offbeatwriting

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Imagine walking out, dressed to kill, for your date with dean...

Dean, “Don’t wait up!”

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Other bloggers: man I need to clean out my askbox

Me:

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Hello! I love your story 'femme glissante' can i be tagged there? 😘

Absolutely, my darling!

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Femme Glissante : CHAPTER 2

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: violence and mild language.

Words: A lot. I’m a wordy and descriptive writer. Sorry, not sorry

Chapter 2

As you got your bearings, you quickly surveyed your surroundings. You stood on the top balcony of the compound and could hear muffled voices of French and Russian men. You notice that this was an old work house with lots of rusty, heavy machines and buttons attached to the wall behind you. You hastily made your way over to the other end of the balcony, looking over to see if you could see the package. In the center of the lower floor was a large table which was most likely used for assembly back when this old compound was up and running, but now it was almost comical the sight you saw before you. On one end of the table stood the Frenchmen: snooty in nature, they wore puffy coats which came down to their knees. Clearly not knowing how cold it was actually going to be that day. They held a very small briefcase which was handcuffed to one of the French henchmen. This was going to be tough. Somehow, you needed to get close enough to the package to take what was inside without alerting the goons. On the other end of the table were the Russians: menacingly they stood, arms crossed in front of their bodies and feet shoulder width apart, a classic power stance. Dressed in full length fur coats, hats which had a strange octopus insignia, and gloves; this was not their first time bracing the cold weather of Moscow.

You crouched and waited for your opportunity. Some mild pleasantries were exchanged by the two gentlemen who you assumed were the masterminds behind this whole meeting. Something along the lines of "I'm glad we could finally meet", and, "enough of the small talk and let's get down to business." You weren't entirely sure because your Russian was quite rusty, but the French you could make out perfectly and that's how you knew what you were looking for.

The French gentleman snapped which, as if they had rehearsed, led to the gentleman with the briefcase putting it down in the middle of the table and allowing another Frenchman to unlock the cuffs with the keys. Once unlocked, it was opened to reveal a green chip. As if pleased, the Russian man waved for his colleague to bring over what appeared to be a pouch from his pocket and dumping out the contents. Out spilled the most beautiful of diamonds you had ever seen. "Bingo!" You thought to yourself, "now just time for a diversion." While they were inspecting each other's goods for authenticity you started Looking around the room and spotted the button on the wall that you noticed earlier. "Even if nothing turned on, it would make enough noise to alert the henchmen goons," so with unbelievable accuracy you hurled one of your throwing daggers directly at the button across the room. It stuck beautifully in its intended target, unfortunately no huge machine sprang to life, but it caused a loud enough thud to have the men below draw their weapons and make their way to the opposite side of the room from you.

Holding onto the railing, you hurled yourself over the edge and swung forward. You allowed yourself to dangle long enough to have each of the men become fully preoccupied with what you now registered as grunts coming from the far corridor. You as silently as possible, dropped to the floor below. It was only about 8 feet from your toes so you barely made any noise when you landed. You wondered what the men were doing, to be honest. Looking for intruders shouldn't be that hostile sounding. Taking your eyes off the chip, you looked up in time to see one of the Frenchmen hurled across the hallway just outside the corridor. Shocked, you froze in your place. You were only 20 paces behind the two men who you assumed were the masterminds of the meeting, being as silent as your heart beat would allow and not darling to move. Then a shot rang out, it made you jump and almost making you yip with fear. What sounded like bones cracking against metal, you saw another henchman goon, a Russian this time, thrust against the metal door frame with a clang. A man appeared, long dark hair, blue piercing eyes and one metal arm. That must have been the bones against metal you heard earlier. He looked at you in confusion and that tipped the head Frenchman and Russian off.

"Damnit!" you said aloud as they turned to face you.

Making a dash for the chip, you ducked a fist to the head from the Frenchman. You grabbed the chip and a handful of the gems and shoved them into your belt on your suit. You knew the diamonds weren't a part of the deal, but you figured they were a glorious perk of the mission. The man with the metal arm easily subdued the Russian and was making a beeline towards you. Suddenly, the Frenchman you dodged earlier grabbed you by the arm and swung you away from the goods ramming you right into a metal beam nearby. You winced from the crack against your ribs. Getting up and leaning on the steel beam, you grabbed 2 more daggers from your belt and hurled one at the Frenchman, slicing his neck and severing the Carotid artery. Shock and bewilderment over took the metal armed giant’s face, but only for a second until his fist came up to punch you in the face. Thankfully, you have quick reflexes and dodged just in time for his hand to hit and DENT the steel beam you had been leaning against. Eyes wide, you made your way to the rusty ladder, but you were too close to him. He grabbed your ankle and dragged you down the ladder. You turned, still holding onto the last rung of the ladder, and kicked your hardest to his face, you almost felt bad because he was relatively good looking. It stunned him enough to allow you to gain space between you and your assailant and throw the second dagger with deadly precision at his face. Your eyes couldn't believe what they saw. With the upmost skill, he clapped his hands together right in front of his face, stopping your blade mere centimeters from the center of his brow which made you furious. Taking out two more blades, you hurled them both simultaneously at the giant as he brought his metal arm up to protect himself. You took that as your opportunity to escape and do what you were best known for. You could hear the ping of your blades against the cool metal of his arm as you bolted. You ran as hard and as fast as you could, out the corridor and down the hall past the henchmen goons which laid sprawled across the hallway and out the door to the frozen tundra. You could hear the metal man's feet pounding behind you in pursuit. With a push of a button on your suit, you were completely camouflaged. The reflection of your surrounding tundra making you virtually invisible. As you no longer heard the pursuit footsteps behind you, you stopped for a rest. You had made it. You continued with your exit strategy out of the country and found an old farmer truck and hotwired it, but not before leaving a small envelope with a couple of the stolen diamonds in its place. You then began the long journey back home, to New York City, to meet with your buyer and provide the chip.

