#marvel 30 day challenge

[deadbandsong]

[bad-time-storys]

Happy spooky season! 😁

I've decided that I'm going to try and do this challenge (by @dailygtwscar )

Also I've decided to be obnoxious and over the top for no reason so instead of just drawing a thing that is related to the prompt, I'm taking the prompt and turning it into a thing that scar will cosplay, why? I don't know it's just makes everything harder

Also it means that I (kinda) changed some of the prompts, it wouldn't be that noticable I promise, just wait and see

For now, enjoy scar cosplaying Daze from Marvel Comics earth 928 😊

*The graffiti in the background was made by dailygtwscar which created this prompt list

[bebe-benzenheimer]

30 day moodboard challenge (original list)

Day 13: A superheroine

Storm

[angellbarnes]

denial is best served hot

day 2 - rivals

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: it's a competition between you two, always. every mission. this one, though, turns out a little differently than you'd expected.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: very very brief mention of blood, criminals, violence, 18+, dry humping, hands stuff but over clothes, utterly filthy dirty talk, horny asf Bucky

A/N: so I'm finally posting. day 2 of my 30 day writing challenge... 12 days later. but that's besides the point. the point is, it's posted and I wayy underestimated how busy I was going to feel after posting the first part. hopefully it'll be more regular from now on, but I think I'd rather take a lil more time on these fics and have the 30 days a bit more flexible, than rush out some that I know I could do so much better on. anyway, please enjoy☺️🤍

You’re heading towards the meeting room after being called for a mission. The lift stops on Bucky’s floor and he steps in. You side eye each other as the doors close. It’s tense, but comfortable, as the atmosphere usually is between you two. 

“What do you think the mission is?” You ask him. 

“Whatever it is, just know that I’ll do it better.” You can sense his smirk while keeping your gaze forward. 

“In your dreams, Barnes.” The doors open and you pat his chest before walking off. “In your dreams.” 

He follows with a huff. 

A friendly rivalry is the way you two put it. It may not come across so friendly, but no harm has ever been done by it. Just a constant competition between you to prove who is the “better” Avenger. You even tried to get everyone to answer a questionnaire about it. To which you only got two replies: Sam who, with no hesitation, answered you, and Tony who simply wrote down his own name.

It all started during a mission, when you and Bucky had decided to take separate hallways, which conveniently had the same number of opposing agents down each, and see who could take them the fastest. The winner, so be it, was the one who reached the adjoining room first. He made it first, and you’d tried to argue your case, wiping blood from your face, and he’d come out clean as a whistle. You made it your mission, from then on, to prove his arrogant ass wrong, and smack the smug grin clean off his pretty face. He bragged about this for ages, and you desperately wanted something to boast, and humiliate him, about. 

Fury is waiting in the meeting room when you walk in. You seem to be the only ones there.

“Where’s everyone else?” You question.

“Oh, there is no one else.” Fury states. “It’s just going to be the two of you. We need to be as discreet as possible, so we want to keep numbers low.”

You and Bucky glance at each other, silent competition instantly arising.

“So, what is the mission?” Bucky enquires. 

“A guy, to put it simply.” Fury replies. “Or, an underground drug and crime lord associated with multiple different gangs, groups and countries and is very, very dangerous. Murder, torture, kidnap, fraud, theft, you name it, he’s done it. But this guy is damn hard to catch. We have a lead at the moment, the best one we’ve had, to an underground club. Criminals only, essentially. Called ‘The KillOut’.”

“Ohh, I get it. It’s like chill out, but kill out, right?” Bar the reason for it, you quite like the name.

“Wait a second, I recognise that name. I think I’ve been there. Before. As the Winter Soldier, that is.” Bucky says, a concerned frown upon his face.

“So, what, you’re sending us there? How will we even get in?” You ask. Fury taps the screen he’s holding, and projects it to the one behind. Two profiles show up.

‘Your new aliases.” He responds. “Bucky, I’m afraid you’ll be returning as the Winter Soldier. They already know you, admire you. We’ve got a new arm for you to wear that is identical to your old one. I know it’ll be hard, but you’re just gonna have to, ok?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and simply nods at Fury’s request.

“Y/L/N, you’re now going as Betty Smalls, a seemingly innocent but seductive accomplice of the Winter Soldier. You’re an angel by day but the devil by night, so be it. Make it believable, you two. Our aim is to get him alone, so we have a way of restraining him and taking him away. You have a few hours to prepare and get ready, and your outfits are waiting for you back upstairs.” And with that, Fury sends the two of you off again.

You both receive your profiles whilst in the lift, and a copy of the mission report and what needs to go down in order for it to be successful.

“Be prepared to fail, Barnes, and for me to rise from your ashes as the saviour for this team. Not even sure why you should bother coming along.” You tease.

“I’m the Winter Soldier, sweetheart. You wouldn’t even be able to attend without me.” He quips back.

“Fine. But that’s all you’re going to be good for.” 

“See you later, Betty.” Bucky says as he gets out on his floor. He turns and you simply salute him, with a ‘See ya, soldier’ as the doors close on you.

You reach your room and, sure enough, your outfit it layed out, with Nat holding a pair of strappy black heels beside.

“Pretty cute, huh?” She comments.

