Marvel Imagines/One Shots (Book 1)

Steve- Enemies With Benefits

POV: You and Steve are married, but fighting on opposite sides, him the "good" and you the "bad". One day you get shot at work- by him- and he'll never live it down.

This is a kinda short one (I say as I look at my 1K+ word count) but I am ✨rushing✨ here so enjoy my rambling. Honestly at this point I'd settle for a chapter that isn't Bucky for the fourth time.

Word Count: 1,079
Type: Angsty and funny at the same time, idk how
Reader Pronouns: She/her

Your outfit:

•••

You ran down the alleyway, gun in one hand, loot in the other. It wasn't big, per say, only about $3,000 in cash, but it would be enough for the next few weeks. You sped past dumpsters and ran out into the street. It was late at night, but it was New York City, the city than never sleeps, and apparently people were taking that to heart. You sighed. These people would do nothing but get in your way. If they were brave, they might even try to stop you.

You raised your gun above your head and fired a couple times as the people on the street screamed and scrambled out of your way. You nodded and took off running again, rounding a corner and walking smack dab into Captain America, AKA your husband. You groaned and gave your best fake smile. "Captain, how are you on this fine evening?"
"Y/N, we need the money back."
"No can do, Capsicle. I kinda need this cash."

You adjusted the bag thrown over your shoulder and smirked. You and Steve had been married for years, almost no one knew and those who did didn't think it would work, but you proved them wrong. You kept Steve in business after Thanos, just minor crimes like robberies and such, but it was enough to keep him on edge. "Do you have to call me that?"
"Sorry old man, but I've got to make a living somehow."
"Y/N," he said in a lowered voice, "we make a living."
"Based on your work, that I supply. Now you're in the field, stop being my husband and start being my enemy."

He gave you a puzzled look and opened his mouth, but before he said anything you swept his legs out from under him and took off running, using the element of surprise to your advantage. You could hear him groan and roll over. You knew full well he could catch you- damn super soldier serum- but he never did, always saying he was too wounded to catch you, plus he knew you barely kept any, donating the rest. You appreciated that he kept you out of jail, but you loved a good escape from time to time.

You bolted around another corner and made a run for your getaway car that definitely wasn't stolen. You pulled open the door and threw the money bag into the passenger seat. You were about to climb in when; BANG! A gunshot rang out, striking you in the calf. You yelped and groaned, sliding your hand down to where the bullet hit you, feeling warm, sticky blood starting to drip from the wound. You cursed and looked at who had fired, eyes widening. It was Steve, your freaking husband. You gave him a look that was a mix of confusion and sheer and utter rage."I swear to god I'm going to kill him when I get home..." You muttered angrily to yourself, rolling your eyes.

You got in the car, slamming the door shut and started driving, looking in the rear view mirror as Steve and his face of horror got farther and farther away. He wasn't going to ever hear the end of this.

•••Time Skip•••

You unlocked the door to your apartment and pushed open the door, opening it with such force it hit the wall and swang back as you entered, eyes alight with rage. You limped over to the couch, slinging the bag of cash under the table at the front door.

You sat down and examined your leg, the blood had dried but there was still a bullet in it. You took a deep breath and reached your finger inside, grimacing in pain as you pulled it out. Out of the whole getting shot process, this was the worst part. When you finally got the bullet out, you dropped it on the table and sighed in relief before heading to the bathroom to stitch yourself up.

You hobbled into the bathroom and pulled out the first aid kit, quickly getting to work on the wound. Rinse, sanitize, stitch, bandage, a routine you had completed quite a few times. You threw everything back into the box and shoved it back under the sink, walking to the living room and dropping down on the couch. You leaned back and closed your eyes, letting out a long, slow breath.

You sat for a while until you heard the front door creak open and shut quietly. Your eyes flew open and you sat upright, wincing at the pain in your leg. Steve appeared in the doorway, a guilty look plastered on his face. The look alone made your heart melt almost made you forgive him. Almost. "Heyyyy, Honey. How was your day?" He asked tentatively. You narrowed your eyes at him and scowled. "How was my day?"
"Yeah..."
"You fucking shot me! That was my day!"
"Language." He muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."

You stood quickly, preparing to go off at him, but winced in pain and slipped your hand down to where the bullet had pierced your skin. Steve was by your side in an instant, helping you down to the couch. "I'm fine." You hissed at him through gritted teeth. He backed off almost immediately, a pained and worried expression plastered across his face. You felt a twang of pity, but it was you who had gotten shot here, not him.

You laid your head back, still in pain. Steve hesitated before sitting down on the couch next to you. You glanced over at him, boy was that a mistake. The second you looked at him with his big, sad, mopey puppy dog eyes, your heart melted. Sure, he shot you, but you've dealt with worse before. You sighed and motioned for him to lean into you, which he did, but very gently, not wanting to hurt you more. You touched his hair mindlessly and he deflated. All his worries about you hating him or... whatever, was going on inside his brain evaporated. "I'm sorry."
"I know. I know you are."

He nodded and sat up properly, his blueberry coloured eyes staring back into yours. Your heart melted and you offered a weak smile as he pressed a kiss to your hand. Though you were always fighting with each other- hell, it was your job- but you always got it to work. Even if you shot the other person.