#marveldiversitychallenge

[avintagekiss24]

SIGN ON THE LINE || STEVE ROGERS

PRETTY WOMAN AU

pairing: Escort!Steve Rogers x bisexual!black!reader ; minor pairing: escort! steve rogers x bisexual!black!reader x bisexual!natasha romanov || word count: 14,446 || warnings: smut, sex, rough sex, ass eating, butt stuff, oral sex (male & female receiving), rough oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, face sitting/riding, 69, cockwarming, nipple play, consensual voyeurism, prostitution, daddy kink

authors note: right under the buzzer! this is for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ marvel diversity challenge! my prompt was Pretty Woman AU. this is a pretty loose interpretation of the movie, but there are some similarities threaded throughout if you’re familiar with it. once again, a lot was inspired by @honeychicanawrites​ headcanons here, here, and here. there was also a black and white gif floating around of an animated woman, rubbing, sucking, and fucking her dude, but i lost the link! (i was gonna embed it, but i don’t want my post flagged). also, daily convos with @tropicalcap​ led to some of the filth. enjoy!

line divider by @firefly-graphics​

The wine glass clinks against the porcelain of the bathroom counter as you set it down gently, backing up to eye yourself in the mirror. You push your box braids off your shoulders and twist your body, smoothing your manicured hands down your hips as you primp. Sliding your fingers underneath the thin band of your thong, you adjust it slightly, pulling them up on your hips before letting the material snap back to your body, cutting into your flesh. The Zodiac tights come next, wiggling your hips to pull the crystal embedded fishnets up your smooth legs and up over your behind.

You dig your hands into your bra, pushing your tits up so they sit a little higher in it and pucker your lips, adding a little more gloss. A deep buzz sounds throughout the bathroom, your phone illuminating as a text slides through.

In the lobby

A smile spreads across your face. You grab the fluffy, white hotel robe and shrug into it, tying a tight bow at your waist before arranging your hair again and bringing the glass of white wine to your lips to finish it off. The small bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 is the last accessory you reach for— spritzing your neck and wrist, rubbing them together slowly to spread the sweet, floral aroma. Grabbing your phone, and the now empty wine glass, you move out of the bathroom and hit the light switch to cover the lavish room in darkness.

You’re wet already— tight muscles clamping around nothing as you pad back into your Presidential suite. Blood starts to race, skin heats up as your heart beat grows harder. You’re so fucking horny it hurts. Stomach is tight and knotted, your clit achy and sore— fingers not enough to quell the need. So you went out one night, found a sex shop, which isnt hard in the heart of L.A.; bought a pretty glass dildo and a diamond studed butt plug— even a pocket vibrator, but it wasn’t enough. You need the real thing, a big, hard, dripping, warm cock to put you out of your misery so you can focus on the reason you’re in L.A. in the first place.

“Oh girl,” Natasha winked, handing over an off white business card, “Having dick on retainer is a must.”

You flipped it over in your hand, your dark eyes skimming over the telephone number printed in the middle of the card, the initials S.G.R. scrawled out just underneath it, “Give him a call,” she winked, “He’ll keep you plenty occupied while you’re here.”

That was two days ago— over a business lunch when the VP of Operations and CEO of the company you’re trying to acquire stepped away from the table. You’d known Natasha Romanov for exactly one week at that point, but she knew the desperation of a woman going without— you're convinced she smelled it on you as soon as you walked into her office. It took her a few days to pry it out of you, but once she caught you discreetly making eyes at the waiter, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you in close.

You’re a woman of the world, you both realize and understand sex work is a valuable commodity, and champion it, for men and women alike. But you never honestly had to give it a second thought, you’ve always had options. A cute little black book that sits just inside of your nightstand, full of names that can satisfy your every mood.

Tony for a quickie when you’re buzzed and on the way to an event, Sam for a back breaking, fingers in your mouth, ‘call me daddy’ romp, sweet Bruce when you want it real nice and slow— somebody to love you just for the night. That little black book doesn’t help you in L.A., and you aren’t about to fly somebody out for a four hour layover.

There’s a rap at the door, three quick knocks, “Just one second.” you call sweetly, slipping into a pair of Giuseppe heels— your favorite Giuseppe heels.

You untie the belt around your waist and throw the robe over the back of the couch as you click towards the door, leaving you in your black, strapless bra, thin thong, and waist high tights. There’s really no need to be modest— you’re both adults. Turning the square, stainless steel door handle, you pull gently, throwing it open for the tall, blonde man leaning against the far wall. He stands up straight, blue eyes going wide as they drop down your body, pink lips quirking into a lopsided grin.

You spin on your heels and retreat back into the room slowly, hearing the door as it hitches when he catches it with his palm. Eyes are on your body as you switch your hips seductively, moving towards the minibar. You can’t help the smile that curls onto your lips.

“Would you like a drink, Mr. Rogers?” You purr, voice low and smooth.

“Steve’s fine,” his voice equally low, equally smooth, “What do you have?”

You hum, opening the small fridge and bending just slightly, poking out your ass, “Looks like Modelo, Vodka, Rum,” you point towards the ice bucket, a bottle of Dom Perignon resting in the chips, “Champagne. I also have some white wine.”

You glance back at him, your braids dangling over your shoulder, swinging gently with each little movement you make. Steven Grant Rogers is a sight for sore eyes— and a sore pussy. He’s tall and lean, chest and shoulders wide and broad, biceps thick. His waist is small, but it adds a little allure to his frame, giving him a little shape. He has a sense of style about him too, another tick in the ‘pro’ column for him. His suit is a simple one but it reeks of great expense. Black, slim fit, no tie. Crisp, white button down with the first couple of buttons undone. Black red bottoms, and a titanium, black faced Hublot watch.

Creed Aventus fills your nostrils as you breathe in and your muscles clench again. You like a man with lavish taste.

“Champagne, please. Not too much though, I don’t like to drink when I’m with a client.” Curious eyes follow you as you move towards the ice bucket, staying on you as you pour two flutes, “I don’t want any misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

His thick fingers brush along yours as you step close, handing him the tall, thin flute. They’re soft, his fingers. He nods gently, clinking the rim of his glass with yours before he lifts it to his pink lips, licking them slowly, “Gotta keep a clear head.”

A sharp inhale of air fills your lungs; a sly smile tugs at your lips. Through hooded eyes, the two of you keep watch of the other as you both down the bubbly champagne. Your lips tingle as you rub the glass along your bottom lip, your eyes bouncing around his handsome, heavily bearded face. His eyes twinkle underneath the lights as they roam— down your chest and stomach, down your long legs— slowly. Drinking you in. Taking stock of each curve, each dip, each line.

His eyes snap back to yours suddenly, but they’re different. Hungry. Aggressive. You take another breath, holding it in your chest for a tick before you exhale and cross your legs, squeezing them tight.

He takes a step forward, closing the already small distance between the two of you to a mere inch, maybe even less than that. He drops his eyes again, his eyelids closing to slits, the dark, delicate, long eyelashes lining them splash out on his cheeks. He inhales deep, a small, thin hum vibrating in his throat as he’s filled with the sweetness of your perfume.

“Nervous?”

The word greets your ears softly, just as it left his pretty mouth. You lick your bottom lip and pull it between your teeth, chewing as your eyes bounce between his. He smiles, pushing his face closer so the tips of your noses touch. He rubs your noses together slowly, up along your bridge, and then the tips again, his smile growing.

“There’s no need to be nervous. We’ll take it real nice and slow, okay?” his voice steady and smooth, low and soft, “You’ve never done this before?”

Two mammoth hands push along your hips, slowly dragging up and down, up and down, up and down. You swallow, a pathetic tremble sounding in your throat that gets him to smile again, “It’s that obvious?”

He chuckles, “It’s okay, honey.” he answers, hands pushing over your ass, “I’ll get you warmed up.”

He squeezes your behind; you inhale again, your hands settling on his chest. Your body is moving, swaying gently back and forth at his insistence, his hands pushing up to the small of your back. Blue eyes stay on deep browns as his warm palm settles in the center of your back, holding you in his orbit. You start to rub his chest, feeling the bulk, the muscles of him— the thick. Your index finger drifts; drifts towards the open buttons of his shirt, playing with them; eyes settling on the sliver of skin and dark hair showing through.

A knuckle pushes just underneath your chin, pressing, pressing, pressing until your head, more importantly your mouth, is tilted up to his. Your eyelids instantly— instinctively— droop, lips part in wait, in want; in need. Hooded blue eyes gaze back at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“May I?”

Shudders ripple down your spine as reddened lips brush along yours, “Please.” It’s desperate— the way you ask.

Steve licks into you with his tongue, groaning a little when he sucks your top lip into his mouth. He pulls you in, right up against his hard body, your hands sliding over his shoulders and wrapping around his neck. This mouth is skilled— tongue slipping along your bottom lip and caressing your own. Not too rough, not too gentle, just enough to make you melt into him; to make you go a little limp in his arms.

He nibbles on your bottom lip, pulling softly until he lets go, letting it snap back to your face. A giggle bubbles up, filling the air surrounding you and you swear you feel his dick twitch.

“Feel better?”

You smile sweetly, pulling out of his grasp and sauntering towards your abandoned phone. Tapping into the short text stream with him, you snap your eyes back to him when his phone chimes seconds later. You watch as he digs it out of his pocket and another grin cracks his face as his cash app alerts him to the fifteen hundred deposited into his account.

“Does that answer your question?”

Those pretty white teeth of his dig into his bottom lip, trying and failing to hide the grin that’s been brought upon by your quick wit. He pulls his jacket off of his shoulders, tossing it over the back of the couch before ticking his head towards the bedroom, “Bed please.”

You do not hesitate. You pass by each other as you move towards the bedroom, him towards the ice bucket, plucking it from the table in the center of the room and turning on his heel to follow you. You toss your eyes over your shoulder as you flounce, hips switching again, heels clink, clink, clinking against the marble floor.

The lights of the bedroom rise automatically from the sudden motion in the room. You feel weightless as you fall onto the mattress hands first, crawling into the center of the king bed. His footsteps continue to sound as he enters behind you, setting the champagne bucket at the end of the bed as you prop against the headboard, drawing your legs up, swaying them back and forth slowly.

Steve keeps his eyes on you as he starts to pull on his cufflinks, unclipping the double knotted, sterling silver Tiffany & Co. accessories to free his arms. He rolls his sleeves up his forearms, revealing hair and thick veins— more flexing muscles. Blue eyes bounce between the task at hand and you, that soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips never wavering, never leaving. Foreplay at its best.

Once his forearms are free of the constricting material around them, he grabs the champagne bottle by the neck and plucks out a crystal flute, dropping his eyes from yours as he pours another glass. He moves around the side of the bed, champagne bottle in hand as he sits next to you, handing over the full glass. Lifting it to your lips, you snap your eyes to him when he tuts quickly, wagging that thick index finger back and forth.

Your mouth drops open, eyes go large as you watch him take a swig, right from the bottle. He then leans over you, pushing his index finger into your chin again, tilting your head up towards his. Warm, pink lips crowd your open mouth, his eyes closing gently, the cool, bubbly liquid slipping from his mouth right into yours. You sound— sweet, tiny, pitiful— as you swallow his offering, him kissing you quick after, not giving you time to reel from the intimacy of it.

He’s gone again, just as quickly as he came, heading back to the end of the bed. He knees onto the edge, large palms sliding over your bent knees, fingertips slipping down your calves, gripping and groping as they go. He drops one hand— right to his pants— sends his eyes back to yours as he pops the shiny button and unzips them at a snail's pace. Steve lets his pants hang open as he slides his hands down your thighs, all the way down to the juncture of your hips and legs, pushing his thumbs into the creases.

Steve pushes forward, forcing your legs open as he settles in, resting that hard, lean, strapping body on yours— kissing you again. Deep this time. Bruising. Tongue kneading yours, smacking and sucking your lips into his wet mouth. Moans, both his and yours, thrum and vibrate in your chests and throats. Your muscles clench again.

Lips and mouth are on the move— down your chin, nuzzling into the soft, sensitive crook of your neck. He licks, slow, before sucking the skin, finding that one little pesky spot that makes your hips jut up into his quick. He’s hard, and that makes you whimper again. You hold the champagne flute up high in your right hand, trying not to spill the contents as your hips start to roll, free hand wrapping around and digging into his thick bicep— but you aren’t so lucky. A few drops dribble from the glass and onto your chest, slipping down between your cleavage.

You shiver when his hot tongue slides between your tits to collect the cold droplets, his hands prying the silk material of your bra down. There’s a sound, a grunt, that cultivates deep in his throat at the sight of you, bare and wanton— nipples thick and perky. He slips his hands behind your back to unhook your bra, tossing it without a care to the floor once you’re free.

He inhales sharp, a hiss slipping through his teeth, “Fuck, these are beautiful.”

Your back arches up into his hands as he grabs your tits, squeezing gently, him moaning all the while. He thumbs your nipples before taking one into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and swirling, teeth grabbing. Your body jerks up into him, hips and chest, mouth falls open before your face twists in pleasure. He gives your other breast the same attention— kissing, licking, sucking before he ventures on, his fingers digging underneath the thin band of your tights and pulling gently.

Reddened lips follow his fingers, down your waist, down your hips, down your thighs, calves, ankles, toes until you’re free of the sheer garment. You sip on the bubbly champagne as his hot tongue pushes up the inside of your calf. Sweet kisses are pressed against the subtle curve of your knee, blue eyes through long, dark eyelashes on yours the whole while. Deep, stormy eyes— the kind of eyes that make you wanna think they’re only for you; aroused by you and you alone.

He draws that red bottom lip between his teeth, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief as he nuzzles into your thigh. His fingers curl around the strings of your thong as his eyes dip quickly. You close your eyes and take another sip of your drink when he starts to pull, a soft smile of your own spreading on your face as he exposes you.

There’s fingers— suddenly. Softly. Rubbing. A low hum vibrating in his throat as he touches you. A soft moan slips from between your lips as your hips start to roll, meeting each pass of his digits. Your slick already; clit hypersensitive, almost pained from going so long without. His touch is experienced, slow and deliberate as he presses soft, warm kisses against your thigh, rubbing his bearded cheek against the delicate skin.

The tips of his fingers start to drift. Down, down, down, away from your nub and to your slit where he rubs— caresses— gently. Then they’re pushing, his fingers, index and middle, sinking into you deep, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

He smiles wide before pushing out a breath, “That’s a tight fit, honey baby.” he purrs before blowing softly onto your hot, wet cunt, “It’s been a while, huh?” his voice soft, fingers pumping slowly, “Yeah, it’s been a while. Look at you squeezing down on me, baby.”

Your body jerks when Steve presses his lips to your pussy. He hums as he kisses you again and again and again, before he flattens his tongue against your clit, rubbing gently. He sucks you into his mouth, his eyes closing, eyelashes spreading over his cheeks. Your thin fingers thread into his long, blonde hair, gripping and tugging as your hooded eyes watch his head bob left and right, up and down while he devours you.

Heat blooms in your chest and stomach as you take another sip of champagne and it settles in your belly. You rest your heavy head against the headboard, licking your lips as uncontrolled moans spill from your mouth. Another sharp gasp fills the room as a third finger slips into your eager body. You can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up in your chest, and the satisfied groan that follows.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?”

His voice is as smooth as silk, the deepness of it rattling your fragile bones, “This isn’t all that I wanted, but this is a good start, Mr. Rog—” you pant, words cut off as you lift your hips when he starts to hit that little spot, “Ah, fuck.”

“Mmmm,” he purrs again, “I know this isn’t all you wanted, greedy girl.” Greedy girl. Your cunt clenches at the words, “Oooh,” he smiles as sitting up a little when he feels you tighten, “You like that? Are you Daddy’s greedy girl?”

The champagne flute slips from your fingers, the liquid spilling over your chest and stomach, pooling in your belly button, “Uh oh,” he coos, slipping his tongue up your body, sucking up the spill with his lips as he goes, “Responsive little thing.”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you empty, causing a frustrated, childish grunt to rumble through your chest. Steve tuts at you again, although smiling all the while as he starts to work himself out of his shirt. You bite down into your bottom lip as you watch him, more and more of his buttery, tanned, smooth skin coming into view.

His chest is wide, thick with conditioned muscles. Dark hair is splashed across the pallet of his pecs, the little happy trail spreading out across his lower stomach. There’s a deep v carved into his hips— hard abs and biceps flex as he moves. His weight leaves the mattress as he stands and shoves his fingers into his pants, pushing them down sturdy, hairy thighs. Your eyes instantly fall to the dick print in his black Armani stretch boxer briefs. Fuck.

You slip your hand down your side, over your hip and right between your sticky folds, hissing gently as you start to rub yourself, impatient and needy.

“Good girl.” he praises, making your heart sing.

He drops his hand to his dick, squeezing himself as he smirks at you. What a fucking tease— but nonetheless, your pussy clenches around absolutely nothing from just the sight of him. Those fingers of his push underneath the stretchy band of his boxers and start to tug, slowly, slowly, slowly, exposing more and more of his wiry, dark hair and skin. You drag in a deep breath when his cock finally springs free, an impressive girth bouncing as the material pushes over it.

He steps out of his boxers and starts to stroke himself, long, slow drags of his hand up and down his shaft as he watches you dip your fingers into your pussy. You tilt your hips upward as you pump your fingers, the heel of your palm pressing against your clit. Your mouth falls open, your eyes flutter, air chokes up in your throat as you fuck yourself for him, enjoying his hungry eyes on all of you.

