Erinallene - 1982 Baby

Thats it

The thing that killed me.

This is the end of the line for me.

Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

Nose scrunch ála Sebastian

Relative Dating Part Eighteen

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Welcome back to the latest garbage fire!

The artifact mentioned in this chapter is a fake one.

Warnings: Cursing; period-typical sexism; period-typical expectations of women; some angst; fluff

Summary: It’s been three years since she left him to spend his last night alone in Cairo—three years of living in New York; three years of half-heartedly wondering what might’ve been; and three years of wondering if she, wherever she is, thinks of him, too.

“I don’t want a lot of tears tomorrow.”

“Then don’t cry.” She gives him a sly look, even as his eyes narrow in irritation at her.

“I meant from you,” Indiana clarifies.

“I won’t cry. I’m not leaving Cairo empty-handed.”

“Right,” He drawls, eying the black Abyssinian kitten in the carrier in her hand.

“Isn’t she cute!”

“You name her?”

“Bastet, of course.”

“Of course.”

Keep reading

Field of Dandelions || Maverick

✧ part 2 of My Protector. this fic is heavily inspired by Dandelions by Ruth B, so if you want the full effect, listen while you read 💗

✧ summary: Maverick intended to keep his promise to Goose about protecting you. After not seeing one another for 3 weeks, Pete stops by to check in on you, and take you for a joyride. One that leads you to a familiar place, where a newfound desire is expressed, based on the premise of making a wish on a dandelion.

✧ pairing: Peter 'Maverick' Mitchell x Bradshaw!Female!Reader

✧ Maverick masterlist

"'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine And I see forever in your eyes I feel okay when I see you smile, smile Wishing on dandelions all of the time Praying to God that one day you'll be mine Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time,"

“I’m going to protect you. Goose made me promise.” 

It was those two statements that constantly flowed throughout your mind. They echoed with the loudest bravado, and they oftentimes consoled you at night when the tears blurred your vision while you gripped polaroid pictures of you and Nick in your hands. 

Maverick had kept his promise. Any chance he got, he’d give you a call, to check on you, and see how you were. It had been a few months since Goose’s passing and every day it slowly got better. 

While you never knew that Nick told of your embarrassing story of doodling hearts around Pete’s name, the Naval Aviator was slowly beginning to see you in a new light. He didn’t want to just protect you, he wanted to take care of you. Maverick never felt a sense of protectiveness before, not this strong, until you happened. 

And as he sat on his motorcycle, veering closer to your small house nestled by the water. The lake was peaceful to you, and it brought about memories of when you used to make your brother go out into the water with you. 

“You want to be a pilot, Nick? Survive in this boat first!” You remembered telling him. 

“I’m meant to fly with the birds, not sail with the fish, Sis!” He would respond to you. 

You were tucked away in the kitchen finishing up a few tasks when you heard the low rev of him. Your heart leaped into your throat. You hadn’t seen Pete in a few weeks and you weren’t sure why you felt so giddy to see him. Maybe it was because of the task that Goose assigned him to do if something ever happened to him – to protect you, Bradley, and Carole, but especially you. 

Walking over to the door, you pulled it open to see him smiling already. 

“Pete,” You whispered. 

“There’s my favorite girl,” He winked, pulling off his aviators. “You busy?” 

You shook your head. “No, what’s up?” You smiled, leaning against the door.

Pete looked behind him, the seat rather empty. “Wanna take a joyride?” He asked. 

It didn’t take much to convince you. You closed the door and raced over to him. He wrapped his arms around you for a sweet embrace. “Get on, and hang on tight,” He smiled.

You got on the back and wrapped your hands around his waist. With your cheek pressed into his back, you smiled and felt as he started to take off. The wind whipped through your hair and Pete started to take you two into the city, finding the perfect spot to grab speed and have you laughing behind him.

That laugh melted his heart. He hadn’t heard you laugh like that since before Nick died. It warmed his heart and when he approached a traffic light, he couldn’t help but rest his hand over yours that clung to his abdomen. 

Taking off again, you watched the city pass you by, the sun setting dramatically low in the sky to create a beautiful horizon of orange and pink. It took your breath away and the feel of Maverick in front of you, it only solidified the moment to become one that would be engraved in your mind forever. 

When Maverick pulled the motorcycle into a nearby parking space, you saw the field before you.

