Okay, But Seriously. When Was The Last Time The Fandom Went So Feral Over A Character? 😂

'til the morning comes (8/10)

steve rogers x f!reader (fluff and angst)

summary: he's not supposed to see you like this.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of drinking

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

(part 7) (part 9) (part 10) (series masterlist)

 You tilt your chin, dramatizing your wide, shimmery eyes. “It’s bad luck, Steve.”

 He gives you a small pout of his own. “Let me see.”

 You poke his boutonnière weakly. Your bracelets brush against the throw pillows that your loyal bridesmaids have haphazardly clasped over your chest. “Please go away?”

 Sersi frowns. “Why is he even here?”

 Steve ignores her, and the lighthearted smack Helen lays on his arm. “Honey, this isn’t fair. You see me wear tuxes all the time.”

 “Rogers.” Natasha adjusts her protective cushion and pins him with a deadly glare. “Get the fuck out.”

 Besides one lingering look he gave the full-length mirror, appreciating the back of your wedding dress, Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. “I didn’t think you cared about this stuff.” 

 You hug a pillow to your body, relieving Natasha and Sersi of their duties. “I don’t.”

 And why should Steve care either? Even if a groom seeing the bride too early means bad luck, your relationship doesn’t exactly resemble a conventional romance. You didn’t need luck, only a signed piece of paper, a hundred pictures, and the illusion of being a happily married, rock solid couple.

 Not that you weren’t happy, in your own way. 

 In his attempts to make things good for you, Steve doted on you almost to a fault, assembling your favorite dishes and insisting that you don’t lift a finger fixing or cleaning anything. He let you plan most of the wedding, a dangerous game given the large budget he offered and how you’ve dreamt about the day since you were little. You discussed your ideas once or twice when you were still with Shangqi, yet scarcely imagined much more than a modestly priced dress, fifty invitations, and casual catering. 

 But Steve said yes to everything. To test him, you once proposed something ridiculous: a tiara.

  You’d look nice in a tiara, sweetheart, he said absentmindedly, hunched over a report.

  It exhausts you to witness his devotion and to continually push against it, especially given the ten to twelve hour days he already spends working. The National Convention looms on the horizon, a dark cloud which has injected atmospheric pressure around this event for months. Because once Steve gets the nomination, he can’t step onto that national stage without a lovely wife by his side. 

 After a few dinner conversations, he promised to put away work at least two days prior to the wedding, and he appears visibly more relaxed now. But still. He should’ve asked, instead of casually waltzing inside your bridal suite, accompanied by Maria.

 “Then let me see.” He touches the corner of your pillow.

 You whimper. “I really like this dress, and if you say anything bad about it, I will divorce you.”

 “We’re not married yet.”

 “And we never will be,” you say, tugging his bowtie. He let you pick the color, and even bought socks to match. “Not even a twitch, okay?”

 He straightens his face, adopting his senator voice. “I promise.” 

 The pillow drops half an inch. Then, Helen’s palm connects with his bright white shirt and shoves. “Nope, as the maid of honor, I am intervening. You’re leaving, now.”

 Steve groans. “Cho.”

 “You heard her,” Natasha agrees flatly. Unlike Helen, her yanking actually knocks him off balance. “Let’s go.”

 He follows her dutifully, but not before throwing you a dopey smile. “Bye, honey.”

 “Bye, Steve.” Tucking your chin, you admire his wide shoulders, the crisply creased pants, and the flash of his green socks as he exits.

 Helen snaps her fingers three times in front of you. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking whipped.”

 You wrinkle your nose. “No, I’m not.”

 “You two are disgusting,” Sersi says, her inappropriately polite nod and English accent making you laugh. 

 You toss the pillow onto the chaise lounge. “Okay, well, I’m allowed to be whipped.” You smooth the front of your dress, ensuring no stray fibers got caught on your complicated bodice. “He’s gonna be my husband.” A new word to you, like fiancé once was.