But when he’s had enough, he’s had enough. He falls onto his knees, his weight dipping into the mattress and inches towards you, pulling your hand away. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit, pushing through your folds, teasing your slit quickly before he slides his hands underneath your butt and pulls you down the bed. His fingers dance over your knees before he pushes them apart and your legs fall open, pussy on full display.

Steve falls over you, hands on either side of your head, as he leans downs and captures your lips again, kissing you sweetly. There’s a sharp taste on his lips and tongue— it's you. You lean into his kiss, deepening it with your tongue as you push your hips upward, shivering when the tip of his cock glances over your clit. Shivers wrack your body again, prompting him to laugh, “Okay greedy girl, okay.”

He pulls back, rolling his shoulders as he slips his fingers between your breasts. You reach for him too— raking your fingers down his chest and stomach as he starts to push at your opening. You grip his side, digging your nails into his thick skin as the head of his cock breaks into you. He slides, agonizingly slow, his long fingers wrapping around your throat as he disappears into you, his own mouth dropping open as you envelope him.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall as he pushes a breath out of his mouth, his grip around your neck tightening slightly, “You fit me like a glove, honey.”

You push your hips, urging him to move as you wrap your small hand around his wrist and push it up his long arm, stroking gently, “Come on, baby.” You murmur, using your head to push away from the mattress slightly.

“What’s that, honey?” he asks, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

You mewl, husky, hips still pushing up into his, “God— fuck me, Steve. Please.”

You push your hips down into the mattress, his dick drawing out of you just slightly. You thrust back up, pushing him back in, deep, before you pull back again— over and over and over. He watches the connection, watching himself disappear and then reappear as he squeezes your throat, a steady, gentle pressure. You keep a hold of his large wrist, gasping and whimpering as you fuck up onto him.

“That’s right, doll,” he whispers, “You fuck my dick, baby. I should be paying you, shouldn’t I?”

You roll your shoulders, moaning loud, “Please,” you beg— nearly cry, “Please, fuck me. Please!”

He thrusts into you hard— biting off the words in your throat. You squeak when he fucks into you again, your tits bouncing with the force.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, thrusting into you a third time, “Hmm? Is that what you want, honey?”

You nod quickly, your face breaking, a long, strangled noise spilling out of you as he pushes his hips into yours. He sets a bruising pace after the first teasing thrusts. Hard, fast pumps of his hips into yours, skin against skin, the sound bouncing off the walls. Wet, choked sounds squeak out from you as he keeps a hold of your throat, your small hands still wrapped around his wrist and forearm. You swallow hard, the pressure from his hand making it slightly difficult but the sheer power— or the restraint he shows despite his obvious strength— makes you want to melt into the mattress.

Steve leans down, licking into your mouth with his tongue as he fucks. He kisses you hard, releasing with a loud smack before he grabs your face and chin, squeezing your cheeks as he shakes your head back and forth gently, “Does that feel good, baby?” he taunts, his red, full lips brushing along yours, “Come on sweetness, don’t go all quiet on me now.”

“S’good,” you grunt, slamming your eyes closed, “Fu— ah! Fuck!”

“That’s right, girl. This is exactly what you needed.”

You’re hoisted up, right up into his lap, your legs curling around his sides. Not missing a beat, you start to bounce and rock freely, throwing your head back as you hang on to his broad shoulders. His large hand wraps around your throat again, but his fingers creep up over your chin, the tips pushing into your mouth. You hum as you suck on them, sucking the salt of your slick right off the pads of his fingers.

Your wet muscles squeak with each push of his cock. Quick, hot spurts of precum dribbling into you as his hips thrust to meet yours. His free hand grips your hips, hefty fingers pushing into your skin, helping you move. Your nipples brush along his chest, the gentle sensation sending flashes of heat and electricity through your body— shudders racing down your spine. The hand around your waist snakes up your back, his fingers playing with the ends of your braids.

He pulls gently, then backs off, mouth agape and eyes wide as they search your face, seemingly asking permission. He tugs again and you let him— your head falling back as your tongue pushes down the length of the index and middle fingers still shoved in your mouth. Your scalp prickles with pain as he pulls harder, craning your head back further, exposing your neck. A screech explodes from your lips when his pearly whites sink into the crook of your neck before he sucks hard, pulling blood to the surface.

Faltering hips, wet smacks, damp skin to damp skin— it’s all so filthy. So crude— but exactly what you’ve needed. His hands leave your hair, leave your mouth; one wraps around your throat and the other thumbs your nipple. He keeps his eyes on you as he hisses, his hips pushing, fingers tweaking, hand tightening to push you closer and closer towards a release. Your pitch heightens, your grunts and cries shaky and desperate as he eggs you on.

“You gonna come for me, sugar?” he asks sweetly, kissing you quick and hard, “It’s okay baby, you can let go. You’ve earned it, sweet girl. You’ve been such a good girl.”

A broken moan chokes in your throat. He ruts harder and faster, each thrust pushing deeper, touching that sweet, vulnerable spot until—

Red hot is the orgasm that ripples through you. You wail as it blooms across your flesh, your toes curling and fingers digging into his shoulders. He grabs your hips as you come, guiding you down onto his cock, and then helping you rock back and forth to drain every last drop of your release. His grip around your waist tightens, his own grunts growing louder before a burst of heat swells in your cunt.

Steve punctuates his spurts with deep, sharp thrusts, hissing and groaning with each one until he’s spent. He murmurs sweet nothings into your neck, hot breath sticking to your damp skin. Your limbs turn to liquid, your head fuzzy and warm as he guides you down to the mattress. He slips out of you, strings of silk following, trickling down your hot, trembly cunt. Sweet, soft lips press against your chest and stomach, over your hips and down your legs as large hands massage your thighs and calves.

A calm washes through you as your eyes grow heavy, your breaths getting deeper and longer as you melt into the soft mattress. You feel Steve moving around, crawling back up to where you are. A long arm slips over your stomach, pulls you close, right into his warm chest and stomach. His beard and lips brush over your temple and cheek, soft fingertips run up and down your arm, pretty epithets lulling you into a gentle sleep.

You’re just as sweet as sugar, honey baby. Such a good girl.

~~~

You roll your shoulders as you shift, eyes fluttering as you start to wake. It takes a few long seconds before your eyes adjust, the room lights having long since dimmed. The moon is high in the jet black sky as bright stars smatter across the canvas. You're still cocooned underneath a heavy arm and crushed against a burly chest, a soft smile spreading on your face as he snores gently.

3:12am flashes on the digital clock on the nightstand as you feel him roll away from you in his sleep, rolling over onto his side, exposing his wide back. Your fingers instantly glance over his smooth skin, skimming down his spine before they curl over his bicep. You should have been sated, but there’s another pull— deep in your belly; still eager, still wanting. Closing the distance between your bodies, you push your bare breasts into his back as you slide your hand underneath the sheets and down his chest and stomach.

You push up onto your elbow and thread your fingers into his dirty blonde hair as your other fingers brush over his soft cock. You wrap your small hand around him and stroke him gently, right from his stomach to the tip of his pretty dick, your palm sweeping over his cockhead and slit. Another smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as he stirs after a few minutes but doesn’t fully wake; just pushes his hips languidly into your hand.

His deep breathing soon turns shallow and choppy, soft moans scratching at the back of his throat but he never opens his eyes. Warm droplets of precum bubble from his slit and you brush the pads of your fingers over the wetness, dragging it back down his quickly hardening shaft. You rile him up, make his cock rigid and angry before you pull on his hip, rolling him over onto his back.

You throw your leg over his body and settle on top of him, ass up, lips mere inches from his hot sex. In one fell swoop, you follow your hand down his cock with your mouth, his hips jerking softly from the wet warmth surrounding him. Humming, you flatten your tongue along him, the tip tracing the thick vein that runs the length of his shaft. You bob your head up and down, sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip, teasing his slit as more drops of salt-sweet cum dribble on your tongue.

Steve’s hands slither up your thighs, grab your ass and squeeze as you suck him off, his hips jutting upward into your velvet mouth. Your mouth goes slack, your eyes fluttering when he slips two fingers into your wet cunt. He fingers you slow, his thumb pressing against your asshole as you start to writhe, rolling your hips against his hard abs to massage your clit.

You pull off of him, your hand still moving up and down, squeezing him as you pucker your lips— letting them gently brush against his cock. His hips rock up into your hand, his moans growing louder by the minute, deep gasps and sighs making his chest tighten underneath your body.

“Goddamn, baby,” his voice low and groggy from sleep.

Your muscles clench around his fingers as they delve and prod, his thumb pushing and circling your warm rim. A hot breath and a quick groan push out between your teeth, his dick jumping in your hand as the air tickles his skin. You swallow him again, taking every inch, relaxing your throat to accommodate him as you bury your face in the dark blonde hair at his groin.

Steve curls his fingers, lightly scratching at your insides, making you clamp down on them, squeezing them tight; holding them in.

Steve shifts underneath you, sucking in a sharp breath, “Get up here, baby. I wanna taste you.”

The sound of his voice rattles through you. His words still slurred with sleep, voice husky. You oblige, wanting his beard between your legs once more, sweeping along the inside of your thighs. You clamor up to him, straddling his face, your thighs closing in on either side of his head. Steve flattens his head on the pillow underneath him and opens his mouth, pushing his tongue out in anticipation of you.

You push your hips forward, rolling your cunt over his lips and tongue. Your head falls back, jaw goes slack as you start to ride his face, his tongue pushing through your sticky, puffy folds with ease. A wet noise fills the room— both his tongue and lips smacking and sucking on your messy flesh. Your hand finds his cock again, your fingers fondling his tip and that pulsing vein.

A chorus of whimpers and whines, quick gasps and deep growls roll through your chest as you grab his hair, pulling his face— if it’s possible— even closer to your cunt. Steve's face is flushed red in the moonlight. He balls the sheets in his hands as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you before he sucks your folds and clit into his mouth, his head shaking gently back and forth. He only releases you to drag in quick, wet breaths before closing back in on you, humming and moaning.

A soft burn spreads through your thighs as you canter your hips, using his chin and nose, along with his tongue and mouth to cop a feel. You’re close again, hips jerking with unexpectancy, your core also starting to burn as your body strains with its need.

Steve isn’t done with you yet. He rearranges you quickly, lifting you right off of him. Your knees sink into the mattress as he grabs your wrists and flattens your hands flat on the headboard.

He fucks into you from behind, not wasting a second in setting a brisk pace. He holds your hips in his hands, fingers digging into your skin as you drop your head, your braids swinging. Your tits bounce with his thrusts, your head knocking into the velvet headboard as you hold yourself up against it. Steve’s hips and balls slap against your ass as he gruffly pulls you back into him. A hand curls around your hip and travels up to your tits, grabbing your nipple between his index finger and thumb to tweak and pull and roll the thick nub.

You’re panting again, cursing and howling as your stomach tightens and your heart leaps, heat rippling through you. A quick sweat pops up on your brow, goosebumps prickle up along your body as your toes start to curl again. Steve’s hips are relentless, driving, driving, driving hard, his girth filling every inch that you have to offer. His fingers start to prod your asshole again, pushing gently against your rim as it constricts and relaxes.

It doesn’t take much. The soft pads of his fingers against your rim, and one, two, three more  strokes of his hips and you’re gone. Your mind going blank as your orgasm rushes. Steve fucks you right through it, dropping a hand to your clit as it jumps with the contractions of your cunt. He teases it— your clit— slapping and rubbing quick circles as your walls squeeze around him, finally coaxing him to come again.

You decide that you like the way it feels when he comes inside of you. His silk ribbons coating your squeaky muscles. You collapse against the mattress after your release washes through you. Steve falls beside you, rolling over onto his back and flattening his hand in the middle of his chest as he catches his breath.

“Gettin’ your money’s worth, huh?”

You dissolve into laughter, pushing your face into the blankets as you lay on your stomach, “I am a shrewd businesswoman, Mr. Rogers.”

“You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

~~~

“It’s a financial risk, for sure,” you reiterate, hands shoved into the pockets of your slim fit pants, your suit jacket open, “But I assure you, we can turn this company around. Carter & Danvers hasn’t had an acquisition fail in over thirty years. I will personally oversee this transition through— until it’s turning a profit.”

All eyes are on you in the boardroom as Hank Prym, CEO and pain in the ass that just won’t sign the goddamn contract, of Lang & Prym Inc. stares back at you, fingers threaded over his lips. For whatever reason, he doesn’t trust you or anything that you have to say, despite the fact that within six months— or less— his company will have to file bankruptcy. Natasha Romanov, CFO of Lang & Prym, sits to his left, green eyes sliding between his and yours. Her delicate fingers play with the pen between them, rolling it slowly as she tosses her short, red hair.

“Mr. Prym,” she starts, “We have to do something. We aren’t going to last much longer without their help. I crunched the numbers for you multiple times.”

He shakes his head slowly, his dark eyes glancing off towards the windows, “We have time, right?”

“We do,” Natasha nods, “But—“

“I’m not ready to sign yet. Not yet,” he stands, and everyone else placed around the table follows his lead. He moves around the table and up to where you are, extending his hand and shaking yours gently, “You’re good, but I’m just not ready yet.”

You smile softly, tapping the back of his hand with your free one, “That’s alright, this is tough, I realize that.”

“I’m glad they sent you instead of that Wade Wilson,” he chuckles, “How long are you in town for?”

“Indefinitely. Until you sign with us, Mr. Prym, I’m a Los Angelean.”

“Well,” he starts, taking a step towards the door, “Have Natasha show you around town. She knows this little taco place that’s to die for.”

You toss your eyes towards Natasha as she approaches and wink, “I’ll take her up on that. She’s already given me a tip or two about the lays of the land.”

You shake hands with the rest of the board members as they exit the room, finally leaving you and the smirking redhead alone. There may be a little underlying tension between you and her, you aren’t entirely sure yet, but you know that her eyes tend to linger on your frame just a tad longer than they should— not that you mind the extra attention, especially from someone as effortlessly attractive as she is.

Her arms are crossed over her chest as she sits on the edge of the mahogany table. A tight, black pencil skirt accentuates her shapely hips and long legs. A red satin blouse, unbuttoned strategically to show off her soft, pretty, full breasts.

“You’re looking a little more lively today.” Her silk smooth voice floats towards you, making you smile, “You gave my pal a call, eh?”

A devilish smile curls on your lips as you push your hands back into your pockets, “He was worth every fucking cent.”

“Glad to hear it.” She winks, and pushes away from the table, her manicured fingers reaching for your tie. She steps in close as she drags her hand down the length of the skinny tie, her big eyes following, “Maybe the three of us can get dinner sometime, hmm?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, “You just name the time and place, Ms. Romanov.”

She hums approvingly before smoothing down your tie and turning on her heel, clicking out of the boardroom with her file folders in hand.

You plop down in the chair behind your open laptop, exiting out of your powerpoint and bringing up your email. You work for a while, but your mind drifts, back to the night before, back to one Steve Rogers. Broad shoulders, smooth skin, sweet, pretty mouth… soon, the thoughts keep you from working. Soon, you’re leaning back in your chair, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as you sway gently back and forth.

You slide your phone out of your pocket and thumb through your messages, landing on his number. Tapping the screen, you stand and bring it to your ear as you take a few steps towards the windows, your eyes scanning over the city as the phone rings.

“Back so soon?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face as his warm voice fills your ears, “You make it hard to stay away, I must admit. How are you, I’m not disturbing you am I? I mean, you’re probably a busy man.”

He laughs, a warm, deep laugh and your body tightens “I do take breaks, you know.” You giggle, a sudden nervous energy filling you, which is strange. You usually have no problem asking for things you want, “Don’t get all shy on me now, girl.”

“God,” you scoff, tittering again, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Come on, I thought we were passed all this? Do I need to come over there and help you relax again?”

Muscles you weren’t even sure you had, clench tight, “Are you free tonight, Mr. Rogers?”

“You know, I like that. All that Mr. Rogers stuff,” You hear him moving around, then a deep exhale, “I wish I were, doll, but I’ve got a date. Dinner and a function.”

You click your tongue, your shoulders dropping as a quick flash of disappointment washes through you. It doesn’t last long, the disappointment— hell, you make deals for a living, “I’ll double whatever she’s paying you.”

“Oooh,” he purrs, “Jealous, baby?”

“Not jealous,” you point out, “I just don’t like to wait, and I don’t like to lose. It’s not in my nature.”

“That’s very flattering, but I can’t do that. I have a reputation in this city.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m sure you do.”

“I do! I can’t cancel on such short notice.”

“Then meet me for dessert.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs earnestly, “Listen, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

You cover your face with your hand, laughing again, “Oh my god,” you sigh, “Well, fuck. I’ll get with Natasha and see if she can recommend another option for the evening...”

You hear him shuffle through the phone again, another deep sigh pushing out of his nose. He’s quiet for a beat as you tap your index finger against the edge of your phone, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Let me get back to you a little later tonight, alright? You and Ms. Romanov behave over there.”

“I told you I was shrewd.”

“You sure did. Wait up for me, babe.”