“A field, Pete?” You giggled. You saw the array of wildflowers and it brought a smile. 

“Not just any field,” He said. “It’s the Bayfield – the one where we rolled Goose down one day for the fun of it,” 

The steepness of the top made your eyes widen. Laughter erupted and it made Pete smile even wider. He hurriedly stepped off, pulling you with him before you two were racing into the field together. Maverick had shimmied out of his jacket and tossed it over your shoulders before you were climbing onto his back while he carried the two of you up the hill. 

Soon, you two were falling together on the soft grass, giving you the biggest panoramic view of the sky. Laying flat on your backs, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. 

“Mav,” You whispered, staring up at the puffy white clouds that were painted in the midst of pink and orange. “Thank you,”

Maverick smiled and felt the sudden twitch of your fingers brushing over his wrist. He turned his head to the side, coming to find you staring back at him. 

“I’m going to protect you. With that, it means I’m going to show you fun, and excitement,” He whispered. “Just like Goose wanted for you.” 

You giggled, covering your mouth to hide them, but Pete was taking your hand away.

“Don’t cover your smile… It’s the prettiest thing about you,” His words laced your ears like dripping honey. Your eyes fluttered at the compliment. 

“Pete,” You trailed his name in a hushed tone. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you picked up a dandelion. Maverick smirked, watching as you pulled it to your lips. You rolled over onto your side, kicking your feet in the air. 

“What are you thinking about?” He smiled. You pulled the dandelion close to your lips. Closing your eyes, you blew on it, watching as it separated from its bud. Flutters of white fell onto Maverick’s white cotton t-shirt, making him laugh. 

“Making a wish,” You trailed with a whisper.

Maverick plucked some of the strays off his chest. “Really? What were you wishing about?”

Oh, if only he knew. 

“I can’t tell you! That defeats the purpose!” You exclaimed. He saw how you adorably kicked your feet back and forth. He saw a clear depiction of his best friend on your face, how you were so young and so free. Just like him. Just like Nick. 

“So, if you tell me, it won’t come true? Is that it?” He pondered cheekily, his tongue jutting forward to wet his lips. He looked so attractive when he did that. The way he moved his jaw, sent shivers racing down your spine.

You wished on that particular dandelion that he’d make a move. Oftentimes, you found yourself growing tired of waiting. You wanted Maverick in ways that you never expressed to anyone. It was one that for Goose to figure out your massive crush, but it was another when you would lie awake at night, praying that the pilot would see you for what you were. 

Not just his best friend’s little sister, but a woman who was so in love with him that could barely hold a simple thought in her brain.

“That’s the rule of thumb, isn’t it, pilot?” You snickered. 

“Give me a hint,” Maverick teased you. He knew he could get you to tell him anything. 

You stared into his green orbs, watching the way they flickered while gazing at your eyes. 

“You,” You whispered. 

You grabbed another dandelion and blew into it, your eyes closed as you envisioned the way his lips would feel pressed to yours. You inhaled the erotic scent of his cologne and it sent you to another world.

“Me?” Maverick pressed. 

Please, kiss me. Please. You thought. 

Smiling gently, you stared back down at another dandelion. “That’s all you get, Maverick,” You whispered. 

He glanced between you and the dandelion in your hand. 

“Then let’s see if your wish comes true,” He stated. Your eyebrows furrowed when he raised up. Reaching out to you, your breath caught when Maverick wrapped his hand around your cheek and brushed his thumb underneath your eye. 

Everything felt as though it were falling into place. The gentle feel of his hands on you had you quivering to the core, but when he leaned his head forward and his warm breath fanned across your bottom lip, you lost that train of thought. 

“M-Maverick,” You squeaked.

He shook his head.

“Don’t think… Just do,” His words laced your ears. 

You did exactly what he asked. You stopped thinking, and just did what you wanted to do. Leaning forward and closing the remaining gap, he brushed his lips across yours. Your eyes closed and you swore that fireworks went off in your head. 

His lips were velvety soft against yours. You couldn’t stop the sweet, delicate moan that left your mouth, one that Pete swallowed with proudness. You kissed him in such a way, that he felt that if he didn’t keep kissing you – he wouldn’t be able to breathe. 

Stroking his fingers through your hair, you kissed him deeper until you were pulling away to gasp for air. Maverick stared at you, green eyes ablaze as he tried to decipher what was happening – that swirling look in your eye worried him. 

