just gave up? If he just let the exhaustion win and succumb to it?

Fight after fight, loss after loss, punch after punch. Steve was tired. So tired. He did so much good, saved so many lives. Why did he never get kindness back? Why did people spit on him for saving the city? Why did he only become a facade, a symbol and nothing else? Why did his feelings not matter?

His eyes open and he almost lets out a sigh that they do. Couldn't they stay closed? Couldn't his body just... no. That's not how his genetically engineered body works. It doesn't give up. He manages a smile at Bucky who's already berating him for risking his life and squeezes Natasha's hand that holds his. This is the most kindness he gets, his little disfunctional family. Still his heart longed for more... For a person to love him, to love Steve Rogers the man behind the shield, a person he can love back. For stolen moments, sweet smiles, comforting hugs, sweet kisses, a neverending love. But when you work as a superhero you don't get these things. You don't get a person who loves you. So his little disfunctional family is all he has, all he'll ever get. With that realisation he closes his eyes again and enjoys his friends as the yearning in his heart grows stronger once more. Maybe one day his heart will align with his brain and understand that he'll never have that kind of love. Maybe one day his body will align with his brain so it understands giving up and being tired is not an option for Captain America. Maybe one day he'll just function.

It's worst when he's alone. The silence louder than ever and his heart squeezing painfully at the loneliness. Oh how he wished he had a special someone who'd curl up next to him in the hospital bed, someone who'd text him good night, someone who'd search his eyes and frown at what they find, someone who'd try to make it better.

Sometimes he tries to distract himself, imagine he had this person. Daydreams in the kitchen of arms wrapping around his waist, of someone dancing with him while the food cooks on the stove. Reading a story and imagining himself as the love interest in the romance book he hides within the history one. Drawing himself with a blank insert of a partner, fantasising about the latest date they went on. Dreaming about someone, only to wake up and realise the hand that cradled his face was his own.

Every time he comes back to reality his heart pangs with the pain of loneliness. Steve doesn't understand why his brain and heart wouldn't just get used to it. He doesn't understand why he could feel so alone when he's surrounded by people. It's been this way for years and it never changed. Not even when he attempted to find someone. Sharon didn't work out, dates went awful and he didn't stumble upon the love of his life like in those romcoms Nat and Wanda liked to watch. His eyes find the ceiling of the med bay again and he lets out a sigh. Couldn't they stay closed for once?

"Ah Captain Rogers you're still awake" his eyes fall on an older gentleman, probably what he'd look like if he wouldn't have been frozen all those years. "I'm sorry if I woke you up I just need to check some of your vitals." He explains further and walks up to the machine Steve is connected to. Steve's eyes flit over his nametag. "No problem Mr Stan" he says with the best smile he can muster. The older man chuckles and pads Steve's shoulder lightly. "Stan is my first name. I prefer using it over my last name. Now... You probably have an interesting story to tell about how you ended up here huh? Not every day we get in Captain America on the brink of death." The older man smiles at him before he takes notes on the starkpad. Once he's done he places it on the small nightstand next to Steve's bed and pulls up a chair. "It almost seems like you've been getting more reckless over the years. You used to come in with a scrape or broken rip, we're out in a heartbeat."

Steve doesn't know what inclines him to open up to this man he hasn't met before but he lets out a sigh and rubs his face. "Brink of death? I guess I just tried to save as many people as possible. Didn't get out of the building on time before it collapsed..." The older man lifts an eyebrow and gives Steve a look as if he doesn't buy his shit. It rivals his mom's. He doesn't have to say anything to get Steve to open up. "Maybe... Maybe I don't want to do this anymore..." He whispers and the older man's face melts to a look of sympathy.

"Even superheros can change their jobs or retire" he offers oh so sweetly, causing Steve to let out a bitter laugh. "It's... Not just the job... It's everything... But especially the loneliness... How... Why do I feel lonely even if I'm constantly surrounded by people?" His eyes fill with tears that he quickly blinks away. "Oh my boy... You long for a special someone, for love? It'll find you. And before you scoff again and tell me it won't... It will. Everyone's deserving of love. And everyone will get the love they give. And you have given so much love. You'll get all of it and more back." Steve doesn't know why but he believes him. The hope in his chest blooming once again after he tried to suffocate it for years.

