Reblog If You’re Over 20 And Still Read/write fan Fiction.

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)

No one can compare to you.

SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021)

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 ❤️

#Thunderbolts

gimme an M, gimme a U (4/?)

Pairings: Yenzy (Jensen) x itty bitty (platonic) and Hockeyplayer!Ari Levinson x female reader (Levs x itty bitty)

Warnings: explicit language, physical violence- minor and not in detail (male towards male) excessive legal age drinking, heartache, angst, idiots in love and ruining it, bonehead Levs, MU team, itty bitty acting out of character, explicit sexual content implied- possibly a little dub con-ish depending on how you look at it, size kink- itty bitty is short and it’s making all the boys feral (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2.6K

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

I know she’s not here anymore but a thank you to my sweet friend Siri for reading though this and spitballing ideas with me ❤️

Levs (Ari) x itty bitty: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

So, just because there’s been some buzz around this part in particular- could I ask that you kindly put any spoiler comments/reblogs under a cut, please? 🙏❤️ Thank you for all your support! I appreciate all of you so much!

"He's freaking out, y/n... can you at least let him know you're OK?" Yenzy sighed, tapping the pencil on his notebook as he swiveled in his desk chair. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his tired eyes before replacing them.

It had been nearly a week since you left Ari at the arena and ever since the boys won, Ari had been calling you non-stop. Your mailbox was full and he had even accosted your roommate, drunk and begging for your whereabouts.

You had left- not even telling your roommate where you planned on going. You didn't have a plan. You just needed a place where he wouldn't find you. And he would never think to look for you... here.

"How 'bout an I'm OK, now fuck off text?" Yenzy smirked.

"No" you snorted stubbornly, "he can eat shit" you double hiccuped and then giggled.

Yenzy heard a muffled male voice in the background of wherever you were, you pulled the phone away and held it to your chest as you spoke to the unidentified male, Yenzy only hearing bits and pieces of a garbled conversation.

"Hey, bit..." Yenzy called into the phone.

"You're dumb... it's not a catchphrase..." you scoffed, bringing the phone back to your ear, "anyone can say that..." you said, addressing the male voice.

"Bitty..." Jake tried again, louder this time.

"Yuck..." your hiccuped was a squeak, "don't call me that... I hate it... I hate that stupid nickname... who cares if I'm short? He's a big dumb giant" you harrumphed.

"How much have you had to drink?" Yenzy asked, concern laced his tone.

"Dunno" you sighed into the phone with a shrug, "but I need a refill..." you sang out to no one in particular.

"Are you at least being safe?" Yenzy asked with a heavy exhale, "where are you?"

"I'm fine" you assured, "I just need to not feel for awhile, Yenz" you dropped your voice so only Yenzy could hear you, "and I'm not telling you... cause then you'll tell him and he'll come find me... and I'm not... ready" your voice was growing watery again as you thoughts drifted back to Ari.

You couldn't think of him for too long- you wouldn't let yourself- or it would start the spiral of devastation all over again. He had been your everything for the past two years and you were his... nothing.

Why did it take you so damn long to realize that? You felt like a joke.

You were nothing but a good time for him. A stop  in between his revolving door of partners. Maybe he had been sleeping with others all along- even when he said he was waiting to score with you.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Clearing your throat as you wiped the tears with the back of your borrowed sweater.

"Y/N..." Yenzy blew out another exhale -completely over being in the middle of all of this- he had clearly been trying to get your attention as you were lost in thought, "just be careful, please? And call me if you need anything... I won't tell him if you don't want me..." but Jensen's words were cut short when there was a loud commotion on his end of the phone.

"What the hell?" Yenzy huffed when his bedroom door flung open with a force that rattled the house.

"Is that bit? Where is she? Gimme the phone" Levs' demanded as he rushed across the room.

Ari looked disheveled; bloodshot eyes, hair tossled from racking his hands through it one too many times and he smelled like booze.

"Levs... she doesn't want to tal..." Yenzy started before Levs yanked the phone from the goalie's hand.

"Bit?" Levs tried to keep his voice even but it trembled. The line was dead.

"Fuck" Levs yelled, nearly cracking Yenzy's phone when he closed his fist around it with a snarl. His face flushed pink as he seethed down at his teammate.