You smile big, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “Will do.”

~~~

His knock sounds through the hotel room, making you tear your eyes from your laptop. You finish your email before pushing away from the small table and padding towards the door, your lace, burgundy kimono flailing with the air. You pull open the door and step to the side instinctively as Steve traipses through the threshold. You let it close with a soft click before you lean against it, crossing your legs and tilting your head as you find two crystal blue eyes on you.

The two of you blink at each other, eyes traveling over one anothers frames. He shrugs out of his black velvet jacket and tosses it over the back of the couch before he starts on his cufflinks. You watch in silence as he rolls up his sleeves, one by one, exposing his forearms just how you like— all veins and hair. His biceps bulge in the white button down, chest rippling underneath his black vest. He keeps flipping his eyes towards you, peeking through those lashes as he smiles.

He beckons you with his index finger and without hesitation, you’re moving towards him, pushing away from the door with your hands. Once you’re within range, he reaches for you, wrapping his long arm around your waist to pull you into him. Laughter bubbles up in your chest as you crash against him, his lips capturing yours in a flurry of kisses.

His hands push over your ass, squeezing your flesh before his palms push up and down your hips, “You look beautiful.” He says softly, his eyes drifting down your matching burgundy and navy bra and panties

You toss your braids over your shoulder before placing your hands back on his chest, “Thank you. How was your dinner?”

“Filling,” he smiles, “But I left room for dessert.”

“Well,” you start, pulling out of his grasp and moving back towards the table, “Hopefully you like chocolate.”

You spin on the balls of your feet to face him again, holding up a small plate with a large piece of chocolate cake. You smile as he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he steps up to you, leaning down just a tad to take a whiff of the freshly baked German chocolate cake. He opens his mouth, flicking those big blue eyes up to yours again, waiting patiently. You pluck the fork that’s dug into the spongy cake and cut off a small piece before placing it at his lips.

He takes it slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he slides his tongue along the bottom of the fork, sucking the cake into his mouth. He chews it carefully, closing his eyes as he hums in satisfaction, licking his lips, “That is good.”

You pop a piece into your mouth, agreeing with his sentiments, “Mmhmm, this is really good.”

Cutting off another piece, you slide it into your mouth, closing your eyes and moaning again. You feel his gaze, drifting down your chest and stomach, down your legs and then back up again. It feels nice— having his full attention. You don’t intend to go without it for the rest of your stay in L.A. While waiting for him, you came up with the perfect solution— your greatest deal yet.

With a gentle flutter, your eyes are open again, finding his staring back into yours. A flush of red seeps into his cheeks and lips, down his neck as his eyes drop to your chest quickly.

“Something the matter?” You ask coolly.

He shakes his head slowly, sucking his teeth, “Rethinking my decision to have dinner, that’s all.”

A smile quirks onto your lips, “A man has to eat, Mr. Rogers.”

“I can survive on chocolate cake and champagne.”

“Not for too long; unless…” your words drift away with ease as you step away from him again, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bedroom.

The soft click of his Christian Loubotin slip ons against the marble floor greets your ears as he follows. You point the fork towards your champagne glass still sitting on the table but keep walking, passing through the threshold of the sprawling bedroom and plopping onto the equally big bed. He enters moments later, hands full of a champagne glass and bottle. The mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge, right next to you, where he watches you chew on another piece of the rich cake intently, his gaze only leaving to top off the bubbly, golden liquid.

Steve waits until you pause to pass the square champagne flute your way, thick fingers brushing along your thin, manicured ones. That strong gaze stays on you as you sip, a lopsided grin pinching his cheek, slow blinks until you hand the flute back and cut into the cake once more.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He clears his throat at your sudden aloof demeanor, “Don’t be coy, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He laughs, “Maybe a spanking will help rejog your memory.”

You cut your eyes towards him, inhaling sharply at the notion, “Do you charge extra for that?”

“Only for naughty girls.”

“Let me grab my purse, then.”

You throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand playfully, but he catches your calf with his palm and gently rearranges you on the bed. He takes the fork from your fingers and digs it into the half eaten cake before bringing it to your lips.

“Answer me, please.”

You accept his offering slowly as your body constricts at the firm tone of his voice. You bat your eyes while you chew before slipping your hand down his wrist and forearm, stroking gently, “I was just thinking that you could possibly survive off of chocolate and champagne if that someone indulging you is also offering other vital nutrients.”

His eyes squint as he goes for another piece of cake, this time eating the bite himself, “Ah,” he says after a minute or two, his eyes towards the ceiling as he works it over in his mind, “You’re saying you’d also like to be my dinner.”

“Precisely. I mean, it doesn’t really make sense to leave one restaurant after the main course just to go to another for dessert.”

“It is timely; and, as you know, my time is extremely valuable.” He nods slowly, “My clients are a demanding bunch.”

You smile, “And don’t like to share.”

Steve pushes in close, brushing his lips against yours just to tease. He drops his face and nuzzles into you, the soft hair of his beard caressing the sensitive flesh of your neck before his lips start to nip and nibble.

“So you are jealous.”

The husky fullness of his voice sends a targeted missile to your core— your heart skipping a beat as the air freezes in your lungs. The feeling sinks right to your bones. A devilish hand slips along your bare stomach and around your hip to squeeze, before pulling you closer. A pink, velvet tongue presses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sliding up to your ear before he plants gentle, gentle kisses.

“How are we going to solve this problem?” He whispers, teeth nibbling at your earlobe.

“Mmm,” you hum, “Maybe we should talk when you aren’t so full. I’m a woman of class— I don’t eat leftovers.” Your sentence ends in a whisper as you lean up and get right next to his ear.

His chuckle is deep, vibrating through you. He takes a breath, his chest puffing up, straining his shirt and vest before he pushes it out slowly, “I still have two hands and a mouth.”

“I don’t know where those have been either.”

“Well then why don’t you give me a bath? That way you can be assured I’m clean.” He stands, extending his hand towards you, “Maybe I can work up a second appetite.”

Steve whisks you into the bathroom, only dropping your hand to start the bath. You lean against the long counter, crossing your legs as you watch him undress. He takes his time of course, flicking those eyes up at you every now and again as he sheds the rest of his Tom Ford suit, taking the time to fold it up and set it aside. Your eyes can’t help but drift, down that chest and hard stomach, over the smattering of coarse, dark blonde hair at his lower stomach, right to his thick, long cock.

“I usually make clients pay before letting them ogle me,” he winks, “You’re getting a freebie. Come.” He beckons again, curling his index finger towards you.

“Oh?” you purr, pushing away from the counter and sauntering to him, “Why am I so lucky to get such a perk?”

Steve inhales deep again as he slides his hands underneath your kimono at the shoulders, pushing it right off, “I like you.”

“You barely know me.”

He spins you around, fingers unhooking your bra before he crushes his chest to your back, “I have a feeling that’s going to change.” He whispers, pressing his cheek against yours as he stares at you through the mirror.

He pushes his hands over your hips, fingers curling around the strings of your thong, slipping it down your thighs. He bends to lift each leg, pulling the undergarment from you and tossing it atop his pile of clothes. A large hand encases yours and moves you to the edge of the tub, keeping a tight hold as you step into the hot water.

“My phone, please?” you ask sweetly as you settle down, resting your back against the porcelain.

Steve disappears momentarily only to return with your phone and another flute of champagne. He sits the items on the edge of the tub and slips into the opposite end, grabbing your feet and placing them against his chest. He lifts your right leg and starts pressing his thumbs into the bottom of your foot, rubbing firm circles, smiling slowly when you moan. Grabbing your phone, you thumb through your music before Prince fills the bathroom.

“I thought I was supposed to give you a bath?”

“We’ll get to that,” he says easily, lifting your toes to his lips, kissing them softly, “I want to hear this plan of yours.”

You pull your foot from his grasp and reach for your loofah and shower gel before pulling on his wrist to get him to move towards you. Steve slides between your legs as you separate them, wrapping them around his waist as he lays against your chest. You dip the loofah into the water, letting it soak it up before you squeeze it over his chest. A smile and a laugh bubble from you when you start to wash his chest as low groans rumble through his chest.

You push him up to sweep the soap over his shoulders and back, admiring the smooth canvas of tanned skin. He relaxes easy, muscles cooling and calming under your fingers, his breaths getting deep and long. The length of his body captivates you as you push the sudsy loofah over his bicep and down his arm, not able to reach his wrist without straining.

“You alright back there?”

“Shut up,” another giggle pushes through your lips, “You know, my legs are forty four inches from hip to toe, so that means you have eighty eight inches wrapped around you right now and you’re still longer than I am.” You kiss the tiny spot just underneath his ear, “Your mama fed you well.”

“She was a good woman, my mama. Hell of a cook.”

“Was?”

He sighs deeply as he runs his hands up and down your legs, “She died, a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, “That’s the meaning of life, right? You live, you love, you lose. I was lucky to have been able to take care of her until the end, some people don’t get that.” He tips his head up to yours, his eyes searching your face, “But that’s enough about me. How was your day?”

“Long,” you smile, anchoring your left hand in the middle of his chest as you continue to push the loofah around his body, “I couldn’t close my deal, so it looks like I’ll be in Los Angeles indefinitely.”

“We’re not that bad, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re not a Los Angelean,” you tease, poking him gently, “I can hear that Brooklyn in you, no matter how hard you try to hide it.”

His laughter fills the bathroom, making you smile wide. It’s a nice sound, his laugh. It’s also nice knowing you can pull such a genuine response from him— the slight distance he’s worked so hard to build over the years slowly starting to slip away.

“I miss New York sometimes. I haven’t been back since—” he cuts the words off, but you know what he was going to say. He clears his throat, visibly catching himself slipping and tenses, trying to regain his control, “I’m sure this news has something to do with you wanting to be my dinner and dessert?”

“Yes, so,” you start, clearing your throat as well, “If it isn’t obvious, I quite enjoyed my night with you, and I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that I hate to share.”

“Only child, huh?”

“Shush,” you slap at him, “I don’t want to have to wait my turn for you, and I’m much too active, if you catch my drift, to go days between having you.”

He nods slowly, “I’m with you.”

“I’ll have business dinners and such, actually I’m attending a polo match on Saturday and I um, well, I’d like you to be… mine… while I’m here. Be at my every beck and call.” You click your tongue, “You know, like an employee of sorts.”

You peer at the side of his face as he sucks his teeth, nodding slowly, hands still dragging along and squeezing your legs, “That’s an idea, isn’t it?” he turns his head towards you, “You’re a very attractive woman, you could have anybody you want, for free. Ms. Romanov to start.”

“She talks about me?” you gasp, giggling a little, biting your lip, “But I can’t flaunt her around the way I want to, we’re technically working together, imagine if HR gets a whiff. No, I’d like a professional, although if you don’t mind, we could invite Ms. Romanov over to play every now and again.”

“Whew,” Steve chuckles, pecking your lips quickly, “I like the sound of that. Well, if you’re talking indefinitely, it’s gonna cost ya.”

You nod, “Of course. We’re both business people, we can work this out.”

He pulls in another breath, blinking towards the opposite walls, “That sounds lovely, and I’m flattered but,”

“Steve,” you whine, “Come on, you’re not even thinking about it.”

“I have dates lined up already.”

“Cancel them.”

“I can’t do that,” you scoff, “I can’t! Once you head back to New York, I’ll be the one dealing with a horde of angry women— if they’ll even want to see me again!”

“Okay,” you cut him off, “I’ll let you finish out your week. How’s that? Then, starting Saturday, you’re mine until my deal is closed.”

“That could be a month, or more.”

“It could be a day,” you shrug, “Name your price, I’ll pay it either way.” He grows silent, “The uncertainty makes you the real winner here.”

You walk your fingers up and down his chest, nuzzling against his cheek and wet beard as he thinks it over, “Let’s do some math,” you say after a while, grabbing your phone, “You charge fifteen hundred a night, right?”

“Yeah, but you want twenty four hours a day, and you want to show me off like some boy-toy,” he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows, “Price goes up.”

“Say it.”

He knocks his head around a few times, “Twelve thousand a week.”

“Fifteen hundred times seven is ten thousand and change, and even so, that alludes to you having a date every night of the week— which I doubt. Try again.”

“Fine, nine.”

“Five thousand a week,” you counter, “And I’ll pop for dinner on nights I don’t have a business engagement.”

“Eight thousand and I won’t charge you for threesomes with Ms. Romanov, which, I can easily talk her into.”

You laugh, “That’s not fair, we’ll both be enjoying those threesomes with Natasha. Six thousand, threesomes included,” you wink playfully, “You can stay here while I’m at work, and you can use up my thousand dollars a day per diem. The hotel has a spa, a gym, a world renowned five star chef in the twenty four hour restaurant— you can book a masseuse everyday for god sakes.”

Steve sucks his teeth, “Seventy five hundred.”

“Sixty five hundred.”

He smiles, “Seven thousand. You pay upfront, every Monday, and no refunds— no matter when your deal closes.”

You grab your phone, flipping over to your cash app. His phone vibrates in his pant pocket as you turn the face towards him, the seventy five hundred dollar transaction still lighting up the screen.

“A tip?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at the extra money.

“For humoring me. We got a deal, Mr. Rogers?”

He stands, water falling off his body as he steps out and grabs one of the fluffy, white towels, “Let’s fuck on it.”

You smile wide.

“You know,” he starts, wrapping your shoulders with the towel as you stand, “I would have stayed for five.”

You wiggle your eyebrows, “I would have paid twelve.”

~~~

It’s been a little over a week since your deal with Steve was struck, and the two of you have fallen into quite a lovely little routine. You’ve already gotten used to falling asleep on his chest, his long arms wrapped around your middle. Waking up at random times in the night to find him rutting into you softly, his warm breath on the back of your neck, hot lips pressed against your shoulder, fingers digging into your hips.

The two of you get along well— having dinner together every night, laughing and talking aimlessly whether it’s down in the restaurant or curled up on the couch, you in Steve’s lap as a random show plays in the distance (not that you’re ever paying attention to it). He’s a charmer, becoming an instant hit with the businessmen and women at the polo match and business dinner you were invited to. He looks good on your arm, and you like having him there.

Waking up with Steve is also fun. You currently stand in the bathroom, brushing your teeth as CNN plays in the embedded TV in the long mirror. There’s a shift in the reflection of the bed, Steve rolling over and letting out a deep sigh as he drifts back to sleep. Blinking back towards yourself, you glance down at your phone, tapping it to illuminate the time. You’ve got a few minutes to spare.

You rinse your mouth quickly and pad back into the bedroom, pulling the white sheets away from his naked body. The mattress dips under your knees as you climb onto it and place your hands on his thighs, raking your painted fingernails down his flesh. You knead the muscles, squeezing gently as you massage each thigh, working your way up from his knees. Within minutes, he’s growing, cock twitching before towering up, the light from the bathroom helping cast its shadow over his stomach.

There’s a quick sound from him, a half grunt, half moan, and you can’t help but smile— you’ve learned he’s a light sleeper. You sink your warm mouth over the head of his cock, your tongue swishing and teasing his slit. He gasps, and it sends a quick shiver down your spine, your pussy constricting as you push down his length, taking him all in.

You only bob your head a few times before his hips start to join in, pushing up into your mouth gently. Soft little moans choke up in his throat. Breaths hitching before he squeaks, his body twitching with each pass of your tongue. Hums vibrate through his throat and chest as he licks his lips and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip— a deep red flushing through his fair skin.

Each tiny sound from him, long hisses, desperate pants, quick, sharp whines as you work him over, sends jolts through your own body, your pussy wet and achy, stomach tight. But you have an early Zoom meeting, and time is slipping away. You reach for his hands and place them on your head as you slow down, giving him a clear signal.

He slips one of his hands down your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently against your skin to get you to peek up at him. You nod quickly, and not a second goes by before he grabs a handful of your braids and fucks hard up into your awaiting mouth. You moan with him as he forces your head down with his hands, his hard, long cock slipping down your throat.

Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks, spit and cum bubbling out of your mouth as he fucks your face. Steve leans up to watch you take him, his hips still grinding hard.

“Tha’s right, baby,” he slurs, pushing out heavy breaths, “You take my cock so good, baby. That’s s’good, sugar. That mouth is so fucking pretty around my cock.”

Your heart leaps in your chest at his praise, the stroking of your ego making your body clench. You keep your nails dug into his thighs as he fucks into your messy mouth, lips flushed red, swollen and slippery. Steve whines loud, his octave high, the sound bitten off and broken as he slams his head back on the pillow, his mouth falling open. His hips pulse as he nearly cries, your scalp burning as he grips your head and hair.

You fight the urge to touch yourself, wanting to keep the delicious ache with you throughout the day. Steve lifts his head to make eye contact with you again, his face strained and broken as he whimpers, “Fuck, I’m gonna co— ,” he groans, loud and drawn-out, “That mouth is perfect. Ugh, I’m gonna paint that pretty mouth with my cum, baby— ah!”

He freezes suddenly and then pushes his hips upward, pushing his rigid cock deep before he spills, your warm, rough, pink tongue helping to coax him. He slams his head back down on the pillow, chest and muscles tense hard as each pass of his orgasm grows stronger, his spurts long and hot.

When his hips stop thrusting, he softens into the mattress, his limbs damn near liquid. His eyes flutter as he drags in deep, ragged, audible breaths, each one shaky and wet. You clean him up with your tongue, bobbing your head again, gripping his hips as filthy little noises and sweet cries squeak out of his throat. His body jerking and jutting. Once you’re finished, you kiss his tummy and smile before pushing off the bed.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbles, reaching for you as move back into the bathroom, “Hey, come’re”

You spin around to wink at him before closing the door a little to finish getting ready for your day.

