#tdwv2kwritingchallenge

[woncheolisms]

You’re My Person

Summary: Injured badly after a battle, Peter stumbles through the window of the only person he wants to be with.

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1,489

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Swearing??

A/N: So I wrote this for @thedevilwearsvibranium ‘s 2k writing challenge! My prompt is bold in the fic. Tell me what y’all think!

It's hard to swing around the city when all you want to do is lay down and not move a muscle, in hopes that the pain might go away. The wind that normally caressed his skin and made him feel alive felt like sharp ice crystals pricking him now. Every movement made him groan, every web shot from his wrists made his insides clench with pain. At one point, it became too unbearable and he had to physically stop in a small alleyway to try and relax his muscles and get rid of some of the pain. It didn't work.

He limped the rest of the way, breathing hard under his mask. He couldn't even explain the amount of relief he felt when he caught sight of the familiar, tall red brick building he had been yearning to get to ever since he had crashed into the lake.

The suit had done more than enough, heating him up and keeping him alive and mobile till he got there, but he still had to do a little bit more if he was going to get to the window he had his sights on. The five floors in his way seemed to stretch out to an impossible distance, and his shoulder joint was throbbing painfully. Even though he had gone up there thousands of times before with no difficulty at all, right now it was seemed so far. Peter took a deep breath, nearly crying at the unbearable pain in his arms, before he slowly started crawling up the wall.

It was worse than he thought it would be.

Every time he would move his limbs to crawl along the wall, he would feel a painful tug where the bullet was lodged in his shoulder. It was a whole lot of groaning, crying and whimpering later that his hands finally caught onto the sill, one hand curling to a fist to lightly bang on it. He had to be quiet or he'd wake someone up. Someone other than the one person he was looking for.

Of course, she knew he could be the only person who would show up at her window of all places, at 3 in the morning. She slid the glass pane up in one quick sweep to make minimal noise, and Peter climbed in to fall on her floor with a thud. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard.

“Peter?” He heard shuffling and a click, and Y/N’s lamp lit up, the light mellow but enough to let them properly see around the room. Peter didn't move. Frankly, he didn't think he could. He heard her shocked gasp as she caught the very discreet blood stain on his shoulder, unnoticeable from afar because of the red of his suit. Before he knew it, she was tugging at his mask, pulling it off completely when he lifted his head. Her hands immediately flew up to clamp her mouth in shock, her big doe-like like eyes peering down at his face. He knew it was just as bruised and bloodied like the rest of him.

“Hey, I don't look that bad.” He joked weakly, making her snap out from her shocked trance like state.

“You idiot.” She hissed. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?” She was pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him to sit up. Peter hissed at the pressure, and she immediately retracted her hands, looking like a deer in headlights that had done something wrong.

Dragging and stumbling, with a little help from Y/N, Peter finally flopped down on her bed. Even this minor effort caused him to lose his breath, sweating profusely.

“Peter.” He heard the panic in her voice. Given the hypersensitivity of his shoulder, he immediately felt it when her hand brushed over the area, fingertips coming back bloody. “This is a bullet wound. We need to get you to a hospital-”

“No hospital.” He croaked. “We're minors. They'll call May.”

“No they won't. We'll give them Mr. Stark’s number.”

Peter let out a breath. “I kind of promised Mr. Stark that I wouldn't get into things bigger than myself.”

He heard her groan and move from the bed, reaching under it for her modest first aid kit.

“This is going to do nothing for a bullet wound.” She was grumbling. Peter felt bad for the panic in her voice, knowing he had caused it. He felt her push the black spider on his chest, and the material covering his body loosened. With some struggle, she managed to get the suit off him. Peter wanted to help, really. But he felt like his limbs weighed a thousand pounds. His eyelids were drooping. With the last of his energy, he dug his fingers into his shoulder, hearing Y/N’s intake of breath at the action. Grunting, he pulled the metal bullet out, sighing in relief as the foreign object left his body. He thanked his luck that the bullet hadn't split into fragments. Then, things would have gotten really complicated. He could already feel the flesh start to knit itself together, thanks to his gifted abilities.

“Just bandage it.” He mumbled, feeling sleepy. “It'll heal itself.”

Y/N set to work then, her focus primarily on stopping the bleeding shoulder. Peter felt his muscles slowly but surely uncurl and untwist under her gentle hands.

“I don't know how to treat bullet wounds.” She spoke up. “I'm just a kid, Pete. Why’d you come here when I can't do anything for you?”

“Because you're my person.” Peter's head lolled to the side to catch her eye. Her movements slowed at his words, the worry in her eyes softening. He sent her a small smile which she returned, breaking her gaze to focus on the work at hand. The sleep that was a long time coming finally consumed Peter, pulling him under the cloud of unconsciousness.

...............

The first sensation Peter experienced when he next came to consciousness was a tingling across his scalp as fingers ran through his hair. Slightly screwing his eyes shut, he then opened them, his gaze meeting big, soft ones.

“Hey.” Y/N whispered.