“Hmm.” You stare at the longline and elegant black dress, the long, white fur coat, and the heels once again and question what led you to this moment. “Hello, Betty.”

~~~

You get to the car that’s waiting for you, barely making it there with both of your ankles in one piece. Bucky is already there waiting. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look hot as hell clad in leather like that, trousers clinging to his thick thighs. You clear your throat and compose your dirty thoughts as you approach.

“Wow,” he coos as he looks you up and down. “Betty looks good.” You wonder if the complement is for you too. Either way, you can feel a small butterfly going crazy in your stomach, having his eyes rake over you like that. He almost looks hungry.

“Take a picture, Buck. It’ll last longer.” You smirk, crossing your arms, unaware that it’s just enhanced your cleavage. Bucky has to tear his eyes away, feeling a sudden tightness in his trousers. “Anyway, Betty has almost broken both of her ankles in these ridiculous shoes. They’re something I should be looking at, not wearing.” You let yourself flop down into the backseat. Bucky chuckles and shuts your door, heading to the other side and sitting down beside you. You both put in your ear pieces and the driver starts the car.

“You guys ready?” Fury’s voice rings in your ear.

“Ready.” You say simultaneously. 

~~~

You both get out of the car, Bucky offering his arm, which you take, before heading to the entrance. There are two huge – huge – men covering the doors. Alas, you keep your confident visage. You’re a criminal now, remember?

“I’m not Bucky anymore, ok?” Bucky whispers, face oh so close to yours. A shiver runs through you. “Call me soldier, tonight. I don’t care how stupid it is, that’s how I am – was – known.” You turn your face, unaware of how close you’d be to him.

“Ok.” You breathe. You carry on walking towards the front of what looks like an abandoned warehouse.

You see the men squint at Bucky, perhaps recognising him. Then look to you. It seems your outfit is enough to distract them as they look at each other and begin whistling and commenting. You roll your eyes to yourself.

“Soldat.” They both say, standing tall in front of who they think is still the Winter Soldier. Bucky simply glares at them. “And who’s this treat?” One of them says, turning to you.

“Betty Smalls, pleased to meet you.” You smile seductively through your lashes, clinging to Bucky’s arm, one hand upon his chest.

“The pleasure is all ours, sweetheart.” You cringe at them but keep up the act.

“She’s with me.” Bucky deadpans to them. They both clear their throats, stepping to the side and opening the doors for them. You blow a kiss as you walk through, turning to wink at the other. God, men are so easy to fool in a tight dress and lipgloss.

You head down some stairs, turning left at the bottom and, there it is, above another door, a neon sign with the words “the KillOut” in glowing red.

‘Here we go.” You say to Bucky. He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Betty.” He says.

“Soldier.” And with that, he opens the door and you’re exposed to an entirely different world. A world full of people, criminals, who look just like anyone else would in a club. You keep your cool as Bucky leads you to the bar. There are many eyes on the two of you, whispers between everybody and the Winter Soldier and his girl walk through. All Bucky has to do is look at someone with his intense stare and they’ll move out the way. It’s kinda hot, you think to yourself.

“An old fashioned for me and a pornstar martini for the lady.” Bucky says to the bartender. You flash him a ‘seriously?’ look and he just winks back at you. So does the bartender when he hands you your glass. 

You take your drinks and Bucky stares a couple out of their seats in a booth in the corner of the bar. You have the view of the whole place from where you are. 

“There.” Bucky says, eyeing a man who’s just walked in, sitting himself at the bar. “That’s our guy.”

“You’ve located him?” Fury asks through the comms.

“Apparently so. But that is not who I was expecting.” His flamboyant style consists of a deep burgundy/pink suit, with, no doubt real, rhinestone detailing along his collar and lapels. His black suede boots have at least a two inch heel to them. His cheekbones shimmer under the dim lighting with highlight and his red eyeliner perfectly compliments his devilish looks. As well as that, you notice the way he crosses one leg over the other and delicately stirs his drink while eyeing up the bartender.

“Well, I never.” You say, leaning back into your seat and folding your arms.

“Ok, go and order me another drink and flirt with him. Our best option is for you to seduce him so we can get him alone.” You laugh a little too loudly and have to cover your mouth at his suggestion. He looks extremely confused at your outburst. “What?”

“I think you mean you need to seduce him.” You shortly reply.

“Excuse me?” He questions, sitting more upright to face you.

“Are you kidding me? Even a blind person could see that he’s oh, so clearly, gay, Barnes.” You're smiling excessively and his mouth has dropped. You smirk and prop his jaw back up so his mouth is shut. “What are you waiting for? Go get him, tiger.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Y/L/N. I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to humiliate me, hit on this guy for your amusement. It’s not going to work. Now just go so we can get this mission over with.” You sigh at his ignorance, although that would be a good prank. Maybe another time.

“No, Buck, I’m not doing anything. Look at the guy. He’s one Madonna song away from voguing across the floor.” Your state. 

“Criminals can be over the top, you know? Just remember Zemo and his purple pimp coat.” He quips.

“Ok. What about the fact that he’s practically drooling over the bartender?” Your question is aimed rhetorically. Bucky is clearly struggling for an answer and the two of you become stuck in an intense staring contest. Neither planning on breaking first.

“Status report, guys? How’re we lookin’?” Fury asks.

“Bucky can’t accept the fact that our guy is clearly gay as all hell and is trying to get me to seduce him.” You reply, still not breaking eye contact.

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You two have gone to a bar, got yourselves a drink, sat yo’ asses down and have been arguing over whether the incredibly dangerous criminal we’re trying to capture is into fuckin’ men or women? Are you fucking kidding me?” Suddenly, Fury’s words send yours and Bucky’s eyes back to your target. “Get your heads together, agents, and will one of you, for the love of God, go and flirt with the enemy.” Fury cuts off and you’re left in silence. Bucky leans back in his seat and you raise a brow at him.

“Go. You heard the guy. Now, go ‘n’ flirt with the enemy.” He smirks. 

“Fine. I’ll go over. I’m going to have so much fun proving you wrong. My gaydar is never off.” You hold your glass up to Bucky as he scoffs, and saunter over to your target, who you know as Mr. Argot Boughley.

