Summary: With all the uncertainty of the new year looming before you and the Avengers this New Year’s Eve, there’s one man whose got a plan or two up his sleeve.
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Words: 2,481
Warnings: nothing really, some drinking
A/N- Happy New Year everyone! This idea popped into my head earlier today and I just had to get it out before 2017 was officially over. It’s been a while since I’ve written a fic, so I hope you enjoy!
You check out your appearance in the elevator mirror as you wait for it to carry you up to the top floor of the Avengers’ tower. You’ve got your favorite ankle boots, black skinny jeans, and an off-the-shoulder light grey sweater, not as dressed up as you usually would be for a Tony Stark party, especially when you considered what his last New Years Eve party was like (if drunken memory serves, you’re pretty sure you drank your weight in gold-laced champagne while wearing a dress that cost two months’ salary) but Tony had insisted on keeping things low-key this year. Just friends and family were invited to the Avengers’ tower to ring in the new year, and to be honest, you were grateful, this year had been a doozy for the Avengers to say the least.
You step off the elevator and take a look around the room. No crazy decorations or loud blaring music, though it seems that Wanda is trying to amend that first observation. You marvel as she uses her powers to hang some streamers on the wall. Steve waves you over towards the kitchen where him and Bucky are sitting on bar stools, watching Pepper prepare dinner. As you approach Steve sends Bucky a look, and Bucky elbows Steve in the ribs, not one to question their antics, you say hi and you hug them both.
You glance over at the kitchen where Pepper is working away and look back at the super soldiers sitting before you.“Way to be helpful guys...” you move around the island to give Pepper a hug and ask if she needs a hand. She gets you started on putting the salad together. “Hey Buck?” he looks up from the beer label he’s studying, and his blue eyes meet yours. “Do you mind being actually useful for a second and grabbing me a beer?” you flash him a cheeky smile as he throws you a look of mock insult. “Oohh, put the boy to work!” Steve jeers and slaps Bucky on the arm as he gets up to get you a drink. You shoot Steve a half-hearted scold. “What? Food’s almost ready any way.” You shake your head and roll your eyes as you start chopping tomatoes for the salad.
Moments later, Bucky appears at your side, two beers in hand.
“Wasn’t sure which one you’d want. There’s... “ he twists the bottles towards his face and squints as he reads, “Raging Bitch Belgian IPA” and “River Horse Roly Poly Pils...” you looks back to you, not fully sure that he’d read those right.
“I’ll take the pilsner, thanks.”
Bucky turns to Steve, “is it just me, or have beer names gotten a hell of a lot weirder?” Steve nods in agreement as Bucky passes the beer to his left hand and pops the cap off with his metal thumb “Definitely.”
“Show off” you mutter as you take the beer from him. Bucky pops the cap off the second beer and lifts his bottle up to toast you, as your bottles clank together you bump your hip into his “Thanks Barnes, Happy New Year” he shifts his weight uneasily “H-Happy New Year.”
Always one to announce himself, Tony steps out of the elevator doors with a cheerful holler, “Found it!” he holds a dusty glass bottle aloft, “Anyone interested in a 100 year old vintage? I knew I had a whiskey from 1918 in the cellar.” Tony makes his way over to the kitchen and gives Pepper a peck on the cheek, then turns to you. “You want to help me crack this open?” He gestures to the dusty bottle in his hands and you scoff out a laugh.
“Not right now, unless you want me to be dancing on the table before we’ve even eaten dinner”
Tony tilts his head, and elbows Bucky in the ribs “that could be arranged.” If you had been paying close enough attention, you would’ve noticed the red blush crawling up Bucky’s neck, but you were too focused on not chopping off one of your own fingers as you diced tomatoes for the salad.
“Yeah, maybe later Tony, not looking to get sloshed tonight.”
Tony shrugs and puts the 100 year old whiskey down on the bar. “What’s the ETA on dinner, babe?”
Pepper opens the oven to check the temperature of the ham she’s roasting, “We are just about ready... how’s that salad comin Y/N?” Tony shoots a playful look your way, “Yeah, Y/N, how’s that salad?” Steve and Bucky chuckle to themselves as you take in all of the 2 tomatoes you’ve sliced. “It’s... it’s coming...”
“Well make it come faster!”
“Tony!” Pepper lightly smacks him with the spatula she’s using and scowls at him. “How about rather than being a smart ass you actually help set the table.”
“Now there’s an idea.” Steve quips.
“You too, Steve. The more help I get, the faster we eat.”
You and Bucky watch as Steve and Tony trudge over to the dining room table and start to lay down dishes. You shake your head and sigh,
“And these are the guys we trust to lead our team?” you jokingly raise an eyebrow at Bucky, who, while you were talking, stole a chunk of tomato from your cutting board.
“Dude!”
Bucky’s eyes light up a mischievous blue as you smack him and tell him to go help the other useless idiots set the table.
After dinner, everyone’s gathered in the living room, there’s still a few hours until midnight, and normally this would be when everyone’s energy starts to drain, but the team seems pretty peppy.
Clint’s brought his kids and wife to the tower for Tony’s New Year’s Eve party, so him, Nat, and Wanda busy themselves with chasing them around the living room. Clint’s son squeals with joy and surprise as Nat tosses him into the couch cushions. Pepper, Vision, and Rhodey start up a game of Scrabble as Sam calls Steve over to the pool table.
Everyone is happy and lively, almost determinedly so, each one fighting to keep their worries about the future at bay so that they can enjoy the evening and move into the new year on a high note.
This year has been hard fought and barely won. The Avengers came close to losing everything this year, and it’s left everyone notably shaken.
You lean up against the massive window, trying to glimpse the famous ball in Times Square, and as you do you can’t help let your mind drift. All of the people packed into the cold streets below are there to celebrate the possibilities of the upcoming year; what goals are they going to achieve? What new opportunities will they encounter? What new loves await them? But for you and the rest of the Avengers, thinking about what the new year might hold brings on a wildly different list of possibilities. You’ve all seen the world nearly crumble in your hands, and now you’re all too aware of the tape and strings now barely managing to hold it all together. What if next time the string snaps forever? What if next time your team’s not strong enough to save the world? What if next time the Avengers fail? What would happen to all those people down below? Their hopes and dreams, and lives...
Each and every single Avenger grapples with these fears, and as you look around the room at each of your teammates you know that despite the happy faces and lively conversations on this New Year’s Eve, each Avenger is actively trying to think about literally anything other than the future.
A heavy arm suddenly draped around your shoulders pulls you from your thoughts. When you look up you’re surprised to find none other than Bucky Barnes looking out the window next to you. Bucky seemed to always be able to sense when something was bothering you. The two of you had gotten better at reading each other the more you worked together, and It almost feels like he can read your thoughts as he squeezes you gently into his side and quietly asks “You alright?”
You wrap your arm around his back and sigh “Yeah... just thinking.” He looks down at you and nods knowingly, then looks back out the window “Yeah..... lotta that goin around” Over the years, an unspoken understanding has developed between the two of you, if either of you wants to talk, then you will, otherwise it’s a no questions asked type of arrangement. The two of you look silently through the window, presumably both lost in thought. Though to your surprise, Bucky picks up where he had apparently left off “... Yeah it’s been a hell of a year... Though I hafta admit.... it hasn’t been all bad despite, well.... everything.” He looks down at you again, except this time there’s a light behind his eyes and a softness that you’ve never seen from him before; you clear your throat and lift your head from his shoulder slightly. As close as the two of you had grown over this past year, you weren’t really used to this much physical contact from Barnes, and you suddenly don’t know what to do with yourself as you look up into his soft blue eyes. Why were you suddenly so uncomfortable?
“Ey yo Barnes!” mercifully, Sam breaks up your moment with Bucky by shouting across the room from the pool table, “How about you come play some pool?” You lift Bucky’s beer from him and elbow him towards the pool table as you head to the bar for two refills, a much needed diversion.