The lamp that had previously casted a dim yellow light across the room was turned off. Instead, little rays of morning light from the window illuminated the mostly dark room. Peter could make out Y/N’s relaxed features despite the little light, and he let his eyes trace them slowly. He immediately noticed the bags under her eyes, the tiredness of her lax features. He knew instantly that she hadn't slept at all.

It was then that he noticed how pliant he felt, how relaxed. His body was humming quietly and he suddenly became aware of the tight bandages around his shoulder. He glanced down to see the white against his bare torso. Here and there, little bruises and cuts had been cleaned. He smiled, heart lurching at the thought of Y/N picking even the smallest of wounds and fixing them. He had been covered in them. It must have taken her so long.

“How're you feeling?” His eyes lifted up to hers again at the sound, smiling. He felt his head resting on her lap, her face upside down above him, hair falling to the side and slightly tickling his neck.

“Much better.” He rasped out, smiling. She sighed, presumably in relief, and smiled back at him. Peter stayed as he was, not wanting to give up the warmth in his body, the comfort he felt throughout. Y/N continued to card her fingers through his hair, and Peter hoped she wouldn't stop anytime soon.

“You didn't have to look over every wound.” He voiced. “The shoulder was the real problem. The rest would have healed on their own. Did you even sleep?”

She shrugged, which Peter knew meant no, she hadn't slept. He slightly frowned at her, but he couldn't bring himself to be mad when her fingertips brushed over his face, tracing his cheekbones and jaw. Lightly running over the little cut on his jaw, the bruise on his cheek and the purple bruise under his eye.

“I wanted to.” She said, finally.

“Why?” The light was getting brighter, and Peter knew that in a while, the Sun would completely rise.

“Because you're my person.” She replied softly, not letting him reply before leaning over and connecting their lips upside down. She captured his bottom lip as he did the same to hers, sighing peacefully at the feeling. Her hand held his jaw so delicately, Peter almost wouldn't have felt it if his skin hadn't tingled at the contact.

He never would have imagined that less than six hours after the roughest fight of his life, he would feel so content and so happy. He wished he could stay like this forever, her soft lips on his and hair tickling his face as she kissed him again and again.

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[quicksilverslover]

Over The Seas - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Captain Y/L/N, one the most dangerous pirate of the seas, meets the British Navy Captain Pietro Maximoff and he tries to bargain for a win-win exchange.

Prompt: “The world can be amazing when you are slightly strange.”

From: Me To: @thedevilwearsvibranium

A/N: Super congratulations for the 2K followers, Veronica/Nat! You so deserve each one and so many more!!! I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this! :/ Actually, I had written another story and I hated it, so, 5 days ago, I started this one XD

Warnings: language, sexual innuendo, my absolute lack of knowledge about the naval language and super bad and incoherent writing?

Word count: 1,3K+

Enjoy :*

Captain Y/N Y/L/N breathed the salty air of the sea and smiled to herself. In the horizon, a very well familiar ship could be seen, the HMS Carrol A. Deering. Her dearest enemy Captain Maximoff was coming for her… Again.

As if Y/N hadn't noticed yet, the steward, Parker, yelled from the crow’s nest. “Enemy ship in…” He looked at the measurement on his instrument. “... 19,600 feet to starboard! Captain! Your orders?”

“... Oh dear.” She spoke, hearing the sounds of the crew bracing themselves for a possible conflict. “Let's have a talk with that Queen’s dog.”

Biting a nail, Y/N spoke louder this time. “I want fifty men with me like we planned last week!” She pointed to the said group. “ The rest of you know your positions!”

Captain Pietro Maximoff's - and consequently his crew’s - job was to protect any royal load from the deadly thieves over the seas, the pirates.

Usually, that was not that difficult. The British Navy was the most powerful in the world, and only a few pirate ships could surpass its power.

However (and that is a big however), hands down - Pietro knew when he could be defeated - to a certain sea-rover, commanded by no frightful man, but a frightful, beautiful and seductive woman.

Y/N Y/L/N had been a menace to the British government for a while now. the losses amounted to thousands of pounds. And Captain Maximoff was the only one who successfully stopped some of her attacks, for he was not stupid.

Instead of underestimating (and eventually annoying) Y/N, Pietro saw her as the brave and dangerous pirate (a bloody mermaid) she was and used that wisdom in his favour.

… That, along with a few more persuasive exchanges.

And now here he was, ready to face his foe again.

He knew better than not having his cannons ready to attack, even though he was sure that a conflict wouldn't happen. Not right now, at least.

There wasn’t a conflict last time after all. Well, he did right to set the cannons and his men anyway, because she had done the same when he arrived.

When the HMS Carrol A. Deering and the Viper were sides to side, at last, Pietro could finally take a look at Y/N. It had been almost a year since their last meeting, she had grown up since then. He ran his eyes over the loosen shirt and tight pants, both embracing her frame perfectly, and gulped.

Shit.

