#LDMWC

[all1e23]

Keeping Score [One-Shot]

Summary: After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Fake-Dating AU)

Warnings: Bucky being an adorable shit. That’s all.

A/N: This is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme Marvelous Writing Challenge. Happy Birthday, darling!! My prompt was Fake Dating &  “Look, I’ll give you $50 if you come with me to my family’s barbeque tomorrow so they’ll stop asking me when I’ll get a boyfriend.”  Moodboard  by @lokissoul. 

This weekend your sister was having her engagement party and you couldn’t be happier for her. There was no one you were happier for. Really. She found love and all that great, beautiful, wonderful, stupid bullshit. Great. Good for her. Deep down you were actually very happy for her. It was just deep, deep down. Attending her wedding meant you had to sit through an entire weekend of your family asking why you were still single and if you thought you would ever find someone who would want to marry you. It would be an entire year of event after event and you dreaded every single moment.

From the moment she told you she was engaged you decided there was no way in hell you were going alone. Even if you had get down on your knees and beg, you weren’t going alone. At this point, you weren’t above paying a stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Before you resorted to hiring someone from the sketchy section of the newspaper, you were going to beg your best friend until he felt so guilty he had to take you.

“Please, Steve. Please!” 

You sat up on the couch, your knees sinking into the cushions as you clutched his arms in an attempt to keep him from walking away. “You don’t understand how awful it is. The constant questions and the judgment.”

Steve smiled down at you in amusement but shook his head.

“I would go if I could. I can’t. I’ve got that meeting with the gallery in SoHo. I can’t miss it. You know I can’t.”

Ugh, right. You had forgotten about that. 

The slam from Bucky’s bedroom door made you glance up in time to see Bucky’s fists clenched at his side and didn’t miss the soft groan that fell from his lips when he spotted you. You had no idea what you did to piss off Steve’s roommate, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t stand you. It wasn’t like he was so great. Just a big, cranky pouty jerk who brought home countless women, and wasn’t attractive at all.  

He was just another unattractive jerk with beautiful blue eyes.

You tore your eyes from Bucky and looked back at Steve, mumbling under your breath as you endeavored to bait him, “I guess I can call one of those escort things.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and his ‘dad voice’ came out in full effect. “Uh, Y/n. No. You’re not allowed to pay some stranger to go on a date with you. I’d spend the whole weekend worried you were with some creep and I would end up having to cancel my show when you get murdered.” 

Bucky came around the corner with a freshly opened beer and grinned at you, a snarky and slightly satisfied twist to his lips you didn’t like. “What?” He teased. “Can’t get a date on your own? You gotta trick them with cash?”  

“For your information,” you snarked, narrowing your eyes at him as you sat back down with a huff. “I have to go to my sister’s engagement party this weekend. I need someone who can pretend to be my boyfriend. Not some random hook up. I’ve never had a problem in that department; thank you very much.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened a fraction before he rolled them dramatically and dropped down on the loveseat across from you. You didn’t have time to go back and forth with Bucky. This was your last chance! You stared up at Steve from the couch, serious look in her eyes. You were scraping the bottom of the pot at this point and you you only had one more to play. “Look, I’ll give you $50 if you come with me to my family’s barbeque,” you told him. ”I can’t handle another dinner where spend the entire night asking me when I’ll get a boyfriend.”

“Woah, Woah!” Bucky shouted as he jumped up and walked over to where you were kneeling on the couch. “If you’re paying someone, I’ll go.” 

Steve quirked his brow at his roommate, and Bucky shrugged. “Need the cash, Stevie. Not all of us are famous artists, okay?”

“You want to pretend to be my boyfriend?” You asked in disbelief. “You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me, and you want to pretend that you’re madly in love with me?”

Steve laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. He patted Bucky on the shoulder as he stood back up, grinning at the brunette as if he knew some secret you weren’t in on. “Bucky is a great actor. After this weekend, you might even think he is actually in love with you,” Steve joked and Bucky didn’t find it very funny.

Bucky yanked his shoulder away from Steve, grumbling, “Freaking punk. Wait…” His head snapped back to you. “The whole weekend? You said a barbeque!”

You smiled sweetly. If he wanted to play boyfriend you were than willing to torture him for the weekend. “Well,” you drawled with a mischievous look in your eye. “The barbeque is for my sister’s engagement, but we would have to go the whole weekend. It’s in Bar Harbor. In Maine. It’s like a nine-hour drive from Brooklyn, so we would have to leave Friday morning and do the whole weekend with my family.”

“Fine, but I want a hundred and fifty. Fifty bucks a day.”

“What?!” You screeched.

“Hey!” Bucky snapped and pointed his finger at you. “I have to pretend to be in love with you for three days. That’s worth than fifty bucks.”

“Two days.” You countered, glaring at him. “Friday is all driving, and Sunday we are leaving after lunch.”

Bucky groaned but nodded in agreement. “Okay. A seventy-five bucks plus unlimited road trip snacks and you got a deal.”

“Fine.” You, agree, shaking his outstretched hand with a forced smile. “Deal.“ 

Your feet were resting on the dash of Bucky’s car, tapping along to the song drifting through the speakers. “So,” you murmured as you bit off a piece of a gummy worm. “How did we meet?”

Bucky glanced at you over his sunglasses. There was a flash of something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place and he quickly looked back at the road before you could figure out what it was. 

“I don’t know,” Bucky answered, swatting at your feet. “Why don’t you just tell me what to say and I’ll say it. Can you get your freakin’ feet off the dash?”

“Are you always grumpy, or is it just around me?,” you asked, not expecting an answer.  You slid your feet off the dash and sat up straight, setting the bag of sweets between you while you come up with something believable. You didn’t really know what a first date with Bucky would be like. You’ve dreamt about it. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t. He was gorgeous and when he wasn’t being a complete dickhead he was actually pretty funny. He didn’t really do much other than get pizza and write. Your eyes lit up as you remembered an article you read about the best places in Manhattan. 

“How about we met through Steve because that’s not a total lie, and we’ve been dating for just a few months. We were friends first, then you asked me out and took me to Per Se. The night ended with a carriage ride around Central Park. We’ve been hooked at the hip ever since.”

Bucky grimaced and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s not our story.”

“What?” You shrieked with a soft laugh. “What do you mean that’s not our story.”

“No one is going to believe that.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m a struggling writer for one,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t have the cash to take to you to Per Se and there is no fuckin’ way I’m taking you to Per Se even if I had the cash. It’s not your taste.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting. “You don’t know anything about my taste James Barnes.”

He rolled eyes and glanced at you before settling his eyes back on the road. It was quiet for a few minutes before Bucky finally spoke. “Our first date was at Cacao Park in Red Hook. We did the chocolate and whiskey tour because you have an unusual obsession with chocolate, like an unhealthy love for it, and I’m never gonna pass up whiskey. After that, we grabbed dinner at Table 87 because their pizza is fuckin’ amazing. We walked along the Heights Promenade till dark, and then I took you home on the back of my bike because even though you say it scares you, you like how it feels to be a little out of control for once.”

For someone who acted like he hated you, Bucky sure knew how to get your heart thumping. You weren’t sure you could plan a date for yourself and have it end up that perfect. Bucky hit everything. Although you’re not sure, you agree with the whole bike thing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you could hold onto Bucky. Maybe. You blinked a few times before turning to look at him. 

“You just planned that all now? How the hell did you plan that so fast, and what makes you think I would like all that anyway?”

His sunglasses were back over his eyes and he was doing everything he could to keep you from seeing his face while still keeping his eyes on the road. Even with all that, you could tell he was nervous about something. 

“You pretend to like all that fancy shit,” Bucky said finally. “For your friends and your parents, but I know that’s not you. You want something simple. Someone who is gonna give you their attention. You like touch. Pretty easy to spot when you’re cuddled up with Steve all the time. You want someone’s time and affection. You want to be able to relax and laugh with them. The price tag doesn’t matter if it feels real.” 

You sat back in your seat and looked out the window at a lost for words. You had no idea what just happened but whatever it was had your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Okay.” You whispered, barely above the music. “That can be our story.”

When you pulled up to your parent's place you could have sworn Bucky was agitated. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack any minute. He kept fidgeting with the dark blue button-up shirt you picked out for him and he must have pulled his hair in and out of bun at least ten times. He finally ended up leaving it down and tucked behind his ears like you had suggested to begin with. At one point, you even heard him grumble: They aren’t gonna like me. I look like an accountant!

Of course, your sister’s fiancé was an accountant. You tried to calmly point that out to Bucky, but that only seemed to stress him out more because he was ‘just a broke writer.’ You couldn't really get why he was nervous. It wasn’t like any of this was real. At the end of the weekend, if your entire family hated him it wouldn’t make a difference.

All of this was one big façade, and he would be back to hating you by Monday morning. 

You were about to point that fact out to him when your parents came rushing out of the house tackling you in a huge hug. You laughed and made yourself as small as you could to fit in the middle of their double bear hug, catching a glimpse of Bucky fondly watching the display before him. After a few minutes you managed to wiggle your way out of your parent's hold and reached for Bucky’s hand, which he immediately took and brought up to his lips for a quick kiss to your knuckles.

Real smooth. You had to admit that it was a nice touch. Bucky was a real charmer.

“Mom. Dad.” 

You smile at them and look back at Bucky, crinkling your nose affectionately at him. “This is James Barnes. My… boyfriend.” 

Man, was that weird to say.

Your dad stepped forward and held out his hand, playfully eyeing him. “James.”

“Just Bucky, sir. No one, but my ma calls me James.” He shook his hand and kissed the back of your mother’s hand.

“Bucky? That’s an unusual name.” Your mother was starting already. Here we go. “When did the two of you meet?”

“Mom!” You snapped as gently as you could. “Can we get inside and put our bags down before you start to interrogate him, please?”

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, darlin’. How about I grab our bags, and then you can spend the rest of the night questioning me?” 

“Oh, I like him already, sweetheart.” She winked at Bucky and waved for him to follow her. “Come on. I’ll show you where the two of you are gonna be sleeping.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze before letting go to grab your bags, following your mom into the house, leaving you alone with your dad.

“So, Bucky, huh?”

You glanced up at your dad and smiled, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Don’t be too hard on him. Let’s not scare him off before Aunt Lydia gets a hold of him, okay? I kind of want to see him try to dodge her kisses.”

He stuck out his tongue in disgust at the thought, his arm landed around your shoulders, and he guided you into the house. “Always on the mouth with that one. I swear. Well, if he can survive those, he’s the one baby. Don’t let him go.”

The entire dinner went off without a hitch. Of course, it was just the pre-game. The opener before the front-runner goes on. The big event was tomorrow.  Tonight he only had to impress, or fool, your parents and your sister. That would be nothing compared to the number of judgmental family members he had to win over and convince tomorrow. It shouldn't be too hard. Bucky was great at pretending he didn’t actually hate you every other day of the year. He even managed to convince your mother that he was hopelessly in love with you.

“A whiskey and chocolate tour?” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t they have hundreds of nice restaurants in New York.”

You opened your mouth to tell her how rude that was. You loved your first date, and she could shut the hell up! Well, it wasn’t actually your first date, but you loved that idea for a first date. Before you could tell her to quit being a prude, Bucky laughed and gently pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm.

“There are lots of good places, but they are all the same. Nothing unique about ‘em. And, Y/n is anything but ordinary, so I wasn’t about to take her on some ordinary date she’s been on before.” He looked at you, smiling fondly. The warmth and softness in his eyes had your heart racing. Has he always looked at you like that?

Nope, it was all fake. It’ was fake. Fake. Fake. Fake!.

You were so wrapped up in the way he was looking at you that you didn’t even hear your parents telling you they were heading up to bed. You only noticed because your dad flicked the lights off in the living room, leaving you alone in the dark.

“Save it for the bedroom kids.” Your father snarked on his way towards their bedroom. Bucky chuckled and stood up, holding his hand out for yours. 

“Come on, beautiful. We should probably get some sleep too. Tomorrow is the big day.” His fingers laced with yours, and he tugged you along towards your bedroom upstairs, and you could have sworn he blushed when you took his hand.

Fake! Fake! Fake!

The door to your bedroom closed behind you, and you both relaxed, letting go of the tension from having to put on the big show. Bucky slowly let go of your hand and kicked his shoes off before he began digging through his suitcase. He pulled his sweats out of the bag and tossed them on the queen bed in the middle of the room.

Did he actually think you were sleeping together? He was, sadly, mistaken.

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, gesturing towards his sweats.

“Gettin’ ready for bed. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You can’t sleep in here. There is only one bed.”

Bucky unbuttoned the last button on the shirt that you had forced him to wear this morning in an attempt to please your parents. It was the very same shirt he later panicked about, and your mother had complimented him on. He let his shirt hang open as he slowly sauntered towards you. You couldn’t help but stare at his naked chest, peeking out from the opening in his shirt.

Your mouth had gone completely dry, and your room felt hot. 

He curled his finger under your chin and titled your head, pulling your eyes from his chest. Bucky licked his lips and smirked at the want in your eyes and smirked. “Okay, darlin’. You go downstairs and ask your mom if there is another room for the boyfriend you’re so madly in love with.”

You stomped your feet and groaned, “Fine. Fine.”

Bucky grinned and gently brushed his knuckles down your arm. “Come on, Y/n. It won’t be so bad.” 

So he could be sweet under all that cocky bravado.

“As long as you don’t snore like a freight train.” 

And he was back.

“You’re such a jerk.” You grumbled as you push him away from you, slipping your sweatshirt on over your t-shirt. There was no way you were getting naked in front of him. You narrowed your eyes as he watched you and motioned for him to turn around. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned around while you did the same. You both got dressed in silence with your back turned towards each other.

“Did you ever stop to wonder that maybe that’s why you don’t have a girlfriend? Maybe if you were nicer, you wouldn’t have just had a whole weekend free to pretend to be someone’s boyfriend. You could actually be the boyfriend.”

“I’ve got plenty of women to spend my nights with. Ever think maybe I don’t want more than that?” He asked as he climbed into bed and pulled the blanket down for you to get in.

The thought of Bucky spending his nights with a horde of different women sent a stab of jealousy into your chest, and you didn’t like that one bit. You shouldn’t be jealous if he were sleeping with every woman in Brooklyn, He’ was not yours, and you didn’t even like him! He was rude and selfish and dumb and handsome and sweet, and somehow he was the absolute softest when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“You gonna come to bed or just stare at me?” 

He just had to go and run it every chance he got. Your eyes narrowed at him as you laid down on the bed in your childhood bedroom, staying as close to the edge as you could without falling off or touching him. 

“You’re taking up too much of the bed... “ You grumbled as he pulled the blanket up to your neck, hiding your chest.

Bucky sighed and shoved you just a tad with his hip. “I’m all the way at the edge. How much further do you want me to go?”

You nudged him his your foot and smiled. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

He wiggled over and bumped you with his hip, nearly making you fall off the bed. 

“Hey!” You snapped in a harsh whisper.

“This is ridiculous. C‘mere.” Bucky reached over and pulled you against him, so your arms were smashed up against each other. 

“It’s for two nights. Just pretend the sight of me doesn’t make you sick so we can sleep, okay?” The pained tone in his voice made your heartache. Did he really think the sight of him made you sick?

“You don’t make me sick, Buck…”

There was a long stretch of quiet before you heard a soft, “I meant what I said to your mom tonight. You’re anything but ordinary, Y/n.”

---------------------

There were soft laughter and buzz of excited chatter coming through the thin walls of your parent's home as you began to stir early Saturday morning. The air around you was thick, and you were hot for some reason. It wasn’t this hot when you went to bed. You stretched as the smell of coffee slipped through the crack under the door, and you sighed contently.

It was nice to be back home. You only manage to go home once or twice a year, so it wasn’t so bad waking up to your dad’s loud booming laugh every now and then. You rolled over to bury your face in your pillow, but it wasn’t your pillow. Two massive arms wrapped around you and tightened their hold on your waist -- That was right. You went to bed with Bucky. 

As if on cue, Bucky buried his face in your hair and took a deep inhale of your shampoo. Your entire body stiffened as his hands settled on your lower back. This was why you didn’t want to sleep in the same bed! 

His-- his hands!

You slowly rolled to your side, not even bothering to fight the smile tugging at your lips. Bucky’s dark locks were laying over his face, his scruff had grown in just a touch more, and you caught little strands of grey standing out among the dark brown. He looked so peaceful it was almost painful to wake him. You shifted towards him, and his arms tightened around you again.

“Buck…” You whispered, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. His nose wrinkled as the strands tickled him, making you bite back a giggle.

“Hey. It’s morning, Bucky.” You tried a bit louder. “It’s time to get up.” Your foot wrapped around his leg as you nudged him gently. Bucky slowly stirred and rolled onto his back, releasing you so his hand could rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“I never thought you would want…” He mumbled still half-asleep and eyes closed. “Thought you always… With Stevie.”

What in the world was he talking about? You placed your hand on his jaw, making him look at you. “Are you awake yet? I have no idea what you’re mumbling about, but we have to go down and see my parents. The party is today.”

The hand on your waist suddenly tensed and was quickly pulled off you. Bucky opened his eyes to find you lying nearly on top of him, and he scrambled out of bed, pulling his arm out from under your head. He was up and out of bed so fast his legs were still tangled in the sheets, and it had him hopping towards the bedroom door as he tried to get himself untangled.

“I-- I um, I’m sorry about that. I was asleep, and I sleep like a damn koala. I didn’t know what I was doing or sayin’...”

You did your best to hide the hurt on your face. Jesus, he hated you that much that waking up with you made him fly to the other side of the room in disgust?

“O-oh. Okay.”

What else should you say? Sorry that I completely grossed you out, and I’m sorry you were stuck spending the rest of the day pretending to be hopelessly in love with me when you were clearly repulsed by me? You just sat in silence as you watched him gather up his clothes and scurry into the bathroom.

He couldn’t get away from you fast enough.

When Bucky met you at the top of the stairs ten minutes later showered and dressed, he was back to his calm and collected self. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing his leather jacket over one of the several button-up shirts you bought for him to wear this weekend. That little bit of time away from you clearly did him well.

His eyes fell onto the light blue knee-length wrap dress you had on, and it looked like he had the wind knocked out of him. He whistled lowly and shot you a wolfish grin. 

“Damn. You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You wanted to be mad at him, upset that he needed to be away from you so badly he ran from the room, but it was hard to be mad when he was looking at you like that. Your shaking hands smoothed over your dress. “Oh, um. Thank you.” You glanced around you, but no one was there. It was just two of you as you took each step of the stairs in unison. 

“There is no one around. You don’t have to pretend right now.”

“I wasn’t pretending.” He whispered into your ear as you reach the end of the stairs. Despite the ache in your chest from earlier, you didn’t have to force your smile. He smiled back, and was that blush on his cheeks?

No, no. No, it’s just hot in here. Really, really hot in here.

“Game face on, babydoll.”

“There are the love birds.” Your mother sang happily as the two of you entered the kitchen, handing you both a cup of coffee. 

“You would think we were all here for your wedding, not your sisters.” You choked on your coffee and looked up at your mother, eyes wide and panicked.

 “Mom! You can’t just say that…”

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kissed to your temple.

 “Not like I haven’t thought about being married to you, doll.” He whispered so softly it was clearly meant for your ears only, but you knew your mother heard it.

 “I guess I’ll see what the men are doing out back? See you in a little bit, sugar.” He winked at you and headed out back, leaving you completely stunned.

Why on earth would he say that if he had only intended on you hearing it? Or maybe he knew your mom could hear his whispers. Yeah, that had to be it. He wanted it to seem like a sweet moment between a happy couple. It was part of the facade for your family.

Entirely and utterly fake.

“The way he looks at you, baby… It’s only a matter of time before it’s your turn.”

 Your head snapped back to look at your mother.

‘What? No. No.” You stuttered helplessly, trying to find a reason to deny what she was saying. There would be no wedding, and in a few weeks, she was going to have to say they broke up. There would never be a wedding. Not with him, at least.

“He doesn’t look at me like that. It’s not like that. He just doesn’t - I’m not.” Your mother raised her brow, and you sighed in defeat. “I mean, like that right now. We are not ready. I think that step is a long time away.”

“Maybe you’re not ready, but he’s ready. You can see how much he loves you every time he looks at you, sweetheart. You can’t force that kind of affection.”

You turn your head to find Bucky already watching you from outside, laughing at what you are sure is the lamest joke ever judging by the way your father is doubled over laughing. His smile widened when your eyes locked, and your heart began to race. You didn’t like it one bit. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You did like it. You’ve always liked the way your heart raced around him. Even when he was avoiding you.

After tomorrow night, though, everything would be back to normal. Bucky would go back to hating you and sleeping with half of Brooklyn.

The only difference now, the thought made you ache in a way you’ve never felt before.

---------------------

“It’s not funny! Mom said it in front of him! We had been awake maybe twenty minutes, and she’s picking out wedding venues. Stop laughing!” You scold your sister as you both break down in a fit of laughter.

“Can you blame her? You never bring a man home and then you bring him home? He’s gorgeous, sweet, laughs at dad's dumb jokes, and he looks at you like you hung the freaking moon. Seriously. There are like sixty people in our backyard right now, and you’re all that boy sees.”

You rolled your eyes. If only she knew the truth. Bucky was just good at playing this little game. In reality, he didn’t want to be anywhere near you.

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” Bucky asked as you feel a warm large hand slip around your waist and pull you into him. Your sister glanced down at his arm and then back at you with a smirk on her face.

“I better go make some rounds.” She grinned at the two of you and wandered off into the crowd leaving the two of you alone. Bucky gave your side a gentle squeeze and smiled at him.

“So? You gonna tell me what’s so funny?”

It’s fake. It’s fake. It’s fake. FAKE!

“Oh, nothing, my mom was just saying that she thought we were next to get married. That the way you look at me, there is no way it couldn’t be real.” You chuckled nervously. 

“If only she knew how much you actually hate me.”

Bucky tensed next to you, and his hand slowly fell from your side.  “I don’t hate you. I’ve never… you know what. Just forget it.”

“Wait…” Your eyes scanned over him. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists at this side, and you have never seen that scowl on his face before.

“Are you - Are you mad at me?”

“I said, forget it, Y/n. Just spend some time with your family. I need a minute.”

He pushed his way through the massive crowd of your family, but there was no way you could miss him. His hair was tossed up in a small bun at the base of his neck, and he was taller than almost everyone around him. You waited a few minutes before you followed after him, assuming he went up to hide in your bedroom.

You were right. 

The door to your bedroom closed behind you, and you leaned back against it, watching him for a moment. He didn’t look any calmer. He looked pissed, and you didn’t understand what he had to be so mad about. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known how he felt about you. It was bad enough you were in love with him, and he hated you.

Did he have to make it so damn complicated?

“I don’t get why you are mad at me.” You murmured softly. “You can barely stand to be in a room with me. You complain every time I come over to see Steve. You actually groan when you come out of your room and see me sitting on the couch. I hear you. It’s not like you even want to get married. I’ve seen how many women you bring home.”

Bucky turned around, but he didn’t look as mad anymore. Under all the anger, there was a tiny bit of hurt in his eyes.

“Did you ever stop to wonder why that was Y/n?” Bucky shouted in frustration. “Did you ever stop to ask yourself why I find it so hard to be around you? Or why I jump from woman to woman to woman? Ever wonder why the hell they all look like you?”

“I.. I don’t understand.”

‘Christ…” Bucky muttered angrily. He stared up at the ceiling as if he was begging for strength. 

“You being a manwhore is somehow my fault?” You had finally snapped. “And in all that, I didn’t hear you denying the fact.”

“I’m in love with you!” He yelled back.

The angry confession brought your fighting to a quiet end as you both stared at each other. Bucky looked pained, exhausted from the admission, and a little scared. You weren’t sure what he was scared of, his confession, or your reaction.

“What did you just say to me?”

Bucky slowly made his way across the room, meeting you in the middle of your bedroom.

“I’m in love with you.” He breathed quietly. 

 “I get upset when you come over because it kills me not to be able to touch you how I want. I hate watching you cuddle up to Steve during your little movie nights. It makes me want to break his damn jaw.”

“You want to break his jaw just for touching me?”

 A low growl slipped from his lips, his hands were on your the moment you were in arms reach pulling you against him.

 “Thought he was your best friend.” You gasped, fighting the grin tugging at your lips.

“Won’t be for much longer; he keeps touchin’ you like that.” He grunted.

“No more girls?”

“No more girls.” He promised. 

“They were a sad stand-in for you.  You’re the only one I want to spend my nights with, sweet cheeks. Even when you're a pain in the ass.”

You pressed your chest against his and gripped his biceps to help steady yourself now that your knees had gone weak.

 “So what do we say to everyone? I mean… everything we told them was fake, and Steve will know! And-- and-” He grinned and cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer as you continued on.

 “And your mom! Our parents are going to talk. They will all know we lied!”

“Good lord.” Bucky groaned. “Just shut up, would ya?”

Before you had a chance to start yelling, he swooped in and captured your lips, pressing you against him. You sank into the kiss, and thankfully the arm was around your waist; you would have melted right onto the floor. He nipped at your bottom lip and slowly pulled back, bumping his nose against yours.