 Mrs. Rogers. So bizarre. 

 “Speaking of husbands.” Sersi taps her keyboard, giggling to herself. “I think Dane is having a wardrobe crisis.” 

 You and Helen gather around her phone, bursting into laughter. Joaquín poses cheesily next to Dane’s gray slacks, which have split along the seam of his ass.

 Sersi swipes away Joaquín’s urgent texts. “He’s requesting a needle and thread, stat.” 

 Helen rotates, her skirt swishing prettily as she locates her bag. “I have some.”

 “We gotta go.” Sersi grabs both your hands, marveling at you. “I love you.”

 “I love you too.”

 Helen examines you seriously. “If Rogers comes back in here—”

 “Go,” you laugh.

 Which leaves… Maria.

 Who never seems to uncross her arms. “You look great.”

 You barely shrug; any sudden movement could send your hair toppling down. You silently thank Dane for taking the brunt of the wardrobe malfunctions today. “Thank you.” 

 You fidget nervously. The ceremony starts in almost half an hour. You’ve paced circles all day to soothe your anxiety, mostly looking forward to the reception. With a bit of patience, you’ll soon be surrounded by drinks and friends and food and a far more comfortable party outfit.

 Steve must feel the same. You wonder again why he couldn’t wait a little longer to see you.

 Maria, manager extraordinaire, is just as aware of the time as you. “Here.” She lifts the veil off the nearby vanity table, gesturing for you to crouch so she can affix it. “Are you nervous?”

 “Um, yeah.” Your traitorous eyes catch your reflection and, without warning, your thoughts swim with uncertainty. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

  “You’ve come a long way if all you care about is him liking your dress.” She chuckles. “He’ll love it.” 

 Maria forms a half-circle around you, correcting the train of your skirt. Honestly, you’ve never witnessed her so chilled out either. Maybe the campaign has affected her more than you realize. She must enjoy some sense of victory by attending this momentous wedding, the product of the blind date she arranged.

 “Maria.” 

 “Mmm.”

 “Why did you choose me?”

 Maria pockets her hands inside her jumpsuit. “Not to insult you, but…” She pauses. “You’re not the only one we asked.”

 You nod. “I know. He told me.”

 “He’s not very smart, that one,” she remarks dully.

 “Who were they?”

 Twisting your fingers together, you imagine the weight of an elaborate flower bouquet between them. Then the cold surface of another ring, a shiny and steadfast reminder of the promise you’ll soon make.

 Sometimes you still wonder what the hell you’re doing marrying Steve Rogers.

 “Two friends of mine,” she says carefully. “I was honestly just looking for people I could trust to keep a secret without forcing them to sign an NDA.” 

 You stare at her blankly.

 Maria clears her throat. “Darcy, and Hope.” 

 “Why did they say no?” 

 Maria blows a short stream of air, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, Darcy works for SWORD and already likes her government work.” She purses her lips. “Um, Hope owns a tech company with her dad.”

 A sensible answer, and a good sign that neither had anything against Steve personally. You should feel satisfied. Shut up, and go into the wedding certain that you’ve always been the best candidate for his partner. 

 And yet, these women’s personalities echo someone else equally independent and dedicated to her work. “Would you have asked Helen?”

 Maria holds your gaze, her tough love unwavering. “Yes. I was going to.”

 You let the diamond of your engagement ring catch your thumb, rotating it over and over.

 It seems like forever ago when you posted pictures online gushing about your new fiancé and proudly displaying your diamond. You and Steve fended off questions from friends and curious paparazzi alike, telling everyone that his proposal was intimate. That all-important question would remain concealed behind the walls of your shared home. 

 In reality, early on, you and Steve sat down with a laptop and he requested that you order whichever ring you wanted.

 You’re going to wear it. I want you to like it.

 He meant it well; he means everything well. But Steve was staying late at the office when the jewelry arrived inside ugly cardboard packaging. You ripped it open, slipped the thing on, and continued with your nighttime routine.