“That’s not fair,” he shouts, making you giggle, “Fuck.”

~~~

One Zoom meeting turns into two, turns into three and beyond. You jot down notes, shaking your head slightly in agreement as you grab your phone, calculating a few numbers before you recite them for the rest of the group. It’s kind of amazing how you all deal with millions of dollars like it’s absolutely nothing.

You’ve had your nose so stuck in your laptop and phone all morning, you haven’t had a chance to pay any attention to the tall blonde traipsing around the place, shooting you little looks and quick smiles as you work, in hopes to garner a glance. It hasn’t worked so far; until now that is, as he saunters out of the bedroom after his trip to the gym and a late shower, chest bare, grey sweats hanging low on his lips.

Water still beads on his shoulders, a few strays slipping down his pecs into the dark hair that covers his chest. You cut your eyes towards him and slide them with him as he moves into the dining area, watching as he bends over to pluck a bottle of water out of the mini fridge. He stands back tall, rolling his broad shoulders a bit before he tips his head and guzzles the cool liquid, Adam's apple bobbing.

“Hello? You still with us?”

You snap your eyes back towards your laptop, a smirking Natasha Romanov staring back at you, “Sorry, I think my, uh, connection got a little wonky,” you lie, sending your eyes quickly back towards the chuckling Steve, “What were you saying, Ms. Romanov?”

“Scott Lang, our other CEO is flying in next week from Chicago, he wants to set a meeting with you but was wondering if you could carve out sometime to call him beforehand. He just wants a run down of the numbers you’re proposing.”

“Sure, I’ll pencil him into my schedule later today, if that’s okay? Around three?”

Natasha taps on your phone, “Perfect, looks like he’s free. Mr. Prym also would like to see you and Mr. Parker again to go over the construction plans of the possible new building.”

“Okay,” you nod, turning your attention to your phone to text Peter, “I’ll get back to you whenever Peter shoots me his schedule. He’s kinda busy though, so it might not be until next week.”

“That’s alright.” she answers absentmindedly, “Clint? Do you have anything for her?”

“Nope, I’m good I think.” The short blonde says.

“Nick? Wanda?”

After a chorus of no’s, you all say your goodbyes before you end the call, returning to your notebook, forgetting all about the burly man stalking towards you. Your phone buzzes, and you grab it up, skimming over Peter’s text message before you respond quickly, setting up a quick call with him for the following day and asking him to share his calendar with you. A soft ding sounds from your computer and you’re immediately turning back towards it, bouncing slightly when a weight pushes into the couch next to you.

The taps of the keys on your keyboard are followed by the swoosh of your outbound email before you grab your pen and start scribbling again. A constantly buzzing phone, more taps, more swooshes, and your gentle, random hums are all sounds you’re used to; not so much your sudden roomie. He’s bored and slightly annoyed by your snubs all morning— also wanting a little payback for your shenanigans so early in the morning.

You haven’t even noticed that he’s now completely naked.

You lean up a little, squinting as you study the growth chart on your screen, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as your mind crunches the information. A gasp fills your chest as you’re lifted from your spot and settled right onto his lap. Before you can protest, he shimmies the short shorts covering your lower half down your thighs and over your knees, and pushes your white satin panties to the side.

Steve sweeps your box braids over your shoulder as the head of his cock pushes through your folds. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, that soft beard brushing against your jaw as he rocks his hips slowly, teasing your clit and opening with his dick. He grazes his fingers over your thighs before he cups your hot sex in his palm and uses his fingers to spread you open.

With a firm press, he slips inside of you, pushing until he bottoms out. He wiggles his hips, just so you can feel him moving inside of you before he grabs your laptop and places it back in your lap, “Don’t let me disturb you.”

You squirm on top of him, your hips rolling slightly as he starts to play with your clit, rubbing slow circles against your soft, wet skin. Your mind is blank as you stare at the computer screen, breath light and choppy, body tightening around his rigid cock. You want him to move, to thrust up into you real nice and slow while he thumbs and pulls at your nipple, breathing hot, hushed words into your ear. Trying to coax him, you wiggle again, pushing down onto him but he doesn’t relent— he just turns on the tv and settles back into the couch, throwing his arm over the back like you’re not even sitting on his dick right now.

He continues to rub your clit lazily, keeping his eyes on Sports Center as your body tenses every now and again, tiny, needy moans vibrating your vocal chords. You try to focus on the numbers and emails in front of you, but your mind is mush— a dull ache throbbing in the pit of your stomach, your teased clit starting to sting from his gentle pressure.

Natasha’s name flashes across your laptop, sending a sudden strike of fear through you, heart dropping to your feet, “Steve—”

“Answer it,” he says gently, “I’ll be quiet.”

“She’ll see you!” You hiss.

He just chuckles in return, “Not if you stay still, she won’t. Answer it.”

Your fingers tremble over the mouse pad, the arrow hovering over the accept button. Steve reaches around and taps the button before relaxing back into the couch, sinking lower into it as Natasha’s smiling face pops up on your screen.

“Hi,” she greets happily, her chin in her palm, a pair of red, thick rimmed glasses over her eyes, “Are you busy?”

“Um,” you start, clearing your throat as your voice quivers, “Not, um, not really. What’s, uh, what’s—” you grunt when Steve finally thrusts into you.

Natasha’s eyes squint as she tilts her head, “You okay?”

Smiling quickly, you nod, “Yeah, sorry. What’s up? Does Mr. Prym need something else from me?”

“Oh, no, this isn’t work related.” She laughs lightly, “We’ve missed each other in the office this past week, I was just wondering if you were doing okay, see how L.A. is treating you.”

Steve shifts underneath you, pushing his hips hard. You tense hard, muscles quivering around him as you dig your nails into his thigh, trying to muffle the squeak that rises in your throat.

“It’s great,” you strain— high pitched and shaky, “It’s um, I l-like it here.”

“Have you seen Steve lately?”

Your eyes widen when Steve snakes his free hand up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your left tit. You turn the laptop away from you quickly as Steve leans up, resting his chin on your shoulder, another deep rumble of laughter falling from his lips.

He centers the screen on the two of you again, kissing your shoulder as Natasha feins shock, “She’s seen quite a bit of me lately.”

Embarrassment flushes through you— heat rising in your cheeks, but Steve rolls his hips slowly and jossles you on his lap and you can’t help but sound, a wet little whimper as he thumbs your nipple underneath your shirt, “S-Steve.”

“It’s okay honey,” he whispers, kissing your jaw, his eyes cutting back towards the laptop as Natasha leans back in her chair, teeth dug into her bottom lip as a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks, “Little Natasha has a voyeur kink,” he pushes his mouth right next to your ear, his octave dropping, “She loves watching me fuck pretty girls like you,” he lifts your top up, exposing your see-through bra as he turns his attention back to the screen, “Don’t you, baby?”

“Are you fucking her right now?” Natasha breathes, her voice thick and deep, “I wanna see.”

Steve sets the laptop on the glass table in front of you, pushing it back until your lower halves are exposed— his cock rooted deep in your cunt. You hear Natasha groan, watch as she starts to drag the pads of her fingers across her chest as she sways gently back and forth in her swivel chair.

“Does she feel good, Steve?” She asks.

“Oh,” Steve purrs, lifting your bra slowly so your tits fall out one by one, bouncing softly, “She is so tight, Nat. So warm. You’d fall in love with this pussy.”

You fall back against his chest, turning your head slightly to nuzzle into the side of his face as he gropes your tits in his massive hands, squeezing hard as he pinches your nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. Languid thrusts start to push you up and down, the fingers on your pussy spreading you open for Natasha as she stands, wiggling her hips to hike her skirt up.

She sits back in her chair and lifts her left leg, resting her foot against the edge of her desk. Her thin fingers push through her slick, wet folds as she watches Steve fuck you slow, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. You open your eyes just enough to watch her unbutton her blouse, slipping her hand in to pull her left breast out, exposing her pierced, pink nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan quick, before hissing as Steve pushes in and out, humming soft as he starts to let it go to his head, “You’ve been hiding those from me.”

“You can see them in person soon,” she purrs, her head falling back on the chair as she pushes two fingers into her cunt, “I can’t wait to feel your tongue on my tits.”

You tense at her words, Steve cursing as your muscles squeeze around him. He bites down on your shoulder as he starts to fuck into you faster. He rolls your nipples in his fingers as the sound of your skin slapping against his gets louder— sharper. Natasha blinks slowly through hooded eyes, her sweet mouth falling open as her hips buck, one hand slapping at her reddened clit and puffy, slick folds, the other pumping in her slit.

A shudder races up your spine— hips jerk unexpectedly, digging down into Steve’s, “Sugar’s getting close, Nat,” he breathes, sliding his hand back to your clit, “God, I wish you could feel how tight she’s squeezing me. Hear how wet she is?”

You should be embarrassed; how spread open you are, the wet, filthy squeaks and squishes of your cunt as he ruts into you. But watching Natasha as she fucks herself to you, hearing her mewl and curse, her fair, smooth skin blushing red while she loses herself. It’s all obscene. Sleazy; but that’s why you like it.

“Oh, make her come, Steve,” Natasha groans, her tongue slipping out to lick at her nipple, “I want to see that pussy quiver.”

Steve wraps his arm around your middle, holding you tight, breathing into your ear as his hips go into overdrive. He fucks into you fast and hard, bouncing you on his lap. He shoves his fingers into your mouth, hissing and groaning as you suck them. The sweet whimpers and whines of Natasha make you shiver, the sight of her hips thrashing and the sun glinting off of the diamond studded bar nipple rings accenting her perfect tits, send you right over the edge.

You throw your head back as your orgasm blooms, spreading through your veins like fire. You whail as you slam your eyes shut, Steve dropping his wet fingers to slap your cunt, teasing your clit as it jumps with contractions.

“Oh, God, yes,” Natasha pants, her fingers rubbing quick, hard circles against her clit, hips pulsing, “Yeah, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna... come, baby— you’re so fucking perfect, sweet girl.”

“You are perfect, honey,” Steve moans into your ear as wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you, “That tight pussy feels so good around me. So sweet— that’s why I call you honey.” He wraps his fingers around your neck, “You want me to come in her, Nat? Huh? You wanna see my hot cum spilling out of her?”

“Yes!” She cries, hunched over as she thrashes her hand back and forth, her mouth hanging, “Yes, Steve.”

As if on cue, he grunts deep, his cock jumping as he starts to spurt. He keeps a tight grip around your neck as he fucks hard with each spit, the hot ribbons coating your slick muscles. He pulls out of you unceremoniously, cantering your hips to give Natasha the full view of his silk dribbling out of you, your spasming, tight cunt pushing it out.

Natasha comes hard, her moans growing louder and higher as the coil finally snaps. Her tits tremble with the aftershocks, her hips jutting upward randomly as she creams. Her fingers slow as her eyes close, her head tilts back and resting against the back of her swivel chair as she licks her lips. Deep, smooth breathes swelling her chest as her hips come to rest.

Steve kisses you deep— tongue pushing into your wet warmth to massage the roof of your mouth. He sucks on your top lip, smacks on you loud as he palms your thighs before kneading gently. Smiling against his lips, you let your body go limp; melt right into his burly chest and stomach, his cock resting against your balmy, used, sticky cunt.

“Goodness, me,” Natasha purrs, a sated, soft smile on her lips, “That was sweet. We really need to get together now.” She laughs.

You giggle, pushing your fingers into Steve’s hair, “Steve let me work threesomes into his base price, so you’re welcome any time, babe.”

“Oh, he did, did he? That’s not fair Steven Grant, you nickel and dime the shit out of me.”

Steve shrugs, “What can I say, she’s a better business woman than you.”

“I can see that. I hate to come and run, but I need to freshen up. I have a meeting with Hank in a half hour. Maybe we can all have dinner Friday night?”

“I’ll make reservations. The restaurant in the hotel is fabulous.”

She winks, her lips curled in a smile, “Text me.”

The connection ends and you fall back into Steve’s chest, brushing your cheek against his, “Now that your debauchery has ended, can I get back to work now?” you laugh.

“Nope,” he answers quickly, slapping your laptop shut and lifting you with him as he stands, “It’s lunch time.”

“Steve,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you back into the bedroom, “I have so much to do. I’m waiting for the architect to call me back, I have a presentation I have to put together—”

“Numbers to crunch, businesses to buy, blah, blah, blah,” he drops you onto the mattress and grabs the menu from the nightstand before plopping down next to you, “They got sushi today, yummy.”

Work becomes an afterthought. You and Steve lay in your nakedness, eating slowly as you stare at each other, rogue fingers reaching out and sliding along hips and arms and tummies. Lingering blue eyes skip along your face and body, his deep laugh rattling every bone, every muscle, every vein you possess. He opens up a little more, talking aimlessly about he and Natasha’s friendship, how they met through his friend, and fellow escort Bucky Barnes.

“Bucky,” you lay on your back, leg bent at the knee as it sways back and forth slowly, Steve curled around you, “Even his name is kinky.”

He nuzzles into your neck, exhaling deep as he rests his eyes. His long arm is slung over your chest, legs tangled with yours, “He’s a good guy. I might let you meet him one day.”

“Might?”

“I don’t want him stealing you away from me.”

The words hang over you like a cloud. You blink slowly up at the ceiling as they, the words, swirl around you, filling your chest and head. Maybe you’re thinking too much into it, putting too much weight on them. He probably says this to all of his clients while in a post sex haze. You’re being silly, you don’t even know this man… but you want to.

That scares you.

After only a week, you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. What started out as just needing some company every now and again, has turned into looking forward to seeing him after work. Not being able to wait until you're across a dinner table from him, being squeezed against his body while in the tub, not wanting to pry yourself out of his arms in the morning. There was a time where you thought nothing of work— buying, selling, making money, climbing the corporate ladder— you ate and breathed your work.

Now?

All you want to do is eat sushi and nap the days away, with Steven Grant Rogers wrapped around you like a blanket.

~~~

Steve glances over his shoulder at your sleeping body as he sits on the edge of the bed. He stands slowly, running his hand through his hair as he moves towards the double doors and out onto the balcony. Night is falling over L.A., the sky dark as the moon and stars start to shine through. He leans over the concrete columns as he thumbs through his phone, casting his eyes out over the streets as he taps on a name.

“Steve,” a deep voice says, “Shit, I thought you died, man. Where have you been?”

“Sorry Buck, I’ve been with a client all week.”

“All week? Wow, big spender.”

“She’s from New York, in town on business.”

“That sounds fuckin’ awesome. Where are you?”

“The Waldorf Astoria, Presidential suite.” Steve turns, tilting his head as he watches you sleep.

“Oh, shit! You lucky bastard!”

Steve continues to stare at you, blinking slowly as you roll over onto your side, “You know, she hasn’t been out on the balcony once since she’s been here,” He says absentmindedly, nibbling on his bottom lip, “She’s afraid of heights.”

“O-kay?” Bucky chuckles as he draws out the word, slightly confused, “Why do you sound so sad? What’s going on?”

“I’m breaking rule number one.” Steve answers softly, dropping his head.

“Steve,” Bucky warns, his octave dropping.

