The Cookie Is Slightly🤏 Burnt

😭

need that fictional man’s cock in my mouth, i can’t go on like this y’all

This is soooo cutee!!

okay but imagine young tony or steve knowing your college schedule and planning his whole schedule around it which means he plans his whole life around it (bonus if he’s not dating you yet)

just an idea lol, take ur time and do it if you wanna :))

AHHHHHHHH UESNUES YESY EYEES, COLLEGE!STEVE LET ME AT HIM!! i might make this a two parter ??? maybe the second one will be smut, but the first one will be them getting together LET ME KNOW IF YALL WANT THAT!!!!

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༄.° ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝟷/𝟸 🧸ྀི

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: i love you the way you are by bobby vinton (2:54)

✰ pairing: college!steve rogers x college!fem!reader

✰ cw: fluff, swearing, kissing, lowkey stalker-ish if you squint, love confessions, characters getting together but not actually stated, steve is a dork

✰ word count: 2.1k+ (lord)

✰ summary: steve notices you in his politics class, he starts to develop a crush on you and he then asks a mutual friend for your schedule - purposely posing himself outside your classrooms so he could make conversation and sitting next to you during politics.

✰ a/n: THEEHHEEHEHHEHEH, there's kinda alot of dialogue but YUHH!! COLOURING MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE, SOME OF THE COLOURING IS WEIRD - I BLAME TUMBLR

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ steve ☀︎ sam ✈︎

Steve first saw you in his Politics class, he thought you were cute - but nothing really developed from it. That's when your professor paired the two of you up for a project, he then noticed the small things about you - how your pens were chewed, how you sniflled every so often, how you always did your hair in a different way everytime he saw you. Suddenly, a feeling of affection developed into a crush. 

And now, you were sitting in his dorm - he kicked out his roommates as soon as he heard word that you were going to come over for the politics project. He wasn't really focused on the project, not even in the slightest - he just looked at you, his eyes big and wide filled with awe and appreciation that somehow you managed to be the one that was paired up with him.

The two of you were sitting on the floor of his dorm, a few stray pieces of clothes or pieces of paper scattered across the floor. Steve tried to clean up, he really did - but there is only so much you can do in 5 minutes.

He occasionally shifted his eyes down to the notebook infront of him, pretending to atleast do some work - his page was filled with scribbles of some notes, some doodles and now his pen was just absentmindedly scribbling across the page as he continued to keep up this facade.

You were on your computer infront of him, humming to yourself as you scrolled through presentation templates - he was mainly just looking at you know, his notebook discarded on his lap. He took note of your hair, which was down - some strands falling across your face that you had to tuck back behind your ear periodically. He wanted to do that, tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you how pretty you were and kiss you all over and--

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, I mean you two have solely talked over the presentation - nothing more, nothing least and yet he was nothing short of obsessed.

"We should play some music." Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, he then realised that you were looking straight at him - probably knowing that he's been staring at you for an unhealthy amount of time. "Hm?--" "Music, we should play some." "It's just.. awkward silence, and I want to know what kind of music you're into, Rogers." "Would you believe me if I said hard-core rap?" You stared at him for a moment, squinting your eyes as to figure out if he was serious or not - you'd giggle. "No-- not in a million years."

You put on some music on your computer, it was quiet - just so you could still hear eachother. "Thanks for letting me come over on such a short notice." "Yeah, yeah-- of course."

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The next day, Steve didn't see you - you guys didn't have Politics with each other, so he didn't even see you in the hallway, no awkward eye contact, no overcompensating conversations. He missed it, he missed talking to you and making you laugh.

That's when he saw his room-mate Sam walking down the hallway, he knew that you and Sam were close friends, closer than you and Steve ever were.