 How would Helen have reacted, in your shoes? You wonder if she would’ve stumbled into a brief but intense bout of crying the same way you had. 

 More likely, she would have overcome the feeling, like she overcomes most things. “Oh.”

 Maria responds gently. “I could tell Steve needed a break.”

 No shit, you think kindly, never knowing Steve for his laidback nature. “From what?” You scoff. “All the beautiful, powerful women?”

 At least, you imagine the others to be beautiful. Stunning, probably.

 A small crease forms in Maria’s perfectly smooth forehead. For the first time, she seems disappointed in you. “Steve has spent his entire life trying to live up to people’s expectations. Mostly his own.” Again, she busies herself with your veil, the silky fabric brushing the inside of your elbow. “He needed to get out of his head.”

 And look after some washed-up school teacher. “So me, floundering without a job—”

 "No,” she interjects. “He needs someone who sees him. Beyond his job, beyond what he can offer." 

 Doubt spins itself into a tight ball, lodging inside your throat. “You don’t sound like his campaign manager.”

 Because… why did you and Steve get together at all? It was a trade. A change in the trajectory of your life, in exchange for your presence in his. Helping boost his campaign. Your signature on the non-disclosure agreement as the cherry on top.

 “I’m a strategist, I’m not heartless.” Your eyes connect in the mirror. Hers are blue, as blue as Steve’s. “You make him happy.”

 Do you?

 You make him smile, sometimes. And laugh, when you force him to watch your favorite sitcoms instead of parking himself in front of the twenty-four hour news. Some invisible burden ascends off his shoulders when you compliment his cooking. A pink tinge rises in his cheeks whenever you tie his tie, or take his hand and hold him close. Months and months later, that still hasn’t dissipated.

 You have a crystal-clear picture in your head of how he would react to your dress: the open fondness in his eyes, his lips falling open for a second before curving into a smile.

 You’re so beautiful, he’d say. I’m so lucky. And he’d mean it.

 Maybe that could be enough. Maybe you could be enough.

 Your chest pinches sharply, your vision blurring at the edges, yet only when she hands you a tissue does it all spill over. “This might come as a surprise, but Steve was such a sad little shit before—” You toss your arms around Maria, laughing tearfully while she awkwardly pats your waist. 

 After a moment, your chiming phone brings you out of the embrace.

 “Told you,” she says, somewhat smug. Then, with tenderness: “Aren’t I the best manager ever?”

 You grin at the screen too. Sleep-deprived Steve. 

 She arranges your skirt again, then moves toward the exit. “I’ll see you out there.”

 It’s a video call. Grateful for waterproof makeup, you dab at your cheeks before answering. “This doesn’t count, right?” He’s grinning.

 “No, I don’t think it does.” You tilt your camera. Not the most flattering angle, but you avoid capturing the neckline of your dress. “Helen’s gone though, if you wanna see.”

 “I’ll wait for the big reveal.” The chaotic bustle inside his room obscures his words. You picture Dane in his boxers and Joaquín mending his pants while your friends snap photos and chat with Sam and Natasha. Steve turns from his phone briefly, situating himself elsewhere. The hallway, you’d guess, given the wallpaper and the significantly lower volume in the background. “I wanted to check in. How are you doing?”

 “I’m good.”

 "Yeah?”

 "Even though this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.“

 He chuckles. "Me too. And I’m running for President.”

 "It’s not a bad thing, though,” you reply. Luckily, you sit alone in the bridal suite. No one hears how soft and high your voice gets, talking to Steve. “How are you?”

 “Nervous. Excited.”

 You wanna kiss that nervous-excited smile off his face; he can’t seem to get rid of it. “What for?”

 “Seeing you,” he answers honestly.

 You bite your lips, a fruitless attempt to muffle your shy hum. “You saw me like, ten minutes ago.”

 Maybe at last you understand why he barged into your room. 

