King Of My Heart, Body And Soul

king of my heart, body and soul

Damn timothée Chalamet really hits ya in black and white 🥰🥺

God Is A Woman

Inspired by “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande.

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: It is said that anyone that is worthy to wield the hammer of Thor possesses the power of a God. You prove that God can indeed be a woman.

Warnings: Are Endgame spoilers still a thing?

Author’s note: THIS IS A HAPPY ENDING TO ENDGAME BC FUCK WHAT THE FUCK IS DEATH OUR FAVS KNOW NO SUCH THING EVERYONE :) IS :) ALIVE :) :) -samantha 💜

It was the final stretch.

Thanos from another timeline was here with his army. The snap was reversed. Your loved ones were all back, but with them came the vile creatures that were snapped alongside them. You fought ferociously, angry tears burning your eyes. You all had suffered for years. The world had suffered for years. It was time for the ones who had caused it to pay.

You and Steve fought side by side, tossing each other weapons back and forth. He wielded Thor’s hammer like it was his. The sight made you proud. You had always known he was too good for this universe. You were honored to be able to fight next to him. At some point he had lifted you up on his shoulders and catapulted you at Proxima Midnight. You landed with your legs around her neck, strangling her before you fired a couple rounds into her skull. She was gone. But their numbers were growing. Thano’s army seemed endless and your ammunition was running low. Steve studied you from his peripheral as you fought off a predator. There were approximately five surrounding you and five more on their way. There was no way your assault rifles and knives were going to suffice. He was occupied with his own set of aliens. If something were to happen to you, he would not be able to get to you on time. He growled in frustration, fighting off the aliens quicker until an idea popped into his head.

“Do you trust me?” He called over the sound of war.

“What?!” You called back, preoccupied by another alien.

“I said do you trust me?!” Steve repeated louder.

When the alien hit the floor, you turned and faced him, your face scrunched up with confusion. You opened your mouth, but before you could respond, Steve at thrown Thor’s hammer in the air. It was coming right towards you.

“Steve, what the fuck?! Are you insane?!” You screeched.

Out of instinct, you reached your hand out to catch it, blocking it from hitting your face. Preparing to be thrown onto the soiled ground, you closee your eyes and braced yourself. But the impact never came. And even in battle, the Earth had quieted. You opened your eyes. The sight made you cease your breath.

In your hand, was mjolnir.

You gawked and scoffed incredulously.

“What..” You mumbled, looking up at Steve

His azure eyes glittered with pride as he stared at you with a proud smile.

His girl was worthy.

“I told you to trust me, doll.” Steve commented.

A large grin spread across your face.

“YES!” Thor screamed out from somewhere. “LADY Y/N! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT, GODDAMNIT!”

You began to giggle in pure shock and excitement. Your eyes watered again. Happy tears this time. Even after all of your failures, you were still worthy.

“I..I don’t know how to use this thing.” You croaked.

Steve wrapped his hand wround yours, fisting your grip around the hammer in encouragement.

“Yes you do.” He said knowingly.

You impulsively leaned up and planted a quick kiss onto his lips.

“Look, I’m proud of you and all but we have a hostile situation right over there, I’m gonna need your worthy ass to do something about it.” Clint teased.

You and Steve laughed. He loving tapped your bottom.

“Go ahead.” He whispered.

You closed your eyes, channeling every ounce of strength in you. Lifting up your arm, you began to spin the hammer like you have seen Thor do many times and sent a bolt of lightning down onto a large group of aliens.

“Atta girl.” You heard Tony praise.

The sentimental moment was ruined once again as more charged at you. You fought them with a new found strength. Your soul burned with the thirst for vengeance. A primal snarl left your mouth as you sent another strike down, reducing Thano’s numbers generously. A strong force picked you up by your neck and tossed you to the ground like a ragdoll.

“I see you still haven’t learned, my child.”

Thanos.

“Haven’t I granted you enough mercy?” He tauntingly cooed.

You looked over his shoulder. Thor stood behind him, stormbreaker ready in his hands. You sent him a look, slowly and discreetly gripping mjolnir. You yanked it up and jerked it into a whip-like motion. A coil of lightning slithered around the titan’s neck tightly as he bellowed in pain. You hopped up on to him, planting your feet flat on his chest and pulling the coil tighter.