“It was the first date idea that made you fall in love with me, wasn’t it?”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I loved you way before that, Buck. You’ve had me before you even knew you did.“

“Darlin’ you’ve had me since the moment you said my name.” He slowly pulled you back towards him, till your lips were barely touching and whispered, “Okay, this can be our story.”

#LDMWC #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #fake dating au

[irish-trash-cash]

Sweat and Ash (Loki x Reader)

A smutty oneshot I wrote for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvel writing challenge. The reader is written as an Asgardian, and the God/Goddess of Fire. The fic doesn’t really take place at any point in the Thor/Avengers movies’ timelines, so you’re welcome to interpret it how you like. I hope you all enjoy the fic, and as always let me know what you think and if you want me to write anything else.

Warnings: Smut, slight dom/sub, slightly sub Loki, choking, MAJOR temperature play, long-harbored feelings, and Thor being a sweetheart.

Words: approx. 2,800

Prompt: “Why aren’t you dating him/her?” “Because I’d destroy him/her.” “I think he/she’d be into that.”

-----

“Why aren’t you two dating?”

You choked on your beer and whacked Tony on the arm in retaliation before letting out a gasping “What?”

“You were staring again,” Thor noted from the seat next to him, and Tony nodded with a smile, gesturing toward where you’d been staring at Loki, seated across the living area with his nose in a book, his features beautifully highlighted by the blue glow of the Earthen sporting game playing on the wall.

“I thought it’d be obvious.” You said with a laugh, glancing at Loki once more before turning back to the men before you. “He’s a Frost Giant. I’m the God of Fire.”

“So?” came Tony’s reply, punctuated by the raise of his eyebrows above his glasses.

“Stark, I’d destroy him, whether I meant to or not. You know how bad it can get.” You explained.

“Fair point there, Fire Lord.” Tony said with a nod, using one of his many nicknames and raising his drink in a mock toast.

The conversation died there, and the three of you fell back into a comfortable silence as the afternoon droned on. You hoped that’s where the conversation would end at least. You had moved across the kitchen to grab another beer when Thor approached you, leaning on the refrigerator door with a giant smirk.

“You should know, I think Loki would be into that,” He said with a smile, “What you’d said earlier, you know, the whole ‘you destroying him’ thing.” With that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes in response, as you leaned against the counter opposite of him and twisted the top off of another beer.

“Thor, we’ve known each other since we were kids,” You began, gesturing between the two of you. “If Loki wanted me to court him, he would have done or said something about it by now.”

“All our lives he’s sat and watched you from a distance just like you do with him- it is rather poetic really.” Thor said with a smile, almost completely ignoring what you’d just said to him. You decided to sneak a sideways glance at Loki and sure enough, he was intently watching you and Thor talk, under the guise that he was still reading his book.

“What are you getting at Thor?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned back to Thor. “If he’s just stood by and watched me for all this time what’s going to make him act any differently now?”

“This.” Thor stated plainly, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you against his chest before sealing your lips with a kiss.

You weren’t in any way mad about this- if anything it was a welcome surprise. But Thor was your best friend, and although you would admit he was strikingly attractive, he wasn’t Loki, so as soon as the kiss began, you made a move to push yourself away from him. You didn’t get the chance to, however, as you felt a hand grip your shoulder and pull the two of you apart.

“What in Valhalla are you doing?” Loki practically hissed, glaring at Thor as he pointed a dagger at his chin.

“I was just embracing our dear old friend Y/N.” Thor said innocently, a knowing grin plastered on his face. Oh gods, Thor what did you do? You thought, giving him a look as he stared back at his brother with a smile.

“Right,” Loki hissed, and swiftly turned to you, grabbing you by the arm and moving out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“What has gotten into you!” You said angrily, yanking your arm away and glaring at him furiously. You had to remind yourself not to get too upset, as you could feel your hands warming up the more you thought about the situation.

“You think I don’t see your stares, but I know.” Loki said breathlessly, turning around and caging you against the wall, a devilish look in his eyes.

“It’s not like I was trying to hide it, Loki,” came your reply. You crossed your arms as you stared right back. “You know what would happen if we did anything.”

Loki smirked at this and pressed himself into you. The thought of Thor and the others being just down the hall sent a shiver down your spine. Just thinking of all the wicked things you and Loki could do just around the corner from everyone.

“Fire and ice mean nothing to me darling, I could still ruin you.” Loki spoke, his voice just barely a whisper as he took your chin in his long fingers and angled your face towards his. He stopped there, however, as if asking for your permission- making sure this was what you wanted.

You stood there for a moment, mindless thoughts racing through your head of all the times you would watch him gracefully flitting about during a battle, watching those deft fingers work magic and spin daggers, wondering what those skilled fingers would feel like against your skin, around your neck, inside your… By the Nine, you thought.

In a heartbeat you grabbed the back of Loki’s neck and pulled him into you, lips teeth and tongues clashing in a frenzied kiss. One of his hands trailed to the small of your back, tugging your hips forward into him as he pushed you further into the wall. The kiss broke when you gave a rough tug to his hair, pulling your heads apart with a mutual gasp for breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” Loki breathed, allowing his lips to dip down and trail along your ear, licking the lobe before moving to your neck and biting harshly. You let out a gasp at this and tugged him closer.

“We’re not doing this out here, Loki- Stark’s got cameras all over the building.” You said, almost threatening as you inadvertently looked back down the hall where the others were.

“We’ll have to give him a good show then,” Loki replied, and you could feel him smirk against your neck as he did. Although the thought was indeed enticing, you weren’t keen on having anyone confront you about your and Loki’s long-anticipated consummation, so you decided to take action.

In one swift movement you slipped out of his grasp and marched further down the hall, Loki trailing behind you with a muttered apology leaving his lips. As if I could be mad at him for this. You thought.

“Y/N, God of Fire” you spoke, placing your hand on the pad near the door to your room. After a moment the system responded, opening your door with a swift “Welcome, Magic the Gathering.”

Loki was on you as soon as you closed the door, lean arms holding you against the paneling as his teeth sank into your neck.

“You’re a bastard you know that.” You said with a gasp, reaching forward to undo the buttons of his coat and push off his shoulders before shoving him backwards, his knees bending when they hit your bed, allowing him to fall back onto his elbows. “Take those off,” You demanded, gesturing toward him, and Loki smirked.

“I’d much rather you take them off me, pet.” He hummed, letting his tongue stick out to lick his bottom lip. You clenched your jaw at this, halting the process of taking off your own clothes and grabbing him by the collar, tugging him back to a standing position before placing your palm against his chest.

“You say you care not for fire and ice,” you began, bringing Loki’s face close to yours, lips grazing his as his suit jacket and shirt began to glow and turn to ash before you. Loki smirked and pulled you backwards, landing your back on the bed as he pulled out a dagger and sliced your shirt in two, sending buttons flying across the bed and leaving a long slice in the skin below your collarbone. He lent down to capture your lips once more before moving down and sucking hard on the wound, licking at your blood as if it were his life source.

You undressed him quicker now, your hands feverishly pulling at his belt before your magic spread to his pants. It would only be a matter of time before those were gone so you decided to focus on him, running your now glowing hands down his torso and watching as the parts of him you touched steamed and faded from blue to pale as the touches cooled down.

“Mmm, my brother was right you know.” Loki spoke, looking up at you with darkened eyes, his raven hair hanging down to frame his perfectly angled face.

“What? That you’ve been wanting to court me for years now?” You asked, a smirk forming on your face as Loki slowly peppered kisses down your neck, tongue licking down your chest, giving your hips a squeeze as he moved down to your stomach.

“Darling you have no idea,” Loki replied with a devilish grin, undoing your belt and pulling at your jeans. You started to lose all semblance of self-control then as Loki moved himself to stand between your legs, deft hands feeling your waist and thighs before lifting his hands and twisting them before you, letting you watch as his eyes turned red and the skin from his fingers to his forearm went blue.

You sat up then, reaching to take his hands in yours and trace the etch-like patterns across the skin. Loki watched intently as you did so, both of you marveling at the steam that rose from the connection of your fiery hands and his icy skin. It sent a feeling down your body and straight to your core. Loki seemed to get the idea and moved his hands down to your body, hesitating for a moment before placing them on your hips, the hiss of steam causing him to jump, as if afraid of hurting you.

“I tried to once, you know- court you, that is.” You spoke up, your noses grazing as he trailed his hands up and down your abdomen, softly thumbing your chest, giving your thighs a good squeeze…

“The feast after that battle in Niflheim,” Loki interrupted. “You wore my colors- I could never take my mind off that dress.” He confessed, and you smiled, allowing your eyes to close for a moment to remember it all. “I distinctly remember wanting to tear the damn thing off and take you on the table in front of everyone.” He added.

Your eyes opened at this, and you cursed to yourself as you realized that for a moment you’d forgot about the situation at hand, and decided then that you needed to do something besides just lie there.

Digging your heels into the bed you lifted your hips, grabbing Loki by the hair as you turned him over and kissed him, cold lips burning against your own as he tugged you to straddle his hips, hands moving with you as you ground down onto him. You batted his hands away, grabbing them by the wrists and holding them above his head as you went to work on his neck. Loki was a moaning mess within seconds of your hot lips pressing against his neck and chest, biting and sucking until the skin was peppered in beautiful bruises and burns.

You allowed him to wiggle one of his hands loose then and Loki immediately put it to work, cupping your hot sex and without hesitation, pushing two very cold fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, Y/N” Loki gasped, snide comments silenced as you put a hand around his throat. Meanwhile he rubbed you in slow circles as you ground your hips into his freezing hand. He kept a steady pace, fast enough to build you up but just slow enough that you couldn’t find your release.

Loki let out a strangled groan as you pushed his hand away and sank down onto him. You both tried to choke back a moan but the stimulation was too much, and you couldn’t help but moan into Loki’s neck as you took all of him in. You’d had sex with others before but this was so different. The ash and frost covering the bed sheet, lingering in the air, gathering in Loki’s hair as he pulled your body down into his, moaning your name as his hands left burns on your back, steaming up the room even more.

You wasted no time in waiting for adjustments and lifted your hips, sinking back down onto him in one swift motion that left you both gasping and scratching at one another. Another moan left your lips as Loki lifted his thighs and met you halfway, moving your hand from his throat to his chest where the skin steamed and left a perfect imprint of your hand on his pectoral. After all those years of yearning and watching, you finally had Loki at your mercy.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Loki grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto your side, standing from the bed and tugging your legs apart before nestling his hips between them. He bent forward then, slowly pushing himself into you, teasing you with his cock as he leaned in to connect his lips with yours.

“You’re stunning, you know that.” Loki breathed, his cold breath forming a cloud of condensation on your neck as he pistoned his hips, thrusting sharply into you as his eyes come up to meet your gaze. Loki then mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear, and continued to move his hips against yours, faster now- a pace matching the seconds ticking from the clock on the wall.

“You going to ruin me like you said you would?” You asked, a wolfish grin forming on your face, and you could swear a haze went over Loki’s eyes as you said that, that both scared you and turned you on even more.

Loki brought his hand up around your throat, cold fingers wrapping tightly around your neck as he choked you slowly, paying attention to every breath you took and the rise and fall of your chest. Your breath mingled as you pulled him closer, lips and teeth clashing once more as he slowly suffocated you, muffling your moans. You could feel yourself approaching your climax as flashes of heat and flame licked at your body. You breathlessly gave Loki a warning as not to hurt him but he didn’t care- he only leaned in closer to you, still keeping his brutal pace, his hand squeezing ever harder around your throat.

In an instant you arched into him, letting yourself fall over the edge as your mouth opened in a silent scream. Your body felt like it was on fire, and you were sure the temperature was too much for Loki to take, but he seemed to be enjoying it, panting and moaning above you for a moment before gasping wildly, capturing your lips in one last kiss before pulling out of you and finishing over your stomach.

He stayed above you for a moment, breath fogging the air as he stared into your eyes. Without thinking you sat up and kissed him- it wasn’t like any of the other kisses you’d shared that night though, this was different. This was soft. The heat of your body was dissipating, and you welcomed the chill touch of his lips against yours, just a simple kiss. Something you’d been waiting a long time to share with him.

“I’m sorry I-” you began, lifting a hand to hover over his chest, but Loki stopped you, moving to sit beside you and place your hand in his.

“They’ll heal, with time.” He said with a nod, and with a wave of his hand Loki conjured a beer, handing it to you with a smile.

“Alright then,” you started, taking a swig from the bottle before setting it on the bedside table. “Loki, Prince of Asgard, Odinson- will you accept my humble request of courtship.” You finished, taking both his hands in yours as you stood and bowed before him.

Loki chuckled at that, and you swear it was the most handsome you’d ever seen him, hair a mess, body covered in sweat and ash, green eyes sparkling, and a smile on his face- you loved him beyond compare.

“I will.”

#loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki imagine #writing challenge #marvel writing challenge #loki #rhiannon writes #LDMWC

[ellie-scribble]

Ruin Me

A Bucky x Reader fic written for @littledarlinhavefaithinme‘s marvelous writing challenge. I had the prompt:

“Why aren’t you dating him/her?”

“Because I’d destroy him/her.”

“He’d/She’d be into that.”

Summary: You want Bucky Barnes to ruin you, and he wants to ruin you. You let your best friend Nat know this, and she tries her hardest to get you together. Some mutual pining and minor angst?

Warnings: Smut. That’s what this fic is. Language, I guess? Is thigh-riding a warning? Yeah, that’s it.

Word Count: 3441. oops. i went a little overboard

A/N: this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so I hope it’s alright. feedback would be great. if you want a playlist to listen to, I listened to this while writing it. the gif isn’t mine.

“Okay, okay. Barnes, Rogers, Wilson.”

You and your favorite Avenger, Nat, were currently playing fuck, marry, kill at 3 a.m. in her room. You had recently joined the Avengers and had become fast friends with this feisty redhead. You’d probably be into her- if it weren’t for your current obsession with another Avenger.

“Fuck Barnes, marry Rogers, and kill Wilson,” you respond, almost too quickly.

“Barnes, eh?”

Your cheeks redden slightly, but you don’t back down, “Have you seen those thighs? He could strangle me with them and I’d thank him.”

“Are you ever gonna do anything about that? It’s pretty clear that he’s into you too-”

“First of all, not true. Second of all, I don’t have the balls to do anything about it,” you reply. You and Bucky have had this thing going on. You would flirt back and forth all the time, you would sit by each other on movie nights, and you worked flawlessly together on missions. But whenever things got too serious, he would back off.

“This is coming from the person who told the leader at HYDRA to, and I quote, ‘suck my dick and choke on it, I’m a fucking avenger.’” Nat did have a point. During missions, you tended to have quite the filthy mouth. Steve may not have like Tony’s language, but boy did he hate yours.

“That’s different. I want him to literally ruin me, but if he doesn’t want to-”

“He does,” Nat interjected, “And I’m going to prove it to you.”

“Nat-,” you warned.

“Y/N, if you won’t do anything about your obsession with Bucky Barnes, I will. I know all about your freaky sex kinks-”

“They’re not that weird,” You try to interrupt.

“-And I will willingly play your wingwoman for Barnes,” she finished with a flourish. You sit back on the couch, pondering what this means. Will you finally get to fuck the super soldier who’s been haunting your dreams? To be completely honest with yourself, you had been hoping someone would do something to help your relationship with Bucky move along.

Thank god for redhead assassins.

Sam picked the movie of the night. Sam being Sam chose How to Train Your Dragon. When you arrived in the mini-theatre, almost everyone was there already. Sam was standing by the tv, fiddling with the cable box while Tony stood next to him, assumingly making sure he didn’t break anything. Steve and Wanda were setting up the usual snack table, complete with salty popcorn and tons of alcohol. Nat was seated next to Bucky on the loveseat and was talking softly to him. It seemed normal, but then you remembered the conversation you had had yesterday.

Oh shit.

When Nat saw you come in, she stood up and moved to sit next to Steve, opening up the seat next to Bucky. She knew what she was doing.

“Y/N, come sit by me.” Bucky waved you over, and you mentally prepared yourself for another night of teasing, with no real outcome. As soon as Clint arrived, the movie was started and opened up onto a dark island with Hiccup voice-over.

“You’ve seen this before, doll?” Bucky whispers in your ear. You almost shiver, like you usually do when he calls you that.

“Yeah, it came out like, 10 years ago. The third one is coming out soon,” you whisper in return. When you originally met Bucky, you had made it your goal to educate him on the most important things that had happened while he was gone. This meant many late nights spent with just him watching old Disney movies and reruns on the tv. How to Train Your Dragon was on the list of things for him to watch, but you were still working through movie musicals. Bucky’s favorite so far was Newsies, because of obvious reasons. He said that Steve was just like that Spot Conlon guy, except people weren’t afraid of him.

“I see. Was this on our watch list?” Bucky asks, scooting closer to you. Your thighs are touching. Just yesterday you were talking with Nat about how you’d love to ride those thighs into the sunset. Your face turned beet red at the thought and you coughed to cover up any noise you might have made. “You okay, doll?” Bucky asked, concern written all over his face. He placed his hand on your thigh, which only made you blush harder. You silently thanked Tony for the dark room.

“Yup. 100% okay. Couldn’t be okay-er.” That sounded normal. Way to go Y/N. Bucky turned back to watch the movie, but thankfully didn’t lift his hand from your leg.

For the rest of the movie, Bucky occasionally leaned over to whisper comments into your ear, but that was normal. By the end of it, you and Bucky were basically cuddling, which only made you more frustrated. Sexually and emotionally. The credits rolled and the lights were turned back on, which brought groans from everyone.

“Who’s up for some drinks?” Nat asks, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m gonna head to my room, I’m tired,” you say, knowing Nat has something planned. Clint nods along, and Tony and Wanda make their way out of the room as well.

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun!” Now Nat was desperate. She wanted you to stay, and to be honest? You were terrified of what lengths she would do to get you and Bucky to get together by the end of the night. But, on the other hand, you were also terrified of what she would do if you didn’t get with him. So, you stayed.

“Fine, but only 2 drinks,” conceding to her plans. She gave you a wink and started to speak again.

“Alright, how about we play a little game? Truth or dare, huh?” Uh oh. She’s definitely got plans for you and Bucky.

“I don’t know if it’s changed from my time, but I’m in,” Steve says. He had no idea what was coming. Natasha smirked at his response, and he noticed. “Well you just have to tell the truth or do something, right?”

“Sure, Steve. Sure.” Sam was gonna torture Steve and Bucky. Those super soldiers may have been ready for anything on the battlefield, but drunk truth or dare with Nat? No fucking way.

“Alright, rules are as follows: you say truth, you gotta tell the truth, dare, you have to do it, and if you can’t, you drink. Got it?” We all reply a short ‘got it’ so that Nat is satisfied. “Alright, I’ll go first. Steve! Truth or dare?”

“Truth, I guess. I have nothing to hide.” That was a mistake.

“Okay, goody-two-shoes, who and when was your last good fuck?” Steve spit out the sip he had taken from his drink. He sat with his mouth open for a few seconds, then chugged his beer. It had no effect on him anyway.

“I am most definitely not answering that.” Steve’s face was bright red, which made you wonder what might have happened.

“So now we see where the game is headed, huh?” Bucky seemed unfazed by Nat’s question, and even looked eager for his turn.

“I guess it’s my turn then. Um, Sam. Truth or dare?”

Sam had no hesitation, “Dare.”

“I dare you to,” Steve started. He was spluttering. You could tell he was trying to think of something raunchy, as stated earlier. “Jump in the pool!”

You snorted. You didn’t want to laugh, because Steve looked so proud of himself, but then Natasha started laughing, so you let it loose. Pretty soon, the whole room was in shambles.

“What?” Steve asked. He looked so sad and confused, like a teddy bear.

“Jump in the pool? That’s the best you can do?” Sam laughed.

“I’d like to see you do any better!” Steve challenged.

“Fine. Y/N, if you could have anyone in here go down on you, who would you choose?” You had known Sam was going to ask a sexual question, but this one was a little too specific. You knew your answer right away, of course, but you made it look like you were thinking it through.

“Well, if I had to choose, I’d probably say Bucky,” you slowly get out, “That beard would probably feel amazing down there, and I’ve heard he was quite the ladies man back in the day.”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed, but he answered with a suave, “Well you’re not wrong. All the dames love me.” Bucky looked at Y/N and waggled his eyebrows.

Nat on the other hand just became more pissed, as it was obviously an opportunity for something more to blossom. She wanted things to move quicker. After more embarrassing truths and dares, it was your turn again.

“Alright, Y/N, your turn.”

“Okay, um. Nat, truth or dare?” You asked.

“You already know I’m picking dare,” replied Nat. She never refrained from doing even the most insane things. One time, when you all were very drunk, she had gone onto the roof and performed an old ballet routine. She was sloshed at the time, so it wasn’t very good, but it was fucking hilarious for the rest of the team.

“I dare you to show us some more of your so-called ‘dance moves’,” you say using finger quotes. Nat, never one to back down, does just this. Then, she sits down with an evil glint in her eye. You know what’s coming.

“Bucky, you know the drill.”

Bucky hesitates for a second, but then says a confident, “Dare.”

“I dare you,” Nat’s eye flitted to yours, then looked back to Bucky, “to kiss Y/N.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you swore his cheeks were flushed. You looked into his blue eyes for a second, then your eyes darted to his lips. You saw him do the same, and in that moment you both saw what could be. You saw his smooth lips and thought of all the nights that could have been dates. You saw his eyes darken, and you thought of all the laughs, sweat, and tears you had shared. You saw his tongue wet his lips, and you thought of the long nights spent holding each other, and wishing for more. You wanted this more than anything, but a small part in the back of your mind kept screaming “This will change everything.” You wanted to lean in, but you were terrified. Not just of how this would shift your relationship with Bucky Barnes, but also of how he was processing this.

Luckily, some god had looked down on you, because he leaned in. As you got closer, your eyes fluttered shut. During the seconds that it took for your lips to touch, you were hyper aware of everything. The sound of the generators running. The lights flashing outside the Tower window. The feel of Bucky’s thigh against yours. And then, the taste of his lips.

Was it cliché to say that it felt like fireworks went off? Probably. But it still felt like that. He tasted of Asgardian liquor and salty popcorn from the movie. You kissed him for what felt like long hours and only mere seconds at the same time. When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

You heard Steve cough, and then remembered that there were other people in the room. Nat had a smirk on her face, and looked very self-satisfied. Sam was in disbelief. Steve, on the other hand, kept coughing and looking away, a blush staining his cheeks.

You looked back to Bucky. He quickly looked away and cleared his throat. Did he not like it? Was it possible he truly only thought of you as a friend? You had always listened to Nat when she said that he liked you to, but even Natasha Romanoff is wrong occasionally. You cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna go.” You felt sick to your stomach. How had you not noticed? Obviously, Bucky wasn’t ready for a relationship, or at least not one with you. You drank the rest of your drink and left. You heard Nat start to complain, but your disappointment clouded over everything. You could feel tears surfacing, but you refused to let them fall. How could you have thought Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, could have possibly liked you? You felt the walls closing in. The generators you heard before suddenly started to sputter out. The lights were blinding you. You had only had two drinks, but it felt like you had been drinking for days. You stumbled down the hallway towards your room.

Back in the living room, Nat was questioning Bucky.

“You like her, don’t you? You want to be with Y/N?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But she would never-” he was cut off.

“If that kiss shows anything, she definitely would,” Nat replied. She wanted Bucky to realize that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Yeah, man. I never thought someone would be into you, but I guess the ladies are into metal arms,” Sam imputed. Nat snorted at this, knowing that for you it was true.

“Why aren’t you dating her?”

“Because I would destroy her,” Bucky said, very seriously. He liked Y/N a lot, but he had a dark past. He was scared that he would hurt her, and told himself to stay away. He had loved her for a long time, but held those affections back in fear that she wouldn’t want them.

“She’d be into that,” Nat snarked. Steve choked on the drink he had just taken.

“I say just go for it, Buck. What’s the worst that could happen?” Steve suggested. Encouraged by Nat and Steve’s words, Bucky stood up and headed in the direction of your room.

As he was leaving, he could hear Nat’s voice yelling, “Don’t forget to use protection!” at him. Of course her mind went there.

The whole walk to your room, Bucky was second-guessing himself. What if you didn’t like him back? He had listened to Steve and Nat, but they could be wrong. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he had stopped in front of your door. He raised his arm to knock, and gathered the courage he needed.

You sat on your bed, flipping pages in a book. Your eyes scanned over the words, but you didn’t read a single one. All you could think of was him. A knock sounded at your door.. Maybe it was Nat here to offer her condolences. A small part of you hoped it was Bucky, but after how he reacted, you didn’t want to think about him. You opened the door, and your eyes met bright blue ones.

“Y/N-”

“Save it, Bucky. I know you don’t want anything from me. Just- just forget about it okay?” You were tired, and emotionally drained. You couldn’t deal with another rejection tonight. You started to close the door again, but Bucky’s metal arm stopped it.

“I don’t want to forget about it. The kiss,” Bucky stated. You were shocked. Your mouth was probably hanging open like a dead fish, but you had just heard the best words in your life. “I know you might not feel the same, but, I mean- well,  if you wanted to-” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. That firework feeling? It was nothing compared to what you felt now.