Had he just ruined everything? 

“Y/N? Sweetheart, talk to me,” He caressed your cheekbone. 

You offered him a warm smile.

“My wish came true, Maverick,” You announced, smiling sweetly. 

Maverick grinned, pulling you in for another kiss.

tagging:

@erinallene

@natasharomanoffisbaebby@hallecarey1@luckyladycreator2@pastel-0-princess@mysticaldonkey

'til the morning comes (6/?)

steve rogers x reader (fluff and angst)

summary: you need to get some air, and see some friends.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of the death of a father, super vague mentions of MCU-typical violence/terrorism

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 7) (series masterlist)

 “Trouble in paradise?” Helen peers above her sunglasses, frowning.

 “What?” As if you hadn’t spent ten minutes inside the hotel bathroom washing your face with cold water, minimizing its puffiness. “No.”

 “I just thought your hot-shit husband would be the one driving you around,” she explains while you buckle your seatbelt. “He seemed really excited to pick you up last night.”

 Back then, you had expected a text to light up your phone at eleven o’clock, followed by excusing yourself from the bar. But Steve actually found you and walked to the rental car. He greeted your friends charmingly, shaking hands and joking about the late hour, but mostly he ushered you out the door to kiss you again. And again and again—

 “We’re not married,” you mutter.

 “Like, really excited.” She elbows your ribs. "Did you have sex?"

 You roll your eyes. “Can I not just wanna see my best friend?”

 Helen removes her sunglasses in time for you to spot her side-eye. “Not when she’s hungover, and late to work.” She exits the roundabout driveway and starts toward the Fairmont. “Honestly, a school night. You’ve changed.”

 At least these drinks celebrated an accomplishment. Once, you went with Joaquín because a student vomited on your favorite patterned dress and her mom had shamed you for failing to nurse her precious daughter back to health. Still, Helen’s chastisement—no matter how lighthearted—makes you squirm. “I missed you,” you tell her, “Doesn’t that count for something?”

 She checks her mirrors. “How was your art thing?”

 You haven’t given her an update yet. Your friend group had agreed to a No Work Talk policy on nights out. Though, the art festival never felt like work—so unlike the long days you spent prancing around Steve’s office, providing help where it probably wasn’t strictly needed. The event meant something to you. And to Steve, who apparently hid his creative talents from you.

 Paling in comparison to what you hid from him.

 “It was fun,” you say honestly. “It was… everything.”

 Helen gives you a sidelong look. “You don’t sound enthused.”

 You cross your arms. The festival should spark a dozen happy memories: a triumphant return to the elementary school you loved, to doing what you do best. Plus, a definite win for the campaign, the entire night brimming with your favorite people.

 Maybe twenty year’s time will allow you to forget all the bad that happened after. “I wish I could stay longer.”

 “Shut up,” Helen laughs. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

 Your face warms, because No Work Talk inevitably meant Steve Talk. Your futile attempts to discuss Joaquín’s abrupt switch to kindergarten or Helen’s new roommate or Dane and Sersi’s next vacation all failed to overshadow the rapid questions regarding your fiancé.

 You answered them like a lovesick schoolgirl, the corners of your lips lifting as you pictured him, especially his slightly mussed hair when you reluctantly left the heat of your first real kiss.

 Now, thoughts of Steve turn sour. Nails scraped across his scalp out of frustration rather than passion. His height towering over you. The room filled with his anger, floor to ceiling.

 He made you feel small. Maybe you are, or maybe you should be.

 “It was fun while it lasted.”

 Helen interprets your shift in tone as your mind shifting to Shangqi, and the spirit inside her car lessens. Jerking a thumb toward the backseat, she explains, “I have two things of pajeon. One for him, one for Xialing.”

 You squint at the truly giant containers, crammed with steamed-up food and strapped into each seat. “You cooked?”

 Helen huffs, pulling into the Fairmont’s driveway. “Well, I bought it and then lovingly transferred it to a different container, creating the illusion that I can cook.”

 Apparently, no amount of misery can ever overpower Helen making you laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You gently dismiss the valet driver as you unbuckle the comfort food.

 Helen doesn’t return your smile, mocking seriousness. “You realize how much takeout I eat now that you’re gone?”

 “Thanks for the ride.” You haphazardly balance the Tupperware against your torso while shutting the door. “Y'know, I can send you my recipes.”