“Fuck. Your. Mercy.” You growled.

You brought your face right next to his ear. You wanted every. Single. Syllable to resonate with him.

“You’ll never be a god. And when I lay my wrath upon you, you’ll know god is a woman.”

You sent one more electrifying current through him. As he shouted in pain, everyone stared at you in amazement. Sure, you were a bad ass chick. They’ve seen you train, kill, and make grown men sob like babies. But they had never seen you like this. You looked like a goddess. You spoke your words into existence.

Thor dug stormbreaker into the titan’s flesh and Carol managed to yank the gauntlet off of him. Your combined strength wasn’t enough however. The titan tossed you off of him, taking your ribs as he threw Carol a mile away. You let out an agonizing scream as your bones pierced your lungs. Steve stepped in only to be thrown down. Thanos landed a blow to his stomach. Your lover yelped in pain like he had never done before.

“Steve!” You screamed in horror, ignoring the sharp burn of yor lungs.

God not him. Not him.

The battle continued on until finally, Tony had managed to slip the fake gauntlet onto Thanos’ hand. He smirked with pride, raising his hand cockily.

“I am inevitable.” He gloated, snapping his fingers.

But nothing happened. He blinked a couple of times in disbelief, studying the gauntlet. His eyes sharply landed on Tony who had the real gauntlet, the stones shining with power.

“And I, am Iron Man.”

Tony snapped his fingers. You all stood still as Thano’s army turned into dust. The mad titan was ironically saved for last. He watched everything he worked for disappear and turn into nothing. Just as you all had when he snapped away your loved ones. He had no reaction as he knelt on the ground. He accepted his fate, stoically watching bits and pieces of himself chip away until there was no more of him.

Tony weakly fell to the ground.

“I’m alright, I’m alright.” He panted. “Where’s Y/N? Everyone alright?”

You wheezed painfully. “I’m right here!”

Steve ran over to you, kneeling in front of you with concern.

“Sweetheart? Bruce!” He yelled.

“I’m on it!” Bruce called back, walking over to you. He gently unwrapped your arms from your midsection and grazed your jutted out rib with a feather-like touch. Even that caused you to yelp.

“Two broken ribs.” Bruce concluded. “We gotta sit her up,”

“N-no, no, no, it hurts when I move!” You cried in horror, tears streaming down your faced.

“We have to, baby, we gotta get you home,” Steve begged. “C’mon, babydoll. Can I get some help?”

“I got it.” A familiar voice interjected.

“Bucky?” You breathed in pure disbelief. The shock of finally seeing your best friend after five long years was almost palpable.

His arms gently grasped your shoulders.

“Hey, beautiful. I see you’re still getting in trouble.” Bucky charmed.

“Buck, I missed you so much.” You cried.

“No tears for me? Damn.”

“Sammy!” You cheered, hissing at the amount of pressure on your lungs.

“Don’t worry about him, dollface. Lets get you up. Ready?” Bucky soothed.

You closed your eyes as he gently lifted you and placed you into Steve’s arms.

“Are you okay?” You whimpered.

“I’m alright baby. Don’t worry about me. You’re going to be okay.” He whispered.

“That fucker broke my ribs.” You grumbled against his neck.

He raked his fingers through your sweat drenched hair.

“He got what he deserved.”

Everyone was gathered in your hospital room. Granted, everyone looked like shit, but your room was still kept pretty. Different types of flower arrangements were littered on practically every surface. “Get well soon” balloons floated around aimlessly. Scott had brought in a baby blue “It’s a boy!” balloon as a gag and partially because there were no more “get well soon” balloons at the grocery store since your friends had bought them all for you.

“Hey! We’re all expecting a Baby Rogers from you two any time now!” Scott defended.

“Uncle Steve, is Auntie pregnant? Are you pregnant Auntie Y/N?!” Morgan squealed excitedly, crawling out of Steve’s lap and onto your hospital bed.

Everyone in the room laughed loudly.

“No, honey,” You laughed. It didn’t hurt as much anymore to talk above a whisper thanks to the pain medication you were on.

“Not yet..” Steve mumbled quietly.

Groans, laughs, and shocking gasps filled the room.

“Damn, Cap. Didn’t know you got down like that.” Tony laughed.