 You’d need to travel down half a dozen corridors, and add in a few left turns, and eventually you’d find him. Leaning against the wall, the screen illuminating his face. Easy in theory. Yet, the journey seems to drag on for miles. He’s too far from you, from where you want him. Right here, right now.

 You check the time. Ten more minutes, then all you have to do is walk down the aisle.

 He’ll be yours.

 Steve softens. “I like seeing you, sweetheart.”

— — —

masterlist

MCU cast incorrect |87|

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 ❤️

Yenzy’s ~Fucking~ Shirt (3/?)

(Edit was made by @nixakimbo)

Pairings: collegehockeygoalie!jake jensen x female reader (Yenzy x y/n)

Warnings: idiots in like, friends to lovers, slow burn, excessive legal age drinking, possible poor decision making when drunk, nakedness, banter- all the banter, reader coming on to Yenzy, Yenzy being a lovable dork, explicit language, explicit sexual content implied, all the tooth rotting cuteness (must be 18+)

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: I love him, your honor 🥹

not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Yenzy x y/n

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

You shivered, groaning when you felt the floor creaking as someone walked towards you down the hall.

Yenzy sighed, running his hands down his face and frowning as he stood barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants that hung long on his hips. The obstacle in his direct path to the bathroom another passed out coed.

"Jesus... Cap" Yenzy grumbled, rolling his eyes as he bent down, trying to stretch the sweatshirt over your shivering body, before noticing his name scrawled in cursive across the chest.

"Y/N?" he asked, gently lifting your arm from your face, "what are you doing out here?"

"Yenzy?" you croaked, throat dry from a night of drinking, "why are you in my room? I'm really cold" you whined.

"Come here" Yenzy said, helping you to your feet as he walked you back to his room, "why were you on the floor in the hallway?" he asked, helping you to his bed as you felt him tug your heels from your feet. They fell to the floor with a soft thunk.

"I..." you started, sleepy gaze trailing him across the room, shielding your eyes with a groan when he flipped on his desk lamp with no warning.

"Fuck... I'm at the barn" you remembered, "all those bitches ditched me and I didn't want to walk home by myself... but the couches downstairs were taken... I was gonna take Cappy's bed... but then he came home with Nikki or Nicole... and kicked me out" you breathed out an exhale, squinting while watching appreciatively as a bare chested Yenzy rummaging around his dresser.

"I should go home" you closed your eyes with a groan as the room began to spin a little.

"You're not going anywhere" he snorted, kneeling down in front of you and placing a neatly folded t-shirt and sweatpants in your lap, "you coulda called me... you know" he smiled softly up at you, "what are special friends for?" he smirked with a shy laugh.

You slit one eyes open to look down at him, groaning when he flashed you the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

"Special friends are for making out... and seeing naked..." you smirked, taking the hem of your dress and lifting it up over your head. You reached around to unhook your bra, but Yenzy stopped you before you could figure out the clasp.

"Y/N..." he warned, lifting the shirt he grabbed you from his dresser and bringing it down gently over your head, helping you dress.

You rolled your eyes but fed your arms through the sleeves as you glared down at him.

"Why are you always putting clothes on me instead of taking them off?" you questioned.

"Because... that's what friends do..." he smiled, standing up and pulling his comforter away as he arranged the bed.

"I don't want your shirt... friend" you began tugging it up over your head, your protests dying out when you realized it smelled like him.

"Come on...” he laughed, “I gave you my best shirt... that one's really soft... I like to wear it when I... fuuuuuck" Yenzy cursed when he turned around to find you pulling the shirt off, your nipples on full display through your sheer bra.

"You wear it when you fuck?" you started giggling uncontrollably, not even fighting him when he yanked the shirt back into place, "like every time you fuck?” you snorted, “will you wear it now?"

Yenzy rolled his eyes before giving in to your contagious giggles, fisting the pink shirt and yanking it to him to capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

You sighed into his warm lips, carding your fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck. Yenzy groaned when you licked into his mouth, releasing his hold on your shirt and gently taking your wrists in his large hands.