At first Bucky hesitated, not wanting to wake up if this was all a dream. After a second, he began to move his lips on yours.

You pulled Bucky into your room and shut the door. He grabbed you by the hips and shoved you against the wall. You mind was only slightly aware of the pain in your back, but it was ever so aware of the hard length pressing into your inner thigh. You groaned into Bucky’s mouth and ground yourself on him.

“Y/N,” Bucky groaned. He moved his lips from yours, panting heavily. You both took that second to breathe. You ran your hands down his muscular back, feeling every ridge. He latched his lips onto your neck. You threw your head back and distantly heard it hit the wall. All you could feel was Bucky. You knew this wasn’t going to be soft and gentle. You wanted Bucky to ruin you, and that’s what he was going to do. You felt him tugging on the hem of your shirt with his right hand, his left being used to hold you up. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, and as soon as it was off, he brought his lips back to yours.

Bucky started moving and shifted both of his hands to your thighs. You rested your arms on his shoulders. You pulled your head back from his and looked deep into the blue. He seemed to have a moment of clarity that cut through his lust blown pupils.

“Вы согласны с этим?” Do you want this?

Without thinking, Bucky had reverted to Russian. Luckily, you spoke the language.

“Да, Bucky. Я хочу этот. Я тебя хочу.” Yes, Bucky. I want this. I want you.

“Are you sure?” Ever the gentleman, you thought.

“Yes.” You looked up into his eyes, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to regret kissing you.

Then, his lips slammed into yours. They weren’t there for long, though. He trailed his lips down your chest and reached underneath you to unclasp your bra. As he pulled back, he stared in amazement at you.

“Doll, you are the finest dame I’ve ever seen.” You blush at his words and start to say something, but a gasp leaves your mouth instead when his mouth latches onto your nipple. You arch your back in an attempt to get more friction. Bucky chuckles at this. “Impatient there, are we?”

You whimper as an answer to his question. Thankfully, he puts his mouth back on you. He slowly begins to trail his kisses lower and lower, past your stomach until he reaches the band of your pajama pants. He looks at you, and the blue is almost disappeared from his eyes, darkened with lust. Lust that you created. Until this moment, you hadn’t really convinced yourself that Bucky really wanted you. But the way he looked at you like a dying man and you were his last meal, you knew. He drags your pants down your legs and you are left on the bed in only your panties. Suddenly, it hits you that he still has his goddamn shirt on.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” you say breathily. Bucky lets loose a low chuckle at your forwardness. He can’t say he’s not into it, though. He shucks his shirt off, then returns his face to the apex of your thighs.

You can feel his warm breath on your center. Which is soaked. He licks a stripe up you clothed core and you shudder.

“Bucky…” you trail off, “Don’t tease me.” At these words, he tears off your panties and dives in. He’s licking and sucking and you’re getting closer to an orgasm with each stroke of his tongue. He teases your entrance with his tongue, before entering you with a metal finger. You moan at the difference in temperature. His tongue attacks your clit while his hand finds that one spot that pleases you above all else. The noises you’re making are purely pornographic at this point, and Bucky loves it. You reach down, unable to keep your hands to yourself. Bucky groans when you pull his hair.

He adds another finger, and within a few moments, your orgasm is washing over you.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. “That- that was amazing.”

“We’re not done yet.” Bucky knows exactly which buttons to press to get you responding.

“I sure hope not,” comes your snarky reply. You love how, even in these intimate moments, you and Bucky can still crack jokes.

You wrap your legs around his and flip Bucky onto his back. He groans as he hits the mattress. The sight of you in all of your naked glory above him is more than enough to make him come, but he holds it off. But then you grind yourself into his thigh, and he becomes the moaning mess.

Riding Bucky’s thigh had always been a fantasy of yours, and it was finally becoming a reality. You pressed your core harder into his leg, feeling every shift of his muscle against the fabric of his pants. It created a delicious friction, and you weren’t going to stop. Bucky was enjoying the sight of you writhing against him. He loved the view of you growing closer to your completion by using him as a sex toy. Pretty soon, you reach yet another orgasm, and Bucky takes over again.

He stands up and takes off his pants and boxers, and you can’t help but stare. Bucky Barnes is fucking hung. When he notices you staring, he winks and chuckles, “The serum affected everything, doll.”

He reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom. He rolls it on and lines himself up with you, his eyes silently asking for permission. You nod, and he slowly pushes himself in.

Now, you were by no means a virgin, but Bucky was so big that it felt like you were.

“Doll, Y/N, you’re so fucking tight.” He buries himself to the hilt and stays unmoving, allowing you to adjust to his massive size. You are filled to the brim, and you finally understand why sex toys are made with veins and ridges. You can feel every inch of Bucky, and when he starts to move, you feel the friction that each ridge creates. You feel impossibly whole with Bucky inside you.

When Bucky begins to pick up the pace, the pleasure you felt is multiplied by tenfold. You already had two orgasms that night, and you were well on your way to a third. Bucky made you feel things like you never had before. You thought you had had good sex before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. As you neared your orgasm, you looked into Bucky’s eyes, and he was staring back at you. There was something so intimate about the act, so loving, that you came right then and there.

“Bucky!”

When Bucky felt your walls clench around him, he was done for. He came hard, just as you had.

“Y/N.”

Bucky thrusted a few more times, to ride out both of your orgasms. Then, he fell on top of you.

After a moment of silence, you groan.

“You’re heavy.”

“Well sorry that I’m tuckered out, doll,” Bucky chuckles. You knew he wasn’t really, that serum could keep him going all night, but you liked to think that you wore him out, even just a bit.

Bucky shifts over, and in doing so, slips out of you. You both groan at the loss. Bucky then stands up, ties off the condom, and throws it away. He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel to clean you up. When that is all done, he lays back down next to you, and draws you into his arms. You knew you needed to talk with Bucky, but that could wait until the morning. You don’t think you could talk coherently right now anyway. After all, Bucky Barnes had just ruined you.

A/N

alright folks that was it so far. if you enjoyed please let me know! my requests will be open because i want to write more, so drop one of those down. thanks babes!

#ldmwc #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader

[iambuckyrogers]

Meet the Parents

Summary: Your parents think you’re dating Bucky Barnes so when they’re in town what do you do when they ask to meet the happy couple for dinner?

Word Count: 1361

Chapter Warnings: none

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Authors Note: This is my entry for Little Darlin’s Marvellous Writing Challenge (@littledarlinhavefaithinme), sorry it’s so close to the deadline life got in the way! It's only short but after watching endgame my brain has short-circuited so I tried my best ;) hope yall enjoy xx

Prompt: “I can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me”

“Pretend to be your boyfriend?” Bucky questioned, arching an eyebrow. You sucked in a deep breath, quickly regretting opening your mouth in the first place.

“I can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me,” you pleaded. As an agent of shield, you often found yourself in difficult situations working closely with the Avengers. Through countless missions and various stakeouts, you had grown quite close to the former Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. So close, in fact, that your mother had convinced herself that you and Bucky were dating despite your numerous attempts to persuade her otherwise. That was why you were currently asking Bucky to be your fake boyfriend for an afternoon. Your parents were in town for the weekend and they had invited you and Bucky out for dinner. Instead of just telling them, again, that you weren’t dating, you had decided it would be a good idea to ask Bucky to cooperate. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity until eventually he flashed you a cheeky grin and slowly nodded his head.

“Sure thing doll, I could think of far worse ways to spend a Friday night,” he teased nudging you gently with his shoulder.

“O-ok, ah, pick me up at 7. Wear something nice,” you stammered.

“Will do,” he called after you as you hurried down the hallway to your morning meeting.

*****

Bucky knocked on the door to your apartment at 7 o’clock sharp.

“Coming,” you shouted as you hopped through your living room, trying desperately to pull on your stubborn shoe. You smoothed down your navy cocktail dress, adjusting the lacy sleeves and tugging at the high neckline until you were content with how everything was sitting. With one last glance in the mirror, you checked that your hair was in place and your make up was flawless. Taking a deep breath you pulled open the door to reveal an incredibly handsome man leaning casually on your doorframe, one foot kicked over the other with a bunch of flowers in his hand.

“I figured I’d bring you a little something since we are dating after all,” Bucky chuckled, offering you the bunch of pink and white roses, “you look fantastic by the way,” he added. Bucky didn’t look too bad himself, he’d traded his usual black tactical gear for black denim jeans, blue floral shirt and a tight-fitting leather jacket. His long hair was pulled back into a low bun, loose strands framing his sharp jawline.

“Thanks, you scrub up pretty well for an old guy,” you jeered, accepting the flowers, quickly going inside to put them in some water. When you returned Bucky offered you his arm, bowing theatrically.

“Shall we?” he asked looking up at you through thick lashes.

“We shall,” you laughed linking your arm through his. He led you to his car, opening the door for you and helping you in, shutting it carefully behind you. He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, revving twice before taking off down the road.

“So,” he began glancing over to you, “what’s the rules with this?“ he gestured between the two of you.

“Ah- um, well, we’re dating-“ Bucky cut you off with a curt laugh.

“Sweetheart, I understand that much,” he explained, “what’s the rules with pda?”

“Oh, right. I think hand holding is probably enough, I never was one for much pda growing up so my parents shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“Right, hand holding, got it,” he noted, “this’ll be a piece of cake.”

*****

The two of you walked hand in hand into the restaurant. You were greeted by a waiter who quickly took you to the table where your parents were waiting.

“Mum, Dad it’s so good to see you,” you hugged them both before returning to Bucky’s side, “This is-“ you were cut off by your mother surging forward and wrapping Bucky in a tight hug.

“The famous James Barnes,” your mother finished.

“Please call me Bucky,” he chuckled and hugged her back making your heart melt a little. Your mother pulled away and held Bucky at arm's length.

“You are much more handsome than y/n let on,” your mother joked making you roll your eyes.

“Mum stop, please!” you begged dragging Bucky from her grasp.

“So nice to finally meet you,” your father interrupted, shaking Bucky’s hand, “Y/N talks about you so much I feel like we know you already.” He and your mother laughed but you only hid your face in embarrassment.

“Dad, please,” you whined.

“It’s ok Y/N, nice to know you’re so smitten,” Bucky smirked wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You sighed and leaned into his embrace, resting your hand on his chest.

“Watch yourself, Barnes,” you teased smacking him lightly. The four of you took your seats at the table and started looking over the menu, Bucky’s hand resting lightly on your knee.

Your mum broke the silence, “Bucky, did you know that y/n never even told us you were dating,” you shot your mum a warning look but she continued on, "Every time she rang home she’d gush about this friend,” she used air quotes around the word friend, ”but as her mum I could see straight through this friends business.”

“Mum!”

“I’m hurt,” he clutched his chest in feign shock, giving you the side eye, “am I not good enough?” he smirked, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your head. Before you could register what was happening Bucky had let you go as the waiter approached the table. Your orders were taken and the conversation rolled on, Bucky asked your parents about work and your childhood, hearing all the embarrassing stories from your younger years. In turn, he spoke about his life in the 40s, growing up with Captain America and how he was coping in the 21st century. Your parents loved him, everything felt so natural despite the whole charade being a lie.

“It was so good to finally meet you Bucky. You really are every bit the wonderful man that y/n told us you were,” your mother gushed as she hugged you both goodbye outside the restaurant, “we hope to see you again soon.” Her words sent a pang of guilt through your chest.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you both,” Bucky said shaking your father’s hand.

“Don’t break her heart,” your father threatened.

“I’d never dream of it,” Bucky replied taking your hand and gently squeezing. Your dad kissed you on the cheek and you parted ways. Despite your parents no longer being around Bucky didn’t let go of your hand as you walked to the car, if anything he held on tighter. You reached to open the door but Bucky had other plans, spinning you around and pressing you up against the side of the car, caging you in his arms.

“How long, doll?” he asked cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“How lo-what I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered looking anywhere but into his eyes. He leaned in impossibly closer, warm breath fanning across your cheeks.

“How long?” he repeated. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his steely blue ones, his expression unreadable.

“Too long,” you sighed hanging your head, “I’m sorry Bucky, if this makes things we-“ Bucky cut you off, using his index finger he tilted your head up making your eyes meet. He brushed his fingers along your cheekbone and cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. His eyes flicked from your e/c ones to your lips and back up again. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leant in, capturing his lips in a languid kiss. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces as if he was made just for you. You fisted your hands in his shirt as he deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and into your mouth. Letting out a breathy moan you pulled away, resting your forehead against Bucky’s.

“How long?” you asked.

“Too long,” he smiled and pulled you in for another kiss.

#LDMWC #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fic #marvel x reader #james barnes x reader #winter soldier marvel #winter soldier x reader

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 3

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, feels, fluff, smut, everything

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

LOLOLOLOL WHAT HAVE I DONE. 

Well. This is longer than I expected but seeing as the challenge is over this week I thought I’d give it to y’all in one final beefy chapter filled with blood and emotions and smut and the bevy of human messiness that makes us all tick. The prompt is bolded. I need a drink. Aaaaand there is probs gonna be an epilogue because I have more ideas for these two. 

Hope y’all like my angsty Cap! 

Tags are open!

It takes two hours to clean up the mess.

He tells the police he had been here with a friend, who he told to leave as soon as the shot was heard, he saw the victim attacking a woman, she fired in self-defense, before he could question her she’d gotten lost in the crowd. As he conveyed his not entirely untrue story Natasha stared at him, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t believe him but she said nothing.

It didn’t matter. No one seemed too concerned with any of it. Almost to the point that it unnerved him. Both the DCPD and S.H.I.E.L.D. chalked it up to some random incident, bagged the body, took some statements and that was it.

“They’re not going to do anything more about this?” He asked Natasha as everyone dispersed.

She shrugged, “People die every day in this city. They’ll look into it but he’s likely just a thug who picked the wrong mark. Sucks to be him but if no one’s gonna miss him they’re not gonna waste the manpower on it.” He doesn’t like it. “Can’t save everyone all the time, Steve.”

That wasn’t what left a bad taste in his mouth but he couldn’t tell her that. With a cloud hovering over him he heads home, trying his best to push down the feeling in his gut that he’s missing something.

As he slips his key in the lock he hears water coming from the bathroom. His blood runs cold.

Quietly he opens the door. Slipping inside, he stands, hardly breathing as he assesses the situation. His shield isn’t where he usually leaves it, close to the door. However, he does see blood, drops trailing on the wood floor toward the bathroom. Even though he assumes it's you he cautiously makes his way through his apartment.

The door to the bathroom is just barely ajar. He shoulders it open and hears the click of a gun. You’re standing in the shower, shield raised, gun poised.

“Oh thank fuck,” you breathe out, shield dropping to your side revealing your muscular form clad in nothing but a pair of high waist lace underwear and a matching bra. He swallows hard, trying to pretend he doesn’t feel his cheeks heating.

“That thing is heavier than I thought it’d be.” You lean his shield against the wall beside the shower, setting your pistol beside it.

“They really just let you bring that home? I thought it’d be on lock up or something. Vibranium is worth a shit load.” He says nothing as he steps in, nothing the first aid kit, the blood in the bathtub, and discarded surgical thread in a pile.

“I’ll clean this up,” he’s surprised at the awkward tone in your voice. “I… uh… it’s hard to stitch up the back of your thigh yourself, in case you ever need to know.” Blood is still snaking down your leg, he can tell from the pool forming by your foot.

“I’d assume as much.” He has a million questions but for now, you need help. “Here,” he begins undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“You don’t have to-”

“I can’t just leave you bleeding in my shower. And I think I’m owed some answers. So, you’re gonna let me stitch you up and you’re going to answer my questions.”

“Authoritative. I’m into it.” He slides his gaze to you, as he tosses the shirt to his bed. That goddamn smirk on your lips. He’s got half a mind to turn you around in the shower and… No. You need help and he needs answers. That’s what this situation is. Nothing else.

He washes his hands and grabs a few rags, getting them wet. “Turn around, let me see.” Ignoring the blood he kneels behind you, setting the kit down beside him, to inspect the wound. It needs stitches but it’s not too bad.

“Am I gonna make it doc?” You look over your shoulder and down at him, voice dripping with mock concern.

“I think we can save the leg, just barely though.”

“Thank god. Though I could always replace it with a machine gun.”

“That may be the most ridiculous image I can imagine,” he laughs as he starts to clean the area around the wound.

You hiss just a bit before explaining, “It’s in a movie actually.”

“Well,” he pulls gauze from the kit to press to the wound, you brace yourself against the wall, “that sounds like a cinematic masterpiece.”

You laugh a little, “It’s so bad it’s almost good actually. Kind of a horror action combo.”

“Maybe I’ll watch it.” Gently he removes the blood-soaked pad before pressing another, the flow slows.

“I don’t know if it’ll be your taste.”

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to try new things?”

“Ok,” you laugh, “point.”

He threads a fresh needle, “Ready?”

“Can’t wait.” Your tone is flat, forehead pressed against the shower.

He’s impressed that you hardly flinch while he sutchures the wound. As he does so he can’t help but think about how quickly something like this would heal on him. He’d hardly bother to stitch it. He almost… envies you.

Once you’re stitched he tapes gauze over the wound and cleans the dried blood from the back of your leg. “You’re set, though I’d still maybe get it checked out.”

“Thanks, doctor Steve,” you turn and he’s eye level with those maddening lace underwear again.

Forcing his eyes away he stands, stepping out of the shower, heading to the sink, “Yeah, well I didn’t do it for free, Zelda. You owe me-”

“Y/N,” you say softly. He looks back at you as he soaps his hands. “My name… is Y/N.”

His face stretches into a smile. It’s pretty, suits you. Drying his hands he turns to you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

It’s not the smirk he’s grown to expect, the curling of your lips is genuine, soft, lighting your eyes. You nod, “I obviously owe you a new suit too,” you gesture to the bloodstained slacks. “Think I could add some other clothes to the tab? Unfortunately, my dress has seen better days.”

“Sure.” He heads into his room pulling sweats and a tee from a drawer. You’re rinsing the shower with the handheld head when he walks back in. He sets the clothes on the counter. “Don’t worry about the suit. Not like I bought it.”

“Still, thanks.”

“If I leave you in here are you gonna disappear again?”

“No promises,” the smirk back on your lips. He leans in the door, arms crossed. “I’m not going anywhere. I owe you, remember?”

He nods and leaves you. Grabbing fresh clothes himself he goes to the guest room to change too. When he opens the door, there you are. Before he can say anything your eyes fix on something behind him.

“Is that…?” You gesture to the almost finished canvas of St. Louis.

“Yeah…” He hasn’t felt this awkward in more than 70 years. “It… I…”

“You did this?!” You look awestruck.

He shrugs, “Yeah. I went to art school back in my day. It was kinda the only thing I was good at… well besides getting the shit kicked outta me.”

Your gaze has shifted from him back to the painting. “Steve… honestly… this is stunning.”

“Eh. I’m still not happy with the sky, it’s not the right kind of purple. The gradient is off too and my shadows need work.”

“Shut up. It’s beautiful. What the hell are you doing being a soldier?!”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You scoff, “Nah,” something dark flits over your features when you turn back. “There’s no spectacular hidden talent here.”

“I doubt that.” He gives you a warm smile, “You’re one hell of a dancer.”

Your head tilts back in a laugh, “That’s me bein’ a ho. Nothing particularly special there.” You pat his chest as you walk from the room. “Mind if I nab some of that whiskey I saw in there?”

“Not at all.” He follows you out, “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a glass.” His eyes follow you to the living room, unable to ignore the curve of your ass as you walk.

He pours you a hearty bit of whiskey, certain your leg has to be hurting and he doesn’t have any other pain killer. For posterity, he pours some for himself too. It does nothing for him but the smoky taste is comforting.

“Here,” he hands you the tumbler.

“Thanks,” you wrap your fingers around the glass. Suddenly you look tired, smaller somehow.

He pulls the armchair close to the couch, not wanting to crowd you. For a few minutes, silence hangs. As adamant as he was earlier about getting answers, looking at you now he just wants you to rest.

“So…” you break the silence.

He sighs, “Let’s start with why you asked me out tonight.”

One perfect brow raises, “Because I wanted to.”

“And someone trying to kill you had absolutely nothing to do with it?”

“Not… exactly.” He doesn’t honor that with an answer, just stares at you. Nervously your nails tap the glass of the tumbler. “A few weeks ago I got tapped for a gig. Blind hire. Usually, I don’t even entertain jobs like that unless the pay is very good. This was, but when they told me who…”

Ah… he sees now. “How much is Captain America’s head going for these days?”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not laughin,’ just curious.”

“Millions.” Not bad. At least he knew he was worth something to someone, even if it was dead. “Thing is,” your voice pulls him back, “I have a, uh, reputation of sorts…”

“I don’t doubt that,” he smiles up at you through his lashes and your features soften.

“Fuck you.” Playfully you toss a couch pillow at him. “See, if you hire me you had better be damn sure your hands are cleaner than the person you’re sending me after.”

“If they’re not?”

That smirk plays on your lips. “Well, most times I’ll flip the gig. Tell whoever you hired me to go after what you’re doing, offer my services, usually make more than I was gonna before. And if not it’s at least more satisfying.”

“Judge, jury, and executioner.” He can’t pretend he approves.

You shrug, “I don’t trick myself into thinking it’s justice. It’s a job. That’s all. I just sleep better knowing I didn’t go after someone innocent.” His brows rise. “Yeah. That’s kind of my niche. I’m who the underground sends after their own.”

“Seems like a fine line to walk.”

“I’m very, very good at what I do. So, I’m tolerated.”

“Guessing I’m not dirty enough to justify being your mark.”

“Well… I’m sure in some ways… but not enough for me to put a bullet in you.”

“So you turned ‘em down.”

“No.” He can’t help but look surprised, you laugh. “Told them I needed 48 hours. I knew they’d go underground once I said no, so I needed time. There wasn’t any trail I could find to figure out who was putting the hit out but I did find a tie to my Popov job.”

You slam back the rest of your whiskey, “It was also a blind hire, great pay, but I didn’t look too far into it because he was a fuckin’ monster. Hell, I would have don’t it for a smoke and a beer. But I think they wanted to see if I I could get to someone even with you there…”

“And you did.”

“Yup.” You roll the glass in your hands, “Realized I wasn’t getting anything else on my own so contacted them in 30 hours, they thought I was going to say yes so they were pretty willing to share what they wanted.”

“They wanted more than me dead?”

“No, more like how… They didn’t care about anything else other than it looking like you went out in the line of duty a-”

“Hero’s death.” Bitterness fills his mouth.

“Something like that. And it was to be local, close to DC.”

“We don’t do many jobs close to home…”

“Figured as much.”

He nods, “So they worked out you were going to tell me and came after you?”

You shrug, “That or they planned on taking me out once I turned them down, just finally had a good window.”

He doesn’t like this. Not because someone was gunning for him, that honestly didn’t phase him. He doesn’t like that you were in the crosshairs over it. You may have a questionable day job but… you weren’t a bad person.

“So,” you slowly stand and walk to the table where your clutch and shoes wait, “I was thinking you could cash in on some of those clearly unused vacation hours.” Picking up your things you turn to him smiling. “Maybe see St. Louis for real or Notre Dame, Greece is great this time of year, or-”

“I’m not running.” He’s sort of touched and a part of him would love to go to any of those places with you but… Steve Rogers didn’t stand down from a fight.

“Steve… if someone tried to hire me they aren’t fucking around. They will find someone and-”

He stands, “I’ll be fine.” His hand rests on your shoulder, you lean into it a bit, taking weight off your leg.

Looking up at him your face is hard, “You won’t be.”

“And if I’m not America can have her martyr back, plus someone gets a great payday. Why does it matter to you?”

“Why doesn’t it matter to you?”

He holds your gaze, meaning every word, “Who’s gonna miss Steve Rogers?”

“Me.” He honestly wasn’t expecting that. A sad smile lifts your full lips, “I think I’d miss Steve Rogers… a lot.”

Something in him snaps at that. He’d felt so numb for so long and now he’s suddenly burning. Cupping your face he leans down pressing his lips to yours.

Your things clatter to the floor as you return the kiss, arms curling around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, holding you close and lifts you just a touch as your tongue finds its way between his teeth. The taste of whiskey and desire fill his mouth.

Steve can’t remember wanting something, someone, in so long…

You break the kiss, eyes burning into his own. “Please don’t do something stupid… please.”

“Promise I won’t if you stay.” Hope flickers in his chest for just a moment.

“I can’t…” It flickers out. “I’m sorry.” You release him and he makes sure you’re steady on your feet before he bends to retrieve your things. When he looks back he swears that’s disappointment on your face…

“Even just for tonight? Your leg…”

“Too risky,” your index finger traces his jaw, bottom lip catching in your teeth.

“Can I at least get you home?”

“I can manage, Cap.” You sigh heavily, “I should go…”

His eyes glue to the wood grain of the floor. “Ok.”

“I’ll see you around…” He looks up, then, the soft smile on your features telling him this is a request.

“Maybe.” You nod, darkness flickering behind your eyes. He won’t make promises he can’t keep. Holding your things he turns to walk you out, now just wanting this to be over.

