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#police!steve rogers
runa-falls · 2 years
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summary: Officer Rogers pulls you over for speeding
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pairing: police officer!steve rogers x reader
(side ransom drysdale x reader)
rating: explicit 18+ (broh i stg if you’re under 18 imma block u -.-)
warnings: SMUT, PIV sex with clothes on, public sex, misuse of power? (idk wtf), creampie (big emphasis on this), dirty talk, poly relatioship lowkey, second degree cuckhold lmao
word count: 2.3k
A/N: had this idea when I was going to meet a fwb only to be outrageously disappointed by the outcome (the fwb meet up not the fic lmaoo). needless to say, I needed this fic. also i absolutely did not read what I wrote cuz im crazy like that. thank you. amen.
masterlist
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Wind rushes in from either side of your car, the sound almost deafening against the pounding music booming through your speakers. Your foot pushes down on the gas, unaware–and frankly, uncaring–of the speed you’re driving, just wanting to get to your destination as soon as possible.
You got a text that your best friend-with-benefits just got home from a business trip and wants a welcome home gift. You hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks, so you were understandably excited to oblige to his requests.
It’s an unusually cool night, so the dark streets, lit only by sparsely placed overhead lights, are graced with thick clouds of fog making it hard to see far ahead of yourself.
As you zoomed past an empty intersection, you hear the heart-stopping noise of a siren followed by the dull bloom of flashing blue and red lighting up the interior of your car through the back window. Fuck, you look down at your speedometer, wait, you’re only sixty-five in a fifty-five zone. Why are they stopping you?
You carefully veer off the road and stop in front of a forest of trees, making haste to yank out your license from your wallet. This certainly isn’t how you expected tonight to go.
If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontations with police. Even when you haven’t done anything wrong, they scare the fuck out of you.
The officer slowly parked behind you and took his sweet time pulling himself out of his car. Based on the way he swaggered over to your window, thumb hanging from his equipment buckle, he was cocky and knew who held the power in their situation.
You wait in your seat patiently, trying to keep your body from shaking in anticipation. The tiny pink skirt you’re wearing rides up your thighs, making your nervous hands pinch and pull them down, stretching out the fabric. You weren’t expecting to have to interact with anyone except Ransom tonight, least of all a police officer.
Your knee bounces when he knocks on the side of the door, announcing his arrival. You look up and have to crane your neck to meet the officer’s deep steel eyes. He gazed back down at your trembling figure, tongue sticking out to wet his lips.
“Good evening, ma’am, license and registration, please.”
“Here, sir.” You keep your voice short and sweet, hoping to get through this without a scratch. You hand him your card and paper, watching as he takes a good while looking over them. You see the name ‘Rogers’ etched onto a metal button placed on top of a navy blue pocket. He stops his scanning and looks up at you with an unsatisfied look on his face.
“Do you realize how fast you were driving tonight?” His head is tilted to the side as he asks the question. He looks down at you with an air of condescension, eyes taking note of your outfit. “Have something important to get to?”
“Just visiting a friend, sir.” You squeak out a response, feeling the weight of his stare. His eyebrow raises at your answer.
“Hm…I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.” Your eyes widen, hands shaking as you unbuckle yourself from the seat. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you slowly step out of the car. Officer Rogers casually holds the door open with an arm, barely giving you any room to stand up in front of him.
“Um…what seems to be the pr-” Before you knew what was happening, he forcibly turns you around and pushes the front of your body to the dewy coolness of your car. A gasp is pushed out of you from the aggression of his actions.
You squeak out a whine as your arms are pulled behind you and held by his hand wrapped around both wrists. He tsks at your pathetic sounds of pain.
“You don’t ask the questions here, sweetheart.” You can feel his warm breath against your neck as he speaks roughly into your skin. “Had a rough day and you’re gonna help me feel better. How does that sound, princess?” You give him a stuttered nod, barely able to move your body from the way he pushes into you.
His rough hand glides down your back, tracing each ridge of your spine before squeezing your ass through the thin cloth of your skirts. His close proximity against you fills your mind with his cologne and a faint taste of cigarettes. “You going to see your little boyfriend in this get-up?”
“He’s not my boyfriend-”
“Ah…so you spread your legs for all your friends?” Your eyebrows furrow at his degrading words. You push back against his body, trying to escape his hold but he doesn’t even flinch at your actions. He teases the end of your skirt then changes his mind and pushes both of your wrists to either side of your head against the window. Your breath fogs up the glass, blurring the only reflection of him you could see.
“I mean, you’re letting me do all this to you. Must really be a cock hungry slut, huh?” He leans his hips against you and pushes your legs apart using a booted foot, letting you feel his hardness against your soft body. You melt against him and he becomes the only thing holding you up.
“What would he think if you showed up with a full pussy, limping all the way to his doorstep?” He cooed into your sweat-stuck neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin until he sees purple.
Your back is forced to arch away from him, shoving your hips into his. He flips over the back of your skirt and admires the ruined white panties that barely cover your skin. You’d look so innocent if you weren’t panting for him. He gives you a small pinch, watching as your body jumps at the feeling.
You feel two warm fingers press against your cunt and slide up to your clit. The cloth moistens from your leaking slick and you feel Officer Roger’s hum vibrate against you at the feeling. “I’d love to continue this but I need your hot cunt around me.” You hear the sound of ruffling fabric and the jingling of metal cuffs behind you.
Hot skin presses against your thighs and he prods at your clothes center insistently. Your hair is swept to your shoulder to expose your neck more openly for him. You feel him tug your panties down and let them hang right over your knees, just enough to situate himself at your entrance.
“Baby is so creamy for me…” You let out wordless sounds, desperate to get filled as he uses his head to spread your essence and watches it drip down your leg.
You feel the indescribable pressure of him stretching you open. He pushes in slowly, forcing you to feel every ridge and vein as he goes. Your chest breathes out a moan as you push back against him, frustrated by the slowness of his pace, just wanting him deeper inside of you.
He snaps his hips in quick spurts in response to your greedy behavior, not stopping even as your breaths turn into sharp gasps. “Not very patient are we?” He pushes your face into the window, smashing your flushed cheek against the cooled glass. You hear the squelching of your wetness magnified with the sound of bare skin slapping against each other. It makes you delirious.
Your grip on the car starts to slip as your palms sweat from the intensity of his ministrations. The ghostly streaks run down the glass and disappear as quickly as they arrive
He spots your falling form and lets your wrists go to turn you around to face him. His hands raise to the sides of your face and he pulls you in for a kiss and you almost fall from the intensity of it. His tongue caresses yours, drinking you in as your body squirms against his. You promptly kick off your panties before you’re picked up by the hips and forced to wrap your legs around him for support.
Your back is slammed back onto the metal behind you, and a population of goosebumps explodes from the sudden temperature change against your bare skin. He quickly returns himself into your warmth, holding you up like you weigh nothing.
His rhythmic grunts catch every time he bottoms out into you, stabbing your spot over and over again. His ruthless focus on hitting the bundle of nerves inside of you provokes hot tears down your face.
Rogers watches the stream of dark mascara travel down your chin and into the deep cleavage of your hidden black lace push-up. He loves it when you cry. You lean your head back, taking in the dark starry sky and letting out broken moans.
“You gonna let me fill you up, honey?” You look up at him with glassy eyes, nodding frantically. Your arms hold on to him tighter as his pace speeds up, grabbing you to trust yourself back onto him. As your bodies are pushed closer together, your clit slides against him and you see white at the combined pleasure. You clench around him, so close to your release that you can barely decipher where you are.
He grunts against the feeling of your tightness, struggling to continue his actions. You feel him stutter and throb inside of you. “Fuck princess, you’re so tight for me.” Your chest rises rapidly as white pleasure takes over each of your limbs and blanks out your mind. Your warmth flutters around him and he lurches forward at the feeling, strokes becoming slow yet firm.
You feel his hot cum gush inside of you before you heard his strangled groan. He fills you to the brim, producing a handful of small thrusts until he’s forced to lean his weight against you.
You hear his hum as he pulls out of you, setting you down to stand with your back to the car. Your legs are shaky as they recalibrate to support your weight again. You watch as he swiftly pulls up his pants and relatches his belt of assorted tools onto his figure. He spots your white underwear on the floor and crouches down to scoop them up.
“You won’t need these tonight.” He shoves them in his front right pocket and gives you a smug look, admiring your disheveled form. Your cheeks are flushed and stained from your pleasure-filled tears. You bite your lip waiting for his next move.
“Thanks for the help, baby. You just made my day a whole lot better…You can get back into the car now” He didn’t make a motion to move out of the way, so you scooted yourself around him, and got back in, still in a daze from what just happened.
You squeeze your knees closed, hoping you wouldn’t leave a stain on the car seat. Officer Rogers closes the door for you and uses his arm to lean against it.
“Be a good girl and don’t speed on the way, okay, honey?”
“Yes, sir.” You beam a smile at him and start your car. He pats the car before turning to walk back to his, still sporting the arrogant walk he came up to you with.
You pull up to Ransom’s ridiculously windowed house, quickly taking a look at your appearance in the car mirror. You were taken aback at the makeup running down your face and the fluffy state of your hair. Your fingers run through your hair and wipe under your eyes. That would have to do for now, you’re already late.
You see him as soon as you open the car door, waiting in front of the house. A lit cigarette burns in his sweater-clad hand as he sends you an irritated look, obviously waiting for your arrival longer than he’d like to. You send him a sheepish smile, walking with your legs slightly closer together than usual to keep everything inside of you.
“And where have you been?” He takes a puff from the cigarette and lets it blow out of his nose as his eyebrow raises in question.
“I got pulled over on the way here…” You mumble out, knowing he doesn’t really care for the answer.
“Oh yeah?” He flicks the cigarette to the ground and it lands right next to your shoe. You put it out for him as he wanders closer to you, taking in your puffy pink lips. “He punish you again?” You give him a small guilty nod.
He walks inside the house, expecting you to follow him. You see him settled on one of his crazy expensive armchairs. He beckons you closer with a finger and pats his lap. He always knows how to make you feel like one of his little pets. Small and insignificant.
You follow his wordless instructions, draping your body over his legs to let him have a good view up your skirt. He sighs as he places his hands on you, missing the softness of your body.
“Let’s see the damage he left this time…” He drags a warm hand up your thigh and reveals the present that Steve left for him. You were a mess down there, your reddened cheeks contrast nicely with the splattered white cum in and around your cunt. “What was it this time? A broken tail light, loud music?” You softly shake your head.
“Speeding.” He hums in acknowledgment, spreading your combined slick around and pushing back inside of you. You can’t help but moan at the rough way he handles you.
“He always pulls this shit when he knows I’m back. Can’t let me have you to myself.” Ransom grumbles in frustration, eyes not leaving your weeping pussy. “Think you can go again anyway, baby?” A grin pulls at your lips and you nod with newfound energy.
“Yes sir, anything for you.”
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amarriageoftrueminds · 7 months
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*points originally in a tag-dump under another post about* Bucky's goodness + Steve's belief in him 
+ the fact that the superserum worked on Bucky is empirical proof of his goodness:
+ this is also why the serum worked on Isaiah Bradley. + imagine if Isaiah had been made the Winter Soldier instead
Seriously it's a pretty eye-opening thought exercise to put any other character in Bucky's place and see just how poorly he's treated.
Do people really think Steve would hear about a man who had the same magic ‘only works on good people’ juice as him, tortured and enslaved by Hydra for decades… and then just NOT help him?
imagine if you had Sam saying 'Steve this 'Isaiah' guy he's not someone you save he's someone you stop.'
Nat saying 'Steve I know this matters to you but let the police handle Isaiah someone will arrest you if you interfere, it will inconvenience us all.' (LOL Nat have you met Steve who wrote this)
Sam agreeing, 'maybe Nat's right maybe we shouldn't bother helping Isaiah against the police in case they shoot at us,' and dismissing the fact that Isaiah could do good: ‘1945, maybe.’ 
When Isaiah was the guy that pulled Steve out of the river?
(And meanwhile the CIA have given police, that Nat and Sam are telling Steve not to interfere with, orders to shoot Isaiah dead on sight? quelle surprise)
Steve would still be arguing that it should be him to bring Isaiah in, since he's least likely to die trying. 
He would still have put taking down the Insight helicarriers first, and been reluctant (but willing) to dislocate his arm for that very important reason. 
He would still have lifted up the steel beam pinning Isaiah down
(and probably still tried to talk him out of his mind-control, even if he failed.)
imagine if everyone (Sam, Nat, Steve, Sharon, etc.) saw Isaiah -- when mind-controlled -- suddenly demonstrating a drastically different personality
and imagine if Steve and Sam saw Isaiah waking up with amnesia.. then proving his memory of his good, non-WS personality... but Sam was still rude/hostile to Isaiah anyway, insisting he and Steve should not be ‘cool' with him (then telling Isaiah he hates him). 
Tony saying 'I don’t care that Isaiah was mind-controlled he killed my mom imma murder him just to spite you for not trusting me not to murder people.'
imagine if you had the therapist telling Isaiah he needs to be monitored by the state to prove he’s not giving into his innate violence, giving him rules to follow like a child, (and he’s pardoned, not exonerated, meaning he had to admit to crimes he wasn’t responsible for in order to get a modicum of freedom) and that it’s bullshit to suggest Isaiah just wants some peace
Ayo telling Isaiah 'you are free' 😌 as he finally escapes his bondage, watching him cry with relief, then: ‘SIKE! we put a booby-trap in ur limb the trust was a lie.’
Sam cracking jokes about Isaiah's trauma, dehumanizing him as a killing machine 
taking part in a plot where Isaiah has to pretend to be WS, be sold to another human being, and have rape jokes cracked about him, 
but then still being like 'listen Isaiah if you really want to apologise f̶o̶r̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶l̶a̶v̶e̶  you should just do the work.' 😔
*event horizon voice* DO YOU SEE? DO YOU SEE?? 😬
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faeriecap · 5 months
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what the hell is this???? did marvel authorize this bullshit??
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ir0npvrker · 2 years
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tony: where are my fucking keys?
steve: language!
tony: may i ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?
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evilhorse · 8 months
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Captain America #170
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moghedien · 2 years
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I am adoring the dynamic of Cap’s Kooky Quartet because it’s just Steve being like “ah finally a peaceful night to relax” and as soon as he sits down he gets a prison phone call from Wanda, telling him that she, Pietro, and Clint have been arrested again because breaking into someone’s house and attacking them is technically illegal even if they’re a super villain apparently
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mywingsareonwheels · 2 years
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So we know that Fred Thursday was based in North Africa and in Italy during the Second World War. We know that he was promoted to sergeant at some point during it, and that a lot of what he did was hush-hush. We know that he worked with some Italian rebels against the Nazis.
So I see absolutely no reason why he and his company didn’t sometimes join forces with the Howling Commandos. It would seem pretty likely in fact.
Also we know that by the start of Endeavour he is noticeably anti-homophobic. And call that partly having grown up in the East End and partly just general having been in the army at that time, and being extremely anti-fascist for all the obvious reasons. But I imagine it would also help if, e.g., he’d got to know Capt. Steve Rogers and Sgt. Bucky Barnes actually quite well (especially the latter? all protective NCOs together ;-) ) and had observed precisely what was going on there. :D The “deaths” of each of Steve and Bucky would have hit him hard.
And now if Steve’s found a lot earlier than in the MCU - early 70s, say? - and through the means of Oxford academics so he ends up in England, and if the Winter Soldier is thus sent after him a lot earlier...
Anyway. I don’t have the time or spoons to start on that crossover any time soon, but in case anyone would like it. ;-)
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foreversecrets · 1 year
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Home Invasion
Rogers Family Expansion
Paring: Andy x Aria
Summary: Wrapping up their blissful honeymoon its time to return to reality and sometimes reality sucks.
Sunlight entering through the window woke Andy, he looked to the nightstand to see the time, 7:28 am. They still had about 30 minutes before they needed to wake up to head to the airport and eventually home. He rolled over to see his new wife a mess of hair and drool, sleeping hard and snoring. The comforter kept her decent but her bare shoulders were on full display, revealing a few hickies from the efforts of them enjoying their honeymoon. 
“I can feel you staring at Andrew.” her voice was thick with sleeping and the only indicator she was awake as her eyes remained closed. 
“Can you blame me? I married a fiery goddess.”
“We are already married, you don’t have to butter me up.”