 “Too much work.”

 “For one of the smartest people I know, you’re awful at following directions.”

 “Hey.” Helen stretches across the console. “Double checking. You sure you’re okay?”

 She needs to get to her lab. “Yeah,” you lie. “Love you.”

 “Love you.”

 You weave effortlessly through the bustle inside the Fairmont. Enough red-vested employees give you vague nods of recognition that you sneak inside the staff break room without arousing too much suspicion. There, you find Shangqi poking a vending machine, his crisp white sleeves folded to his elbows.

 “Hi,” you whisper. Then, you realize the room is empty.

 He tilts his head affectionately, flipping his soda can. “Hey, Mrs. President.”

 You wrinkle your nose, bashful at the stupid nickname. “Um…” You shove the pajeon toward him. “Helen sends her love to you and Xialing.”

 Shangqi hums. Then, he lifts the plastic from your hands, stifling any of your weak objections with a tight embrace. You shove your nose into the scratchy material of his uniform, which smells like the inside of a new car mixed with crisp laundry detergent. Reminiscent of home—or what home used to be. You mold yourself to his solid, secure body.

 You’re already sniffling. “Why didn’t you take the day off?”

 He sits at a small round table, cracking open his soda and poking the giant mass of food now in his possession. “Already, with the patronizing.”

 You fold your arms. “Sorry. I know.”

 “Maybe parking cars helps me process my emotions," he chuckles, while motioning you to grab a chair. “The lack of tips is a metaphor for my grief.”

 You place a hand over his, letting one finger trace the bumps along his scarred knuckles. “Shangqi,” you start again, “I’m really sorry.”

 He drinks his soda, his mouth forming a thin line. “It was unexpected but… bound to happen.”

 Thankfully, no foul play. His father passed in his sleep, an oddly peaceful death for such a violent person.

 Although, that side of Wenwu never revealed itself to you. Shangqi and Xialing openly disdained him, and although their tension thickened the air of his cold home, you mostly remembered an old, kind man who made you tea and inquired about your career.

 A nice girl, Shangqi relayed to you later, lightly mimicking his father’s accent.

 The nicest, you replied smugly.

 “Is there anything I can do to help?” You feel stupid asking the question, especially with the hours counting down before your flight back to New York.

 His smile returns, barely detectable, and he interlocks your fingers briefly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 “Bothering you during your lunch break?” you tease, but your grimace keeps the mood dampened.

 He smacks the plastic lid. “I get to eat scallion pancakes for the next two weeks, thanks to you.”

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asking a second time usually earns you a real answer.

 Shangqi softens at your concern. “I don’t know. It’s my dad.”

 “He was intense,” you agree.

 “Not exactly the most healthy relationship I’ve ever had.”

 You bite the inside of your lip. The crack in his voice transports you back to the nights you spent at his place, the rare ones when he opened up about Wenwu. Even underneath the cover of darkness, you struggled to look Shangqi in the eye as he talked through the trauma of living under the Ten Rings’ oppressive shadow. A past he rejected without hesitation, favoring a cramped studio apartment and a low-paying job heavy with entitled customers. Something simple and uncomplicated, far from family.

 Still, you listened, both to his stories and to his heart beating steadily against your cheek, pretending—mostly for your own sanity—that throwing a leg over him and tracing patterns on his chest could protect him from the worst of it, and lull him into a sleep where thunderous nightmares wouldn't jerk him awake.

 “You’re the only one of my girlfriends to meet him.” He clears his throat, eyes going glassy at the realization. “Actually, you’ll be the only one to ever meet him.”

 “Well, I’m lucky then.”

 “You don’t have to lie,” he says bitterly. “He did some terrible things.”

 Six months into your relationship, you accepted Shangqi’s first—and extremely hesitant—dinner invitation to meet his father.

 You owed him. While your personal challenges could never eclipse his, he supported you, through frazzled weekend lesson-planning and long nights. Shangqi drove you to half a dozen art stores to find the best deal, kissed your shoulder when you cried, offered to beat up your administration when you texted him about losing your job.

 No, you didn’t owe him; it wasn’t an obligation. Rather, a privilege. To have a little bit of his pain be yours.

 “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s your father, and a part of who you are.” You nod decisively. “I got to be a part of that.”