“Hey, honey. Saw you from the other side of the bar. Thought you looked lonely.” You wink at him and take a sip from your glass.

“Oh, I’m sorry babe, I’m not-”

“Oh, no, I know.” You cut the man off, chuckling. “I can tell a man’s man from a mile off. My friend, he’s shy, you see. But sweet as sugar once you get past the murderous tendency, am I right?” You point your glass towards Bucky, to which Argot’s eyes follow. You see him looking confused in his shadowy confinement of the corner booth. “Cute, right?”

“Mmm, as a puppy. I bet he looks good with blood on his hands.” He comments, side eyeing you with a smirk.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” You play along. Whatever gets him captured and proves Bucky wrong. “He likes a confident guy. I’ll send him your way, shall I? You two look hot together, I can already tell.”

“Tell him I’ll have a drink, and maybe something more, waiting for him.” He winks, biting his lip as he drinks Bucky’s form with his eyes. You walk smugly over to Bucky and sit yourself back in the booth. He looks concerned.

“Well? Did he fall for you or not? Should get back over there so you can get him alone.” Bucky says, to which you just giggle.

“Oh, baby boy. Sweet, naive, baby Bucky. That man over there is as straight as a roundabout. I’m not doing anything for him, but I told him I’d send you over. And he’s got a drink waiting for you.” Bucky’s eyes widen at your words, and you relish in his confusion. He has no words coming out of his open mouth.

“He’s really gay, huh?” Bucky weakly accepts his defeat and you grin in response as he makes eye contact with Argot, who holds up the drink he’s ordered.

“Time to shine, Barnes. Get your gay on. And, whatever you do, don’t fuck it up.”

He takes a breath and, shaking his head at you, stands himself up and heads over to Argot. You sit back and let the scene in front of you unfold. 

Argot begins by caressing Bucky’s thigh and continuously leaning closer to him. To begin with, you’re chuckling to yourself, thinking of the things you’ll be able to tell the team when you get back, but Bucky seems surprisingly believable when he also leans closer to Argot. Bucky’s hand roams Argot’s thigh and torso, as he grins and charms the pants off of Argot. You find yourself frowning at the two of them, unsure of the twang of jealousy that creeps through you. Their faces grow closer and closer and, before you know it, they share a short, but sweet kiss. 

Props to Bucky for the commitment, though you now find yourself wanting another drink. A strong one.

You can’t help the way your jaw drops when Argot begins leading Bucky away from the bar and through a doorway that you assumed led to the bathroom. Clearing your throat and trying to look as discrete and nonchalant as possible, you follow shortly after. It’s acting. Bucky’s acting. So, why did your jealousy feel so real?

When you turn the corner, you’re met with a corridor littered with doors, each to a different room. They must be for everyone’s criminal meetings. Or, whatever. You roll your eyes at your internal monologue and talk into your comm.

“Buck, if you can answer me, which room are you in?” No response.

You start heading slowly down the corridor, hand lightly atop the blade tucked neatly beneath your dress. Your head is lowered, trying to focus on and make out the sounds coming from each room. And there were a lot. Yelling, negotiating, probably murdering, moaning, the lot, and then there it is. A deep thud. And a muffled ‘goddamnit’ from Bucky. 

“Bingo.” You say, staring at room 22. You groan when you find that the door is locked. You’re pressed up against it to see if you can hear anything else going on, when it’s unlocked and you go stumbling into Bucky.

“Steady.” He chuckles as you straighten yourself up. He shuts the door and locks it again. “Careful, I think you’re starting to fall for me.” He smirks, hands proudly on his hips. Your throat is dry but you manage a dirty look his way.

“What did you do to him?” You ask when you turn your focus to Argot. He’s out like a light.

“A simple dose of my fist in his face. Trust me, he’ll be out for hours.” He gets to work tying Argot’s hands behind his back, ready to get him out of here and most likely shut the rest of the club down.

“Huh, good work I guess.”

“I was going to keep him around for a bit longer to see if I could get some information out of him first but, uh. He, uh… He tried to…” Bucky’s stuttering like crazy and your grinning, arms crossed, head tilted, ready for him to admit his wrong. “He tried to kiss me. Again. And more. I don’t know, it was a reflex. But, whatever, you, uh, you were right.” He mumbles the last part and turns away sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry, Barnes, I missed that last part. I was what?” You move closer to him and wait for him to say it to your face.

“You were right about Argot.” He mumbles again.

“Nope, sorry. Didn’t catch that.” Suddenly his eyes grow wide and you’re slammed against the wall. His body is firmly pressed against yours, faces mere inches apart and breathing heavily. Your heart rate has most certainly doubled.

“I said, princess, that you. Were. Right.” His eyes bore into your soul and you honestly can’t tell any of your emotions apart anymore.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” You squeak.

“But don’t get me wrong. You may have been right about Argot,” Oh no, his cocky voice is out. “but don’t think I didn’t notice the way your fist clenched around your glass when he touched me, or how you couldn’t bear the sight of him leaning in towards me, even more so when he kissed me. Bet you wished it was your hands, your lips, on me, huh?”

You’re speechless. He’s right. How can he be right? You take in a sharp breath and dare yourself to look into his piercing eyes.

“In your dreams, Barnes.” You just about make a sound. A very unconvincing one. So much so, Bucky chuckles at your weak excuse for a response. He brings his hand to caress your cheek.

“Babygirl, you can deny this all you want, but I sure as hell was picturing your lips when he kissed me. Darlin’ it’s the only way I could do it. Be honest, you’ve never thought about it? About this, about us? Tell me you haven’t, and I’ll back away right now.” He lowers himself to release his deep voice into your ear. “Right now.”

You’ve never wanted a man so bad. And you hate yourself for it.