Sam flicks the end of a pool cue up to Bucky, who in turn takes it and eyes Sam suspiciously. “What? You getting tired of getting your ass whooped by some geezer from Brooklyn? Cause callin me over ain’t gonna fix that problem for ya.”
Laughing, Steve lifts his beer to air, silently cheersing Bucky before taking a long drink.
“No.” Sam replied flatly, “I’m tired of getting my ass whooped by a dude with super powers. I’m lookin to even the playing field a little. Speaking of, where’s Y/N? We’re playing doubles.”
You step up to the pool table, two new frosty beers in hand. “You rang?” You pass one of the beers you’re holding to Bucky, and move around the pool table to grab yourself a cue.
“Yeah, about time, missy. Alright, you and Barnes versus me and Cap.”
“Who the hell you callin missy, Bird Boy?”
“Bird Boy? Oh, it is ON.”
Before you know it, you, Sam, Steve, and Bucky have been playing pool for the better part of two hours, and the new year is mere minutes away. Clint’s kids hurriedly shoo you all away from the pool table and everyone settles on the couches and chairs in front of the TV. Initially you’re sandwiched between Sam and Steve on the couch, but after a brief yet strangely tense exchange of glances between Bucky and Steve as Bucky hovered not far from the couch, Steve opts for a nearby armchair, leaving Bucky to settle in next to you.
Pepper passes out flutes of champagne and Wanda adorns everyone with various New Years decorations (somewhat forcibly in some cases). Once everyone is officially ready for the ball to drop, all that’s left to do is wait. It’s just a few short minutes, but in that time, an uneasy quiet settles over the room, everyone’s minds drifting off as the countdown clock marches on towards an unknowable future. Sensing the sudden shift in the room, Steve clears his throat and rises from his seat, motioning for Tony to do the same.
He raises his champagne glass slightly as he searches for the right words. “This year hasn’t been easy... and I know it’s tempting to dwell on that, and it’s impossible not to worry about what this new year will bring, but I just want to take this time to say I’m grateful to have every single one of you on my team. And I know that whatever 2018 brings, we’ll be able to face it together.... But, rather than worrying, let’s use this New Year to remember why we fight the battles we fight... and who we fight for...” you feel Bucky’s arm rest upon your shoulders as Steve continues his toast, “Here’s to friends and family....” Steve lifts his champagne glass high and looks to Tony to see if there’s anything he’d like to add...
“And may 2018 be less of a bitch than 2017!”
Several “here here”s sound from the group as Tony lifts his glass to toast in the new year. Everyone raises from their seats to join the toast just as the countdown on the TV moves into the last 10 seconds of 2017. Clint’s kids excitedly start yelling the numbers as they flash up on the screen, and everyone starts counting down with them.
“10!”
“9!”
“8!”
You feel a hand slip around your waist as you count along with the crowd.
“7!”
“6!”
Bucky pulls you even closer to his side and you wrap your arm around his back.
“5!”
“4!”
Bucky’s fingers drum lightly on your side, and you feel his breathing pick up its pace.
“3!”
“2!”
“1!”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”
Confetti drops on Time Square on the TV screen as the classic “Aud Lang Syne” blares through the speakers. The host on the TV pulls her husband into shot and plants a big wet kiss on him, prompting Clint to dramatically scoop his wife up into a passionate kiss. Nat joins his kids in a chorus of “boos” and puke noises as Clint makes a show of ringing in the new year with his wife. Tony and Pepper share a quiet moment of embrace by the sofa as Wanda and Vision share a kiss by the fireplace. You clink your champagne flute with Steve and Sam, and when you turn to cheers with Bucky you find him already looking down at you intently, with a look in his eyes that causes your heart to pound in your chest.
Bucky moves his face closer to yours, his eyes searching your face as he inches closer. Before you’ve even fully realized what’s happening, you’re overtaken by the feeling of Bucky’s lips on your own. They’re soft and supple and warm, and as Bucky’s hand on your back pulls you closer into him, you reach your hand up to his face. The whole world fades away in Bucky’s warm embrace, and you can scarcely believe what’s happening.
The two of you part, just slightly, and you both break into breathy laughs, and wide-eyed smiles. Bucky pushes a hair behind your ear and moves in close again, this time to whisper in your ear.
“Happy New Year.”
____________
Hope you enjoyed! Happy New Year to everyone! May 2018 be less of a bitch than 2017!
Summary: You almost hit Bucky Barnes with your car, leaving an impressive handprint on your hood. If only you knew then what else those hands would do.
A/N: I really wanted to experiment with my writing style for this one, I tried to make it feel more like a poem or stylized prose while taking a kind of minimalist approach, but I didn’t really stick to that as strictly as I would have liked. I’d love to hear what ya’ll think about the style (and anything else- i’m always open to constructive criticism)
HUGE shout-out to the amazing @lowkeybuckytrash for proofreading this for me and being an all around wonderful person <3 <3
Your hand searches blindly for the ringing phone in your bag. You’re trying to keep your eyes on the road. Finally, you find it in the depths of your bag and answer the call without looking. “Talk to me.” You pull up to a red light and roll to a stop.
“Hey, this is Hill. Are you on your way to the tower? There’s been a development in the case, we need you here for the mission brief, ASAP.”
The light turns green, you rush forward.
“Yeah, I’m already on my way, just a few blocks out. What happened that it’s suddenly so urgent?”
“Another scientist has gone missing, this is more serious than we thought.”
“Alright, I’ll be there in a-SHIT!”
You slam the brakes.
A hand! The screeching of tires and the sound of crunching metal. A metal hand crashes into the hood of your car, forcing you to a stop. You look up, shaken; bright blue eyes glare at you through the windshield. The lights had changed, you hadn’t noticed.
“Shit” you repeat, this time more quietly.
The metal hand flexes and frees itself from the crumpled metal of your hood, its gears and mechanisms whirring angrily as the hand’s owner continues to stare you down. You shrink into the driver’s seat and don’t bother asking if he’s okay, you already know the answer. The lights change again and the man continues to glare at you as he steps up onto the sidewalk. You let out a shaky breath.
“What the hell was that?” you hear a voice coming from the phone you dropped; carefully you reach down and grab it.
“You didn’t happen to call Sergeant Barnes in on this mission, did you?”
“I did..”
“Ah. Well that was me nearly hitting him with my car.” You eye the jagged outline of the handprint on your hood, and swallow hard before hanging up.
___
You yank the heavy briefing room door open and head towards the armory; you have a mission to prepare for. A cold hand shoves you on the shoulder and Bucky brushes past you. His cold blue eyes are piercing. “How about you watch where you’re goin.” There’s a knowing bite to his words. He never breaks his stride as he stares you down.
“S-sorry!... Barnes! I didn’t mean to....with the car.... I jus- ugh” You run your hand down your face; it’s no use.
“Gear-up.” He yells coldly over his shoulder.
___
An explosion, the sound of debris crashing into the water, the smell of burning oil. The ship begins to keel left and you lose your footing. You’re sliding down fast, grasping out for something, anything that will keep you from going overboard.
Rough hands wrap around your wrist and grab tight, you lurch to a sudden stop and are left hanging for a moment. You reach up and grab onto Bucky’s hand as he pulls you up to him.
“Thank you.”
A silent nod is all you get as he looks down at your wrist. He releases it from his metal grasp. It’s pink and slowly swelling, but you don’t care; you’re alive.
___
A calming hand settles on your lower back as you walk into a crowded room of potential targets. It wrinkles the red silk of your gown just slightly as it presses reassuringly into you. You are not a fan of undercover work, but the mission is simple enough.
“Just like we planned.”
Barnes nods at you, and a wink from those cool blue eyes gets you to smile and relax just a bit.
Left hand in his pocket, right hand on the small of your back; he scans the room.
“You two make quite a pair” a teammate in your ear chimes. You scoff lightly, but you feel a thumb graze the skin of your back as it rubs gently back and forth. A blush crawls to your cheeks.
