'til The Morning Comes (8/10)

'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

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 ❤️

912 notes View Post

erinallene

3 years ago

2K notes View Post

erinallene

3 years ago

33 notes View Post

erinallene

2 years ago

Happy birthday Sebastian!

2 notes View Post

erinallene

2 years ago

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

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

256 notes View Post

erinallene

3 years ago

Chris Evans As Frank Adler In Gifted (2017)

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)

5K notes View Post

erinallene

3 years ago

Navy! Stud knocking on the door to wake up Smartie from the alarm is so cute. What about when they're dating? 😏

I'm glad you think so, nonnie! And Bucky has ways to wake you up.

Sleeping Arrangements

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You insist on sleeping in your room, but Bucky likes a challenge. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), slight dirty talk, slight praise, swearing, implied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), established relationship, roommate!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Lovelies, I promise I will actually write how Stud and Smartie get together, but I couldn't pass this up. Partially inspired by a chat with @lookiamtrying (thank you!!!). Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @vase-of-lilies. and divider by @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Navy! Stud Knocking On The Door To Wake Up Smartie From The Alarm Is So Cute. What About When They're

It was your idea to keep your separate bedrooms once the two of you started dating. It was a way to maintain boundaries and a small sense of independence since you shared a living space. You didn’t always sleep alone. Some nights he slept in your room and vice versa. It was a good system.

Not that Bucky made it easy. He never did when it involved him wanting you. And you made the mistake of looking back last night as you went toward your bedroom door. You knew better and you did it anyway. All 6’3 of him with his messy hair and beefy frame bathed in the moonlight from the window was staring back at you and pouting. It didn't help that the sexy menace was only in his underwear.

And that your panties were wet just from his gaze.

"My bed is much warmer, Smartie, and I’ll get lonely."

Don’t give in. Admittedly, you always slept a bit better when he was beside you. Even though you were soaked as he slowly sauntered toward you, part of you said to stand your ground with the rules you set. Bucky made it fun to break them, but you would not let your body overrule your will tonight.

“I’m sleeping in my room,” you proudly managed to say, pressing your thighs together as if to silence your weeping pussy. Get it together. “And if you really get lonely, you can wake me up early.”

Bucky hummed as he stopped in front of you, grasping your chin. He smiled as you looked into your eyes and you swore your heart stopped. A second passed before he covered your lips with his, using his other hand to pull you closer by the small of your back. He worked his mouth against yours, spreading desire from your chest down between your thighs. How he managed to always kiss you breathless, you had no idea.

He took his time to pull away, his thumb brushing your trembling lip as he gazed at you. The look of affection in his eyes made you feel cherished and safe. You were proud your legs didn’t give out when he took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. He spun around without another word and walked toward his door, only stopping when you began to follow him. The smug smirk on his face only turned you on more when he glanced over his shoulder. “Your bedroom is that way. Sweet dreams.”

“I beg your pardon?” was what came out because he wouldn’t really make you sleep alone after that, would he?

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he winked before he went into his room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You tapped your finger against your thigh, trying to figure out how he turned this around on you. “Well. Fuck,” you said indignantly. You couldn’t be too annoyed with him since you set the rule, but he wasn’t playing fair. I don’t have to either. Smiling, you crept to his door, peeled your underwear off and hung it from the doorknob. Your boyfriend could be a light sleeper and sometimes got up in the middle of the night. So a gift wouldn't hurt.

At least he doesn’t have to steal this pair.

You weren't exactly sure what time it was when you began to wake up, but you knew it was early from the lack of light coming in from the blinds. You hadn't even hit "snooze" on your first alarm. What you did know was that your legs were spread wide on your bed to accommodate the size of your boyfriend, who had already pushed his shirt up around your waist. When you actually wore something to bed, it was always something of his.

And you hadn't bothered to put on a new pair of underwear.

"Was kind of hoping you’d sneak into my room, but I should’ve known better after that stunt I pulled. Was also hoping I’d have my tongue buried in you before you stirred,” Bucky said when you tried to sit up. "Found your little gift, by the way. Could still smell how wet you were.”