 He sighs, a brief and shaky thing. “Thanks.”

 “But I…” You wipe away a tear. “I can’t go to the funeral.”

 “That’s alright. You’re busy.”

 The quickness of that response makes you wince. “I’m sorry, I tried, but I’m not—”

 “Hey." Shangqi takes your hand again. “S’okay.”

 “I should have answered my phone last night,” you choke out.

 “I didn’t even think you were in the city.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I kinda expected you to be asleep on the east coast.”

 You scoff. You would have preferred that. Instead, guilt calcifies inside your stomach.

 Mere months ago, you wouldn’t have so idly dismissed his name flashing on your screen. He seldom called you—never twice in a row. But you were too distracted by your friends, the drinks you shared with them, the prospect of spending the rest of that night with Steve. While you and Shanqi ended on good terms and you’d never purposely ignore him, maybe deep down you rebuffed even the possibility of something sidetracking your perfect night.

 Fucking selfish.

 “I just wanted to hear your voice,” he confesses. “I didn’t expect any more from you.”

 You shake your head, refusing his conjured-up excuses for your behavior. “I should have called back. I would’ve wanted to be there for you.”

 “You’re here now,” he urges. “Even if you are taking up my lunch break.”

 With a cheeky wink, Shangqi grabs a plate and two forks from the miniature kitchen counter. He cracks open the top container, carefully transferring a pancake and cutting it in half.

 The moment strikes you as alarmingly familiar: yet another one of the hundred meals you’ve shared, yet another time you’ve arrived with food to break up the monotony of his day. In fact, you could both name the exact Korean place where Helen got these pancakes. And if you thought about it, you could probably recite Shangqi’s regular order back to him.

 Earlier today, as you pushed through the hotel doors, the muffled yet cheery beat of Helen’s favorite pop music reached your ears, immediately relieving the burns in your heart after leaving your fiancé speechless on the hotel room floor.

 You suck in a deep breath. It’s been so long since you’ve felt at ease, among friends, your love mutual and long-lasting.

 It’ll never be this way with Steve. The realization crushes you a little.

 “I have to ask about your new guy,” Shangqi remark, offering you a sip of his drink.

 “No, you really don’t,” you mumble.

 “That happened quickly.”

 “Only because—” He wouldn’t believe the truth, if you could tell him. And if he did believe you, he’d pity you. “We should talk about you and your dad.”

 “C’mon.” He leans backward, satisfied with how flustered you seem. “Take my mind off things. Are you with him ‘cause of his money and looks? Be honest.”

 “No, Steve, he’s…”

 “He’s rich and attractive,” Shangqi supplies.

 “He’s… good to me.”

 Most of the time.

 “A very glowing review,” he says, every word drawn out in suspicion. “Not surprised though, I’d trust a politician as far as I can throw him.”

 You laugh. Steve is kinda strong, but Shangqi has mastered, like, every martial art under the sun. It wouldn’t even be a fair match. “You could throw him pretty far, I think.”

 “Not far enough.”

 You can’t finish your food with the funny feeling sloshing inside your gut. “He’s different, sometimes.”

 “Sometimes,” Shangqi repeats sadly. There’s the pity.

 “He won’t let me go to the funeral.”

 “Won’t let you?” Shangqi leans forward, his strong forearms bracing the table, the pale scars on his knuckles flexing.

 You hate this subtle macho display just like you hated Steve’s yelling. It’s not cute, this overprotectiveness, and you wish they would think to comfort you instead. “Most people don’t know, right?” you ask, deflecting. “That your dad was behind all that stuff. They've just heard of the Mandarin.”

 After a pause, he nods gravely, sitting back in his chair. “When it comes to Wenwu, most people just see a very rich and powerful man, with two kids who hated him.” His jaw ticks. “But most people doesn’t mean all people.”

 You wring your hands. “You’re right.”

 “I think your senator made the right call.” You catch the derogatory tone on Steve’s title, yet he doesn’t apply it to yours: “Future First Ladies of the United States shouldn’t be seen at a crime lord’s funeral, no matter how innocent it may seem.”

 You push your half-eaten pajeon toward him. “Yeah.”

 “I’m not voting for him though. Seems like an asshole.”

 A laugh, a real one. “That’s okay.”

 Win or lose, you don’t care. You just wanna get through this, whatever it takes.

 “Is this what you want, with him?”