“Captain, Captain, Captain. Not even waiting till marriage to frickle frackle?” Clint snorted.

“Excuse me, did you just say ‘frickle frackle’?” Natasha scoffed.

“There’s kids in the room!” Clint exclaimed.

“Daddy, what’s frinkle frackle?” Lilah asked curiously.

“Goddamnit, Barton,” You groaned.

“Language, ma’am.” Steve interjected.

“You literally just admitted to every single one of our colleagues that you were planning on getting me pregnant, Rogers!” You argued.

“Jesus fuck, I can’t with you two right now.” Bucky groaned.

You gasped and stuffed your earbuds in Morgan’s ears, handing her your phone and putting “Baby Shark” on a loop. She excitedly bounced and bopped on your lap to the song.

“Buck, there are fucking kids in here you fucking fu-“

“Oh, wow. Yup. Very worthy.” Bucky remarked satirically, waving a pointed finger at you.

“Lets talk about that!” Sam exclaimed.

“That,” Tony proclaimed. “was some quality shit.”

“I knew it all along.” Thor bragged, ruffling your hair before pressing a brotherly kiss on the top of your head.

“You lifted Uncle Thor’s hammer?!” Cooper burst out.

You smiled sheepishly.

“Well, Steve threw it at me and I panicked and kinda just...caught it.”

“Rogers wielded it as well!” Thor added.

Steve shook his head.

“I want to talk about this goddess right here.” He spoke adoringly.

You had zoned out of the conversation, however, joining Morgan in her little dance session as you both shared your earbuds.

“I still can’t believe this is what mew mew or whatever thought was worthy.” Sam grumbled, pointing in your direction where you were rocking Morgan back and forth cooing “baby stark doo doo doo doo doo doo baby stark doo doo doo doo doo doo” repeatedly as she giggled relentlessly.

Natasha smiled proudly at you.

“She deserves it.” She spoke, the mood in the room suddenly turning serious. “You guys should’ve seen her when she was brought in for the first time.”

Natasha’s vision clouded as the memory broadcasted itself in her head.

“She was like...an animal that’s been abused for years. Territorial, not verbal at all unless she was threatening to kill you, distant. Extremely distant. Before she found us, she truly believed she had nothing going for her besides being tossed around as a weapon.”

Everyone was solemn at the idea of the strong, successful, put together woman they know locked in a prison shaking like a leaf. The Y/N they knew versus the Y/N Natasha was recalling sounded like two completely different people.

“For her to be worthy, to feel worthy, and have some semblance of worthiness is everything to her. Whether she denies it or not.”

Your teammates, your family, studied you. They watched the same hands that wielded the hammer of the God of thunder gently caress the face of a child. You were fierce yet nurturing. Tactical yet instinctive. The perfect balance of head and heart.

You were everything.

Steve blinked away his tears, joining you and Morgan on the hospital bed. He carefully wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss on to your forehead. You smiled up at him with a twinkling smile that rivaled the galaxy. His heart nearly collapsed, like it had done every single time you looked at him. But every single time, you were there to catch him.

She deserves it Steve concluded.

where you decide to stay

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: It’s become a routine for you and the Captain to do this; go out, get drinks, and hookup when you’re on assignment together. You didn’t fall into bed with each other because you fell in love; you feel into bed with each other because Wilson doesn’t seem interested, Rogers holds his relationship with Romanoff too sacred for him to corrupt with sex, and you’re the only other option. You’re there. You’re easy. And yet…

Author's Note: This fic is for my 300 followers challenge, inspired by the song "All I've Ever Known" from the musical Hadestown. Title is from "That Could Be Enough" from Hamilton, because I'm a theatre kid and this is a theatre challenge. This fic is kinda different from anything I've ever written and it absolutely could not have happened without the help of @divine-mistake, who encouraged me every step of the way. Thank you for believing in me, Taylor.

Warning(s): angst with a happy ending, implied smut, mention of sex trafficking (in passing), light description of injury, mutual pining, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being seen

Word Count: 3,571

( masterlist / ao3 )

You wake up in a cocoon of warmth. Not only are you nestled under five blankets, a quilt, and a heavy-duty comforter, you’ve also got a big muscular arm keeping you close to a big muscular chest. It’s a moment you wish you could stay in forever; quit your life of international vigilantism and just live in a breathless moment between sleep and waking.