“I don’t want her to go.” Steve answers softly, “I’m— fuck, I think I’m falling for her, Buck.”

~~~

Your phone vibrates softly against the couch, illuminating in the darkness as a text from Natasha slides in.

Good news! Hank’s ready to sign the deal first thing tomorrow morning!

#marveldiversitychallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #you x steve rogers #reader x steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve x you #you x steve #avintagekiss24

[threeminutesoflife]

Don’t Forget

Pairings: Steve x Black!Reader Summary: A look at family life for Steve, Reader and their daughter after reader suffers problems with her memory  Warnings: slight angst/ends happy, memory loss due to injury, smut, slightest breeding kink Word Count: 1.8k

prompt: 50 First Dates

a/n: @allaboardthereadingrailroad❣️🧡​ thank you for hosting the Diversity Challenge 

a/n2: piece is purposely choppy and randomly placed to reflect the reader’s struggle with memory. Also, references to Dark Knight, Love Actually, Say Anything, 50 First Dates.

___ A monetary, momentary impact- cause and effect:

Bank robberies were many things. Successful ones were more. Timing, precision, determination; a well-mapped out plan, and methodical dedication to achieve a streamless end result.

It was that sort of successful robbery that cemented you, an involuntary participant, on a repetitive course of choppy, foggy memories. Despite the jovial clown designs of the robbers’ masks, the severity of the situation was real.   

Because things really do play out in slow motion as dramatic events unfold- a deafening crash, a cloud of dusty sunlight pouring in through the bank's broken entrance. Stilted, broken flashes of your life projected themselves on the backs of your closed eyelids.

Unfortunately, you were within the range of the propelling debris when the school bus reversed into the building.

Because of that day, your memory would skip and strip. 

____

Exhilaration- friendly fear of tickle monsters:

The sound of tiny feet slapping the floor drew closer from down the hall, ten little toes against high-gloss maple.

The bedroom door crashed open with no regard to the plaster behind it.

Giggles cut through the room as thirty pounds of mischief in footed pajamas launched itself straight at you.

“Mommy!”

Your three year old squealed before bombing her limbs upon your stomach, "Daddy’s gonna get us!”

___

No time for regret, when you’re in the moment of gratitude:

Steve found you standing in front of the vanity, staring at the mirror- unfocused. Frowning slightly, he knew what you were doing to yourself.  

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Steve, do you ever think... it’d be easier if you didn’t ask me out all those years ago?”

“Which time?” Steve tested the waters with the usual joke, gathering time to prepare himself for the familiar, spirit-dampening conversation.

Every few months you’d ask him if all this was worth it- if the extra work to be with you was what he wanted. He’d always reply with, ‘Loving you's a blessing, not a chore.’

You’d hesitate at those words, at his sincerity- until he was able to coax affection back into your field of vision. Because you were worth it to him. 

“Steve, come on. I’m being serious.”

“Me too. I’m lucky to be as stubborn as people claim me to be-“

“Oh, it’s a fact," you snorted. "Not a claim. You’re stubborn.”

“Good thing for me then, huh?" Steve smiled, relieved by your humor. "Otherwise, I’d miss out on everything that’s good in my life.”

___

She’s got jokes:

A documentary splashed itself across the television screen as you sank into the couch next to Steve. Pointing your toes, you rested your legs over his lap and cracked open the fake memory journal's spin. 

Watching you from the corner of his eye, Steve hid his excitement that you brought the book out by him. 

You usually looked over it alone, too self-conscious to try remembering things in front of others. He always encouraged you to sit and read it with him. He liked resharing the stories you created together, but your underlying guilt for not recalling events easily shut the door on those conversations.   

Turning the page, you caught Steve glancing at you before shooting his attention back to the screen with a cough. 

Smugly stretching your legs, you bit your lip and rubbed your ankle over Steve’s bulge. Catching the way his thigh jumped and flexed under his thin sweatpants, your eyes darted back to the journal. You couldn’t wait to play out your prank. 

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Steve picked up your ankle and rolled his knuckles along the arch of your foot. As much as he appreciated the way you riled him up, he wanted you to open up.

Chuckling, you mumbled to yourself how great that day must have been before turning the page and complimenting another pretend event. 

Another faux memory praised, Steve twisted towards you before shaking his head and turning back to the screen. Pressing his thumb harder into the sole of your foot, he was unsure how to proceed. 

Delighted by his confusion, you complimented another memory with a theatrical dreamy sigh.

Giving in to his curiosity, Steve paused the television and gave it a shot, “What are we looking at?” 

“I thought it might be nice to talk about the stuff we did- like you’ve wanted.”

The smile that spread across Steve’s face almost made you feel bad for the prank.

“Yeah, yes- I’d like that,” he shut the tv off, practically dropping the remote in excitement. “What are you reading, what’s making you laugh?”

“How you asked me out using cue cards you made. The messages you came up with were sweet.”

“...Cue cards?”

“It was special of you, Steve. Taking the time to write out something on each one. Here. Look at this sentence, you called me perfect. Reading what you did and how loved I felt, you’re so wonderful.”

“...Honey...” Steve’s voice cracked slightly, “I don’t, I don't know anything about cue cards-”

“-And then the time you stood outside my bedroom window with that boombox. Holding it obnoxiously high above your head. Thank goodness for biceps, am I right?" You teased, nudging Steve with your elbow. "That gesture might be a little too much for some but reading how you made me feel, it meant so me.”

“You wrote that?” Steve questioned, an edge of concern creeping in. “You think I actually did-... you remember these things happening?”

“My favorite is right here. When you built that little house out of waffles at the diner. Setting up a kiddie pool of syrup for us to dip the roof in and a jacuzzi of hot chocolate nearby. And then your expression- when I said I'm more of a pancake person. You argued how pancakes aren’t sound enough for construction.” 

Keeping your poker face intact, you tried not to flinch as Steve inspected you intensely. 

Suddenly, he jetted forward and snatched the fake journal from your hands. Sailing it over his shoulder, he knocked your legs from his lap and climbed off the couch to loom over you. 

Before regret set in from your play of inaccurate historical accounts, your body snapped backward as Steve yanked you down the sofa by your ankles. 

“Hysterical. Pancakes over waffles” Steve scoffed dryly at your teasing, boxing himself over you and settling his knee between your legs. “I know you too well. You’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

____

Adoration, a promise of tradition and support:

You sat in bed with her snuggled by your side, a little nose peeked out from under her blanket. Her little hand wrapped itself around your shirt, her other held a well-loved, stuffed bunny. 

Scooping her up, you cradled her in your arms. Warm security. Peeling a corner of the blanket back, you kissed her cheek. 

Between giggles, she raised the rabbit up in the air and you played along- one kiss for her, another for her stuffed friend.

She settled in slowly with a yawn as you hummed the lullaby your mother softly sang to you before bed. The same rich melody draped with the lyrics your grandmother sang to her children. 

Tears gathered in your eyes as you willed yourself not to forget this moment.

___

Gratitude and gratefulness:

“Can’t you see how beautiful you are? Knowing I’m yours- that you’re mine... when you come out of that bedroom each morning, I witness that recognition of love on your face when you see us...” Steve’s body tensed, his shoulders shook as he stumbled over the words. "...getting to see you with our girl each day."

“Hey," You called to him, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "Hey, handsome."

Steve pressed his forehead against yours and tried to push down his anxiety. 

Your eyes locked to his as you promised teasingly, “You and our daughter- seeing her each day- that’s my happiness. You're just a bonus.”

Sputtering a laugh, he closed his eyes and relaxed from your fingers threading through his hair. Steve never took for granted how you soothed him, especially during the times when he should actually be comforting you. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispered. 

“Some things are easier to remember than others for me.”

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted over yourself, a half-smile raising the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. The journal's a great cheat sheet, makes it easier to recall I have a husband. Now, if only I could pick him-”

Steve moved quickly, cutting off your joke. His mouth trapped your next words when his tongue swept over your lips. 

___

Muscle memory:

“Hold your legs. Spread'em wide for me,” Steve instructed between a husky, broken grunt. “Wider, sweetheart.”

He stroked himself in front of you as you laid naked on your back. Your arms were sandwiched between the fold of your legs and hands locked around your ankles. You provided your husband more access and an even prettier view with your feet in the air and legs parted. 

He ran his fingers over your folds, circling your clit. Lining himself up, he thought how these were some of his favorite moments with you, the intimacy and the need.

Caught up in the stretch and sensation of him slowly entering you, you almost missed his next words over your moans. 

“Want…” Steve stuttered, “want to be deep in you, beautiful.”

You mewled under him, squeezing him from his words. Releasing your ankles, you grabbed his arms for support as he slowly slid deeper. Steve’s movements faltered with a groan, feeling you tighten around him.

He closed his eyes to concentrate as you felt goosebumps run down his forearms under your palms. 

“Fuck,” Steve cursed and praised, thrusting harder. Your legs bounced above your arms from each snap of his hips.

“Free your legs. Give me your hands, sweetheart,” Steve instructed, massaging your breast.

Pulling him down, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. You inhaled his woodsy shampoo as you dragged your nose along the light shadow of his beard. Capturing his mouth with yours, you tasted salt on his top lip.   

With a quick bite along your collarbone, his chest rumbled when you ignored his instructions. Collecting your wrists in one hand, he secured them over your head and ground into you harshly. 

“I love you,” Steve said, slowing his pace. 

You replied with a roll of your hips, earning a dark moan from him, "I love you, too.” 

Steve rocked back on his heels, dragging away his length and slipping out of you completely. Your body immediately began to cool from his lack of touch. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you called out, "What's wrong?"

“Your empty journal sheets bother me,” Steve stated, running his hands over your knees. "We're fixing that."  

His thumbs circled up your inner thighs, looping closer to your core. Spreading your legs further apart, he pushed them into the mattress. Taking himself back in his hand, he palmed his erection and rocked his shaft along your folds. 

"Let's have another baby, sweetheart," he smirked, teasing his tip into you. "Gotta fill up all those pages.”

#steve rogers x black!reader #marveldiversitychallenge #steve x black!reader #black!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #marvel fanfiction

[chrispevanss]

Under Your Cover

A/N: This is my (incredibly) late entry to @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge. My prompt was ‘Swimming Pool Summer’ by Capital Cities. If you enjoy, drop a comment, leave a reblog, send me a message, let me know! 

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader 

Word Count: 2293

“Bucky,” The name slipped through your lips as a pitiful whimper. Your nails scraped across his scalp, down the smooth expanse of his back. Bucky’s hands balled the sheets next to your head, his hips slapped against yours, desperate to reach that ethereal high.

“Yeah princess, just like that.” Bucky’s hoarse grunts pierced your ears, drawing you closer to your end. One hand absently trailed down your body, a single fingertip skated across your clit, sending waves of pleasure screaming through your body.

“I’m, oh god, yes!” Your mouth hung open in a silent O as your orgasm took over. It stole the words from your lips, replacing them with guttural moans, and scrapes of your nails down your partner’s back. Bucky followed a handful of thrusts later, his own orgasm turning him into a feral animalistic man. Large hands gripped your hips, sure to leave bruises behind, a reminder of who you belonged to.

When your head finally surfaced again, you were pulled into the soft expanse of Bucky’s arms. His lips peppered kisses along your head, his hand, mindlessly twirled across the naked expanse of your back. His skin was warm, and you could smell the intoxicating cocktail of his cologne and sweat where your head lay in his neck.

The soft thump thump of the bass from the party below brought you fully back to reality. Back to the reality that this was just a casual thing, that come tomorrow you would go back to work, and Bucky would go back to saving the world.

“We know Stark throws great parties, but I think the best party is the one we make in the bedroom,” Bucky chuckled into your hair. A smile found its way across your lips, a giggle broke the silence between the two of you.

You lay in bliss for a few more stolen moments. But that bubble of bliss was soon popped by a sharp, persistent knock on the bedroom door. With a groan, Bucky climbed out of bed, sliding his gray boxer briefs over his pert ass. The knock came again, harder and more persistent.

“Gimme a second!” His tone reached toward exasperation. He fished his pants out of the pile of clothes and flung the door open, pants half zipped. And came almost nose to nose with a tall, well built blonde on the other side.

“Bucky!” He drunkenly slurred. Bucky finished zipping his pants and sighed, shoving his hands in the front pockets.

“Steve, I’m a little busy here. Why don’t you go downstairs, have some water and I’ll come find you when I’m done okay?” Bucky said protectively. He slid the plastic cup from Steve’s palm, much to the latter’s disdain.

“Fine,” Steve pouted. Bucky closed the door, the click of the latch the sweetest sound you had heard that night.

“Now where were we?” Bucky started to shuck off his pants and underwear again. He knelt at the end of the bed, staring at you with unbridled lust in his eyes. He crawled toward you, the dim light glinted off the thin layer of sweat on his body, and you had to swallow down a desperate moan.

After Bucky made you come undone twice more, you lay next to him, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his body.

“I should probably go check on Steve,” He laughed, breaking the silence.

You reluctantly crawled out of the large bed, grabbing your own clothes from the pile, leaving your panties for Bucky as a souvenir.

“See you in a couple weeks?” You laughed softly, kissing Bucky’s chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl.”

—

His lips tasted like the cream soda he had been nursing all night, mixed with a soft hint of mint toothpaste. Intoxicating, really. Your hands curled around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer, blurring the lines of your bodies.

“What do you say…” Bucky started.

“Yes.” You spoke up, answering the question that sat unspoken. His fingers found yours in the dark, you trailed behind him, away from the party, from the people, to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was decorated in shades of blue, accented with beach themed decorations. A choice that screamed suburban guest room.

Bucky closed the door with a soft click and turned the lock into place. A shiver crawled up your spine as he wound his arms around your waist from behind, his face descended to your neck. You moaned softly, hands carding through his hair.

“Strip.” The comment was curt. Cutting through your haze of lust. You bit your lip, slowly unbuttoning your jeans. The material slid to the floor with your panties. The cool air stung as it hit your sensitive clit.

Bucky cooed praises in your ear. Your hands curled around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Now the bra.” He instructed calmly. Your fingers unhooked the cotton garment, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room,  a shiver crawled up your spine as Bucky’s fingers traced along your hips.

“Now what?” You whispered huskily.

“Get on the bed and spread those pretty legs for me,” Bucky’s lips ghosted across your neck, pulling soft moans from your chest.

You leaned forward on the bed on all fours, making sure you wiggled your ass as you climbed toward the headboard. Bucky groaned in appreciation and you bit your lip when you heard the familiar sound of his belt loosening and the zipper of his own jeans descending.

“Like this?” You teased turning around, grabbing the backs of your thighs, feet flat on the mattress, your most intimate area exposed to your lover.

“Touch it.” Bucky breathed, his hand wrapped around his erection, slowly stroking. You dipped your fingers in your mouth before skating them down your body, the tips brushed against your sensitive clit.

Your fingers circled your clit, slowly, soft whimpers echoing off the walls. Your middle finger dipped inside your soaked folds. Using your slick as lube, your fingers began to circle your clit faster, harder. Your back arched off the bed as you plummeted towards your own end. Bucky’s breathing was labored, grunts and moans ripped from his chest.

“You close?” Bucky was at the end of the bed now, one knee on the bed, cock still firmly in hand.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!” You cried out, tears had begun to form in your eyes, your fingers swiping over your clit even harder, faster. You could feel the coil within you tightening, you were almost there. Your head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut, right on the cusp.  

Smack.

Your eyes shot open, bewildered. You were ready to chastise whoever decided to interrupt your most intimate of moments. Bucky stood over you now. Completely naked, a dark smile crossed his face, your own features softened.

“Why?” Your voice shook.

“Because, the only way you’re going to get to cum tonight is gonna be on this fucking cock, understand?” Bucky’s voice was but a low growl as he caged you in with his arms. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You moaned, pulling him closer.

“Please?” You looked up at him doe-eyed. Your cunt was throbbing, and you were sure he could feel it without even touching you.

“What do you want?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow in your direction. Your hips bucked towards his, but before they could meet, before you could get the friction you desired, his hands shot out, pinning you to the bed.

“Buckyyyyyyy…” You whimpered, your finger traced down his chest, you put up your best demure front.

“Tell me. Use your words, and tell me. Or I’ll get dressed and leave right now.” Bucky dragged the tip of his cock along your folds. You preened into his touch, desperate mewls leaving your lips.

“Come on,” He cooed. “Tell Bucky what you want.”

“Your cock! Just fuck me stupid already!” You huffed. A wicked smile crossed Bucky’s face as he dipped the head of his cock into your waiting heat.

“Oh God,” Your eyes rolled back, hands gripped at his biceps. Nails dug into his flesh.

“That’s just the tip baby girl. You must be really desperate tonight,” He mused. His hips slowly bucked forward, driving his cock into you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally bottomed out, you couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled off your lips. Bucky grunted, almost feral, as he pulled out and pushed his cock back in.

“Every single time baby, so fuckin tight,” His teeth grit in pleasure, his hands white knuckled the sheets.

“I-I won’t last long, Bucky” You whimpered, your hand reaching between your bodies to rub your swollen clit.

“You’re gonna last until I tell you to cum, you hear me?” Bucky’s teeth caught your earlobe, his fingers pushed yours out of the way so his thick digits could circle your little nub.

His thrusts picked up, all sense of romanticism out the window. This was raw, animalistic, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it. His free hand gripped both of your hands and pinned them above your head, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely audible above your shared moans and cries of pleasure.

“You ready? You cum when I tell you or not at all okay? 3...2...1...cum” Bucky growled in your ear. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you off the edge into that ethereal high. Your back arched off the bed, your heels dug into his ass, your clit pressed against his sweat warmed skin.

Bucky managed a few more thrusts before his cock began to swell within you. As you began to descend from your own high, Bucky reached his. Spilling his seed deep inside you, marking you as his. You moaned at the warmth that radiated through your body. His teeth sank into your neck as he rode out his own high. His hips stuttered, he spilled the last of his release into your womb before he pulled out, rolling to the side, chest heaving.

“What the fuck was that?” You smiled, leaning up on your elbow to look down at Bucky. He chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss.

“That was called sex, and that’s what we do everytime there’s a party because we don’t know a damn person out there, and sex is a lot more fun than trying to act like you’re interested in some drunk person’s stories.” Bucky’s hand ran down your sides while he shook with laughter.

You smacked his chest playfully. An ungodly snort escaped your body as you too shook with laughter.

“No! I meant the ‘you cum when I tell you or not at all’. The whole Dom vibe.” You clarified. Bucky looked into your eyes, lust glinted behind his crystal orbs.

“Did you not like it?” He cocked his head to the side. You quickly backpedaled, shaking your head no.

“No! No! I loved it. It’s just so unlike you.”

“Thought I’d try something different and truthfully,” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I’ve never cum harder. And if I’m not mistaken, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Your face grew warm and you cast your eyes down to the navy blue sheets. You nodded tentatively, chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mere.” Bucky opened his arms, and you gratefully obliged, snuggling your body up to his warm, broad frame. You breathed in the oh so familiar cocktail of his cologne and sweat. The nightcap of your trysts as it were.

You lay in silence for a few more stolen moments before you gently pulled away from Bucky.

“You okay?” He propped himself up on his elbow as you shuffled through the pile of clothes, picking up your own garments.

“Yeah. I should probably go check on my friends. Make sure they aren’t downing questionable shots, or making out with questionable people.” You laughed, tugging your panties and jeans up your legs. “I think Tony is having a party next weekend, you gonna be there?” You already knew his answer, or hoped you did.

Bucky’s face fell to the sheets and so did your stomach.

“I uh. I need to talk to you about that. I know this isn’t the best place, I mean, we just hook up at parties but this has been eating at me since the first time we did this, what was it 9-10 months ago?” Bucky’s hand scrubbed the back of his neck, he sat up straight, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Buck, if I’ve said or done something I’m really sorry. You know I never intended to hurt you,” Your voice cracked a little, you approached the bed and extended a hand to the still very naked man.