Andy scooted closer, slipping an arm under her to pull her closer to himself and nuzzled his bread into her neck. Her eyes finally opened to gaze on the sexy man practically clinging to her. 
“As your husband, it's my duty to overwhelm you with affection and compliments.”
“Don’t we need to get ready to go?” she playfully batted him away, deterring his efforts to initiate morning sex. 
“It's only 7:30.”
“And we both need a shower,” she slipped from his grasp, Andy chasing after her but she dodged him and jumped out of the bed just out of his reach. “Care to join me Mr. Barber?”
He didn’t need to be asked twice, he sprung from the bed locking his lips on hers as they moved together into the restroom, only breaking enough to start the shower and get in. 
By the time the newlyweds exited the shower it was a mad dash to pack up and catch their uber. The time crunch pressured a familiar feeling for the both of them instead of being a hindrance as they navigated together through TSA and finding seats in front of their gate for the flight home. 
“I saw a Starbucks not too far off,” Andy started dropping his carry-on into the seat by his wife. “I’ll go grab us some coffee and a snack to tide us over until we get back to New York.”
“Thank you!” Aria gave him a quick kiss then settled in with their belongings to await Andy’s return. 
She’s only apart from her husband for maybe five minutes, long enough for her to text the rest of the Rogers Family chat informing them of the beginning of their journey home. Opening her solo chat with Deli getting ready to call her best friend turned sister-in-law when she hears her name. Looking up she finds her ex-boyfriend, Johnny heading straight for her. Before she can say anything he has made himself comfortable in the seat Aria had reserved for Andy, and kisses her cheek.
“What are the odds?” 
“Highly likely, considering our careers and we initially met at an airport.”
“How have you been?”
“Great!” She nods, holding up her hand. “I got married, I’m actually wrapping up my honeymoon today.” she tried to be very clear with her display of happiness but she should have known better. Johnny had always been self-absorbed, he didn’t care how his actions impacted others, didn’t care if someone was unavailable, even when they had been dating. His dick doing all his thinking resulted in her ending things when she found him in bed with another woman. 
“Yeah, I saw in the papers you’d settled for a lawyer.” he brushed off, leaning closer to her, Aria leaning back but she hit the bar of the chair. 
“I didn’t settle, actually. I finally locked down the guy I’ve been in love with since I was a kid.”
“Are you heading back to New York?” He ignored the clarification.
Carrying 2 cups and 2 bags of goodies back over to the gate, his eyes landing on his wife looking extremely uncomfortable as she speaks to a gentleman in his seat. He adds an extra pep in his step, the idea of being her knight-in-shining armor. As  he approached he picked up enough to determine Aria knows the man and he is currently trying to slide his hand under his wife’s skirt despite her hands firmly pressing it down as firmly as she could. 
“Coffee and a breakfast sandwich, dear.” Andy handed her the items and turned on the man pouring out his hand in greeting to the man. “Andy Barber, Aria’s husband.”
“Johnny Storm, Aria’s ex-boyfriend.” Johnny shook Andy’s hand clearly trying to have a piccing context, one Andy wouldn’t entertain because he’d already won.
“Well it's nice to meet you but would you mind?” Andy motioned to the seat Johnny was currently occupying. “I’ve been up all night and would love to get a little rest.”
Johnny looked to Aria who was trying to be angry with Andy for the implication but her smile was just too fucking big. Johnny was hoping she’d ask him to remain but she didn’t. “It was good to see you Johnny.”
Huffing the man takes off and Andy sits in his seat ignoring his beverage and food to check in on Aria. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just awkward you know?” she chuckles, easing into a relaxed posture. “It was kinda sexy watching you politely put Johnny in his place though.”
Andy smirks, “Then you should come to work with me.”
The rest of their journey home is uneventful but by the time they get home they are both exhausted and end up sleeping for 18 hours. they’d planned to have 3 days to recuperate at home before returning to work specifically to get back into the swing of things and readjust to the time zone. But the morning of their second day back they were woken by someone pounding on the door. Andy slept through it but Aria couldn’t so she got up, covered in Andy’s robe and went to answer the door. 
Who she found, rendered her speechless. The previous Mrs. Barber stood enraged with her son clinging to her hand. 
“You fucking slut!” Laurie dropped Jacob’s hand and lunged at Aria, tackling her to the floor and wrapping her thin hands around Aria’s throat. “You stole my husband!”
Jacobs crying rings out as Aria rolls them over so she's on top of Laurie, restraining her as she coughed trying to suck as much air into her deprived lungs. 
“What the hell is … Laurie?” boxer clad Andy rushed into the entryway, his wife immediately jumping into his arms, her breathing still laboring but she wasn’t struggling anymore. His eyes and hands roaming over her looking for injuries and explanations finding redness around her neck but otherwise seeming alright. 
“You left your family for a fucking whore!” Laurie roars at Andy trying to lunge for Aria again but Andy pulls his wife behind him, his body acting as a wall of protection. 
“Baby, call the police.” Andy instructs Aria pushing her towards their bedroom while he halts Laurie. He notices an older looking bruise on her hairline and he worries that maybe she isn’t all there, perhaps she’d become a victim of domestic abuse and was just looking for assistance. He is able to calm her down long enough for the police to arrive and take her and Jacob.
Chatting up the police he learns Laurie had been admitted into a wellness center last year after getting into a car accident with Jacob in the car. Her husband had been granted full custody when surveillance footage showed she purposely crashed the vehicle. Since the accident her memories had been spotty and she’d been diagnosed with several mental disorders. The theory being she’d seen the news articles about Andy and Aria’s marriage on Jacob’s tablet when he’d been visiting her and it triggered this episode. She’d broken out of the facility, kidnapped Jacob, drugged her husband, and ended up on Andy’s doorstep. 
“Do you want to press charges?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The couples answered in unison, Andy looking to Aria softly. “She’s not well, what will pressing charges do?”
“She tried to kill me, Andrew!” Aria snapped in anger and hurt reading all over her. “This will at minimum get me a restraining order.” 
“She is mentally unstable.”
“Which means she’ll have no problems repeating her actions and what’s to stop her from succeeding next time?” her voice rising in tone and emotion. “Are you ready to be a widow?”
“Aria just stop! Do you hear yourself?” You want to make a clearly broken person have an even worse quality of life?”
“What I want is peace of mind,” she looked at the office. “I was the one assaulted and I’d like to press charges.” Before the office leads her away to take her statement she looks brokenly at her husband. “What I want is for my husband to protect and defend me but it's clear now, I’m not the priority.”
“Don’t do that! Not everything is about your petty insecurities!” 
He’s too angry to care about the hurt he sees in her eyes but the fight is put on pause as she steps out to give her statement. How had the bliss of the past two weeks ended in their first fight as husband and wife? And how hadn’t he noticed the lack of compassion in his wife? Aria ends up needing to go to the hospital for a full examination to go along with the charges, Andy doesn’t even see her off when she leaves. Purposely giving her the silent treatment knowing that is the harshest thing he can do, daring her to disagree with him.  He’s home alone for two hours before his sibling arrives. 
“Where’s Lady?” Ari asks.
“At the hospital giving her statement.” Andy informs. 
“Is she alright?” Steve asks.
“You must have some restraint not to have killed Laurie.” Curtis praises. 
“Why would I have done that?” Andy asks, outraged.
“She attacked your wife,” Curtis explains, confused. “I’d have done worse for less if it was Chloe.”
“Laurie isn’t mentally sound.” Andy argues.
“Even more reason to protect Aria.” Lloyd sighs. “People like that are unpredictably dangerous. Imagine what would have happened if you didn’t wake up.”
It's the first time someone has said something to make him believe he is the one in the wrong in this situation. “Aria was fine, she’d already restrained Laurie by the time I got there.”
“This time, what if she’d had a weapon, she would have clearly pulled the trigger far before you could get to Aria.” Ransom explains. All the brothers turn to look at him, he shrugs. “I’ve become paranoid since we brought the twins home.”
Andy watches as Bucky has to step away to answer a call from Deli, not sure what to say. He knows his wife hates violence and Laurie had managed to do some damage before Aria restrained her, but if Laurie had had a weapon, he wasn’t convinced his wife would still be alive. 
“So you think Aria is right to press charges against a mentally ill person?”
“Andy, tell me you didn’t go against your freshly attacked wife to suggest otherwise?” Steve asked, genuinely afraid for his brother.
Andy's silence was answer enough. 
“I’m going to miss Aria.” Lloyd sighs. 
“What do you mean?” Andy snapped standing up.
“You can’t possibly think your marriage will survive this.” Ransom remarked. 
“Your wife was attacked, wanted justice and you embarrassed her for wanting that after you failed to protect her and then instead of supporting her, you sent her off to the hospital alone.” Curtis laid out evenly. 
Bucky returned to the group, a few articles of Aria’s clothes in his hands. “Aria is alright, doctors gave her something for the pain and Deli’s monitoring her now. She apparently has a mild concussion.”
“She called you?” Andy asked. His heart squeezing tightly in pain, his vision getting dizzy at how accurate Lloyd’s comment of divorce was becoming. 
“No, Deli. Once the police took her statement Aria called Deli … she doesn’t want to come home.” Bucky lifted her clothes as an explanation and cleared his throat awkwardly. “She-”
“She doesn’t feel safe with me?” Andy growled.
“She doesn’t want you to think she’d be over dramatic or have you convince her to change her mind. She was granted a temporary restraining order.”
“This is ridiculous! I didn’t blow things out of proportion when her ex showed up.” Andy snapped.
“There it is,” Ari sighed. “You feel responsible for Laurie.”
“Aria is my wife.”
“And as your wife, you’re supposed to support her, you don’t contradict her in public.” Lloyd mused as if that was a lesson he’d learned the hard way with Jewls.
“But I still think Aria is right in this, Laurie tried to kill her tonight and she brought her son along to do it.” Ari state.
“Regardless of her mental state, Laurie scared Aria.” Steve says softer.
That comment finally broke through to Andy who turned to Bucky barely holding back tears. “Does she have any injuries?” 
“No, the doctor said the bruises around her throat should fade in a day or two.”
“Laurie shouldn’t go to prison, if anything Aria will be granted a full restraining order and Laurie returned to the wellness center.” Lloyd explained. “So technically you're both going to get what you want.” 
“That is if you can fix this,” Steve sighs standing up. “Call if you need anything.”
Everyone but Air and Andy leave. Andy couldn’t look at his little brother knowing what a big supporter Ari had always been for him and Aria despite his close friendship with his wife. Even when Deli was firmly refuting them. He wasn’t confident in his stance now but it was far worse imaging her lose Aria, Ari, or Deli. It felt like every step forward he and Aria made they’d take a yard back ward. And then in the midst of their disagreement, he’d invalidated her emotions, something he’d previously had to combat against when pursuing her romantically. Andy poured himself some scotch and got comfortable on his couch, still not looking at his brother. 
“I can’t vouch for you if you keep making stupid choices.” Ari sighed. “You got a plan?” Andy shook his head. “How about this, admit you were wrong, that in your sleepy state you failed to see her perspective.” 
“I’m not sure I’m wrong.” 
“Doesn’t matter, sometimes you just gotta tell her what she wants to hear.”
“Even I know that is an incorrect statement. I hope you don’t do that with Blair.”
The brothers fell into a silence, pondering the evening's events. Sitting there, Andy believed his only chance would be focused on his failure as a husband to protect and support his wife. Because now, in retrospect he wanted the restraining order as well, he just didn’t want a mentally ill person behind bars with hardened criminals for a minor incident. But Aria’s self-doubt issues were an ongoing problem she was constantly battling with and his words no doubt caused a major set back. They rang in his ears over and over again.
Not everything is about your petty insecurity problems.
How was he going to come back from that? He imagined she’d forgive him but he knew if she did, her walls would be firmly back in place like when they’d been reintroduced at Bucky and Deli’s engagement party. It had been so difficult that first time around, he couldn’t imagine she’d make it any easier this time. If roles were reversed he wouldn’t even be able to accept forgiveness. The route of the problem was the danger she’d been in and his inability to see it due to his relationship with Laurie previously. He’d never seen her violent so he couldn’t process that she was capable of hurting anyone. 
Ari let Andy to stew while Andy continued to drink and criticized himself for hours until he was calling his wife, clearly drunk.
“Please come home … I’m sorry … please baby, I’m a dumbass … I failed you …”
“I didn’t convey my point correctly … I said things I didn’t mean … I know … I can’t … lose you … please.”
“I understand now … you were scared and I should have … I promise you're safe here … I’ll be better … I’ll get you that order myself … get one for myself too.”
“Aria … my love, my life … just please come home.”
After listening to the third voicemail, Aria wanted to go home and find comfort in her husband's arms life she so often did. But he’d been so angry, she knew it was misplaced at her but the words still stung. His words not too far off from those her parents had used on her time and time again and Andy knew that. Not to mention that the woman had found their home, she knew where they lived and the law didn’t seem to be a hindrance to Laurie. Before Aria could change her mind Deli coaxed her into bed and to sleep.
The next morning she woke up to several more voicemails similar to ones she’d listened to the night before. This time her best friend wasn’t able to stop her from going home. She found her husband passed out holding her pillow from the bed, stinking of booze. 
“Oh, Andy,” she sighed. As she attempted to pick him up from the floor and put him on the cough, she accidentally jostled her awake. 
“You came home,” his voice hoarse, his eyes bloodshot. “Aria I’m so sorry. I didn’t behave correctly last night.” 
“Let’s just work on getting you cleaned up.”
“No!” he grasped her forearms and looked up at her in desperation. “Please don’t leave me! I love you! I’m a man and we fuck up sometimes but-”
“Whoa whoa Andy, calm down. I’m not going anywhere.” she promised.
“I’m an asshole.”
“You are,” she laughed as she was finally able to get him on the couch.
“Please don’t block me out.” she stared at him unsure. “I was upset and I hit where I knew it’d hurt but I don’t really think that way.”
“You realize in less than 2 days we boh encountered ex’s and while I defended you, you defended your ex.”
“I won’t ever again, I promise.”
“And if you break that promise?”
“I’ll die before I break that promise.”
“Okay let's clean you up and get you some bread to soak up that alcohol.” 
They both kept their promises: Andy never chose anyone over his wife again nor did he attack her vulnerabilities and Aria didn’t leave or distance herself from him over this incident. Both successfully obtained restraining orders against Laurie who was moved to a more secure facility and Jacob returned to his father. 
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cowboyhorsegirl · 1 year
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STEVE ROGERS HORSE GIRL CONFIRMED
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giorno-plays-piano · 8 months
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Hold On To Me
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Pairing: mob!Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: home intrusion, hostage situation, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome, smut.
Words: 3.9k
Summary: Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.
P.S. I rewatched The Hostage again (when I did it for the first time, this was the result), and here we are.
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Staring at a little black Ikea table as if your life depends on it, you sit, your body aching from being in one position for too long, but you can't move. He's watching you. It seems he doesn't even blink, his eyes on you since the moment he pushed you into your room and locked the door behind him. He's so close you can hear him breathing.
You know this look. You're not that young and innocent to be unable to recognize interest in man's eyes. It both scares and - unfortunately - makes you a little flushed, and you berate yourself for the latter because this isn't the right way to react to a man who broke into your house and took your family hostage. God knows what's happening to your stepfather right now: the man wouldn't be able to protect himself even if he was inside a tank, and his enemy attacked him with a plastic knife. You're as much worried about your little brother. He was always a bit of a brat, but the second you realized he was in danger, you felt so overprotective over him you covered his body with yours like you were a shield.
Your brother is in his room now, being watched by the youngest guy in the gang, the one who looked the most reluctant when their leader decided to take hostages. Your brother must be safe. The other kid won't hurt him, you don't think.
You, on the other hand, are stuck with Steve. From the moment you saw him move and heard him talk, you realized he was running the show behind the curtains. He's dangerous. The third guy, the one who claims to be the leader, is impulsive, angry, shouting and kicking things, sweating like a sinner in church because of the police cars surrounding the house, but Steve is calm and collected. He smiles with his perfectly white teeth and talks to the boys as if he's relaxing in a bar after work, not in the middle of armed robbery.
He's really, really pretty. Steve has perfectly blond hair and proper facial features like a slightly chiseled jaw, full lips, and that sort of blue eyes that make girls swoon over him the moment they see him. He's perfectly tall, well-built, with wide shoulders and strong, muscular arms and legs: he look like he belongs in those Armani commercials or, perhaps, on the catwalk, but not with the kind of guys your mother warned you about. How did he end up on the darkside? What made him so good at using a gun? He didn't fire it even once yet, but you see it from the way he handles it he knows too well what to do with it. It makes you anxious, thinking that he might point his gun at you and then pull the trigger.