You shake the thought from your mind, pushing yourself from the cocoon and into the cold winter morning of the St. Petersburg safe house. You begin to gather various clothing items and weapons from around the room. Steve's still asleep, the peaceful lull of his breathing drawing your heart back to bed like the tide. You consider joining him again.

You sigh, shaking your head.

Nothing gold can stay.

You walk to the front door and step outside.

It’s snowing in St. Petersburg. The wind whips at your face as you sneak down the alley away from Steve and the safehouse. You tuck your chin in towards your chest and flip the lapels of your coat up around your face.

This is the part that you’re used to: the leaving.

You’d done a lot of that in your life. You’d been essentially alone, after becoming a fugitive at fifteen. You’d hacked the CIA. That was until a year ago, when Captain America had tracked you down and asked if you’d be willing to help him win a fight. He was taking on half of the Avengers, and all the scientists and engineers were on the other team. You agreed. You improved some of their tech, got in trouble with the UN, and now you go on secret missions all over the world saving lives and falling into bed with Captain America.

Damn Rogers, with his bright blue eyes that can see a whole world beyond the one you’re in. He’s crazy. He makes you feel alive.

You feel a tug in your chest, knowing how long it will be until you see him again.

You bury it somewhere deep in the snow under your feet.

╳ ╳ ╳

The first time Steve sees you, the world stops short.

You’re at that empty airport in Germany, preparing to fight. He’d met you in the same way he’d met Lang, just a quick introduction before things become serious.

The whole group of you walk towards the edge of the parking lot, out into the light of day.

Steve looks down the line at his teammates, with their stoic and fierce expressions, and then there was you; stood at the end of the line, looking terrified.

Steve’s not one for love at first sight. He judges people on the content of their character, and could never love someone without really knowing them.

But he watches you, all that fear on your face rippling like he’d touched the surface of water and then settling and smoothing out into something more determined, and he thought “that’s the point”.

Then he turned forward and went to battle.

╳ ╳ ╳

You stumble through the door of the St.Petersburg safehouse around midnight, tipsy and in the middle of smudging your lipstick all over Steve’s face. You’re only a few steps in the doorway before you’re shedding clothes. You’re lucky the place is just a studio apartment. Otherwise, you wouldn’t make it to the bed.

It’s become a routine for you and the Captain to do this; go out, get drinks, and hookup when you’re on assignment together. You didn’t fall into bed with each other because you fell in love; you feel into bed with each other because Wilson doesn’t seem interested, Rogers holds his relationship with Romanoff too sacred for him to corrupt with sex, and you’re the only other option. You’re there. You’re easy.

And yet…

Steve Rogers touches you like you’re precious. He brings you to your climax and then clings to you like you’re the answer he’s been searching for. He traces gentle patterns into your bare hip in the aftermath, while your mind is occupied with exit strategies.

“You gonna be here when I wake up?” he whispers when he thinks you’re asleep.

No, you say to yourself. You live to disappoint.

╳ ╳ ╳

None of you take much with you, but Steve has a backpack. He calls it a “knapsack” and you laugh at him a little in your head every time. From what you’ve observed, it contains a few changes of clothes, a little notebook, a compass, a case full of pencils, and a sketchbook. You see him sketching in it all the time, although you never quite catch what he’s drawing.

But you wonder. And he leaves his backpack on the floor when he takes you to bed.

You wake up in the middle of the night. You’d had a bad dream, not a nightmare. (It’s not a nightmare if it doesn’t wake up your bedmate).

The backpack is sitting on the floor across the room, staring at you.

Staying quiet enough not to wake Captain America’s enhanced hearing is a challenge, especially when you’re rifling through his bag. But you feel the familiar leather of the sketchbook and you grab on for dear life, running on tiptoe over to the hotel room bathroom. You sit on the toilet seat and open up the book.

Steve is remarkably good. Some of the more basic sketches are familiar faces; Tony Stark and Clint Barton towards the start, Romanoff and Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, the guy with the metal arm you haven’t seen since Germany (Bucky; Steve’s best friend, your mind supplies). There are also some more cartoonish works, like one of a monkey in the Captain America suit balancing on a thin wire labelled “principles”, or a man sleeping on a bed made of icicles. There are a couple sketches of you; one of your back that must’ve been done one night while you were asleep, or your silhouette during some kind of battle that must’ve been done from memory.