"No, I won’t be wearing it now…” Yenzy laughed against your lips, breaking the kiss to get back to rearranging his bed.

"So we're gonna fuck in your... flower shirt?" you goaded, looking down at the pink t-shirt with Go Petunia’s scrawled across the front.

"Nope" his smile was so soft and sweet that it made your belly flutter despite his rejection.

"Yenzy... do you even like me?" you asked, watching him make a pillow wall through the middle of his bed.

"Yes" he snorted like it was the dumbest question ever, "I like you..."

"No... I mean... I didn't want to leave for the bars tonight -like you-…” you confessed, "and here you are making a pillow fort so we can sleep platonically in the same bed..."

"Then why did you?" he asked, looking up from his bed, genuinely curious, "leave, I mean?"

"Cause I'm not sure if you like me..." you emphasized again, watching him cross the room to the mini fridge next to his desk.

Jake grabbed a bottled water before opening his desk drawer to fish around for something. He returned to the bed handing you the water before popping the lid off a pain pill bottle.

"Here" he said, offering you two tablets as you opened the water, "for your head..."

"Thanks" you murmured, taking the pills will a sip of water.

"You're a sweet girl" he said, watching you drink and you almost choked on your water before swallowing with a shake of your head.

"I'm not sweet" you corrected him.

"Well... I think you're sweet... and I consider you a friend" he smiled, helping you climb into his bed. Jake continued to tuck you in, pulling the oversized pink t-shirt down over your thighs before lifting the comforter up to your chin. You watched him move around to the other side of the bed before he climbed in, sighing as he got comfortable.

"Just a friend?" you asked, propping your head in your hand as you rested on your elbow to look at him over the fort.

"I guess..." he said, rolling over to face you.

"And if I wanted more?" you probed, chewing your bottom lip, your stomach doing a flip.

"It's your senior year, y/n" Yenzy reminded you.

"So?" you frowned, not needing the reminder that you have no clue what you would be doing after graduation.

"I got a whole 'nother year” he said.

"Jesus, Yenzy" you snorted, "I'm not proposing..." you teased.

"Go to bed, y/n" Yenzy laughed, rolling his eyes as he laid back down on his pillow, "I gotta get up soon..."

You watched him for a long silent minute, feeling your face flush with embarrassment as you recalled that night.

"I know why you don't like me" you said, rolling back over on your pillow and staring up at his ceiling.

"What?" he murmured, halfway to sleep.

"It's because of that night..." you continued, ignoring that he was half asleep, "we were both so stupid drunk and you thought it sucked... and now..."

"Well... to be fair... you did suck" Yenzy's voice was thick with sleep, it was quiet for a beat before you both burst into laughter.

"Can I keep your fucking shirt?" you sighed, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"Why would you want to keep that shirt?" he asked, rolling over and pulling the pillow wall down so he could see you properly.

"So you can't wear your fucking shirt with any other girls..." you smirked, stifling a yawn with the back of your hand.

"There isn't any other girls" Yenzy snorted as you tossed the pillows away and moved closer to him, making yourself comfortable against his bare chest.

"There could be one girl..." you whispered as he wrapped his arm around you, softly running his  knuckles up and down your back. Yenzy turned into you, humming when his pressed his lips to your crown.

"You know I don't wear that shirt when I'm having sex right?" he asked as you giggled against his chest, sighing into a peaceful sleep while you cuddled with the cutest and most infuriating boy on the hockey team.

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 ❤️

Chris Evans on “Lightyear”, Anxiety, & The MCU 🧑‍🚀 MTV News

This is Josh interview.... we are just missing one ..the puppy one

Omg, batmom verse is literally my favorite, I'm actually so happy it gets a reboot, I'm sure it will be just as good as a reboot of arranged verse. Thank you for your writings, I love them very much! 🩷 (english isn't my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes in text!)