Lowering his arm, he saw your feet as you headed out the corridor. Taking off after you, heart racing, he saw you burst through the door of the compound. A mere 5 seconds later, he did the same and was shocked... you were GONE! He stopped to listen for footsteps, nothing. "How could someone just vanish? Was it some inhuman thing?" He thought.

Turning his ear COMM back on he grumbled, "Sam, bring the jet around. I lost it."

"Damnit, Bucky! What the hell happened?"

"I'll tell you when I get on board."

Stepping onto the quinjet, Sam was standing there, arms crossed and scowling. "Report, now." He demanded.

Plopping hard into the seat, he put his head into his flesh hand, "There was a third party at play."

"What?!"

"Shocked me, too."

"Who was it?"

"Dunno. Short, blonde dame. No insignias anywhere and wearing a strange suit" He said with distain in his voice.

"Hold up! You mean to tell me that the infamous Winter Solder got one upped by an unknown chick?" Cackling his way back to the pilot's seat. Bucky's eyes would have burned a hole in him if they could.

"Is she the one who left those?"

Bucky lifted his head in confusion and looked down to his metal arm. Both daggers were deeply imbedded. One in his forearm and another just above his elbow. Thinking back to the fight and realizing that if he hadn't brought his arm up to protect himself, those daggers would have plummeted directly into his eye sockets. Feeling the heat in his body build, he angrily pulled the daggers out and threw them on the medical exam table in front of him. How could someone have bested him in a simple smash and grab mission? He studied the daggers, no insignia, no form of identification of who they belonged to, except one. No ordinary dagger would even come close to penetrating his metal arm. He'd have Bruce run tests on them to be sure but he was almost positive that these blades were made from the same material that his arm was made of: Vibranium. And that was not easy to find.

"Cap, is so gonna give you double training sessions for this", Sam laughed, snapping Bucky from his thoughts.

"Shut up and fly the damn plane!"

Tag List: (Max 20)

@chocolatemonkeyrainbows @frostbyte-horan @crazy4thewinbros @i-love-superhero @nerdboylover @zombiewerewolfqueen @bexboo616 @yo-yo-bro-bro @leah2901 @part-time-patronus @this-is-mycrisis @weirdgirl-weirdthoughts @likes-to-smell-books @this-is-mycrisis

[offbeatwriting]

hi! i just read the first chapter for Femme Glissante and was hoping i could get tagged for it? i really like it and i think it’s just gonna get better and better!

Hey thanks! Absolutely!! I think you’re in for lots of emotion! ☺️

[offbeatwriting]

Femme Glissante: Chapter 1

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: violence and mild language.

Words: A lot. I’m a wordy and descriptive writer. Sorry, not sorry

Description: You are a “freelance acquisitions specialist,” basically a thief for hire and a master of misdirection and disguise. But what happens when a metal armed man crosses your path during a job? Can you escape? Will you ever see him again?

CHAPTER 1

You stood outside the old compound double checking your weapons. "12 throwing daggers, check. One Ruger LC9 semiautomatic pistol, check" you went over in your mind quickly. You never brought more weapons than you thought were necessary. Then reviewed your escape route for the what seemed like the 33rd time. You couldn't help but think how blisteringly cold it was for September in Moscow.

You are a "freelance acquisitions specialist," which in laments terms means you're a thief for hire, but a damn good one at that. You, over the years, have been given the name Femme Glissante, when loosely translated means "slippery female" in French. You haven't picked that title, but loved it none-the-less. It suited your demeanor: skittish, elusive, and a master of misdirection and disguise. You weren't much for hand to hand combat, in fact, you just knew the basics to get by. You'd rather get in, get out, and leave the target bewildered in their losses, but the weapons you sported were just extra precautions. You may not have been the best at up close physical combat, but your specialty was knife throwing and getaway extractions. You could throw one of your beloved daggers from 250 feet away and hit a nut out of a moving squirrels mouth, and then hit the squirrel with a second. It was enough to give the infamous Hawkeye a run for his money. Your escape routes were also a thing of beauty. In a perfect scenario, you could change appearances, hot wire a car, and be out of the target point within 60 seconds. It could easily rival an inhuman's shape-shifting ability.