Judging how often you saw Steve drawing you assumed he’d have to have sketched you at some point. It’s not surprising; you’re there. You linger on the silhouette for a moment before flipping the page.

The following page makes you gasp.

It’s you again, but unlike any of the others. In this one you’re smiling; head tilted over the one side, lips pursed from the effort of keeping in a full on laugh. Your expression looks fond. Your eyes twinkle.

You stand quickly, looking into the bathroom mirror. You smile. The smile makes you frown.

You have all the same features as the woman from the sketch; same hair and eyes and nose. But you can’t recreate that twinkle, or the fondness. It’s not an expression you can bring out of yourself, you realize. It’s an expression only he can.

You quickly shut the bathroom light, return the sketchbook to Steve’s backpack, and crawl back in bed.

╳ ╳ ╳

Steve’s leaning up against the wall of an alley somewhere, waiting for Sam to bring food back to the car. He can’t really show his face anywhere anymore, and a cowardly part of him is glad for that. He doesn’t think he can face the world as the guy who destroyed their protectors.

You stayed back to wait with him, though, and for that, he’s grateful. You don’t ask much of him, just stand there kicking rocks in your beat-up combat boots.

“Have I ever thanked you, for everything?”

Steve watches you ponder the laces of your boots. He thinks you’re trying to decide if he’s serious. He thinks he can tell what you’re feeling, sometimes, just by looking at you.

“I didn’t do anything, Rogers.”

“You decided to join my team,” he says. “You knew the UN was against us - that Tony was against us - and you still signed on. That’s pretty brave.”

You scoff, eyes trained on the pebbles you’re kicking at. Steve wishes you’d look at him.

“I’m serious.”

Your eyes flick up to his face and for one paralyzing moment, you’re looking straight at him.

“When you recruited me, you said that the battle might not end easily, or soon. You said this could turn into the fight of my life.”

There’s this awful expression on your face that Steve recognizes from his military days. It’s the face of a commanding officer writing to the families of a soldier who was killed in action.

“I wasn’t noble,” you say to his forehead. “I was hungry.”

╳ ╳ ╳

It’d be wrong to tell you you’re beautiful right then, but he thinks it.

╳ ╳ ╳

There’s dirt all over your body, seeping into your pores and your lungs and somehow, your heart. It’s suffocating, the unsettled air around the warehouse. You’re on your back in the middle of the ground. Your side burns, and without any examination you’re pretty sure it’s a knife wound. Fucking sex traffickers.

“Everyone alright?” You hear his voice from the comms in your ears. “Romanoff?”

“I’m alright and on my way to the jet.”

“Good. Wilson?”

“I got eyes on Romanoff, following her out.”

“Alright. Y/l/n?”

You try to sit up and tell Steve you’re alright at the same time, but all that comes out is a cry of pain at the gash across your ribs.

“Y/l/n?!” He yells into the comms.

You suck a breath through your teeth, biting back another scream and more tears. Your side burns, so much so that disembowelment seems like a better option than struggling your way back to the jet. Better to just throw the whole person away and start over.

Steve is calling for you over the comms, but it takes a second for your hearing to get back online.

“Y/l/n?!! Where are you? Y/n?!!”

“I’m here, Cap. It’s gonna - uh shit - take me a sec to get to you guys.”

“Don’t even think about it, I’ll come to you.”

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there, willing yourself to stand up but unable to move again without whimpering. You might’ve blacked out for a second. You do know the familiar clomp of Captain America’s boots, rushing over to your position on the warehouse floor.

There’s a moment where he just stands there, stunned and frankly quite useless, looking you over. He tilts his head at you, arms held out on either side, eyes raking over your weakened frame.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says at last.

You chuckle through gritted teeth, and almost black out from the pain it sends to your ribs.

“I don’t really think that’s an option, Cap.”

He nods, looking a bit sheepish. As gently as he can manage, he eases you into his arms, taking extra care around your bloody rib cage. The whole affair takes about five minutes, but you manage to find a position in his arms.

The exhaustion overtakes you immediately. You know you need to stay awake, but your eyelids have a different agenda. They close every other second, heavy and getting increasingly hard to fight.