 You blink. “Is it okay to say that I don’t know?”

 “You don’t have to ask if it’s okay.” Shangqi considers you for a long moment before picking at your food. “Whatever happens, you can always come home.”

— — —

masterlist

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)

brought absolute tears to my eyes

The Phone Call (5/?)

Pairings: collegehockeyplayer!steve rogers x female reader (Cappy x bug)

Warnings: idiots in like, banter, innuendos, teasing- lots of teasing, explicit language (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Cappy and bug: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

"Bug?" Cappy answered the call after the second ring, "you OK?"

"I won't take money from Mary" you exhaled, chewing at your thumbnail as you sat cross-legged in your bed. Your room was pitch black, save the light from your phone screen. You finally gave in and called Cappy after you had been tossing and turning for nearly an hour.

"...um... good?" Steve laughed, getting up from the living room couch and making his way towards the stairs.

"Cappy... where are you going? It's your turn" you heard a women's voice whining in the background.

"You're busy" you exhaled, rolling your eyes, "I shouldn't have called."

"No, bug! I'm glad you called" you could picture Cappy's warm smile, "that's... nothing. It's movie and game night and some friends of the guys came over."

"It's almost 2am..." you frowned.

"Yeah" Steve agreed, making his way up the steps to his room.

"On a Wednesday" you added.

"Yup" he confirmed.

"You do movie and game nights until 2am on Wednesdays?" you asked, "what about classes or practice?"

"The team has late start on Thursday's" Steve said, pushing his bedroom door open and finding Gretzky curled up on his bed. Steve crossed the room before sinking down gently next to the small sleeping cat.

"Everyone on the team?" you asked.

"Everyone on the team" he confirmed, smiling into his phone, "you could come sometime" he offered, "if you're really that worried about our sleep habits..."

"I wasn't..." you huffed before Steve cut you off.

"I'd definitely stay in bed if you tucked me in..." you could almost hear his eyebrows waggle while he mercilessly flirted.

"Meatball" you rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smirk at his ridiculousness.

"OK..." Steve shrugged, "But seriously" his laugh was warm before he cleared his throat, "you could come over for a movie night... the rest of the team would be here... not just me... it would be nice."

"No thanks" you said, shooting him down -too quickly- before thinking better of it, "but... it's not... I don't... I mean..." your exhale was heavy, struggling to find the words, "I don't hate you."

"Good to know" he laughed, "if you change your mind, next week's movie night is Gremlins."

"Gremlins?" you snorted, "that weird 80s movie with the gerbil things?"

"They’re called Mogwai" Steve corrected, laughing, "it's Storm's favorite movie from when he was a kid... I picked Goonies for mine..."

"Oh... well I guess that's kinda cool" you smirked.

There was a long beat, but it was a comfortable quiet.

"So... what's up, ladybug?" Steve finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I... couldn't sleep" you said, narrowing your brows as you faltered for only a second at the new term of endearment, "I know you're trying to be nice... but I won't take Mary's money..."

"You keep saying that" Steve's brows furrowed with confusion.

"Well... it's true..." you were determined.

"Bug... can ya help me out here?" Cappy quipped, "I know that beautiful brain of yours is a lot bigger than mine... but I'm not following."

You felt your cheeks heat as you ducked your face, resting your cheekbone on your knuckles and smiling so hard it made your face hurt.

"Oh... uh... yeah" you sputtered, "well, Frank said the team raised money for Mary last year. If the adoption drive is taking away from fundraising for Mary, I don't want to do it... I won't" you clarified.

"Is that it?" Steve's voice was warm, sighing with relief.

"Well... yeah" you said, "I couldn't sleep."

"You in bed, bug?" that peaked his interest.

"Yes" you said, rolling your eyes at his suggestive tone.

"Me too" he smirked, hooking an arm under his head as he leaned back on his pillow.

"If you ask me what I'm wearing... I'm gonna hang up on you" you threatened.

"The fundraiser won't be taking any money from the fund we have set up for Mary" Steve clarified, smirking at your empty threat.

"Good" you sighed, relief rolling through your body as you sank back into your bed, eyelids feeling heavier, "thank you..."

"No problem, sweetheart" Steve's bedroom voice had a low timbre to it that made you shiver, "I'll talk to you to..." he started.

"Did you remember the shirts?" you interrupted his goodbye.