"Sam--" "Hey, Steve." Sam continued to walk, Steve caught up with him. "Uh-- you know that one girl, that I was talking about who's in my Politics class?" "Mhm.." "You're friends with her, aren't you?" "Steve, what's this about." "Nothing-- nothing, I just wanted to know what classes she's in." "You better not be trying to get into her pants, Rogers." "No-- no, god no. I just- want to see her more." "Sure." "I'm serious--" Steve stood infront of Sam, stopping him in his tracks. Sam sighed, "Alright fine-- just.. don't be weird about it- okay? I'll talk to her." "God-- thank you, thank you, thank you--" "You owe me, okay?"

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Later, Steve was in his dorm - scrolling through social media on his phone, when Sam walked in setting down his things. Steve looked up at him expectingly, that's when Sam sighed; pulling out a printed out copy of your college classes schedule.

"This is some weird stalker shit yknow--""Dude, shut up." "You must be crazy for this girl if you're literally forcing me to get her schedule.""I didn't force you-- you said you would." "It's still fucking weird, Steve."

His eyes skimmed over the piece of paper, noting that you had night literature class the next day - but that means that he would need to stay on campus hours after his classes just to remotely see you, but that's something he was willing to do.

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The next day, Steve was at the college - his classes have been over for hours now. He was waiting outside your Literature class, ensure how to pose himself. Should he like pretend to accidentally walk into you and be like "Oh, sorry-- I didn't I see you there." No-- no, that's weird. He opted to be pretending to be on his phone, looking busy. That's when people started filtering out of the class. Then he saw you - posing up against the wall.

"Steve?--" "Hm? Oh.. hey." "I thought your classes were over." "Uh-- no, no. Still here." "Well I was about to head to that café up the road.. do you wanna join me?" "Yeah.. I could eat." I could eat? God, his mouth speaks faster than his mind thinks sometimes, but even then he followed you like a lost puppy out of the english building at your college.

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The two of you filed into the cafe, it was late at night at this point - the moon replacing the sun and stars filling the sky. You sat down a booth. Steve ordered a coffee and one of the sandwiches on display while you ordered just a latte, already having eaten.

Awkward silence covered the two of you, your fingers drumming against the table while Steve ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the stubborn strays.

A waiteress came over, placing down the food and hot drinks - you muttered a thanks as she walked back the way she came. You took a sip of your drink - looking up at Steve hesitantly. This all suddenly felt real.

"What were you doing before I came out of class?" "Oh, y'know-- studying and stuff." "Mhm.." You smiled a bit, taking another sip of coffee - you didnt believe a word Steve had just said but you thought it was charming. "What? You don't believe me?" "Is this another add-on to the hard core rap thing?" "Very funny." He'd cross his arms, tilting his head at you. "What were you actually doing." He let out a sigh, thinking it was better to come clean. "Waiting for you.." "Waiting for hours on end for me?" Steve just shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "How'd you know where I was anyways?" "Hm?" He looked up at you, he definitely heard what you said - but as he asked again he silently hoped that the question you asked would miraculously change once he questioned you. "How'd you know where my literature class was.." "..I dont know-- Sam must've told me or something." "Oh shit, I forgot Sam was your roommate." You said with a chuckle taking a sip of your coffee. "Yeah.." "Wait, Sam told me yesterday that he needed my schedule like desperately.. was that you who needed it?" "Well-- well I wouldnt say I needed it like bad or anything--" "It actually was you?" "Well, yeah.. it was." "Why?" "I needed it so see when you were free for the project." "Bullshit--" "What?--" He chuckled, not seeming to get anything past you. "You're a pathological liar, Stevie." He smiled at the nickname, looking down at his coffee - biting his tongue between his teeth as he nodded. "Alright you caught me.." "Oh really?" "I just wanted to know when I could take you on a date." You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. "Smooth." Steve fiddled with the coffee mug, his attention solely focused on you - his gaze almost nervous. "What do you say?" "Walk me back to my dorm and I'll think about it." "..Alright." He stood up, paying for the food - practically ushering you out of the door.