"Why didn't you tell me she was talking to you?" Levs barked, "I've been trying to get a hold of her for days..."

"Jesus, man... get a grip" Yenzy said, standing and maneuvering around Levs as he tried to leave his room, "she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Get a grip?" Levs spun around, "she's my... my..."

"Your what, man?" Yenzy goaded, "you're a mess 'cause she left and you still can't fucking admit what she is to you..."

"Fuck you, Jensen" Levs growled.

"That's it... keep deflecting..." Yenzy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"SHE'S MY FUCKING EVERYTHING" Levs yelled in a drunken rage as he threw Yenzy's phone to the floor.

Yenzy's jaw ticked, his fists clenched at his sides- he moved to pick his phone up, but Ari took an aggressive step towards the goalie, boxing him in against his bookcase.

"Then why don't you fucking tell her that?" Yenzy shot back, matching Levs' volume but not his bite.

"Watch it" Levs' anger was barely contained, boiling just under the surface.

"You've been stringing y/n along for how many years now?" Yenzy asked, "she's gone, pal..."

"I'm not your fucking pal" Levs loomed over Jensen with about 4 extra inches.

"She's too good for you" Jensen scoffed under his breath, standing his ground.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Levs growled.

"You heard me" Yenzy said, glaring at the brute.

Cappy, Sam and some of the other boys had made their way to the bedroom hallway from downstairs after hearing the yelling.

"She's too good for me, 'cause what?" Levs snorted harshly, "you wanna fuck her, Yenzy?"

"You're drunk" Yenzy glared at him.

"And you wanna fuck my girl" Levs countered.

"No... y/n and I are just friends... became friends the last time you were a massive dick to her in fact" Yenzy said, bluntly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Levs snarled.

"When you went home for the summer and hooked up with an ex..." Yenzy continued, "y/n found out... she saw it all... some video on TikTok or something."

"What?" Levs asked, "how? She never told me that..."

"Because she was humiliated..." Yenzy scoffed, "she had just told you she had feelings for you and you go and fuck some other girl?"

"I never fucked her..." Levs growled, taking Yenzy's shirt in his fists and yanking him close.

"Hey" Cappy yelled, getting in Levs' face, "walk it off, Levs" he said as Sam and Johnny rushed in, each grabbing a shoulder of the Canadian powerhouse.

Levs easily shook off his teammates' holds, glowering down at his goalie just as Yenzy's phone buzzed to life. Levs glared at Jensen, shoving him one last time before letting go of his rumbled t-shirt.

"If this is fucking broken..." Yenzy threatened as he bent down, picking up the phone and answering it when he saw your picture flash across the screen.

"Yenzy, is he still there?" you asked, your voice was steady, but inside you were trembling.

"Yes" Yenzy snarled, glaring at Levs who had backed off but still looked menacing in his current state of beast mode.

"Give him the phone" you instructed.

"You sure?" Yenzy asked.

"Please, Jake..." you blew out a heavy exhale.

Jensen sighed, reluctantly offering Levs the phone as he shook his head, throwing his hands in the air as if he were washing himself clean of the whole damn thing. Yenzy turned, storming out of his bedroom with a curse.

"Bit?" Levs asked, turning his back on his teammates as they also decided to leave the room.

"Stop calling me" you snapped.

"What? Bit, please..." Ari's voice was pained as he paced the small space, "I'm so sorry... I..."

"And leave my roommate and Yenzy alone. I'm not even at my place and I'm not coming back... They don't have anything to do with this..." you continued, ignoring his pleas.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"That's none of your concern anymore" you said.

"Bit... I scored... I scored" he slurred, "just come home, baby... please?" Ari begged, his voice watery now. You could tell he was drunk.

"Oh, that's great" your sarcasm was thick, "have fun with Kimmie..."

"What?" he snorted, "no, bit... it's you... it's only you... I scored for you..." Ari paused his pacing to emphasize every word.

"I don't care" you spat, "none of it matters... it never mattered, Levs..."

"Bit... don't say that..." but Ari's words were choked off with emotion, "don't do this to us, baby..."

"You did this... you did this to us" your tone was surprisingly calm, "you fucking did this to us... I was right there the whole fucking time and it never mattered."

