Just add Lillian Nightshade to that list thank you very much.
~
Cold is an all too familiar feeling to me, yet even I admit that an undeniable chill shot through me like a lightning bolt once I hit the water. Through the blankets of clouds I lost Steve as I fell, yet once I brought the water of the ocean up to meet me and catch me early, caressing me into the expanse, sloshing black canvas of water below, I resurfaced and caught the eye of my super soldier who momentarily swam over to me.
"You're faster in the water. Work your way from the back of the ship on the far right hand side up, I'll take the left side and rendezvous with you at the front," he breathily commands, beginning to freestyle swim his way to the side of the monstrous sized ship.
He has to be the only person I'm alright with ordering me around. Though, ideally, I would prefer it in the bedroom. There he can really be my captain.
Mm, you can tell I haven't been laid in a while.
It's becoming a problem.
Holding my breath as I command the water to propel me under the ship and to the other side, a large, impressive turret of water elevates me like a I'm standing on a tower until I am at the same level of the main deck. At my sudden pop-goes-the-weasel moment from the side of the ship, I am instantly met with the face of one of the pirates.
A face which is so stunned, his cigar fell out of his mouth.
I twiddle my fingers, grinning widely. "Hello!"
Rearing back with the same hand, I knock him straight across his still recovering face and water whip him into the ocean below, stepping elegantly onto the deck like the boss ass bitch I am. The rest of the way is rather similar, traipsing leisurely – nearly skipping – I am met with various shouts and the ends of a barrel of many guns, but all I do is contently whistle and bring the water of the ocean below to engulf them like airborne tsunamis before dragging them to the dark, unknown watery depths below.
I mean really, Steve could have done this on his own. Not that I'm complaining, more time with the bae after all.
I try to actively engage with conversations along the way, yet there seems to be a language barrier between us. Well, there are a few militia guns and a couple hundred litres of water as well, but personally I think it's the language barrier.
"Tue-la! Tuez l'agent!" (Kill her! Kill the agent!)
"Gee, I haven't polished my French in a very long time. However, I have a feeling that wasn't very nice."
"Qu'elle fait?" (What is she doing?)
"Est-ce qu'elle discute avec nous?" (Is she talking to us?)
"My favourite ice cream flavour is Neapolitan, thank you for asking."
".... Este-elle sérieuse?" (....Is she serious?)
"Je préfère les cookies et la crème." (I prefer cookies and cream.)
By the time I reach the rendezvous point at the front of the main deck, I spy a certain red, white a blue Captain severely kick some poor, unsuspecting pirate at least 15 feet into a cylindrical gas container, the impact actually denting the metal.
Snapping out of my old, playful ways (which I normally wouldn't but Steve still doesn't know me that well), I sprint over in time to leap up into an airborne plank and double kick the chest of another pirate that almost sends a blow to that perfect face. Jumping back onto my feet, I feel a comfortingly familiar hand weave into my own.
YOU ARE READING
Played by the Enemy || Captain America || Book 2
Fanfiction"My hands are stained with dirt. And they always will be." ~ Lillian Nightshade; assassin, Captain America's girlfriend, and number one magnet for bullsh*t and bad luck. For her entire life, she's been told what to, who to kill, who she is, and what...