You turn yourself to look at him, lust blanketing over both of you like a storm. A surge of emotions and desire, now taking over. “I hate you. Come here.” You grab his face and pull him to your lips. The kiss is deep, passionate, messy, and long overdue. 

Finally, the pent up tension that you’d each been denying is being released. And it couldn’t be hotter. Your hands roam each other like it’s life or death, just wanting to feel each other. Everywhere. Your lips don’t stop. Then he starts kissing, nipping and licking your neck, forcing moans from you. You pull his hips into you and his hard on presses up into you. You both groan and look into each other's eyes. He begins grinding against you and you resume the kiss, now peppered with moans in between. You tug on his hair and he releases an almost feral sound. You smirk up at him. He does the same in return as he slips his hand beneath your dress and lets his hands roam over your soaked panties.

“All this for me?” He whispers, nipping at your ear. The sensation of him rubbing the thin fabric over your clit has you arching and moaning against him. “Doll, I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without fucking you. I’ve thought about it, ya know? By myself. In bed, in the shower. But I knew my hand would never feel as good as you would wrapped around me. It’ll never be as good as having my cock inside that pretty pussy of yours. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

You’re a mess. From his words, from his actions. This man is going to ruin you. And you’re going to let him.

“Yes.” You gasp. “Bucky, fuck, thought about you too. Touched myself thinking ‘bout you. But this is so much better.” You palm his erection over his trousers and he groans deeply into your neck.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes.

“By the way, I’m still gonna tell everyone about how I was right about Argot.”

“I swear, I’m-”

“Agents? It’s been a while. What the hell is going on over there and please, for the sake of my sanity, tell me that motherfucker is caught now.” Nick’s voice yells at both of you, clearly unaware of anything. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and Bucky does the same. He brings his hand to his ear.

“Everything’s fine. We’ve got the guy. He’s down and ready to be brought back. You can send the other agents in to shut this place down.” Bucky replies. Cool, calm and collected. Like nothing else was going on.

“Finally. What in the hell took you so long?” Fury bites back.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Things got a little… harder than we expected.” You roll your hips against Bucky and he clenches his jaw not to make a sound.

“Fine. Well, at least it’s done. Good work. You can head back to the compound now.”

You’re left in a silence, eyes devouring each other. Hungry for each other

Bucky leans back down to you, a growling undertone to his words “Guess we’ve gotta finish what we started back at the compound. I can’t wait to be inside you, doll.”

“Excuse me?” Fury’s voice is back and both your eyes widen. 

“Shit.”

[thegracelessfaceless]

Who's that dog over there? The one with love in her eyes?

@nkp1981

[chteretree]

30 Queer Characters for Each Day of Pride Month!

Yup Tomorrow’s gonna be a triple feature!

Day 27: Gwen Pool! (Canon Aroace!)

GwenPool is actually the superhero that really got me into comics after my spider man phase!

Full Speedpaint on YouTube!

[zeddpool]

30 Days of Shipping: Day 2

🕷️GweMJ🎸

[romancemedia]

☆MOVIE CHALLENGE - Day 30☆

Next Avengers: Heroes of Tomorrow (2008)

[afteriwake]

Shang-Chi/Katy, 12, pearl gray

And here's another fic in the "Shifting Relationships" series! The title came from a 30 Day Writing Challenge prompt and the prompt for the number was “'You always look beautiful.'”

Like Waves In The Ocean - Shang-Chi sees Katy in a different light when she's dressed up for a wedding they're both in.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

“Don’t look!”

“I’m not looking!”

“I mean it, Shang-Chi. You look and I’ll kick your ass into next week.”

He laughed as he covered his eyes. “I promise. Hurry up or we’re going to be late to the wedding.”

“I just need to get the pearl necklace on. The damn latch isn’t catching.”

“If you let me look I can help.”

There was a long pause from Katy’s bedroom, followed by a huff. “Fine. But you laugh at me in this dress and I’ll also kick your ass into next week.”

Shang-Chi uncovered his eyes and went into her room. Her back was too him but he caught her reflection in the full length mirror and stopped. That was not his Katy. She’s stunning, he thought to himself, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You’re...gorgeous.” he managed to get out. Katy was in a long pearl gray dress with a discrete slit up the right side to just above the knee, and it had an empire waist that showed her cleavage a bit more than he was used to. The pearls she was holding around her neck were accentuated with pearls at the bottom of the knot her hair was in. She wasn’t wearing any heavy make-up, and he assumed that would be done at the wedding venue.

“Thank for the lie, now help?”

“I’m not lying,” he said, snapping out of his near trance and moving towards her. “Katy...you didn’t even look this way at our prom.”

“Well of course I didn’t. I wore a neon yellow tux.” He took the pearls from her and opened up the latch, closing it on the hole at the other end of the necklace. He let his hands linger on her shoulders and he felt a shiver run through her.

“Do you have a wrap or something?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, and he could see she was blushing slightly. She moved away from him and got a pearl gray wrap from the back of her chair. She put it on her shoulders and did a little twirl. “You really think I look good?”

“Any number of guys are going to be happy to dance with you at the reception,” he said.

“What about you?”

He blinked. Oh, he’d love to dance with her. He found himself wanting to do more than just dance with her. Like kiss her. He wanted to kiss her right now, but she beat him to the punch, brushing er lips across his. She pulled back for a moment, and looked up at him before her pulled her in and gave her a proper kiss. The wrap fell from her shoulders as she reached up to frame his face, continuing the kiss.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. “The wedding.”

“What?”

“We’re going to be late for the wedding if we don’t go soon.” He reached up and brushed his fingers agaisnt her cheek. “But all I want to do is stay here and kiss you. You look stunning today, Katy, but really, you always look beautiful. I was just...blind.”