At the door, you both stand awkwardly. “Here,” he hands you your things.

“Thanks.” you take them. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for the warning.”

You nod. “Steve…” Your hand rests over his heart before your pleading eyes catch his, “Please be safe.”

He wraps your hand in his lifting it to his lips, “You too.”

You nod when he releases your hand, no doubt noting his avoidance. “Well, until next time.”

He opens the door, “Next time.” And then you’re gone.

-

The next few months crawl by. Anytime you’re not working is always miserably boring but you needed to lay low unless you wanted to end up in a shallow grave somewhere.

Your new found free time had left room for you to keep digging into Steve’s hit. What you were finding was… well, nothing short of a national crisis so wild and far-reaching that if you hadn’t been doing the research yourself you’d think it was bullshit. Honestly, discovering that the government was run by lizard people would have been more believable.

More than once you try to convince yourself to meet up with Steve, share all this. But… he wasn’t in a good place, that had been clear. You were pretty sure he wasn’t much better since you left him if your mostly unanswered texts were any indication. If you were to tell him you had evidence that Hydra, the organization he’d given his life to see destroyed, was still functioning… And that it was very possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved… What would he do?

One morning you’re on your third cup of coffee, wondering how you’ll fill your day when your phone rings. The little hand drawn picture of a dick on a napkin that pops up tells you who it is.

“The fuck you want, Wade?” You hear Vanessa laugh in the background and can’t help but smile. “Am I on speaker?!”

“Of course. I only conduct sensitive business in the loudest way possible you know that. Oh and also, rude.”

You laugh, “What’s going on.”

Crunching echos on the other end before he answers. “You asked me to tell you if I heard any chatter about someone getting tapped for that Captain America gig you turned down?”

“Yeah?”

“Well. I heard something.” He says nothing else.

“Wilson. I know you love foreplay but now is not the time.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.”

“She prefers me anyway,” Vanessa quips.

“She’s not wrong.”

He laughs, “Why am I friends with you again? You’re rude to me, prefer my girlfriend, you never come slap me around anymore, I mean honestly, Y/N.”

“Wade, I swear I’ll do more than slap you around next time if you just stop dicking around and tell me what you got.”

“Ooooh, see that’s what I’m talking about.” More crunching, “But in all seriousness, that’s not the promise I want from you. I tell you this, you tell him if you have to, but don’t get involved, this shit is way too risky.”

“Aww, you care.”

“Fuck you.” He sighs, “Private airport, DC, supposedly some child-smuggling ring, links to human experimentation. That’s at least the story on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s books. Don’t have an exact date but it’s likely going to be within a week.”

Bold of them to stick with that structure even after telling you… but it was a good enough cover, and if it worked… Fuck.

“Y/N… don’t be a dumbass. Why you give a fuck I don’t know but if you need to tell him, do it. That’s it though. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, promise.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Wade, seriously.”

“Anytime.”

“Love ya, Y/N!” Vanessa calls out.

“You too boo! Fuck ‘em up for me.” She laughs and the call ends.

For the next ten minutes, you just stare at your phone. Your fingers trace the shape of your lips, remembering the way he tasted, how warm his body felt… Suddenly you realize you may actually miss him.

Finally, you pick up the phone and tap out a text:

Y/N: Hey. We need to talk ASAP. Call me?

Hours come and go. You run, work out, clean, anything to try to keep yourself distracted but it doesn’t help. Every minute he doesn’t respond fills you with dread.

When you can’t stand it any longer you call him. It rings and rings until his voicemail picks up. You don’t leave one.

Two days later you feel physically sick from the stress. What if you were too late? What if he…

The phone rings, and you practically drop it in your haste to pull the thing from your pocket.

“Steve!?” You hate how desperate you sound.

“It’s the job with the kids isn’t it?” His tone stings a little… still…

“Yeah, it is. Don’t know who took it but it’s a safe bet it’s not someone to fuck around with.”

“Right. Well, thanks for the heads up.”

“Steve?!”

“What.”

“I… uh…” You don’t know what you expected… this wasn’t it. “Just… ya know, don’t die.”

“No promises.” With that, he hangs up.

It hurts more than you want to admit. Angry you storm to the garage and begin beating your punching bag until your knuckles bleed and tears run down your face.

You had made peace that the life you chose was a fairly solitary one. It was better that way. For some reason, though he made you wish that wasn’t the case… it didn’t matter. You couldn’t have him, he didn’t want you… And he’d likely be in a flag covered casket by the end of the week.

That thought makes you freeze mid punch.

No. You can’t let that happen. Rushing through the house you gear up, wrap your knuckles, and in less than an hour, your bike is thundering down the highway.

You’d been living in Pittsburg so it doesn’t take you long to get to DC. The sun had just set when you stand at his door, banging, heart threatening to burst from your chest.

As soon as it’s clear that he’s not going to answer you go outside and work your way up the fire escape, prying the window open like you did the last time you were here.

“Steve?” You call out, begging that if nothing else you’ll see his shield… There’s no Steve and no shield. “Fuck.”

Wade didn’t tell you what private airport. You wrack your brain, there were two that were legit just outside the city but you knew there were a couple more exclusive ones that wouldn’t be found through a simple Google search. You don’t hesitate to call in some contacts to find out where this may be going down. If someone wanted to rat you out so be it.

Favors called in, promises given, you finally have it narrowed down to two places. One on the books one off. The first one is the obvious choice, used mainly by wealthy dignitaries looking to avoid customs and it’s closer. It’s also a dead end. Cursing yourself you pray you’re not too late as you rush to the other private airport near College Park.

The place is dead… as is the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent near the front of the small check-in area. It reminds you how easily this could go wrong. You slip your phone out and text Wade.

Y/N: Look. If I eat it tonight this isn’t on you. Idk why he matters but he does and I couldn’t stay out of it. You know where my stash is, take Vanessa somewhere nice if I don’t come out of this. Love ya.

If you did live he’d likely kick your ass after this. You’d welcome it. Taking a deep breath you stalk slowly deeper into the airport.

The silence eats at you making your anxiety rise. If there was still a fight going on you’d hear something… if he was…

You hear glass breaking from down the small terminal. Immediately you take cover. Unable to see you let your ears do the work. Two, maybe three, a groan and a snap echos in the space. Well… two people. A shot goes off and you flinch but you have to look.

The merc isn’t someone you know but he’s big, a mountain of a man who’s bulk rivals Steve’s. Brass knuckles on his massive hand, in the other a gun.

“Honestly,” he speaks, clearly American, “I thought this would be harder.” A sinister grin fills his face, “But who am I to complain?”

He rushes Steve, landing a blow to his solar plexus. Steve gasps and the shield clatters to the ground. Before you know it your gun is in your hand and you shoot, not to kill but to distract.

“What the fuck?!” He takes cover as you let loose another shot.

“You scare easy for a big fucker!” You taunt more to let Steve know who’s here.

The glint of the metal on his knuckles tips you off before he can take his shot and you tumble toward Steve who’s still getting his breath. Pushing him to the side you fire.  

“What the hell are you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You growl at him. From your belt, you pull a flash bomb and hurl it toward the merc. In a second it goes off and you pull Steve to his feet. “Come on.”

You head toward the front of the terminal, previously abandoned but you can hear the shuffle of people. Steve pulls you against him and against the wall, shield in front of you.

“Not yours?” You ask looking up at his bloody face partly covered by the cowl.

“No.”

“Great.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says low in your ear.

“Neither should you.” You push away from him, “This way.” Hopefully, you could get out the back of the terminal before the merc got his vision back.

Holding close to the wall you manage to make it to a side door. Relief begins to tickle at you. You just may get out of this alive. With no assailants near, you turn to him.

“So, I warn you that someone is trying to kill you and all you can do is run straight for the reaper!? I mean I get you don’t like me or approve or whatever but come on you could have at least-”

Unblinking he flings his shield behind you with a swish. You turn in time to see it slam into someone's neck, snapping it.

“-listened to me,” you finish your statement voice flat with restrained surprise.

“Never said I didn’t like you,” he pushes past you to retrieve the shield. “We should aim for the back.” You nod and follow him.

You cover one another as you slowly make your way to the gated back portion of the airstrip. The shrubbery would provide just enough cover once you got there and-

A bullet grazes Steve’s shoulder causing his shield arm to go slack.

“Shit,” he hisses. The shot came from the single-engine plane you had just cleared.

Whirling you take aim at the assailant and catch them in the chest as they try to take cover off the wing. With a clatter they tumble to the ground, head making a sick crack on the asphalt.

“They must have sent a team,” you say kneeling to look at his wound.

“Ya think?” He sets the shield against his calf for a moment while he tries to move his arm.

“You’re making me regret showing up to save your ass.” He huffs out a little laugh.

It happens so fast you can’t think. A shot rings to your left and you both look. He must have seen or heard something you didn’t because he’s got you by the shoulders pulling you to the ground and under him. You can feel the moment the bullet hits his body. He groans and goes heavy on top of you.

“Steve!” He says nothing and you manage to push him off gently. Blood stains the navy of his suit a darker shade and you can see the tip of the bullet glinting against the fabric. Through and through.

You grab the shield and deflect another volley of bullets from the two of you. Glancing over you see the big man from before. Great.

“Just go,” Steve groans.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up earlier?” You rip your shirt off and toss it to him to press to his wound. “Don’t bleed out on me.”

Thinking fast you rise to your feet, shield before you and you fire at the man. One in the head, two in the chest. He’s only part of your problem. You can see movement toward the terminal…

The two of you need cover and a very loud distraction. You pull two smoke grenades and toss them toward the plane the shooter had been on. In just a minute there’s enough of a screen to shield you both for a moment.

“Ok,” you turn to him. “Cover your ears, it’s gonna get loud and then we’re gonna have to run like hell. Can you manage?”

He grimaces, blood suffusing his side. “Sure, why not.”

There’s no other choice. You pull the two concussion grenades you keep for special occasions from their holster. Flicking the pins and hoping for the best you hurl them one after the other in two directions before covering you both with the shield as best you can.

The one that lands by the plane has the desired effect, it blows close by and will only cause a bigger hazard as the fire you can see through the smoke spreads. The other doesn’t hit much but is loud enough to distract. Good.

“Time to go old man.” You help him up, shield on your free arm and you make your way to the fence. The link is easy to cut and you’re quickly through it into the brush.

“Where are we even going, Y/N? Just leave me here, my people will come and-”

“I’m not fucking leaving you.” Your tone is sharp. “We aren’t in the wilderness. There’s a strip mall not far. I’ll jump a car and get you…” Where?

“Just get me home.” You stare at him trying to gauge just how much he wanted to die. “If you take me to a hospital they’re gonna look for me and innocent people may get hurt. I’m not bleeding enough for this to be life-threatening-”

“You don’t-”

“You can stitch me up.” His smile is crooked.

“I’m not a fucking medic, Rogers.” If he died… You were wasting time. “Whatever fine. Come on.”

You manage to get him back to his apartment alive.

His massive form leans against you heavily. “Don’t fucking pass out on me now, Rogers.”

He grunts in response. “Table.”

Hastily you clear the mail and books from the table top. The heavy wooden furniture groans under him as he sits on it, shaking fingers fumbling to undo his tactical suit.

“Here,” you push his hands away. There are an annoying amount of zippers and connection points but you eventually get it loose to his waist.

Moving behind him you lean across the table to help slide the suit down his arms. At first, your breath catches at the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper back ripple, a fucking Grecian statue of a man. When your eyes trail down though…

Blood stains his side, leaking slowly from the bullet hole. Bruising, deep and painful, already blossoms around the wound. His arm is nowhere near as bad but still needs attention. You swallow hard, trying to calm the panic in your chest.

A clink on the table draws your eye away. The bullet, intact and bloody lies there.

“Jesus, Steve…” Your fingers barely touch the unbruised skin close to the wound. He shivers.

“Not to be an ass but-”

“Shit! Yeah, sorry.” Hurridly you run to the bathroom and tug out the first aid kit, in the same place it was before, and soak rags in warm water. When you come back in you notice Steve sway.

You slam everything down on the table. “Steve,” you grab him by the shoulders, “hey,” your hands move to cup his face. “Look at me.” Those cool blue eyes meet yours, hazy and distant, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His hands catch your wrists, strong fingers digging in. “No,” his voice is stern, eyes seeming to clear.

“Ok,” you don’t want to waste time fighting him. You wash your hands in scalding water, slip glovers over them, and pray to a god you had long since given up on that you don’t kill this man.

When you’re finally wrapping a bandage around him you feel like you’ve just sprinted 10 miles. Your hands are shaking, your nerves are fried, you want to throw up and pass out and have 40 drinks but… you did the fucking thing. So far, so good. He hadn’t fainted, bled out, or died.

You take a shaky breath as you secure the bandage and he catches your hands in his bloodstained paws. Slowly you drag your eyes to meet his, barely breathing.

“Thank you,” his features are so soft.

A dry laugh slips from you, “Thanks for not dying.” He squeezes your hands a bit.

“Come on,” you pull back to help him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“You don’t hav-”

“Consider it me protecting my hard work. I’m not about to have gone through that for you to fuck it up.”

“Fair,” he groans as he stands.

You guide him to the bathroom and he hesitates, “Seriously I-”

“Don’t blush Rogers, you’ve lost too much blood to send it running in places it shouldn’t be.” The look on his face is slightly shocked. You can’t help but laugh, “Look, do you really think you can get out of the rest of this gear on your own?” He shrugs. “No. You can’t. Don’t be a baby.”

Gently you push him toward the bathroom. “Sit.” He does so on the edge of the tub.

-

Steve watches you kneel before him, sure fingers untying the laces on his boots.

There was a time in his life he was used to being cared for. Honestly, it felt both like yesterday and an age ago… Unsurprisingly he still absolutely hates it.

You were right though. He wasn’t in the shape to do it himself.

“Stand for a sec, we need to get this suit off.”

He swallows hard. It wasn’t that he was particularly shy… but…

“I can’t let you hang around in bloody clothes, man.”

All he can manage is a nod. His legs shake as he stands and his head swims a bit from blood loss and lack of sleep. When was the last time he had a solid night’s sleep…

“Stay with me,” you reach out steadying him.

“Tryin’,” his tongue is thick in his mouth.

“Just a bit longer.” You give him a gentle reassuring smile.

He feels almost drunk. “You have a beautiful smile.” The words just fall from his lips. Some part of him is mortified until your smile brightens even more before you look away. “Now who’s blushing?” He teases.

“Ya know I was gonna let you keep some of your dignity and give you a towel to cover up with. Now I’m not so sure.” You look back at him and wink.

“I got nothin’ to hide.”

“I bet.” That spark in your eyes makes the muscles in his abdomen clench painfully.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend he’d never wondered what you’d look like on your knees. However, in none of his imaginings were you working a blood-soaked tac suit off him while he fought to stay conscious. But since when had anything in his life gone to plan?

“Boxers?”

He blinks at you, “What?”

“Your boxers. You need some that don’t look like evidence.”

He looks down, the ones he’s wearing are half grey and half crimson. “Top drawer.” You disappear and return with boxers and sweats.

You hand him a towel, “Thought I’d be nice.”

Wordlessly he takes it, holding it loosely in front of himself. When your fingers hook around the elastic of his boxers, your body lowering slowly down with the garment, eyes locked on his, he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hangin’ in there, Cap?” Mischief glints in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he nods his head. You turn to wet a rag and, despite his best efforts, his mind fills with images of tearing your tac pants off your body and fucking you over the sink until you can’t stand.

His throat goes dry as you turn back. Unsuccessfully he tries holding the towel out a touch further to hide how hard he is.

The corner of your mouth ticks up, your warm hand on his chest causing his heart to beat a little faster. “What’d I say about keeping blood where it belongs?” Your voice is a purr.

Steve huffs out a small laugh, grimacing at the movement. You drop to your knees, gently washing the blood off his thigh. Bullet wound be damned. His fingers release his grip on the towel.

“Steve…” Your eyes lift up to his, the tip of your tongue flitting out to touch your bottom lip. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just got shot… I don’t want to hur-“

“Please.” He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that his knees feel week, that his head is filled with fog, or that he could have died tonight. He didn’t die. And he wants you… it’s the first time he’s wanted anything… anyone, in so long…

He won’t force you but his eyes are begging, he knows. As you stand disappointment feels heavy in his gut. But…

The bloodstained rag lands with a thwack in the tub. Your calloused palm rubs the stubble on his cheek before pulling his face to yours. It’s a soft kiss, your mouth warm and inviting. He groans as your hand wraps around his cock.

“Sit,” you whisper against his lips. He lowers to the edge of the tub and you settle between his thighs.

Your fingers trail feather light touches down his chest, your lips following close behind. Lust and adrenaline clear his mind. Even so, there’s nothing but you right now.

Those eyes of yours look up at him, smirk on your full lips. Your tongue languidly runs up the length of him, catching the bead of moisture gathering at his head. His breath stutters and you hesitate.

“Please don’t stop.” He needs this… maybe more than he wants it.

Without hesitation your tongue traces his head before taking the length of him, your eyes never wavering. He hit’s the back of your throat and a growl rumbles in his chest. One hand grips the tub’s edge his other cupping the back of your head.

Lifting up, your hand wraps around his shaft, twisting a touch as your mouth applies the faintest suction to his head. The fingers of your free hand run over his balls and down…

His head falls back. Deft fingers massage the tender flesh just behind his sack while your palm cups his balls, pressing up ever so slightly. After only a few minutes the steady motion… the sound… his exhaustion… everything comes to a peak.

“Y/N… I… I…” The words won’t form. He can’t…

Fingers tangle in your thick hair, his body tenses, and the sound that tears through him is not quite a scream but it’s more than a moan. It reverberates against the tile walls. His body shakes.

When his vision clears he sees you, eye level, brushing a drop of cum from the edge of your grinning mouth. His eyes flutter.

“If you faint on me I swear…”

“No, I… I’m good.” With a shaking hand, he pulls your face to his, kissing you softly. “I am afraid I won’t be able to repay the favor tonight I-”

“Don’t. Consider it a thank you for taking a bullet for me.”

“I didn-”

“Yes, you did.” Your gaze is stern and he knows he can’t argue. He did. He knows he did.

Cleaned up, dressed, and thoroughly spent he lets you lead him to his bed. He winces, as his back meets the mattress.

You sit next to him on the bed, “Do you have anything you can take for pain?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing really works. Perk of being a super soldier…”

“That’s some shit.” He nods. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your gaze shifts away.

Sighing you stand. For reasons he’s too exhausted to identify, panic grips his chest and his hand shoots out for yours.

“Don’t go… please… I… I don’t…” Want to be alone. Are the words his pride just won’t let him say, even now.

Your fingers lace between his, “I wasn’t gonna leave you, Steve. Not like this.” Relief floods his body. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

He tightens his grip. “You don’t have to sleep out there… it’s a big bed.” A hopeful, crooked smile lifts his lips.

“Ok… but I’m stealing a shirt.” Your smile makes your eyes flash and his heart leap.

“Fine by me.”

He drifts off once you disappear into the bathroom only waking when he feels you slide into the bed next to him. Eyes at half mast he reaches out to you. Carefully you let him pull you close.

This… the feeling of you next to him, your hand over his heart, cheek on his chest… he didn’t know how desperately he needed this. Despite the wound in his side and everything in his head, he sleeps hard through the night.

Morning’s light slowly wakes him. Already the serum in his veins has worked overtime, the pain far less than it was last night.

A rustling next to him draws his gaze and warmth fills his chest. He expected you to be gone by morning… Instead, you’re sound asleep, back pressed to his side.

His smile is so wide it makes his cheeks ache a bit. Worried that he’ll wake you if he moves he contentedly dozes, opening his eyes here and there to watch the steady rise and fall of your breath or study the colors of your hair in the sunlight.

He wants to paint you… just like this… He closes his eyes, imagining the canvas.

“Good morning,” your voice sounds petal soft. His eyes open to see your face in the warm light, a soft smile on your lips.

“Morning.” Neither of you says more. Somehow you’re content to study the other… Until your phone begins to blare a song from your pants pocket.

“Shit!” Frantically you scramble up and fish the phone from your pants.

“Hey!” Your tone is forced. Someone screams something on the other end, he can’t quite make out the words though. “Not dead. Sorry… I… I know… I… Wade… Just…” He sees your features shift, “Yeah… Yeah, I got it. Love you too.”

You toss the phone on the end of the bed and rub your hands over your face. The last bit of that conversation had him burning though…

“Boyfriend?”

“What?” Your brows knit. “Oh! Fuck no.” You laugh a little and he feels himself cool. “Best friend. He tipped me off about last night, told me not to get involved…”

“And he’s pissed you didn’t listen.”

“Something like that…” You look at him, eyes… sad.

“Y/N?”

“I have to go…” You catch your bottom lip in your teeth.

He shoots up from the bed, wincing at the pain but not stopped by it. “Why? Do they know you-”

“No,” you hold your hands up, resting them against his chest when he stops in front of you. “They suspect though so it’s best I get the hell outta dodge before they can confirm anything.”

“You don’t have to go…” His voice holds a twinge of desperation. “I can get you S.H.I.E.L.D. protection,” something darkens your features at this but he keeps going, “and I would… look out for you.” He rests his hands on your shoulders.

Your eyes fix to the floor, “I can’t, Steve. It’s too risky for both of us.” The twinge in his chest is alleviated a touch by the look of longing on your face when he tilts your chin up.

“I need you to promise me something.” Your somber tone chills him.

“Ok…”

“Look out for yourself, watch your back. Don’t trust anyone, even S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect you…”

“Y/N… I’ve got good people, you don’t have to-”

“Promise me, Steve. Even good people can be bought.”

“They couldn’t buy you,” he traces the curve of your brow down to your soft, rose-colored lips.

That smirk again, “I’m not good people.”

“Yes, you are.” Pulling you to him he kisses you, hard this time, hungry. A few steps back and he has you pinned against the wall, he can feel your heart thundering in your chest.

“You could stay and have my back,” his lips graze the tender flesh under your ear.

“I can’t,” your voice is thick with emotion. When he looks at you tears shimmer in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Please…” A trembling hand cups his face, “Please, promise me you’ll be smart… don’t-” Your voice cracks but you fight to keep your composure. “Don’t run toward death…”

He’s not certain it’s a promise he can keep but… “I promise, Y/N.” One tear escapes the corner of your eye, he thumbs it away. “But you have to promise the same.”

A bitter laugh pops out, “I’m not the one to worry about here but… yeah. I promise.”

He kisses you again, wanting to hold on to the way it makes his chest burn, the movement of your lips on his the… Feeling of being alive, not just angry, for the first time in a long time.

The two of you say nothing else, each seemingly not trusting what may come from your mouth, as you change. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you, dreading the moment he has to let you go.

“You should definitely get that looked at,” you gesture to the bandage.

“What? Don’t trust your tabletop nursing skills?”

“Absolutely not.”

He slowly stands, “I will.”

Without prompting, you wrap your arms around him, taking care to avoid his injury, and tuck your face in his neck. The two of you stand like that for a while.

There are so many things he wants to say but he doesn’t. He just contents himself with burying his nose in your hair, allowing the warm intimacy of the moment to wash over him.

A heavy sigh tickles over his skin and he knows it’s time to let go.

At the door you turn back to him, eyes glassy once more. “Remember, don’t trust anyone… not with everything.”

“I got it.” One final time his lips press to yours, slow and longing.

Your forehead rests against his, your eyes speaking volumes, as you whisper, “I’ll miss you, Steve Rogers.”

Those three words hit him harder than that bullet had. His mouth hangs slack just a touch.

You smile, “Gonna catch a fly.” Playfully you lift up his chin. “Be safe.”

“You too, Y/N.”

One more kiss… and again… you’re gone.

-

True to form. Steve Rogers surprises you. This time by wheedling his way into your heart and mind so deep you cannot fucking shake him.

To protect you both you don’t call or text, the risk too high. You do, however, send him a letter. There’s no return address and no long written missives. The papers contain numbers, coordinates for a house in Buffalo New York and two words. Love, Zelda With a red lip print over them.

You don’t expect him to come here. All you wanted was for him to know you were safe and that if he needed a place to go he had it.

A few jobs came and went. Winter faded into spring. You began to wonder if maybe you could meet up now if things had quieted enough. Because despite trying desperately to convince yourself otherwise… you desperately missed him.

Then all hell broke loose.

Glued in front of your TV you watch in horror as S.H.I.E.L.D., quite literally falls. You’re blowing up with information from all your contacts. Inbox, dark web forums, everything.

Hours pass that feel like days… No one had reported on Steve’s condition, just that Captain America had been spotted in the fight. A curious numb sensation creeps over you at the thought that he may be gone.

Finally, someone comes through. This time it’s not your usual sources but an old military friend. Rogers was in his hospital, injured but not at risk of death, and no, he wasn’t alone. Someone, a male friend, was with him. Had been the whole time. You nearly sob from relief.

As media attention on the fiasco rises you know there’s no way for you to get close without being spotted. The last thing he needs is to be seen with someone like you. So you allow yourself to be thankful that he’s still here, letting that be enough.

Several weeks later you pass out hard after a long, trying day.