"But when?" His voice breaks. "It's not fair that I have to wait for it... I... I lost so much, I gave so much. Why do I not have that special someone yet?" It's the first time in years Steve has shown any form of weakness to another person. "Life isn't fair my boy... But we need to make the best out of it. Now I assume you've tried to find someone" at Steve's nod the older man hums. "Maybe you've just looked in the wrong places. Maybe you need someone like yourself that's yearning for love?" He offers and Steve thinks about it for a moment before he nods. They could help each other, love each other, heal each other. "But where would I find someone like that?" He whispers. Stan gives him a smile. "That, my boy, only you can find out. But you'll know when you meet them." He gets up and pads Steve's shoulder before he grabs the starkpad and walks to the door. "Who knows, maybe they're closer than you think" he throws over his shoulder and gives Steve a kind smile before he leaves the room. Steve looks after him and mulls over his words. Another sigh and he closes his eyes, trying to figure out a close place where someone like him could be for him to find.

A timid knock on the door pulls him out of his sleep. When did he fall asleep? He opens his eyes and is confused to see light streaming through the window. "Captain Rogers?" The melodic voice pulls his view from the window to the door, to you. His breath catches as he takes you in. You're the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

"I'm sorry to wake you but I have to take your vitals and then Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner want to have a look at you." You explain and walk over to the machine. "And after that you'll get breakfast. Your friends are already waiting in the hallway with it." You explain and put some data in the starkpad.

"Stan already took my vitals... Only 3 hours ago." Steve explains and sits up a bit to make sure he read the time right. You stop in your tracks and look at him confused. "Stan?" Steve's alarm bells ring. Oh no. Did someone sneak in? Did he tell an enemy his deepest darkest secrets? "Stan only works mornings... He hasn't started yet today" you tell him with that soft tone of yours. "Maybe you dreamt it? I don't have any data entry from 3 hours ago" you offer him the starkpad to look at his file only to confirm it. "Oh..." Steve let's out and looks at you. "I... I guess I dreamt it..." He doesn't know why he's so embarrassed by it.

"Many patients with head injuries dream weird things. It's completely normal." You explain with a smile. He takes you in once more. It's the same smile he gives. Seemingly happy but the longer you look at the eyes, the more you notice the sadness behind them. Maybe it was a dream... Maybe it wasn't. Maybe you're the one closer than he thinks yearning for love just like he does.

"How long have you been working here?" Steve asks and could throw himself out of the window for it. Maybe he should take Bucky up on the offer to learn how to flirt. "A few months now... And you?" You visibly cringe at your answer which he finds adorable. "Sorry that was stupid... You've been here since the beginning I... I'm just bad at smalltalk." Steve chuckles a little and gives you a sweet smile. "It's fine... I'm not great at it either... I uh... I'm Steve" he offers you his hand and you gently take it and introduce yourself. Steve's heart skips a beat and he's sure you'd notice it on the machine he's hooked up to but you're too busy giving him the sweetest smile there is. This time with more happiness in your eyes and Steve swears in this moment that he'll do anything to see your eyes full of happiness.

After the next mission that lands him in the med bay he isn't alone in his bed. You're curled up next to him, playfully glaring and telling him how stupid he is. He has a smile on his lips the entire time and agrees with you which makes you smile. The prettiest smile he knows and your eyes are full of happiness.

Steve thinks your eyes can't get happier, until the next time you two find yourselves in a hospital bed. This time Steve is curled up on his side, his arm carefully draped over your stomach and his eyes never leaving you and your little bundle of joy. He never imagined his heart could be so full of love, his body vibrating with happiness and here he was. Just a couple years after he wanted to give up, after he basically begged his eyes to stay close. If his body would have listened he would have missed out on his beautiful life with you and now your little one.