After a gesture with her hand, Y/N’s crew settled some nets and wooden boards. With great dexterity, they created an impromptu, relatively safe bridge. Y/N crossed it without a care in the world, not being able to contain a grin. Her men followed right behind, all armed to the teeth.

“Captain Maximoff… I know we made it out alive last time…” First Mate Rogers called, looking at the woman in question. “But isn’t this plan… Very, very dangerous?”

“Too late. Just do like I said.” Pietro whispered just enough for Steve to hear. “We offer her a good scapegoat, and that’s it.”

“Huh… I mean… She did fool us back then…” He stated.

“She didn’t fool us last time. She had more men, which is not the case here, and you may notice her ship is a bit bigger than ours. Thanks to my risky plan we’re aliv-”

Pietro coughed, ending the conversation as the mercenary finally stepped on the HMS’s deck. 

“Well, well, well… Looks like the Queen and the Czar are in good terms still!” Y/N started, referring to Pietro's Russian nationality. She was smiling bashfully, which contradicted her words. “I missed you, Captain! Hello, hello~” She waved briefly at the rest of Pietro’s crew, who pointed revolvers and guns at her own men, who did the same.

“Captain Y/L/N.” Pietro greeted, hands behind his back. He put on his best flirty smile. “You look well.”

“You don't look so bad yourself.” She replied casually, but her smirk gave her intentions away. “It’s been a while.~”

Pietro snorted, then mirrored her smirk, looking down at her lips for a second. “... We should be trying to kill each other, you know.” She nodded in response, looking around at the raised stink.

“You know very well, dear Maximoff, that the last Her Majesty's Ship…” She chuckled sarcastic and darkly “... that dared to face my Viper, was awarded the magic to sail underwater. I’m sure you read the news.”

Pietro almost chuckled. Because it was true. That woman was no joke. Suddenly the idea of trying to kill each other seemed not so appealing. Yet he smiled. “It's unusual for a lady to talk like this. You are certainly strange.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, biting her lip. “The world can be amazing when you are slightly strange.” She stepped closer to him, who didn’t even flinch. “Look at me now. I’m wealthier than any of your ‘non-strange’ ladies. And I wear pants.”

While any other jerk would find that outrageous, Pietro thought that as the sexiest thing. Her bad language was sexy. Her very non-disguising-as-a-man demeanor was sexy.

Dammit. This was not going anywhere. Even though inviting her to come inside his cabin was definitely not the smartest option, but the most effective for sure.

“Look… Y/L/N…” He let out a fake sigh. “Perhaps we could talk, maybe bargain so we both win? I don’t want any losses here and I’m sure you don’t either.

He could hear First Mate Rogers rolling his eyes. And fuck the government and its sovereignty, huh, Captain?

“And by ‘talk’ you mean….?” Y/N smirked. Pietro gulped again but remained as serious as he could. “By ‘talk’ I mean ‘talk'. Follow me.”

Y/N did so, chuckling for she knew they wouldn’t just talk.

Long legs wrapped around Pietro’s waist tightly as he pinned her against the wall firmly. “I missed this…” She whispered in his ear.

“You know, Y/N…” His accent gave life to the sentence. “These pants you wear... are atrocious…” He said in between kisses, making her giggle. “Then take them off.”

“I’ve been thinking about you since last time.” He said seductively, using his free hand to unbuckle her belt. Y/N licked his earlobe. “Let’s see how much you did…”

The fooling around session took the majority of their time. They used about 5 minutes to actually agree on something that would benefit them both. He gave her a bag of 3 thousand pounds.

It’s not like Pietro liked to bargain with pirates and betray his government. It’s just that… Y/N was both dangerous and irresistible. He couldn’t help himself. getting out of this mess alive and bedding her was like killing two birds with one stone.

After that Y/N left. No lives lost. No losses at all.

Pietro watched the Viper leave and smiled. He then turned to Steve, who was not happy at all. “Why this face?”

“Captain… You might want to take a look at the warehouse.”

“Captain?” The First Mate Barnes called, timidly at first, as Y/N wiped the dreamy expression from her face and turned to him. “We… ended up not looting the ship this time.” He crossed his arms and smirked this time. “Does your encounter with Captain Maximoff has something to do with that?”

Y/N started to laugh, which had Barnes raising an eyebrow. “Oh, did we really forget?” She continued to giggle. “You seem not to know me well, Bucky. How many men did Captain see?”

He seemed to think a little. “Fifty, you told fifty to join us. And… 25 on our deck?” It started to dawn on him. A smile grew on his face. She continued. “And how many men do we have…?” At this point, James was grinning widely. “A hundred twenty-five.”

“And what were the remaining fifty doing, as our specialty is to sneak around?”

First Mate Barnes started to laugh, alongside his captain and the following loyal crew. “I can’t believe he fell for that.”

When Maximoff climbed down the deck, he could only sigh and run a hand over his face, as he saw the storage completely empty. And it was not the first time she fooled him like this.

“Bloody... Gh!”