You turn into Bucky and lay a hand on his chest to whisper into his ear.
“Target is at your 3 o’clock,” you flick your eyes up to his and nod to your left, marking the target.
“Good eyes, doll. Let’s do this.”
___
A hand presses into your stomach. You lay in the dirt, limp, weak and fading, fading fast. You’re leaking out, turning the dirt to mud. There’s so much blood, oh god there’s so much blood. The hand presses harder into your stomach.
“Just stay calm, stay with me.”
How can you stay anywhere when you’re bleeding out all over the place?
Another hand comes to the side of your face and strokes your cheek gently. Bucky lifts your head to rest on his shoulder. Are you trembling or is he? His hand moves sweat-soaked hair out of your face. You watch his blue eyes trace your features, he looks worried, really worried.
Suddenly, a kiss! A kiss to your lips... A kiss followed by a plea: “Stay with me, please, please.”
But you can’t. Your blood is running too far away. A hand shakes you, but you can’t feel it. You can’t feel anything; you’re numb. You’re fading fast, following the trail of blood into the darkness.
___
A hand is clasped tightly around yours as you awake to bright hospital lights and a relieved smile.
Another kiss from Bucky; you could get used to this.
His hand rests gently on your forehead, his fingers trace light circles against your hair.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
You chuckle weakly. “I should have watched where I was going.”
“Yeah, you got that right.” A light shake of his head and a chuckle. It’s your turn to bring your hand to his face, you run your fingers through his beard. He smiles and your heart flutters.
___
Hands cup either side of your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. Fingers tangle into your hair. You move your hands around his waist and pull him closer. Hips roll, kisses deepen. Bucky moans, you giggle. Hands push through the door to his bedroom and slam it closed behind you; hands tear recklessly at clothes and undergarments. Bucky pulls at you, come closer, closer, closer still.
Bucky’s metal hand sends shivers down your exposed skin; his other hand makes you warm in all the right places. His hands trace up and down your curves, then pull at your hips, bringing you into his lap. Your hands pull at his hair, his hands knead at your breasts. You are lost in each other, this is everything you have been waiting for.
Hands grasp your hips as you ride up and down on Bucky. You pull him down to your chest and push your hands through his hair. He captures your breast in his mouth. His hands hold your hips tighter and tighter still as you move up and down, up and down on him, driving both of you towards the edge. Your moans twist together in the air. Fists balled up in the sheets and sighs of ecstasy mark a beautiful finale.
___
Bucky’s hands gently caress the bruises he left on your hips.
You admire the purple marks in the mirror; they aren’t pretty. They are angry and swollen and purple.
You love them.
You trace the perfect outlines of each of Bucky’s hands, etched into your skin.
“I’ll be more careful next time” he nuzzles into you gently.
“Don’t you dare!....” you draw his hands up into your own and kiss them gently, “I love these hands”
These hands that pulled you into passionate kisses, that comforted you, protected you, that kept you from falling to your death. These hands that pushed you, pulled you, and left a crazy dent in the hood of your car.
Bucky’s left handprints all over your life, and now you can’t imagine it any other way.
Summary: Soulmate AU, you and everyone you know has the first thing their soulmate will ever say to them tattooed to their wrist. But what happens when your tattoo bares one of the most generic, unoriginal greetings in the book?
A/N: No particular fandom here, but I wrote it so that you could insert/imagine whatever paring you’d want. I’ve had this idea for ages and finally finished the story i started a few months back. Soulmate AU’s give me so many questions I needed to imagine a least a few answers for my self... so many possibilities. (if you have other soulmate AU prompts send em my way!)
Words: 1,536
Warnings: some swearing, memories of an instance of abuse/fight
You sat in the busy cafe, minding only your coffee, your book, and your own business. It was more crowded than usual for a Tuesday, but as long as you were able to find a table for yourself you were fine with the extra hustle and bustle. You’d just finished your coffee when you felt a pair of eyes on you from across the room. You shifted slightly in your seat and endeavored to focus on your reading- the plot was just starting to get good and you were hardly sure you’d be able to put the book down until you finished it.
A few minutes later you noticed a young man- probably about your age- moving towards you from where he’d been seated by the window. He slowly made his way through the mass of people grumpily waiting for their mornin’ fix until he arrived at your table. He smiled almost sheepishly at you:
“Hey.”
“Zucchini” you replied.
“W-what?”
“Zucchini?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and smiling hopefully.
The man before you shook his head in confusion. “I-I don’t know what you mean...”
Your expression dropped slightly and you let out a sigh. “Sorry about that, worth a shot.”
The man continued to stare at you like you had 3 heads, so you lifted your sleeve to reveal your left wrist. The elegant cursive font and black ink was known to everyone, even those who hadn’t turned 18 yet, and upon seeing your mark the man immediately understood.
“Ohhh. Damn, that’s gotta be annoying.”
You laughed dryly. “Tell me about it.”
You looked down at your own wrist, examining the word you’d been wearing for 8 years now.
“Hey!”
Why couldn’t your soulmate have been a little more creative with their first words to you? Did they have any idea how many times in a given day people greeted each other with that simple, stupid word?
“Hey!”
You rolled your eyes slightly and looked back up at the guy who’d approached you with a smile.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got ‘zucchini’ written there, do ya?” You chuckled because you already knew the answer.
“Sorry, no such luck.” He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his soulmate’s first words.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to read.”
You laughed aloud. “Don’t tell me you’ve been going around and bothering every person you see with a book?”
“Kinda seems like I have to, doesn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled.
You shook your head at the absurdity of it all. It was like as soon as everyone turned 18 they had a new mission in life: find their soulmate, figure out what possible context they could have spoken their first words to you in and approach every single person who looked like they might fit the bill. It was a common practice, really, so it didn’t surprise you, but after being dealt the most commonly used, least specific greeting in the book, you’d grown admittedly bitter about the whole thing. And besides, there was no guarantee that’d you’d ever actually meet your soulmate, so all that work could end up being for nothing.
“Well it was nice to meet you... Good luck.” The guy smiled sympathetically before turning to leave.
“Yeah, you too.”
You turned back to your book’s plot, which was progressing quite excitingly, unlike most other things in your life.
After reading for a moment you realized that you had zoned out and hadn’t actually absorbed any of the words you were seeing, so you went back and started the paragraph over again. Your eyes scanned the lines of the page once, twice, three times, but you couldn’t get the words to stick, couldn’t focus... couldn’t stop thinking about the damned ink on your wrist and the path you had thought your life was on not-so-long ago.
You rolled your eyes; how many years were you going to spend regretting this? How many more times were you going to have to relive the same pathetic story?
He’d said “Hey.”
You’d said “Hello there.”
And from the look of shock on his face and the blush rising in his cheeks you knew, you just knew, you’d found your one. Your destined match, your soulmate. He had your words, you had his, it was a match made in the stars.
You slapped your book shut and slouched back in your seat with a huff as the memories came back to you in a rush. God, you were so naive.
And he was everything you had pictured him to be too, the exact kind of guy you’d been attracted to your whole life... not that it counted for much- for most people it was soulmate or bust, why waste time building a life with someone who definitely wasn’t “the one.” But he was perfect, at the very least perfect to look at anyway. Sure things were rough at first, you were strangers to each other; there was a lot of catching up to do and the rest of forever to get ready for.
Bumps in the road were normal. This was normal.
A chill of disgust ran through your body. You slid your book into your purse, got up and made your way towards the cafe exit. Maybe a change of scenery would help get him off of your mind.
As you pushed open the door you remembered how excited everyone had been for you. Your mom cried, your friends threw you a party, you were on top of the world.
As you got to know each other, it didn’t seem like you had a whole lot of shared interests, and your world views couldn’t have been more different, but that happened from time to time with soulmates. You’d heard all sorts of stories of soulmates who started out hating each other until they finally figured out how to make things work.