"Yes, I remembered the shirts" he smiled, "but I got something tomorrow morning so I asked Sam if he could run them over to your place" Steve said.

"OK... I have a class at 10, but I'll be here before then" you confirmed.

"Yup, already told him he needs to be there at 9 to catch you before you leave" Steve said.

"How did you..." you started to ask, fighting back a yawn.

"Your itinerary" Steve smiled, "you added your schedule in case we needed you... I gave you mine too... on a post it in your new planner."

"I saw that" a small smile spread across your face, "along with your hockey schedule- dates and times of all your games... you even let me know when you'd be away."

"Well... I figured you'd want to know for when I ask you on a date" Steve's laugh made your heart flutter.

"Who said we're going on a date?" you goaded.

"Well... hopefully you" Steve laughed, "I've got a five step plan to win you over..."

"That's nice" you sighed, only half hearing him as you started to drift off.

"Night, bug" Steve murmured into the phone.

"Wait!" you rolled over on your side, not wanting to end the call just yet as you cradled the phone gently to your ear, "will you tell me something? Tell me something about Cappy that not many people know..."

"Like what?" he laughed.

"Something you don't use to impress" you smirked, chewing your bottom lip.

"Ummmm... l dunno... I hate peas" he laughed.

"Boo... everyone hates peas" your words were slightly slurred with sleep.

"You're cute" Steve's voice was so soft you almost missed it.

"You're cute" you shot back sleepily before your eyes snapped open, "I mean... I..."

"You think I'm cute" Steve teased.

"No" you chirped, "I was half asleep!"

"You think I'm cute... no take backs..." Steve continued taunting.

"I'm hanging up" you said, half-heartedly.

"No!" Steve laughed, "OK… OK… something no one knows about me? Um... I was a really sick kid... like really sick" he offered, "bad asthma and always had that croupy kinda cough. But my Ma's a nurse and took me to the best doctors around. They told her to try cold air in the winter when my croup got real bad. It's how I started skating when I was around 3... and then I got stronger and started hockey when I was a little older" Steve said.

"Wow... Mr beefcake meatball? A sickly kid? I would have never guessed" you teased affectionately.

"Yeah, hockey's made my lungs stronger. I still have exercise induced asthma but it only gets real bad if I gotta do shifts back-to-back" Steve said.

"You learned how to skate when you were 3?" you sounded a little shocked.

"Yup" Cappy shrugged.

"I don't know how to skate" you yawned.

"Well, we're gonna have to change that" Steve smiled.

"You wanna teach me how how to skate?" you snorted with laughter.

"Yeah" he shrugged, sitting up and leaning against the wall.

"I can't picture you teaching anyone how to skate" you laughed.

"Hey... I've helped out at mini mite camps back home" he said, "I'm gonna teach Mary too" he continued, "gonna get her her first pair of skates... and no figure skates, hockey skates."

"Can Mary even walk?" you smiled, your stomach doing a flip at how cute Steve was with Frank's niece.

"She's crawling and pulling up on the coffee table" Steve said, "she'll be ready soon."

"That’ll be cute" you smiled into the phone.

"You can come watch" Steve offered, "if you want... I can teach you both..."

"Frank wouldn't mind?" you asked.

"Not at all... Frank really likes you... he's never that... not cranky" Steve said with a laugh.

"He likes me?" you smirked, "maybe you could... give him my number..." you goaded.

"Really?" Cappy huffed, not sure if you were serious or not.

"Yeah... I mean he's really cute" you smirked, "and then there's Mary" you teased.

"But I introduced you to Mary!" Steve grumbled.

"You think Frank would teach me how to skate?" you were just being mean now.

"Really?" Cappy's voice went up an octave.

"No... you doofus! I'm messing with you" a fit of sleepy giggles followed before you added, "as much as I know I'll regret it... I kinda have my eye on another meatball" your heart was kicking against your ribcage.

"I knew it" Cappy sat up, pumping a fist into the air as he jumped up from his bed, scaring Gretzky in the process, and doing his go-to goal celly.

"Don't ruin it" you whined, rolling your eyes as you laughed at the image of him celebrating around his room.

"So... you wanna come over after the game this weekend?" his excitement with palpable.

"Won't Bonnie or any of your other adoring fans be disappointed?" you smirked.