Except he won't. Or, it's rather unlikely. Not when he looks at you like this, always moving so close to you he steals a touch whenever he can as if he is unable to help himself. Besides, Steve is kind to you: he gave you water when you asked and loosened the rope tied too tightly around your wrists; he brought you a pillow so you could rest against it, not the cold wall, and shushed you gently when you cried, saying he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your little brother. You don't know how much of his promises are true, but you think him unlikely to harm a child. He doesn't seem the type.
Your poor little boy. He's only a kid, all alone in his room, forced to face one of his kidnappers as he waits for the police to finally make a move. Since you don't hear him crying - your room is just below his - you think he does his absolute best to hold on, to keep calm and not irritate his unwilling jailer even though he's frightened to death. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. If only they agreed to let him go... Not that anyone would listen to your pleas, though. He's a valuable hostage, just like you. As long as the gang has you, police won't make a move, you're pretty sure.
But maybe you can still help your brother. Ease his worry a little, give him a bit of hope. That is, if you play your cards right and press the right buttons of your handsome, terrifying warden.
"May I bring some food to my brother, please?" You whisper, gathering all your courage to turn your head to face Steve, look him straight in the eyes. "He must be so hungry."
Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.
He's not a guy winning girls over with his looks. Steve is a deviant, an outcast. His face can't buy him what he wants, and that's why he's here, in your house, holding your family hostage.
Maybe, just maybe, you can use it to your advantage.
"Can you do me a favor, please?" Your whisper is barely audible. "Can you take me to my brother so I could feed him? If you want, you can tie my legs so I won't run."
Not that you would, anyway. You know perfectly well you can't outrun this guy even if your life depends on it, literally. Overpowering him is even more unlikely unless his muscles are just cotton stuffed in his clothes, which is a ridiculous suggestion.
His eyes light up at the word favor. "Happy to oblige," he muses, and your heart starts beating wildly before he continues, "but how will you return my favor?"
You are puzzled. You haven't thought this far. Dumbly, you thought he'd just say yes. It's a small favor, really. He knew you wouldn't give him any trouble, so it was just quickly checking up on your scared to death brother. Why would he want something from you in return when you couldn't as much as move without his permission?
But of course, he would.
"Anything," you blurt out hurriedly as if the words burn your tongue before you realize what you are actually saying.
Steve laughs with delight, his features softening.
"You should work on your negotiation skills," he declares with a wide smile as you tremble, understanding what you just offered. "You shouldn't give up your everything because people will take anything there is to take. Choose just one thing at a time, and choose carefully."
Suddenly, he gets close, and you immediately avert your eyes to the floor, unable to keep his gaze, trembling.
He nuzzles your cheek affectionately as his knife works through the rope around your wrists, and you pray he isn't going to stab you because you really know nothing and all judgements you made of him might be false. "But I'll be nice and choose just one thing for you. You'll feed your brother, and then I'll feed you, alright?"
You blink, your eyes on your warden again. Feed you? He wants to give you food?
Okay, it sounds strange. But who cares when you can finally see your brother? You'd say yes even if he proposed something improper because what else can you do? Steve has a gun, and even without it, you feel like he's a very dangerous person to oppose to.
So you say yes, and he takes your hand in his - so you won't be nervous, he says, but you know he wants to remind you who's in control - and then you two march to the kitchen in awkward silence where you grab whatever you can find. A cheeseburger from that little family café your family goes to every weekend, a pack of yogurt, a toast, a bottle of water... Steve even helps you to carry it all.
When he opens the door to your brother's room, you forget how to breathe for a second. The little boy is safe, sitting on his bed with his hands already untied, his eyes red from all the crying, and you rush to him, forgetting there's another man in the room. Or, well, a boy, because he's surely younger than you, perhaps still at school. His eyes are suspiciously red, too, as if he's scared and doesn't want anything but leave this place for good. For a moment you think it'd be better if he was guarding you, too, because then, perhaps, he'd agree to let you go if you helped him run away from the house without police catching him, and then things would be so much easier.
But the boy leaves in a hurry when Steve enters, and you remember who's a true ringleader. You can never escape on your own.
Your brother cries when you hug him, his little hands wrapped around you as he sniffle, and you rock back and forth to calm him down, whispering words of comfort, like everything's going to be alright even if you don't know where your stepdad is and what Steve is going to do to you if police doesn't do what he demands them to. You tell your brother he needs to eat because it's dinner time, and he nods, suddenly a well-behaved boy he'd never been, and takes a cheeseburger. You don't leave until he eats everything even if it's probably too much for a kid his size, but he says nothing, and you want him to be completely full: who knows when he'll eat again.
Then you give him a hug. It'll be fine, you say, and he does his best not to cry. Just do what they say, be a good boy, and everything's gonna be alright.
Steve smiles at the child when your brother doesn't want to let you go. "Listen to your sister," he says in a tone as if he's playing the role of a big brother, "and things will be fine. She'll be safe, too."
You don't think you'll be safe, not with someone like Steve, but perhaps your brother will be because his jailer is a kind kid, and he isn't cut out for violence. It's enough for you, even if your hair stands on end when Steve gently nudges you into your room, locking the door behind himself again. Once you two are completely alone, you start to panic, your breathing growing uneven, your hands shaking. What will he do to you? Will he rape you? Torture you? Kill you? If you could think rationally, you'd realize at least the last two are unlikely to happen, but you're a hostage, and he has the power to do any of these things. Even if you're unbound, you're helpless against him, a man so big and strong he'd overpower you in a matter of seconds.
So you don't try anything. You go sit down on the floor near your bed with a pillow resting between your back and the wall and then stretch out your arms for Steve to bind them again. He doesn't.
"You've been a good girl so far," he muses, sitting down in front of you, and then you see a couple of fruits in his hands that you somehow missed completely. "Now, let me feed you."
You still when he takes out his knife and peels a big red apple in a single strip before cutting it into even pieces. When he brings one close to you, you try to take it from his hands, but he tuts, tilting his head. "Open your mouth," he says simply instead, and your face grows hot.
Of course, there was a catch. There always is with guys like him.
But you say nothing and do as he says, and then he carefully pushes a piece of apple into your mouth. It's delicious, juicy, just your favorite sort of apples. You try to concentrate on the taste, not Steve's delighted expression when he watches you eat. Soon, he pushes one more piece past your lips, and then one more, and one more until there's nothing left of the apple. He's nowhere near finished, of course, because then starts to peel an orange. It's messier than the apple, but Steve doesn't seem to mind when he brings a slice close to your lips and lets you swallow it. His smile grows wider the closer you are to finishing the orange.
When you're finally done, your mouth full of acidic flavor, he suddenly clicks his tongue.
"My hand is all dirty from orange's juice," he says, eyeing you when you finally register what it is he asks you to do.
You bite down on your lips, eyes round as he brings his hand to your mouth.
"Lick it," he whispers so close to your face you can feel his breath on your skin.
You want to say no, to tell him he's out of his mind, but you don't. He's been kind to you so far, and it'd be stupid to provoke him. Even if he won't stop at this... maybe he'll stay kind, anyway. It's better than having him put a gun against your forehead for refusing to do what he says.
You open your mouth, taking his fingers in one at a time. They taste almost the same as the orange, sticky with juice, and you do your best to lick them clean, making shameless little noises when you suck at them. Steve doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he looks at you with a delightful expression on his face, like he's happy you're so good at whatever he asks you to do. He slips finger after finger inside your warm, wet mouth, playing with your tongue, smearing juice and saliva against it as he laughs with joy.
When you're done, he kisses you, sharing the sour taste of the fruit.
You knew it would come to this. It's no surprise, really, with the way he looks at you. But you still tremble and wish for all of it to end when Steve licks your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.
"Open your legs, baby," he commands in a sweet voice, and you shudder but do as he says anyway, and his lips part in a smile. "Yeah, like that."
His hand is already between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the clothes, and you freeze, blood pounding in your ears. It feels surreal, being in this situation, in the hands of someone who might make you cum or shoot you in the head instead. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but your body is petrified, limbs turning to stone, your tongue heavy when you whisper. "Please, don't hurt me."
It's a plea, a cry, and tears slip down your cheeks as you look him in the face, his eyes dark and perceptive. Then, all of a sudden, he softens. "You're safe with me," he promises, his breath warming your face as his hand lands on your head, stroking you gently like a little girl, and you feel like you're going to cry from the intimacy of his touch. "You'll always be safe with me."
His other hand is already in your jeans, caressing you through the silk fabric of your panties, but as he pats your head, taking your hair away from your face, you lean into him, seeking any comfort he's willing to give. Steve purrs, landing a kiss to your brow, his fingers slowly spreading your gentle folds as you shudder. "Good girl."
You let out a shaky sigh as he circles your clit: surprisingly, he doesn't start pumping his fingers in and out like most guys do, too eager to have their dick inside. No, Steve just draws more sighs from you, makes you meek and pliant and wet as his fingers work your clit just the right way, and you squirm into the fabric of his t-shirt as he caresses the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.
It almost doesn't feel like he's forcing himself on you. It feels like... like he comforts you. As if he wants you to feel good, to be fine with him doing it to you.
"I'm... I'm-"
Your knees tremble as you sense the orgasm coming too soon, snuggling against your captor as his hand closes against your shoulders, his fingers working your clit even faster, circling, pinching, pressing on it like a button, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The coil tightens in your belly and, then, then... you become undone. Disintegrate in Steve's hands when he praises you tenderly for being good to him, kisses your cheeks wet from tears, and craddle you to his chest like a baby. He's painfully hard, you can feel it through his jeans when you lean onto him, but Steve doesn't seem in a hurry for his own release. He waits till your orgasm makes you all too soft and takes your face in his hand, giving you a deep kiss, his tongue coiling around yours.
You barely recognize when he lifts you up, feeling too comfortable and warm, pressed to him like that, but then you feel cool bedsheets behind your back, and then you're scared again.
Steve coes tenderly, giving you a peck on the lips, "Do you want to ride me, baby? Or do you want me to take you on your back, like a princess?"
The way he phrases it makes warmth creep into your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, mumbling, "On my back, please."
It doesn't even register that he forces himself on you right this minute. It feels like... something else. Something not so scary, not so violent. Something... tender.
"Like a princess, then," your captor smiles, hands trailing your jeans as he carefully slides them down, taking them away, living you half naked. "Alright. You'll be my princess."
Your face feels disturbingly hot when he says it, his hands on you as he tugs the fabric of your blouse up, lowering his head to drop a few kisses to your tummy, murmuring something you don't quite catch, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, you are completely naked in front of him, and you'd feel ashamed if he wouldn't caress your head again like you're a little girl, eager for his praise.
He gives you a kiss before inching away, taking his t-shirt off ever so slowly to give you a good look at his undoubtedly perfect body. But you don't look at his muscled arms or wide chest. Your eyes are trailing his scars, so many scars of different shapes and sizes that cover his skin. Many of them are long, undoubtedly deep, as if someone... as if someone stabbed Steve with a knife.
Your eyes water. Even if it's you who's a victim, a hostage, you feel a sharp sense of guilt as if it were you who hurt him.
He blinkes, a little surprised, perhaps, but you can see there's someone else in his eyes. Something like shame. Like self-loathing.
"A princess' knight is supposed to have a few scars here and there, right?" He gives a quiet laugh, getting down again to cage you with his body, but he freezes when your warm hand lands on a long, ugly line on his side, between the ribs. It is long healed, but the touch makes him stop, nonetheless.
You look him into the eyes, and your face is tight with worry. "I'm sorry," you whisper like it's your fault, your palm warming his skin, and Steve becomes alive again under your touch, his lips partying in a smile once more.
His hand caresses your nipple, pinching it between two fingers as he draws a breath from you, watching you intently, his hard, leaking cock heavy on your tummy. Then, suddenly remembering something, he bends over to grab something from his jeans, and you realize he's putting on a condom. You sigh in relief, and he catches that.
"Anything for a princess," he grins, sliding his hand over your thigh, and you still beneath him when he positions himself at your entrance.
You're scared. That moment you're back into your room, with a man who can shoot you hovering above you like a monster eager to eat you alive, and you forget how to breathe. You're not a princess in the care of your faithful knight. You're a hostage, and your captor can do anything he wants with you.
Steve feels the change in you in a moment, and he stops, his hand back to the top of your head. Even though you can feel how painfully hard he is, he waits, caressing you like a little girl, smiling to you, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face, repeating you'll always be safe with him. And then you're a princess again, and he's your knight.
He pushes into you, and you bit down on your lip, trying to relax: he's not monstrous, but Steve is still a bit too big for you to take him comfortably. Thankfully, he doesn't split you on his cock, giving you time to adjust, and with every moment the subtle pain grows weaker before it finally lets go, and you nudge your warden gently, your hands gripping his shoulder and your face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't hurt anymore. It almost feels good to be so full of him, to know what it's like to have him inside of you.
Steve says it's hard not to cum when you clamp down on him so much, gripping him like a vice. Pleasure softens his features, and you brush a strand of blond hair away from his face before you even register what you do. He does, though, and he likes it. He finally starts to move.
Sweat drips down your bodies when Steve keeps slamming inside of you, making all sorts of soft noises while you pant and choke beneath him, snuggling against his form, your legs wrapped around him tightly. His cock is pressing against every right spot of yours, making you forget who he is and what he does to you. You're his princess, his good girl, he repeats over and over again, and you feel safe in his embrace, inhaling his scent, taking his cock till its head presses into your cervix, leaving a pleasant ache and making you whine. It feels good to be in his care when he rolls to the side and presses your head to his chest, his other hand lifting your leg to reach a different angle, and you kiss his jaw, his neck, making it even harder to hold on, he says.
When he cums, you're already far too gone. The pleasure is too intense, and for a couple of minutes you say nothing to each other, panting, his hands still on the back of your head as he caresses you absent-mindedly, your bed a mess of damp and crinkled sheets. You wish to stop thinking. To forget everything. Just being here, being safe, is enough for now.
Until he speaks again.
"You'll come with me," he whispers feverishly, his hot palm on your cheek, almost burning you. "I'll take you away, and we'll go on a big adventure together, princess. With dragons, swords, and gold."
You're quiet against him, staring into his chest as he caresses your head.
You're not a princess. You're a prey.
___________
Tags: ​@finleyjayne @helenaeisenhower @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @rosalynshields @lookiamtrying @soleil-dor @cosicas-cuquis @buckybarnesplumwhore @lux-ravenwolf @stupendouslovegardener @what-is-your-wish @eralen @magnificantmermaid @typewritersworld @stcrrjoon @sweetxime @imrandomstuffsblog @gachawipes133
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lokisgoodgirl · 4 months
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Harvest: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]
The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (7) Fresh off Loki's revelation, its time to save Colin Robertson. Oh...and some other things too, I guess. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki (?) Language. Mild angst. Plans and smug rehashing of plans. Soft smut. Domestic fluff. Sassy Satchel. (w/c 6.2k) Recommended Folklore Track: Invisible String
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Despite protestations, Steve had set up a perimeter and concocted a list of bird-themed call-signs. He walked thirty meters ahead of you and Loki.
Every ten paces, the captain spun in a shifty circle and beckoned you on. “Oh, for goodness sake,” Loki grumbled as he re-hoisted a limp Colin Robertson across his shoulders. The man was drooling on him.
Thor brought up the rear of the rudimentary formation, ambling at the back with his hands in his pockets. The hat was still drawn low over his brow. “He feels awful,” you muttered. “As he should,” Loki said stiffly. “Thanks to him, this mortal finds himself at the mercy of another of his cunning plans. A perilous state indeed.” “You care,” you mumbled with a gentle smile. Loki narrowed his eyes playfully. “I shall have to dial it back a little, lest I become soft.” “Not much chance of that,” you whispered to yourself. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Loki smile.
From ahead, Steve released a strangled caw.
“What one’s that?” Loki drawled. The tap of Colin’s dead-weight hand sounded against his back with every step.
You frowned, looking around. “People? Aircraft? I can’t remember.” “The car.” Loki said flatly, pointing to a bright blue blob in the distance. From behind them, a crunch of running footsteps approached. “Almost time for the commencement of the plan, brother.” “It’s a terrible plan.” Loki snipped. Thor rolled his eyes. “Ye of little faith,” he rumbled confidently. Ten minutes later, the five of you hung in various stages inside and outside the Fiat 500. Rogers had pushed the front seat as far forward as it would go, climbing in to the back. Loki was positioned already behind the passenger side, crammed against the wall. “Just put him in the trunk,” Loki chided for the fourth time. “Oh pish, Laufeyson” Steve snapped. “The man could have a spinal injury.” Loki threw up his hands in resignation.