“No. No. It’s not that. It’s this. Us. This no strings attached hooking up. I can’t do it anymore. I caught feelings and I should have fucking told you a long time ago but I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna fuck up whatever we have because I really do enjoy you. I enjoy being with you, and I want that to extend outside of partying. I want to take you to dinner, and breakfast, I want to make coffee for you—” You leaned forward, cutting Bucky off with a soft kiss. His hand reached up to cup your face, as his opposite hand wrapped around your waist.

“So…..” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled and bit your lip.

“Wanna go get coffee in the morning?”

“I’d love that,” Bucky whispered capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss.

Tagging: @tellmealovestory​ @dontshootmespence​

#marveldiversitychallenge #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #marvel #Marvel Universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fic

[mrsalwayswrite]

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”. 

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them. 

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out. 

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality 

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

<gif is from Pinterest>

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.  

 Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along. 

 Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost. 

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing. 

 Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really. 

 It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty. 

 A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard. 

 Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought. 

 She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer. 

 "You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch. 

 The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down. 

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

 "BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys. 

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

 Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

 The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked. 

 Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

 Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk. 

 "Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good. 

 He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse." 

 She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.  

 "All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

 She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

 It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

 "No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. 

 "And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

 "No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question. 

 It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers. 

 Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity. 

 It was not. 

 With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

 "So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk. 

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

 She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

 He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

 "Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

 The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

 "Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

 "My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

 She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

 "Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

 "I just might."

 They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself. 

 "STEVE!"

 The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross. 

 A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times. 

 "I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York." 

 Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

 The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

 "Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

 "Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

 The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

 Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him. 

 "So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them. 

 Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw. 

 "Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

 "Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

 He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air. 

 "Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

 "Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

 The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit. 

 "Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them. 

 "Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

 "Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

 "What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

 "What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

 Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really. 

 Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. 

 "How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending. 

 She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

 They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other. 

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

 "Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

 "What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident. 

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

 She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent. 

 "Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her. 

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

 "El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

 Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

 "You have no idea what I said."

 "Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish." 

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

 "I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland." 

 Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

 Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

 Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

 The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing. 

 She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes. 

 "Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

 "We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder. 

 She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly. 

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

 She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

 "Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now. 

 She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements. 

 "Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night.  We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

 "Oh, I don't know…"

 "Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

 She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought.  "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

 "It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

 "Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house." 

 "A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

 He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

 "They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

 She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx. 

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

 "Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

 "Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

 "I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

 She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

 Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room. 

 She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there? 

 Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself. 

 *****

 Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

 "Elana!" 

 At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long. 

 "You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

 "Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

 Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

 "Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin. 

 "That's a high standard."

 "Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better. 

 There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore. 

 When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced. 

 It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in. 

 The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there. 

 "Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor. 

 She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place. 

 "Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

 "Ah, vino?"

 He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting. 

 She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

 "Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it." 

 She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

 He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

 "What would you rather be doing?"

 "Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

 "You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it. 

 "I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

 Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

 "If you like."

 Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly. 

 "Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood. 

 "Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

 With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious. 

 He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her. 

 "You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

 So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor. 

 Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free. 

 Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her. 

 "Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him. 

 "I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh. 

 Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

 "Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist.  "Did you draw something, Steve?"  

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

 He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners. 

 "Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled. 

 Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

 "May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

 The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

 Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

 "Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

 "Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?" 

 The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

 With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces. 

 She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

 They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm. 

 The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana. 

 "You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above. 

 "Ruby, we-"

 "No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

 Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in. 

 "I want her here. She's my date."

 The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

 Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

 She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time. 

 "Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently. 

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

 "Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back. 

 "Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

 Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see. 

 The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene. 

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

 "Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special. 

 And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight. 

 It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral. 

 "Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

 Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.  

 "Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

 "She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

 "Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

 The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  "Was it only dancin'?"

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

 "You ditched some other girl for her once before."

 His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

 Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

 Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

 "What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

 "Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

 "You know what, Rogers!"

 Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

 "Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

 "Yes, Bucky."

 "Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again. 

 "Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.  

 She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

 "Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve. 

 She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

 "Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

 Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

 "I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

 Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street. 

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

 She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said. 

 "Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

 "I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

 "Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

 They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.  

 "Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

 "Me too." She confessed. 

 "Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door. 

 Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

 She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

 "Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis. 

 With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle. 

 But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night. 

 For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before. 

 He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck. 

 "Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp. 

 "Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

 She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth. 

 "Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!" 

 All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun. 

 "Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them. 

 Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it. 

 When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

 What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue. 

 Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens. 

 In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms. 

 He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run. 

 "That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped. 

 He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

 She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

 "Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

 She giggled and nodded. 

 This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven. 

 His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity. 

 She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive. 

 Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong. 

 For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

#marveldiversitychallenge #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky/ofc #bucky fic #Steve Rogers #Hispanic!ofc #POC character #40s!steve #40s!bucky #40s! #1940s #mzwrites

[imnotrevealingmyname]

When A God Gets Lost

Chapter 1

Summary: There are bad ways to travel; then, there are terrible ways to travel. Teleporting to another dimension through the Æther is the latter, apparently. But as the old Bengali adage goes, even tigers will eat grass when they're starving.

Maybe a Midgardian from a different dimension isn't such a bad travel companion after all.

Author's note: This is my submission for the @allaboardthereadingrailroad 's Marvel Diversity Challenge. The OFC is an Indian- a Bengali, more specifically.

Tags: @what-just-happened-bro @is-it-madness @myraiswack @green-valkyrie @teenagereadersciencenerd @ohdearhiddles @whatafuckingdumbass @poetic-fiasco @mrs-wolfhard @your-favourite-skittles @lehuka123 @kellatron55 @shiningloki @latent-thoughts @outlawangel2020 @loki-yoursaviourishere

Warnings: Gore, mild violence, mentions of death.

Loki had known this would come to pass. He had known what he had signed up for, when he'd agreed to accompany Thor to Svartalfheim.

He'd even welcomed his own death.

At the time, the sweet prospect of release had seemed to be a gift from Valhalla.

So he hadn't tried to stop it from happening.

Except, he had.

Blood dripping from his mouth, Loki struggled to let go of strings of seiðr desperately anchoring him to his body.

Dust settled on his mottled blue skin. His ears were ringing, and blacks spots seemed to have been tattooed into his retinas.

If not for the pain, Loki would've laughed at the irony of the situation. Once again, despite all his orchestrations, he was a helpless spectator, strung tight while instincts battled brain.

White hot pain seared his entire body, radiating from the wound to his extremities, as he fought to make the tendrils of seiðr retreat. Unfortunately, it was tied to his genes, bound intricately to the essence of his consciousness. It kept him from slipping into the much anticipated slumber, tightening its hold exponentially.

Numbly, Loki thought of all the times he had heard people talk about life flashing before one's eyes before the final rest settled in.

Loki saw nothing, however. The only thing that passed before his eyes was the dreaded vision of violet sparks of seiðr curling around his own, slowly drawing his life force from him.

The salt of his tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. This helplessness was something he had vowed to never fall into, ever again. But here he lay, defeated yet victorious, in a veritable stream of his own blood, fighting the very instincts that had brought him thus far in life.

Odin, Frigga, Thor… Asgard. They had all taken everything from him, everything he had ever treasured. Self worth, family, his very identity…

Loki had hoped that he could find it in death. Who he really was.

But no, he had been stripped of that luxury, too. Not once, not twice… several times. Twice at his behest, and several times at another's, humiliated and agonized.

Maybe I should stop fighting.

But that wasn't who he was. Loki may not have known who he truly was, but he knew what he wasn't. He had never been one to stop fighting.

But what am I fighting for? Will this right my transgressions? Their transgressions?

Maybe sometimes… to stop fighting was to land the ultimate blow.

Gasping for breath, pain ripping his innards to shreds, he looked down at his midriff. There it was; his seiðr. The only measure of identity he had left. It was flowing from his fingers, from his mouth, weaving between his wounds, holding him together in every sense.

Loki's head fell back as he gave in to it, letting his instincts take over.

He didn't know how much effect his seiðr would have, but seeing as he couldn't do anything about it, apparently…

Unfortunately, he had underestimated the power of his own magicks. Seiðr, in every form, was sentient in its own right. Unbeknownst to Loki, continuous exposure to two infinity stones had affected his own magic in several subtle ways. Seiðr learns from itself and grows- he had learnt this even before he knew how to speak complete sentences.

Never had he thought that magic of such cosmic levels could mingle with his own.

Until he saw a few straggling fragments of the Æther hovering around his limp form.

In its urgency to revive him, his seiðr had drawn the Æther to itself, having turned into something resembling a magnet for cosmic powers.

To his horror, the bloodred fragments of the Æther clustered around him, forming a small tornado of dust and seiðr, swooping in to throw an eerie light over him.

The light only grew in intensity. The pain was lessening- his body was almost completely numb now. Wind howled in his ears, and flashes of green and red blinded him.

Satisfied with its work, his seiðr rose to greet the Æther.

Loki had been completely pinned to the ground. He struggled to look down, and saw that the wound had healed almost all the way through- enough to let him survive.

Immediately, he tried to draw back the seiðr. Enough damage had been done, he didn't need any more adventures.

The seiðr had other ideas, apparently.

Green and red danced together, shimmering and singing a shrill, haunting tune that rattled Loki to the core, producing a stab of pain in his gut.

Oh. His seiðr could only do so much. The spear that had impaled him must've been poisoned…

Which meant that his control over his seiðr was limited, and it knew it.

And thus, it was trying to regain strength by sapping it off the one of the most dangerous entities in all of the Realms.

Unlike normal seiðr, the Æther- as well as the other Infinity Stones- needn't be bound to an individual. They had their own separate existence.

Loki didn't even want to know what might happen if it bound itself to him.

Unfortunately, the velocity of the mingling magicks was growing, forming a pitch black void above him.

Fuck.

A sound of surprise and shock was the last thing that left his mouth before he was sucked into the vortex.

A deep rumble ran through the entirety of Svartalfheim when the dust settled- almost as though the Realm heaved a sigh of relief.

----

Aakshya's head hurt. Half an hour on the Arambagh local train with two three year olds bawling their lungs out less than two metres away could do that to anyone.

The last few days weighed down on her. It was all so surreal. Her last living relative- the last one she had been on good terms with, anyway- was gone.

Aakshya sighed softly, adjusting her glasses as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. It wasn't surprising, not really. Her great aunt had been quite aged, but losing her was still a blow she wasn't quite prepared to deal with.

At least here, she could mourn in peace.

The Chandur forest had always been her happy place. After very long weeks at work, she had a habit of spending the weekend in a small resort here, sometimes. It was just quiet enough to help her recuperate.

The resort was still half an hour away. She decided to take her time today.

The sky was darkening, and she could see the moon through the spaces between the canopies of the trees.

The moon seemed larger today. Or maybe that was just the tears in her eyes.

She sped up a little, a prickly feeling spreading over her nape.

Were the trees rustling a bit more than usual? No, that must've been the wind… right?

Aakshya stopped dead in her tracks, clutching her bag tightly.

To her right, someone stumbled in the dark, groaning deeply and uttering a string of incoherent words in a language she couldn't recognize.

Maybe it was just the owner of the resort... Though why would she be here? Wouldn't she be at the resort itself?

"Sukanya Di, tumi?"she called out timidly. "Tumi ekhane ki korcho?" Is that you, Sukanya? What are you doing here?

She whipped around, frightened.

The sight that greeted her eyes was unnerving.

A blue-skinned, armour-clad man, covered in blood, was half sprawled on the ground, chest heaving as he struggled to rise.

The weirdest thing was that he was surrounded by red and green light that seemed to be trying to enter his body.

Aakshya stumbled backwards- but then she yelped when the man's hand shot forward and grabbed her upper arm, preventing her from fleeing.