“Y/n, you still with me?” Steve asks, panic rising in his tone.

“Unfortunately,” you say, forcing your eyelids open just in time to catch Steve’s expression.

Damn him, he smiles at that. And damn you, you bare your bloody teeth and smile back.

╳ ╳ ╳

The problem with being international fugitives is that there’s really no safe place to go for medical care. You’re bleeding from your side, fading in and out of consciousness, and Steve’s just about done hearing why he can’t take you to a hospital.

“Steve,” Sam says, adopting his “I work at the VA” tone that Steve loathes. “Your face is plastered on every news channel in the world. The second you walk into a hospital, you’re gonna come out in handcuffs.”

“I can break handcuffs,” Steve reminds him.

Sam gives him a look.

“Super handcuffs.”

He stares Steve down for a moment, and maybe in another life where Steve isn’t as stubborn and hasn’t already disassembled Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for the sake of not being so alone, it’d work.

“Look, boys, we need to get her somewhere,” Natasha reminds them.

Right. They’re still standing outside a warehouse. You’re still bleeding out in Steve’s arms.

“There’s a safehouse we can go to in Budapest, I have a hospital grade first-aid kit there. Okay?”

Steve looks down at you, lying limp in his arms.

“Okay.”

╳ ╳ ╳

“He likes you, you know,” Sam Wilson says to you from the driver’s seat of the car, during a rare moment when it’s just the two of you.

“Who, Rogers?” you ask. “He likes you too, Wilson.”

Sam scoffs.

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”

He has you there.

Neither of you says a word the rest of the journey.

╳ ╳ ╳

Natasha sits next to Steve in the back of the quinjet on the way to Budapest.

“You’re in love with her,” she says. It’s not a question.

“Really, Romanoff?” Steve tries for venom, but he’s never been good at fighting, not for himself. He’s just tired.

She arches a brow at him.

“Are you denying it?”

Steve stares at his hands.

╳ ╳ ╳

Natasha knows a nurse who’s able to confirm you don’t have internal bleeding, stitch up the gash across your ribs, and be handsomely compensated for her discretion. You’re human and you almost bled to death, so it’s gonna take at least a few weeks to recover. Romanoff and Wilson take off on new assignments within the first couple days. Your Captain insists on staying for the duration of your recovery.

“Can I get you anything?”

He’s leaned against the doorpost of the only bedroom in the place - the bed’s a queen but he’s been taking the couch because he is irrevocably that guy - giving you his best impression of a concerned mother.

You smile a little at that. His brow furrows.

“What?”

“You make a good nurse,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” He walks over and sits himself down next to you on the bed.

“My mom was a nurse, and I spent a lot of time with ‘em. I used to get sick a lot, back in the day.”

“Well, I think you’d make your mother proud,” you say.

You meant them as a joke, but the words fall from your lips too softly.

There’s something painfully close about Steve right now. You’ve been naked in front of him in bed before, but you’ve never felt so exposed as you do at this moment, telling him his mom would be proud of him.

Steve seems to pick up on it is as well. He drops his gaze to his hands.

“You almost died,” he all but whispers.

You swallow.

“I did.”

He nods. His eyebrows knit together in that way they do when he’s preparing for a fight.

“Natasha thinks I’m in love with you -”

Natasha’s always right about people, you think.

“ - but I think you already knew that.”

Maybe Steve’s right about people too.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”

Your mind is blank. He’s looking at you, looking for a sign in you, the way he’d done in a thousand moments before this one, and you have no words.

“Right,” he coughs, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll, ah, go then.”

He moves to stand from the bed, legs sliding across the bedding, feet hovering over the floor. You grab his hand.

“Damnit, Steve,” you say, and then you pull his face down towards yours and kiss him.

You kiss him, and it feels like climbing a tree as a child. It feels like sunlight on your face. It feels like all those things you never had; safety and warmth and arms that reach for you only to offer comfort.

Steve brings his arms up around you, and he feels like he’s holding the whole world. He has always been Atlas with the world on his shoulders. But now he’s discovering that when the world shifts from his shoulders to his arms and takes your shape, its weight is bearable. Its weight is glorious.

The kissing goes on for a while, slow and soft and achingly tender in that way he does things. You don’t realize you’re crying until Steve’s elated smile falls from his face.