The End

If anyone is triggered by Pietro’s comment about Y/N’s way of speaking being strange, remember that the story takes place in 18th century and that, indeed, women with a less than exquisite vocabulary was not something common. He's not saying it because he's evol. He was just raised with that mentality.

[americaswritings]

Fight you

Warnings: angst, a little dramtic lol, horrible writing tbh

Prompt: “I will fight you”

Summary: You’re on Caps team while Peter is on Team Iron Man. Will you really go as far hurting each other or can your friendship still be saved?

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

A/N: Takes place during Civil War. This is for @thedevilwearsvibranium writing challenge! Congrats!! 💓 

Add yourself to my taglist!

You made your way over to Peters apartment. Your backpack felt heavier on your shoulders with every step you took, mirroring your nervousness and the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

You had to tell Peter something, which could lead into not only an argument, but a fight.

The way to his apartment was too short for you liking. When you reached the front door of the building you hadn’t prepared your words at all.

But there was no way out of this so you sighed and pushed the door open.

May let you in with a big smile on her face, returning to the kitchen to continue baking what smelled like cookies.

You walked over to Peters room, taking a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Come in”, you heared his voice and you opened the door, seeing Peter bent over his computer.

His face lit up when he saw that it was you and he stopped his work instantly.

“Hey, did I forget something?”, he wondered, but you shook your head.

“No, I just came to- you know- tell you something”, you stated, sitting down on Peters bed insecure.

He sensed that whatever you had to tell him was serious so he sat down next to you, patiently waiting for you to speak up.

“Clint called me”, you began and Peters face twisted in realization. He knew where this was going.

Since Peter had revealed to you that he was spiderman, you had helped him as much as possible, including accompanying him when he first met the avengers.

While Peter spend most of the time with Tony working on a new suit you waited in the living room.

The other avengers didn’t have much time, being busy with missions and other secret stuff, but Clint was always there for you, talking and helping you overcome the time Peter was gone.

You two had grown close so it was only logical that he was the first one you turned to when you discovered that something was different about you.

A wave of energy you had never felt before was flooding your body, giving you a sudden strength you didn’t know how to handle.

You didn’t tell Peter at first, since he had already many problems on his own, but after you pushed him a little too hard while tickling each other, you couldn’t hide the truth from him anymore.

You later found out that you were able to manipulate the constant vibrations of the universe, which allowed you to produce shockwaves and gave you the ability to affect objects by shaking and moving them.

“What did he say?”, Peter asked, although he already knew the answer to his question. 

“He wanted to recruit me on Caps team”, you stated, your eyes scanning Peters face for any hint on what he felt.

“But you said no, didn’t you?”, he concluded with an stiff laugh.

You stayed silent, knowing that this was the part you had feared the most.

“You said no, didn’t you?”, Peter repeated more forcefully this time and you adverted your gaze to the ground.

“I can’t let them down”, you mumbled instead and you heared Peter snort. “You can’t be serious”, he whispered, while getting up from the bed to pace the room.

“What else should I have done?”, you snapped, giving him a pleading look to understand your decision.

“Say no?”, Peter suggested with a huff.

“You know I can’t do that”, you reasoned and he stopped pacing. “You know what that means, do you?”, he asked and you slowly nodded.

“It means that we will be enemies (y/n)! We will have to fight each other in two days!”, Peter went on, the rage and desperation visible in his voice.

“I won’t fight you”, you whispered, turning your gaze back to his.

“But I will”, he declared and you felt your jaw clapping open.

“I will fight you.”

“Why?”, you murmured, starring up at Peter with big eyes. The shock must have been visible on your face, because he shifted uncomfortably.

“Mr. Stark- they are all counting on me”, Peter tried to argue, but you shook your head.

“So this is your decision?”, you asked, tears making their way into your eyes.

He put his chance to prove himself over your friendship?

“I don’t have a choice”, Peter hissed, but you shook your head again.

“You always have a choice”, you commented, grabbing your backpack, and left the room, not looking back at the heartbroken boy once again.

-

“Are you sure about this? You can always back out, you know that right?”

Clints voice woke you out of your thoughts, but you kept putting on your suit.

“I have to do this”, you cut him off and he knew that it was time to let it go.

You had just arrived in germany, everyone preparing for the plan.

In only a matter of time you had to face Peter, your best friend, your enemy.

Your only hope was that maybe you could fight somebody else and didn’t have to face him in a hand-to-hand combat.

But soon you found yourself standing in the group of your team, directly facing Tony and the others. 

You couldn’t discover Peter anywhere and for a split of a second you hoped that maybe he had changed his mind, but suddenly you saw a small figure jumping through the air, landing gracefully on the opposite side.

Peter was dressed in his new spiderman suit, Captain americas shield in his hands, which he had stolen during his arrival.

A few words were exchanged, but you didn’t really pay attention. All you could focus on was the boy in front of you.

It broke your heart to see him like this, not even paying attention to you. 

All he was focused on was proving himself to Tony and as much as you saw that he wanted to please the man, who was like a father figure to him, you couldn’t understand how easily he threw away your friendship.