Here goes

"Run."

Your voice is hoarse. It hurts. But there's only one play left in your playbook. And it's to put yourself in the way.

It works.

It usually almost kills you but it works.

Thankfully the kid is too scared to do anything but run. Streaking into the dark. His stupid yellow cape streaming out behind him like a goddamn signal flare.

Fucking capes. Fucking embarrassing. Impractical. Stupid.

You haul yourself to your feet using the wall. Ignoring the black at the edges of your vision. Jamming your fist against the hole in your side as you pull the gun from the inside pocket of your jacket.

It's a full metal jacket and there's racks of metal industrial racks. If you're going down, this son of a bitch down with you. The world will be a safer place with one less of your targets in it.

That's all there is to it.

brought absolute tears to my eyes

A Tale of Two T-Shirts (6/?)

Pairings: Collegehockeyplayer!Steve rogers x female reader (Cappy x bug)

Warnings: Cappy being a doofus, frustration, explicit language, talk of violence/threats of violence (female towards male) but no violence actually occurs, banter- lots of banter, idiots in like, slight manipulative behavior (must be 18+)

Work Count: ~2.2K

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

Cappy and bug: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

The intercom at your campus apartment buzzed, signally Sam was here- right on time. You walked over to your front door, buzzing him in before returning to your bathroom, toothbrush still in your mouth.

After getting a late start to your day, thanks to a restless night's sleep, you had just finished brushing your teeth- putting your toothbrush away and turning off the water. Walking back down the hall, you heard Sam knock at the front door before a loud thud and string of curses followed.

When you unlocked the door, pulling it open, you couldn’t help but laugh. There Sam was stuffing shirts back into an oversized box in a hurry.

"Hey, Sam" you greeted, forcing a smile even though your nerves were a little fried.

"Hey, y/n... I'm uh... sorry" he flashed you a nervous smile from where he knelt on the floor.

"About this or about Captain Meatball?" you teased, bending down to grab the last few tshirts before tossing then into the box.

"Thanks" he looked up at you, "so where do you want these? I still got a couple more boxes in my car… do you need them all now?”

"Oh... come on in" you said, standing and stepping out of his way while holding the door open, "the table is fine" you said, ushering him into your small two bedroom apartment, “and I can ask my roommate to help when you leave- we’ll come out and each grab a box…”

"OK” Sam nodded and then his face fell serious, “so....um... about the shirts..." he started, placing the box on the table and avoiding eye contact.

"Sam... I swear to god... I'm going to strangle him..." you grumbled, grabbing a tshirt from the pile and holding it up for inspection.

It didn't look any different, the pretty impressive Pucks for Paws design Cappy had sketched with several dogs and cats was on the front- just as you submitted. You turned the shirt over finding a crisp number 17 with Storm scrawled across the top. The bottom of the shirt had the information for the adoption drive- same design you had submitted to the printing shop.

"I don't get it?" you asked, looking up at Sam, "it's the same..." you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Not all of them" Sam grimaced. You could tell he was uncomfortable- waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Sam... I don't have time for this..." you huffed, grabbing a handful of shirts and turning them over, "will you just tell me what that asshat did?"

"He changed the quantity of shirts ordered per jersey number... got rid of all the number 7's" Sam blew out a heavy exhale, shaking his head as he shrugged his backpack off and unzipped it.

"What?" you squeaked, "why would he do that?" your voice had gone all shrill, "he knows his jersey is a best seller, right?" you were starting to panic as you riffled through the shirts, "he has to know..."

Sure enough, out of the hundreds of shirts ordered, not one was a number 7. All his other teammates were accounted for- including the underclassman.

“Well… they’ve gotta be in the other boxes” you rationalized.

Sam just shook his head apologetically without saying a word.

"He did have one number 7 made..." Sam offered, pulling the shirt from the bag and handing it to you.