You leant against the bonnet, one of Colin’s arms draped over your shoulder. The other hung around Thor. The man drooped between you like a scarecrow. “Places,” Steve announced confidently before his face lowered and he sidestepped into the Fiat backseat. All you heard were huffs from Loki as Rogers shuffled into the middle. It was going to be tight. You and Thor moved forwards, ignoring the sad drag of Colin’s walking boots on the dirt track. With a little manoeuvring, the hiker was deposited in the back seat. His face smooshed against the window, faint clouds of condensation forming on the glass.
“God, I wish I had my phone.” you murmured to Thor as you drank in the absurd sight. Loki was staring pointedly out the window, shoulders scrunched to take up as little space as possible. Rogers face had flushed, hoiking the unconscious man further on his side.
Thor chuckled, gripping the open door. He leant towards you conspiratorially. “Gird thy loins, sister” he hummed. You grimaced. The passenger seat was as far forward as it could go, with Thor’s knees drawn up to his chest.
You sighed as you slid into the drivers side. The muscled pressure of Loki’s legs protruded through the back of your seat. You cleared your throat, fiddling with the radio. “You do realise, that if the police stop us then we’re up shit-” “-crud,” Steve cut. “-crud creek without a paddle?” Loki snorted with genuine laughter. You bit your lip, realising that just maybe everything was going to be alright. And not just for Colin. “Onward!” Thor boomed. Everyone groaned, covering their ears.
You drove cautiously through winding one track lanes. The hedgerows were in full autumnal blossom now. Gold and burnt orange foliage simmered in speckled sunlight. In the back seat, Colin was stirring. “We don’t have much time,” Steve’s worried voice chimed. He stroked Colin’s cheek. “It’s alright, pal. We’ll get ya where you’re going.” In the rear-view mirror, you saw Loki throw him an incredulous scowl.
“Ye Olde Fighting Cocks,” Thor read as the swinging pub sign grew closer. He laughed to himself, slapping his knee and almost hitting his face on the rebound. “Just like us, brother.” In the back seat, Loki scoffed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered. You pulled into the carpark. It was busier than you would like. “Okay, just like we talked about,” Steve started. “Thor – you commandeer a table outside. Away from any hubbub. Agent, you’re on drinks duty. Loki and I will position Mr Robertson and get the heck outta there.” Everyone mumbled agreement. It wasn’t perfect, but it was visible. And it beat leaving him on a hillside. Thor pulled his hat down, stuffing errant strands of sandy hair inside. He produced a pair of chunky sunglasses from the glovebox.
“Avengers…” he began with gravitas.
“Don’t.” Steve snapped.
As it transpired, the only hubbub in the beer-garden was an old man stubbing out a cigarette by the entrance. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Thor’s bobble hat poked over the hedge. You quickly made yourself scarce, walking inside the tavern and collecting as many glasses as you could covertly carry.
Sidling between tables of chattering locals, you squinted out a passing window. Thor was leaning awkwardly against a picnic bench. You saw a flash of movement in the bushes behind him as Steve and Loki emerged, shuffling forward in a squat position. Colin dragged between them. They hoisted him to sit at the table, flipping his legs over the bench. He slumped forwards. The last thing you saw was Thor attempting to prop a fist under his chin. He failed Sliding out the front door, you made your way quickly over to the scene and plopped seven glasses on the surface. “Let’s go,” you said. “Where is the ale?” Thor said, face falling. “We’re not staying, buffoon” Loki scathed as the four of you made your way quickly back to the car. “That defeats the entire purpose.” Thor pouted all the way home.
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You had walked ahead from the driveway to the cottage door with your heart in your mouth. It had been a tense ride.
All you could hear behind you was Loki’s hushed overtones requesting privacy from the others.
Noting the tremble in your hands, you unlocked and walked inside. Keep it together, you chided as you slipped into the kitchen and sat at the table, fidgeting. The front door opened. It closed with a creak and a thunk. You tried to steady your breaths as Loki hung up his jacket before rounding the corner, smoothing his hair while he looked at the floor. Suddenly your fingernails became very interesting.
His towering figure occupied your periphery, hovering before he sat in the opposite chair. Looking up, your eyes met his. You offered a weak smile. Loki cleared his throat.
The chair leg squeaked. "I want to be myself. My core self. The one that swells in my roots, I suppose you would say." he said abruptly. The words were quick and cold. "That's what I was attempting to convey... back on the hill."
He seemed nervous. You didn't think you'd ever seen Loki nervous. It made you nervous. He cleared his throat again, features softening. “What I have come to realise” he continued carefully, brushing crumbs from the tablecloth, “is that being with you...I often felt like that boy at the cabin.” He looked at you, tilting his head. His mind was a million miles away, but somehow – it was the closest you had ever been to him. “Except I didn’t know what it was,” he continued wistfully.
“I felt safe. Free. It felt...strange. I fought against it, with my arrogance and my selfishness. Like a dog in a trap, I fought against it with the only tools I had.” You looked down at your hands again, heart sinking. “A trap?”
Loki sighed. “I cannot pertain to the logic. Only my feelings. It was self-preservation. Or so I thought.” “It sounds like self-sabotage to me,” you murmured gently, pressing your thumb into your palm. “Yes.” was all Loki said.
After a few moments he stood.
You braced as he took a step forwards, sinking slowly to sit on his haunches. Your gaze swung to his thighs, thick and straining against the creases of his trousers. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect,” he murmured. There was a pause while the weight of his considerations hung in the air. “But for you, I would do anything in my power. You know that, don’t you?” Tears began to prick your eyes. You swallowed, words coming out as a tremble. “I never wanted you to be perfect, Loki. I only wanted to feel like we were equals.” Loki slipped his fingers into your open palm. “I know that feeling,” he crooned sadly, drawing your hand down. He stroked the skin, looking at it like it might evaporate in his hold.
A gentle press of his lips warmed your wrist. “Am I being presumptuous that you might consider a fresh start between us?” he said tentatively, raising his gaze to meet yours through a dark fan of lashes. “As your ‘girlfriend’?” you questioned. A smile twitched. Was this really happening? Your heart was thundering. “No, Madam” Loki scoffed playfully. “My consort of course.” Your smile grew wider. Loki pursed his lips, brows rising in expectation as he ran his nervous stare over your features. You bit your lip, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But there was none. And somehow, you knew there wouldn’t be.
The hand not being held by his slid up the curve of his jaw. You lowered, pausing by his parted lips. The god’s breath hitched.
“Loki,” you pleaded, no more than a whisper.
His name held weight when you said it like that.
In an instant, Loki closed the space between you, his mouth fastening to yours with a gasp.
Without breaking the kiss he rose, pulling you with him.
His hands cupped your face, fingertips pressing into your hair while his tongue cautiously caressed against your own. It was pure fire, twisting and scorching the path of troubles behind you.
Your knees caught against the chair as he tried to walk you backwards, making you both stumble.
He broke, panting. “Apologies,” he muttered, catching his breath as his large hand centred on your back.
You looped your arms around his neck, memorising the look of abject relief in his eyes. Kissing him softly, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth. Loki’s eyes narrowed, a subconscious thrust of his hips against your stomach making your vision blur. “We should probably let them in now,” you said ruefully, glancing sideways to the closed door. “I was hoping you couldn’t hear them,” Loki sighed. ‘Damn you and your heavy breathing, Rogers’ Thor chided behind the peeling wood. Loki reached for the handle, a quick turn and release causing Steve and his brother to sprawl forwards face-first to the linoleum.
Rogers sat up quickly, brushing himself down as his guilty eyes swung between you. “It was his idea,” he said as he nodded to Thor. “How very dare you,” Thor boomed. “The God of Thunder does not sneak.” “Ain’t that the truth,” Steve snapped.
The two of them stood, awkwardly picking at their clothes. Around the same time, their eyes fell on the space between you and Loki. Thor’s arm shot out, the back of his hand slapping against Steve’s chest.
Their gazes widened in sync. “Holding...hands?” Thor gasped. He and Steve gaped at one another. Suddenly the entire kitchen became a hive of screeches as the two men grasped on to the others biceps, jumping in a circle.
You started to laugh, hearing Loki’s embarrassed chuckle beside you. “Why are they so happy?” you murmured to him. Loki shook his head. “My brother had a cunning plan, you see” he said as he raised your interlinked fingers with a knowing smile. “Hold up,” Steve interjected. His serious face was back. “I gotta take some credit considering it was my idea, Odinson.”
Thor laughed mirthlessly, throwing his head back with a shake of his hair. “I think not, Rogers. If anything your contributions were the seasoning.” “Seasoning?”” Steve balked. “It was my idea to get them up here in the first place.” Thor released a grimacing smile. He patted Steve on the back. “Perhaps now is not the time,” he muttered as covertly as a fart in an elevator.
You yelped as Loki sat at the dining table, pulling you onto his lap. “No, I think now is most definitely the time” he purred as he linked his fingers around your stomach. You’d forgotten how solid his thighs were. Almost. Steve’s cheeks flushed. “Well, uh…you see, it started way back when uh-” “-Well,” Thor interrupted. “Apologies, Rogers – but the tale requires gravitas.” Steve rolled his eyes, as the god continued. “Around two months ago when your incessant moods had reached peak insufferability, I invoked Rogers aid in a minor detail of the piece-”
“-I bought this place,” Steve butted sharply. “Well, Stark did.” You and Loki looked at each other, frowning. “We figured you guys needed to get away somewhere neutral. Something official to force your hand. Back to basics, somewhere Laufeyson could be pushed out of his comfort zone with a range of activities he felt were-” “-Beneath you, brother” Thor quipped smugly. “And in tandem with my cunning plan, it was fool-proof.”
The two of them folded their arms, their facial expressions hinting that they had explained everything. “Yes? And?” Loki probed lazily. The breath from his words flooded your ear, lips ghosting the shell. You wondered if he was listening. He placed an absent-minded kiss at the tip of your cheekbone, nuzzling gently. “From there it was quite simple, really- for a fellow like myself” Thor postured, looping his thumbs through his belt.
Loki rolled his eyes as his brother’s smug voice boomed around the kitchen. “One of the many times you fell asleep on my sofa after a night of ale and moaning about blowing it with this one” Thor thumbed to you; “you were mumbling about the cabin.” “I was?” Loki asked. Thor nodded. “And it made me ponder what you were like back then. The same, but different. Not as much of a little shit. I thought it was time you needed a more targeted reminder – for all our sakes. In a place like this, a place like the cabin. Kind of.”
You felt Loki inhale sharply, priming a barb. But he let it go. You felt the tension melt against your back as his hands clasped tighter in your lap. “Oh brother, I thought you’d really arsed it up with that stunt on our second evening” Thor chuckled, nudging Steve in the ribs.
“But your denial was rather a boon, Agent. A catalyst which timed well with Rogers and myself's light exploration of his foils earlier that night. Commendations, sister, for resisting my brother’s seductions. His cock is a wily adversary, I am sure.” You smirked as Loki’s inaudible laughter pulsed against your back. You’d missed this. “Tell them about the fire,” Steve whispered shyly. Thor’s eyes lit up.
“Ah, well...Rogers here had the rather genius idea of luring you both to the fireside. Nothing fans the flames like...well, flames. My brother has always been a lush for elemental theatrics.” Steve beamed with pride while your eyebrows rose. “And destroying my room and all my stuff was…?” The question lingered as Thor shuffled awkwardly. “Collateral damage, sister. We needed you out of that bedroom. I may have slightly overdone it.” “We thought you were ready,” Steve added. “I signalled with the flashlight when I thought the ol’ heart-to-heart had done the business and then…”
He and Thor nodded sagely to each other. “So were the two of you like...monitoring us?” you asked, glancing at Loki who was blushing faintly. “Of course!” Thor boomed. “The two of you were the true field operation. Well, in a roundabout sort of way.” Loki burrowed his face in the curve of your neck, a smile spreading against the skin. “What about the two of you?” Loki purred, resting his chin on your shoulder. “All smoke and mirrors like the rest?” Thor flapped his hand in the air as Steve bristled. “You need not know the details, brother.” he blustered. “What matters in that you stayed in that room. With her.” Steve’s face was a deep shade of crimson. “It had to be realistic,” he muttered, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “We got ya!” he added weakly. “So is what he’s saying...true?” you asked Loki. “Did it work?” Loki chuckled, bouncing one leg as he considered his answer. You jiggled, gripping his bicep for balance. He shot the men standing shoulder-to-shoulder above him a sharp glare.
“From the wreckage of my brother’s tenuous plot I did scavenge a solitary golden thread of wisdom, yes.” Thor released one of his arms from the fold, pointing a fist to the captain. Steve shook it. “I owe you ten bucks, Odinson” he said ruefully. “You owe me more than that, Rogers.” Thor winked. Steve cast an anxious glance to you and Loki, acknowledging your bemused smiles with a curt nod. He cleared his throat. “Time for us to make tracks,” he said.
You frowned. “But Steve, we have like... two more days here.” Thor laughed, doubling over. Rogers shook his head. “You have two more days here. We are going to the spa.” “The spa?” Loki spat incredulously. “Without me?!”
Thor shrugged. “If you wish to join Rogers and I for an ‘erbal wrap and sauna privileges you are most welcome to brother.” He tracked his gaze to you, sitting on Loki’s lap. “But something tells me you’d rather stay here,” he added softly.
Loki’s face burrowed into your neck again, nose grazing your collarbone. “Quite,” he murmured. It was meant only for you. In the following twenty minutes the blondes made quick work of packing their belongings. You helped Thor locate his various nick-knacks, strewn clothes and hair mousses; passing each of them in turn as he leant his bodyweight on a second suitcase.
The captain’s bags were stacked neatly in the corner. He was frowning at the tower. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” he murmured, stroking his chin.
“The crisper,” you said, trying not to laugh. Steve’s cheeks flushed as your eyes fell involuntarily to his butt. “Been enjoying the freedom, Cap?” you giggled, tossing another bottle to Thor.
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When the last suitcase had been stuffed into the beleaguered Fiat, the blondes returned inside. You and Loki had stood at the doorway of the cottage, watching them. It was meditative. Winding curls of burnt orange ivy rustled in the air. There was no rush.
You turned your face, brushing your cheek against the wool of Loki’s jumper. He rested his chin on your head.
As they approached, you pulled away from the god and let your fingers trail longingly over his stomach as you sank back to the hallway. Loki winked, a small smile flirting at his lip. The warmth flooding your skin could be magic, you were sure. But something told you it wasn’t.
Thor tugged the sides of his jacket. “I take it this highly successful endeavour means that you will be of more pleasant humour to everyone then,” he chuckled.
“Regrettably, for the foreseeable future I shall be targeting my efforts of self-improvement to our darling Agent, here.” Loki purred, zipping his brother’s jacket up over his mouth. “I’m sure you understand it’s a process.” “Just consider me your spiritual Sherpa, brother-” Thor continued un-phased against the muffler. “And Rogers too, to a lesser extent.” “The day I consider that, is the day I may be claimed by the sanatorium, brother” Loki smiled dryly.
“So you’re still gonna be a boob to the rest of us? That wasn't part of the deal,” Steve whined, releasing a low whistle of discontent. Loki shrugged. “Apologies, gentleman.” he smarmed, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. He tipped forward earnestly. “Although when it comes to mocking you both; I will do my utmost not to pick up the gauntlets of temptation you throw so effortlessly down.” The three of them looked between each other.
“Excellent!” Steve chirped, shuffling sideways between you and Loki. You followed as he rounded the corner to the kitchen. Making immediately for the fridge, the captain un-balled a Tesco carrier bag from his pocket. Leaning against the door-frame, you watched as Captain America gingerly slid open the crisper. His lips pursed, pressing inward. It was all you could do not to fall to the floor. He reached in, carefully picking out each pair of underwear and slipping them into the plastic bag.
“I can see you,” he grit, throwing a knowing look over his shoulder. “And I would appreciate if the events of this trip stayed between the four of us.”