"What is this place?"he rasped, using her as support to pull himself up to full height. Aakshya's eyes widened- he was over a foot taller than her, and he seemed to have been impaled clean through his chest.

Judging from the blood, the wound was fresh; but it was already closing in front of her eyes.

What in the world-

"I asked you something, mortal,"he snapped, shaking her a little. It affected his balance, apparently, because he swayed dangerously, catching himself by steadying himself against a nearby tree.

"Are you- is this some kind of a prank?"she squeaked, trying to pry his fingers off of her.

The man growled, and then coughed up a little more blood. "Answer the bloody question, girl."

"Earth, we're on Earth,"Aakshya managed, now fighting to get out of his hold. "Unhand me, you-"

If the fact that a man who had been impaled quite recently was stronger than her was a matter of concern, it didn't strike her then, as she attempted to scratch and bite him. The man merely grunted in annoyance, retaliating by giving her another shake.

"You're lying,"he snarled. "This cannot be Midgard."

"I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Unless… no…" He seemed to be speaking to himself now, though his scarlet eyes were on her.

It was completely dark now, and Aakshya was in the hold of some creep in a forest.

Well, I'm fucked.

----

Loki couldn't believe how bad his luck was. His chest stung with every laboured breath, and the Æther was still swirling around him, and now he had been transported to a different dimension.

He could feel it.

Which meant…

There were two of him in this dimension alone.

Oh, fuck.

Meanwhile, the girl was still trying to free herself from his grasp.

Loki gave her a crooked grin. "Looks like you're stuck with me now."

She gave him a look of outrage. "No, I-"

"What's your name?"

She seemed to quell under his gaze. "Aakshya."

"Pretty name. I'm Loki, God of Mischief and Father of Magick."

Aakshya scowled, trying to hit him. "Look, if this is some weird cosplay thing, I'm really not in the mood-"

Loki sighed, using the dredges of his seiðr to still her. "Girl, I've been impaled with a poison tipped spear and thrown into a different dimension, so I'm not in the mood for your tantrums."

Her eyes bulged with rage and she tried in vain to bite him.

"How about you and I go on a nice little walk, hmm? I can sense your loneliness and heartache, girl. I am very perceptive,"Loki said with a small smirk. "I can help you, if you help me. What say you?"

"I say you're a dangerous, senile man who's a bit too obsessed with mythology,"Aakshya spat, struggling to move.

Loki laughed softly. "Oh, but a little danger never hurt."

#loki #imnotrevealingmyname #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki smut #fanfic #fanfiction #tw death #gore #blood #fix it fic #marveldiversitychallenge

[vibing-and-writing]

Suavemente

A/N: hello beautiful ppl!! i hope you’re all doing well!! here is my submission for the #marveldiversitychallenge hosted by @allaboardthereadingrailroad. i know i’m a couple days late but school has been really annoying ;-; i hope you enjoy and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!! edit: i forgot to mention my prompt was “Are you stupid or stupid?” which I put in bold. thanks sm

Summary: When Tony organizes a team-building exercise at a Salsa studio, Steve doesn’t know what to expect. Shenanigans ensue. 

Latin!Reader X Steve Rogers 

It had been an established tradition that once a month, everyone who was free that called themselves an Avenger had to participate in what Tony had dubbed “team-building activities.” Steve thought these were fun, like the time they played laser tag or when they went to that pottery place and the team made mugs. These team activities were always the time where they could relax and do something fun, ignore the weight on their shoulders. A time to spend time together without bad guys around every corner. So when Tony walked into the boardroom, he wasn’t too worried. 

The meeting starts off like any other, updates on other regions, a call to the Guardians, the usual. Near the end of the meeting, Tony stands confidently in front of the projector after a pause. “Set the mood FRIDAY,” he says, his face conniving and too cheerful. Very loudly, FRIDAY plays a Spanish song, one he’s definitely heard but doesn’t know the words to. 

Suavemente, bésame!

Te quiero sentir tus labios,

Besándome otra vez. 

Steve’s eyes widen a bit, his mind running through the different activities. Glancing around him, Steve looks at the team’s various reactions. Bucky seems a bit taken aback but not surprised, Nat looks like she knows where this is headed, and Sam is already dancing in his chair. Vaguely shimmying to the beat of the song, a mischievous smile pulls on Tony’s lips as he raises his voice over the music. “We’re going to a Salsa class. Spiderboy, Wanda, Pepper, and Vision are going too. You can thank Sam for the idea. Be ready by 1:30, I booked an hour and a half” Before anyone can say anything, Tony shimmies his way out of the room, the music fading with him. Sam looks around the table excitedly, hopeful his friends like his idea. His eyes practically glow with happiness. “Make sure to wear workout clothes, y’all. Y/Ns gonna make you work,” Sam says, his voice almost mischievous. Steve lets out a defeated sigh, accepting his fate of stepping on many toes and struggling to keep up. Thinking back, Steve was never the dancer, and even less now with the change of music over the decades he’d been in the ice. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try, especially if Sam was gonna be watching, poking fun at him the whole way through. Bucky gives a nod, a small smile on his lips. “So this is where you spend your days off,” Bucky says like he should’ve seen this coming. Sam gives him a smirk as he gets up and grabs his jacket. “How do you think I got these thighs,” Sam replies, gesturing towards said thighs, barely contained by his jeans. Steve lets out a chuckle, chancing a look at Natasha. Grabbing her laptop, her smile is warm but challenging. “I’m gonna dance you into the floor Wilson,” she says, confident in her dance experience. Sam lets out a laugh, his tone just as confident and challenging, “Are you stupid or stupid? I’d like to see you try.” With that, they leave the boardroom together, the faint sound of Spanish music filling the Tower until they all pile into a car and drive to the dance studio. 

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

Getting out of the car, Steve can still hear Bucky and Sam bickering, though the parking lot seems deserted save for a few cars. Steve doesn’t know what to expect. Especially since he’s never been a dancer, and knows less about Latin culture, something he only got educated on when he was in the 21st century. As someone who was always in control, this was very new. But nonetheless, he walked into the studio behind Sam, Bucky, and Tony with Pepper on his arm, with Peter, Nat, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind. The first thing that catches his eyes is the glass case full to the brim with different trophies and medals. The studio’s walls were floor to ceiling mirrors and a front desk area near the entrance, with a door that led to what Steve assumed was a locker room. “Y/N, your favorite Avenger is here!” Sam called into the empty studio. The locker room door opens, and Steve couldn’t stop his blush from spreading if he tried. The woman, who he guesses is Y/N, walks out confidently, her arms outstretched to hug Sam. She is stunning, to say the least, her brown skin glowing under the studio’s lights. Her hair is in a slicked-back puff, donned in a simple muscle tank and leggings. And she’s wearing red lipstick. “It’s always the lipstick,” Steve can hear Bucky teasing in his head. “Just because you’re my student doesn’t mean you’re my favorite Sam,” she replies, her voice teasing but fond. Steve feels Bucky nudge him with his arm, breaking him out of his obvious ogling. Releasing from the hug, Y/N turns to the rest of the group. “I’m Y/N, incase Sam didn’t give it away, and I’ll be your instructor today.” Steve feels his heart skip a couple of beats at the prospect of getting to stare at you for the next hour, though his pathetic dance skills will probably kill any chance he has with you. Steeping on someone’s toes wasn’t the best way to make a first impression. In a fight, Steve was light on his feet and agile, but fighting was very different from dancing. Plus his experience with women isn’t exactly the best and he would probably break one of your toes before getting your number- He suddenly felt all eyes on him and a long silence. Blinking, Steve notices you looking at him, your hand outstretched. If Steve wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now as he stuttered. “I- I’m sorry what did you say?” 

Looking at him consideringly, you awkwardly retract your hand. “I was asking if you wanted to be my partner for this class.” Steve can hear Natasha and Bucky holding back their laughter behind him, and Sam just looks as smug as ever. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be a very good partner. I’m probably the worst dancer here.” Steve replies, laughing nervously and rubbing his neck with his hand. Your face lights up in understanding before walking closer to him. You grab his hand and usher him closer to the front of the studio near a laptop and speaker set up. “Which is exactly why you should be paired with me, Captain Rogers. You’ll learn better if you’re with me. Plus, I’m used to students stepping on my toes.” Your voice is resolute as you hold him by the hand, grouping up the other team members as you fiddle with the music. Steve can’t help but feel like this is set up as he looks between your hand grasping his and his teammates, all looking various stages of smug or suggestive except Peter, who just looks happy to be there, and Vision, who is just staring at Wanda. Grouped in partners, Natasha is with Peter, who actually has experience with salsa he found out, Sam is with Bucky, both noticeably not looking at each other, Tony with Pepper and Vision with Wanda. 

Looking at the other groups, you start to explain the starting position and the basics of salsa without the music. “Normally, the taller of the pair will lead with their right and the shorter will lead with their left.” You seem to think for a moment before you continue your explanation. “While salsa is meant to be danced in pairs, the lead is the one who guides the dance.” Gently grabbing Steve, you place your left hand on his shoulder and hold his hand with your right. Before Steve can form a thought, you start to slightly move him by the shoulder, using your weight to push him. “When you lead it is very important to use your body weight. Even a dancer with no experience can dance well if they have a good lead.” Most of the group is either trying to hold back their imminent laughter or they’re too busy trying to ask questions so you continue to use Steve as a test subject. You either don’t notice or ignore them as you run over to the speaker, start the music, and go back to Steve. “Can I do a quick demonstration?” you ask him, and it was really unfair because there was no way Steve could say no.  Steve nods slightly, and before he can blink you shoot off like a rocket. You push him into a spin to the right, a turn to the left, another spin, and Steve can only see vague flashes of movement as you move around him fluidly. You almost leave him dizzy, until you finish, letting him fall gently into a dip. Steve opens his eyes, not realizing he closed them, and is greeted by your face inches away from his. His face erupts in a blush as you stare at each other, your breath only slightly labored. He can vaguely hear applause and Sam complaining about not getting to dance with you before you let him stand upright. You let out a small laugh before looking back at Steve. “I hope that wasn’t too bad Captian,” you say, your hands fidgeting with your muscle tank. Steve can only open and close his mouth repeatedly before just replying, “Wow.” The team and you laugh a bit and his blush continues to spread down his neck. “Well, we won’t be doing too many spins today, but I hope that was fun for you.” Steve laughs lightly, his hand coming behind his neck. “Well I- it was a lot of fun. Felt like a rollercoaster.” Your smile widens as your laugh rings through the studio, and Steve tries not to think how nice it sounds before you turn to the rest of the team. 

You seem to get back into a professional element, letting go of Steve’s hand to help out the other pairs, especially Buck and Sam as they bicker over who should lead. Coming back to the front of the studio you grab Steve’s hands and get into the starting position. Reaching behind you, the music streams from the speakers. Leaning into Steve, you talk to him over the music. “I’ll lead for now Captain Rogers,” you say, your voice almost teasing. Steve can only nod jarringly, before replying shortly, “Steve is fine.” You nod in acknowledgment before addressing the rest of the pairs. “We’re going to start by doing the basic salsa step, just forward and back,” you say as you demonstrate. Steve stands trying to follow your instruction, his hand clammy against yours. Everyone nods before you start counting the beats and doing the basic step. 

The rest of the class goes on without incident, and Steve is proud to say he only stepped on your toes twice. The team seemed happy as well, the couples very comfortable with dancing and lots of laughter coming from Pepper on Tony’s behalf. The rivalry between Nat and Sam got squashed very quickly because Sam was too busy bickering with Bucky, and Nat was trying to make sure her and Peter’s hands wouldn’t stick together. Wanda and Vision seemed the most peaceful, though it seemed they were staring at each other more than actually paying attention. Bucky and Nat kept sneaking teasing glances at him, especially if you used him as another demonstration, your hands landing on his waist or vice versa. By the end of the class, the team was tired but pleased. Everyone was joking around and laughing, so much so that Steve could almost ignore the blush that had coated his cheeks for the past hour and a half. Saying their goodbyes, Steve went to give you a handshake, but you held his hand for a moment. Your eyes lock for a moment before you look back at your intertwined hands and take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be too forward, since we just met and all, but I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime? Not dancing but maybe dinner-?” 

“Yes,” Steve interrupts. You both let out surprised laughs, Steve’s free hand going to rub his neck, a nervous tick you’ve noticed. Both of you are thoroughly flustered and whipped for each other already, Steve found it hard to imagine how he could’ve said no. You let go of his hand, happily running towards the front desk to grab a pen and piece of paper to jot down your number. As you write down your number, you hear a thump against the window of the door of the studio. There stand, very squished together, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha, looking very pleased. Out of your peripheral, you can see Steve trying to shoo them away. “I’m sorry about them,” he says, his voice only half upset. You smile at him and gesture back at the trio. “I’ll have to get used to that if I want to keep you, right?” Steve laughs, his smile lighting up the studio. “Yeah, but I’ll get them to leave us alone somehow.” You nod in affirmation, the trio finally trickling away from the door as they notice their position has been compromised. Handing the paper to Steve, you lead him out of the door, the afternoon light making your skin glow. 

“I’ll talk to you soon Captain,” you say, leaning in to give Steve a kiss on the cheek before closing the studio door. Steve might’ve convinced himself the kiss happened, except for the red lipstick stain on his cheek and the hollering of his friends a few feet away from him. As Steve walked away, his friends trailing behind, he knew he had a great feeling about you, and he couldn’t wait to find out more.

#marveldiversitychallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #avengers imagine #x reader #avengers x reader #avenger x reader #latin reader #captain america #captian america x reader #steve rogers fluff #marvel fluff #Avengers #avenger fluff #fanfic #idk what else to tag

[barnesandco]

Go for Gold

Bucky becomes seriously affected by an Olympic athlete during his time at the Summer Olympics in Tokyo, and makes a desperate attempt to get to know her better.

This is my entry for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ ‘s #marveldiversitychallenge. My prompt was the song Swimming Pool Summer by Capital Cities.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

Warnings: Blushy Bucky lol.

A/N: Whitney, thank you so much for providing this opportunity to write characters we are not so familiar with, allowing us to expand our horizons and crucially, working to make this space more inclusive for people of color. It was an amazing initiative to take and I’m so glad I participated (albeit a little late -- sorry)

This is also a wishful glimpse into the Olympics we never got this year.

Tokyo is a cornucopia of sensory overstimulation, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky is glad for it. It’s like the Stark Expo raised to the power of ten, the bright lights of the city and its signs mingling with the bright jerseys worn by fans. The streets are packed with sound and celebration, and his only guide grounding him is the heat he feels along his right side, where Sam walks beside him.

Pressed together, shoulder-to-shoulder, his brother in arms is today a brother in merriment and sports enthusiasm, as they make their way to the swim hall for the next event on their list. The women’s 50 meter freestyle. Bucky feels like he’s floating, cheeks aching while he listens to Sam talk about childhood dares that forced him to brave the cold waters of the cleanest part of the Hudson he and his cousins could find. All the while, the beat of a Xhosa chant from a crowd of South Africans syncs with his heartbeat and he inhales deeper as they pass a samosa cart.

Bucky doesn’t mention working at the docks and witnessing kids decades before Sam complete the same challenges; it’s too grandpa-ish an anecdote. Not that Sam would really notice, not right now, at least. Captain America has fallen silent, his focus on the swim hall, big, brown eyes bright in the cerulean light reflected from the water below.

He snaps out of it, out of that youthful glee at another item crossed off the bucket list, as they sit down. “Hey, how are you feeling?” Sam asks, once they’ve settled down, and they have time to breathe for themselves, and not to inhale all the amazement that surrounds them.

Bucky smiles. “Couldn’t be better,” and that’s all he has time for before the swimmers are walking out and the crowd is cheering behind him and he is fixated on one, particular Olympian. Your posture encaptivates Bucky, because you stands like you are ready to dive. 

You enter the water like Bucky does his apartment, with a sigh of relief at being home. It is transfixing to see someone return to their element, and some egotistical part of him wonders if he looks anywhere near as ethereal as this swimmer. Only your head and shoulders are visible now, brown skin shimmering in the reflection of the water, and you tuck your swim cap tighter on your head the same way Bucky does his gloves before battle. Your face gleams with determination set in steel.

And then there is only quiet, and the gentle lapping of ripples against the pool walls, and everyone holds their breath. The starter pistol fires, and you’re off. Bucky’s eyes follow you and only you, your grace unparalleled by your lithe movements, like a knife through butter, and moments stretch into hours that are over all too soon.

But then Sam is screaming next to him. There’s something about a world record and the audience is on its feet behind him but he sees only you. You hoist yourself out of the pool, beaming brighter than the sun. A towel is placed around your shoulders and you laugh exuberantly when your coach whispers something in your ear as she hugs you. The sound imprints itself into his mind with the intensity of a magnesium flare, and with it, Bucky is a complete and total goner.

-----

He does not stop thinking about you. Can’t help it, even when he and Sam have attended two more events and he has had dinner and Sam has left for bed. Something tugs him to the water. 

The sun has long set and the velvet blanket of night has drawn itself over the sky, tucked neatly into the corners of the horizon where he can see Tokyo spilling over the edge of his view. The city’s size is doubled by the calm reflection he can see from Hinode Pier, and he finds himself sitting on a jetty, above water pitch black save for a cluster of fireflies nearby. 

There are steps behind him, and he tenses, more so when he sees the reflection in the water. It’s you, your posture and height unmistakable.

“Hi, mind if I join you?” You ask, and he stands to pretend he didn’t notice you earlier. The smile dancing like waves on your face tells him you’re not fooled, and he thinks the heat rising to his face surely won’t help, either. 

“Of course.” 

You sit down, and he follows, and the line holding your shoulders so tightly eases as your legs swing over the water. The fireflies look like fireworks -- magnesium flares -- in your eyes. An ease washes over you as you graze the bottom of your sneakers over the surface of the water.

“Congratulations,” Bucky says after a while, and you close your eyes and laugh, rub your eyelids with the heel of your palms.

“Thank you,” you say, removing your hands from your face, using them to gather your braids back and at your neck again, laughing again. “Sorry,” you say, shaking your head, and he wonders why. “I just can’t believe it. A world record.”

Your laughter is contagious and addictive, and Bucky tries to elicit more of it, toeing the line of your acquaintanceship delicately. “I was talking about the medals you won today, but yeah, congratulations with that, too.” It works. You smile, this time directly at him, and he can’t breathe with the full strength of your beauty directed right at him.

Tilting your head, you ask, “You watched me race? Were you rooting for me?” You joke back, but Bucky nods seriously as he considers your question.

“I wasn’t going to root for anyone because I don’t know the first thing about swimming, so it was as impressive as flying to me,” he begins, and thinks about how he really should be used to flying considering who his best friend is, “but I saw you in the 50 meter today and, well, I’ve always cheered for the winning team. Wasn’t going to change that now,” he says.

Your eyes flit between both of his, and the warmth emanating from you is enough to combat the chill of the night near the water. “What about not knowing anything about swimming? Are you willing to change that?” You ask and Bucky looks at the water below, and his face, intrepid, staring back in the dim light.

“Why not?” He says with a shrug, and you grin a starlight smile back at him, and then stand to pull a swim cap out of your hoodie before taking it off, leaving you in a sports t-shirt and yoga pants. The water splashes onto him as you dive off the jetty, and Bucky watches you giggle as you break the surface and come up for air, gesturing for him to join you.

The water is probably cold, but you’re in it, and he removes his windbreaker too, joining you more hesitantly. The waves welcome him, lapping over his t-shirt and he’s glad he’s wearing the synthetic skin today, so that you can be just two strangers, without the weight of your reputations tugging at you.

You cup your hands around your mouth as you paddle backwards and call, “Let’s just warm up,” and Bucky follows in a clumsy breaststroke, as you take off.

His breath is releasing in pants and the jetty is a thin line in the distance, his body warmer by the time you stop. There is no sand beach or wood pier here, only a small stretch of marshland. The cattails sway gently in a slow breeze behind you, and you look happier than you did in the pool, your eyes glimmering.

