#ofstrike

Loki studied Brock’s features with sleepy adoration glinting in his eyes. The two, as they were, tangled together just beneath the sheets of the bed, close enough that a kiss or two could be stolen or a lock of hair could be brushed aside. It was late--not so late it was alarming, a warning of the early hours Loki was often forced to take, but it was certainly close. Sweetly, he nosed at Brock’s stubbled chin with eyes closed, reveling in his closeness, his scent, his reassuring words. 

“Mmm,” he purred, pulling away just enough that he could rest his open eyes on the other’s face again. With a tender, practiced touch, he began to trace a finger down Brock’s temple, over cheekbones, along strong jawline, back into his hair. His own features were initially pleased, and certainly that feeling did not entirely dwindle, but as the seconds ticked past, something more sincere, more serious overtook. Not sad or severe--solemn. “Nor I, you.”

soft sentence starters: accepting!

It didn’t come much as a surprise to the bulky soldier that Rumlow had showed up to his apartment that evening. He had a feeling, deep down, that something was going to happen-- and the moment he heard the knock on the door and the gravel tone of a familiar stranger behind it that the anxiety simultaneously spiked and dissipated all at once.

Swinging the door open, Steve had stared at the man with a careful and guarded stance, feet spread and shoulders squared, just in case the smaller male had other ideas in regards to this late night visit. One look at Rumlow’s stance and the heat in his gaze told the soldier all he needed to know, and he allowed the other some breathing room; stepping back and to the side to allow the other inside his apartment.

It was a mistake, and this he knew... but far be it for Steve to deny he still felt something for the asshole that now tromped into his entryway like he owned the damn place.

He had had something with Rumlow, once upon a time-- it was something Steve thought would last a while. Perhaps not forever, as he knew that was wishful thinking and Rumlow was certainly not the type. But with all things considered, he never expected to have their relationship end because of a betrayal of Rumlow’s caliber. No, not cheating. Not a simple little lie or anything of the sort, but a full on betrayal of his trust. Working for the enemy. Plans to do-away with him once he got what he wanted.

Rumlow, from Steve’s observation, took what he wanted: whenever he wanted.

Tonight was no exception.

The body crashing against his own when the door is shut and locked has Steve taken back a little, but he recovers with a quick hand flinging up; fingers wrapped around Rumlow’s throat threateningly and yet not squeezing-- not yet. He’d give the other the benefit of the doubt for now. The lips that followed does have Steve squeezing, but only enough for Rumlow to really feel it. Maybe make it so he has to swallow harder when pulling away. The kiss is selfish, as is common with anything Rumlow does... and yet when Steve shoves him off and locks eyes with him, the words his ex all but growls against his mouth causes something to snap in Steve.

A beat passes, and Steve shoves the other roughly back against the opposite wall, pinning him as he himself had just been a moment prior. A huff escapes the blond as he lunges forward, kissing the other open mouthed and hot. It’s as though the dam that was holding him back finally broke.. overflowed and buckled under the pressure of it all, just at the sight of the other’s dark complexion and honey tinted gaze. “Asshole,” he growls into Rumlow’s mouth, hand finally squeezing enough to perhaps cause a stutter in breath as his other hand shifts to rest palm-flat on the wall above Rumlow’s shoulder.

“You’re a Goddamned asshole.”

tfln meme.  //  @ofstrike​​  // status: eternally accepting

the beeeebbbss!!!  //  @ofstrike  

          heart hammers against chest and for ALL the extreme missions they have been on over the decades– he is SURE that nothing has caused an adrenaline rush to this extreme. for a moment, with vision spotting and head spinning, he wonders if he might actually PASS OUT altogether. a notion that really– is quite ridiculous, given all the PAIN winter has been through in his time. 

           ( what’s some small injuries in comparison to the BURNING of his mind? ) 

  wincing, he finally manages to move, wriggle free of debris and stretch– reach for rumlow’s hand. fingers clench tight and there is a guttural growl as metal hand PUSHES, shoves against remaining debris pressing down on body. last remaining strength is used to break free and then– he’s on his feet. staggering, body burning with pain but mind ALIVE, alert rather than dulled by the pain. 

  scanning the surroundings, the destruction they’ve caused and the bodies left behind, winter can’t help the smirk that lifts lips for a flicker of a moment.  ( cannot help the smug satisfaction that comes from knowing he FINALLY got a chance to snap. to lose it. to kill those that tried to hurt them. )  but it is squashed down as quickly as it appears. now is NOT the time. now is the time to make use of all that training, all that brainwashing and coding.