"How is one shirt going to help?" you were fuming as you took it from Sam, "are we auctioning it off to the highest bidder? He's such a narcissist..." you rolled your eyes with a snarl.

"Well... it's not for sale" Sam said, "it's... uh... for you..."

"For me?" you scowled in confusion, trying to make sense of all of this until your phone vibrated to life in your back pocket. You continued grumbling under-your-breath as you fished it out of your pants, scoffing before you answered it.

"You better have a good explanation for this, Steven" you growled, holding the video call up so he could see the box of shirts, "why would you pull all your shirts from printing when you know everyone's gonna want your number?"

Cappy smirked at the use of his full name- he had never heard you call him Steven before now.

Sam busied himself by digging around in his backpack again.

"Bug... did Wilson give you the other shirt?" Cappy asked.

"What other shirt?" you huffed, looking up at Sam as he presented you with another folded shirt.

You took a deep breath before snatching it from Sam's outstretched hand, scowling at him as he backed away slowly with his hands in the air. You knew it wasn't Sam's doing, but you really felt like shooting the messenger right about now.

"What is this, Cap?" your tone was a little more whiny then you were going for, but you were frustrated and tired, just wanting this to go off without a hitch.

"Read it" Cappy instructed, smirking.

"What?" you snapped, not understanding how any of this was even remotely funny.

"Have any plans tonight, bug?" he asked so nonchalantly it made another wave of fury course through your veins.

You didn't even answer him, just shot him a glare that should have melted your phone screen.

"There's a thing at the barn, my house... tonight before the game tomorrow..." Cappy continued as you ignored him, propping your phone against the box and holding up the shirt.

You let out a dry huff that almost resembled a laugh. OK... this wasn't half bad- but how exactly was this shirt going to help the adoption drive?

"Team Cappy" you read, the screen printed words were crossed out and underneath it in bold text read "Team literally anyone else" holding the shirt up as you smirked.

It was silent for a moment before you spoke again. Steve looked nervous on the other end of the call.

"I don't hate it... but I'm still not following your game plan, Cap" you scowled down at his pretty face on your phone screen.

"Turn it over..." Cappy said, flashing you his boyish grin that made you want to slug him.

"Resistant to Meatball Charms" you snorted a laugh, reading off the text on the back of the shirt. The bottom of the shirt was, thankfully, the same as the others with the info for the adoption drive. You blew out a frustrated exhale, annoyed that this was working- yet again.

"Why don't you try it on... I'll watch... I mean wait" he winked.

"Steve..." you whined, "this isn't a game... those animals are depending on this... on me... I can't let them down."

"Bug... you won't" he insisted as a hiccuped escaped your lips, eyes prickling with tears.

"Shit..." Steve's voice cracked, "are you crying?"

"No" you frowned, but a few more angry tears fell as you tried to sniffle them back.

"Bug… baby... I'm sorry!" Steve sounded genuinely concerned, "shit... I swear I was just trying to be sweet..."

"By messing with the order?" your voice was watery as you scoffed.

"No!" his voice was determined, but you were so frustrated and didn't want him to see you cry- opting to end the call instead.

"Stupid, stupid, pretty... stupid... dumb boy" you huffed, marching into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. But you nearly ran into Sam who had escaped to the kitchen to give your heated conversation some privacy.

"Sorry, Sam" you sniffled, walking to the cabinet to take a glass and fill it from the faucet.

Sam stood motionless, not really sure what he should do or say. He had a feeling Cappy's bonehead plan would backfire.

"He's just so stupid... ya know?" you sighed, after taking a sip of your water. You wiped away a stray tear with the back of your hand, eye lashes wet with your emotion.

"Tell me about it" Sam agreed with a chuckle, “there’s still time to figure this t-shirt thing out… I can…”

"Hey, y/n" your roommate called, from down the hall, "you OK?" she squeaked when she saw Sam standing next to you, her eyes going wide as she looked down at her bright pink pjs with cupcakes all over them and matching fluffy slippers.