“Your fault. You always get me wet,” you argued, blindly reaching for his hair as his breath ghosted over your folds.

“And you always get me hard, so all’s fair, doll,” he said with a drag of his tongue. “Did you have sweet dreams? You must have since you're still wet."

You lost your train of thought for a moment, a soft noise coming out as he brushed his nose against your bundle of nerves. "Yes," you whined as your head tipped back, feeling his grip tighten on your thighs to keep you in place. This is exactly how my dream started and it better end with his cock in me.

“Dream of me?” he asked and you felt him smirk as his mouth wrapped around your clit.

“Fuck, yes!” you shouted impressively considering he just woke you up. Part of you wondered if your neighbors heard you. If he was buried between their thighs, which will never happen, they’d be screaming, too.

“Dreamt about you, too. Woke up aching. I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned as he went back to licking your folds. "Fuck, always so sweet for me. Just lay back and let me keep tasting you."

Tugging a little on his hair in response, you gasped when his metal hand moved under your shirt. Your nipple was taut before he touched it, gently grazing it as he groped your breast. You wished you could see his hot gaze as you arched your back, but you knew you'd see ecstasy in his eyes after he got you off.

His tongue flicked over your clit again as he moaned, like he had all the time in the world to work you over. "You should just sleep in my bed. Let me wake you with my tongue and cock before you start your day. Love tasting you in my mouth before I go to work. Best breakfast I've ever had."

The breathless sounds you made blended together beautifully with his words, that familiar spark felt deep in your core when he suddenly pushed his tongue in deep. "Bucky, there! Please!"

He sighed as pulled out, making you whine. "You know what to call me," he reminded you, the touch of his teeth against your inner thigh making you tremble. "Just say it once."

"Stud, please," you begged. The nickname should've sounded ridiculous like this, but Bucky loved hearing it because you were the one saying it.

“Good girl.”

"Fuck!" you cried when he plunged his tongue back in, licking your walls like he wanted to taste every drop of your essence. The hand that occupied your breast moved to your stomach, keeping you as still as he could. Your legs began to shake as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm before he stopped. "Bucky!"

Your boyfriend simply slipped his tongue out again, the pool of heat in your gut still there. "You're sleeping in my bed tonight," he told you. It wasn't a question.

"Oh, my God! Fine! I will sleep in your bed tonight,” you groaned as he chuckled happily. I might smother him with a pillow. “Just get your tongue back in me before I-"

"I know what you need, Smartie. Let me give it to you."

You almost lost it completely when he did so, adding two fingers. He didn't thrust deep until he knew the stretch wouldn't hurt. How is he still gentle as he devours me? You tried to push your hips closer, needing a little more fiction so you could let go.

"Come for me. Scream my name. Wake the neighbors. I don't give a fuck. Not when you taste this good."

The deep, dark command of his voice as he flicked his tongue once more made the coil finally snap. Your body exploded with your orgasm, screaming and sobbing his name as he worked you through it. Your walls continued to clench as his tongue and fingers slowed, lifting his head to watch. “Fucking beautiful,” you heard, your eyes half open as the world around you stopped spinning.

Bucky crawled over your body and you could make out a bit just how dark his eyes were before he kissed you. The mess you made on his tongue was put into your mouth as he licked into it, drawing another moan from you. That sound stretched on when you felt his hard cock trapped between your bodies.

“Morning,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning,” you replied, still catching your breath. “It’s early.”

“It is,” he agreed, dragging his lips to your nose. “We should go to bed early tonight.”

“Yes, we should.”

“And since you’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” he began triumphantly. “You should sleep in my room tomorrow night, too.”

Nice try. “No,” you smiled.

Bucky glanced quickly at your phone before he looked down at you. “I think I can convince you. But right now let’s see how many times I can fill you up before your first alarm goes off.”

*****

More from Stud and Smartie soon. Love and thanks!

2K notes View Post

erinallene

2 years ago

It’s here!!

229 notes View Post

erinallene

2 years ago