The Hydra files Romanoff released had rocked your world. Nearly everyone you knew had been pinged by those bastards at some point. Including you. This meant everyone was reevaluating their loyalties, cutting ties, and more than a few had already been put down… The fear and paranoia were real and exhausting.  

When a sound from your kitchen hits your ears in the middle of the night you shoot up. Hand already wrapped around the pistol under your pillow. Apparently, this was the day.

Not bothering with formalities like pants, you quietly creep to your cracked bedroom door and nudge it open just enough. Without a sound you stalk down the short hall, breath bated.

All you can see in the dim light is the intruder’s back. Wide, shoulders move as they finish a bottle of whiskey and set it down, not even trying to be quiet. A car passes and illuminates familiar golden hair. Steve…

You lower your gun, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at three in the morning?”

He turns slowly, the shadows making his features almost sinister. “Did you know?” Voice barely above a whisper.

“Know what?” You set the gun on a side table and move to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “About S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Almost too fast for your eyes to follow, he rounds the counter, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you hard against the wall. Your breath is heavy from a mix of fear and maybe a touch of excitement.  

“Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Ok,” your voice breathy as you try to regain composure. “Well for what it’s worth, no, I suspected S.H.I.E.L.D. but I didn’t have anything concrete. Hydra…” Your eyes dart away, “That I did know about…”

“No,” his fingers dig into your upper arms, his breath scented with whiskey. “The Winter Soldier,” he spits the title out, “did you know who he was?!”

You look back to him, brows knit. “Uh… until a few weeks ago I thought he was the bogeyman of criminals… so… no. Should I know him?”

Some of the rage seeps from Steve’s features, “Steve?” You place your hand against his unshaven cheek.

In an instant, his mouth covers yours, warm and whiskey flavored. You almost groan in satisfaction. His massive form presses into you and you savor the sensation.

He runs his hands down your sides as your arms curl around his neck. When he slips his hand in the front of your boy shorts you make a small sound, you already know what he’ll find.

When he feels your moisture, those strong fingers sliding just over your damp folds a grin fills his face but he doesn’t make a move.

“Please,” you echo his request from months before.

That's all it takes. His lips crash against yours, teeth knocking slightly, and two of his fingers slip in, stretching you open. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking, your body hungry for him.

Wanting to touch him your hands move under his shirt, holding his sides as he works your cunt. When his fingers curl up just enough your nails dig into his skin. You feel the tension gather in your abdomen. Wordlessly you beg him not to stop.

“Steve…” Your breath hitches.

His thumb rolls lightly over your clit. Your head would have thudded against the wall had he not cupped it, forcing your gaze to stay on him. His blue eyes burn into you, he picks up the pace, thumb making steady circles over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck… fuck…”

“Come for me,” he growls.

You do. In earth-shattering fashion. Crying out, electricity pulses through your body, your legs tremble, your knees give way. He pulls his hand out of your underwear and catches you, holding your trembling body close.

This lasts only until you feel the length of him move through his denim. That was incredible but you want all of him.

Your unsteady hands reach for his belt. Fingers, that can’t quite obey orders yet try to convince the offending garment to give up its prize. His hands grasp yours, stopping their work.

He kisses you, the distraction enough that you don’t resist him as he spins you toward the island. Strong hands turn you, pressing your back to his chest.

Lips trail down your neck, goosebumps cover your skin. He catches the hem of your tee and pulls it over your head. Not trusting your legs to hold you, your hands brace against the counter and his teeth bite at the soft flesh where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Steve,” you breathe out.

The tinkling of his belt buckle hits your ears and fuck, a zipper going down had never sounded so promising.

His hand wraps lightly around your throat, tilting your head back just under his chin. “How do you want it?” His voice burning velvet.

Your eyes flit to his, “Give me everything. Don’t hold back.” Lust sparks in his eyes and he kisses you breathless.

Moving your underwear to the side with one hand and pressing your chest to the counter with the other he slams the full length of his cock into you. You gasp raggedly, body pressing back to him. This is the best kind of hurt.

Steel fingers dig into your hips holding you steady as he fucks you so hard you forget anything else. Your moans and cries mingle with his low sounds. Everything is this.

His hands release you but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Vaguely, you’re aware of something falling to your side. When he grabs a fistful of your hair pulling you up against him you realize it was his shirt, his burning flesh pressed to your own.

The other hand dips into your sopping boy shorts and effortlessly locates your clit once more, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Look at me,” he says in a gravel tone. You do as he asks and a whimper slips from you, his fingers and cock driving you mad. “You like that, baby?”

Words are lost. He fills your parted lips with a kiss and you fill his mouth with your cries of pleasure as you come once more.

You can hardly breathe now, much less stand. With a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, he lifts you into his arms. Your hungry mouth kisses and nibbles the salty skin of his neck as he carries you back to your room.

Tossing you on the bed he slips out of his jeans and you free yourself of your underwear. For a moment he just stares at you, on your back in the dim space, legs spread, waiting for him to take you.

Moving with the fluidity of a big cat he hovers over you. Your hands trail over the solid muscles of his back, fascinated at the power housed in this body.

This time he enters you slowly. Your legs wrap around him and a low rumble vibrates through his chest.

“Y/N,” he hums next to your ear.

You grab his face, bringing it up so you can see him. His breath is ragged. Intentionally you tighten your walls against him his lids flutter and a soft moan falls from his lips.

His pace quickens and your body responds, hips rising to meet him, demanding evermore.

“Fuck,” he breathes out grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand. The other lifts your head to more easily kiss you.

“C-can I,” he stutters between kisses.

“Yes,” your legs tighten around him, “god yes.”

He roars, your back arches up, moan raw tearing from some hidden place in you. Then there’s nothing but the soft sounds of your panting breaths.

Steve’s body shakes, the weight of it on you strangely comforting. When he looks at you all the rage and fire are gone, replaced with a mournful sadness. The past few weeks had been hard on you… they had to be hell on earth for him.

Tenderly you kiss him. “Stay here.”

His brows knit, “You sure…? I… I… don’t…”

“Hush,” your fingers try to coax the lines of his forehead into relaxing. “I want you to stay.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t protest more. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything. He does let you hold him. At times you think he may be crying but his cheeks are dry despite his labored breathing.

You’re drifting off, for now resting your head on his chest, when he asks, “Do you like your bed?”

“Huh?” You aren’t sure your groggy brain understood.

“Your bed. Do you… like it?”

You consider for a minute. “It’s ok. Kinda soft.” Honestly, you could never find the right firmness.

He laughs a little, “Apparently it’s a complaint a lot of Vets have. Bed’s being too soft.”

Leaning up on an elbow you look down at him, “Ya know… You’re right. Friend’s of mine complained about that too. Sometimes…” You shake your head a bit at yourself, “Sometimes I even sleep on the floor if I can’t fall asleep in my bed.”

Steve softly caresses the side of your face, a weak smile on his lips, “Me too.”

“Do you want to?” Hopping off the bed you pull the comforter off, not giving him time to answer. “Grab the pillows. No need to deny ourselves that small comfort.”

“We don’t… I wasn’t…”

You’re already laying the comforter on the ground. “I want to. Now come on.”

He brings the pillows over and arranges them while you grab another blanket for you both to cover up with. Quickly the two of you settle down.

After a while, Steve whispers into your hair, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for, Rogers.”

“Yeah, I do.” You look up at him, his eyes glassy in the dim light. “You saw all of me… the darkest parts… from the beginning and you didn’t run away.”

“Technically…” You tease.

“Shut up,” he smiles but a tear finally works it’s way free. You brush it away.

“You’re not alone, Steve. We all have our dark sides. I’m right there with you.”

He nods, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Now the tears come. Silent at first and he doesn’t let you brush them away or offer him comfort of any kind. He just hides his face, one knee pulled up. When the sobs start you don’t let him push you away.

You can’t fathom the depth of his grief. Everything and everyone he lost… now he had the one thing that gave him stability ripped from under his feet… You don’t have to truly understand it to anchor him though.

Captain America may look out for everyone else. He may be the beacon and hero the country, hell the world, needs right now… But you, you would look out for Steve Rogers. No matter what.

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #LDMWC

[nightlymantras]

Turn right.

A/n: this is my fill for "Little Darlin’s Marvelous Writing Challenge" hosted by @littledarlinhavefaithinme I took prompt 25 and thought that's for Nat. I want to thanks everyone who voted for fluff or angst for it. And fluff won by majority, so here's another Natasha fluff!

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader.

Natasha was pissed. Scratch that, she was a hair away from an outburst and right with the person nobody at the team would guess, her girlfriend.

They were on their way back to the tower after having just completed a mission, a successful, though hard one. The selected team being Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha and her girlfriend. Even though it was successful, there was a tense mood in the jet, each one pretending to do something, no one dared to break the silence.

Natasha was at the cockpit, not looking or talking to anyone, Bucky and Steve side by side looking at a tablet, Nat's girl at the very end seat, with a large wound on her arm, bruises that would be very dark by the morning and Wanda at her side looking at each one expecting something.

Natasha was leading this mission instead of Steve, who was with Bucky  on the main site while Wanda gave everyone support, Nat could only give directions to her girl and not be near her as she would usually be. She was known to deviate a bit from plans and take risks, but in a team with Bucky and Steve she was a saint, also, Nat would give her backup and keep her ass from being kicked, so it never really became a problem. Until of course, tonight.

" котенок, I need you to take a turn right." Nat ordered through the coms.

"Right." Was her girlfriend quick reply. Except she didn't.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a turn."

"I said turn right."

"I heard it."

"So why the hell are you going left?"

"It will be faster."

"It might get you hurt. Go back and turn right."

"Don't worry I'll be okay!"

"Typical last words. Get your ass back."

"I'm close."

"Get the hell back."

And she didn't. She took the left turn while Nat muttered a string of Russian curses that earned a heartfelt laugh from Bucky, and a few reactions from Wanda and Steve.

But she did came back with what was needed with the happiest puppy face in the world, only to turn to a kicked one once she saw the face Natasha looked at her.

Now in the jet, the tension was thick. Until for some reason Bucky decided to poke the tiger.

"Good mission tonight, right?" He said out loud with a smug face looking right at Nat's girlfriend eyes, who looked back at him in shock. Steve nudged Bucky's leg while Wanda looked at him incredulous.

It was all that was needed to get a reaction from Natasha, who replied in a weirdly chipper tone, without turning to look at them:

"It was a success, wasn't it? котенок?"

"Bucky? Why?!"She whispered to dark haired man, to which he replied in a whispered sing song voice with the smuggest face he had:

"Someone's in trouble..."

"Steve!" She whispered to the blond man looking for help, but Steve was looking everywhere other than her, with an also smug face.

The rest of the trip was quick and mostly silent. When they arrived and the medical check was done, she went to the room she shared with Natasha, hopping to get a quiet bath and sleep before the red-haired got to her.

She was in the bathroom undressing, when Natasha spoke, giving her an almost heart attack.

"Hey принцесса."

"Nat! What the hell, you scared me!" She said with a hand on her chest.

She turned to see Natasha at the bathroom door frame, still in her suit with arms crossed and a scowl in her face.

"I did? How does it feel?"

"Nat please, you don-"

“You disobeyed me.”

“I know but-”

“No buts- you deliberately disobeyed me.”

"But it all worked out, there's no-"

"It all worked out because of luck! I can spend the rest of the night pointing out everything that could go horribly wrong!"

"But it didn't! I am here, right here!"

Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes and throwing her head back. Their voices were getting louder at each answer.

"We're in a mission and I gave you an order, but you ditched it!"

"Steve and Bucky do this every goddamn time and I don't see you pissed about it! "

"Really?! Are you even hearing yourself? Maybe because those asses can jump off a building and don't break a thing!"

Nat's girlfriend went still for a couple of seconds. There wasn't a comeback for that so she raised her arms dramatically in surrender and turned back to continue to undress and take a bath, unfortunately for her she did it all too fast in the heat of the moment and the stitches in her arm opened as did the gashes on her torso were she was hit hard enough to cut open the skin. She let out a breathless scream and Natasha rushed to her side to keep her from falling.

"дорогой, what happened? Is everything all right?" Asked Natasha with wide eyes, guiding her girlfriend to the bed.

"I... guess it opened."

Natasha muttered a curse, but bit back the 'I told you so' in the tip of her tongue. She carefully guided her girlfriend to sit on the bed.

"Nat, I need a bath."

"Let me take care of this first."

Natasha helped her slowly undress the top part of her suit, mindful to not make anything worse. She went to a drawer in the bathroom and took a first aid kit with all she would need to tend the wounds, returning quickly and kneeling between her girlfriend legs she started taking care of the wound on her arm.

After some silence, her girlfriend spoke:

"Nat, I'm sorry. I should have followed you."

Natasha frowned a little then said:

"You should, but it's not about that."

"Then it's about what?" She asked with a small voice and a pained, confused expression.

"It's about you not returning."

They stared at each other in silence, then closed the distance to let their foreheads touch for a while. She gave Natasha a chaste kiss on her forehead and Nat resumed taking care of her wounds.

She should take a bath, but tiredness got to her earlier and at some point she couldn't remember she fell asleep on the bed. Natasha had already finished tending to her wounds, but she didn't have it in her to wake her girlfriend who was now deep in sleep, the wounds were cleaned and patched, so she took off her girlfriend's boots and eased what was possible for her to be comfortable. Natasha herself should take a bath, but alas, she got in much, much worse conditions before, so she took her suit and her underwear off and made herself comfortable by her girlfriend's side. They could take care of the mess and a shower together by the morning.

#natasha romanoff x reader #LDMWC #marvel challenge #my writing

[katiekat1321]

Something Worth Losing

A/N: So this was written for @littledarlinhavefaithinme‘s marvelous writing challenge. I had prompt #18 “How dangerous,” she thought, “to finally have someone worth losing”. I hope everyone enjoys it, I’ve never written for Peter before so this was different for me. I usually write for the Misunderstood Boys (Loki and Bucky), but I have a few other one-shot ideas for Peter X Reader stories in the future!

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

1523 words

You were a Stark, Tony Stark’s only daughter, to be more specific. And yes, that came with all the glamour, fun, and stress anyone could imagine. But it also meant that you got a front row seat to all of your father’s struggles he never let the public know about, like his anxiety attacks and PTSD. You could see the pain he tried to hide away, you could see it in the other Avengers too. You could see Bruce struggling with his self-worth, thinking he wasn’t as useful as the Hulk was to the team. Steve struggled with fitting into the century he now found himself living in and sometimes you caught him crying softly, in the dead of night, about the simplicity and the life he missed out on. Once you had even had a long and very deep conversation with Thor about his struggles with understanding Loki’s behavior and how his brother was not the monster that the Battle of New York made him seem appear be; he was often wrestling with his thoughts to connect the brother he grew up and loved so dearly with all the chaos Loki had caused in the last couple years.

To any normal person, you would see all that pain and hardship and want to steer clear of such a path. Tony especially didn’t want you involved in Avengers business. He dreamed of you working with Pepper and one day taking over Stark Industries, leading it down a better path than he ever did. But you were a Stark, which meant you were strong-willed and hard to deter once you’ve made up your mind. So when you showed up to a mission in a suit of your own design that you built by hacking your father’s computers for schematics and had F.R.I.D.A.Y. help you to create, he knew there was no stopping you. “I want to help you. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone, Dad,” you told him before your mask snapped shut and you blasted an enemy. He was incredibly proud, but was already seeing upgrades he would want to make to your armour.

That mission was hard, they thought they lost Clint there for a minute, so having another set of eyes there was actually a big help. But that night your dad sat you down for a talk. “You’ve got to upgrade that armor,” he started jokingly. It was his style to start light and joking before getting to his real point. “Why on Earth would you think a bulletproof onesie with blasters and a face mask was a good design? You look like a knock-off Mega Man out there, it leaves you too open and vulnerable.”

You snorted at the comparison, but rolled your eyes. “It gives me more mobility. The hand cannons can retract up my arm so I can have my hands free. I tried a suit in your style. I thought it was too clunky for me.”

“Oh, so you’re out here for one day and I’m already the old model?” Tony asks. You nod, but give him a look that tells him that the joking is over and to say what he needs to. “Okay, okay. Enough beating around the bush… I know I can’t stop you from being an Avenger. You’re almost an adult. You’re a genius, you’re welcome for that by the way. That is all thanks to my genes! Plus you already have your own suit so you’ll be out there fighting for the people regardless of what I say. But Honey, I have one piece of advice. D-don’t, don’t fall in love, don’t have a family.” You froze, this was not where you expected this to go. “I know that sounds awful coming from your old man, but with this line of work it just adds more worry and anxiety. Everyday I wake up and check on you and Pepper in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still safe. Because of my choice to become Iron Man, I put you two in harm's way. Any day a villain or lunatic could kidnap you or kill you to get to me or just send a message.”

“You mean like what happened with Pepper a few years ago with the Mandarin?” You asked.

“Exactly, and I’ll never forgive myself for letting that happen. Every mission could be my last and I won’t get to say goodbye. I’ll just be leaving you two forever. I do not regret you or Pepper, not even a little, but I imagine it would just be easier to not get attached at all…”

For a long time those words haunted you. It became a rule you lived by. You never got into relationships, for other people’s safety. That was until the “Civil War”, as the media jokingly referred to it, settled. You didn’t see eye to eye with your father. You thought the accords were a mistake brought on by your dad’s fear and guilt. You left the complex with Steve and the others, but you also refused to fight your father and teammates. So you stayed hidden away in Berlin while the chaos ensued at the airport and later stayed in Wakanda to keep watch over Bucky while Steve, Wanda, Natasha, and Sam went on missions. It wasn’t until both sides came to an armistice agreement of sorts a few months later that you met Peter Parker.

You and Peter became fast friends since you about the same age, give or take some months. And you were both working in the same area of the lab on upgrades for everyone’s gear, because as you learned from Shuri, just because something works, doesn’t mean it cannot be improved. That is about when you noticed you were catching feelings for him, and it kind of scared the shit out of you. After all this time, following your father’s advice, seeing the practicality of it, you were crushing on Peter Parker.

You tried your best to push those feelings aside, you buried them deep inside of your heart. All the thoughts of how handsome he looked when he was focusing on an equation and how perfect he was when he would show up for the team movie night with your favorite candy were locked away into the back of your mind. And you thought that it was working just fine until one night, when you and Peter were out on patrol in Queens, you were knocked out of the sky by some asshole with a Chitauri blaster. You were knocked unconscious and started free falling towards the ground. You would have probably been seriously injured, or worse, if Peter hadn’t caught you. Within a couple minutes you jolted awake.

You tried to look around to figure out what exactly happened and reorient yourself, but Peter was holding you too tightly to his chest. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, so even though you almost died, you started sooth him. “I thought I was going to lose you…” He said, “Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

Please don’t say it,  you thought to yourself, don’t make this harder for both of us…

“I like you so much, more than a friend,” Peter admitted. “I don’t care what Mr. Stark thinks, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I love you so much Y/n and I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. I just needed you to know that, even if you don’t feel that way. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened and you didn’t know because I was too nervous to say anything.”

For a moment you couldn’t reply. This wasn’t the most well-timed or romantic confession, sure. And yeah, Peter kind of rambled and looked so nervous he could puke. But it was Peter, and he loved you, and whatever walls you had built up had been broken down by this adorably handsome dork you knew you loved so much.

“Oh Peter… Let’s talk more about this when we get back to the compound okay? We don’t know where the guy that shot me out of the sky went and I’d rather he not find us, okay?” You knew you both had to get the hell out of there. That area wasn’t safe, it was only logical that you leave now, but the way Peter’s face fell made your heart break. “But um… I feel the same way Peter,” You added. “This is just the wrong time to stop and talk. We need to move, quick.”

Peter’s frown quickly turned into a relieved smile as he pulled his mask back over his face and yours snapped shut over your head again. You took off and hovered a few feet off the ground to watch Peter swing away, just for a moment, before shooting off back towards the pick up point where Happy would be waiting for both of you. How dangerous, you thought to yourself, to finally have something worth losing...

#stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #LDMWC #peter parker #spiderman

[chuuulip]

The Lady & The Butler

Prompt: “You really shouldn’t be so trusting,” he sneered in her face. “The world is a dangerous place.”

Pairing:  James “Bucky’ Barnes x Reader (platonic)

Warning: Mention of drugs, rape, under some influence (nothing graphic happening I guess) I just mention that to make it clear.

*So this is the second time I tried to write something and it turns out longer than I intend to do 🙈 This is for ‘Little Darlin’s Marvelous Writing Challenge’ by @littledarlinhavefaithinme  I haven’t really checked the grammar thou. I have quite the trouble with it, especially in long writing things, so hopefully, it was cleared enough. Ok sorry for my rambling 🙈

***

Grogginess was heavy when you try to open your eyelids. Blinking heavily, you try to retrieve everything from the last couple of hour event. Try to adjust to your surroundings, you sure that you never been going to this room before. The room is typically dim, but you can see the only table with uncorked champagne and some variety of liquor and classic sofa. The feel of expensive silk bed sheet was unmistakable to your skin, however, your inability to move, even your finger raised you into an alarmed state. You try to calm yourself and attempt to absorb the surrounding that engulfed the situation. The sound of the door open made you alert, although you flail miserably to move anything besides your own eyes.

“Well…well…well… aren't you a sight for a sore eyes dear?” Bryan comes up to your sight, presenting you with that sinister smile. His fingers come out to your cheeks, unabashedly caress it. He doesn’t stop and glides it down to your neck and further going south to rest on your hip, toying with a small ribbon there. “I would like to show you my exclusive empire milady.” If you didn’t know any better, you might mistake Bryan to whisper sweet things to your ear. You can help but regret your unnecessary fight with Bucky after the dinner party.

“Ben, bring that wheelchair!” Bryan sat across the bed from you, a glass of champagne in hand while waiting for his henchman. A big man with a broad shoulder and a bald head appear in the small room, gliding something that you assumed is a wheelchair, and bring it to stop at the left side of the bed. “Hold the chair, I need to show my beautiful girl the party we host tonight.” Bryan showed you that broad sinister smile that sends a chill throughout your body. He slowly scopes you gently from the bed. You can feel his left hand under your knee and his right hand under your shoulder, carrying you bridal style to the wheelchair. Ben is dutifully holding the wheelchair while Bryan adjusted your neck position.

“I know it’s uncomfortable that you are paralyzed now and can’t move anything. But I promised you that the effect will wear in thirty minutes or so. Here I will give you something.” Bryan pulls out some small bottle from the inside pocket of his suit. His left fingers tilt your chin, hands grasp the jaw to steady and try to open the mouth. A drop of a clear liquid touched the surface of your tongue. The clear liquid quickly absorbs and ingested without being swallowed.

“Ok let’s get the party started.” Bryan beaming at you while pushing the wheelchair out from the bedroom. Ben, the henchman open the door and followed behind you and Bryan. The stroll to the said ‘party’ is something you never thought of. Laid off in the front of your eyes isn’t a party but more of an act of indecent, a sex club of some short, or so you thought.

“Agent, can you hear me?” Bucky voice faintly comes out from the small com that connected to your earrings and you never been gladder than before. Worrying that there isn’t update from your partner in a mission was stressful enough, especially when no one knows where the actual fuck you are right now.

Confident that the serum finally works, you want to provoke Bryan to find out where he held you hostage. “Is…Is…”

“Hold on. Ben brings some water would you?” Ben quickly retrieves some glass of water. Bryan holding the glass full of water to your mouth. Although hesitate, you gulp the water to clear your throat.

“Is this what you mean with your ‘empire’?” Your voice was strained, but it can come out clear enough that hopefully can be heard by Bucky.

“Oh god, finally. Where are you agent?” Bucky voice is clearer now, but obviously, you can’t reply to him, not when Bryan standing next to you.

“Exactly,” Bryan said to you gleefully. “Do you found anyone familiar?” He asked while trying to maneuver the wheelchair from left to right. The wheelchair motion gives you a clear description of the big room. The room has a big circle in the center with a heavy chandelier on top of it. Several big black leather sofas were decorating the room. Tables are spares in the big room, full with liquor, something looks suspiciously like chocolate, flowers, and drugs. Men who look more appropriate to be in the same age as your father or probably a grandfather were enjoying the liquor all the woman, or more likely ‘girls’ served them. You suspiciously found someone familiar. In fact, the said man is walking closer to you and Bryan, hands draped on a top of two girls that dress in daring transparent lingerie that mostly didn’t cover anything.

“Oh Bryan, is this new girl for me?” The man, who is an ex-senator greedily, eyeing you from head to toe.

“Apologized sir but this one here, is mine. I will not share her in the near future. But don’t worry, I already saved you some new girl, fresh. We meet today inmeet and greet. First-year college student, ripe and has a great body. Definitely your type.” Your eyes bugged. How the hell he can ask all these girls to be in this party, especially when none of them don’t look like typical girls enjoying all this over sexual party with an old man. Bryan definitely smooth talk the old man and asked Ben to bring the said new girl to the room waited for the ex-senator.

***

Shit, this definitely not going as what Furry plan.  “Agent, can you try to provoke him and tell me where you are right now? Stark tries to track you from the GPS in your bracelet but I and the other stuck in the backstage concert.” Bucky tries to calm his heart rate. Missing an agent in a mission that looks this simple was definitely something he wasn't prepared before. Ok calm down, I can find her.