“Come, Rogers!” Thor boomed as he snuck up behind you, drawing you into a bear hug. You thrashed against his chest, before sinking with a relenting sigh into his hold. “Sister,” he whispered gruffly through a smile as Steve bustled past to the car. “I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
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Loki gave a final wave as his brother and Rogers drove away down the rickety path. Thor’s hair whipped around his temples, the window fully rolled down and his head sticking out. Loki smiled, chortling softly as he closed the door.
In the kitchen, he could hear mugs clinking.
He straightened the front of his jumper, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Right…” he breathed quietly. Loki paced cautiously into the kitchen, memorising the way the low amber sunlight bathed your skin.
A goddess, he thought. “My goddess,” he said.
You turned, surprise peaking your brows before you smiled. “Hey,” you murmured shyly. It made his stomach flip. Wiping your hands on the dishcloth, you turned. Without stopping to think, Loki strode forward and kissed you.
He didn’t want to think anymore. Not today. His tongue slipped easily between your lips, the only sound the careful wax and wane of delicate skin and the melody of gentle moans. His fingers curled around the counter-lip, caging your body as your hands slid up his sweater, tugging. There was a quiet groan as you pulled away, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth.
“I’m going to take a shower,” you said. There was a look in your eye Loki thought he would never see again. His stomach did another turn. “Oh. Of course,” he muttered politely, standing back. Fingers slid down the chunky knit of his arm, grazing over his hand. They toyed with his own as you began to walk to the door, throwing a seductive glance back over your shoulder. “Come with me?” Loki’s breath hitched. “I’ll be right behind you,” he murmured. He was sure the tremor of his racing heart could be heard in his voice. “I’d prefer face-to-face,” you winked before disappearing into the hall. Loki’s mouth gaped. The god heard the creak of the bathroom door, the thick splash as water hit the tub from on high. It’s happening, he thought; amazed.
In this unfamiliar landscape stripped of all ornament. In the wreckage of his brother’s clumsy attempts at mischief, he had found what his heart had been search for; slipping against walls of his cluttered mind. A second chance. Loki did some quick calculations, finding his feet drawing him already up the stairs. He was certain that you weren’t on birth control, he remembered hushed whispers overheard between you and Wanda months prior. At the time, it had made him very happy indeed. He was even more certain he didn’t wish to enchant you – that was a conversation for a later time.
Nerves fizzed in his stomach as he pushed open the doorway to his brother and Rogers room. Where are they? Loki cursed every creaking footstep as he picked his way around the room, but what he sought was nowhere to be seen. Steve had stripped the bedsheets, leaving them folded in military position at the foot of the bed. The god peered beneath pillows, under the mattresses. He frowned. A minute later, he pushed the door of his own room ajar. And there, on the pillow, was a box.
A yellow post-it note was stuck jauntily to the centre. Loki whipped it up with a flourishing snap, holding it at arms length as he peered down. A gift, it read. Love you Little Brother, Thor :) xx x “I bought them,” Loki grumbled, picking up the box.
It was open.
He pulled out a set, splitting them in two as he released a quaking sigh. Tossing the chosen one on the bed, he slipped the extra back in its home. Nine remained.
We might need to go to that shop again, Loki mused as he picked up the solitary condom on the bed. He held it up to eye-level, thumb pressed against the foil centre as he steadied himself. “Loki?” you cooed from downstairs. Your voice was an angelic echo, misting through tile and steam. He shuddered, cock pulsing against his trousers. He made his way carefully down the steps, memorising the way the wooden banister glided and caught against his skin. If I could live in a memory, Loki pondered as his fingers pressed against the ajar bathroom door, it would be this one.
Rich golden sunlight flooded the room from the tiny window. The ageing white tiles and fittings were perfected in its amber glow, porcelain glinting with an asgardian sheen under nature’s filter. Behind the shower curtain, you were humming; a splatter of water from your wet hair hitting the base. Loki cleared his throat.
Your face appeared, clutching the thin shower curtain by your chest. You were smiling, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Is the beige a permanent feature of your wardrobe now? Because if it is then I may need to rethink this whole thing.”
Loki’s arms crossed immediately, tugging the cable-knit over his head. It caught beneath his ears, the tinkle of your laugh singing against falling water. After a few seconds, the jumper was discarded by his ankles.
The god’s fingers flew to his belt, making quick work of the fastenings and pushing them to his feet. He hopped out of them, standing with a sudden flourish; shoulders rolled back. You looked from the pile on the floor to his eyes, one brow raised. “The old-fashioned way huh? That’s a first.” Loki cocked his chin. He bit his lip, enjoying the track of your gaze rolling hungrily down his naked body. One finger appeared from behind the shower-curtain, beckoning. With a heavy exhale, he stepped over the bath wall.
His cock slapped against his stomach, smacking the taut skin. You stood beneath the shower head, low pressure making it pour thickly to your skull before splitting to rivers down your back and chest. Loki swallowed. Water dripped in languid streams down your arms, trickling lazily through the part of your breasts. A droplet clung to your nipple, dangling as he would his tongue on the curve.
There was a quiet rip as he peeled the top of the foil square he held. Your eyes fell to the work of his hands, smiling as you savoured the journey back to meet his smoulder.
Loki gripped his cock, one slow slick of his fist all that was needed before he rolled the condom from the tip. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightened at the base.
Like a dream Loki found himself looming above you, the flat of his stomach pressed against the slick of your own. In seconds, his wetted body plastered to yours; his mouth swallowing against your open lips, his hands sinking into the glossed plump of your skin. Sighs mingled with steam as he moved you with ease against the tiles, the keening thrusts of your hips matching his own eagerness. Loki groaned as your digits curled around his throbbing cock. You released a dirty moan into his mouth as one finger slid between your folds. A growl bubbled in his throat at the feeling of your silken arousal hot against his fingers. Loki felt everything. The clench of your thighs around his wrist, the tug of his foreskin against your mound through latex, the depth of the longing in your kiss. Everything.
She is everything.
“-Wait,” he choked as he pulled away from the kiss.
Water hit the nape of his neck as he watched fear blossom in your eyes. Sodden tendrils of his hair curled against your collarbone. “Are you sure?” he swallowed. “About me-,” he finished, choking on the words. Your face softened. “It never ended for me, Loki” you whispered, barely audible against the water’s slap. He melted into the fingers sliding up the base of his skull. “It was always you,” he heard you say before pulling his mouth to yours. “It was always you,” he echoed between desperate kisses. Loki sank into old habits he could live with. With one hand steadying your waist, he drew your thigh to sit on his hip. A tremble ran up his spine as you manoeuvred his cock against your heat, the skim of your breath caressing his cheek.
And with a gasp, he pushed inside.
Loki’s hips nudged upwards, savouring the drag of your delicate walls wrapped around his length. It was more than he remembered. Or maybe that was new. But every clench of your sweetness around him, every slow tighten of his ass which rocked him deeper. Every moment burned with glittering with clarity, auburn leaves falling in slow motion. Your arms rested on his shoulders. Wet skin slurped as air pockets burst and kissed together. Water ran down, pooling against hands and lips and foreheads as it looked for any way between your bodies.
His name wisped in the steamed air; chanted from breathy moans and pitched sobs of pleasure. Loki could not recall when he had been happier. Perhaps, he thought, I never have.
But the only utterance he had strength for were broken syllables of your name.
Slowly he took you. Moulded to you. Melted into you. So slowly.
Your hands tangled in his soaking hair as Loki hoisted you higher. His hands slid beneath your ass, taking all the work as you slid back and forth along his length. He would never take the supple give of your skin as his tips sank deeper for granted again.
“Darling,” he sighed wantonly. It was punctuated with a slow roll of his hips.
Your eyes flew open, rolling back as your head tapped back against the tile. He kissed down the exposed length of your neck, slurping against rivulets that paved his path.
Waves of desire undulated in his belly, burning blood-red coals that radiated jolts of pleasure from the root of his cock. It pulsed with each measured clench of his ass.
They timed him perfectly, the stammering, gasping prayers of delight heralding your climax growing louder. Loki buried his face in your neck, softly biting up your throat.
“Darling,” he moaned repeatedly as his own orgasm reared. As if the loving word would disappear down the drain between his searching fingers. The invisible string that tied his heart to yours. It always had. You came with an anguished sob, fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulder-blades. One of Loki’s hands flew to the side, grasping slippery palms against tile before grabbing the curtain.
With the lightest of his tugs, the shower rail cracked. The palm flew above your head, smacking and squeaking down the grubby tiles as Loki felt his who body clench, trembling muscles tightening.
His foot slipped against the tub, the correction thrusting his manhood one final squeeze as he came with a crushing cry of your name. He juddered, the force of his cum filling the condom wrapped snug around his pulsing cock.
Your back began to slip down the wall, legs loosening their grip around his waist; spent. But Loki held you close. There was a dreamy smile on your face as your lashes fluttered, refocusing on him.
“I missed you,” you slurred while your fingers knotted through his hair. Water hit Loki’s back as he pushed you further against the wall with a rapturous kiss, wandering hands massaging the spill of your breasts. “I missed me too,” he breathed bitterly against your cheek. A finger trailed along his jaw, tipping Loki’s chin to face you.
“But I missed you more,” he whispered. And what’s more, Loki found, it was true.
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The sun set, and then rose. Hours upon hours had passed, low afternoon sun spilling through the open curtains of Loki’s room. It was too cold to be anywhere else. But not in here.
You had lain tangled in each others arms, fingers grazing on skin between giggles and dozing and long conversations. And sex. Lots of sex.
His inhumanly long legs sprawled open. One lay bent, hanging triangularly over the side of the bed. You lay on your stomach, one hand propped beneath your chin while the other trailed lazily up and down your lover’s torso. His pale skin looked tan in golden sunlight. Loki watched you.
His eyes followed the path of your fingertips, pads dipping into every dent of muscle in their way which tightened and relaxed with each breath. Circling, dancing.
Loki shivered. A jolt of one knee rusted the bedsheet draped across his middle. You smiled, lowering to place a winding path of kisses as you edged the sheet lower. “We really should eat,” Loki murmured, stroking your hair as your lips kissed down his cock. You lingered on a taut vein, teasing your tongue along the pulse. What he meant is that you really should eat, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It was the little things. Loki’s sharp inhale as you swallowed the tip made your stomach flip with pride.
His chin was pointed to the ceiling, muscles in his neck straining. Onyx hair flooded the pillow, his gentle cup of the back of your head vibrating with restraint. There was a rustle as the fingers of his free hand gathered the bedsheets in a fist, clenching and unclenching as you began to suck. “After…” he groaned with an attempt at authority.
With his cock stuffed in your mouth, you sidled over his leg, pushing his knees wider as you settled in. Your arms slid under his thighs, wrapping around him.
“After,” he gasped, before Loki Laufeyson turned to writhing slut-drunk pleasure beneath your touch.
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On further investigation, it seemed you and Loki were shit outta luck.
The cupboards were bare, and it transpired that the Thor-decimated snacks you had grabbed last night between rabid lovemaking was the last of it. Loki spun, gripping the lip of the counter top. His neck was marred with purple bruises from your enthusiastic affections. They wouldn't last, but they looked so pretty while they did. “Let’s go for dinner somewhere,” he purred. You couldn’t help your snort of laugher. “What?” Loki coyed, pushing himself from the ledge. His hands slipped around your waist, grabbing your ass through the sweatshirt hanging down.
“It’s just...risky” you said, tilting your head. The two of you looked at each other.
You’d meant exposure. But sudden memories of every time you and Loki had gone out to eat flashed through your mind.
Selfies, a baying crowd desperate to touch him, autographs- on paper and skin. His endless adoration, drinking in the attention which fed his superiority complex like an assembly line while you faded from his mind. The Real World reared with the force of a slap.
“It won’t be like that again,” he murmured knowingly, tilting your chin up to face him. He gazed down through half-lidded eyes, frowning with sincerity. But he didn’t believe it. Not fully. And with trepidation, you realised, neither did you.
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“Afternoon,” the waitress chirped as she handed you and Loki a menu. You thanked her nervously and pulled your cap down.
All around you was the polite buzz of conversation, local radio playing from a speaker behind the bar. Glass windows looked out onto the lake, endless sprawling water lapping at the shore beneath the window. The sun was beginning to set. Loki glanced upwards with a brief, dazzling smile. The woman’s eyes lingered on him as he ran a finger down the menu. They roamed up his arms, the chunk of cable-knit doing nothing to disguise the muscle beneath. On her gaze went, up the exposed curve of his lovebitten neck to the messy bun of dark hair knotted at base of his cap. Her stare widened.
Shit. You could tell the exact moment she clocked the infamous carve of his cheekbones as he sucked them in thoughtfully.
With a gasp, the waitress rocked back on her heels. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she whispered nervously, glancing between the two of you and then over her shoulder. ��But are you…” she leant closer, using a menu to shield her face from view. “Loki...from the Avengers?” Loki’s eyes met yours.
The air tingled with her excitement, vibrating unspoken words and exclamations. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, or sudden lust. Or both. Maybe she writes fanfiction about him, you thought.
And as you looked at him, the realisation of this moment’s importance seemed to blossom in Loki’s eyes. An ache grew in your stomach.
Please, you screamed silently. Begging him. A vein in his temple twitched as he nervously adjusted his feet beneath the table. Despite her attempt at covertness, people were staring. A weak smile fluttered at your lips as the seemingly inevitable turn of events teetered on the precipice. First the pomp, then the ceremony of his public adoration.
It would break the dam. This week was different. But it wasn’t real life. You would sidle off to the shadows, wait and wilt as each and every person took their piece of him that he willingly gave.
As it always was, so it shall be.
Unless- Loki cleared his throat.
“Howay, man!” he balked in a bamboozingly accurate Georgie accent, incredulity feigned to perfection. “But I get it wi' that gadgie aw' the time.” The waitress laughed, fanning herself with a menu. “Oh,” she gasped through an awkward smile. “Well, -” she looked at you with a wink. “You’re a lucky one, miss.” Her footsteps retreated as you stared at the list of dinner options, not seeing a single one. Stunned, you felt Loki’s fingers curl around your hand. It was moist with anxious sweat against the menu.
He dipped his chin down, catching your eyes under the rim of your cap. His were wide and beautiful, the deepest, clearest blue you had ever seen. You felt breaths begin to quicken in your chest, tears of happiness threatening to spill over as his grip tightened. “No,” Loki murmured quietly across the table, the velvet tones of his own voice back in fully laden force. “I’m the lucky one.” Your breath hitched as he brought your knuckles to his lips. He lowered his gaze, pausing before raising it to slowly meet your own.
Sunset warmth cast golden hues against his skin, green speckles in his irises bursting in glittering sparks. He let your curled fingers rest against his mouth.
“I always was,” he whispered lovingly against the skin. And you believed him.
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A/N: This series has given me SO much joy and I just want to say thank you to the people who've commented and reblogged your hearts out and just all-in-all love these fools as much as I do. I honestly truly wasn't expecting it. This won't be the last we see of this AU, I have something planned. But for now, I hope the story warmed you like some pumpkin-spice cocoa.
Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @megschaef98
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sunvmars · 7 months
Text
tart | s.r. [3]
pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader
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↞ previous | next ↠
word count: 2.4k
warnings: very, very brief smut mention !
summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help
a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned
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Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"
Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."
Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."
Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.
"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.
Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"
"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."
"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"
"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."
A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."
Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.
Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"
"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."
Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"
"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."
"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"
"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"
"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"
"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."
Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"
"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."
"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"
"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."
"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."
"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."
"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.
"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."
"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.
"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."
The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.
Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.
The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.
"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.
"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."
Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.
"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."
Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.
Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.
"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."
"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."
"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"
"But I'm going to find him first."
For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.
"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."
"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."
"Buck, this is something I have to do-"
"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."
Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.
"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."
Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."
Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.
"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."
Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."
Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."
He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"
Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."
"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.
Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.
"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."
With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.
As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.
Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"
"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"
"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.
With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.
As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.
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You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.
He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.
On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"
"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.
His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.
"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"
He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.
"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."
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taglist!
@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen
@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog
@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana
@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998
think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)
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Suffer In Silence x W.M
Mob Boss!Wanda x Police Officer!Reader
Maybe Wanda has a point, maybe you'd be better off agreeing with her terms... but even though you've figured this out, in no way are you going to make it easy on the redhead. No way, because you quite enjoy pissing her off.
Warnings: Kidnapping, being held hostage, darkish!wanda, beginning of Stockholm syndrome, mentions of murder and drugs, wanda being a hot mob boss, trust issues.