Surely, you were the one agreeing on joying Caps team, but you had never imagined that you had to fight Peter. You would have refused, but here you were. 

He seemed to have made his decision, so why shouldn’t you do too?

The fight followed soon. Everyone began running towards their opponents and you did the same. You picked Natasha, who was trying to throw punches at Clint.

Within a second you had send a shockwave at her, sending her several meters through the air until she fell to the ground.

You wanted to go at her again, but a pain shot through your back and you were thrown to the ground.

Black panther was standing behind you, ready to attack you again.

You send a shockwave at him but he ducked away in time and began attacking you.

While his fists collided with your body you wondered why no one had thought about teaching you self defence.

You tried your best to escape his grip, but it was too firm. Helplessly you felt your panic increase, but in a last attempt to get rid of your oponent you kicked him.

The second he was distracted you used to free yourself from his grip, rolling to the side and standing up again quickly.

Before he could attack you, you send a shockwave at him, sending him through the air away from you.

The fight seemed to endure ages, but also went on too quickly.

You needed to be focused every second. Every little distraction could be determining how this would end.

Sweat was dripping down your forehead and your hair was flying wild around your shoulders, but the adrenaline kept you going.

Suddenly you saw a red-blue figure and not a second later you stood directly face to face with him.

Spiderman.

Peter Parker.

You were only a few inches apart, but it felt like something was seperating you. A barrier, a thin line turning you into enemies.

You had prepared for this to happen, considered his weaknesses and planned how you could overpower the spiderboy. 

But now, when you were directly facing him, you felt frozen.

You couldn’t attack him. It felt wrong, no, it was wrong. This was your best friend and you wouldn’t try to hurt him no matter what.

Even if that meant losing. Peter was worth it.

“I’m not gonna fight you”, you spoke up, your voice calm and steady.

Somehow you didn’t feel nervous nor afraid. You didn’t fear Peter attacking you and you didn’t fear giving up.

It didn’t make you weak, but strong.

No one could ever be able to make you turn against Peter, your best friend, the person you felt at home with.

Peters face twisted in confusion, but he seemed determined. “But I will”, he said and you nodded, waiting for him to get it over with.

Peter stepped a little closer, his hand ready to shoot a web at you, but you could see the determination on his face leaving him.

Deep inside he knew this was wrong.

“I have to do this”, Peter whispered, the inner conflict displaying on his features.

You nodded, relaxed and prepared for what would follow.

“Then do it”, you encouraged him with a small smile.

This somehow irriated Peter even more and you could see his hand shaking.

“C’mon it’s just a little web”, you chuckled, but you knew that this wasn’t about what impact it would have on you. It was about if he would do it. If he was willing to let this destroy your friendship. If a simple decision could make him attack his best friend.

“I can’t”, Peter confessed, his hand falling to his side again.

Tears had filled his vision and his face was twisted in confusion.

You carefully walked over to him, embracing the boy in your arms with a smile.

He was surprised at first, but then pulled you close to him.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it”, you muttered proudly, forgetting that you were in the midst of a battlefield.

Peter made you forget, about all the pain and hopelessness in the world.  When you were with him it didn’t matter.

You were at home.

Little did you know Tony had been watching the two of you, but instead of disappointment a proud smile was covering his face.

He had been right about Peter all along. He was better than him.

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[thatcrazybookwormgeek]

The P.I.’s Girlfriend

A/N: This is my submission for @thedevilwearsvibranium 's writing challenge. My prompt was "You throw punches, I throw insults." I kind of went a little off topic, but I kinda like it.

Paring: Jessica Jones x Reader

Warnings: Threats, bad guys, mentions of torture.

  "Remind me what we're doing here again babe." The melodic voice of my girlfriend, Jessica Jones rang in my ear.

   "We're getting Intel for a case, the person should be here any minute." I checked my watch, he was due back in 5 minutes.

   Reaching for my camera I placed it on top of the road work sign we're crouching behind. I clicked open the lens, and  began to look through it. Right on time our target entered the view and I captured a few pictures.

   "Ok, I got some photos lets go." I put my cameras neck strap around my neck, and grabbed my girlfriends hand as we walked back to where we parked our car.

   "You dragged me along for some photos?" Her voice was laced with annoyance as she entered the car.

   "Yep, had to get some blackmail so we can get some dirt on Vanroe." I got on the car as well and put on my seatbelt.

   "He has dirt on Vanroe? What would a dirty billionaire want with a lower class accountant?" Jessica asked as she began to drive back to our shared apartment.

  "He launders all of Vanroe's funds. Vanroe buys a lot of donuts, the donut shop owner uses our target as his accountant, who buys a lot of Vanroe's products. And thus Vanroe's money is clean." The whole method was ingenious if you ask me, simple but virtually undetectable, unless you're me.

                The next day

  "You know the plan right?" I had to ask to calm my nerves.