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As the two of you walked across the campus, Steve noted how cold it was getting as December rolled near. His hands were shoved in his jacket pockets as he walked slowly beside you - watching as you looked up at the stars of the night sky. The two of you soon neared your dorm building, Steve dragged his hand out of his pocket, grabbing your hand before you could walk inside - his touch gentle and soft.

"You didnt expect me to just forget about the whole date thing did you?" "What, did it seem like I did?" "You're awfully silent, sweetheart.." The nickname just rolled of his tongue, spur of the moment. He watched as you moved closer to him, almost seeking warmth from in from the cold surroundings.

Steve then saw a snowflake fall down into your done-up hair, he then looked up and around - snow started to fall around the two of you. The whiteness coating the trees and the pavement, snow perching itself on each other's hair, shoes and shoulders.

Steve didn't even notice how your attention didn't divert away from him, your eyes still on his face as he looked around the environment. You then pulled him back to reality, back to you by grabbing his chin with your fore-finger and your thumb and tilting it back to face you. The two of you just stared into each other's eyes as you dragged your thumb across his soft bottom lip as you leaned up to place a kiss to his lips - a short and sweet one.

You'd move back down to the soles of your feet, looking up at him. "Was that dumb?--" He didn't even give a response, capturing you in another much needed kiss - filled with love and adoration. It's everything he's ever wanted all in one, your lips still tasting faintly of coffee and the lip balm you were wearing. A hand slipped to cup your face, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers that his wanted to touch and feel for the longest time. You didn't shy away, you didn't pull back, you kissed him back like you were waiting for this moment as much as he was.

As you both pulled back from the kiss, he noticed a single strand of hair that fell across your face - he then tucked it behind your ear, smiling widely down at you. Adoring the snowflakes adorning your hair and eyelashes as you looked at him with big wide eyes.

"I'd like that date.." "Yeah?" "Yeah.." "Cool." "Cool?-- that's all you're going to say?" You said with a giggle, as a sheepish smile adorned his face. "You're a dork, Steve." You then pulled him back into another short kiss, gripping onto his jacket.

You soon parted ways, as you entered your dorms he just stood there, grinning like an idiot - looking down at the snowy ground. His hands resumed their place in his jacket pockets as he walked back to his dorm building that was on the other side of the campus - but he was willing to make that walk everyday if it means seeing you.

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As Steve walked into his dorm, he took off his jacket and placed his keys near the door. That dorky smile still plastered on his face. Sam noticed almost immediately. "What's got you smiling?" "Nothing, it's nothing." Steve walked over to his bed, sitting down. "Did stalking really get you somewhere?" Steve smiled at him, before nodding - Sam's jaw dropped. "What?!--" "Okay so-- we went out to some cafe, we talked and then we walked back to campus and it started snowing and then we kissed." "Man, what the fuck-- why do you get a romance movie scenario for being a weirdo." Sam leaned back against the wall near his bed, crossing his arms. Steve just shrugged, looking down to the floor.

He was excited for that date, and just to see you again - see you smile, see you laugh because of him. And then he realised that his part of the politics project was due tomorrow and he barely made a dent in it because of him swooning over you, he couldn't have it all.

But he has you, and that's all he really cares about.

ARMED AND DANGEROUS

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

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also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

some things don’t change

in the past, when steve was smaller, bucky took pride and pleasure in being able to wrap all of steve up in just one arm.

now, even when steve has become the human dorito he is, bucky still takes pride and pleasure in being able to wrap his singular arm around steve’s waist.

“still counts,” he’d smirk and say. he could still hoist steve up with just that arm. and steve is still as warm and cuddly as before (now with the added bonus of some actual meat on his bones).

some things don’t change, and they of all people can appreciate that.

I don’t know what this is but it’s content of sorts lol

it's funny to me that the entry level requirement for being a good captain america is that you have to be in love with Bucky Barnes and that's why john walker was a shit one

What if I...

sketches