“Where are we?” Bucky stilled while hearing your voice through the comm. “Oh, we are just in my enormous house.” That prick.

“I will never think you will host this just under the basement in your house at the upper east.”

“Tinman, do you know where she is?” Bucky looks to his right and seeing Tony Stark dressed in a black suit, followed by Natasha in her black widow suit. Bucky pressed the com in his ear and make a ‘silent’ motion with his finger, hearing any further information from you.

“Oh dear…don't you worry, you will soon be joining the party with me in that bedroom.” Bucky is angry. He has a clear description of what you are getting yourself into.

“Barnes.” Natasha tried to call him out. Both Tony and Natasha were surprised when Bucky punching the wall with his metal arm.

“Don’t worry agent we will save you.” Bucky running and tell Tony to ask for the team to go the upper east, to Bryan house.

***

“How can you manage all these girls to participate at your party? They definitely desired your company, not all these old man.”

“You, my dear is definitely intelligent.” You can feel Bryan fingers running from your shoulders and down to your fingers. Feeling disgusting is understandable but right now coaxing him to reveal everything while waiting for the team to save you is more reasonable. You are sat on his lap, back to his chest. He positioned both of you in one of the black leather sofas. All the girls and men in the other sofas are making out, on display for your eyes to see.

“These girls are a groupie. They attend my concert and love coming to meet and greet. However, obviously, they are here because I can control them.”

“You what?”

“Hypnotized them are more likely the right term. I am a mutant my dear, and that’s kind of my ability. What can I do is only hypnotized them, I can’t read their mind and using them more than that definitely taxing.” This revelation definitely cleared off the fog. You still need to ask for more evidence, although killing the man is more tempting at the time. Sadly you are not an assassin.

“How you managed to do it then?”

“You are a curious one aren’t you?” Bryan abruptly picking you up bridal style and step back to the room where you were staying before. Ben helped to open the door for him while Bryan settling you back on the bed. He made a nodded motion with his head and Ben left you alone with Bryan.

You can help observed that Bryan suspiciously looks like he is undressing. You try to move your body, but nothing budge, only the tip of the fingers can make a small motion and now your stress was tenfold than before.

“I give them some kind of drug.” Throwing off his suit on the floor, Bryan slowly unbuttoned his white shirt one by one. “This drug will make them intoxicated, high and aroused and sex is the only thing that can help them flush it. Of course, they will wake up and not knowing what happened the previous day and I will get the extra cash from the gentleman outside”

The bed dipped when Bryan sat on the bed, showing you two handcuffs with that sinister smile. You gulped, eyes darting from him to the door “So now you will hypnotize me or you will drug me?” Slowly Bryan put the handcuff in your left hand and secured it to the part of the headboard. After finished with the left hand, he continued doing the right hand. “You, my dear are an exception. I will not hypnotize you nor drug you. I want you to feel all the things I want to do to you.” He smiles that sinister smile again and starts nibbling your ear hungrily.

You sighed when Bryan pulled out from you but that didn’t last long. He took off his pants and come back to the bed with a scissor. “Although this lingerie looks so exquisite on you, I don’t want any barrier between us dear.” He starts cutting the lingerie dress from the bottom to the top, exposing your breast to the chilled air. “Oh, how beautiful…” He is eyeing you, pupil blown wide full of lust. Kissing your cheek down to your neck, and you can help the tears that flow from your eyes. “You are gross and disgusting!”

“You really shouldn’t be so trusting.” He sneered in her face. “The world is a dangerous place.” He laughs at you maniacally. His fingers come down to reach the waistband of your thin layer underwear. You shut your eyelids, helplessly grasp the handcuffs and realized that you can finally move it.

The door open with a bang and the door was dislodged from its side, making a dent on the wall. “Barnes…” You have never been so hopeful in your life when you see the former assassin.

“Get the fuck off of her!” Bucky’s voice was harsh and angry. Bryan was surprised, he didn’t prepare for any interruption and clearly not from the winter soldier. Quickstep to the bed and Bucky hold Bryan's shoulders and throw him from the bad. He is still wearing his undercover clothes, the butler costume although both gloves are missing and the metal hand gleaming under the light in the room.

Bucky walks straight to Bryan, he was on the floor when Bucky punching his face with his metal arm. You can hear the crack sounds, Bryan certainly fractures his jaw. Bucky launched another punch at Bryan but stopped once you call him. “Barnes, he is not worth it.” Bucky left Bryan on the floor with a blood pooling from his nose and mouth. Bucky averted his eyes when he saw your condition but he hurriedly demolished both the chain that handcuffed your hands, although the parts of it still attached on your wrist.

Bucky took off his Butler suit and help you wearing it to cover your nakedness. He unmade the silk sheet and wrapped it to your midsection. In the midst of helping you to dress, no one aware that Bryan pulled out a small gun from his pants on the floor. When you realized what Bryan is doing, it was too late. He pulled the trigger and shot Bucky on his back.

“No…no…. Barnes.” Bucky stumbling on your lap on the bed. With blood running on his face and an unmade jaw, Bryan walked closer to the bed, gun pointing at you. Everything happened so fast that you didn’t aware Bryan pulled another trigger. Instead of receiving the bullet, Bucky made the last attempt to shield you and it adds another hole on Bucky’s back. Blood pooling on your lap made a stain in the suits and the sheet on your body. You hold Bucky closer to you and hope for any God that hears you to send some help.

“Kiddo.” Tony shows up on the room in his armor and followed by Steve. Bryan was put down immediately by Tony while Steve instantly helping you.

“Steve, Barnes has been shoot and the blood. Oh my god, Steve helps him please.” Super soldier or not, losing a lot of blood never been a good situation.  

“Malyshka are you all right?” Natasha rushes to your aid, helping you after Steve tried to pick up Bucky from your lap. Consciousness seems to be taken from you and the last thing you remember said to Natasha was to save him.

***

Woken up to harsh light never feels better for you. You can faintly smell the sterile odor that emitted from the medical wing in Stark tower. You push the small red button near your bed, not over a minute pass, a nurse and Tony appear in your room. The nurse diligently checks up your condition and informed Tony that she will ask Dr. Cho to review your condition.

Tony can sense that you want to talk about the last mission. He brings you a glass of water with a straw to help you drink. “The mission was successful although there were things that shouldn’t need to happen.” You just nodded at Tony and listen to his explanation. “We actually catch a very bad person, thanks to you and Tinman, we not only caught a dangerous mutant but also help stop his unethical business.”

“What about the girls?”

“They have been rescued and we got extra help from SHIELD. I guess furry will handle any problem related to them. Don’t worry, every single person that was in that club last night were also caught. Although the ex-senator, it was kind of a surprise for me. Never thought he was one of the clients, disgusting man.”

“…and the drugs. Did he produce it himself? Or you found out the supplier?”

“About that, we still investigated it. I am not sure if Furry and Shield will take over the investigation or not, but looks likely he will.”

After finishing your drink, you try to move away from the bed but Tony forbids you to stand up. “Kiddo you don’t need to hurry. Here, let me help you to sit on your chair.” Tony accidentally hold your hand but you can’t help to detach yourself from him. Tony put his hands up in surrender and called the nurse to help you on the wheelchair instead.

“Sorry, Tony. I feel a little bit uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok Kid. I think there was something more happened that only you and Barnes know?” he quirks his eyebrow and satisfied with your silent answer.

“I know you want to ask about Barnes, well…I will just send you to his room then. Don’t worry too much about him. Two bullets hole will never kill him, although the blood lost kind of freak us out, thanks to Steve we have enough blood to transfuse to him. Both you and Tony finally arrived at Bucky’s room in the medical wing. Bucky is asleep, bare chest cover in a thick bandage that probably the place where the bullet was before the surgeries.

“Ok, I left you here. Both of you need to cool down and talk things out. We don’t need another civil war in the team. Ask FRIDAY if you need anything” You can help but laugh at the irony.

“Thanks, Tony. “ You smile and wave at Tony.

Your wheelchair was set in the left side of Bucky’s bed. Ever so slowly, you put your fingers in his metal arm fingers and squeezed it a bit. The cold metal arm was a contrast to your human one, and it’s definitely a new foreign sensation that’s not uncomfortable that you ever felt.

“Thank you…James, for saving my life. There’s a lot of things we need to clear up when you awake.” And that was the moment you feel his metal arm move under your small human hands.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#ldmwc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fanfic #james bucky barnes x reader #undercover agent #chuuulip #chuuulip post #prompt

[unfallen-angel]

Agendas

Not my gif, but it’s one of my favorites!

This is for Little Darlin’s Marvelous Writing Challange! The prompt is:

#22 - “Murder wasn’t on today’s agenda.” “It’s not on anyone’s.” “No, it’s on mine, just not until next Thursday.”  

Bucky Barnes X f!Reader

Warning: Slight NSFW and some language.

When I originally chose this prompt I had the perfect idea of this conversation, but as I was writing it... It took a completely different turn. Let me know what you think! I know I’m cutting it kind of close to the wire.

@littledarlinhavefaithinme

“Do you have eyes on him?” Falcon’s voice crackled across your ear piece.

“Negative. I have no idea where he is. I saw him go in the east entrance, but it’s been quiet since then. No movement at all.” You keep your voice low, eyes scanning in different levels of the building through the large glass windows.

“Dammit! Where did he go? This is supposed to be an Intel mission, not an assassination!” Falcon mutters. You can hear him shift his weight as he repositions.

You reach up and click a button to switch over to Bucky’s channel. “Where in the seven hells are you?”

No answer.

“You’re supposed to be observing, not doing anything idiotic!” You mutter into the silence with an eye roll. There are three distinct pops and then more silence. With your left hand you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh before switching back to Sam’s channel. “He did it. Let’s move.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but you could almost hear him fuming. He turned off his COM and you knew he was already in the jet waiting.

And then you could see him. Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The fucking STUPID Winter Soldier who was just a little too trigger happy sometimes. He walked out the front doors nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his black tactical pants and sunglasses covering in stormy blue eyes. Your heart did a little skip as his eyes landed on your position on the roof across the street and he shrugged his shoulders just slightly, almost imperceptibly. Rolling your eyes, you gather your bag and jump lightly from one rooftop to the next.

The ride back to the mansion was silent. You snuck an occasional glance at Bucky, who smirked back at you each time he caught you looking.

Tony and Natasha were waiting at the door as soon as the jet touched down. “Alright, Robocop, what part of ‘DO NOT KILL THE TARGET’ do you not understand? It seems to be simple enough. You go, watch for a little while, gather some important, useful information, and then you come home. No guns required!” Tony’s voice was soft as he looked up at the three of you with disdain. “Fury very well could have you grounded from missions for a month.”

“I had an opening and I took it. No one saw a thing. No one heard a thing. I’m a Russian ninja after all,” he retorts and tucks his long hair behind his ear. “Fury will get over it.”

Tony’s face turned 6 different shades of red as he stood there trying to form the words to yell at the Soldier.

“Alright then. I think everyone could use a few hours to calm down and collect themselves. We can go over everything at the debriefing tonight,” you say loudly, trying to cut through some of the tension in the air. Sam just nods and puts his arm around Tony’s shoulder, muttering something under his breath as they walk into the compound. Nat just rolls her eyes and follows them without a backward glance at you and Bucky.

“He’s pissed.”

“Uh… yeah he’s pissed, Bucky, you completely disobeyed orders,” you snap and shoulder your bag, trying not to let your irritation with him be too obvious.

“His orders,” he mutters under his breath. You open your mouth to ask what he meant, but when you turn around he’s already done.

Damn Russian ninja.

After you deposit your bag in the weapons room, you head to your room for a hot shower. Maybe the hot water with help dissipate some of your irritation. And it does. With your hair wrapped in a towel and an oversized t-shirt, you curl up on your bed and close your eyes. A soft knock pulls you from your daydreams. “Yeah?”

Bucky’s form appears in the doorway and he smiles sheepishly at you. “Are you less bristly now?” he asks quietly.

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh softly and sit up with your back against the pillows. He sits beside you and twines his fingers through yours, rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. “You’re so stubborn sometimes, did you know that?”

He shrugs his large shoulders and places a tender kiss on your cheek. “Were you worried about me?”

“No,” you say indignantly.

“You were! You were worried about me,” he teases and places another soft kiss on your nose. His lips barely brushing across your skin, sending little shivers down your spine.

“Of course I was. I’m always worried about you because you’re so reckless! You never listen to anyone. You never actually do what’s on the agenda-”

“Agenda?!” He laughs and pokes at your side. “No one really has an agenda anymore, doll.”

“We did! We had an agenda!” You try to twist away from his relentless fingers. “Murder wasn’t on today’s agenda!”

He just laughs and it’s a deep, throaty laugh. It’s heaven. “It’s not on anyone’s agenda!” He replies and wraps his arms firmly around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest.

“No, it’s on mine, just not until next Thursday,” you say matter of factly and nuzzle your nose against his neck, his scruff tickling your skin.

“You would schedule something like that.” He tries to sound exasperated, but he chuckles.

“What can I say? I’m just an organized person. I get my hair done, I go shopping, I schedule out my assassinations. I’m booked up weeks in advance.”

“I guess you’re just that good, huh?” Bucky places kiss after chaste kiss along your jawline and neck. His fingers slide lightly up your inner thigh, his teasing touch getting higher and higher. “Wonder what else you’re that good at?” He asks suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. His blue eyes darken with lust as he gazes down at you in nothing but a t-shirt, his shirt. A blush creeps into your cheeks as he openly admires you.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know,” you giggle as he pulls you into a heated kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. The fingers of his flesh hand knot in your hair as the cool metal of his other slips under your shirt.

In a matter of moments the two of you are nothing but a tangle of limbs and sheets, and you know that neither of you are going to that debriefing tonight, but neither of you care as you get lost in each other.

THANKS FOR READING! 

please let me know what you think!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #LDMWC #writing challenge #Avengers #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x female reader #assassin #No agendas

[ruckystarnes]

Characters: OFC-Constance Wallace, Misty Knight, Stever Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sharon “Carter” Zemo, Helmut Zemo

Words: 2,509

Pairing: Misty Knight x OFC-Constance Wallace

Warnings: drug use, insinuated F/F sex, death

Royal Pain Masterlist

Playlist

These were her people, the only ones that Constance felt completely normal around and not one person questioned who she was. Everyone was vetted before joining The Hive, giving everyone a sense of security and belonging to a family that accepted them. Heavy bass and Rapture made sure everyone was receiving what they were there...forgetting. There was too much that Constance wanted to forget and she visited regularly on Thursdays. She needed to forget who she was and what her life was like; it was too much for one twenty-seven year old to deal with in this modern age.

The music was blaring something that barely could be registered as the bass was vibrating the walls, lights, and anything that could bend to the soundwaves. It was what the crowd thrived on, the beat took over their bodies and had them moving, to some, erratically, but each movement had fluidity to it that only made sense to anyone who visited the scene on a regular basis. So it didn’t concern Constance any when a woman wrapped her arm around her middle and started to sway provocatively, eyes closed as ecstasy was the only expression worn by dark beauty.  The sight was inviting, Constance’s own hand moved the woman’s waist, pulling her closer to match her new partner’s hips swaying and took in the goddess that chose her. It only took one song and hands were traveling over arms and sides, her enchantress wove her hands into Constance’s mahogany locks, tugging her in for a heated kiss, one that Constance was all too pleased to return, accepting the small pill that laid against her ebony rose’s tongue. It would take a few moments for the euphoria to set in, but the tugging on her hand suggested that what the woman was promising was coming much sooner. The blue hallway was long, adorned with black doors, most with red lights on above to note occupancy, but there was one nestled between occupied rooms for them.

“Sampeyan sing ayu, Puteri,” the woman smiled, her fingers dancing up Constance’s arm. The words made Constance blush and shake her head. “I’m Misty. What should I call you Puerti?”

“Evangeline,” Constance replied, “Everyone gets Evangeline.”

“Oh? I am everyone?” Lips traced along Constance jaw, making her skin prick and head fall back. “Does everyone take care of this lonely puerti, or am I special?”

“Special tonight,” Constance gasped as those long, dark fingers pulled her hair to the side to expose Constance’s neck even more so Misty could nip and suck at her pleasure, sending shivers through her body. “Enough talk,” she growled, pulling Misty’s hands out of her hair and turned the dark woman so her back was against the black door, hands pinned above her head. “Rapture’s kicking in and I want to ascend with you, even though you’ve been high for a while.” She crashed her lips against her new found lover, tongue seeking solace amongst hers. She could feel Misty’s knee press against her core, making her moan obscenely.

The pounding was excruciating against Constance’s temples, and it even made her eyelids hurt when they squeezed tight before trying to open. The satin against her bare body stuck from the night’s events, and when she sat up, the room spun and the headache was pounding outside of her head. The screen next to the door showed a blue haze of a face, an angry face of a blond man.

“Constance!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Shut it Steve!” she called back, winching at volume she used. She got up, forgoing any cover to open the door for the man, who entered and closed the door tightly. “Don’t lecture me, especially here. And we agreed that I’m Evangeline when I am out.” She dropped back down on the bed, pulling for the black fur-like blanket over her and the sleeping Misty.

“Constance,” Steve grumbled, looking around and picked up the woman’s clothes and tossed them to her which earned him a growl.

“Rogers, I am not in the mood for this right now. I hate being ordered around after a high.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be getting high. Up. Dress. We’re leaving,” he ordered, pulling the blanket off of the women, causing Misty to wake up with wide eyes. It was a look Constance had gotten use to after Rapture had worn off in the afterglow of sex and dawn was approaching. “You, Misty Knight, you mention one word of tonight’s escapade to anyone, you will find yourself at Basque.”

“Steven!” Constance yelled, her head falling into her hands, growling in frustration. “Misty, I’m sorry. I had fun and enjoyed it a lot.” She reached for Misty’s arm, pulling her in to kiss her lover passionately, partly because she wanted to and partly to irritate Steve. “Maybe I’ll see you next week, okay babe?”

“No, you won’t,” Steve sighed, picking up the dress that Misty had worn, and handed it to the woman without a single glance. “Your father is at the hospital.”

“What did he drink himself into a fit again and mom called the guard?” Constance stood and stepped back into her red dress, shimmying it up quickly as she looked for her heels, groaning when she saw Steve dangling them out to her on his fingers and she snatched them with annoyance. “I don’t see why I have to go visit his sorry ass. He’s just hungover and hooked up to an IV bag.”

“Constance,” Steve started.

Constance ignored him, busying herself in picking up her pantyhose and stuffed them into her purse that Steve miraculously had along with her coat. “And he will be hitting on every young nurse or doctor that comes in, regardless if Mother is there or not.”

“Connie.”

The nickname had her rooted in mid-bend, fingers barely grasping her bra. Steve never called her Connie. Connie was when people broke news to her that was unsavory, especially if it will involve emotions. She wet her lips and slowly rose, handing the beige bra to him before approaching Misty, leaned down and kissed her slow and deliberately. “I’m sorry my beauty, but I think this might be our one and only time together. I fear that I won’t be returning anytime soon. Please take care.” She turned towards Steve and forced a neutral look as best as good. “Car?”

“Around back, Sharon and Helmut are already at Ryfaan court.”

“Mother?”

“Back at the Marrafyn.”

Constance nodded and bid Misty a good day before following Steve down the hall, red lights made the blue walls a sickly purple. She knew what was needed to be discussed and it was a private matter that none of the common folk needed to know. There were protocols in place for this, and sure, she broke rules, but never protocols as serious as this one. And this one involved her never to go back to The Hive again.

“Get down!” Bucky yelled, his body covering Earl Bonitome as shots rang out as bullets tore through the car they were next to. He elder gentleman tried to raise his head to see what was going on, but Bucky just pressed down onto him, forcing his head to the pavement. There was a break in shots, letting Bucky to look up slightly and catching the glint of suspects scope. It wasn’t hard for him to train his eye on the perpetrator, pull the trigger, and landing a shot right in the gunman’s shoulder before placing another shot to the opposite knee. He watched as the large man fall, screaming in agony before Bucky moved.

“Stay put,” he growled at Bonitome, getting up quickly and carefully advanced the howling man with his gun still drawn. He kicked the pistol to the side before he placed his foot on the leg wound, stepping down enough to make the man hiss loudly. Obscenities were thrown out making Bucky chuckle darkly as he waited for the sirens to grow closer, keeping the earl in his peripheral the whole time.

“Things could have went worse I’d say,” Bonitome smiled, handing a glass to Bucky. They were back at Bonitome’s mansion after the incident, mostly for Bucky to be paid, but also for Bonitome to self-medicate with scotch since his nerves were shot.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, taking the glass of amber liquid as his eyes roamed around the room, a habit of looking for weak points from years of being in the Army. Bonitome walked over to the mantle and grabbed the manilla envelope, holding it out to Bucky to take, maintaining his grip as the brunet did so.

“Come work for me full time, Barnes. Could use a man like you on my detail all the time,” the older gentleman gleamed.

“That’s kind of you,” Bucky replied, “but I don’t do long term jobs. Makes things complicated when you get...attached.”

“I respect that,” Bonitome smiled, letting go of the envelope and raised his glass, “I guess there are more people out there that have even more dangerous people after them. Don’t think I won’t call if something like this happens again.”

“I’ll remember that sir, but if I am already on an assignment the chances of that happen are null.” He clink his glass to the gentleman’s and took a small sip out of respect. All he looked forward to was to be home and out of the suit.

“I understand Barnes,” Bonitome smiled, “besides, you probably have a girl at home waiting for you. Afterall, you were away for almost two months.”

“Yeah, Claire probably did miss me. My landlord checked up on her occasionally, so I know she is good. Well, it’s been a pleasure, Mr. Bonitome. And no offense, I hope not to see you again.” He gave the older gentleman a smile and nodded, setting his empty glass down onto the bar before shaking his hand and took his leave.

The drive was long and Bucky desperately craved for his bed, or the lack of. After the war, he could only sleep on the floor, the carpet giving him just enough warmth and cushion that he didn’t mind. And he did miss Claire, but she was actually a cat that came and went when she pleased. Bucky left specific instructions for Maria, his landlord, while he was gone so Claire didn’t think he abandoned her completely: tuna every other day and a special smoothie he makes for the other days, and Maria was a saint with a soft spot for the shorthair and she made the smoothie herself.  The house was quiet and dark when he arrived, and of course when he entered he could smell the cleaning products that Maria used within the last three days. It wasn’t off putting as it had a weird sense of homecoming for him.

It was his first time cooking supper for himself since he took the Bonitome job, but he always had pasta and sauce lying in the cabinet, he just had to make sure that it was still good, which was actually rare considering jobs only last a few months or so. He sat with his bowl, window open to let Claire in if she happened by, and turned on the tv for the broadcast and the mundane game show he liked afterwards. Fork in one hand and throwing knife in the other, he ate quietly as he watched the news and flipped the knife. When the screen flashed a picture of the king, Bucky paused, brows knitting together.

“We regret to inform our listening area this morning that our beloved King Reginald, Ruler of Ryfa and Lyorfa, has passed to unforeseen circumstances early this morning. We do not know any details in his passing, just that our queen and princesses are at Marrafyn grieving their loss.”

Bucky hit the mute button as he read the scrolling bar on the bottom of the screen. The king had no known illnesses or had received any threats recently that caused any concern. There was speculation that he was poisoned or shot, but the Royal Service wouldn’t release that kind of information until much later, once the king was laid to rest on Kyfroma Hill and Princess Constance had her coronation. The lack of information had Bucky curious and he picked up his phone to dial his friend’s number.

“If you were calling me, I’m right here.”

The voice behind him startled him only slightly, but Bucky still turned and threw the knife at the intruder, missing only by a fraction and impaled itself into the wooden support beam.

“Losing your touch, Barnes,” the man chuckled, pulling the knife out before walking towards the brunet, extending the weapon for him to take back.

“You should know better than to sneak up on me Rogers,” Bucky grumbled, taking the knife back and went back to eating his noodles. “And the answer is no.”

“You don’t even know why I’m here.” Bucky pointed to the screen and looked up at the blond with tired look. “Okay, okay. I need help with Constance.”

“No, Steve. I don’t do the royal thing. That’s what the Service is for. To be pushed around by some stuffy rich people who we never had a choice in the matter of ruling us.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Buck.”

“Steve, no. Just...no. There isn’t anything you can say for me to even entertain the idea of taking on that detail. She’s a party girl and selfish. Hell, I don’t even know if the country wants her to be queen.”

“That’s the thing, Bucky,” Steve sighed, sitting on the couch gingerly, not waiting to be engulfed in a cloud of dust. “The king was murdered. No one knows yet, not even Queen Moira. We are trying to figure out how he was as there was no physical wounds we could find. So it has to be a chemical of some kind. That makes everyone in Ryfa and Lyorfa a suspect.”

“Even the little babies?” Bucky teased, “Really, Steve, you’ve been Constance’s guard since she was like twelve. Can’t you handle it yourself?”