   "Relax Y/N, I know the plan." My girlfriend was tired because we were up all night looking for more dirt, but still she humored me. "We go in, pressure Brendon into dirt on Vanroe, and when we get it leave. It's all simple babe."

   According to my Intel, he would be grabbing a coffee at a local stand in fifteen minutes, so we started our walk over. On the way there we actually had a chance to grab a bagel, since neither of us ate breakfast

  "Brendon, Vanroe's little minion. Does he know what you do at night?" I stalked my prey with a feral gaze.

   "Can't say I know who you are, or what you're talking about." He rang his hands together as he stepped out of line for his coffee.

   "Of course not, he'd kill you of he knew what I knew." Ok, so maybe I didnt exactly know what he was doing in that building, but his body language was telling me my hunch was most likely correct.

   "Look, I'd prefer if he never knew what I do at night. So what do I need to do to keep this under wraps." Easy peasy, I barely applied any pressure and he cracked like an egg.

   "All I need is proof that he's been laundering money through you, and he'll never have to know. Capische?"

   "But that will bring me down too!" Should have figured he would run at the sign of danger, cowards always do. 508

   "Well, either you give me what I want, or I can make sure you never see the light of day, I mean, who would miss you?" He seemed to make at the thought, but I knew he needed at least one more push.

   "Kill me if you want but I won't be caught." He seemed to think that he now had the upper hand.

   "Who said anything about death, I like to play with my toys. Imagine how much fun we could have together, just you, me, and my tools." I knew I'd won now as his body language proved my point.

   "Fine, I'll send some right now." And that he did.

   With the proof we needed to put a bad man in jail me and my girlfriend made our way back to our apartment to email it anonymously to the police.

   "I didn't know you could be that persuasive." She seemed impressed.

   "You throw punches, I throw insults, or I guess in this case threats. That's why we make such a great pair."

   We laughed together as we walked into the sunrise on our way to sleep.

[captialrogers]

Dying to Let You Know (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Summary: Matt doesn’t know how to comfort someone in the wake of a loss, especially when that loss is a father. 

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, loss of a parent, angst.

Wordcount: 1,266

AN: This is a bad one. I’ve been so drained after completing a 15,000-word dissertation and moving back from abroad. So I apologize if it blows. Written for @thedevilwearsvibranium 2k writing challenge with the song prompt ‘Daddy Issues’ by the Neighbourhood. Again, I’m sorry it’s not the best thing ever!

Masterlist

The rain was one of the only things that completely overwhelmed his senses. So when it pelted the large windows that covered the wall of his apartment, Matt was forced to concentrate even harder to hear your slow breaths of slumber in the next room. If he let it, the constant pitter-patter would drown out the steady beat of your heart, but he wouldn’t. There was something comforting about the beat of a heart that Matt wouldn’t trade for the world. It was the sun on a summer day, filling his body with warmth and the brief feeling of euphoria. It was a reminder that he was alive and that he had a purpose — a duty — in life.

Especially yours. Everything about you reminded him that there was more to life than 'catching the bad guy’. Each touch of your warm body to his cold one caused electricity to run through him, stimulating every inch of his skin. He couldn’t run from the lilac and honeysuckle you always smelt of, even when the grime of Hell’s Kitchen coated your skin. All of this and much more reminded Matt that he could be himself with you. Even the bits he tried so hard to deny.

With each pang of a metal spoon against a ceramic mug, the man let himself get lost in your rhythmic breathing. When you woke from a much-needed nap, he would be there, tea in hand and ready to soothe any and all worries. After all, he had been there once.

He had been a mess after losing the one person who believed in him. Matt knew what it was like to lose a father and although the relationship between you and your father was less than ideal (Foggy had even suggested that you had ‘daddy issues’, but Matt couldn’t bring himself to agree. If he did accept it, what did that say about him and what happened with his father?), he knew it was something that could wreck you despite how strong of an air you put on. He knew when you were hiding behind a mask and lying about how you were doing. He would always know and it wasn’t because of his heightened senses.

The rustling of sheets pulled the lawyer from his musings and he expertly walked from behind his kitchen counter to the sliding door of his bedroom. Though you weren’t quite awake, Matt could tell by the quickening beat of your heart that you would be conscious soon.

“Matty…” You whispered, groggy and still, clearly, half asleep.

He smiled slightly as you lifted your head from the pillow; part of your hair sticking up in odd directions. “Brought you some tea. I thought you’d like it.” As Matt made his way to the bed, you partially sat up and reached out for the warm cup when he held it out.

Mumbling thanks, you took a small sip of the liquid and closed your eyes, savoring the taste. You weren’t sure how he did it, but Matt always managed to make you the perfect cup. “Have you been up long?” You asked as the man sat down on the side of the bed. When he shook his head ‘no’ you sighed knowing that he had indeed been up longer than he let on.