You were a pessimist, he was blindingly optimistic. This was normal. You recycled with religious ferocity, he tossed his garbage out his car window. Totally normal for soulmates. You loved the beach, he couldn’t stand salt water... or sand. Normal, fine, whatever, you’d vacation somewhere else. You were in one political party, he, of course, was in another. A perfectly normal, though annoying bump in the road. You were a strict monogamist, he said that sleeping around was fine because your soulmate would always be there in the end. That was... not great, but just another bump in the road you told yourself.
You swung your leg over the seat of your bike, strapped on your helmet, and hopped your bike down off the sidewalk onto the street.
But how many problems did soulmates usually have? How many bumps in the road was normal? How many bumps did it take before you’d finally started to question whether he was worth all the time, tears and screaming.
Too damn many.
He thought soulmates should stay together, no matter what, you slammed the door in his face after he threw a bottle at you and never looked back.
You hooked a right onto 5th Ave, feet flying as you furiously pedaled along with traffic, your blood officially boiling from all the emotions that came with these unwelcome memories. Anger, remorse, shame. Oh god, the shame.
You’d wasted far more years than you’d like to count on a supposed soulmate, and while you hadn’t given up completely on the idea that they might be out there somewhere, you certainly weren’t actively looking for them anymore. The best you could do was live your life how you wanted for now and see what happened. But it seemed rather hard (read: impossible) to do that when you could barely manage to stop thinking about him. Shit, what if he was the one? What if you walked away from the only soulmate etched for you in the stars by destiny itself?
You shook your head. No, stop it. You told yourself you’d stop thinking like that. Well it’s not every day that someone walks out on their supposed soulmate. You’re better than this. Am I?
Suddenly the car you’re riding beside edges into the bike lane, forcing you up onto the sidewalk.
“Hey!”
Jumping the curb, you to swipe into a passerby and lose control of your bike. It slides out from under you and knocks into someone else, laying you out flat on the pavement.
You look up from your sprawled position on the ground to see fresh produce spilled all over the sidewalk and an angry pair of hands clutching a ripped grocery bag.
“What the hell?!”
“Oh!” You jump up to your feet, out of breath and absolutely brimming with indignation. “OKay, so it’s fine if I get hit by a goddamn car, but god forbid you drop your precious fucking kale!”
The angry expression before you immediately melts away into amused confusion which turns into laughter.
“And here all this time I thought that’d be yelled at me in a grocery store parking lot or something.”
A hand reaches to pull up a sleeve, but you don’t even need to see it to know. You know, and you know it’s for real this time. Well, sure beats zucchini.
Summary: After spending the afternoon drawing all over your legs in sharpie, you’re worried a certain supersoldier won’t be a fan of your new tattooed look, but if nothing else, Steve Rogers is a man who’s full of surprises.
Steve Rogers x Reader
A/N- inspired by “Ink my Skin” by the wonderful @fvckingsteverogers (their story is super cute- read it HERE) and by the fact that this is how I actually spent my afternoon today... well the drawing all over myself part anyway ;) (seriously my legs are covered in sharpie and I have work tomorrow.. thank goodness for long pants) Enjoy the fluff!
Warnings: none, I don’t even think I swore in this one!
Words: 2,833
You looked around your apartment and sighed contentedly, it’d been ages since you’d had time to really go through and clean the place, but since Steve had been on mission for the past week you could finally dedicate some time to clearing out your embarrassingly cluttered apartment. It’s not that you couldn’t clean when he was around, but when he had a day, or hell even an afternoon off, all thoughts of cleaning and productivity were thrown out the window. Even if Steve insisted that he didn’t want to distract you from your work, you just couldn’t keep your hands off of him if he was within arm’s reach.
You reached down and pulled up on the black trash bag lying at your feet, tossing it over your shoulder with a grunt, you carried it towards the front door and plopped it down by the other two trash bags that you told yourself you’d take out later. It was rainy and crummy today, and the last thing you wanted to do was run across the parking lot of your building just to throw out the trash. With Steve away you knew it was more than likely that you’d leave it there for a few days- with no one around to impress, your motivation to keep things super tidy waned, to say the least- but at the very least you knew you wanted to take out the trash before Steve got back from his mission, just so he wouldn’t have to do it.
Making a mental note to remember to get to those bags before Steve did, you stepped into your bedroom and looked around. This was the last room in your apartment you needed to tackle, and it was by far going to take the most work. You had clothes to sort through and donate, linens to wash, and a desk full of useless tchotchkes (knicknacks), notebooks you hadn’t touched in years, and all sorts of other crap that you needed to weed through. You set to work on your desk, figuring it wouldn’t take you too long to figure out what to keep and what to trash, unlike the debate you were likely to face when it came to your clothes. You dumped out the contents of each drawer one at a time and sorted out your stuff accordingly. Aside from some unidentified usb cables, loose post it notes and several years’ worth of school notebooks, there wasn’t a whole lot of stuff to sort through so you were able to work quickly.
To your great surprise, you discovered your old (more like ancient at this point) ipod classic and an unopened 12 pack of sharpie markers at the back of your top drawer. You hopped up excitedly and brought the two treasures to your bed, you just had to know if your ipod still worked, so you plugged it into your laptop and crossed your fingers. Would you like to sync “The Titanic lol” to itunes?
“It liiiives!!!” You proclaimed dramatically. You wiggled excitedly as you got ready for a middle school/high school era jam session, and you literally laughed aloud when Bowling for Soup started to pump out of your computer’s speakers. You reached for the pack of sharpies and pulled the cap off of the black one to see if they were still any good, but all your notebooks and post its were on the other side of the room. You looked down at your bare legs sprawled across the bed, chuckled to yourself and shrugged playfully, Beats getting up to get paper. You did a few test scribbles, just to see if the marker worked, but that quickly turned into doodling a bunch of dandelions just above your knee, which turned into wanting to test all of the markers in the pack, ya know, to be sure they worked.
You got lost in the nostalgic early 2000’s music and stink of sharpies, and before you had realized just how long you’d been sitting there, your leg, foot and ankle were more or less covered in ink. You also hadn’t realized that your front door had opened and closed.
“Y/N?”
“Steve? Is that you??” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you called across the apartment, you knew he was probably exhausted, but the fact that Steve always came straight to your house after a mission filled you with a sense of relief and excitement that you couldn’t quite fully explain.
Steve popped his head into the doorway to your room then stepped completely into view. He wasn’t in his uniform anymore, but you could tell he hadn’t showered at the tower, and to your great relief it looked like he hadn’t been too badly injured this time around.
He drew his face up into a confused wrinkle and laughed softly as he took in the sight before him, “What the hell happened here?”
You were confused for a moment, but one glance down at your legs quickly reminded you of how you’d spent the last few hours. You shrugged and played up an exaggeratedly guilty face,
“I found some new sharpies...?”
Steve shook his head as he stepped into your room and sat on the bed next to you, he placed his hands on either side of your face and pulled you into a gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around him and sighed contentedly. As much as you hated it when he would leave, there was nothing quite like having him back in your arms again after a long mission.
Steve pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against yours, he sighed and closed his eyes as he stroked your hair.
“God, I missed you so much.”
You pecked a light kiss to his lips.
“I missed you too, Steve. ”
Steve smiled at you, his blue eyes shining into yours. He scanned you up and down briefly, and his gaze landed on your heavily inked leg. He chuckled silently to himself and patted your thigh as he started to shake his head again.
“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the biggest fan of tattoos, but you were hoping you’d be in the clear with your recently acquired temporary ones.
“No no... Actually I kinda like em.” He blushed a little at the confession.
“Really?” Now that you hadn’t been expecting.
“Yeah!” He smiled up at you and moved your leg so that it laid across his lap. “You know I love looking at your drawings” he said softly as he started to inspect your work. Steve gently traced the lines on your legs with his finger, sending goosebumps up and down your skin. Art was one of the first things the two of you had bonded over, in fact you had been drawing in your notebook when the gorgeous blonde first approached you in the Avengers tower’s cafeteria.
“Were you finished already?” He looked up at you suddenly, and there was a light behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite identify.