“This isn’t easy for me,” you say. A confession, or maybe an apology.

“This,” you sigh, “emotions… thing.”

“What can I do to make this easier on you?” Steve whispers to you.

Your face heats. You bury your gaze in the smooth muscle of his chest.

You want to make a joke, something to diffuse the tension and remove that painfully earnest expression from his face. But you’ve got the human embodiment of afternoon sunlight and cookies fresh from the oven engulfing you in his protective embrace. But you just almost died, and you’re tired of begging him not to love you. But the best man in the world loves you despite how hard you tried to get him not to. The least you can give him is the truth.

“Say that you’ll hold me forever,” you say instead, and it sounds like a prayer as it leaves your lips. “Say that nothing’s gonna change. Say we’ll stay together and it’ll always be like this.”

Steve takes a gentle finger to your chin, lifting it so you’re looking directly into those baby blue eyes. His smile is teasing, but earnest and gentle.

You can see it in his eyes, a whole future for the both of you sketching itself out in his head. A better world that no one else can see.

“I’m gonna hold you forever. Nothing will ever change for us. As long as we stay together, it will always be like this.”

And damn, you, you believe him. Despite knowing that he couldn’t possibly make that promise, you believe him. You want to live in a world where you look like the woman from his sketches, and he wants to construct it. He looks at you like you’re the whole world wrapped up in his arms, and you believe him.

When you wake up the next morning, Steve’s asleep, an armed looped over your waist. You smile, pull him closer, and drift off to sleep again.

The wonderful people that own my heart❤️

needy

(Draco x  female Hufflepuff reader)

summary: (inspired by the song ‘needy’ by Ariana Grande) Draco Malfoy has been made a Death Eater and given the task to murder Albus Dumbledore, something that would make any normal person have constant breakdowns. Draco is no different. In the solace of Moaning Myrtle’s company, he gets attached to someone else in the process. words: 13.9k warnings: cursing, implied sex, blood (sectumsempra curse). a/n: Hi! I’ve had the plot for this imagine in my head since January, started writing it in February, and now in May it’s finally finished :) I Hope you all enjoy. If you’ve never heard this song, I really recommend it! lot’s of Ariana’s recent music makes me think about Draco. I tried to incorporate as many lyrics as possible, and also some from her song 'ghostin’’ (an alternative title I considered) p.s. to my knowledge, brushing bugs are not something in the Harry Potter universe, I just came up with them on my own. I figured pureblood witches and wizards would have found alternative, magical means to cleaning their teeth, maybe considering toothbrushes for muggles, muggleborns and halfbloods. (there will be no second part to this imagine. it’s already super long) taglist: @clockworkherondale @mayorofzillyhoo @hockeyandmarvel @mdgrdians. this fic is deadicated to @socontagiousimagines who i know has been going through a tough time, loves ari & draco, and writes amazing stories ♡

Part of him couldn’t believe he was back in this bloody bathroom again, confiding in what was possibly Hogwarts’ most annoying ghost. And yet.

Myrtle was actually… not so annoying. Maybe she thought he was cute, but then again, from most of the stories it seemed she found all boys cute. Regardless, she was one person Draco could safely vent to, seeing as A) this problem would be trivial to her in twenty years and B) the Dark Lord couldn’t exactly kill a ghost, no matter how powerful he was. Myrtle had all the time in the world, and was very willing to listen to Draco come and complain or cry. She also gave surprisingly comforting advice, even if she couldn’t give him any physical comfort.

“…not your fault, he’s always sticking his nose into others’ businesses.” Myrtle’s high pitched voice echoed around the tiled room, pulling Draco’s thoughts back to the topic at hand.

“Myrtle?” Draco heard a female voice call. Myrtle immediately shut her mouth, and Draco tensed up. The girl came walking into the bathroom and turning the corner to where the rows of toilets were. “Sorry I’m…” Her voiced faded as she finally looked down the aisle.

Draco hoped it was someone he didn’t know, but instead found himself slightly surprised. It was Y/N L/N, the only Pureblood of their year to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco had always been vaguely aware of her presence– she was Hufflepuff Prefect, and her father worked at the Ministry like his own father. Draco had never had any reason to talk to her though, since they were sorted into opposing houses and young Draco had seen no reason to keep up with her.

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