Part 4 of my '365 days' AU
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Word Count: 1.5k
Tag List:
@reginassweetheart
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My wrists have been rubbed raw with how often I've struggled against the ropes tied around them, but even though I know this there's no way I'm going to stop trying to escape anytime soon.
I heave as I hang my head low, why did a powerful mob boss have to find interest in me?
And why is there a part of me that doesn't actually want to escape?
~
Wanda watches through the cameras from her desk as she sighs and lets her head fall into her open hands, there's no way she's going to win Y/n's trust this way, she needs to go from a different angle, but how?
Wanda's head doesn't move from its spot on the monitor in front of her even as she hears the door to her office creak open, and Natasha's voice wafting through her ears,
"Miss, Mr Rogers is here, what should I do?"
Wanda's eyebrow soften as she finally looks up and into Nat's eyes, her long found friend as she smiles a crooked smile at her,
"You've talked with Steve, right?"
"Yes, Miss, I have, he's missed you."
Wanda's smile widens as she nods her head discreetly before standing up from her seat, her voice firm but soft as she speaks next,
"Alright, then, I'll go speak with him, he's just in the foyer correct?"
Wanda walks out and down the hallway as she feels Natasha follow closely behind her,
"Yes, Miss."
"Good, oh and Romanoff you and Barnes take some time off and spend it together."
Wanda winks at Natasha as she smirks at the subtle blush covering her friend's cheeks,
"Thank you, Miss."
Wanda feels as Natasha leaves her company, her feet echoing off the walls as she makes her way down the stairs and to the foyer, her lips lifting into an instant smile at the view of Steve and Peggy near the front door,
"Well, well, if it isn't the Rogers."
Wanda watches as both of their heads lift up to her, their eyes soft as they greet her before Wanda grins down at the little girl at their feet.
"Well, hello there little one, come give aunt Wanda a hug."
~~
Your neck is stiff and sore as your eyes begin to flutter open, you furrow your brows as you come face to face with two little blue eyes and a head of dirty blonde hair.
Your confusion grows tenfold as you're greeted with the small smile of a young girl.
She sits cross legged on the carpet in front of your feet as you look down at her with furrowed brows and a small frown on your lips.
You watch as she tilts her head to the side, her blue eyes wide with curiosity as she points up at you,
"Who are you?"
You begin to stutter before you gather yourself enough to speak properly again,
"Me? I-I'm Y/n."
The little girl's eyes light up as she squeals excitedly before jumping up to hug you around your stiff shoulders before taking a step back, confusion soon growing in her eyes as she looks down at your tied hands and legs,
"You're Aunt Y/n, you're with my Aunt Wanda... why are you tied up?"
Your eyes light up briefly before you play it cool again, your lips spreading into a soft smile as you look at the little girl,
"Hey, kiddo, I know we just met and all but could you do your Aunt a favour and untie me please?"
She looks at me with a huge grin, not realising the reason as to why I want to be let loose but I don't think too much about it as I feel her work to untie me before I stand up free.
I rub my raw wrists but soon stop as it's painful before ruffing up her hair,
"Thanks, kiddo, you're helping me a lot."
I smile once more before making my way to the open door before stopping at her small hesitant voice,
"Could you not leave yet? Could you play with me?"
Turning around I sigh at the cute pout she's wearing, before shrugging my shoulders,
"Fine, I'll stay and play with you, sweetheart."
Your eyes grow soft as you watch her squeal excitedly before you let out a sudden gasp as you feel her grip your hand within her own before she begins to pull you out the door,
"Come! I'll show you my dolls!"
~~~
You watch with a small smile as the little one- that you now know as Ellie shows you around what seems to be her bedroom with childlike wonder.
You stop as she stops though, her turning around with a frown as she looks up at you,
"Is everything okay, dear?"
She nods her head before speaking up, her voice soft and small as she holds your hand within her own,
"Do you love my Aunt Wanda, Y/n?"
You part your lips in surprise as you begin to stutter before stopping all together, your body kneeling down as you hold both of Ellie's hands within your own,
"Ellie, sweetheart, I-uh- Wanda and I's relationship's complicated.. but I-"
Your cut off when you both turn to see the door flung open and Wanda's angered face coming straight for you, until her face drops into a smile as you feel Ellie come out from behind your legs,
"Ellie! There you are darling!"
Wanda smiles wide as she opens her arms for Ellie to run into, you watch anxious as she glares at you over Ellie's shoulder, you look up to see two other people looking at you curiously.
You blush at the attention as you pull your sleeves down and over your bleeding raw wrists as you watch them both look down at them in slight confusion.
You shuffled awkwardly until they bring notice to you, the brown haired lady speaking first,
"Wanda, who's this?"
You look down at the ground as you hear Wanda speak,
"This, Peggy, is my girlfriend, Y/n."
You shrink in on yourself as you feel Wanda come towards you, her arms wrapping around your stiff frame as she kisses the side of your head before her lips move towards your ear,
"Act natural, and I won't tie you back up."
Wanda smiles at Peggy as she waits for you to relax into her hold, it takes you a while to but eventually you feel as your shoulders relax into her, your lips spreading into a smile as you pretend to the best of your ability.
You hold out your hand for her to shake and try to refrain from wincing as you shake her hand as strong as you can in your current state.
You blush as Peggy raises an eyebrow at you and you chuckle nervously as you take your hand back from within her hold as you look back down at the carpet, unsure of what to do in this awkward situation.
You hear Wanda nervously chuckle as well before she speaks up,
"Well then, how about I show you two to the door, I have some business to attend to."
A lump begins to form in your throat as anxiety begins to crawl up your back when you're inner monologue is interrupted by Peggy's warm voice speaking,
"Oh nonsense Wanda! You and Steve haven't talked in so long! How about you two catch up and I can take sweet Y/n here out to lunch with Ellie and I."
You look up in slight surprise but Peggy smiles gently at you as she gives you a wink at the way your eyes light up.
You hear Wanda begin to stutter as she speaks,
"Uh- Peggy there's no need for that."
You watch as Peggy's eye twitches slightly at Wanda before she speaks up again, a lot firmer this time,
"No, I insist. Ellie, would you like Y/n to come to lunch with us?"
You watch as Ellie jumps up and down in excitement, her lips spread in a grin as she runs up to you before jumping up and down, you smile at her as you lean forward to pick her up before placing her on your hip to hold,
"Yes! Y/n go to lunch with us."
You watch as Peggy's grin widens as she holds out her hand for you to take, you take it without hesitation as you stand next to her,
"Good, then it's settled, Y/n will come with us and you two can catch up."
You watch as Wanda's finger flex before she smiles at Peggy,
"Okay."
You follow beside Peggy as she walks back towards the front door, her voice carrying throughout the house as she yells,
"Don't wait up for us!"
Looking over your shoulder one last time you swear you could see Wanda's eyes light with a fiery red.
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simmerandwrite · 3 months
Text
Sink Into Me - 08 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader
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Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader
Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.
Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.
Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.
Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.
Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09
Wordcount: 8.3k
Warnings: canon level violence (guns, physical fighting), allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), some angst
Notes: HI I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. life, ya know? but enjoy this little treat, please. and.. uhm.. sorry.
---
“We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”
You took in a hard breath and scanned the man - he had a permanent smug look to him, something that made you feel unsettled. The tag around his neck with his badge indicated his name was Grant Ward, NYPD detective. 
“Give me back my phone,” you said, slowly emptying your lungs in an attempt to stay calm. “Now.”
Ward shook his head, grinning. “Not yet. C’mon, let’s chat.” He slipped your phone inside his jacket pocket and grabbed your elbow, urging you to step further across the sidewalk in front of a closed down shop. “I got your info from Hammond’s file. You were a witness on a little vehicular assault case a while back, right?”
Nothing about this felt proper or to procedure. But you wanted it to end as quickly as possible, so you nodded. 
“What I need to know is why Steve Rogers asked you to lie on your witness report and identify the wrong person.” 
“Excuse me?” Your voice cracked as you tried to piece together what he was saying. “I didn’t lie about anything. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Officer Hammond be following up with me - if there was an issue?”
“I’ve reopened the investigation.” Ward leaned against the building, glancing up and down the street casually as he spoke. “Your intentional misidentification put someone innocent in jail. How do you sleep at night?”
“I didn’t lie,” you repeated, swallowing hard. Hercules paced at your feet. 
“You’re lying right now. Rogers told you who to point out in that police lineup, didn’t he?”
You wanted to scream in this man’s face but given he was technically a person of the law, you resisted. Instead, you pursed your lips and opted to stay quiet. Shouldn’t you have a lawyer or something to represent you? God, why weren’t you into legal dramas instead of reality tv?
“Here’s what it looks like. Rogers asks you to help him out and in turn, you get a fancy new apartment. Isn’t that right?” Ward took a step forward and pointed past you, towards the rest of the block. “How else can you afford a luxury apartment working your little 9-5 gig? I verified your record of employment and something just doesn’t add up.”
Before you had a chance to reply to his asinine claim, he was reaching for his buzzing phone. “This is Ward.” You tried to listen to the other end of the call, but couldn’t make out the voice. 
He looked back at you, eyes roving up and down as he carried on with his phone conversation. “You’re kidding. That was all true? Wow. Okay. Yeah, I’m with her. Sure.” He raised his free hand and suddenly a nearby SUV was pulling up. “Heading there now.”
Your stomach twisted when Ward turned back to you. 
“Let’s go.” He tipped his head towards the vehicle, where the driver had gotten out to open the back door. “We’ve gotta move this chat elsewhere.”
Your eyes blew open, head shaking. “Absolutely not. Give me my phone and —“
Ward stepped towards you again, grabbing your hand that was holding onto Hercules' leash. “If you don’t get in that car willingly, you’ll have a dead dog on your hands. Is that what you want?” He flashed you a smile. “Let’s. Fucking. Go.”
--
“Storm coming tonight..”
Steve looked up from his plate of pasta, watching his mom across the table as she put down her cutlery. Sarah rubbed her hands together, tired with the weight of time and the pressure of weather changes that seemed to grow worse with each passing season. 
“I can feel it in these old joints,” Sarah continued, leaning back in her chair before glancing to the window above her kitchen sink.
“Ma,” Steve finally replied, quietly returning his own fork to the side of his plate. “Why don’t you skip the rest of this monologue about the weather and tell me what’s really on your mind?”
Steve tried to have dinner with his mother at least once a week, if time permitted. The last few months had been a bit chaotic for him though, mostly his own doing of course. And Sarah hadn’t pressed when he canceled. But, something about her tone and strange casual conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. In fact, he could read his mother really well and she was upset, maybe even mad at him. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was when his mother was upset with him.
He liked to nip it in the bud as quickly as he could.
Sarah sighed, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed down her son. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about who I ran into at the hospital a few weekends ago.”
“You gonna give me a clue?” Steve smirked, taking a long pause to enjoy a sip from his wine glass. “Who?”
When your name left his mother’s lips, Steve felt his chest tighten. He had very quickly and casually explained to her that you and he had called things off, respectfully asking Sarah not to press him for details. Surprisingly, she hadn’t asked any follow up questions, though Steve knew she hadn’t been feeling positive about the news. In fact, he had assumed his mom would have had a much more passionate reaction. And maybe it was still coming.
He took a deep breath. “Oh. And.. how is she?” Would it be possible for this conversation to only last one more sentence? Would he be able to get out of it without his mother making him feel any worse?
When Steve met his mom’s gaze again, he knew that question wasn’t what he should have asked. He was starting to think maybe saying nothing would have been best.
“How is she?” Sarah repeated, letting out a hard laugh. “Steven.”
“Ma, listen, what happened between us is..” He hesitated. Complicated was not the word he wanted to use, but what else could he say? “I had to cut things off. She’s safer this way.” 
There. His heart was torn off his sleeve and slapped onto his plate. 
“Steve,” Sarah was softer this time, releasing the anger from her shoulders as she reached across the table for his hand. “You’re not being fair. To yourself. How are you supposed to live this way? Don’t you want a family in the future? Or a break from.. everything?”
Steve squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Sarah waited another moment for him to say something, then stood and carried her plate to the sink. 
Without turning back around, she continued. “I told her about Hamilton House.”
Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair again and shaking his head. “Ma..”
“Why didn’t you just talk to her? She would have understood.”
“You barely made it out of that fire alive!” Steve pushed back from the table and met his mother at the sink, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I can barely live with myself as is, but if something happened to her too, I’d..”
“Honey,” Sarah’s voice was even quieter now as she pivoted to look at him. She reached her hand up to cradle his face. “You need to stop blaming yourself, please.”
How could he ever do that? The scars were still quite obvious on many parts of his mother’s body - 
“Steve.” Sarah took in another deep breath. “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. And so is she.” There was your name again, coming off of Sarah’s tongue like it just warmed her soul. “She’s good for you.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore.” A painful laugh gurgled up in Steve’s throat. “I made pretty sure she’ll never talk to me again, unfortunately.”
“Steven.” This time the soft edge had left Sarah’s tone. The disappointment was back. “Don’t tell me you pushed that girl away on purpose.”
“I’m a grown man who can take care of himself,” Steve repeated back to her, stepping away from the sink and turning to grab his coat. “I’ve gotta go, Ma. Thanks for dinner.”
Sarah grabbed his wrist, eyes bright with words she wouldn’t say. Instead, she shook her head and sighed quietly. “At least take a container of pasta for Bucky.”
---
The further the vehicle traveled beyond your neighbourhood, the further your stomach sank. You did your best to listen to the conversations happening between Ward and his driver, but nothing seemed clear. 
Where were you going? Were you in trouble? You hadn’t lied to the police - you knew better than that. But how could you prove that when clearly they had another story created? Was this about Steve? You weren’t even talking to him. What the hell was going on?
The only thing saving you from a breakdown was Hercules resting his head on your lap. Gently you scratched behind his ears, doing your best to reassure your dog as he did the same for you. 
You were going to be okay. There had to be a positive solution to this mess. 
Eventually, the vehicle slowed down in an industrial area you weren’t familiar with. In the growing darkness of the night, everything kind of looked the same - rows of large warehouse style buildings, some in much worse shape than the others. As you approached one of the buildings, a garage door opened up to allow you access.
“Let’s go,” Ward barked out as the car stopped, quickly sliding through his door and throwing the one closest to you open. He reached for your nearest wrist. “But first..”
Handcuffs. What you could only assume were police-grade handcuffs joined your wrists together, despite your protests. Ward was choosing every opportunity to remind you he had a gun, so when he told you to head towards the staircase leading out of the parking area, all you could do was comply.
The driver, some other nameless brute listening to Ward’s every word, held on to Hercules’ leash and followed behind. The panic within you stirred.
The building had clearly once been a thriving warehouse or multi-level business hub. Now, it was reduced to whatever criminal activity these men were tied up in. Every second window was boarded up or leaking in cold air through broken shards, with the evidence of previous occupants littering the floors. Old desks, chairs, appliances laid strewn about.
Ward guided you across the second floor, leading towards the far side of the room. You could hear other voices as you approached. He yanked the door open and pressed against your back for you to enter ahead of him.
You stumbled past the threshold, lifting your head up to look around the room. It felt out of place, given the state of the building. This room remained intact from days before, the remnants of an executive office with a large boardroom table sitting opposite the broken windows. A man you didn’t recognize was seated behind an oversized mahogany table, a burning cigar hanging off his lips. Behind him, a disheveled blond wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket stood scrolling through his phone.
That man you did recognize – you were certain he had been one of the men who had broken into your apartment. You could feel the familiar wave of panic come over you again.
Sitting in a pair of chairs in front of the desk were another two men – one dressed in a long overcoat over his suit, with perfectly coiffed hair. The other donned more casual clothes, well worn with a scowl across his face, strong and silent. You thought perhaps you recognized them, too. You might have seen them at Shield or maybe they had worked with Steve? 
“This is her?” The man with the cigar asked, rising from his seat. The other two seated men had turned their heads to look in your direction, then stood the same. 
Ward laughed, returning his gun to his jacket, and reaching a hand to grip your neck. He urged you closer to the desk. 
“Russo – you’re sure?” The same man asked again, shooting a glance at one of the other two men. Ah, nice suit, nice hair - Russo. He had interrupted you and Steve, that day at his office.
“Yep. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either,” Russo replied with a dry laugh, stepping away from the desk and waiting to the side with the other man, Mr. Strong and Silent.
“Walker, you’re on dog duty,” Ward added after. He snapped his fingers and the guy scrolling on his phone was at attention, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hercules’ leash from the driver. 
Hercules whimpered at the back of the room.