His question caught you a bit off guard. “Uhhh, I dunno. I mean there’s plenty of space left but I was quickly running out of ideas.” You laughed softly. “Why?” You bit your lip slightly as you waited for Steve’s response.
He arched his eyebrow and threw you a playful look, “Can I do some?”
Your face fell into a wide smile and you laughed, this man seriously never ceased to amaze you.
“I’d love that.” You bent forward and reached for the pack of sharpies. You readjusted your seat slightly and motioned at yourself with your best Vanna White impersonation. “Where would you like to work?” You quirked an eyebrow up at him.
Steve pulled his lip into his mouth as he looked you up and down, debating. Finally he reached out towards your shoulder and pushed up the sleeve of your t-shirt.
“Here.” He pressed his hands against your upper arm and shoulder.
Your cheeks flushed slightly, Steve knew just how to push your buttons in any situation, and when he was sweet like this you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing, giggly mess. It was these quiet, intimate moments with the supersolider you cherished the most, because those were the moments when Steve was most at ease, and the most like himself.
You held out the pack of sharpies to him, “Have at it, babe.” Steve pulled out the purple sharpie and you quickly pressed a kiss to his nose. He wrinkled his nose and blushed slightly. He poked your nose in retaliation.
“No peeking.”
“Oh what? That’s not fair!” You pursed your lips in mock annoyance and narrowed your eyes slightly. Steve dropped his head to the side and looked right back at you. While his puppy-dog pout was nearly invincible, you were determined to win him over. After what felt like ages (and after morphing your own expression so that it became more and more ridiculous) Steve finally cracked and let out a laugh.
“Alright, alright fine. You wanna draw on me while I do you?”
You shot up, “You mean it??”
Steve laughed again, it was like music to your ears, if only you could keep him constantly laughing. “Yeah I mean it. It’s only fair. Besides, I’d love to wear some of your art, doll.” He moved in close and nuzzled his nose against yours, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl.
You pulled your lip between your teeth as you scanned your boyfriend’s ridiculously sculpted body for where you’d like to work. You placed your hand over his left bicep and traced light circles into the fabric of his shirt with your finger as you raised your eyebrows at him. Without a word Steve pulled off his shirt and you pulled yourself onto his lap so you could both easily reach where you were going to draw. You wiggled your hips slightly as you adjusted your position in Steve’s lap, and smiled to yourself when he hummed contentedly. You felt your boyfriend’s left hand rest on your hip as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, Steve brushed a loose hair from your face and flashed you a beautiful smile.
“I love you so much, Y/N.”
“I love you too. I’m so glad to have you back.” You kissed him gently on the lips, and as you went to pull away, Steve reached up and pulled you back in, deepening the kiss. Before you got too lost in Steve’s touch, you pulled away and wiggled your eyebrows at him as you reached for the markers.
You pulled the blue sharpie from the pack and got to work on Steve’s chest as he, in turn started in on your left shoulder.
For the next hour, the two of you traded markers back and forth, pausing every so often to kiss or tickle one another. You sang quietly along with the music as you worked, and Steve couldn’t help but look down at you and get lost in the adorable expressions you made as you focused on your drawing.
“Hey, I thought you said no peeking!” you taunted playfully when you caught him staring down at you.
“Sorry doll, couldn’t resist.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead before returning his focus to your arm; whatever he was doing over there it must have been pretty intricate, or it least it felt like it as far as you could tell from the pen moving over your skin.
“Well ya better focus on your own work, cause I’m just about done over here, Rogers.” Even though he wasn’t looking at your face as you spoke, Steve could practically hear the eyebrow wiggle that followed your little brag.
A few minutes later you leaned into Steve and pressed a wet, passionate kiss into his neck to let him know you’d finished your drawing. You felt his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed roughly.
“I take it you’re finished then?”
“Mmhmm” you hummed your answer into his neck as you kept kissing him.
Steve let out a soft moan. “Just give me a second to finish up here doll, otherwise you’re gonna drive me insane.” Deciding not to torture him any further, you let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and you watched him as he finished his drawing.
Moments later, Steve brought his hand up to your cheek and brushed it with his thumb, you could feel him smile against the top of your head.
“You ready to see?”
You sat up in his lap and smiled brightly.
“Hell yeah. Are you?”
“You know it, doll.”
“Go ahead.” You nodded down at the drawing you’d done on Steve’s chest as you reached for a mirror.
Steve looked down at your work and couldn’t help but laugh with surprise at what he saw.
“Is that...?”
You nodded excitedly. “Do you like it?” You held the small mirror up so Steve could better see. Steve’s hand traced over the small ferris wheel and boardwalk you’d drawn over his skin. You had only been to Coney Island the one time when Steve took you there on a date, but from the smile in his eyes you could tell you’d done a good job capturing his treasured Brooklyn boardwalk.
“Doll... I love it.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a deep kiss. He pulled back suddenly, and his eyes shone with excitement “Your turn.”
You bit your lip excitedly as you twisted to get a better look at your left arm, and once Steve’s drawing came into view you gasped and brought your hand up to your mouth. You were speechless. It started halfway up your forearm and curled just over your shoulder, and it was absolutely stunning. You gingerly traced your right hand over the beautiful bouquet of purple lilacs, pink roses, and red carnations, it was only after a moment that you noticed that in the middle of all of these flowers there was sparrow that had its wings stretched out behind it in flight. How Steve had managed to capture so much detail and beauty with just sharpies you had no idea, but you were absolutely blown away.
“Steve....” you looked up at your boyfriend, you were at a complete loss for words.
Steve smiled softly at you and took your hand in his.
“You remember our first date?”
You nodded, “Of course. T-the flowers, they look just like the ones you gave me... and we saw that huge flock of sparrows when we were walking through the park..”
“Do you remember what you told me about sparrows?”
You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head slightly. Steve brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it.
“When we saw those sparrows, you told me that in Greek mythology, sparrows symbolized true love... I think you said it was because of Aphrodite- but anyway... it just felt right.” He smiled sweetly up at you and you felt your eyes water with tears. What on earth did you do to deserve this beautiful man?
“Oh, Steve...” tears were slowly rolling down your cheeks now, but you didn’t care, “that’s beautiful. And this- this is absolutely stunning.” you said, motioning towards the ink on your shoulder.
Steve held your face in his hands and brushed away your tears with his thumbs. You giggled when he kissed you on the nose.
“I love you, Steve.”
“I love you too.”
You looked back down at Steve’s drawing and bit your lip in thought.
“I know you’re not big on tattoos... but how would you feel if I got this one done?” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t mind the idea.
“Seriously?” he looked surprised, but you nodded enthusiastically and even bounced slightly on his lap to show your excitement.
Steve bit his lip in thought “.... One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You have to draw a sparrow for me to get done.”
Your jaw dropped and you opened your eyes wider than you thought possible.
“Steve! Are you serious?”
Steve nodded, he looked just as excited as you did now, “Yeah!... Sparrows mean true love... So we can’t just have one sparrow.”
Once again you were at a loss for words, but Steve crashed his lips into yours and kissed you, so words weren’t exactly a priority right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself as close to Steve as physically possible. You carded your fingers through Steve’s hair, eliciting a quiet moan as he massaged his hands into your hips and back. In an instant, Steve lifted you from his lap and before you realized what he was doing he had you pinned between him and your mattress, a playful grin splayed across his face.
Summary: Just because you can make yourself invisible doesn’t mean you can keep yourself from getting a nasty sunburn, and after a grueling mission in the Moroccan desert that’s exactly what’s happened. Luckily Steve is more than willing to help you put aloe on those hard-to-reach places once you get back.
A/N: So this took longer than I expected but here it is! The last part of Ghost in the Sun! I hope you guys enjoy, this story was my first go at fic-writing, and this part is my first time writing smut so i seriously appreciate any feedback! Thanks for reading!