She leaned in and kissed him again. “Hold that thought for after we’ve had some drinks and some more kisses like that.”

“So this is a good thing?” he asked.

“I think it’s a good thing. I think it’s a great thing. But Michelle and Yung will kill us if we don’t get there in time to get Soo’s and my makeup done for the wedding, and we still need to pick up Soo and John.” She gave him a soft smile. “But this is definitely a good thing.”

“Okay,” he said, grinning back. “Good.”

“Good.” She picked the wrap off the floor. “Put the pedal to the metal, Big Guy.” Shang-Chi offered her his arm and she took it, and they left the apartment with him feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.

[maxwellendowed]

Day 19: Which Character (from books, comics, etc. Or a possible remake) would you love to see Tom play?

hmmm I think I'll take what my mama @pixlerelish does.

Short answer:

in an alternative reality it probably happened so why not? It'd be nice to see and this obsession would have totally started waaaaaaay back in the age old day of 2008. That's my answer. Fight me.

@lovesickmermaid love 💜

@pixlerelish love 💚

[missmarvelobsession]

Day 1 of Whumpril is up!

this is no joke

Prompts: Red Alert | Distress Call | Panic Attack

Todays Characters: Steve, Wanda, Vision, Natasha, Sam

Chapter Description: Set after Avengers Age of Ultron, the new team of Avengers goes out of their first mission together!

@whumpril 🫡 Thanks for organizing this event!

[deadbandsong]

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Okay, who gave you the right, to write this frickin adorable fic, and make me so happy at the warmth and comfort of it all?!😍

your heart a pancake

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: when you're drunk and stranded at a bar and your boss calls you, he's not happy—and he ends up giving you a ride home on his motorcycle.

warnings: fluff, flirting, drunk!reader, an almost-kiss

word count: 2.8k

a/n: day 7 of my 30 day writing trope challenge is drunken confession. i've had the idea for this one for a couple days—i drew inspiration from a scene in the book in a jam by kate canterbary, which i read a couple months ago and loved! so please enjoy some sweet, fluffy flirting 😁

-

Oh no. You were drunk, in a bar, and your boss was calling you. 

Well, Steve Rogers wasn’t technically your boss. He was your team leader, but that wasn’t an easy relationship for your non-SHIELD friends and family to understand. So you just referred to Steve as your boss. 

But why was he calling you?

For a moment, you considered not answering. And, in fact, while you were still debating whether it was completely necessary to answer your team leader’s call so late at night—it was after 10pm!—the ringing stopped. You breathed a sigh of relief, then went back to searching the bar for the rest of your SHIELD team, who you’d joined for drinks.

After you’d made a complete lap of the place and determined they weren’t all in the bathroom—the bathrooms were tiny and couldn’t fit five men, especially since Rumlow was built like a brick house—you had to face the facts: They’d ditched you. Or they’d forgotten you. You couldn’t decide which option was worse.

You slunk over to the bar and plopped down in a stool, trying to pull up a rideshare app and make your way home to nurse your bruised ego. The bartender plopped a glass of water down in front of you, giving you a sympathetic smile, before she moved away to help some other patrons.

You were just about to plug in your address and call a car when STEVE ROGERS appeared on the screen. Fumbling your phone in surprise that he called you again, you accidentally hit accept. For a stunned second, you wondered if you could hang up before he noticed, but thought better of it. Wincing and taking a sip of water, you held the phone up to your ear. “Hello?” you answered, an inconvenient hiccup bubbling up your throat.

Steve paused on the other end of the line like he wasn’t sure he’d dialed the right number, and when he spoke it wasn’t his normal friendly commanding voice—his tone was darker, like he was angry. “Agent, are you drunk?”

“Yes,” you said, not even bothering to consider lying. Your brain busy anyway, it was focused on trying not to hiccup again. You gulped down water to quell the stupid sounds.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice still menacingly low. 

You could barely hear him over the din of the crowd, but something about the deep richness of Steve’s voice curled up in your chest and settled there. You shook your head as if to clear it of the silly thought and refocused on your team leader’s words.

He was still speaking, asking, “What’s the name of the bar?”

“Oh, um,” you trailed off. Rumlow had given you a ride from SHIELD HQ, and you’d just followed along like the new recruit you were, trying so hard to fit in with your team. Who had all ended up leaving you there. In a bar you didn’t even know the name of. Your shoulders sagged as you curled in on yourself. “I don’t know,” you admitted in a hushed whisper. “I came out for drinks with the team, but I don’t know where they are, I think they left.”

Another pause sounded down the line. And then you knew you were drunk because you could’ve sworn you heard Steve curse. Steve Rogers never cursed. It was something the team razzed him about all the time. But you swore you heard it. Then Steve was talking again and you had to push your shock aside to listen.

“Are you OK, are you safe?” he demanded to know. 

For the first time since realizing you’d been stranded in the bar, you looked around. While it wasn’t the nicest establishment, you didn’t feel particularly unsafe. And the bartender was nice enough that you figured she’d step in if someone started bothering you. So you told Steve you were OK. “I was just about to get a car home,” you said in conclusion.

“Just stay right there,” Steve said, his words slightly skewed like he was talking through gritted teeth. “I’m coming to get you.”

“You really don’t have to,” you tried to say, but he cut you off.

“I’m coming to get you,” he bit out before hanging up.

You thought that was a little rude, hanging up without saying goodbye, but you shrugged it off and turned back to your water. You figured if Steve wasn’t there by the time you finished it, you were well within your rights to get a car instead of waiting for him.