You tried to look towards your confused pup, but Ward’s hands landed on your shoulders. He pushed down to encourage you to sit in one of the vacant seats at the desk.
Finally, the man with the cigar looked at you. A tight smirk curled up on his face as he said your name out loud. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’m Brock. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
You sat still, hands resting on your lap. You resisted replying with some snappy commentary and instead dug your fingernails into your palms. Maybe you needed to comply, but God, what was the point of all this?
“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” you said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I told him-” you jerked your head at Ward, “-everything I said to Officer Hammond was true. Steve didn’t ask me to lie about anything and I’m sorry if someone you know ended up in jail but I had to tell the truth.”
Brock raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve gotta fix this and you’re going to help.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line. 
“You’re going to meet with Hammond and tell him you lied about-”
You shook your head. “I didn’t lie.”
Brock abandoned his cigar and slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt me, darling.” He took a breath and started again. “You’re going to meet with Hammond tomorrow morning and set things straight, alright?”
“And if I don’t?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you asked your question. 
Brock leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You’re really asking that? Damn. Well, if you don’t - you’re never going to see your dog again, for starters.”
Your face fell and you shuffled in the chair again, turning to look back towards Hercules. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“What do you think, Walker? The mutt would be good for the pit, huh? They could use some fresh meat for the next fight.”
You gasped as Hercules pulled at his leash, trying to walk to you. Walker held the leash tight.
“P-please. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s just..” Your voice shook as you turned and looked back at Brock. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Hammond.” You just had to agree and get out of here. Once you were home, you could call the police station and tell them the truth and and and–
“Hammond is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning at the station.” Ward was looking down at your phone, tapping away at the screen. Great, he was just sending messages on your behalf. You hated that. Clearly you were not getting your phone back. Fuck, how were you going to get out of this?
“Now,” Brock leaned onto his elbows on the desk, returning his cigar to his mouth for a long drag. “Let’s talk about Rogers.”
You gulped.
“I need every little dirty secret you’ve got,” Brock said with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Talk.”
“I don’t..” You faltered, glancing around the room quickly. Russo was watching you carefully while his partner seemed to be preoccupied with his feet, his eyes were drawn down. “I don’t know what you think I might know.. Steve and I.. We.. He broke up with me a while ago.”
A laugh escaped Brock. “I heard that wasn’t the case.”
Russo stepped forward. “Rogers took you home from Shield a few weekends ago, did he not? Drove you right back into your apartment then even walked you to the door?”
You stilled. Why did these men know about that? Were they following you? Or Steve? How did they know where you lived?
“I don’t know anything, I swear. Even when we were..” You closed your eyes. “We didn’t talk about business.”
“You know, I don’t believe you.” Brock let out a frustrated huff and tapped his cigar ash to the floor. “Let’s start easy, alright? Rogers has a ledger, the Bible for all his transactions. Where does he keep it?”
You shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a ledger or–”
“Bullshit.” It was Russo jumping in now. “You were fucking him for months. Christ, give us something.”
If you shifted your head back and forth in a shake anymore, you were going to give yourself whiplash. “I-I don’t, really.” You didn’t like how they were both crowding in on you, guns visible on their hips as their voices escalated. “Steve didn’t tell me things - he.. I didn’t..”
“Where does he keep his safe? What buildings did he take you to?” Brock continued on, reciting any thought or question that seemed to jump into his head. “I need to know which Senator is really in his pocket. And what he promised to Rhodes.”
You repeated yourself again and again and again as they bombarded you. “I don’t know, I don’t know! He would never tell me those things.”
“Think harder then.” Brock stood up in a fury, circling the desk to plant himself in front of you. “I need something fucking useful.”
Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of something, anything to stop this. Everything you retained about Steve wouldn’t be what they wanted - that he was an old soul, a gentleman who kept your best interests at heart. Who loved old musicals and his mother. Who cared deeply about things but had hurt you deeply, too. None of that would have been helpful so what the fuck were you supposed to do?
“I..” You let out a breath. Would it be worth it to lie?
“If you say ‘you don’t know’ one more goddamn time..” Brock leaned forward, closing in the space between you and reaching for your jaw. He held it between his fingers, keeping you in his grasp waiting for an answer. 
When you didn’t respond, Brock growled and reached for his cigar, flipping it in his fingers and bringing the burning end closer and closer to your exposed neck. You could feel the heat before it even touched your skin and all you could do was scream in anticipation. 
“I don’t– please! Please don’t-” You pressed yourself into the chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible. But, the burning sensation never came.
“Hey–” This was a new voice. The Strong and Silent man lingering near Russo had rushed between you and Brock, shoving him away before the cigar made contact with your skin.  “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.”
Brock pushed him back. “This has nothing to do with you, Castle. Back the fuck off.” 
Castle didn’t move - acting as a barricade between you and Brock. They stood at a standstill, and eventually Brock let out a long dramatic sigh. “Ward.” He snapped his fingers again and Ward came forward. Once again, a hand landed on your shoulder.
“Take her up to the roof.”
---
“Do we not fucking knock anymore?” Steve called out as Bucky burst into his office, dragging Peter by the collar as he did.
Steve’s patience had run thin following dinner with his mother. She had managed to stir everything else up again, the feelings Steve was desperately trying to eliminate from his heart. Yet, they hadn’t dulled over time like he wanted. They remained steady, as steady as the beat of his heart. 
“She’s good for you.”
On top of that, they had managed to clear out most of the out of territory drug dealers creeping into Brooklyn. But it hadn’t really stopped. The drugs still found their way in, and the problems were escalating moreso. Angry clients, aggravated partners, a particularly frustrated future Mayor who needed Steve’s compliance and trusted network underground for insight. 
The last thing Steve wanted to deal with now was another issue. But when Steve saw the panicked look in Bucky’s eyes as he grabbed Peter’s shirt, Steve paused.
“Show him.” Bucky urged Peter forward, eyes wide in a panic. “Now.”
Steve stood from his chair slowly, meeting the young man in the middle of his office. “What’s going on? Is this about Beck again?”
“No, sir. No. It’s uh..” Peter’s hand was shaking as he gripped his cellphone, tapping on the screen before he glanced between Bucky and Steve again. “I keep an eye on social media - mostly just to see what’s happening, who’s hanging out where. My friend Ned he..” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. No one knows it’s me who watches their stuff. So. I was clicking through John Walker’s Instagram stories - that guy is an idiot, by the way. Always trying to bait women to find him at clubs or wherever. And..”
Peter tapped through something on his screen then turned it toward Steve. “Mr. Barnes said he recognized the dog in the background of this video..” 
Steve snatched the phone and pressed play on the screen recording. John Walker was in the middle of the frame, filming himself with the front camera as he talked about which bar he’d be showing up at later. But none of that mattered to Steve. What did matter was the dog tied up in the background, pulling at his lead as he started to bark. 
“Christ. Sorry about the mutt. Dealing with something for work..” 
Steve raised his eyes from the screen, eyebrows furrowed. “When was this posted?”
Peter swallowed before he replied. “About 20 minutes ago.”
Bucky turned to Steve. “Is that..?”
All Steve could do was growl, shoving the phone back at Peter. “Send that to me. Right now.” Steve reached for his own phone, heading out the door of his office towards the primary club facilities. Bucky was at his feet, asking what he could do to help. 
“Buck, call Kate. I need a timestamp for when Hercules was picked up.” 
Bucky nodded and tore off, phone to his ear. 
Steve called Clint directly. “Barton, I need your help.”
---
Kate confirmed you had picked up Hercules just before they closed. She didn’t notice anything concerning, aside from your general demeanor seeming quiet. 
Clint reviewed security footage outside your apartment building entrance, back door and lobby. No sign of you. It’s possible you had picked up your dog then gone elsewhere, but Steve wasn’t convinced. 
Fuck. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck. 
Steve paced his office again and again, waiting desperately for some information. Peter and Thor had stolen off to a few well known bars to see if they could track down Walker or any of his friends. 
Clint had gone to your building to troll the neighborhood and seek out any additional video footage that might help. 
Steve called Vision to see if he could connect with Wanda to get some information about where you might be, without leading to anything especially suspicious. 
Steve needed to know where you were and if you were okay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew you were safe - until he saw you himself. 
This was the fucking risk, wasn’t it? Letting you in. People were going to use your relationship against him. It was staring him right in the face all along. Fuck, how could he live with himself if you got hurt?
Steve let out a fit of rage that had been brewing within him. He grabbed the rocks glass off his desk, still half full of melting ice, and sent it flying into the back of his door. 
God fucking damnit. He didn’t like any of this. With no news from Vision and Wanda, his mind was going to bad places.
Steve stalked across the broken glass and threw his door open, grabbing his coat as he left. He found Bucky downstairs at the bar, phone in hand as Natasha leaned beside him. 
“Please tell me someone has some fucking news to share,” Steve growled out as he approached. He didn’t even have to ask Natasha to pour him a drink, as it quickly appeared on the bar. 
“No Walker sightings yet,” Bucky said as he glanced at his phone. As he turned the screen, a new message appeared. 
The text didn’t contain any information or words, just a simple location pin. Bucky tapped on it, revealing an address on the outskirts of Brooklyn. 
“Who sent that?” Steve asked, eyeing over Bucky’s shoulder as he drained his glass. 
“No clue. I don’t know the number.” Bucky replied quietly. “No message either. Just a thumbs up emoji. But the timing is suspect.”
Steve shook his head. What did he have to lose? “Let’s go. Have Sam meet us there.”
---
You should have worn more layers, warmer clothes. Not that you anticipated being abducted on your way home. But you trusted the warm fall morning and now all you had was regret. A thin sweater barely kept you covered and the looming thunder overhead meant the threat of rain was very real. 
Ward had dragged you up the barren staircases to the roof, where he had then removed one of your handcuffs only to attach it to some external pipe system that hugged the outside wall of the building. You could sit on the dirty cold roof or stand and try to peer down, but nothing else. You were stuck. 
When you tried to plead with Ward  for your escape, he only smirked then offered an alternative. 
“Tell you what - if you get on your knees for me, I’ll remove the handcuffs altogether.”
As an answer to that proposal, you spit in his face. He really didn’t like that - which left you pushed to the ground and cuffed with no coverage from wind or impending rain. God fucking damnit. 
Once Ward disappeared through the door again, you yelled for help. If it made any lick of difference, you had no idea. There was another building very close by, yelling distance at least. But it looked abandoned just the same. On the other side of the roof, it looked like an emergency staircase existed. 
Not like you’d be able to escape. You seemed very stuck.
Were they going to leave you out there all night? Was this some scare tactic? What did they want from you - a detailed breakdown of everything you knew about Steve? You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. Despite the ricochet of emotions you had been through with Steve, you still felt.. something to him. Be it loyalty or kindness or whatever, you couldn’t throw him under the bus. 
Steve was a good person. You saw that in him often. But these men? You weren’t so sure. 
What if they left you until you had to meet with Hammond? Ten hours in the cold and rain. You could survive that, maybe. Maybe. 
Thunder rumbled above you. Rain started to fall. 
Fuck. Maybe not. 
In an attempt to make yourself as small as possible, you sat against the side wall and wrapped your free arm around yourself. It didn’t do much to protect you from the rain, but it helped retain what little body heat you still had. 
You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before you heard the access door burst open. You looked up and braced yourself, but felt almost relieved to see it wasn’t Ward again. 
It was Castle. 
He hesitated when he saw you, then quickly hurried in your direction. 
You closed your eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry - I don’t have anything to share about Steve  - I can’t remember if there was—”
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not here about that.” Castle crouched down in front of you. “I can’t let you go but let me help, alright?” He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. “I’ll get out of these cuffs at least.”
You braced yourself as he gently touched your wrist, using his tool to work through the lock mechanism. “Thank you.. uhm, Mr. Castle?”
He chuckled, barely. “Frank.”
You nodded, grateful as he freed your hand and left the cuffs dangling. “Thank you, Frank.”
“Over there,” Frank turned his head and pointed to the middle of the roof, where a small maintenance structure stood. It had a sloping roof that could provide more coverage. “Go. You’ll be covered at least.”
Frank got to his feet and offered you his hand. Once you were standing, he shrugged off his own heavy coat and handed it to you. 
“Frank,” you clutched the coat and met his gaze, eyes blurring from the rain. “Can you just.. make sure my dog is okay? Hercules? He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he’s all I have and- and..”
Frank gave you a curt nod. “Go.” He motioned back to the small shed and you nodded too. 
You had no idea why Frank was helping you. But you decided it had to be a good sign, right?
---
Steve had no idea what he was walking into. He had done this before – going in blind to certain situations was the nature of his entire job. It wasn’t always possible to anticipate who he would run into, if the person he trusted would deliver, if weapons were involved. But given his state of mind and the all-consuming worry he had about your wellbeing; he didn’t really care what he was faced with.
He just needed to figure out where you were and ensure you were safe. 
The location that had been sent to Bucky was outside of Brooklyn, just barely. Along an industrial neighbourhood, where plenty of abandoned factories and distribution centers lived, the coordinates lead them to a nondescript building. 
Steve and Bucky climbed out of the car, strapped with more than enough guns and ammunition to fight their way through whatever and whoever they were about to face. As they approached, Sam jogged into view, too.
“Thor couldn’t find Walker anywhere,” Sam provided as an update once they were waiting outside. “But Peter’s little tech friend managed to track a location for some recent postings to this general area..”
“Sounds like a likely place to look,” Bucky concluded, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Steve.
Steve took in a deep breath, eyebrows narrowed as he gazed at the doors ahead of him. Raising his hands, he tugged at the collar of his coat and smoothed it out before nodding. He was ready to deal with this.
“If she’s anywhere in here, her safety is priority, you understand?” Steve glanced from Bucky back to Sam, waiting for their own nod of understanding. “If anyone put her in danger, they’re going to pay. But not at her expense.”
Bucky pressed his knuckles into his metal palm, a coy smirk raising on his lips. “Here’s hoping I get to fuck up Walker’s face again.”
Sam took the lead and yanked the dilapidated entry door open, busting open the lock mechanism with little effort. The main level they entered on was mainly being used for vehicle parking and what looked like some storage. A staircase led up to the next level.
Steve carried on - striding to the top of the staircase and heading through the doors. The entire building was in bad shape but this wasn’t their first rodeo.
Someone was hiding out somewhere. And when he found them, it wasn’t going to be pretty. 
“Sam - call everyone to be standby, including Thor and his brother. Get Barton to scope out next door, too. Lots of windows for coverage, the rooftop. Remind him about the Bullseye protocol.” Steve ran a hand through his hair then glanced to his right, motioning to the far door with Bucky. “You’re with me.”
In a few long strides, Steve reached the door and waited. Then, he raised a hand and knocked against it. Bucky stood behind his left shoulder. 
Someone on the other side of the door was yelling, then eventually they heard heavy stomping as someone approached. When the door opened, Steve didn’t hesitate - he leaped forward and reached for the collar of whoever it was. 
Steve growled. Grant Ward.
“Oh Jesus fucking–” Ward yelped out, trying to pull away from Steve’s grasp as Steve backed him into the room. “Take it fucking easy, Rogers. What the fuck are you–”
“Where is she?” Steve’s voice boomed, holding Ward in his grip as he glanced around the room. It was a fairly sparse leftover office, but sitting at the end of the large boardroom table was Billy Russo, Frank Castle and Brock Rumlow himself. A few other nameless thugs waited behind them, guns at the ready. “Where IS SHE?”
Steve threw Ward to the ground, reaching for his gun as the men at the table stood up and drew their own weapons, too. Bucky followed in behind Steve and kicked Ward down when he tried to get back on his feet.
“Stay down,” Bucky said to Ward. 
Rumlow moved from his spot slowly, waving his gun around and placing it down on the table as he walked towards Steve. “Rogers.”
Steve didn’t respond, darting his eyes from Rumlow back to Russo and Castle at the table. Russo looked away, suddenly preoccupied with anything else but Steve. Castle, though, also put his gun away.
“Rumlow.” Steve growled out your name this time. “Where. Is. She?”
Brock smirked. “Who? Oh.. yes. Sure. We just met. As far as I know, you two aren’t together anymore. What’s the concern?”
“If you fucking touched her-” Steve raised his hand again, gun pointing directly at Rumlow as they stood apart. “Tell me where she is.”
“Me and Russo have been talking. I think the three of us could be working together better. If you haven’t been picking off my dealers one by one, the pot could be a lot sweeter.”