“You need to move your arms like this,” you say, and demonstrate steps that Bucky then mimics, but you shake your head and move closer. Your hands hold his arms gently, moulding his movements to look less like he is hacking at the water and more like he is pushing at it to propel himself forth. 

Voice low, as if imparting secrets, you speak softly in his ear and are kind in your corrections. Once satisfied with his technique, you ask for him to swim beside you, and begin to move back towards the jetty you came from. 

The air is calm, and then his stomach growls loudly, prompting another peal of laughter from you, as he laughs nervously. “Didn’t you have dinner?” You wonder.

“Guess the swimming worked up some more appetite.”

Treading water, your head and shoulders bob up and down, as do his, and a new affection blooms as each of your circular ripples meet. “You wanna go for a midnight snack?”  

He thinks about what has brought the two of you there, a restlessness, a soulful ache for something unnameable. The night has ended in a way he did not expect, but he is better for it, and hopes you are, too. Something is blooming, with all the soft elegance of cherry blossoms and the deep understanding of hearts resonating with each other. Something he wants to see grow further and take root. He needs to know what your favorite food is, what it took for you to get to where you are, what you like to do in your free time. 

Bucky wants to see more of you you, this version of you, the athlete away from the competition, the woman in her element, the teacher with a student, because he is drowning in all of you, so he could not be any happier to answer: “I’d love to,” and have you smile like the Pacific Ocean, wide and warm and welcoming, in response. 

#marveldiversitychallenge #ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff

[nekoannie-chan]

New blood part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mexican! OFC (Laura Eréndira Ríos Téllez) X Brock Rumlow

Word count: 817 words.

Summary: A strange creature has attacked in the City, Steve and Brock will have to solve the case, but they will need Eréndira's help, however new feelings will awaken on the team.

Warnings: Mentions of some cryptids, some dialogues are in Spanish but have their translation.

A/N: This is my entry to the @allaboardthereadingrailroad​‘s Marvel Diversity Challenge with the Television prompt #1:

“True Blood”

This fic is a True Blood AU also Steve and Brock are vampires.

Eréndira can read minds and auras.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum 

“¿Has visto las noticias? (Have you seen the news?)” Cecilia asked Eréndira.

“¿Sobre el ataque del supuesto chupacabras? (About the attack of the alleged chupacabras?).”  

“Si no fue eso, entonces no sé qué otro...ser pudo haber sido (If it wasn't that, then I don't know what else... could have been.).”

“Estoy segura que es algo más (I'm sure it's something else), “Eréndira said.

“No lo sé desde los vampiros decidieron hacer su existencia pública… (I don't know since the vampires decided to everyone know about their existence...).”

“Día de muertos está cerca, pudo haber sido cualquier ser, los vampiros no son los únicos que existen (Day of the Dead is near, it could have been any being, vampires are not the only ones that exist)," Eréndira interrupted her. 

“¿Por qué estás tan segura? ¿Cómo lo sabes? (Why are you so sure? How do you know?),” Cecilia questioned.

“Pues…simplemente yo sé cosas. Por cierto, ¿puedes apurarte a comerte tu pastel?, quiero irme (Well... I just know things. By the way, can you hurry to eat your cake, I want to go).”

“Nunca he entendió porque te molesta tanto estar en lugares públicos… (I've never understood why it bothers you so much to be in public places...).”

"If you know how annoying it is to listen to other people's thoughts and that when there are too many people it is very annoying," Eréndira thought as her friend kept talking. 

Almost half an hour later they left the cafeteria, it was already dark, they hadn't even noticed the hours they were at the place, they were walking through the Alameda Central, just at the time they passed in front of the Palacio de Bellas Artes when two men, one with blond hair and the other with black hair caught Eréndira’s attention, she couldn’t perceive any thought or see his auras, something in them was different, she knew, not to say that they ultimately seemed foreign to her. They also turned to see her at the same time.

 A few hours later Eréndira turned off the TV since she got home she saw several films, it had been an overwhelming day to be in touch with so many people and read so many minds, it was not something she did on purpose, she just couldn't help it, not to say she had never told anyone about her "skills", she knew what people would do, she preferred to avoid problems.  

In her mind reappeared the men she had seen as they made their way to the subway until the sound of the bell startled her. When she opened the door she took a big surprise. 

"Hi Eréndira, don't you invite us in?” Brock asked in English. 

"We didn't want to interrupt you a while ago when we saw you," Steve said. 

"What? First of all, I don't know who you are, second, how do you know my name, where I live and I also speak English? Third: why do they come after midnight to my house? Fourthly: you're not human, what are you?”

"We work at S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm Steve Rogers and this is Brock Rumlow, we need your help, but if you have any questions you can talk to our superior," Steve replied, handing her a card with Fury's information. 

Eréndira looked hesitantly at the card, a few seconds later took it with notorious mistrust and dialled the number, and the call lasted about ten minutes. 

"Okay, your boss confirmed everything you told me, but there's still one question left: what are you?” 

"Isn't that obvious? We are vampires," Brock replied, about to lose patience. 

"Oh... I don't have True Blood...”

"Don't worry, we drank some before we came here," Steve assured and Eréndira sighed. 

"You can come in," after Steve and Brock sat in the Eréndira room, she continued. “I don't understand how I can help you.” 

"You can help us with our case, my dear," Brock replied, giving her some documents. 

Eréndira reviewed the paperwork for a few minutes, she had a lot of questions, but she knew she probably wouldn't answer them, for the first time in her life she was a little disappointed that she couldn't hear what was going on inside their heads.

“The Mexican section of S.H.I.E.L.D. is the one who should take this case... “

“There have been some problems, they said it had probably been a chupacabras, but the evidence shows us that it wasn't, Steve explained. 

"In 2014 it was the last sighting of one, there are many cryptids, and it could be a cadejo or a nahual, anything," Eréndira replied. 

"That's why we need your help, we think you're the right person," Brock said. 

"I don't understand why me, we're more than 124 million Mexicans, why me?” 

Brock and Steve saw each other and smiled, it wasn't time to tell her the truth yet, but they needed her to solve the case. 

#marveldiversitychallenge #steve rogers x ofc #brock rumlow x ofc #steve rogers x ofc x brock rumlow

[eves-library]

How to Lose a Man in Ten Days AU//Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader Latina!Reader

Chapter One: The task

Summary: In the hopes of saving her friend’s love life from being publicly exposed Y/N takes on the task of writing about her love life while leaving her out of her article. 

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: Mention of breakup and some stereotyped characters (?)

PSA: PLEASE READ First I want to thank @allaboardthereadingrailroad for the opportunity of participating in her Diversity Challenge. I gotta admit I haven’t read a lot of latina!reader or mexican!reader. This was not only a challenge for me to write but I took it as a chance to read stories with that certain type of reader too. The reason I haven’t read too much of these reader inserts is that I don’t always feel identified with the way latina!readers and mexican!readers are portrayed. This is my version of a reader I feel identified with being a Mexican girl. I still left the reader mostly uncharacterized, but there are certain hints here and there that are a telltale for the reader’s background and culture. It will be more evident as the series progress. Finally I just want to say that I took the decision of writing the reader this way because I believe we cannot encapsulate a certain type of girl just by mexican or latina, we share a nationality and culture, yet just by changing states (here in Mexico) traditions change and sometimes the difference is a lot. 

A/N: I’ll be posting a chapter every 3 days. Enjoy

Y/N finish tipping on her computer as Natasha read over her shoulder, “With not only families being torn apart but human beings being treated like animals, the question of immigrant laws being changed should not be a question but a pressing matter.” Y/N turned to look to Natasha as she finished reading, “What do you think Nat?” Natasha gave her a smile and a shoulder squeeze, “I believe it is one hell of an article and I would print it in a heartbeat, but I am not Lana and she will never print it.” With a defeated sigh and her face falling, Y/N saved the document and closed the tab, “I can’t believe I busted my ass to get a master’s in journalism at college just so I could be ‘Y/N How’? Maybe mom was right and I should have not left home.”

Y/N turned her chair completely so she could look at Natasha face to face as Natasha leaned on the bearly there wall that separated their cubicles, “I think you should send some of your work to a big new’s paper, I’ve told you hundred times,” Natasha said to Y/N and before the girl could say anything in her defense, Mandy or “Mantis” as she liked people to call her popped her head next to Natasha on the division of the cubicles “Ladies, don’t forget we have a staff meeting in thirty minutes!” she said softly and as suddenly as she had appeared she disappeared, Natasha was the first to speak up in a low tone so not to be heard by anyone but Y/N “How does she always manage to sneak up on us!” and once again before Y/N could speak up Mantis appeared, “Don’t forget to bring all your good vibes and ideas!” she pipped in before she left for good, prompting both Y/N and Natasha to laugh. 

As their laughter died Y/N stood up looking around the office of cubicles “Have you seen Wanda today?” Natasha turned her gaze directly to Wanda’s cubicle and found it empty of her things, “No, I don’t think she has arrived yet,” Y/N looked at her wristwatch and sighed, “Okay, it is my turn, you go get us a coffee.” Y/N went to grab her coat and purse and as she was making her way out of the office Natasha called for her, giving her a bag with samples, and Y/N grabbed a dark red jacket from a passing cart of clothes used for photoshoots. 

Y/N arrived at Wanda’s apartment in less than 10 minutes, she knocked on the door two times before Wanda finally opened up, a small fake smile on her face which lasted for two seconds before tears started streaming down her cheeks once again, “Oh sweetie, come here, what happened?” Y/N questioned as she stepped in and hugged her friend, Wanda sniffled and cleaned her tears before speaking as she let Y/N walk inside her apartment. “Vision, he broke up with me last night!” Wanda said as her eyes filled with tears once again. 

Y/N walked in to check the state of the apartment, and just like Wanda, it was a little disheveled, especially the area where the couch was and where Wanda had been watching rom-coms and eating icecream. Wanda then walked past her and directly onto the couch but before she could lay back down again, Y/N grabbed her arm pulling her in the direction of her room, which Wanda did, only protesting a little before Y/N finally asked, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry but you can’t let a guy get you fired at work! Come on, I promise after we are done at the office we’ll come back and watch all the rom-coms you want I’ll even get you my grandma’s special hot chocolate you like so much!” Wanda’s eyes glinted at the prospect of Y/N’s offer. 

Y/N went through Wanda’s closet getting a pair of tight black dress pants and a loose black blouse that will look great with the dark red jacket she had brought from the office, and as Y/N was looking for the perfect heels to go with the outfit Wanda plopped down on the bed, “What is wrong with me Y/N? Why doesn’t anyone wants me?” Y/N turned around and took a seat next to Wanda on the bed letting Wanda rest her head on her shoulder, “Listen to me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are a beautiful, talented, successful woman, that when she falls in love she does it fast and deep. Sometimes that scares men, which makes it their loss because you, my dear, are a great catch, and you’ll find a catch too.” 

Wanda smiled softly up at her and Y/N gave her a squeeze before getting up, “Now get dressed! we have fifteen minutes before the staff meeting starts, and I’ve brought samples!” Wanda chuckled and in less than five minutes the two of them were on their way back to the office, Wanda finishing her light makeup on the taxi cab. 

The two of them arrived at their building with three minutes to spare, time enough for the elevator ride up. They met up with Natasha at the doors and each took a cup of coffee. As they were making their way into the building Natasha asked what happened and Wanda told her Vision had broken up with her, “Did he gave you any explanation?” Natasha asked and Wanda let out a long sigh, “Just the same, it was not me, it was him, but I really thought he was the one you know?” Natasha turned to look at her with skepticism “Wanda, you dated the guy for a little over a week!”

Wanda blushed a little over Natasha’s comment, “Maybe… but I just had a feeling you know?” Both Y/N and Natasha chuckled at Wanda’s expense and Wanda blushed harder. Y/N shrugged and send a wink her way, “It’s okay Wanda, it’s only that your heart loves easily and lightheartedly if guys don’t know how to realize that it is on them.” Wanda smiled at her and they soon arrived at Lana’s office, everyone taking their place around in the couches and seats.

Lana entered the room at last and her authority voice boomed around the place, “Good morning family! Shoes out everyone!” Y/N turned to her right to see Wanda and Natasha sitting down and taking their shoes off as Y/N did the same. Once everyone in the office was settled, either on a couch or the floor, Lana spoke again. “How are we doing for this month’s number?” Mandy was the first to raise her hand, going on about an article on plastic surgery and how it ruins people’s life “it is kind of gory but surprisingly… optimistic.” Mandy ended with a smile on her face, Lana went on asking everyone in the room and suddenly it was Wanda’s turn, who had an off look on her face, probably still thinking of last night’s events with Vision. 

Natasha nudged Wanda lightly just to bring her attention back to the meeting at hand and Lana kept on looking at her expectantly “I’m sorry Lana I had a bad night,” she started and Natasha explained shortly, “She got dumped.” Wanda turned to glare at her and Natasha mumbled a silent “Sorry” Wanda turned her look back at Lana with an embarrassed and sad smile on her face. Lana smiled at her with a surprisingly empathetic look before she spoke “I’m so sorry, isn’t it sad everyone?” She asked and everyone in the room started nodding and mumbling soft “sorrys.” Lana then looked down at the notebook on her lap before she spoke again “Write about it, and get it off your chest” Wanda turned to look at her and started protesting “Lana I’m sorry but I can’t do that, it is my personal life!” Lana looked up and smiled again “Of course, you’re right,” and she looked around the room “Who wants to write about Wanda’s love life?” 

Wanda was so shocked by the lack of empathy her boss was showing that she just opened and closed her mouth trying to figure out a way to protest and then a hand was raised, Mandy enthusiastically asked for the opportunity “Great, you’ll do it, Mandy, what’s next?” Lana said and Wanda finally spoke up, “I’m sorry Lana but I can’t let Mandy write about my personal life!” Natasha and Y/N had been watching everything unfold before them and suddenly Y/N had an idea, “I’ll do it” she said and Wanda turned to look at her as if she had stabbed her in the back and Y/N continued “I won’t write exactly about Wanda, but she’ll be… my inspiration.” Y/N said and Lana was intrigued, she made a sign with her hand motioning for Y/N to continue, “Look at Wanda, she is a beautiful and strong woman, yet she has trouble keeping a relationship,” Wanda looked confused and a little bit hurt, Y/N mumbled a silent “Sorry” her way before she continued “So… I’ll write about the common mistakes girls like Wanda make when they first start dating,” Lana considered it for a moment before she spoke, “I like it, yeah, you’ll date a guy and then lose him.” Y/N nodded trying to work for a title “Yeah! I’ll call it ‘The Common Mistakes of Dating…?’”

Lana stayed silent for a couple more seconds “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days!” Lana noted it down on her notebook and was about to move on when Y/N asked “Sorry Lana but why in ten days?” Lana turned to look back at her “Well five days is too little of time and we print in eleven days, so it has to be done in ten days.” Y/N nodded and the meeting went on.

#MarvelDiversityChallenge #Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader #Bucky x Mexican!Reader #James Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader #Mexican!Reader Insert

[nekoannie-chan]

New blood/Nueva sangre masterlist

New blood (English version/Versión en inglés)

Summary: A strange creature has attacked in the City, Steve and Brock will have to solve the case, but they will need Eréndira’s help, however new feelings will awaken on the team.

Part I

Next part will be avaible in 2022-2023

Part II

Part III

Part IV

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

Nueva sangre (Versión en español/Spanish Version)

Sinopsis: Una extraña criatura ha atacado en la Ciudad, Steve y Brock deberán resolver el caso, pero necesitarán la ayuda de Eréndira, sin embargo nuevos sentimientos se despertarán en el equipo.

Parte I

Las siguientes partes estarán disponibles en 2022-2023

Parte II

Parte III

Parte IV 

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

#marveldiversitychallenge #steve rogers x ofc #brock rumlow x ofc #steve rogers x ofc x brock rumlow #Annie writes #Annie's writes

[nekoannie-chan]

Nueva sangre parte I

Pareja: Steve Rogers X OFC mexicana (Laura Eréndira Ríos Téllez) X Brock Rumlow

Palabras: 666 palabras

Sinopsis: Una extraña criatura ha atacado en la Ciudad, Steve y Brock deberán resolver el caso, pero necesitarán la ayuda de Eréndira, sin embargo nuevos sentimientos se despertarán en el equipo.

Advertencias: Menciones de críptidos.

N/A: Este One-shot es mi entrada para Marvel Diversity Challenge con el tema de televisión #1:

“True Blood”

Este es un Universo Alternativo de True Blood, Steve y Brock son vampiros.

Eréndira puede leer mentes y auras.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @black23​ 

— ¿Has visto las noticias? —Cecilia le preguntó a Eréndira.

— ¿Sobre el ataque del supuesto chupacabras?

—Si no fue eso, entonces no sé qué otro...ser pudo haber sido.

—Estoy segura que es algo más —afirmó Eréndira.

—No lo sé desde los vampiros decidieron hacer su existencia pública…

—Día de muertos está cerca, pudo haber sido cualquier ser, los vampiros no son los únicos que existen —interrumpió Eréndira.

— ¿Por qué estás tan segura? ¿Cómo lo sabes? —cuestionó Cecilia.

—Pues…simplemente yo sé cosas. Por cierto, ¿puedes apurarte a comerte tu pastel?, quiero irme.

—Nunca he entendió porque te molesta tanto estar en lugares públicos…

«Si supieras lo molesto que es escuchar los pensamientos de los demás y que cuando hay demasiada gente es muy molesto», pensó Eréndira mientras su amiga seguía hablando.

Casi media hora después salieron de la cafetería, ya había anochecido, ni siquiera se habían dado cuenta de las horas que estuvieron en el lugar, iban caminando por la Alameda, justo en el momento en el que pasaron por enfrente del Palacio de Bellas Artes cuando dos hombres, uno de cabello rubio y el otro de cabello negro le llamaron la atención, no había logrado percibir ningún pensamiento ni ver sus auras, algo de ellos le llamó la atención, sin contar que en definitiva le parecieron extranjeros. Ellos también voltearon a verla en el mismo momento.

Unas horas después Eréndira apagó el televisor, desde que llegó a su casa vio varias películas, había sido un día abrumador al estar en contacto con tantas personas y leer tantas mentes, no era algo que hiciera a propósito, simplemente no podía evitarlo, sin contar que nunca le había contado a nadie acerca de sus “habilidades”, sabía lo que la gente haría, prefería evitar problemas.

En su mente volvieron a aparecer los hombres que había visto cuando se dirigían hacia el metro hasta que el sonido del timbre la sobresaltó. Al abrir la puerta se llevó una gran sorpresa.

—Hola Eréndira, ¿no nos invitas a pasar? —Brock preguntó en inglés.

—No quisimos interrumpirte hace rato que te vimos —dijo Steve.

—O sea, primero: no sé quiénes son, segundo: ¿cómo saben mi nombre, donde vivo y que también hablo inglés?, tercero: ¿por qué vienen después de medianoche a mi casa?, cuarto: no son humanos, ¿qué son?

—Trabajamos en S.H.I.E.L.D., yo soy Steve Rogers y él es Brock Rumlow, necesitamos tu ayuda, pero si tienes dudas puedes hablar con nuestro superior —respondió Steve entregándole una tarjeta con los datos de Fury.

Eréndira miró dubitativa la tarjeta, unos segundos después la tomó con notoria desconfianza y marcó el número, la llamada duró cerca de diez minutos.

—De acuerdo, su jefe me confirmó todo lo que me dijeron, pero aún queda una pregunta: ¿qué son?

— ¿No es obvio? Somos vampiros —respondió Brock a punto de perder la paciencia.

—Oh…No tengo “True Blood”…

—No te preocupes, conseguimos unas antes de venir aquí —aseguró Steve y Eréndira suspiró.

—Pueden pasar —después de que Steve y Brock se sentaron en la sala Eréndira continuó—. No entiendo como puedo ayudarlos.

—Con nuestro caso, querida —respondió Brock dándole unos documentos.

Eréndira revisó la documentación durante algunos minutos, tenía muchísimas preguntas, pero sabía que probablemente no se las respondería, por primera vez en su vida se sintió un poco decepcionada al no poder escuchar lo que pasaba dentro de la cabeza de ellos.

—La sección mexicana de S.H.I.E.L.D. es quien debería de llevar este caso…

—Ha habido algunos problemas, ellos dijeron que probablemente había sido un chupacabras, pero las evidencias nos muestran que no fue así —explicó Steve.

—En 2014 fue el último avistamiento de uno, hay muchos críptidos, podría ser un cadejo o un nahual, cualquier cosa —respondió Eréndira.

—Por eso necesitamos tu ayuda, creemos que eres la persona indicada —dijo Brock.

—No entiendo porque yo, somos más de 124 millones de mexicanos, ¿por qué yo?

Brock y Steve se vieron y sonrieron, aún no era momento para decirle la verdad, pero definitivamente la necesitaban para resolver el caso.

#marveldiversitychallenge #steve rogers x ofc #brock rumlow x ofc #steve rogers x ofc x brock rumlow

[barnesandco]

I just read half of Nikah and I loooveeee it! ur talented af bestiee :) I was wondering would you do another bucky fic where the reader is Muslim or desi and maybe it could be like she joins the team and is enhanced or something. Idk just a thought <3

I, too, have lots and lots and lots and lots of thoughts about enhanced Desi+Muslim reader and I really really really want to write more but finals are kicking my ass so until then, I won't be able to act on any of that. Please pray that exams get cancelled so I am set free.

In the meantime, I'd like to rec @revengingbarnes and @vennilavee bc I know they have some amazing desi stories. Also, please check out the masterlist for @allaboardthereadingrailroad 's MarvelDiversityChallenge (it's pinned on my blog) bc there are lots of great stories representing readers from various backgrounds!

Thank you so much for reading Nikah, I hope you enjoy the rest!

Nikah

#ayesha answers