"Yeah... I'm fine... just stupid Captain Meatball" you huffed as your roommate's gaze flicked back to Sam.

"Not Captain Meatball" Sam thumbed his chest in clarification, "I'm Sam" he gave your roommate a soft smile, "hi, there, cupcake" Sam's timbre was molasses on a hot summer day as he offered his outstretched hand to your roommate.

Your roommate froze, looking down at his hand without saying a word before turning in her fluffy slippers and practically scampering back to her room.

"What the hell was that?" you eyed him up.

"That..." Sam smirked, "was cute lunch lady" he said, craning his neck to look down the hall towards your roommate's bedroom.

"Her name's your roommate's name" you corrected, "and she's single, ya know..." taking another sip of water as you leaned against the counter.

"That so?" Sam smirked, "she works in the caf…and she doesn't charge me extra for my breakfast burritos... I always ask for double the filling after morning practice and she never charges me..."

"How romantic" you teased, pushing off the counter and walking back out to the table where the box of shirts sat.

"An' she always gives me more sweet potato breakfast tots then the other guys..." Sam continued, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Definitely a story for the grandkids..." you continued teasing when a knock sounded at your apartment door.

"Can I get her number?" Sam asked, his gaze following you to the door.

"No way!" you snorted with a laugh, "you want her number you gotta ask her... and don't call her cute lunch lady when you do it..." you said opening the front door- you smile immediately turning to a frown.

You turned around without saying a word, leaving the door open when you walked back into your apartment.

"Bug... lemme explain..." Steve said, rushing in and closing the door behind him.

"And that's my cue..." Sam said, nodding at Cappy and grabbing his bag to leave. He gave you a quick wave before exiting your apartment in a hurry.

"Bug..." Cappy started again when Sam had left, walking over to stand across from you at the table, “I…”

“Screwed up my order… who knows why… and sent Sam to do your dirty work?” you huffed.

“No!” Cappy started again.

“Then why?” you raised your voice, nearly yelling, “why would you do this to me?”

“Bug… I got rid of all the number 7 jerseys because I want you to be the only one to wear my number from now on...” Cappy blurted as his cheeks flushed pink, “I thought I was bein’ sweet... a grand gesture or something... but I think I just fucked it all up” he harrumphed, squirming on the spot.

It was the first time you've ever seen him anything but cool, collected and cocky- noting the sweat beading at his forehead.

Your chest tightened and your stomach did a flip. He did this for you?

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and forced your face to remain stoic. In your stubbornness, you refused to give away any emotion as you pursed your lips together.

"I had my number made on one shirt..." he continued, "just for you... if you want... or if you're still unsure... you can wear the other one... they both have all the Pucks for Paws information on the back" he exhaled, sinking into a chair before he grabbed his water bottle from his backpack and chugged it.

"Did you run here?" you asked, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite him.

"Yes" he grunted, finishing off his water. Cappy sat silent, watching you and waiting for any indication as to how you were feeling- if you were planning on strangling him or if the next step in his plan was working.

You sat quietly glaring at him, arms crossed as you chewed your bottom lip in contemplation.

"Well, actually... I lied..." he added, unzipping his bag and pulling out a small bundle of fabric, "I did have this one made for Mary" he held up a tiny shirt with the Pucks for Paws design and you couldn't help but swoon when he flipped it over to reveal his name and number 7 on the back of the baby sized shirt.

"Damnit" you frowned at him, your arms still tightly crossed at your chest, "you're such an ass."

"So you're going for option 2 then?" he smirked, "you know you won't match Mary if you do..." he goaded, leaning back in his chair with a soft smile.

"I'm going to kill you if this doesn't work" you huffed, fighting the tug at the corner of your mouth as you pictured you and Mary wearing matching Rogers jerseys.

"I figured" Steve smiled, laughing when you balled your shirt up, throwing it in his stupid pretty face.

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 ❤️