steve ham

2

These might be a little big to use as iPhone wallpapers but I had an idea and I ran with it. My love of Hamilton x Marvel is overwhelming and I’m sorry that all of my posts have been Hamilton x Marvel, I promise I will fix that soon haha. I will take any requests, and please follow my Hamilton page if you like this, @hamiltonlockscreens Thank you!

First Date With Steve

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Slight swearing? Listen, y’all know I love the f-bomb

Word count: 975

A/N: I’m swamped with work atm so my time to write is fairly limited. I hope this fluffy Steve fic will make your forgive me for my lack of posts. 

Originally posted by papertownsy

Keep reading

youtube

Born Ruffians B-Roll: Steve

CURED

Request by Anonymous: “Part 2 of infliction please?”

A/N: This sparked an idea in my head.  Hopefully that idea was a good one.

Dad!Steve x reader

Word count: 1172

Summary: Steve has found a solution to cure all his son’s illnesses!  But is it worth the risk of hurting your son further?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic illnesses, mentions of death, couples fighting (verbally), 

PART 1

(GIF not mine)

Originally posted by plumsandpie

Keep reading

It’s the same every time.  Arms cross over, fingers grasp the hem, then a flick of the shirt as it comes untucked, exposing a hint of adorable flat belly.  

Things would seem simple enough from there: pull shirt up, up, up and away. But no.  What happens next is Danny’s favourite part of the whole routine, although he could never admit this out loud – Steve gets lost in his tee.  Things are going fine, there’s rippling abs and flexing biceps, and then it all comes to a grinding stop.    

The shirt inevitably catches on Steve’s chin.  His face scrunches up, (adorably, dammit, Danny is so stupidly in love) and the arms start wiggling around, trying to work the shirt over his head.    

Once the shirt is eventually yanked free, there’s still the issue of the messy hair. Danny’s seen Steve emerge from his shirt looking like he’s been through a wind-tunnel, tufts of brown poking up all over the place, and Danny has to bite the inside of his cheek, to stop from smiling.  Every.  Single.  Time.    

Even now, after all of these years.    

“What’s that face for?” Steve asks suspiciously, peering through the evening light in their bedroom.  Now free, he’s clearly pleased as punch to be naked, and he launches his shirt at the hamper.

Danny pats the bed beside him.  He’ll never tell.  “Nothing, babe.  Nothing at all.”