“You and your drugs aren’t worthy of Brooklyn.” Steve stepped forward. “Tell me.”
“You know, I didn’t want us to meet like this.” Rumlow brought his hands up, in a faux act of surrender then slowly moved one of them forward to encourage Steve to put his weapon down. “In fact, I went through a lot of trouble to keep your pretty face away from here.”
“Not much trouble, it seems. And it sounds like you have a mole,” Steve shot back, sparing a quick glance back around the room. Russo looked away again but Steve met Castle’s eyes for a beat, then turned back to Rumlow. “Loyalty is rare around these parts.”
“Speaking of loyalty - your girl.” Rumlow stepped back and let out a long breath.
Steve matched him and stepped forward, raising his gun up once more. “If you laid one fucking hand on her–”
“I’ll tell you where she is after we chat, alright? I need a promise from you - to share the territory.”
Steve huffed, lips pursed as he scanned Rumlow’s face. “Tell me where she is.” Steve could hear Bucky shuffling behind him, metal fist clenched, growing just as impatient as Steve was. 
“Nah.” Rumlow shrugged, glancing around the room. “If you won’t negotiate, my lips are sealed. I still need her, gotta clear something up with the cops. Then, I don’t know. I guess she’s nice enough on the eyes, bit thicker than what I usually go for but maybe I’ll get her to warm my bed for a–”
Steve wasn’t an idiot. Rumlow was baiting him. And god fucking damnit it worked. Steve surged ahead, letting out another growl of rage as he attacked Rumlow with his fists.
On the other side of the room, Ward slid over to kick against Bucky’s knee - angering Bucky all the same. Sam rushed in to join them at the first sound of chaos. It wasn’t quite contained and really, it didn’t come as a surprise that everyone in the room was more than prepared for a fight. Rumlow’s extra lackeys seemed more than charged enough for the action. Bucky easily took care of Ward on his own, as Sam darted between helping Steve with Rumlow and the others as Russo tried to keep his distance. 
“Where is she?” Steve had Rumlow on the ground, pummeling his fists into Rumlow’s jaw. He didn’t get a response, as the sound of gunshots sounded out, ending with shards of glass flying across the floor. In a brief moment of hesitation after, Steve took in the rest of the room. 
Russo had slipped out. Castle too. 
“Sam!” Steve stood quickly, keeping his foot against Rumlow’s neck. 
Sam hurried over and tagged in as Steve rushed through the door to follow where the other two had gone. Running towards the staircase, he looked upwards and could hear the distinct sound of hurrying feet and the slamming of a metal door.
He bounded up the stairs towards the roof.
---
The rain continued to fall, although it had at least slowed down to a cool drizzle. It didn’t mean much since you were already soaking wet, though the coat from Castle had helped. It hadn’t really fit you but the extra layer kept you marginally more comfortable, despite the fatigue and hunger setting in. Was anyone else going to check on you? Would Castle come back to help?
Did.. did Steve know what was going on? Although - how would he even find out? Fuck, you kept going over everything again and again and again. The steps you took today, the conversation you had with Sarah a few weeks ago, Steve’s last words to you at your apartment…
You wish things had gone differently. Maybe in a different life or timeline, it might have all worked out.
Gunshots.
You could hear gunshots from somewhere nearby. Downstairs in the building, maybe. Truthfully, at least up on the roof, you were away from the reality of this situation - that these people had guns and clearly weren’t afraid to use them. Up there, in the rain, you could ignore all of that.
But no, here was the glaring reminder. A few more shots sounded out then it seemed to stop. You tried to keep ignoring it, laying your back flat against the wall of the structure until you heard the door open again. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look until you heard someone barking out your name. This time the voice belonged to Russo.
A set of footsteps tracked further onto the roof, but you held your safe position. Russo finally appeared ahead of you, a scowl etched on his face. “I thought Ward tied you up. Whatever, let’s go.” He grabbed your closest wrist, urging you away from your hiding space. You tried to yank yourself away.
“Please, I don’t want to-”
“Bill - come on, can’t we just drop all this?” Frank came into your eyeline next, looking you over quickly then back towards the door. “Rogers isn’t dumb, he’ll follow us up here anyway.”
Your heart jumped at Steve’s name. He was here, he was going to get you away from this.
Russo’s grip tightened on your wrist, though he turned to look at Frank. “The plan remains the same - we need her to talk to Hammond so Rogers can land some jail time. It’s the only way we can get ahead.”
Frank let out a noncommittal sigh. “Rumlow is a fuckin’ idiot. You don’t think his plan is to screw us over later too?”
“I don’t give a shit about that right now,” Russo growled, looking back towards you. “Let’s go.”
Frank hesitated again, but didn’t argue any further. You pleaded again as they took you to the far side of the roof, where the emergency fire escape stairs were. Russo let you go momentarily as he stalked over, peering down towards the stairs. 
“They should hold up, I hope” he said with a shrug, motioning his head for you to go. “Ladies first.”
You shook your head, taking a step back and glancing towards the door instead. “No, I..” You turned on your heel.
A gunshot sounded out behind you, loud and piercing. You screamed, eyes wide as you turned back. Russo was scowling again, holding his gun high as he shot it upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly, pointing it at you directly instead. If that wasn’t enough of a warning. “Down you go. Now.” 
You glanced at Frank, who remained completely stoic as he looked between you and Russo. 
Suddenly, the door flew open again. You all turned to look.
A wave of relief flooded through you - it was Steve. He called your name as he walked towards you, never breaking his eye contact with you. In an instant, all your worries and doubts and everything seemed to shatter as he looked at you with such gentleness and grace.
Russo let out a hard laugh, waving his gun for a brief moment before aiming it back at you. “No time for your cute reunion. Let us walk away, Rogers.”
“Sweetheart,” Steve didn’t even bother replying to Russo, though he did stop in his tracks when he realized Russo had a gun pointed at you. But, Steve carried on, repeating your name. “Are you okay?”
You swallowed hard, jaw shaking as you nodded. 
Steve softened, for a fraction of a second. You knew he could tell you weren’t being honest. But what were you supposed to do? You were a hostage, soaking wet on a roof, with a gun pointed in your direction - no, you were not okay.
You watched as Steve transformed again, soft eyes replaced by hard lines, a tight jaw. He finally broke your gaze and turned his attention to Russo and Castle. “Let her go and we’ll all walk away from this unscathed.”
A loud laugh escaped Russo. “Right. I don’t think so. We’re walking away from this with the leverage we need.”
You watched as Steve took in a deep breath, then reluctantly put his hands up. “What do you want, Russo? Money, territory, names? What? I’ll give you whatever you want - just put your gun down and let her go.”
“You think I’m an idiot?” Russo shook his head. “No, I’m not playing this game.”
“This isn’t a fucking game,” Steve continued, reaching his hand slowly for his gun. He raised it up then just as quickly tossed it behind himself. “Please, Bill. Just leave her out of this.” 
“Billy..” Frank finally spoke up too. “Let’s call it, okay? Sounds like Rogers is willing to talk and–”
“No.” Russo took a step closer to you, gun firm in hand. “No, we’re going to–”
Before you realized what was happening, you weren’t even standing on your own two feet anymore. A flurry of noises rang out around you - screaming, gunshots, shouting. Someone had wrapped their arms around you – you fell towards the ground – you landed on.. Steve. It was Steve.
He had run towards you in the action, caging you in his arms as you both landed on the rooftop together. Safe. Alive. Steve shielded you with his own body from the noise and chaos happening around you. You didn’t know who had been shooting who, if anyone escaped or made it down the fire escape. All you knew is that you were safe, in Steve’s arms.
Steve was whispering out your name, again and again, like some sort of prayer on his lips. His words were wrapped in apologies, in cries for your safety, in hushed words that begged for reassurance. As everything else seemed to quiet down, he gently pushed himself up to peer down at you. 
“Sweetheart, I’m so–”
“Steve, it’s okay. I’m okay.. I’m..c-cold.” 
He shook his head and quickly shifted again, standing up and helping you back to your feet, too. He shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over you. Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it down the side of your face, wiping away stray droplets of water with his thumb. His palm was warm against your cheek, you could feel his whole heart pulsing as he held you. 
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m–”
“Steve!” Bucky’s voice broke you both from the spell. Steve reluctantly looked away from you, pivoting slightly as he looked towards Bucky running in their direction. Across the roof, both Frank and Russo were on their knees, hands wrapped behind their backs.  A makeshift bandage was wrapped around one of Russo’s biceps.
Wait, had someone shot him? It couldn’t have been Steve, he had put his gun down. Would Frank have..
Bucky leaned in slightly and mumbled into Steve’s ear, then they both looked across the roof towards the adjacent building. Bucky waved in that direction and Steve nodded, then they both turned back to you.
Before Steve could say anything else, you reached for his shirt. “Steve - you..we need to find Hercules. They said.. They..” You closed your eyes tight, head shaking as you tried to form your words. “They were going to take him somewhere to fight. I don’t know if..”
Bucky stood up tall again. He said your name firm, like a promise. “I’ll find him.”
As Bucky left, Steve wrapped his arms around you again - tighter this time. With one hand, he secured your back and the other cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t say anything and you couldn’t find any words either. 
---
You were back at Steve’s apartment. You thought you’d never see those big windows overlooking Brooklyn ever again and yet, there you were. Safe.
Safe and warm, following a long shower in Steve’s guest bathroom. Stripping away your damp clothes and stealing away into the stream for longer than probably necessary had been a nice escape. Especially given that Steve had driven you back to his place in silence - though it wasn’t as awkward as before. It just felt like maybe there were things you both needed to say but couldn’t bring yourself to mention yet.
Before you had left the building earlier, Steve hadn’t let you leave his sight. Well, except for about ten minutes where Bucky hovered over you instead.
Steve brought you inside, back downstairs to that same boardroom and office space. But this time, you weren’t faced with bad guys with guns. Well, the bad guys remained but the guns were gone.
All four of them were bound and seated at a chair. Ward’s head was lolled to the side, Brock had a bloody face, Russo and Castle were mostly left without much damage. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to last.
Steve squeezed your hand, gently turning you away from looking at them. 
“Hey,” he said quietly, tipping your chin up with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened? What they did?”
You swallowed hard, eyes wide for a moment as you considered his question. What was he going to do?
“Don’t overthink it, okay? Just tell me what you think I should know.”
You let out a breath then recounted everything. Ward ambushing you on the sidewalk, Brock threatening you, Russo joining in…
“But Frank he..” You finally spared a glance over your shoulder. Frank sat up straight in his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. “He helped me. Tried to protect me, gave me his coat..”
Steve nodded, looking in Frank’s direction the same way. Steve called for Sam, then gave him another nod and Sam went to untie Frank from his chair. 
It was only a few moments later that Bucky showed up with Hercules, who - thank god - looked unharmed, if a little worked up. You couldn’t help but start to cry as you broke away from Steve and rushed to your son. 
But, It wasn’t lost on you how quickly Bucky led you away from the room with your dog. Or how the door shut behind you, leaving Steve and Sam in there with the rest of the men, the overlapping sounds and sounds of distress…
When you finally decided you had wasted enough water and regained all the proper feeling in your body, you shut off the water and let out a long sigh. Outside on the counter, folded neatly beside your warm towel, was some clothes you had left at Steve’s ages ago. Soft and clean layers to keep your temperature steady as you got ready for bed.
You supposed it was a choice you made - agreeing to go home with Steve instead of back to your own apartment. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep there - not tonight. And you knew Steve would insist on staying and keeping guard outside your door anyway. So it made more sense this way.
After you changed, you found Hercules waiting for you in the hallway. You could hear Steve in the living room, speaking quite passionately on his end of a phone call.
“Jim, this is the only deal I’m making. Proof of your dirty cop aside, I’m handing you Rumlow alive on a silver platter, even though I should have let him bleed out. So you have to do this for me. I don’t give a fuck about protocol..” There was a heavy pause. “Every instance of her name on any police report - gone. I don’t want her attached to any of it, do you understand? No trace of her. I don’t care - redact it or burn it. Get that done and I’ll deliver Rumlow to you in the morning. Understood?” 
You knew you probably shouldn’t be listening, but it was your name he was mentioning.
“As for Russo, I’m dealing with that myself. But keep him on your radar. If you need another arrest to clench your win, you can have him once I’m done.”
You quietly slipped into the guest bedroom once you realized his call had ended. Once Hercules followed you in, you shut the door. Fuck. What happened now? Maybe you and Steve needed to talk about all of this - you definitely needed to talk about it.
You heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedrooms and Steve stopped outside your door. You held your breath, wondering if he would say your name or knock. But - nothing. His phone buzzed again and he disappeared into his bedroom.
With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the door. 
---
Mentally, Steve was exhausted.
Physically, his energy peaked in the midst of the action and hadn’t seemed to peter off yet. 
You were safe, you were safe, you were safe.
Why couldn’t he calm down? You were one wall away, falling asleep. Safe. He got to you before anything critical happened. Christ, nothing should have happened in the first place.
Following his long frustrating phone call with Rhodes, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to say everything that was weighing down his heart - but your door was closed and he couldn’t even find it in himself to knock.
You were probably even angrier with him than before - given that this was all his fault. But that was fine with him. He could deal with your anger if that meant you had any feelings towards him left. Anger counted.
He rinsed off in the shower then pulled on a pair of pajama pants before falling into bed, not that he was tired. His brain was wired and maybe an allnighter was in his future. 
Steve sent off a few last messages to Bucky and Sam, then discarded his phone on the nightstand. He leaned back against the headboard and–
There was a knock at his bedroom door. You were knocking. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried to open the door, just as you were about to push it open yourself.
“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.
You shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide. You just nodded again, crawling in and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.
---
CHAPTER 07 - CHAPTER 09
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evilhorse · 11 months
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Steve Rogers, patrolman by day! Captain America by night!
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embroid-away · 1 year
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What If: Captain America Were Revived Today? #44 (April 1983) by Peter B. Gillis and Sal Buscema; Original Image by John Romita Sr.
In this What If? Marvel tale, Captain America is unfrozen in 1983 rather than the 1960s. Without the leadership of Steve Rogers, The Avengers disband. Meanwhile, a Captain America imposter, who calls himself a "real American," has decided to use his newfound influential media status to publicly support a National Identity Card to "deal with illegal aliens,” to suggest that members of civil rights groups "ought to think seriously as to whether or not their actions contribute to the strengthening of communist enemies," and declare that if those groups tear the country apart with protests, martial law is justified "for the peace to find a solution.”
Neighborhoods with large black populations (e.g., Harlem) are walled off and forced into poverty, and one character even mentions that Jewish people are being “put back into camps.” The right-wing politicians make sure that things like this aren’t shown on television, keeping the majority of the American public ignorant of the horrors committed with their indifferent support. The public are simultaneously told that with some sacrifices, America can be free once again. The fake Captain America confronts a group of peaceful protestors, and he is shot by a sniper (in what reads like an inside job), allowing the police to have “reason” to attack the protestors. The imposter does not die and instead uses the attack to provide more reason for the violent crackdown against protesting groups.
When the true Captain America is unfrozen, he is horrified to see what America has become, especially with his emblem stamped all over it. He immediately seeks out the resistance forces (who clearly represent the Black Panther Party) and joins their cause, stating that "the wrongs [he's] seen will take much more than one man to right -- but [he's] got a name to clear, a costume to unsoil-- and a country to die for!!"
By the time Steve joins them, the resistance only has one chance left to stop the American downfall: a political convention where the "America First" party will be able to secure its support to sweep the national elections and allow them "to return America to the pure and great nation [the] forefathers envisioned."
The resistance strikes just as the convention begins. The Captain America imposter is no match in a fight against the true Captain America -- especially against a Steve Rogers who's fucking pissed. ("Get up so I can knock you down!!")
With the imposter knocked unconscious, Captain America addresses the convention crowd, warning that an America that does not represent all its people does not deserve to exist at all; that liberty can be "as easily snuffed out [in America] as in Nazi Germany" and "as a people, we are no different from them."
The crowd realizes that the man speaking before them is the true Captain America and cheers. Captain America holds his hand up and silences them, stating that he will not allow them the chance to simply replace one idol with another. He alone can’t undo the horrible damage, and he pleads that there’s still a chance for the people to “find America once again.”
Fascism doesn’t change its tune, just its singers.
A 2021 Marvel Trumps Hate ( @marveltrumpshate ) commission, completed on 22-count aida cloth with embroidery floss and watercolors on a 9" diameter bamboo hoop.
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