It wasn’t too much later, and you still had a quarter of your water left, when Steve stomped into the bar. Steve Rogers wasn’t typically the type to stomp—he knew how to be light on his feet despite being an over-six-foot super-soldier—and something in your chest seized up when you realized you were in trouble. You watched him approach with wary eyes.

He came to a stop beside you, reaching for your glass and sniffing it before setting it back down. “Water?” he asked for confirmation. You nodded obediently. “You’ve got more sense than Rumlow, Rollins and the rest of them put together,” he said offhandedly, but the compliment went straight to your gut, doing something funny to your insides.

Oh no. Oh no. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be drunk around your boss—especially when you had a stupid crush on your boss.

“I really would’ve been okay getting a car,” you said in a small voice, trying to look as not-drunk as possible.

Instead of responding, Steve pushed the glass toward you. “Finish your water and we’ll go,” he said, and though his words were ostensibly an order, his voice contained only a fraction of its normal commanding steel. He sounded soft, almost affectionate.

Before that thought could solidify in your mind, you shook your head again to clear it and grabbed the water, downing the rest in one go. When you glanced up at Steve, he still had anger and concern written all over his face, but there was something like amusement deep in his blue eyes. You could get lost in those eyes if given half a chance.

So you didn’t give yourself a chance. You grabbed your things and stood up, wobbling only a little, shooting Steve a proud smile when you managed to keep your feet under you. The super-soldier just shook his head a little, placed a hand on the small of your back and led you out of the bar.

“How’d you find me, anyway?” you asked as you stepped carefully around tables and other bar patrons, leaning into Steve’s strong, steady side when needed—which was a lot. “I never told you the name of the bar.”

“I called Rumlow and got it out of him,” Steve muttered, tugging you along, his hand replaced with his full arm when he realized you needed a little more help walking than he’d anticipated. “Also told him if he ever pulls this shit again, I’ll personally make sure he never sets foot in the field again.”

You gasped exaggeratedly. “Steve! You said a bad word!” you cried, only then remembering he’d said one on the phone, too. “You said lots of bad words,” you mumbled, something like confusion in your voice. 

Steve just chuckled and kept leading you along, stepping outside into the warm night. When he came to a stop on the sidewalk, you realized he hadn’t driven a car to get you. No, he’d brought his motorcycle. Your heart lurched with fear, flashing back to all the times your mom had warned you to never get on a motorcycle. Looking down at yourself, wearing a simple floral dress that hit you just above the knee, you knew you were dressed nowhere near appropriately for riding a motorcycle. 

“What’s the problem, agent?” Steve asked from beside his monstrosity of a vehicle.

Apparently alcohol loosened your tongue, because you told him the truth even though it was a little humiliating. “My mom said she’d kill me if I ever got on a motorcycle,” you whispered. You winced at yourself, knowing it made you sound young and silly to be afraid of your mom.

But Steve grinned. “Your mom sounds like a smart woman,” he said, stepping up in front of you and placing a helmet on your head, fastening the strap beneath your chin. “But I promise you’re safe with me,” he went on, adjusting the strap to make sure the helmet fit snugly.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you internally told your organs to calm the hell down. He was talking about his motorcycle, nothing more. Even though you wished he meant more.

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. When Steve stepped away to hike a leg over the motorcycle and sit in its seat, you could breathe easier. “But if I end up as a pancake, you get to tell my mom,” you said as lightly as you could manage even though your heart was pounding both from fear and excitement at getting to ride Steve’s motorcycle.

Steve grinned again and patted the seat behind him. “Sure thing, but I’m not planning on letting you turn into a pancake anytime soon,” he said. 

You believed him. So you secured the strap of your crossbody bag over your shoulder and bunched your dress between your thighs before throwing a leg over the seat behind Steve. You shifted around until you were sure you weren’t going to flash anyone and settled into the seat, placing your hands tentatively on his sides over the brown leather jacket he wore.

He turned his head to look back at you, a smile curving his lips that you couldn’t quite interpret. Then he grabbed your hands and pulled your arms around his front, tugging you closer on the seat until your chest was flush against his back. “Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he threw over his shoulder before starting the engine and easing away from the curb.

Once the motorcycle began to move, you clung to Steve, your thighs hugging his tightly and your fingers digging into the hard abs you could feel beneath his t-shirt. Steve didn’t go too fast, but it was exhilarating all the same, the warm summer evening wind caressing your skin. When Steve came to a stop at a light, you were trembling with excitement, but then he turned to ask if you were cold, and you realized you were. He quickly shed his jacket and stood so he could wrap it around your shoulders. You smiled up at him as you pushed your arms through the sleeves.

Steve’s blue eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t identify as he stared down at you, happy and smiling and wearing his jacket. It looked a little bit like desire and possessiveness, but that couldn’t be right so you stopped trying to guess. 

It wasn’t until the light changed and the cars behind you began honking that he broke away, sitting back down and revving the motorcycle to take off again.

You pressed close to his back, feeling the warmth of him through his t-shirt. You’d gotten used to riding on the motorcycle, and you felt safe with Steve, assured in the knowledge he wasn’t going to let you get hurt. So you let yourself bask in the feel of his hard body against yours, his thick thighs strong between your legs and his broad back sturdy against your chest. All the way to your apartment, you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face, too intoxicated from the feel of the wind on your cheeks and Steve’s closeness.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually Steve pulled up in front of your building. It was a nice little renovated townhouse that you shared with a couple roommates. You lingered for a moment, trying to commit to memory the feel of being wrapped around Steve, and he seemed happy enough to let you. Finally, you pulled away and hopped off the motorcycle, but when you moved to undo your helmet, Steve followed you, unsnapping the clasp for you. 

You grinned up at him. “You didn’t turn me into a pancake,” you said, and blamed your still drunk brain on thinking that was a completely normal thing to say after your team leader gave you a ride home from a bar on his motorcycle.