“Fifteen and she’s becoming queen,” Steve replied almost sadly, “That’s not my duty. I will be transferred to Moira and the queen’s guard will be responsible for her. Moira trusted her guard, but she doesn’t want Constance to have one that is use to a queen sitting pretty and doing nothing.”

“So I will be her what then? Personal bodyguard? Yeah, I don’t think Princess Constance will love that. The guard follows ten, maybe fifteen feet away. I will be within two.”

“C’mon Buck. I need the peace of mind too. She’s like my sister.” Steve looked like he was scared for his charge. “She’s like my Rebecca.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair and nodded. “Fine. Fine! I’ll meet with Queen Moira to discuss what is exactly expected of me, but once you guys figure it out who has killed the king, I’m done. That’s my condition.”

“Done.”

#royal pain #ldmwc #star spangled bingo #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x ofc

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 2

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, some feels

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

Lol, two parts. Who the fuck do I think I am? In all fairness, I feel like @littledarlinhavefaithinme knows my work well enough to know that I’m a wordy bitch. 

Hope y’all enjoy!

Tags are open!

You give yourself one more look in the mirror. The black strappy Dior high-low dress is just the right balance of sexy and classy. The gold Louboutins bring the perfect level of sparkle. And your red lips pick up the sole of the heels creating a flawless balance.

It’s not vanity that says you look like a knockout. It’s an indisputable fact. You just wish you were in a state of mind to appreciate it.

Your phone dings alerting you that your driver is waiting. Sighing you plaster your signature carefree smirk on your lips, grab your coat, clutch, and steel your nerves.

As the car pulls up he’s already at the corner waiting. You’re not the least bit surprised that he showed or that he’s early. Captain America didn’t seem the fashionably late type.

Before getting out you eye him through the tinted window of the Town Car. Despite the late autumn chill in the air, he’s not wearing a coat. Those cool blue eyes scan the area taking in everything. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and… he actually seems like he may be just a smidge nervous. That brings a real smile to your face. How endearing.

Knowing it won’t take him long to spot you, you thank your driver and step out. Immediately he locks on to you. Before meeting him it had been a long time since someone had genuinely managed to surprise you. Once again Steve Rogers does so when a breathtaking smile fills his face upon seeing you.  

“What do ya know,” you quip as you strut up to him, your heels making you just about eye level, “the man does own a suit, tie and all.” Playfully you tug on the dark navy fabric.

Steve scoffs, “You said suit so I assumed the whole ensemble would be expected.”

“Is this Prada?” You eye the perfectly cut lines, mouth watering just a touch. He was a damn fine specimen. “Impressive.”

“Being friends with a Stark does have its benefits.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” You hold your arm out to him, “Shall we?”

With a crooked smile on his face, he hooks his arm with yours, “Lead the way.”

The restaurant, one of DC’s hottest tickets at the moment, was only about half a block away. As the two of you make your way there heads turn. It’s not just because Captain America is out on a Saturday night either, together you cut an incredible image. Though keeping yourself hidden is usually a part of your M.O. you can’t help but feel a little pride.

There’s no sign above the place, either you knew it was here or you didn’t. As you walk up the door swings open revealing an open, modern, elegant setting.

Steve whispers into your ear, “This is one of those places where you leave hungry at the end isn’t it?”

“I’m almost offended.” One of the hosts takes your coat revealing the thin straps of your dress, your exposed chest, cleavage. Honestly, the thing was almost as criminal as you were.

“Careful there Steven, that’s a great way to catch a fly.” His slightly slack jaw snaps shut, blue eyes narrowing. You wink before turning to follow the hostess leading you to your table.

“It’s Steve,” he grumbles a bit, sounding like an angry boy and not a grown man in a five thousand dollar suit.

A genuine laugh tumbles from your crimson lips as you lazily sit in the proffered chair, legs crossing, the high front of the hem falling just between your thigh highs and holster. His Adam’s apple bobs hard in his throat as he takes his place across from you.

“What can I get you both to drink this evening?” The waiter asks, trying not to gawk, not that you could blame him, you’re sure it’s not every day he has Captain America at his table.

You respond before Steve can even look a the menu, “We’ll take a bottle of Merlot, pick whatever puts the most money in your pocket and,” you pluck a $100 from your clutch, “for your discretion.” He takes it and stares at you for a second. You give him a small wink too, “Thank you.”

“Thank YOU.” With that, he scurries off for the wine.

“Always so generous?” Steve takes a sip of water eyeing you.

“With service employees? Yes.” He raises his brows. “What? Can’t I be a benevolent criminal?”

“Is there such a thing?”

You shrug, “In my experience there is. Some of the most generous people I know make their money in nefarious ways.”

The waiter arrives with your wine. “Thanks,” Steve gives him a smile. As he does a server walks past with a skewer laden with red meat. “What kind of restaurant is this exactly?”

“It’s Brazilian steakhouse inspired.” Those words clearly meant nothing to him. “Basically they walk around and serve you meat until you beg them to stop.”

“Alright,” he nods, “I can get behind that.”

“Figured.” You sip the wine, its excellent. “I may have expensive taste but I grew up far too poor to blow money on four bites of food no matter how delicious.”

He laughs, “Tony took me someplace in New York… Everything was ‘deconstructed,’” he air quotes the word. “I honestly thought it was a joke. I had to stop for a slice after.”

“Yeah. Sounds like some rich kid shit.”

Taking a drink he nods in agreement. “So… not a rich kid.”

“Nope. Purebred third generation trailer trash.”

“From where?” You raise a brow over your glass. “Oh come on. You can read all about me online. I don’t even know your real name. Throw me a bone.”

“Fair.” You sigh, “Oklahoma.”

“Really?!”

“Yup. The land of corn, tornadoes, and disappointment.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you grimace and he laughs. “How’s life in DC?”

“Fine, I guess… You’ve probably seen more of it than I have.”

“It’s sad that I think you’re right.” He shrugs. “You could see it ya know?”

“You sound like Romanoff.”

“She sounds like good people.”

“You would probably think that. You’re likely cut from the same cloth.”

The servers come by and you both load up on incredible grilled meat and vegetables. He looks more than a little pleased. Your small talk continues on. It is actually pleasant and you just can’t bring yourself to drop your bomb just yet. Instead, you push it to the back of your mind.

After a bit, you decide to ask, “Any other prying questions for me?”

He looks shocked, “Plenty. But will you answer them?”

“Ask and find out,” your lips curl mischievously.

He slowly chews, a pensive expression on his face. “Alright…” Those blue eyes pierce you as he sips his wine. You feel… seen. It’s not uncomfortable but certainly not something you’re used to. “How do you go from, as you said, trailer trash, to this?” He gestures to you.

You think for a minute. “Determination.”

“That all I get?”

Maybe it’s his melancholy. Maybe is the way he looks in that suit. Regardless of the reason you decide... Fuck it.

“Well… I come from a place where you either get pregnant, get a scholarship, or get dog tags.” You take a sip of wine. “Never been very maternal, wasn’t good enough at anything for a scholarship, so I took door number three. One thing led to another and here we are.”

“YOU were a soldier?!”

“You do know the road from soldier to soldier of fortune is pretty short right?”

“I just… wouldn’t have guessed.”

An almost sad smile flickers across your face before you school your expression. “I will have you know I was a damn good soldier. One of the few women in combat infantry. Would have been special forces if the sexist fucks let me in.”

Steve nods in approval. “What rank?”

“Sargeant.”

Something flashes across his face at that but he says nothing. “How many tours?”

“Three.” His brows rise at this. “What? Said I was good at what I did. Thought that was going to be it for me.”

“What happened?”

You flag the waiter for another bottle of wine before answering. “They said don’t ask don’t tell.” You take a big gulp of wine, “Someone asked. I told.”

He takes a minute to sort that out before he realizes what you’re referring to. It’s just long enough for you to remember that old bitter feeling. “So you’re…”

“I’m all sorts of things, Cap.” You offer him a halfhearted grin. “At the time I happened to be with a woman. Thought she was gonna be it too. Turned out she was in it for the financial stability and good pussy-” he chokes a bit on his wine at that and you burst out laughing. “Anyway, when one of the two was gone so was she.”

“I’m sorry,” he lays his hand between you both.

Playfully you push it off the edge of the table, “Ancient history. Nothing to get mopey over.”

“Yeah. Well, good soldiers shouldn’t be treated as disposable.” Or good pussy, you almost fire back but you think you’ve shocked the old man enough.

“We were disposable.” He looks away from you at that. “Get rid of me there’s more desperate kids signing up every day.”

“Well… I guess that’s true. I was one of those desperate kids at one point too…”

“What were you desperate to get out of?”

He stares off into the distance for a long moment. “I was desperate to get in actually. It… seemed like the right thing to do… Whole world at war and whatnot. But… it was a different time.” Your eyes narrow as he shoves food in his mouth to avoid talking. After a bit he breaks, “What?”

“You’re right, I read all about you online. I’ve seen the before shots, read your biographies… Half of it, most of that golden boy rhetoric, is crap I have no doubt. Now you’re trying to tell me you only wanted to join the army just because it was the right thing… I call bullshit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You take a bite studying him. “You’re a fighter. You like the fight. I bet you always have, even when you were getting your ass kicked.”

“How would you know?”

You hold his gaze, “Because I’m the same.” Sighing you take a long drink. “All that wartime machismo and patriotism… you wanted to measure up. Maybe there was a righteous element to it but… yeah, I don’t buy that pure American hero serving his country shit.”

He looks like you slapped him before a smile spreads across his face, it’s a little sad but genuine. “Are your grandparents from Brooklyn by chance?”

You laugh, “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “You’re not wrong. I, uh… I did have something to prove.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Prove it?” So many emotions flicker across his face, you almost feel bad for asking.

“I don’t know honestly. All the people who could answer that are dead…” It takes him a moment to continue, “But… Hydra fell… we won… so I guess there’s that.”

Your stomach tightens and you set your fork down. “Well, this has turned distinctly depressing.” You wave down your waiter, “You still hungry?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”

“Good.” You fish some money from your bag and put it in the dazed waiter’s hand. It was unquestionably more than your tab. He looks like he’s going to protest but you shut him up with a look. In your line of work you never knew if you’d see the next day and you couldn’t take it with you so why not give it away.

You stand, “Come on.”

At the door they go to fetch your coat, “Actually,” you pause them, “could I pick that up tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks.” The air outside is brisk but it’s kind of refreshing.

“Where exactly are we going?” Steve asks as he falls in line behind you. “Do you want my jacket?”

How cute, you smile at him, “I’m good. And we are going to have some fun.”

“Were we not before?” His grin is mischievous.

“Look I know you have a low bar for entertainment. Dinner is nice but it’s not fun.”

After a few blocks, you turn to him, “Do you like dancing?”

“Uh…” Suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Not… really…”

“Too bad.” You tug him down an alley, the base notes already hitting your ears.

Just outside the club, he stops, “I really don’t think this is my kind of fun.” Lights flash into the dark alley lighting up the line of people waiting to get in.

“Have you ever been to a club?” You stand your ground, keeping him in place.

“Well… no…”

You lay a hand on his… incredibly solid chest, “Have I led you astray in your assimilation so far?” He rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

“Fine. But I’m not dancing.”

“Sure,” you quip over your shoulder as you pull him to the door.

“Isn’t there a line?” He says in your ear.

“I have the universal VIP pass,” pulling a couple bills from your clutch and passing them to the bouncer who happily lets you in.

The music is so loud vibrating through your whole body. When you glance at Steve the grimace on his face makes a laugh soundlessly burst from you. He glances down and shakes his head, not understanding how this is fun. You pull him toward the dancefloor but he refuses, heading against the wall on the edge of the sea of bodies.

Conceding you hold your hands up and begin moving with the music, hips swaying, arms lifting. It takes moments before someone joins you, his hands sliding over your sides moving just barely. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t him you were interested in.

Steve watches you, occasionally looking at other dancers, the very image of out of place in his suit, arms crossed back leaned against the wall. Maybe this really wasn’t for him… He wasn’t insisting to leave though so you let yourself just feel the music.

After a few songs a woman on one of the raised platforms gets your attention, insisting you come up. It’s not far from Steve’s parking spot so you go with it. The bass starts hard and your bodies press close. You spin her in your arms, her head falls back onto your shoulder as she grinds against you in time with the music. Two men watch close to the platform and she beckons them up.

As you move with one of the men you notice Steve’s stepped away from the wall just a bit, his eyes on you. You hold his gaze. Slowly he makes his way toward your perch. You drop low, ignoring the whoop from your near forgotten dance partner at the move, his hands greedily grasping for you as you raise up. But Steve is at the edge of the platform.

His head is about at your pelvis as you stand before him, body still reacting to the music. You rest your hand on his head, fingers gripping his hair, gently tilting his head back as you swing your hips wide holding onto those blue eyes, flashing with the colors of the lights. His tongue flits out for just a second, moistening his pink lips. Once more you drop with the beat. Your free hand catches his tie as you rise.

Steve’s hands reach up, grabbing you just below your hip bones. As if you weigh nothing he lifts you off the platform setting you in front of him. There’s a self-satisfied look on his face, no doubt over your surprised expression that quickly morphs into a greedy grin.

You run your hands up his torso and over his chest. Slipping a finger under the knot of his tie you tug it lose until it hangs undone. Swaying to the music you undo a few of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, barely grazing the golden chest hair that peeks out. He slides the suit jacket off, tossing it over the crowd, obviously not caring that it’s easily worth two grand. You’d buy him another.

Resting your hands on his hips you coax him to move with the music. Again, he’s full of surprises, getting the hang of it quickly. You turn and press close to him, his hands gliding over you before holding at your swaying hips. Reaching back you hook a hand around his neck, head falling onto his shoulder. There’s nothing but the two of you and the music despite the press of the people around you. His breath on your neck making your heart stutter in your chest.

After two songs you’re about ready to have him right in the middle of this crowded dance floor if he’d let you. As much as you wish that could be the case you know better… you need to get yourself together.

Turning to face him you press your lips close to his ear. His hands run down your back, pulling you tight against him. It takes everything in you to say, “I’m going to the restroom. Be back,” rather than asking if he’d like to fuck you in the restroom. He nods and releases you. Unsurprisingly, he follows, leaning against the wall next to the narrow hall leading to the bathrooms.

You wet a paper towel with cold water, pressing it to your flushing chest and racing pulse. Staring at yourself in the mirror you silently coach yourself to get your head out of your ass. The two of you need to go someplace so you can tell him-

You’re so distracted you don’t notice the person behind you. Until your face slams into your reflection. The assailant lands a blow to the middle of your spine. You cry out, pain blossoming. Whirling you grab their wrist before the knife can plunge into you.

“Bitch you ruin this dress I’ll gut you.” The knife clatters to the floor, your hand twisting the wrist back with a jerk. They swing, fist meeting your jaw. Stumbling they throw you through the swinging door back first. The wall catches you. Reaching under your skirt you pull one of your pistols free and let loose a shot. It misses, barely, despite you hardly aiming. The shock has its desired effect and they’re distracted.  

Screams react to the sound of the shot and you bolt for the exit at the end of the hall. You sprint into the alley for an instant before something sharp and burning buries itself in your upper thigh causing you to drop to your knees. In an instant they’re on you, arm choking you. Without luck, you try to fling them off but they’ve got weight on you and you can’t get purchase.

Your head is beginning to float from lack of oxygen when they’re pulled off you. Falling onto your hands you gasp for air, coughing. Before you can turn they’re thrown down the alley, slamming hard into the dumpster. Seemingly unconscious they slump to the ground.

“Zelda!” Steve kneels before you gripping your shoulders. “Are you ok?!”

You cock an eyebrow, about to make a snarky comment when you see the guy rise to his feet, gun drawn, aimed at Steve. Reflexively you grab the pistol on your other thigh and shoot, aim perfect, the bullet nestled between the man’s brows.

Steve jerks up and stares, noticing the gun as it falls from the man’s grip. His eyes turn back to you, filled with questions. “Better now.” You offer a crooked smile and rise to your feet groaning.

He steadies you as you reach to your leg and pull out the blade. “Fuck,” you hiss between your teeth tossing it to the side. A few civilians are at the mouth of the alley, gawking at the scene. Great.

“I’ve gotta call this in,” he reaches for his phone.

“Of course you do,” you grumble, slipping out of your heels before the right one fills with blood.

-

As you support yourself against the wall, taking the weight off your injured leg, Steve dials Romanoff. He lays out the situation, she assures him it can be dealt with.

“Not the first time an agent’s had a bar fight go bad, Rogers,” she laughs.

“That’s not the situation. We also need a medic, someone has-” he turns to look at you and… of fucking course you’re gone. “Never mind. They’re fine.”

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4@piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers angst #LDMWC

[unfallen-angel]

Curious Creatures PT 3. Venom/Eddie Brock X Fem!Reader

This is the third installment of Curious Creatures! All Feedback is appreciated! 

This is also for Little Darlin’s Marvelous Writing Challenge! Sorry It’s late, but life is cruel sometimes. @littledarlinhavefaithinme

WARNINGS: Some language, but nothing else! I didn’t proofread this so sorry for the mistakes!

"No! Listen... No... Come on. Just let me explain... I just want to know..." You drum your fingers across the wooden surface of your kitchen table. "Fine. Thank you for your... Hello?" With a heavy sigh, you drop your phone onto the table and run both your hands through your hair. "Dick."

You had called three police stations, four of the local papers, and six of the local news stations. All you wanted was to prove that you didn't need to check yourself into a nut house because you kept finding this giant, black monster wherever you went. You couldn't seem to make it past the front desk no matter where you called. No one wanted any part of your 'publicity stunt'. 

It had been 2 weeks since your night on the beach with Venom, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell your roommate about him because you were starting to think that maybe it was all in your head and you had just suffered a mental breakdown that night in the park after you left the bar. 'I'm going out. Don't wait up!' You sent the text to your roommate and on a light hoodie. "I'll just retrace my steps and start at the beginning," you mutter as the door closes loudly behind you.

The sun was just starting to set over the city as you made your way toward the dive bar that you were hustling in the night you met the giant monster. It wasn't too busy inside for a Thursday night, but there were people playing pool and a few men leaning on the bar for balance, obviously too drunk to walk three steps alone. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room and land on a jacket that seemed to tickle your memory. It was the same man that was here the night you were here. 

The reporter. You couldn't remember his name.

"This seat taken?" You ask lightly and drop into the bar stool beside him. He looked over at you with a sly smile, but it quickly faded. Several things crossed his face from recognition, to shock, to panic, to frustration. "I can sit somewhere else," you offer, confused.

"No!" he says forcefully and then chuckles quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "No. It's not taken."

"Okay," you laugh and order a beer. The bartender nods and tosses a dingy, white dishrag over his shoulder as he pops a top and slides the bottle your way. You catch it easily. "I'm y/n." you look up at him and really get a good look at him. Dark scruff, messy dark blond hair, hooded blue eyes, and a crooked smile. Your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm Eddie," he says and shakes your outstretched hand. You smile and take another sip of your beer. "Do I know you?" He asks suddenly.

"I was here a few weeks ago. I, uh, left in a hurry," you explain vaguely. He nods slowly and smirks, remembering. "So you're Eddie Brock the reporter?" He nods cautiously but doesn't answer. "Can I ask you something? I've been trying to do some research for a project," you lie smoothly and tuck your hair behind your ears.

"I guess it depends on what you ask. I may have an answer," he responds smoothly and then he turns his head and mutters something under his breath.

"I'm looking into vigilante groups in the city. Do you have any leads on where I should look. Especially f they don't appear to be human?" You ask pointedly and lean forward, catching his eye before he can look away.

His jaw tightens and he stands suddenly. "You should pick a different project," he says through clenched teeth and turns to leave, but not before placing a twenty on the bar. "Drinks on me."

"No wait!" you try to grab his arm, but he's already out the door. "Thanks," you mutter and sit back down, drinking the last of your bottle. Another dead end. "Ah hell," you mutter and dart out the door, following the handsome reporter. "Eddie?" you call his name, scanning the dark streets.

"Shut it, VEE! It's out of the question!" His voice floated up to you from one of the back alleys.

"But it's Y/N," he protested and you recognized the hiss of a voice. It was Venom. Eddie Brock knew Venom, you were sure of it.

"I don't care! It's dangerous. You shouldn't see her anymore. Leave her alone. I mean it." Eddie's voice was stern, almost like he was scolding a toddler.

"Eddie..." Venom hisses, holding the 'e'.

"No. I said No!" He says again. 

You peer around the brick wall and see Eddie standing half in the shadow of a streetlight. Venom's large white eyes shine in the darkness. "Maybe he should decide for himself," you say loudly and step into the light, trying to see them better.

"Y/N!" Venom smiles, showing rows and rows of shark like teeth.

"Let me do the talking for a minute. This will be tricky," Eddie says as he leans close to Venom. The creature nods and disappears into the shadows before Eddie steps forward. "You found me," he surmises lamely. "Listen. I can explain."

"I wish you would," you snap at him and fold your arms across your chest. "It's, ah, it's complicated," he begins and rubs his hand behind his neck again. A nervous tick, you notice, amused. "Venom and I... We... Uh..." He stops, trying to come up with the right words.

"You're friends? You're partners in crime? You're secretly seeing each other?" You smirk and tick the reasons off on your fingers. "Am I getting close?"

"No." He laughs nervously. "It's a bit more than that."

"Just tell her already!" Venom's face emerges from the shadows and seems to hover over Eddie's right shoulder. "We are Venom," he says simply. "Eddie is my host."

"Fucking Parasite," Eddie growls and glares at Venom's head.

"Take it back!" Venom mutters indignantly.

"Um..." You are at a loss for words as you slowly realize that Venom isn't standing behind Eddie, but that his head is coming out of Eddie's back in a thick stream of black goo. "I think I just... I don't..." You slowly walk backwards until your back hits the cold brick wall. "What..." No words. You had no words for what your eyes were seeing. It was like your brain just wouldn't process the information.

"Just breath. Take a minute." He looks at the face beside him. "Maybe you should just... Go away for a minute. Give her some space."

"But it's y/n. She's seen us before," he protests.

Not like this!" Eddie puts his hand over his face and exhales loudly. "There are at least 17 different ways this could have gone better," he mutters and you aren't sure if he's talking to Venom or himself. It's really the same thing if you think about it. "Literally. Like I'm counting them right now, you moron." Venom licks his lips and disappears without another word.

"Eddie?" you whisper once the two of you are alone again. "I think you need to buy me another drink. Something stronger," you suggest quietly.

He gives you a faint smile and nods, holding his hand out to you. "That seems fair."

THANKS FOR READING! Requests are open!

Here’s my MASTERLIST

PART 1

PART 2

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x oc #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x fem reader #venom #We are Venom #Venom Symbiote #venom oc #venom x reader #venom x you #venom x fem reader #ldmwc #curious creatures

[ruckystarnes]

Characters: OFC-Constance Wallace, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sharon “Carter” Zemo, Helmut Zemo, OFC-Moira Wallace, Tony Stark

Words: 2,771

Pairing: OFC-Constance Wallace x Tony Stark

Warnings: drug use, swearing, mild violence, brief mention of arousal

Royal Pain Masterlist

Playlist

Constance sat on the burgundy crushed velvet couch, her back pressed against the hard backing, her eyes focused ahead, staring blankly at her sister, Sharon sitting next to her husband, Helmut Zemo, crowned prince and heir of Sokovia. Sharon was the one that would settle down first, her and Helmut been in love since she was five. Despite being ten years apart, their father encouraged the relationship when Sharon was fifteen, setting the who up on a date even though their mother protested. Constance smiled at the thought, the words her mother called Helmut: egotistical, tactless, spineless, and Constance’s favorite, lily-livered. Of course, Sharon didn’t know any of this as she saw Helmut to be a strong man who was charismatic and loving.

If only she knew he had seven mistresses, Constance thought bitterly. She will always care and love her little sister, but it didn’t mean she had to even like her brother-in-law in any degree.

That smug bastard was sitting there, arm around Sharon, consoling the weeping twenty-four year old, hand on her bulging stomach. The words “stress is not good for the baby” could be heard, a jab at Constance for sure. That man always had eyes for her, but Constance rebuffed his feelings because she knew how much her sister crushed on him, and her sister’s feelings use to trump hers. Since, Helmut made it his life’s purpose to make Constance feel insignificant at every turn, which most never even pierced her skin, but the baby thing, for some reason, did.

“Momma, please say you are doing an autopsy on him,” Sharon pleased through a series of sniffs and sobs, her eyes focused on Moira to Constance’s left, who’s hand was tightly clenching a baby blue handkerchief.

“Carter, you know our laws,” Moira replied softly, looking over at her eldest with pleading eyes. “No autopsy on any royal member without the ruler’s consent.”

How could Constance have forgotten that? Oh, because most noblepersons die of old age or something that was already confirmed to cause death while they were living. She felt sick of the idea of having to call the shot on it.

“She’s not queen until she is crowned,” Sharon replied, the tone was almost seething. “You’re still queen, why can’t you order it.”

“Carter, you know the law,” Moira replied, more forceful this time. “I am not of Wallace blood, therefore I cannot overtake the duties that your father had. It is Constance to make, and right now, she is grieving just like you, but she has more on her plate right now.”