Words: 2,702
Warnings: swearing, smut-ish, sunburn?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
After dinner with the whole team, you help Wanda clean up in the kitchen. As excellent as a cook she was, she hadn’t really gotten the hang of not making a complete mess of the kitchen every time she cooked- especially when it came to her homemade sauces- so the clean up takes longer than usual. The two of you chat as Wanda washes dishes and you scrub sauce off of the stove top, catching up on everything you’d missed in the tower during your mission. Once the kitchen looks more like a human living space and less like a grocery store after an earthquake, you head out towards your room, passing the team as they relax in the common room.
Steve’s head pops up as he sees you come in and he looks to you attentively. You come to a stop, having forgotten your post-dinner plans with the supersoldier.
“Oh- right, yeah.” You motion with your head for Steve to join you; Steve smiles at you and nods, quickly pushing himself up out of his chair.
You’re not exactly excited about round two; while you’re grateful for his help, having Steve rub aloe all over you had been all sorts of uncomfortable last time (or at least that’s what you had insisted on telling yourself anyway). Hopefully it would be less weird this time around.
The two of you step into your room, and without giving it a second thought you reach down and casually pull your shirt off over your head, never missing a step as you walk towards the bathroom. Steve’s eyes go wide as you pull the fabric over your head and he can feel his heartbeat pick up a few beats. Is it suddenly warmer in here? He honestly can’t tell. Feeling his face flush, he averts his eyes to the carpet and takes a quick breath before following you into the bathroom.
Not having noticed the super soldier’s brief absence, you squirt some aloe into your hand and start to apply it to that strawberry you call your face. Steve steps in behind you and you pass him the bottle so he can get started on your back.
It’s quiet and strangely tense for a few moments, but suddenly Steve speaks up.
”So how is it that you can even get sunburnt?” His eyes flick up to meet yours in the mirror as he continues massaging the soothing gel into your shoulders. “You don’t even cast a shadow when you go ghost”
You chuckle at his question, “Well in an ironic twist of epic proportions, it turns out I can only avoid visible light rays, UV rays on the other hand, not so much, and they’re the ones that really love to burn ya.”
“Ahh, gotcha. And that’s why you’re redder than Stark’s suit?”
Your mouth drops open in mock offense “Hey! I’m the only one in this tower who’s allowed to make ridiculous comparisons about my new stop sign-ish hue!”
Steve laughs heartily as he moves his hands lower on your back, you move to support yourself on the sink yet again.
Mercifully, the conversation between you and Steve flows easily this time around, allowing you both to feel relaxed as Steve works his hands all over your burnt body. As the two of you talk, Steve massages aloe into your arms, belly, and chest (and even though he doesn’t hesitate like he did last time, a silence falls over the two of you as his hands smooth aloe onto your supple flesh). The combination of his strong hands and soothing aloe feels almost blissful, and if you didn’t know any better you would guess by his expression that Steve’s enjoying this too.
Over the next week this becomes your routine; and it gets easier and easier each time, more and more comfortable, more and more...dare you say...enjoyable?
Every night after dinner the two of you head to your room and chat while you run through copious amounts of aloe vera. This is the first time you guys have ever hung out on your own, and as it turns out, Cap’s hilarious, and not nearly as uptight as you thought him to be. To be fair, you really only knew Captain Rogers before, in all his responsible patriotic glory, but now you were getting to know Steve: the funny, kind-hearted guy from Brooklyn. The two of you seem to have a natural rhythm and chemistry, and it’s addicting for you. Sure, you’re tight with Sam and Nat, but spending time with Steve always manages to lift your spirits, and it almost makes you wish you hadn’t kept things so strictly professional between the two of you for so long-- almost.
As the week rolls along, your skin starts to look less and less like it’s on fire, and while you’re grateful to no longer look like Bob the tomato, there’s a pit in your stomach every time you think about your new routine with Steve coming to an end. You can’t shake the feeling, the little twinge of- what is it you’re feeling exactly? Sadness? Loneliness? Oh god, yearning? Whatever it is, you try to push the feeling in your gut away, besides it’s not like you’re never going to see him again- you live and work in the same building for pete’s sake. And as an added bonus, you and Steve have taken to hanging out together almost constantly when neither of you are working; how Steve always manages to find you when you’re on break is a mystery to you, but you’re certainly not about to complain.
Come Saturday night, there’s 3 empty aloe bottles stacked up in your garbage can, a fourth bottle stands half-empty on your bathroom sink. At eight o’clock on the nose, you and Steve stroll into your room, playfully arguing about Steve’s cooking abilities (or more accurately- lack thereof).
“Dude, all I’m saying is no one would complain if you decided to let someone else cook the team dinner when it’s your turn. In fact, they’d probably be grateful.” You flash a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the annoyed super soldier as you step into your room.
“Oh come on, (Y/N) I’m not that bad of a cook.” You turn towards Steve and scrunch up your face, playing up a pained, pitiful expression as he closes the door behind him.
His expression drops a little, “Is it really that bad?”
You think for a moment, “No, well, yes- but nowhere near as bad as Vision’s cooking... if you can even call it that.” Steve chuckles a little and you shrug, “You just need to learn how to season your ingredients and not, ya know, boil everything.”
Steve shakes his head and reaches his hand up behind his neck, “I’m tryin, (Y/N)”
“I could help you if you want.” Steve smiles at your proposition. You reach your hands down to the hem of your black t-shirt and pull the close-fitting fabric over your head, revealing a black push-up bra.
“That’d b-be.... Great......” Steve’s response trails off as his eyes take in the picture before him. Now that your sunburn was more or less gone, you were able to wear your regular tops and bras without feeling like your shoulders were being constantly scolded with a hot iron. And while you don’t really feel like there’s much of a difference between being seen in a sports-bra and your regular bra, the look on Steve’s face is painting a rather different picture. His eyes are glued to you as you haphazardly toss your shirt onto the bed, but you hardly notice as you start towards the bathroom.
“Ready?” You smile at Steve, and his gaze shoots back up to your face, he gives you a quick nod and bites his lip slightly.
You study your reflection in the bathroom mirror as Steve steps in behind you, you turn to the side slightly so you can admire how your ass looks in the jeans you’re wearing since you haven’t worn them for a while. You catch Steve also looking at your ass in the mirror and raise your eyebrow playfully at him- you don’t really mind, he’d been stealing glances at you all week. Boys will be boys you figure.
“Ya know, I think this may be the last time we need to do this-”
You see Steve’s expression drop slightly and you feel that familiar twinge in your gut again. Shh, cállate (shut up). You clear your throat, and try to push away the feeling.
“I mean, my blisters are gone, I don’t feel like a human fireball, and I definitely won’t cut it as a Mr. Krab’s double anymore.”
You laugh to yourself as Steve tilts his head to the side and throws you a questioning look in the mirror. You sigh, “honestly even if you were the age you look you still probably wouldn’t have gotten that reference.”
You both laugh as Steve reaches for the bottle of aloe.
“Oh well that’s a relief then, one less thing that I have to catch up on.”
Steve squeezes some aloe into his hands and starts in on your neck and shoulders. He massages you with an intensity you haven’t felt before; it’s absolutely heavenly. You press your hands into the sink counter again. Steve’s strong hands really work into you as they move down your back, and you try to hold back the moan threatening to work its way out of your throat.
“God, Steve that feels amazing....” you sigh out. The sentence hangs in the air around you for what feels like eternity before you realize how goddamn sexual it sounds. You clear your throat quickly and add “...Ever considered becoming a full time masseuse?” You look down, becoming suddenly interested in the marble countertop. You dare not lift your eyes up to meet Steve’s after what just came out of your mouth. You feel a heat rising in your cheeks and a tension building in your stomach, pero ¿qué demonios te pasa, (Y/N)? (what the heck is happening to you?)
Steve steps closer to you, and you can feel him press up against your butt. You bite your lip as you notice your breathing has picked up.