[abbygracerecs]

Chris Evans Fic Reccommendations

What’s a Tumblr? - @holylulusworld smut

Cockwarming - @nastybuckybarnes smut

Good Girls and Skype Calls - @youre-deadangel smut

Daddy’s Little Pet - @sinner-as-saint smut

A magical place - @fandomimaginestrash

F*** being friends - @smutsonian

Afternoon Delight - @christowhore smut

Wallets, Keys, and Bobby Pins - @marvelouscaptainrogers

Butterfly Effect - @fangirlovestuff

True Love - @coffee-with-bucky

Skinny - @stories-sometimes

Chaleur - @moonstruckbucky smut

I’m different - @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics

For a smile - @anika-ann

I knew you would - @slowly-writing

Basket Boy - @needleandhammer

The beauty within everything - @iguana-eyanna

Prom dates and broken hearts - @rogersevans

America’s sweetheart - @generallynerdy

A long, long time - @dem-obscure-imagines

What’s in his heart - @waiting4inspiration

Kiss cam - @thegettingbyp2

Say you love me - @bonky-n-steeb smut

Kiss cam - @speechlessxx

Got you - @hispecticulartreasure smut

Golden boy - @bucksfucks smut

Guys my age - @bucksfucks smut

Ruin our friendship - @bucksfucks smut

Pollen talks - @wadedickpool smut

Nature’s beauty - @biteofcherry smut

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

The Kind Of Love You Only Find Once In A Lifetime - Steve Rogers x Reader (Prologue)

A/N: This whole fic is dedicated to the wonderful @anika-ann because she was the one who reblogged the wartime footage gifs that inspired all this and I promised I'd write it 😉

Summary: Tony finds some old war footage of Steve which features someone very special to him

Word Count: 892

Warnings: Angst! Flashbacks!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

The Kind Of Love You Only Find Once In A Lifetime

Steve took a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut as he waited for the most recent flashback to leave his mind, but it just seemed permanently seared in his brain, tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. Clenching his fists he threw his first punch at the bag, the satisfying crack making his eyes snap open as he continued to throw punches. Praying that with every punch the pain would just stop.

Steve had been living in this new modern world for just under a year now, his new friends had tried to help him adjust some more than others, but settled was not the word he would use. Frankly, he didn’t think he’d ever feel settled in this new life. How could he when everything and everyone he had was back in the forties?

With his last punch, he spotted a small droplet of blood running down the leather of the bag. He paused, brows furrowing as he watched the droplet work down the bag before dropping onto the floor. Looking down at his fists he saw the wrapping around his knuckles was soaked with blood.

He needed to stop, he knew that. He could practically hear that voice in his head, the one that he simultaneously wished would stop and never go away, telling him to stop. He gave into that voice, knowing it was right, it was always right. He stepped away from the bag and began to unwrap his hands, seeing just how damaged his knuckles were. They would heal up perfectly fine and quickly on their own but that voice told him to go clean them properly so he did.

As he made his way back to his room he heard the rest of the team talking in the cinema room, as well as a voice that did not belong to this time period. Curiosity got the better of him, as he walked in he instantly recognised the footage on the screen. It was all the old footage from his time in the war.

“Where- where did you get this?” he asks, clearing his throat when he feels it begin to break.

“Dad’s old archives, it proved useful in the past,” Tony says tapping his arc reactor “So I thought I’d go through everything else see if there was anything important” he explains “found all these old reels, some said unusable on them but I asked JARVIS to compile it all together and Ta-Da” he says gesturing to the large screen.

Steve just hummed with a small nod of his head as he stared up at the screen. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mind was telling him to leave, save himself the heartbreak. But his heart kept his feet firmly planted where he stood because only it knew the connection Steve had to this footage.

The first reel with the narration ended and there were a couple of seconds of a black screen before it came back to life with more footage of him. However this time almost every clip had him looking towards the camera. To begin with, it was only for a split second but over time the gazes became longer and a smile would form on his face.