The silence sat heavy between the pair of you, neither wanting to bring up what had happened earlier that day. Shifting, you leaned against the pillows and held the cup of tea to your chest. You knew that he wanted to comfort you. To tell you that it would get better. But he couldn’t and you weren’t sure why. So instead you stared down into your tea, watching it ripple with each tremble of your hands. The more you tried to conceal it the harder your hands shook.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Startled, your head snapped to look at the man sitting beside you. “You can’t blame yourself for something that he did himself.” Matt couldn’t say what he really wanted to. Not while you were in this much pain. The man you were grieving didn’t deserve the tears that you shed for him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness. Especially after what he had put you through.

“Excuse me?” Breathless, you placed the mug of tea down on the side table with a hard, but low thud. “You do not get to tell me that, Matt.”

“It’s the truth isn’t it?” He reached out for your hand but stopped when you pulled away from him.

“Was it true for you? When you lost your father? Did you believe them when they told you it wasn’t your fault?” You watched as he sat in silence, his jaw clenching. You were right. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that. He wouldn’t tell you that he still blamed himself for his father’s death, even after all of these years. “That’s not fair, [y/n]. You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what, Matt?” You interrupted, tossing the blankets from your body, “Tell my father to do it? No, I didn’t. But I might as well have. I should have been there. I should have…” You knew that what you were saying didn’t make sense, but you had to get it off of your chest. You had to make the guilt you felt turn into something else, even if it was anger. Suddenly, you were encased in something warm and a surprised cry escaped your lips. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him to hold you, not when all you wanted was to chuck your tea at his stupid, hypocritical head. But when you struggled to get away, Matt’s hold on you tightened and you tasted the tears before you felt them. “He’s gone, Matty, and he’ll never know.” Bitting back sobs, you clutched onto the male as if he was the only thing holding you up as the ground was falling from beneath you.

He closed his eyes. “I’m sure he knew. He must have.” Feeling his way from your back to your head, Matt took hold of your cheeks and touched his forehead to yours. “Your father knew how much you loved him. That you forgave him.” He felt your head nod slightly in response and placed a light kiss on to your lips before pulling you back into a tight embrace. He could feel your body tremble and your chest heave with sobs of pain and grief.

“I’m so sorry.” You choked out, “I didn’t mean…"

“I know.” He responded in a low voice that matched yours. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Matt pulled you closer, rubbing your back and drawing figure eights until your cries became whimpers and then silence. “It wasn’t your fault. It was nobody's fault.” He knew that you didn’t want to hear it, but it was the truth, regardless of how you felt about it. Matt would repeat it for the rest of your shared lives if it meant that you would one day believe him. When he felt your head shake in disagreement, the lawyer sighed. There was no use in trying to convince you that night, not when everything was so fresh and raw. Instead, Matt pulled your body down onto the bed with his, holding you as close and as tightly as he could. 

He would wait until your quick beating heart slowed and your breathing became deep before untangling himself and making his way back into the kitchen to fix another cup of tea. Perhaps this next one would calm the sea of grief building inside of you.

[bvckysmanbun]

Never Ending

Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader

Written for @thedevilwearsvibranium 2k Challenge. I do apologize in advance, this has no clear plot and this is my first time writing for Sam. I do hope you all enjoy! Comments/feedback/likes/reblogs are always appreciated!

Warnings: some angst, mild cursing

Word Count: 1.499

Masterlist

Sam stood tall. His arms crossed over his chest, his head held high, and his eyes trained on the figure that sat on the metal chair, their hands in cuffs on the accompanied metal table. His face remained stoic, his hands that were tucked under his arms clenching at his sides.

Her gaze stayed on the mirror, her lips turned in a light smirk and her eyebrow arched in teasing manner. Her fingers intertwined, and she gave a small tug to the cuffs that engulfed her wrists. Her thumbs brushed over each other, her head tilted to the left and her smirk grew.

“Sam,” Steve called out gingerly. Sam’s gaze did not falter, his eyes focused on her. He searched her face, he wanted to some kind validation that this wasn’t her. That it was stranger who wore a disguise resembling her, an artist that knew their way with makeup, any excuse that would better reason that this wasn’t her that sat across from him in another room.

Steve’s voice did not sound like it was on the surface while Sam was plunged underwater. Sam turned his head away from her and towards his friend, their eyes quickly met. Steve’s eyebrows raised in concern before they furrowed, his hands hesitantly found their way into the pocket of jeans, and he gave a half nod towards the window. A deep exhale left Sam’s lips as he turned his attention back to the glass plane in front of them. “Yeah, it’s her,” he replied quietly to Steve’s unspoken question.

Sam’s eyes met hers. He finally caught her. After years and years of playing the same damn game of Cat and Mouse,he finally caught her. He still remembers the night it all started.

She was wearing that damn gold halter dress with a gold masquerade mask. She slipped past the hall that was packed with men and women, their bodies pressed closely to each other. He stood on his toes, his body weaving the pool of strangers, his head peeking and his eyes searching. He called out her name as he finally got through. He caught sight of her as she gave him a mischievous smile and slipped out the door.