"That's not true, bit" Ari's voice cracked again as he fought back the tears.

"Stop fucking calling me bit" you screamed into the phone, "I'm not your bit... I'm not your fucking anything..."

The phone went dead as Levs sank down on Yenzy's bed with a sob.

You stared at the phone for a long minute, eyes prickling with tears. The sound of someone clearing their throat startled you back to the present.

"Good girl" Ransom goaded, walking back into his bedroom and handing you an imported beer. You'd been getting drunk off this fancy shit ever since you showed up on his doorstep that night.

"Shut up" you whined, "I don't even know why we’re doing this... he's never gonna care..." you wiped a tear with the back of your hand.

"A guy like Levinson? Thinking he missed out on that tight little snatch? He's gonna fucking care" Ransom hissed, tossing you a jersey as he sat opposite you in his expensive oversized Italian leather chair.

"You're gross" you cringed, "why did I get drunk and tell you everything?"

"Cause I'm a good listener" Ransom snorted, not even believing himself.

"Are you just being nice to me so you can get in my pants?" you wondered out loud.

"Think that's been pretty clear from the start, little bitty kitty..." Ransom smirked.

"Ew! Don't call me that" you hiccuped.

"Why?" Ransom's eyes twinkled with delight, "she's obviously little, Ransom leaned forward, taking handful's of your soft curves and yanking you to the edge of his bed. You gasped, almost spilling your beer before squirming out of his hold as he frowned. Ransom leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated eye roll.

Trying to ignore the tension building in the room, you set the beer bottle on his bedside table and grabbed the jersey he had thrown at you.

"I'm not wearing this..." you frowned, holding up Ransom's MU knit. Even their jersey's were menacing.

"Sure you are... to the game with those assholes and Coach Barber" Ransom hummed, before standing up again and grabbing his giant hockey duffle from his bedroom floor, "Levinson will go balistic... and you want him off your back, right?"

You blew out a heavy sigh, but remained silent.

"Y/N... I'm not running a fucking bed-and-breakfast here..." Ransom narrowed his eyes at you, "and I'm not a nice guy... figure your shit out with that goon or wear the jersey..."

"It's not that easy, Ransom... I..." you started, but Ransom cut you off.

"Look... I don't give a shit what you do... but after we win tonight, I'm fucking whatever cunt ends up in my bed - even if that's your pretty little kitty... bet you're so fucking tight... and that it's been way too long... you're just begging to be stretched by a fat cock, huh?" his eyes darkened, staring at you hungrily.

You chirped, opening your mouth to protest, but your throat had gone completely dry.

"Wear it" he pressed, a satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he turned on the spot, leaving his room without another word.

A bad feeling sat heavy in your gut as you watched him go. Following through with some half-baked plan that you schemed up while drunk with Ransom last night- now suddenly sounded like the worst idea ever.

You stood, holding up Ransom’s jersey before deciding better of it and draping it over the back of his leather chair. You quickly tugged his sweater over your head and proceeded to hang it neatly next to his MU away uniform.

You left Ransom's room, in a pair jeans and a tank top, making your way through the house- on a mission.

It wasn’t long before you found another jersey, hanging from a rack near the kitchen. Taking that one off the hook, you held it up, admiring the quality red white and blue stiching. Your fingers traced the "Tucker" across the back. Lance boasting, just last night, that he was the only one from MU that had ever been invited to play for Team USA at the Olympics. They took gold that year- Lance had the tattoo to prove it.

You shook your head, hanging the jersey back up on its hook. That one wasn't going to cut it either.

Making your way through the kitchen to the other side of the house you stopped right outside his room. You felt like a modern day Goldilocks, not necessarily in looks, but in determination to find a jersey that was just right.

In a moment of panic, you faltered. Could you really be this mean? Did you want to be this mean? Levs had hurt you. Shattered your heart into a million pieces and you were ready for him to feel some of that heartache.

As you stood there, agonizing over everything that had happened in the last two years to lead up to this moment, the bedroom door in front of you swung open.

"Why hello there, dewdrop" his unconventional choice in facial hair made him look at least 5 years older than all the other players on MU as he glanced down at you with, mischief in his eyes,  "what can I do for you?"