“No wonder they couldn’t use this footage, Cap keeps looking into the camera! You’re breaking the number one rule!” Nat laughs shaking her head at him.

“I wasn’t” Steve mutters.

“Yeah you are look at you” Nat argues pointing up at the screen.

“I wasn’t looking at the camera” Steve states quietly, unable to say it any louder with the lump in his throat, looking down at the floor so they wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

When the screen went black again Steve cleared his throat and went to leave, he was by the door but he froze when he heard Clint say “Who’s the girl?”

Steve didn’t even need to look at the screen to know exactly what girl it was and it was not just some girl. It was the owner of the voice in his head that he couldn't help but listen to. His body operated on autopilot as he walked back into the room and looked back up at the screen.

His breath caught and the lump in his throat doubled in size. There was no sound but Steve could hear the laughter so clearly, there was no way Steve would ever forget that laugh. He had no clue this footage even existed, his heart ached as watched as the girl on the screen laughed and tried to push the camera away.

Eventually, the screen went black and remained that way but Steve could not take his eyes off the screen praying that it would restart and he could see it all over again.

“Who was that Steve?” Nat asked her voice softer than before.

“It… it uh was someone very special to me” Steve manages to say, he quickly sniffles before glancing back at Tony “Can um… is there a way I could have a copy?” he asks.

Tony shifted in his seat “Sure, JARVIS can you get on that?”

“Already did Sir” The AI responded.

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly before quickly turning to make his way back to his room so he could go rewatch the footage of you over and over again.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[annathesillyfriend]

Hello my dearest Anna😍 I heard it's a very special day today🥰

Wish you all the best, good luck with anything you decide to take on, a circle of good people who love you as great as you are and of course, good health🥺

Have a wonderful birthday and stay PAWsome 🥳💕

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, my darling 💙💙💙

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament Bracket: Round 1C

Round 1C starts tonight March 17th at 6:00 p.m. EST. Send me your propaganda for any of the Divas on our list, but especially those about to make their entrance. I will, once again, be traveling home from the theatre right around when this round goes live, but I have everything prepped and ready like a good stage manager should.

Round 1C: ALL POLLS HERE Bebe Neuwirth vs. Laurie Metcalf Veanne Cox vs. Charlotte d'Amboise Mary Testa vs. Betty Buckley Kerry O'Malley vs. Joanna Gleason Anika Noni Rose vs. Dee Hoty Tyne Daly vs. Katrina Lenk Linda Emond vs. Jennifer Simard LaChanze vs. Ann Harada

Rules and Guidelines

Round 1B Winners | Round 1A Winners

While Lea vs. Christine saw an unprecedented number of voters, not all polls were treated with equal vim and vigor. Don't forget local elections are as important as presidential, people.

To ease the process, starting now, all polls will be tagged and linked so you can just scroll right through and click all the buttons you want.

[ronearoundblindly]

On A Scar

Steve Rogers x reader (no specific universe but this is inspired by--and for--@anika-ann 😘)

a surprise addition to my Valentine's Fics of 2024!

No warnings but I literally hurt myself it's so cute. WC 234

Steve truly is a gentle giant.

Broad-shouldered and big-handed, he could lumber around—hulk about, if you will—but instead he’s spending a lazy morning tickling you. He uses light, fluttering fingers to trace patterns on your skin while you two hide out beneath the bed sheets, a glow of daylight diffused by your makeshift hideaway.

The golden boy looks so beautiful in the morning. He’s soft and sleepy. He leans his head to your chest as if not strong enough to lift it, as if he’s wiped out by touching you in his dreams.

He tells you about those.

He whispers how you excite him, how you tease him, how you comfort him, and then he remembers that most of those are real. You really exist. You’ve really been here. You’ve really stayed. You truly love him.

His fingertips smooth over the long scar below your bellybutton, one after the other.

Index.

Middle.

Ring, adorned with his golden band.

Pinky.