“Daddy’s death isn’t the top priority?” Sharon screamed, standing up abruptly causing Helmut to blink at her slowly, trying to process what had happen. “Order the autopsy, Connie. Or don’t you love Daddy to know what happened?!” She was borderline hysteric, and it had to be because of the hormones.

“Sharon Carter Wallace,” Moira forced out, standing in front of her daughter, “we are all upset, and I think it would be best if you and Renard retire to your room for now. I will send in Diane with some tea to soothe your nerves.” The queen didn’t move nor dropped her steely gaze until Sharon accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to get her way. Constance watched Helmut put his arm around his wife and turned her to leave, whispering something in her ear that Constance couldn’t make out. Only once they were out of the sitting room did Moira settle back on the seat next to her other daughter with a sigh.

“Momma, I can order it,” Constance replied softly, her hand covering her mother’s and gave it a squeeze.

“No,” Moira smiled, turning towards her daughter, “that is not something you need to worry with yourself right now. I know how your father died, so does the physician. We have seen this coming for weeks now, we just never told you girls.”

“Momma?”

Before Moira could reply, the sitting room door was opened and Bernerd, the king and queen’s butler, entered.

“Ma’am, your highness,” he nodded, the first title threw Constance, but then she realized that her mother was no longer the crowned ruler. “Mr. Rogers has returned and he has a guest.”

“Show them in Bernerd,” Moira smiled, looking over at Jenessa, her handmaiden practically, and waved for her to get the tea.

“Momma, what do you mean you knew what was wrong with Daddy?” Constance asked, her voice low, but only was waved off by her mother as she sat poised for Constance’s guard to enter with his guest.

Steve brought a guest? Steve doesn’t have friends, none that he has ever spoken of.

“Ma’am.” Steve’s voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up to see the muscular blond, reddish brown stubble dotted his face and his eyes looked...tired. He must have not have slept since he picked her up at The Hive. Oh, how she longed to be there instead, high on Rapture and not giving a fuck with what is going on.

“Steven,” Moira smiled, her eyes brightening for the first time. She was about to get up but Steven shook his head with a soft smile and walked towards them, taking her mother’s hand, kissing her knuckles as he knelt.  “Steven, no need for formalities.”

Did her mother just giggle?

“There is, Ma’am,” Steve pushed up and moved to Constance, taking her hand just like her mother’s, and kissed her knuckles when his knee hit the floor. “We are trying to keep the rumors suppressed, but we do need to have something to give the media to satisfy your people and to ease their minds.

“What they are expecting is the truth,” Moira replied sadly, earning a nod from Steve, “is this why your guest is here?” Constance shifted her eyes over to the door, seeing a man dressed in a charcoal suit with dark hair that was pulled back and eyes that were bright blue that it wasn’t hard for Constance to identify from the distance. He was handsome in a rugged way, sort of reminded her of some of the guys she would hook up with at the Hive.

Wait, have I met him before?

He was familiar looking, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she had seen him before. God, she hoped it wasn’t a the Hive.

“James Buchanan Barnes, Ma’am,” Steve smiled, turning to hold his hand out to motion for the gentleman to approach. As he got closer, his face became even more clear, and she finally realized why he was so familiar.

“Holy shit,” Constance breathed, not realizing she had said her thought out loud and earned a glare from her mother.

“Mr. Barnes,” Moira nodded, her hand was in his, his knee to the floor as pressing his lips to knuckles.

“Ma’am,” he replied, voice gruff and almost like sandpaper to Constance’s ears.

“I understand that Steven had filled you in with what your duties are?”

Duties? What duties? Her mother had her own security detail and Steve was her own, and it was common knowledge that she would inherit her father’s.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Barnes replied,  his blue eyes settled on Constance, making her feel uncomfortable. Why does everyone know what is going on besides her?

Moira finally turned her attention to Constance, which Steve took a silent permission to sit on the couch that Sharon and Renard previously occupied, and Barnes joined him. “Connie, there are a few things we need to discuss.” Her mother’s voice was low, soft, like the time she used when Constance’s dog, Kipper, died.

“Okay,” Constance replied slowly, her eyes shifting over to the two men on the other couch. It was then that she noticed that they were completely alone. “Are you going to tell me what happened to Daddy?”

Moira gave a sigh and curt nod but she didn’t answer. Steve did.

“He was poisoned, Connie,” he said softly, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “It as confirmed almost two weeks ago when his symptoms begun. The doctors’ were able to diagnose the poison that was administered: belladonna.”

“Daddy took that for his stomach issues,” Constance interrupted, not seeing how his medicine could have killed him.

“Yes, in the right doses,” Moira replied, settling her hand on her daughter’s knee.

“The first time he had a seizure, we just assumed that the dosage was miscalculated, but it started to happen more frequently, the seizures happening several times during the day,” Steve added, “and then he developed rashes and his breathing was labored. We took every precaution we could, even stopping the medication.”

“So, how did he die from it when he wasn’t taking it?”

Steve looked at Moira who hung her head as if it was shameful. “Your father loved his berry tea,” she whispered.

“So, you’re saying Daddy was assassinated,” Constance stated, anger in every word she spoke, “and you are just telling me this now? Why aren’t you telling Sharon this?”

“Because we don’t know who done this,” Steve said evenly.

“You think…” She busted out laughing, standing to shake her head and to back away from the group. “You’re fucking nuts.”

“Constance,” Moira warned.

“No mother, you cannot sit there and tell me that someone murdered my father and suspect that Sharon had anything to do with it.”

“Not Sharon,” Barnes spoke up, earning a glare from Constance.

“You...I don’t know you, so you don’t get a say. I know who you are and everything you do is just lies and ends in death.”

“Constance Reese.” There was that tone. The tone her mother used for discipline. The tone still made Constance flinch after all these years. She settled in the dark gray highback, crossing her leg and arms, but she remained quiet. “Your father has been receiving threats to abdicate his family’s title to the next.”

“Who’s…”

“Zemo,” Barnes replied, “your sister’s in-laws.”

“I don’t know you,” she replied evenly, “therefore I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true, Constance,” Steve replied in defense, “several letters the last year state the same thing. ‘Abdicate or else’ sort of meanings. But now that your father is gone, you are the heir to the throne. We suspect that this person…”

“Or persons,” Barnes interjected, making Steve nod.

“Might try to come after you so they can get what they want. Helmut Zemo on the throne of Ryfa and Lyorfa.”

I think I’m going to be sick, Constance thought.

“And according to law, you receive your father’s detail, but I am uneasy giving you to them,” Steve went on, “so that is why James is here.”

“To babysit me?”

“To take care of you. He’ll take my place essentially, since I have orders to cover your mother now.”

“I can take care of myself,” Constance grumbled, her eyes narrowed on the other man.

“That’s why you are at The Hive every week? Needing Steve to pull you out?” Barnes replied.

“How. Dare. You.” Constance stood and held a hand up to her mother. “I’m leaving.” Barnes rose with her, buttoning his jacket as he bowed to Moira. “Where do you think you going?”

“My orders are to be your close detail,” Barnes replied, a slight smirk dancing on his lips.

“You have no choice in the matter Connie,” Moira added, the mother tone making the matter closed. Constance growled and threw her hands up, storming out of the room, Barnes on her heels.

“Good luck, man,” Steve called back, and Constance could hear the delight in his voice.

The music was blaring, vibrating Constance’s bones and making her head buzz. She knew she shouldn’t be at the Hive, but everything was spiraling out of control for her. She wasn’t ready to be queen, she wasn’t supposed to ascend until she was at least forty. The need to have a place where no one cared who she was or what she did was a solace, like her dad’s need to drink rye at nine fifty-five every night. She didn’t care if James Barnes followed her to the club, didn’t care if he tried to remove her. She couldn’t believe her mother and Steve would trust him with her, after that man had done some despicable things while in the armed forces.

A hand rested on her hip as lips connected with the skin behind her ear, causing her to stiffen.

“Easy, Evangeline,” a deep voice rumbled against her chest and she instantly softened as she recognized it to be Anthony Stark. “You seem to be here to forget tonight.”

She spun to face him, pressing her body into his, as her hand went up to cup his face. “I always come here to forget, Tony,” she smiled sweetly. He held up his hand, a white pill between his forefinger and thumb, his brow cocking for the question. With no hesitation, Constance opened her mouth and he placed the small tab on her tongue before his lips found the spot on her neck that made her weak. They were in the sea of dancing people, a sweaty mix of high and horny surrounded them, and it brought her comfort knowing it will take James Barnes a long while before he found her. She could feel Anthony’s hands move lower on her hips, curving around to cup her ass to press her closer to him, making her feel his next question. Of course she wasn’t going to turn down the man. She nodded and he took her hand, leading her down the blue hallway and behind a black door. Anthony produced a small purple cloth from his pocket and smiled at her, which made her laugh. Ninth Cloud.

“What’s so funny, Vangie?” Anthony smirked, setting the cloth down on the glass table, sitting on the floor and started to open it.

“Ninth Cloud,” Constance smiled, “been forever.”

A smirk was her answer as she sat opposite of him, holding her hand out to him waiting for the object he held in his hand: a long white piece of paper. She busied herself rolling it up, her eyes watching as he pulled the purple stopper off of the glass tube of a lavender dust. Ninth Cloud, named after exactly what it does. Anthony made neat lines of iridescent happiness, holding his hand out for her to take the first hit. Constance leaned forward, putting the paper tube she made to her nose and to the first line. She passed the tube to him after she finished, sniffing the remaining powder that lingered, and when he was finished she pulled him in for a heated kiss, taking the tube from him.

The hit was enough to make her high enough for the night, especially with Rapture, but she wanted to forget. The next hit was more exhilarating for both of them, and she soon found herself in Anthony’s lap, her mouth hungry against his and he slipped a hand between her thighs, groaning to find her equally excited. Fingers busied with the buttons of his red button down, the need to have another drug coursing through her veins. Just as he was about to draw the zipper down of her dress, she was pulled away abruptly and was on her feet before she could even register what was happening.

“What the fuck man!” Anthony yelled, standing up, his shirt long forgotten.

Constance struggled to figure out what was going on, the high taking complete hold of her.  Something happened, a tussle or a fight. Something. Her head was spinning and everything was vivid but blurred. A hand was on her arm again, pulling her out of the room and she had a glimpse of Anthony kneeling with his hand to his face, dark liquid covering his hand. Her eyes roamed up to where the hand belonged, and stopped walking when she saw his face. He didn’t seem to care that she had stopped, kept pulling her with him.

“Let me go, you monster,” she seethed, her hand moving to try to loosen his grip. It only made his fingers tighten. She then resorted to hitting his hand, cursing him more and threatening to call out rape.

“Does that even apply here?”

She was stunned, not saying another word or aimed to hit again. Before she knew it, they were in the alley, a black SUV waiting for them. She couldn’t see who the driver was as James Barnes shoved her into the backseat, and instructed the driver to an address she didn’t know. She could hear him talking but the high was almost at its peak, and she was soon soaring.

#star spangled bingo #mcukinkbingo #LDMWC #em's writing challenge #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x ofc

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 1

 Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things... You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, sort of gory death (non-major character)

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge! 

This is only gonna be two parts (I swear) but I wanted to break it up because it kinda needs it and I didn’t post OFAM this week (because I was writing essentially the end of Truth please hold me).

I’m so happy this lovely human asked me to write for their challenge though! It’s my first! The prompt will be bolded and is in the next part.

Hope y’all enjoy! 

Tags are open!

Steve rips the com from his ear as it screams with interference. It’s useless now, more a distraction than anything else. Slowly he stalks around the outside of the warehouse, all his enhanced senses on high alert.

Their intel had been bad. There was only supposed to be a handful of guards here covering Popov. Instead, it felt like a whole fucking garrison. When he gets out of this he’s going to have Natasha’s ass-

A shadow flits across his path. For a second he thinks it is Natasha… That makes no sense, Nat isn’t on this mission. 

Maybe she came in because they were swamped? No, she wouldn’t have time. Doesn���t matter. He’s sprinting in the direction the person was heading.

Could be a trap. Vaguely he wishes he gave a damn.

He pauses outside the door of one of the two-story storage buildings. Sounds of a struggle inside are fading. Quietly he slips in. There’s a dim trail in the dust on the floor, a few drops of blood all leading to a staircase in the back.

As he peers into the half dark of the roof he sees a red-headed woman, clad in all black, about to kill their target. God fucking damn it.

“Natasha!” He bellows tackling her away from Popov.

They roll on the rooftop. Her head slams back into his nose, his grip loosens just enough for her to slip out. Popov is limping away and she’s heading straight for him. He slides his shield quick and low, not wanting to hurt Nat but wanting to make her lose her footing. It works and she falls, chin cracking against the ground.

Before she can stand he’s on her. “What the hell are you doing, Romanoff?!”

He turns the struggling figure over. The face that stares back at him isn’t Natasha. It is pretty though and filled with a sly grin. 

Your knee lands firmly in his groin and he grunts. You try to slip him once more. But he barely manages to keep a grip on you.

Your legs twist around him as you try to get to his back for a choke hold. Standing he digs his fingers into your hips spinning your body on his so that you’re facing him, and slams your back against the ground. You groan and he pins your upper arms to the concrete.

“Who the hell are you,” he growls.

“Not, Natasha. But you can call me anything you want, Captain,” your legs are still around him and you press yourself up, grinding against his body. Lifting your head you kiss him hard. 

Why in the hell he kisses you back for a split second, a low rumble shaking in his chest, he doesn’t know. The moment is fleeting but the distraction has the desired effect. For you anyway.

You’re able to knock him off balance and land a hard blow to his solar plexus. A quick crack to his jaw then his knee further unsettles him. It’s clear you’re not like him but you are good, damn good.

You place enough distance between you quickly that he can’t just reach out to counter and look around frantically. Popov is nowhere to be found.  

“Mother fucker!” You whip a gun out pointing it straight at his head as he rises. “If you just cost me this one you owe me a million, Cap.” A gunshot goes off and he flinches. The bullet passing just past his head. Then you’re gone.

Annoyed he picks up his shield trying to see where the hell you went. It’s pretty clear Popov went through the door and back out the way Steve had come in as the two of you fought. He jumps off the side of the building rage boiling.

He takes out five more of Popov’s men with vicious abandon. Losing himself in the fight. Letting himself just be this for a moment. Finally, he runs into Rumlow.

“This is a shit show, Cap. We got nothing,” Rumlow is panting. “Haven’t even seen Popov.”

“I saw him,” Steve grumbles.

“Where is he?!”

“Slipped me,” Rumlow raises his brows. “Not perfect man.” Rumlow just laughs and nudges his shoulder in acknowledgment.

They spend the next half hour clearing the area. No sign of you or Popov. Frustration boils in his veins.

It’s a bust and they call it.

Rumlow rounds the jet before Steve and hisses, “Holy fuck.” Steve rushes around to see what threat is coming their way. There’s no threat. At least not a visible one.

Popov is leaned against the building facing the jet. His mouth hangs open, a red wig on his head, his eyes very clearly gone.

Steve spins around, looking for any sign that you’re close and comes up empty.

Who in the hell were you?

-

Three days after that night you stare at your reflection in the floor length mirror. The bruises from Rogers’ fingers on your hips have faded a touch but not the feeling they left you with. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you expected from Captain America but it sure as shit wasn’t that.

He was brutal. You’d watched him fight before going for Popov trying to read what the situation would look like. Without a care, he threw himself into the fray… damn near unstoppable. So much like you, he liked the fight, the blood, and the sweat and the adrenaline. That was written all over him. But you couldn’t get past the feeling that he wanted to lose…

Your fingers touch your lips. He allowed himself to be distracted by your kiss. You were pretty certain he’d even kissed you back a bit, enjoyed it even. If he’d been truly concerned about self-preservation there’s no way the world’s greatest soldier would have fallen into that honey pot.

As much as you don’t want to admit it… he intrigued you. Of all the bears you shouldn’t poke S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best asset is pretty much number one. But… you weren’t always known for your sound judgment.

Two days later you’re hanging out near the National Mall watching Steve Rodgers run. It’s early and quiet, peaceful. The sky is lifting from dawn to morning. It’s a little dull but watching him is making you thirsty for more than your morning coffee, that’s for damn sure.

He does this every day. Not the smartest thing for someone of his status to have such a predictable schedule. Again, you’re hit with his disregard of safety. Sure he’s a super soldier but any sniper worth their salt, or someone like you, could easily wait in just the right spot on this path and plant a bullet between his eyes. No amount of serum would fix a blown out skull.

You’ve been following him for the better part of a week. He’s honestly not the most interesting person to stalk. He seems to like libraries, museums, parks. Public places where he can fade into the background and just watch, drawing or jotting down notes, are a favorite of his. You never really see him with anyone else… There’s a melancholy to him, a loneliness. Something you relate to. 

On day six you think you’re ready to chat. You get two of your morning coffees, he strikes you as a black coffee kind of guy anyway, and head to wait near the end of his running circuit.

As he slows his pace near the usual place you begin a slow clap. “Bravo, I mean really. Best time this week yeah?” A smirk curls your lips as he stares at you in confusion before realization dawns on his face.

“You,” he growls and struts over. Bending down you pick up the coffees. He stops in front of you, chest bowed out looking down with angry blue eyes.

You lift the coffee to his face, “Thirsty?” One of his blonde brows ticks up as he eyes you. “For what it’s worth I swear it’s nothing but black coffee.” He plucks it from your hand and unsurprisingly takes a swig. You give him an appraising stare.

“What?”

“I could have easily poisoned that ya know?” You sip your coffee as he shrugs.

“Figured you didn’t.”

“Uh huh. Well, you’re either too trusting, an idiot, or-”

“Or what?”

“You’ve got a death wish. My money’s on that one.” You smirk at him, “And my money is good.”

“And you make it by ripping people’s eyes out.” He completely deflects the first part of your comment. 

You let it slide. “A little dramatic I know.” You begin to walk away, “Wanna finish your circuit?” He stares at you for a minute, realizing that means you’ve been casing him, before following. “Anyway, that was the job. They wanted him dead and they wanted his eyes. I got them what they wanted. I got what I wanted.”

“Any chance of you telling me who they are?”

“Nope.”

“Well, they seem like great people to work for.”

“Smug for someone who’s just a glorified weapon in a tight suit.”

He grabs your shoulder and spins you, “I do what I do to help people not-”

“Because you feel dead inside if you’re not fighting?” Casually you sip your coffee, unfazed by his reaction. “Look, we all do what we have to. I’m not judging you.”

Releasing your shoulder he takes a few steps back. “You’re a murderer. I should-”

You cut him off with a bellowing laugh, “Should what?” 

His jaw clenches, a muscle in his forehead starting to tick. “And personally I prefer mercenary. Murders usually don’t get paid. Anyway, that’s one high horse you’re on.” 

“What’s that supposed to-”

“You’re trying to tell me you’ve never killed anyone and enjoyed it? Even a little?” His mouth opens before snapping shut. You pat his chest and start walking again, “It’s ok. I won’t tell anyone the star-spangled man with a plan doesn’t mind a little blood on his hands. Huh, that kinda rhymes.” You laugh a little at your own bad humor. Wade would like that one. 

“Is there a point to this?” You note he’s slowed his stride to keep pace with your shorter legs.

“You piqued my curiosity is all. I have to say you weren’t what I was expecting.”

“What exactly do people expect when they meet Captain America.?”

“Hmm… Less berserker and more poster boy. Far less snark. More vanilla, less kissing mercs on a rooftop.” He stops walking and you turn to face him. “Why, Captain Rogers, is that a blush I see?”

He clears his throat. “I think you misinterpreted-”

Another laugh bubbles from you, “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a long time.”

“This is what you call fun?” He pushes past you.

“I’ll admit my bar is kind of low these days but I’ll take what I can get.” You hang back just a step or so behind. “Thanks for the entertainment.”

-

Steve turns to make a comment about not being a dancing monkey and suddenly you’re nowhere to be seen. What were you some kind of fucking Houdini?! You were better at disappearing than even Natasha.

He stalks home, angry and frustrated with himself. Why had he even spoken to you? You were a murderer... mercenary... whatever. He should have taken you in immediately. But… the things you said…

Something about how you saw through him and didn’t hold back made him think of Bucky… Even your easy laugh, the way you seemed to constantly be smirking brought to mind his old friend. Your moxie though, that was so Peggy... 

He’d been thinking a lot lately of old friends. Wondering, perhaps a little too much, if being brought out of the ice was really something he was actually happy about.

As he slips out of his running shorts he feels something in the pocket that wasn’t there earlier. A card from a coffee shop. Flipping it over he sees the handwritten number. For a minute he stares, arguing with himself.

What he should do is give this number to the techs at S.H.I.E.L.D. to track. But… no part of him actually has any interest in doing that. He picks up his phone and dials. Strangely, he’s nervous as it rings and rings, not knowing what he’ll even say if you answer.

You don’t answer. The automated voicemail picks up and he ends the call. Rolling his eyes he tosses his phone on his bed and gets in the shower.

He’d hoped the steam would clear his head. It didn’t. With half a mind to try calling you again, he picks up his phone, toweling off his hair with one hand.

His mouth hangs slack a little when he sees the text from you:

-“Glad you found my note ;)”

Grinding his teeth he sets the phone back down, walking to his closet. Why do people like communicating like this? Isn’t talking easier? His phone dings behind him. After a minute he slips into boxer briefs and looks:

-“That’s a great coffee shop by the way. You should check it out.”

His fingers tap nervously on the back of the phone before responding:

S- “Local favorite of yours?”

A few seconds later you respond:

-“Lol, sorta. As of a week ago.”

S- “So not a DC girl?”

- “Nice try Cap.”

He can’t help the smirk on his face.

S- “Steve is good. You got a name?”

There’s a lull. He gets dressed and still no response.

S- “Didn’t expect one.”

Z- “How’s Zelda?”

S- “Interesting.”

Z- “Lol. It’s just from my favorite video game. Have you played?”

Steve searches, Zelda as he heads to the kitchen for water. The first thing that pops up is something called “The Legend of Zelda.” Settling into the couch he responds:

S- “Nope. Not sure video games are my thing.”

Z- “Ok but have you even tried?”

S- “No.”

Z- “Maybe give it a shot before you assume. You’re old, not dead.”

A bitter laugh pops from him without warning. You weren’t wrong.

The next day there’s a package outside his door. He’s highly suspicious until he reads the note:

“Maybe this will bring a little fun into your life. -Z”

It’s a Nintendo DS, whatever that means. He’s a little taken back by the gesture. Sure, it’s a little snarky but it’s also kind of a nice thing. Something he wasn’t anticipating.

Your text conversation continues for weeks. There would be days of silence but you’d often pop in daily with a little something you deem necessary for his “assimilation into the 21st century.”

Surprisingly he finds himself enjoying the video game, it’s cathartic in a way. He does have to be careful to not press too hard on accident and break the fragile plastic buttons and casing. After you insisted he watches Star Trek the DVD’s showed up in a gigantic box. Every single version of the show. The old ones were campy but he enjoyed them. However, he thinks he prefers Picard to Kirk. You tell him the best is Janeway, the female captain he’s yet to get to.

One day you send him a picture.

He doesn’t get it until he’s back from a particularly ridiculous mission, one that made him feel more like a janitor than a soldier. 

His mood is shit and all he wants to do is hit something until it breaks. But when he opens his phone he’s distracted from his rage.

A cathedral, it makes him think of St. Patrick’s in Manhattan, silhouetted against a purple evening sky. It’s truly stunning.

Z- “It never gets old. Kinda like you.”

A smile lifts his lips as he responds:

S- “Har har. I age, trust me. Where is that? It’s beautiful.”

Z- “... what?! Have you never been to New Orleans?!”

Steve feels his chest tighten. Honestly, he’d been so many places… but seen next to nothing.

S- “No. It looks nice.”

Z- “Ugh. Don’t super soldiers get vacation time?”

S- “Ha! Didn’t think to check the benefits package before I signed up.”

All the sudden he doesn’t want to beat his knuckles bloody... First, it’s just a small sketch in his notebook, then he decides he wants to do something more.

When he’d moved into his apartment he bought an easel, canvases, and just about any art supply he could think of… and never once touched any of them. Tonight though he breaks them out, there’s something about that purple sky that he wants to capture and a pencil sketch just won’t cut it. 

By the time he’s about to fall over from exhaustion, he’s only managed to sketch it all out on the canvas but still… it feels good. It feels like something Steve Rogers and not Captain America, would do.

A little over a month after you first start your conversation you send:

Z- “Got any plans tonight?”

For a few minutes, he stares at the screen, mouth suspiciously dry. He didn’t have plans. Who the hell would he have plans with? Finally, he wills his fingers to work:

S- “Nope.”

Z- “Figured :P”

He laughs:

S- “Ouch.”

Z- “Lol! Do you even own a suit?”

S- “I’m beginning to think you have no faith in me. Of course, I have a suit.”

Z- “This may be the one time your old fashioned ways pay off. You’d be surprised how many men these days don’t.”

S- “Finally! I was waiting for there to be a perk.”

Z- “Well good. 16th and M at 20:00.”

S- “Didn’t say I’d go.”

Z- “Don’t be late ;)”

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers reader #captain america #writing challenge #LDMWC