Steve traces his hands up your back to your shoulders. He gently places his finger under your bra strap, and slides it slowly down your shoulder. You’re expecting to feel his strong hands massaging in more aloe, but instead you feel the softest, most supple lips press into your shoulder. You inhale suddenly and look up to catch his gaze in the mirror. His bright blue eyes burn into you as he slowly kisses his way up to your neck. You bite your lip and close your eyes. His kisses grow stronger and more passionate when you tilt your head to the side to give him better access.
Steve’s massive arms close around your waist and pull you close to his chest, you reach up and card your fingers through his blonde hair as his lips reach your jawline. You let out the moan you’ve been holding in and let yourself melt into his touch.
Suddenly, Steve spins you around, you take in his features: his lips pink and swollen, his hair messy, his eyes hungry with lust-blown pupils. You look at each other for a moment, breathless. Finally you put your hands on the sides of his face to pull him down to you, and just as you do his arms around your waist pull you up towards him. Your lips meet in a passionate, almost frantic kiss as you pull yourself closer and closer to each other. His tongue slides over your bottom lip and you open your mouth and press into him to deepen the kiss. Steve moans, and the sound sends tingles through your entire being. Your hands stay on the back of Steve’s head, playing with his hair, trying to pull him even closer to you despite that being physically impossible at this point. Steve’s hands, meanwhile, run down your back and land on your plump ass. He squeezes firmly, causing you to giggle and moan into his mouth. He squeezes again and you moan on cue, causing a deep chuckle to emit from Steve’s chest. Este chico me va a volver loca (this boy’s gonna drive me crazy).
Next thing you know, Steve is pulling you up and putting you on the bathroom counter; you open your legs to let him closer to you, knocking the half-empty aloe bottle into the garbage along with the others. Your mind is a blur: lips, and hands, hands everywhere, and Steve, his lips on your lips, his lips on your jaw, his lips running down your neck. You reach out to blindly find the hem of Steve’s shirt, Steve’s lips lift from your skin just long enough for you to pull it over his head, revealing his frankly ridiculous body. In an instant he’s brought his lips to your neck again, not wanting to missing a beat. His lips work into your skin like he’s desperate for more, his hands never stop pulling you closer towards him, he pushes up against the heat building in your core and you can feel his growing hard-on. You moan at the sensation and wrap your legs around his waist, pushing your core closer to him.
Steve rolls his hips against you and an almost embarrassingly high-pitched whine leaves your mouth, but you don’t care, how could you when Steve is about to drive you absolutely mad?
Steve kisses down from your neck into the valley of your breasts, and as he does you unclasp your bra and let it slide down your arms. Steve pulls back, his eyes wide with shock and awe as your toss your bra to the side and rest your hands back up on his shoulders. He breathes heavily as he takes in the sight before him.
“You are so beautiful, (Y/N).”
You smile and bite your lip, just then Steve plunges towards you and pulls your breast into his mouth, sucking at your nipple and biting it gently. He takes your other breast into his hand and massages it roughly; you don’t know how much more you can take before you explode, the passion and ecstasy are almost too much to bare.
Between gasps for air you manage to moan, “Oh god, Steve. Steve I-I need you.”
Without skipping a beat, your legs still wrapped around him, Steve picks you up by your waist and carries you to the bed, plopping you onto it. He stands up to take off his pants and you scramble to remove yours. Now completely bare, Steve crawls over to you on the bed and hovers above you, you pull him into another passionate kiss and feel the weight of his naked body press against you.
Steve parts from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, his lips now just ghosting above yours, he sighs and smiles,
“I’ve been dreaming of this for weeks.” You crook and eyebrow at him and drag your lower lip between your teeth.
“Just this?” You roll your hips up into his to tease him, and you could almost swear it looks like he’s about to fall apart. He whimpers at your teasing and then immediately dives back into a passionate kiss. Your lips move against each other in perfect, passionate rhythm, so much for keeping things professional.
Steve breaks away from the kiss again and you start to whine at his absence until you feel his mouth licking circle around your nipple again. You drag your hands through his hair as he continues his path downwards. Finally, after licking his way down your belly and inner thigh, he pushes his mouth against your clit and roughly sucks and licks at it.
“¡Ay! ¡Capitán!” you scream as a wave of pleasure overcomes you. You can feel Steve smile at the reaction he’s getting; he knows your Spanish is only reserved for the most intense moments, and this one was definitely a chart-topper.
You roll your hips up towards his mouth, desperate for more, but instead of giving you what you need, he pulls back and grins wickedly up at you.
“Paciencia, señorita.”
You raise an eyebrow at him and huff out a laugh. Before you have time to retort Steve’s already dived back in, and you scream out:
Ghost in the Sun Pt. 1 (Steve Rogers x Enhanced Reader)
Summary: Just because you can make yourself invisible doesn’t mean you can keep yourself from getting a nasty sunburn, and after a grueling mission in the Moroccan desert that’s exactly what’s happened. Luckily Steve is more than willing to help you put aloe on those hard-to-reach places once you get back.
A/N: This was originally supposed to be some post mission fluff, but I started writing about the mission itself and couldn’t stop (I love me some ass-kickin, what can I say). Parts 2-4 coming soon! BTW this is my first ever fanfic- so feedback would be A++, thanks.
Words: 2,556
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood
You weaved your way through the crowded medina, keeping a close eye on the target you’d been tracking for the past week. He was about 10 meters ahead of you and moving through the crowd quickly. The marketplace was packed with vendors peddling spices, livestock, brightly colored fabrics, pretty much anything you’d expect to find in a Moroccan “suk,” and as much as you’d have loved to take in the sights and brush up on your Arabic with some locals, you were on mission, and your target was doing an annoyingly good job at using the most crowded areas of the market to his advantage- dude had clearly been trained on how to lose a tail.
After the deal that had just gone down you weren’t surprised your target assumed he was being followed: three female hostages in exchange for a semi full of RPG’s, grenades, and more guns than honestly should exist in one place at a time. As worrisome as the arsenal was, it wasn’t the reason that your target had gotten on the Avengers’ radar or why you were now trailing him; it was the hostages. The Avengers had been tasked with finding them and bringing them home safely, and as soon as one of Nat’s contacts got wind of the trade, Steve sent you in to do what you did best: trail, observe, and stay out of sight.
The target ducked out of the market, took a few quick turns through the alleys of the medina and chuckled to himself as he cast a glance over his shoulder. Only locals knew how to navigate the maze of the old city; he’d officially eluded anyone trying to follow him, or so he thought. You sighed to yourself as you brought your finger to your ear “He’s separated from the crowd, do you have eyes on him up top?”
“He went underground, sorry (Y/N), Redwing’s blind up here” Sam voice buzzed in your ear.
Cap cut in, sounding slightly annoyed “A good portion of the medina is made up of tunnels under buildings, we knew this was a possibility”
“S’all good guys, I got this” you retorted with a smile, to be honest you were kind of hoping it would come to this, it was your favorite part of the job. “Initiate radio silence: I’m going ghost.” You quickly threw off the scarf you’d been wearing and disappeared- literally disappeared.
It was an ability you’d had for years and used for all sorts of dubious activities as a teenager, but things only got more extreme after you’d gotten caught up in working for a Mexican cartel. It was a long story, and not one you were particularly proud of, but let’s just say it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to figure out why a drug cartel would hire/kidnap someone who could make herself invisible. You liked to call it your “Spring break gone wrong,” but Clint preferred “you evaded the authorities for like 3 years and then I nearly shot you.” (“eh, tomato tomahto” you’d say).
Now completely invisible- thanks to the specially designed clothes Tony had engineered for you- you took off running through the red clay alleys of the old medina to catch up to your target, he couldn’t have gotten far, and Redwing had been able to track his path until he’d entered a tunnel so you knew you’d have no problem catching up to him.
Everybody on the team knew the drill: you’d track your target in silence until he unwittingly led you to his hostages, at which point you’d take him out and call for backup. This was your specialty, you were a master tracker and covert tail, all you needed was: 1. radio silence to ensure that your target (or anyone else for that matter) didn’t hear you or the transmission being made, and 2. to not draw attention to your position by making any noise or disrupting the environment around you (you’d more or less mastered not kicking up stones, but fallen leaves were still a serious pain in your ass).