His words and tone were deceivingly sweet, but you knew he was anything but kind. And he was exactly what you needed to get Ari off your back.

"You mind if I borrow your away jersey tonight?" you chirped before you lost your nerve.

"Thought you'd be wearing Drysdale's'?" his lip curled into a sickening sneer. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but he made your skin crawl.

"No" you said, crossing your arms over your chest as his gaze bore through your thin cotton tank top until you felt exposed.

"An' what do I get in return?" he smirked, leaning in his doorway, his larger than life frame taking up as much space as possible. Could he possibly be taller than Levs?

"I... um..." nervous laughter bubbled up your throat as your arms fell to your sides.

"Don't worry, sweetheart..." he smirked, smoothing his hand over his facial hair, "sure we can work something out..." he turned, disappearing into his room and returning a few seconds later with a dark MU jersey.

He licked his lips before extending the jersey to you, but instead of letting it go when you took it, he yanked you forward, crashing you into his hard chest with a growl as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist.

"Been dying to get a taste of that sweet nectar, dewdrop..." he whispered hot in your ear, "gotta see if that tight little honeypot lives up to all the hype... I got a feeling both holes are just achin’ to be stuffed."

All you could do was whine as you braced your hands against his broad chest. He let you and the jersey go with a snicker, humming to himself as he left you there alone, his jersey in hand.

You stood, frozen on the spot, until you knew he was gone, leaving for the MU arena to get ready for the game tonight. You blow out an exhale, holding the jersey up to read the big block lettering across the back.

"Hansen" you said aloud to yourself. A shiver snaking up your spine. This was a very bad idea.

A/N: so I’m going to post this and run 🫣 I don’t want to know if you hate it 😓🤐

The hockey divider is 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 ❤️

Reblog if you will forever miss this majestic look

love is a game by adele - for the song drabble!

Moving On

Word Count: 530

Warnings: None, some angst.

Frank x Female Reader / Special Guest

The sun shines through the blinds, casting a warmth that this apartment hasn’t seen in months. You know it’s time to go, your tears no longer worth shedding over a man who won’t commit, let alone communicate. There’s a weight off your shoulders that feels oddly freeing. You thought that you would sadder than this, to leave this place that you once called a home with a man who you thought would want to see this through.

Life has a weird way of making you realize that what you thought you wanted at a point in your life is now a lesson, one that hurt, that challenged you, broke you and ultimately left you being reintroduced to part of yourself that you thought you had lost. She was always there, just hiding in the misery that Frank had managed to pile on during your relationship. What could be said for the boxes that line the hallways? The dishes that you bought, the coffee cups carefully wrapped – and you have so many because you thought you’d spend your mornings on the balcony, drinking coffee with the love of your life. You’ll use every single of them one day. You know this. For now, they are securely in a box, waiting to be whisked away to your new apartment.

It's like a checklist now, moving through the apartment as you mentally tick off everything you’ve packed or given away to charity. You’ve thrown away the pictures of you two together, unceremoniously placed in the trash as a symbolic gesture of how quickly things went wrong. You aren’t upset anymore and you don’t wish to be. There’s no numbness, no wishing that things could go back to the way they were.

You know now that you deserve better.

That alone keeps the momentum up to finish packing, the doorbell ringing to signal that the movers are here. Where Frank has gone, you have no idea. Somewhere up in Northern California most likely, hanging out with his friends who probably told him it was a good idea to get away from you because this last fight, the one where you looked him in the eye and told him you were unhappy, only seemed to make him disinterested in continuing the conversation.

As the movers come, you survey the place, looking at the note that is placed on the counter. It’s a quick goodbye, your portion of the rent already in his bank account in case he thinks you’re skipping out.

Before long, the truck is packed up and heading to your new place as you follow behind.

It doesn’t take long for you to get there, looking up at the brownstone building with a sense of hope and peace of mind before a man walks past. You almost do a double take at the sight of him. He looks so much like Frank that you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things, the man stopping at the sight of the moving truck.

“New here?” he asks with a kind smile.

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Always good to have new people around. I’m Bucky,” he introduces, holding out his hand as you shake it. “Hope to see you around.”

Sebastian Stan in The 355