Outside your cotton oasis, there’s a cry for attention, a young alarm set to a biological clock you bore from that very scar.

You and Steve sigh with matching amusement. You’ll return to this lovely interlude after a brief, bottle recess.

As he gets up, Steve plants a sweet, lingering kiss to the nerve-sensitive line.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers, and the gentle giant sneaks off to feed his super cute baby.

Jake Jensen and a kiss to shut them up ⬅️ ➡️ Ransom Drysdale and a kiss on a falling tear

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

[jtargaryen18]

Jamie's Halloween Challenge 2023

It's almost time for Halloween and no one throws a Halloween party like Tony Stark. No expense is spared and anyone who is anyone makes an appearance at the Avengers compound for the event. Tony also loves surprises, and he has plenty for the guests at this year’s event.

You (or your OC) is there as an invited guest or maybe you work for Stark Industries. Your choice. Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is to write a sizzling Halloween story. It can be dark, scary, or just really sexy, but the goal is a smutty good Halloween read.

CHARACTERS: Reader insert or OC (your choice) x any of the established Avengers, their foes, or other important characters in the MCU. You can also select a character played by an MCU actor (i.e. Bucky Barnes or Nick Fowler, Charles Blackwood, etc.) Multiple partners are allowed. LGBTQ+ stories are welcome here.

PROMPTS: You must pick one and submit it with your character choices.

The Mysterious Neighbor: Your neighbor's house always seemed normal until Halloween night. You notice something strange and decide to investigate.

A Night in the Haunted House: I don’t know why you’re there when you’re supposed to be at the party. You tell me.

The Unusual Pumpkin Patch: One pumpkin in the local patch grows faster and looks different from the others. You take it home.

The Halloween Costume Comes to Life: Remember that episode of Buffy? You rented a costume and when you put it on, that’s who you are as long as you are wearing it.

Halloween Candy: Tony only buys the good stuff when it comes to Halloween candy. But be careful. There’s a reason there are no kids at this party. Some of the candies are a pretty potent aphrodisiac.

The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

The Disappearing Act: A drink at Tony’s party turns you (or your significant other) invisible for Halloween night. What do you do?

7 Minutes in… Where?: You know the game. Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else.

The Frightening Feast: Tony has quite a spread at the party. Be careful. Each dish has magical properties.

The Portal in the Pumpkin: You carve one of the pumpkins Tony ordered, but this one turns out to be a portal to somewhere else...

RULES:

You must be 18 to write for this challenge and it must be legal to participate where you are.

While a smutty good story is the goal, no incest, underage characters, bestiality, or toilet kinks.

Dark stories are welcome. Bonus points if they’re scary.

Stories can be reader insert (preferable) but can be OC.

At some point in the story, your characters must attend Tony’s party, be planning to go to the party, or just come from the party. Bonus points if Tony makes an appearance, even if it’s brief.

You must send me an ask with your characters of choice and the prompt of your choice. `(Example: Steve Rogers x Reader and Halloween Candy)

Minimum word count is 1k words. The max length is up to you.

For this challenge, the fic must be brand new. No tie-ins to existing fics or series. No recycled stories.

Please add a “keep reading” function after 300 words and apply all needed warnings and labels to your fic.

You don’t have to follow me, just tag me in your posts and use the Hashtag #JamiesHalloween2023. If I don’t reblog your story within 3 days, please DM me.

DEADLINE: October 31, 2023

I haven't done one of these in a while and I don't know if anyone will want to participate so no limits on characters or prompts. Each story will be amazing.

Thank you!