All the team had to do now was stay out of your way and wait in the jet for your signal.
Steve swiped anxiously at the screens in the jet and bit his lip in thought. He turned to face his team “Remember, any interference from us could give away (Y/N)’s position and compromise her mission.”
“Is that reminder for us or for you, Cap?” Sam smirked as he plopped down on one of the seats in the jet.
“Yeah, if I remember correctly it was you who insisted last time that we go in and rescue (Y/N) and you who instead blew her cover and nearly got her killed” Nat chimed in.
Steve frowned at his teammates “We hadn’t heard from her in 12 hours!” Steve raised his arms into the air as he tried to defend himself, but it was no use, he knew they were right.
“Dude.” Sam tilted his head down slightly and gave him a knowing look.
Steve let out a huff “Alright alright, fine.” he sighed again, “I just get anxious waiting around for her. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.” He looked back at the monitor which was tracking her position and swiped at it to zoom in. “Where is this guy going anyway?”
You had begun to ask yourself the same thing; your target had taken you through the heart of the old city, up and out past the newer, more modernized part of town, through the residential area and towards the slum that marked the southern edge of the city and the beginning of the desert. He’d been traveling on foot for about 2 hours, which was odd, usually for a journey this long most people would find a car or bike or something, but the target continued walking until he reached the last row of shacks in the slum. He entered the alleyway between the last two houses and pulled at a tarp to reveal a dusty ATV.
Mierda (shit), you thought to yourself
He got on the ATV and revved the engine, you looked around desperately for another vehicle, but as he turned and drove out into the rocky terrain of the desert you knew that that wasn’t an option cause it would give away your position. You quickly drew out your gun and screwed on the silencer. “Shit shit come onnnn” Finally once the silencer was in place you took aim at the ATV and fired. ¡Toma! (take that!) The back right tire immediately deflated and the ATV crawled to a halt. You crouched and watched as your target angrily jumped off of the ATV and raised his weapon in your general direction- expecting to see whoever it was who had just sabotaged him. His eyes desperately searched among the shacks and rubbish, but he found nothing. You smiled to yourself, pinche pendejo (fuckin’ dumbass). You couldn’t help but get a little bit cocky every time something like this happened, you also couldn’t help from slipping into Spanish. To be fair you’d honed most of your skills working for the cartel, so no one could blame you for either habit, as they kind of came with the territory.
Your target turned and looked at the tire again, noting that it hadn’t exploded, but just deflated. He kicked it out of frustration, as he muttered something about it being a “worn out piece of shit.” The target grabbed a pack from the now useless ATV and took off walking in the direction he was originally headed. Before heading out, you took in the terrain: rocky, wide open desert; a few grass plants here and there, but nothing substantial to provide cover. Further out (maybe 4-5 miles if you had to guess) there were some small foothills that turned into mountains, and in all likelihood that was where your target was headed. You decided to give him a wide berth, given that there was literally no cover out here, you’d have to keep your distance in order to remain undiscovered.
You’d been following your target through the desert for nearly 3 hours now, and you had just begun to ascend the trail that you presumed would take you into the mountains, and while you were grateful for the small bottle of water you had on you, it wasn’t nearly enough for a trek like this. The rocky trail zig-zagged up the steep mountain side, and you had to be careful to not kick any stones as you worked your way quietly up the path. Staying about 50 meters behind your target, you continued to push forward, but the heat and rigor of the hike were starting to wear on you. Suddenly the target stopped and turned around, his eyes narrowed, hand hovering about his holstered weapon, you froze.
“Hello?” he called out in Arabic. He took a few steps downhill towards you, his eyes still searching for what he could not see, but had apparently heard. “I know there is someone here, I can hear your footsteps.” He continued to slowly make his way down hill, drawing his weapon as he did; you lowered yourself into a kneeling position, preparing yourself in case he decided to shoot (a trick you’d learned pretty early on: people don’t generally shoot at the ground when they’re aiming for a person they can’t see). You watched as the man got closer and closer to you; there were a few ways you could play this, depending on what he did, but your best bet was to stay absolutely silent- no movement, limited breathing even- and wait for your target to slowly convince himself that he had heard nothing, that the heat was starting to get to him and he had imagined it. In reality that was your only option that didn’t involve completely blowing your cover, so you were really hoping that there’d be no need for plan B.
You knelt on the side of the path as your target continued to call out to the air, he was just about level with you now, and any noise from you would be easily detected. With a painfully slow and careful pace, you reached your right hand down to the ground and picked up a small stone, as soon as your target walked past you down the hill, you chucked the stone up the path to where he had been standing when he first stopped. The stone collided with a crash onto the other rocks, and your target turned on his heel and fired a shot at the source of the noise. You held your breath and waited to see if he would take the bait. After what felt like an eternity, he made his way back up the hill to investigate where he had shot. You breathed out shakily.
He reached out to blindly feel for a body, (you would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked had it not been for the adrenaline currently coursing through your veins and the life or death situation at hand) but upon finding nothing he straightened up and shook his head slightly. He looked around one last time and then continued up the path. You let out a quiet sigh of relief and stayed where you were for a moment. Now that he had been spooked you really had to be careful to keep your distance and keep silent.
You also had to hope that Cap would actually maintain radio silence this time.
After waiting a moment you rose from your position and continued to quietly make your way up the path. You had lost sight of your target but you knew he was far enough ahead of you on the path that once you rounded the next corner you’d have a clear view of him.
As you worked your way up and around the next turn you felt something tug at your toe. You looked down. Is that a fuckin trip wire? Your eyes widen but before you can process what’s happening you’re brought to the ground with a thud. Ese hijo de puta (that son of a bitch) had been waiting on the next level up of the path, and as soon as he saw the trip wire move he pounced. You maintain your invisibility and throw your arms up in front of your face to start defending yourself as he straddles your torso. The assailant pulls two six inch blades from their holsters and stabs and swipes blindly at you. He leaves cuts on your arms, and even manages to stab you in the shoulder as you struggle to deflect his attacks and wriggle free. The assailant yelps out an almost insane laugh as he sees red streaks and drips of blood appear out of the nothingness he’s fighting. You finally manage to roll over onto your stomach and push yourself up with you arms and legs, lifting him up with you. He slashes a long gash into your back as you buck him off of you and stand up straight, grabbing your own knife to defend yourself. Having lost track of where you are, el cabrón (the asshole) lunges forward, knife-first towards you, you easily avoid the attack, grab his arm and force one of his blades from his grasp so you can chuck it down the mountain. He slices at you with his remaining knife, this time leaving a long gash down the front of your torso. You separate yourself from him to give yourself some distance and regain the advantage. He lunges blindly towards you again, this time you move around behind him and kick him in the back so he falls down the path, he loses his grip on his other knife and it falls over the cliff side. He turns back to you with a rage in his eyes, he pulls out his gun and desperately starts searching for any sign of you. You’re about to take out your gun when you remember the mission and exactly what’s at stake. You still needed to find those three hostages, and they could be anywhere in these mountains. If you were to take out your target now, your mission would be a failure. You needed to let him win, or at the very least make him think he’d won if you ever want to find those hostages.
Your attacker’s face drops into a sinister smile, the blood from your wounds had given him a nice little “x marks the spot”- you’d been made. He empties his clip in your direction, you drop to the ground with a thud, roll to the edge of the path and let gravity do the rest as you fall over sharp rocks down to the next level of the zig-zagged trail. You let out a loud moan and try to curl as close to the mountain side as you can when as he leans over the edge to see the results of his work. He reloads his gun and fires three more shots down towards where you’ve landed and waits. He sees a small pool of blood forming and sighs with relief. Just as he’s about to turn to continue moving uphill he stops himself and spits down towards you, muttering “serves you right, demon.”