Steve chuckled, looking at you like he thought you were cute. “I told you, sweetheart, you’re always safe with me,” he murmured, brushing some of your windswept hair back over your shoulder. He was staring at you, something warm and deep swirling in those blue eyes of his, and you could feel fluttering somewhere in the vicinity of your stomach and chest. Actually it was just about everywhere in your body. Like you were a bottle of seltzer filled to the brim with bubbles, about ready to explode.

“No I’m not,” you whispered the confession, unable to bear it if he laughed at you or didn’t take it seriously. “Not when you look at me like that.”

“How’m I looking at you, sweetheart?” Steve asked, his breath ghosting over your cheek. Only then did you realize how close he’d gotten, stepping into your space and towering above you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his chest and your body swayed toward him, wanting to bask in that warmth. 

You were at a loss for words. You didn’t know how to explain the way Steve was looking at you, only the way it made you feel. He made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, and at the same time, he stirred up something wild inside you that made you want to jump into his arms. But you couldn’t say all that—you couldn’t tell your boss the way he looked at you made you want to fall in love with him, and then fall into bed with him. Though not necessarily in that order.

“Steve,” you said instead, his name a whispered plea, trying to tell him with that single word you couldn’t bear it if he hurt you. Being pancaked may have been unlikely, but getting your heart broken wasn’t. And you needed him to know he had to be careful with all of you.

The corners of his mouth kicked up and he ducked his head closer. You felt the ghost of him on your lips before his mouth pressed to your cheek, dropping a lingering peck to your soft skin. He paused a moment, nuzzling you lightly like he couldn’t bear to pull away just yet. 

It was a promise, a reassurance, you felt it deep in your bones. But then he was straightening and whatever fuzziness you’d felt in your chest had spread to your head because you felt dizzy from how close you’d come to kissing Steve.

When you gathered the courage to look up at him, he wore an affectionate smile. “You need to drink some more water, and sleep,” Steve murmured, cupping your chin in one hand, his thumb swiping over your lower lip while he stared at your mouth. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and we can talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in response, fascinated by the soft way he was looking at you. You could get used to Steve Rogers looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“And no more going out to strange bars with Rumlow and Rollins, got it?” Steve asked, squeezing your chin a little to get your attention. “I want to know you’re safe.” His blue eyes were dark, some of that anger and concern resurfacing.

Something finally occurred to you. “Were you worried about me, captain?” you asked, almost too excited by the idea to get the words out.

“Of course, I was,” he said instantly, like he didn’t have any interest in hiding how much you meant to him. Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead. Another promise. “Go inside, get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G’night Steve,” you said shyly, before turning and making your way to your front door. Just before you went inside, you turned back to the street and found him sitting on his bike, watching you. It was only then that you realized you still wore his jacket, but the way he looked at you, it was like he enjoyed seeing you in his clothes.

Steve waved and called goodnight, urging you to go inside. But it wasn’t until you were safely inside your apartment, the lights on and the door safely locked behind you, that he got on his motorcycle and drove away.

Even though you were still drunk, you knew the warmth and happiness curling up in your chest had nothing to do with the alcohol you’d consumed. It had everything to do with the blond super-soldier who made you feel more safe and cherished in less than an hour than anyone else had in years. You didn’t know where things would go from there, but you decided you trusted Steve to keep you safe—and that included your heart. 

Steve Rogers wouldn’t make you or your heart a pancake.

⫸⫸30 Day Writing Trope Challenge Masterlist⫷⫷

[bebe-benzenheimer]

30 day moodboard challenge (original list)

Day 12: A superhero

Spider-Man

[angellbarnes]

sparks flying

day 1 - firefighter AU

pairing: firefighter!Bucky x reader

summary: a real life firefighter to crush on? say less. with you’re clumsiness you’ll definitely be needing him around a lot more

word count: 1.3k

warnings: just idiots with crushes fluff, (small) fires

A/N: so this is officially day 1 of my 30 day writing challenge! I’ve been gone from writing for wayyy too long. I’ve had a lot going on in life and in my head tbh but now I’m ready to saddle up again and hopefully this will be a good n fun way to bring back my writing! I think this is a cute one to start the challenge with. please like, comment and reblog, it means so so much🤍

•••

A couple of weeks ago…

“Wanda, stop!” you yell. “You know how ticklish I am!” You’re fighting against her as she pins you down. Nat is cackling beside you, laughing at your struggling.

“Say it! Admit you like him!” She cries.

“No! I’ll never!” You cry back.

A relaxed girls night seemed like a good idea before truth or dare was involved, and it led to both Nat and Wanda forcing you to admit your schoolgirl crush on Bucky, a firefighter in your neighbourhood.

“Then I won’t stop.” You’re fighting for breath at this point, before you kick your leg perfectly, or unfortunately, to knock over a candle on the side. It falls to the carpet and everyone’s eyes widen.

“Shit!” You exclaim. You grab a pillow and hit it over the flames repeatedly. You exhale heavily when it’s out. You turn and see Wanda and Nat smirking as Nat is holding her phone to her ear. “Wha- Nat, no!” You say sternly, you can see her plan smug on her face. She holds her finger up at you as she starts speaking.

“Hey, Steve, we just had a small fire over here, maybe you should come over to make sure it’s been put out properly… Yeah, just a candle, nothing major… Ok, thanks babe. Oh, and you should probably bring Bucky too, if he’s around. Cool, see you soon.” She hangs up.

“Seriously?” You deadpan.

When they arrive, you’re sitting on the sofa with Wanda and Nat opens the door. Of course, behind Steve, Bucky comes striding in too. Wanda wiggles her eyebrows at you, poorly hiding her grin. You simply roll your eyes.