When you took this job, you were contacted via your typical way: a newspaper ad. Seems very simple, but that's why you liked it. If someone required your services, they would put a coded message in one of the ads. Marked with an "accidental" typo "x" at the end of the fine print. With this specific job, you were instructed to meet the client at a nearby cafe and instructed to order a Venti Quadruple shot drip coffee with extra coconut milk. Just thinking about the drink made you shudder. "How anyone could have that strong of a coffee with COCONUT milk is beyond me," you thought. You were more of a simple tea drinker with honey and maybe lemon. A tall man, pale in complexion and soft facial features walked up to your table and asked you to follow him to the back of the cafe between two double doors. You didn't fear seeing that the double doors had no lock and were two-way doors, you could easily make an escape if necessary. You met with your buyer. He was a very tall and dark-skinned man. He had a mysterious aura about him and not just because he wore an eyepatch. You had never met this man before and he seemed friendly enough. You thought better of it, knowing that in your line of work, people are never as they seem. As you were making your way out the cafe, it never crossed your mind that this job would be the one to change your life forever.

That meeting led you here, in Moscow, freezing your butt off in your modified grey morph suit. On your left wrist were a series of buttons which allowed your suit to change and adapt to its surroundings making you appear invisible. Something of your own creation that you were quite proud of. At the moment, you were done up extra pale in complexion, (if truth being told wasn't far from your normal skin tone), with a short, bob, blonde wig, and dark blue contacts as part of keeping your real identity a secret, it was also the one you met your buyer in. Your figure was very petite coming in at 5'3" and you were plump but firm. You were proud of your body and you moved with complete grace when you were on the job. However, in the comfort of your own home, you were a bit of a klutz. Your German Sheppard, Ralf, could attest to that. You had very womanly curves and then a couple extra. You had moments of insecurity like any normal woman, but you were quick to realize your own beauty and nothing was going to change that. Seeing as you were also fluent in French, it made you the perfect candidate for this job. You were tasked with getting whatever it was that was being exchanged at this location between French and Russian hands. Honestly, you missed exactly what it was you were acquiring. You knew it was a microchip of some kind, but you were too distracted by the wretched coffee they made you order to find out exactly what intel it held. But none-the-less, 4 planes, 2 trains, and one very questionable drive led you to the exchange location.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you swiftly lifted the broken window frame and glided in feet first into the dank and dark compound. Everything was unbelievably still.

Tag List: ( I tagged those still active)

@chocolatemonkeyrainbows @frostbyte-horan @crazy4thewinbros @i-love-superhero @nerdboylover @zombiewerewolfqueen @bexboo616 @yo-yo-bro-bro @leah2901 @part-time-patronus

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I was having trouble with the links for my writing so I deleted the whole thing and am starting again! Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

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Reblog this if its okay for your followers to introduce themselves to you.

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Imagine coming across the boys on a mother of all evil hunt...

You: “Those badges are about as real as my Aunt Petunia’s diet plan. Now who the hell are you... really?!” *raises already aimed gun into view*

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Imagine crushing on Bucky while you work your job as a lab engineer...

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Imagine going on your regular run past an old bunker in the woods and one day a guy walks out of it...

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Golden Rules for Fanfiction Readers:

if the fic already has a thousand comments, comment still. Your comment will still matter and delight the author.

if a fic is a decade old and the author hasn’t been active in the last five years, comment still. There will come a time when the author will read and cherish your comment, or maybe it will motivate them enough to start writing again. You never know!

if the author never responds to comments, comment still. Interaction with the author is a very nice bonus, but you can be sure that even if the author doesn’t answer, they will read it and enjoy it at some point

there’s no such thing as a too long comment.

there’s no such thing as a too incoherent comment.

the author will give no flying fuck about any gramatical errors, typo or other misspellings. If you’re a non-native speaker struggling to express themselves, you can be sure the author will be all the more pleased that you surmounted the language barrier to let them know you appreciated their work. Don’t be afraid!

there’s no such thing as commenting too often.

you will never, ever come across as creepy by obsessing over a fic or an author to the point where you worry the author might think you’re a stalker. On the contrary, the author will be delighted by your investment in their work.

say thank you. It’s always appreciated to see readers acknowledge the work and commitment that is put into writing.

the floaty review box (ao3 add-on) is your friend

be positive and encouraging. Positive reviews make writers all warm and glowy from the inside, bashing plunge their soul into icy darkness. You want the first, not the second!

whoever you are, if you read their fic, YOU are IMPORTANT to the author. Let them know you’re there!

(if any author wants to contradict one of those rules, please let me know!)

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Imagine stealing glances with Dean...

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Each Avenger reacting to you being shot and rushed into emergency surgery...

Steve...

Bucky...

Tony...

Natasha...

Scarlet...

Thor...

Sam...

Loki...

Peter...

T’Challa...

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Imagine combat training with Natasha...

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Imagine Bucky walking in and youre in the kitchen dancing and making breakfast...