THE STORIES

The Closet of Desire by @nicoline1998enilocin

Bad Moon Rising by @spectre-posts

Toys 'R' Us by @americasass81

Seven Minutes Pt 1 & Pt 2 by @anika-ann

The Past Always Catches Up by @holylulusworld

Something Else by @nekoannie-chan

Spiked Candy by @nicoline1998enilocin

Embracing the Darkness by @americasass81

The Mysterious House on Easton Avenue by @talesofadragon

Circles by @the-soulofdevil

Taste Me on Your Tongue by @autumnrose40

[nekoannie-chan]

Week 6 Reblog Masterlist

}Welcome to Week 6 2024 or Week 214, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my February reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 5 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 7 2024 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 6 2024:

Idiots in love (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @moonvis 💚💙

Favourite food (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckys-wintersoldier 💚💙

I know where I belong part 8 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sosa2imagines 💚

Ghosts of the past (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @the-soot-sprit💙

The right size (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @bolontiku 💚

For the longest time (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @dem-obscure-imagines 💚

Will jilted (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sarahowritesostucky 💚

Ever present shadow (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @the-soot-sprit💙

Never pegged you for a deviant (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @androidsalienswizards❤️

Jilted part 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sarahowritesostucky ❤️

Epilogue (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @the-soot-sprit💙

Are we still for (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @intrepidacious 💚

Blackberry (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mariaxxxxx❤️

I want to go down (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @howlingscarlet❤️

Jilted part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sarahowritesostucky ❤️

The spectre of hope (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @the-soot-sprit💙

Mission 100 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sebastianstanisahotmf💙

Imagine by @moonlit-imagines💙

Yandere Steve alphabet (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @yanderemcu 💚💙❤️

Wonderstruck chapter 11 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @messedupfan💚

Trust (Bucky Barnes X Reader) by @kgficz💙

Let me in (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @happy74827💙

Dashing through the snow (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @e-dubbc11💚

Back and forth part 4.1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @anika-ann 💙

Worth to wait (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @stargazingfangirl18❤️

Back in time (Logan Howlett X Reader) by @kgficz💙

Drip (Stucky X Reader) by @biteofcherry❤️

Unbreakable chapter 8 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @crazyunsexycool 💚💙

[navybrat817]

Hey! Do you have any Lloyd and Ransom fics you recommend? Really, in the feels for stache daddy and our little rich brat☺️

I have tried to answer this three times now and I really hope this goes through this time, lovely! Specific fics aren't jumping out to me, but I answered an ask recently here with a few Lloyd Hansen writers. I believe some of them write for Ransom.

A few others who have written for Ransom: @drabblewithfrannybarnes @sconnie-doesnt-know @the-iceni-bitch @cockslutpadalecki @worksby-d @fushic0re @chase-your-dreams-away @krirebr @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sagechanoafterdark @what-is-your-plan-today @spectre-posts @pagesoflauren @avintagekiss24 @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @astrorogers @eloquentreverie @nicoline1998enilocin @ramp-it-up @georgiapeach30513 @anika-ann @holylulusworld and many more.

Lovelies, I KNOW I'm missing people, especially since my list got erased thrice. Please feel free to add on.

Love and thanks. ❤️

[untilnextchapter]

Monthly Fanfictions Recommandation: September'23

Here are my best discoveries from the last weeks

🍬 The Authors

@kquil : a gentle author, writing about the Marauders, her writing will bring you peace and the writings are so soft. I love seeing her theme on my computer and seeing her icon on my dash is always a sign that I will read something good.

@luveline : you don't know if you want to read an Aaron Hotchner story or a good Marauder one? You don't need to change to another page, here is the wonderful Jade. She's so talented and you won't be disappointed if you want to check her work.

@thatfanficstuff : when I discovered this blog, I didn't know where I should go first. So many fandoms I love, so many characters, so many stories... So many comfort shows and so, comforting times after work. And sometimes, it's all I need. A gentle person writing some sweet stories.

@luci-in-trenchcoats : I read a few stories a few months ago but, I recently re-discovered this amazing author. With her works, I was back into Supernatural. So many hours spent at reading about our favourite hunters, so many series. And the best of the best: the writing skills are so great and it's so easy to read... Waow, just waow.

@imagineteamfreewill : Fluffy Supernatural fics and a lot of good AUs, all I need after a hard day at work. Meg is an excellent writer and you will spend a good time, I promise. I haven't read everything yet but, I know I have a few a good escapes in perspective. Don't hesitate , you will enjoy your time reading, I hope as much as I'm doing.