“What’ve we got here then?” Steve remarks, blankly staring and, frankly being unimpressed, at the charred patch of carpet beneath you.

“I just knocked over a candle. It is absolutely no big deal and it’s clearly out.” You reply, tight lipped. Avoiding eye contact with the looming brunet beside him, as if you’d drop dead if you were to. “What would we do without you two though?” You sarcastically add.

“What even happened?” Bucky asks, and you finally look at him, in the eyes, as you silently die inside while searching for a reason other than the truth.

“Wanda pushed me into it, and then it fell on the carpet.” Bucky raises a suspicious brow at your answer.

“Ok,” Steve says. “Just maybe try to keep candles upright from now on. We should go, Buck, and get to that bar before it’s too busy.”

“You guys are going out? We’ll come with!” Nat jumps up and pulls Wanda from the sofa, stretching her hands out to you next.

“I would, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. A 6am start is not what I want on less than 7 hours of sleep.” You reply, honestly this time.

“Ugh, fine.” Nat whines. Everyone starts to head out as you hold the door. You say bye to everyone and wish them a good night as Bucky hangs back.

“Shame you can’t come tonight, maybe next time?” He leans in the doorway and you think your heart actually skips a beat.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You can’t help but smile as he flashes a cheeky grin. He begins walking out and you admire his frame. It’s a shame he can’t put out the fire roaring inside of you right now.

“Have a fun shift tomorrow!” He calls out.

“Oh, I will.” You shut the door and roll your eyes and the feelings he gives you.

Now…

“Ugh, stupid fucking lights!” You growl and the flickering bulb above you, which eventually goes out altogether. You know it’s not the lightbulb because you’ve only just changed it. The same thing happens in your bedroom and the kitchen. Determined, you set out to find the light panel for your flat, which is somewhere in the building. You finally find it and open it up. You see your flat number and, beneath it, some switches and screws and wires you’ve never encountered before.

“Fuck it.” You take out your screwdriver and just head into this unknown world. You try a few switches and screws when a couple of sparks fly. You jump back with a slight shriek. Your eyes widen and your hand covers your mouth as the sparks turn into a small flame.

“Nooo. no, no, no, no, no, shit, shit, shit.”

The flame begins to grow and you look around, with no luck, for some sort of fire extinguisher. The nearest thing is a fire alarm. Brilliant. 10 in the evening and now the whole building is going to hate you.

“For fucks sake.” You press the alarm and run away from the scene of the crime before people can see you near it.

Everyone is stood outside, cold and annoyed, when the engines arrive. With everyone in gear it’s hard to tell who’s going in. You’re all waiting for a short while before they tell everyone it’s taken care of and you can start heading back in. The firefighters begin taking off their helmets and masks. You notice Steve and – shit – Bucky. You don’t have time to get away before he spots you too. He heads over.

“Hey. I’m starting to get used to this building now.” He comments. You chuckle lightly. “I’m worried you’re heading towards becoming an arsonist.” Your eyes go wide.

“How did you know it was me?” You whisper-yell. His eyes widen in response, brows furrowing.

“We didn’t. I was just making a joke, but now I’m actually concerned about you.” He folds his arms and laughs as you slap your hand to your face in stupidity.

“Oh. Shit. Uhh, there’s no getting out of this, is there? Oh god, are you meant to arrest me or something? Ok, here’s the plan: I never said or did anything. Sound good?” You reason, realising you’re just continuing your idiocy. He just smiles in response before nodding his head toward the building.

“Should I walk you up? Just to make sure you don’t start any more fires.” He quips and you scoff, rolling your eyes and playfully elbowing him.

“Fine. Just to make sure.”

“You do realise I’m going to be telling Steve about this?” Bucky says when you reach your door. “And then he’ll tell Nat, who will then tell Wanda.” He smirks, leaning against the doorway again after you step inside. God, you love a man in uniform. Although, you’d like him more out of it–

“Oh, I’m prepared for that.” You look back into your apartment, and at that patch of carpet from last time, and why it happened. “Did you want to come in?”

“Uhh…” He begins. You mentally scold yourself. He clearly doesn’t want to. But then again, he’s still in uniform.

“Oh, shit, are you still on duty? Or you don’t want to. Either way, it’s fine. Sorry for asking.” You ramble.

“No, no, that’s not it. I’m actually technically finished now. I was just going to ask if you wanted to go to that bar now? As long as you don’t have another early shift tomorrow, that is.” You light up inside at his question, and can’t help the grin that spreads across your lips.

“Yes! Yeah, that sounds nice, I mean.” You shyly look at the floor and notice he steps forwards. He lifts your chin with his finger so you’re looking into his eyes.

“Uh, there’s actually something else I wanted to ask you…” He begins, and you both instinctively begin to lean into one another.

“Yeah?” You reply softly. The corner of his mouth lifts.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers into your lips and your breath hitches.

“Yes.” You pull him into you with his jacket and his lips press against yours. Suddenly, another fire is igniting. But a much, much better kind. The kiss is deep and long-awaited, both of you trying to get closer, while already being flush against one other. Finally you part, chuckling and biting your lip.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Thank god for my lack of my electrician knowledge, huh?”

[thegracelessfaceless]

Update on 30 Day Drawing challenge... I'm taking a few of these 30 days to give Peggy (Dogpool) the love she deserves 💖

She's just so ugly she's beautiful and I'm paying VERY close attention to wrinkles

WIP to prove I'm not being lazy

PS: I've never drawn a dog before. Only people. So I'm learning on the fly

Edit: I think I'll be posting this tomorrow or the next day. I was intimidated by the suit but it's coming along. Now it's just time to focus on wrinkles and tiny little hairs on that adorable face