Sam pushed past another stream of strangers to get to the door that led him to the backyard. The sound of the ocean’s waves crashing against each other filled the air. Sam could smell the salt. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dark. With the help of the full moon’s lights, he spotted her standing where gate door met the sand.

She threw a glance at him over her shoulder, a smirk on her lips. “Samuel,” his name rolled off her tongue and his palms began to perspire, his heart hammered against his chest all while his breath caught in his chest. He was about to question how she had known his name when she smiled, her body now turned towards him. His voice did not escape, only a small gust of breath.

Her hands reached behind her head, her fingers worked to untie the silk ribbons and the gold mask fell to the ground. Sam’s heart stopped, he swore he died for a few seconds before it started to beat again. Her eyes gleamed and crinkled at the edge from her smirk playful, her cheeks turn perched higher on her face from the quirked corners of her mouth. Sam took a step closer, his eyes furrowed and his hand outstretched. She laughed almost silently, her feet carrying her backwards onto the sand until she disappeared right before his eyes.

“You sure you want to do this?” Steve asked, he brought Sam back to reality and watched Sam uncross his arms. He took a deep breath in and pushed himself out of the door to the room on the other side of the glass. Sam looked at Steve who remained in his place. He inhaled before his hand gripped the door’s handle.

“No,” Sam murmured. He pushed the door open, her eyes instantly landed on his figure. Her smirk grew, and she leaned back against the chair. Sam made his way to the seat in front her, his back to the glass panel where Steve could no longer see his face. Her eyes never left his moving figure.

“Samuel,” his name rolled off her tongue in a sickly-sweet tone. The smell of ocean salt faintly filled his nostrils, the imaginary breeze from the coast made goosebumps shoot up his arms and spine. His heart stopped, and his palms became clammy the same way they did those years ago. He nodded at her and replied back with her name.

“You finally caught me,” she said. The sparkle in her eyes made him gulp silently. His hands planted themselves on the table and he stood himself up from the chair. Her eyes followed him, her smirk shrunk, but he could see it in the way she looked at him; this was all just a part of her game.

“You let yourself get caught,” he responded. He lowered himself so that their faces were leveled. She leaned in, her fingers unclasped from each other, and she shrugged. Her smirk turned into a loving smile as she leaned forward, their noses only inches apart.

“I got tired of playing,” she whispered. The lids of Sam’s eyes fell half open, his heart pounded against his chest, but the beating carried throughout the entirety of his body. His gaze fell to her lips, the same plump brims of her mouth that he had once tasted. His taste buds were flooded with the distant taste of candied-cherry.

“But here you are, still playing,” Sam exhaled as he pushed himself up and away from the table. He felt himself go weak for a brief moment. Her eyes watched as he paced back and forth, a small chuckle left her lips. He stopped and looked at her. She was no longer watching him, but rather, her eyes were analyzing him, picking him apart piece by piece. “Stop trying to figure me out.”

She laughed. It resonated throughout the room, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, it caused butterflies to flutter around in his stomach, and it caused his stupid heart to melt. She stood from her spot, her hands wrapped around the chains of the handcuffs and she tugged. She grinned down at them and tugged hard. Pieces of metal chain flew to the floor and she rushed to him, her arm pressed against his chest, his back pressed to the wall. Her lips ghosted over his, her eyes roamed over his face before they settled to meet his.

“Oh, Sammy…I already have you all figure out,” she whispered. Her nose brushed against his cupid’s bow then against his nose. Her lips over his again, but never fully touching. “You’re loyal, you’re competitive, very level-headed.” She looked up and held his gaze. Her smile grew, her fingers walked their way up his chest until they cupped his neck. “Willing sacrifice yourself for what you believe in…I admire that, Samuel,” she murmured.

“Why me?” Sam mumbled, his hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand that held his neck. She giggled as she leaned up and closer to his lips, a giggled slipped past her own lips. She closed her eyes and captured his lips with hers. Her other hand moved to cup his cheek, his free hand found its place on her waist.

It was rushed, all emotions poured into it. Sam pressed himself closer to her. He wanted to remember this taste; it was no longer candied-cherry, but a subtle vanilla. Ocean-salt wafted its way into his nose and his hands had a solid image to hold onto, no longer the empty air that she had left behind each time she disappeared. Sam was the first one to pull away.

“Because I love a challenge,” she whispered, her eyes opened to stare up at him. Sam looked at her, his mouth open to respond only to be stopped by that all too familiar smirk. His eyes widened, and he called out her name. She pushed herself away from him, throwing the table over to its side and blocked him from going towards her. She kicked the door open and stopped at the threshold. She peered over her shoulder and laughed silently. “See you soon, Samuel,” she called over before disappearing.

Sam stood there, eyes wide, mouth agape as Steve ran past the door. Shouts and alarms sounded off throughout the compound. They’d never catch her, it was impossible. He looked down and saw a slip of paper on the ground. He pushed the table away and picked up the paper that read, “accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victories – G.S.P”

Sam groaned internally as he looked towards the door. This was just a new round to her game, and he was ready to play ball.

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