@anika-ann : I'm in my Marvel phase, I'm weak, I know. And, I think I found someone that could quench my thirst with so many good stories and good writing skills. I could spend hours reading about Steve Rogers. And I know I've found an unique writer because I loved a crossover story. I usually hate that. But here I am, reading a Criminal Minds / Avengers story and loving it. Thank you for that.

@crazyunsexycool : Another "Val", it can only be someone nice, right? But really, a sweetheart, someone with so much imagination, and a way to write about children... And I know what I'm talking about, I'm working in a nursery. It's so great to read something accurate when it's a subject you know. And except for the children, she's always here to answer your questions, being nice and taking time for her followers. I hadn't asked to be add into a taglist for a story for a long time. You won't be disappointed if you want to make a stop here.

🍭 The Stories

* = Smut (Minors DNI) || 🦋 = Series || Beware of the TW please

Not so secret admirer || @kquil (Remus Lupin x Reader, you can't hide your adoration for remus lupin and often end up staring at him, good thing he thinks you're really cute)

A star between hands 🦋 || @luveline (James Potter x Reader, finding out you’re princess isn’t half as intimidating as your new bodyguard, James. mutual pining, fluff)

if things go bad || @/luveline (Aaron Hotchner x Reader, Hotch rushes to get to you when you call him during a home invasion. angst, hurt/comfort)

True Mate 🦋 || @thatfanficstuff (Peter Hale x Reader)

Remember me || @/thatfanficstuff (Thranduil x Reader)

I Know Your Brother || @luci-in-trenchcoats (Sam Winchester x Reader, The reader is pulled out of Hell accidentally by Sam Winchester who’s wondering where his brother is…)

A Safe Mistake 🦋 || @/luci-in-trenchcoats (Nanny!Dean x Single Parent!reader, Dean’s in need of some extra cash to help Sam pay for his tuition and gets a job working as a nanny for the reader’s young son. As Dean becomes ingrained in the reader’s life though, he soon becomes more than just the nanny to them both…)

Beauty and the Beast 🦋 || @imagineteamfreewill (Dean Winchester x Reader AU, Living in a village is nice, and even though you’d always longed for adventure, you weren’t expecting to go on an adventure of your own anytime soon. But as soon as you take your father’s place as the prisoner of a Beast who lives in an enchanted castle, you’re surprised that adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—and neither are monsters)

Daisy || @/imagineteamfreewill (Sam Winchester x Deaf!Daughter!Reader, Sam breaks some bad news to his daughter, who’s deaf, and watches her start to grow up without her mother)

Love on the Brain 🦋 || @anika-ann (Steve Rogers x Reader / Crossover MCU-Criminal Minds, You found menacing pictures of you friend, colleague and neighbour Steve in your mailbox.   Someone might play it off as a bad joke, but you were an agent for the Avengers Initiative and a former FBI agent. You’ve seen cases like this and you were taking no chances. Not with Steve of all people. But you were going to need help; enter the BAU)

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold 🦋 || @/anika-ann (Steve Rogers x Reader, Matt Murdock x Reader, You officially joined the Avengers only two months ago and you’re about to take off to yet another mission. Cap would like to have some extra help on this one – but the Avengers have approached the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen before and he made it pretty clear how he felt about it. Of course, this time it’s you who got stuck with trying to convince him once again. “I still don’t understand why it’s not you coming, oh Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” “I do have a plan. I have you.”)

Heart’s Munition 🦋 || @crazyunsexycool (Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!Reader. I can't copy and paste all the resume but I swear, you'll love it. A bit of surprise but it's worth the world)

My little love * 🦋 || @/crazyunsexycool (Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader. Really long resume but in short, Bucky, Reader, children, Papa and Mama bears, great scenario, you'll love it I promise!)

That's all, for now.

Don't hesitate to share the stories you liked and tell the writers you enjoy their works, it always means a lot to them ❤️

Have a good reading,

Val 🌸