"No" Steve shrugged sitting back down on his bed before his tone dropped serious, "I'm not seeing anyone. Frank wasn't lying... I haven't had a girl over since that night."

"Bully for you" you voice was dripping with sarcasm, "you know that's not really an accomplishment, right? Most people aren't bedding a new person every night..."

"Bedding a new person" Steve snorted.

"What?" you frowned.

"Nothing... I just like the way you talk..." he smiled, "you remind me of Frank."

"I remind you of your best friend?" you asked, "isn't that weird?"

"No" Steve shrugged, "I kinda like it."

"So... say I do come over... what will we do?" you asked, "I'm not showering with you..."

"Like just this weekend or ever?" Steve asked.

"What?" you squeaked.

"You'd never shower with me?" Steve smirked.

"What?... I... no" you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

"Never?" he pressed, "not even if you were my girlfriend?"

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?" you scoffed.

"I don't know..." Cappy said, "when was the last time you had a boyfriend?"

"About a year ago" you said, "he... it was long distance and just didn't work out. He said I didn't make enough time for him... that I wasn't a good girlfriend."

"Hmmm" Steve's tone didn't give much away.

"What?" you chirped, embarrassed at your lack-of-sleep induced overshare.

"I think you'd make a good girlfriend" he said it so matter-of-factly that it made your stomach flip.

"How would you even know?" you smiled bashfully, rubbing at your tired eyes with the back of your hand.

"Only one way to find out" Steve smirked.

"Oh... you're good" you scoffed, "gross... you’re too good at that" you cringed, "so that's how you do it?"

"Do what?" Steve asked.

"Get all the ladies?" you said, "you're using your meatball charms on me..."

"What? Meatball charms?" Steve snorted, "no...I'm... we were just talking..."

"So... how many has this worked on?" you smirked, "how many women are you just talking to at a time?" you asked out of curiosity.

"I mean... I don't know... do you want a list?" Steve asked with a nervous exhale.

"Is that how you keep track?" you asked, honestly.

"Geez, bug" Steve choked, "you really think I'm that bad?"

"What you do is on you... no judgment" you said.

"Bullshit" Steve shot back, "you've been judging me since we first met..."

"I have not" you chirped.

"Who gave me the charming Captain Meatball nickname that I just can’t seem to shake?" he smirked.

"I... oh, shit" you laughed, "you're right" you confessed with a heavy exhale, "well… if it makes you feel any better… I know now that there's more to you then just a meatball that sleeps with everyone in sight."

"Thank yo..." Steve started.

"A teeny-tiny bit more..." you interrupted him with a giggle.

"Whatever" he laughed, leaning back on his pillow and rolling his eyes playfully.

"I wouldn't normally mind... about who you're sleeping with" you pointed out, "the only reason I care is because..." you paused.

"Because?" you could hear the curiosity in his tone.

"Because I guess I kinda like you" you surrendered.

"That wasn't so hard" Steve laughed as you rolled your eyes, "you know I wasn't always like this..." he offered.

"Like what?" you asked.

"I had a girlfriend all freshman year and another one sophomore into the first part of junior year... and then after Frank left the team... I dunno... I just started hooking up with random girls..." Steve offered, honestly.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, "it must have been hard to watch your best friend go through that.. to lose him on the team."

"Nahh" Steve shrugged, "what he's had to deal with was so much worse... losing his sister, taking on Mary... his family's no help and he's not even sure when he'll finish school..." Steve's voice was strained with emotion and it made your chest tighten.

"I'm sorry, Steve..." you said, "we don't have to..."

"No... I'm glad it came up..." he cleared his throat, "I like talking to you, y/n."

"I like talking to you too, Steve" you smiled.

“Think that’s the first time you’ve used my real name” he smiled into the phone.

“It’s a nice name” you yawned, stretching your arms up over your head with a squeak.

"Oh, shit" Steve cursed, "it's real late... I'm sorry!"

"It's OK" you yawned again, "you don’t have to go…”

“I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart” his laugh was light and warm.

“I'll talk to you soon” you sighed.

"Oh and uh... I tweak the tshirt order a little, but I think you'll actually like it..." Steve said.

"Wait?" You shot up in your bed, "Steve what did you..."

"OK, sweet dreams, bug! Byyyeee" he rushed before the line went dead and the call ended.

"Damnit, Crappy!" you cursed, falling back on your pillow with a huff.

The hockey divider was made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️