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amandaoftherosemire · 3 years

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And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part One

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, OMC Joseph

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,121

Format: Short Series (Complete)

Warnings: Language, violence, references to captivity, implied abuse, angst.

Summary: You meet Bucky Barnes upon your mysterious and deadly escape from a power obsessed cult leader and his followers. Though you carry a secret in addition to the wariness of trauma, you can’t help your attraction to Bucky and his irascible demeanor. As for Bucky, he is drawn to the light he sees in you while he fears the things you’re hiding. Can you trust him with your secrets, and your life? Will you have a choice?

A/N: I haven’t posted anything in five months, so this may be a little on the odd side. I guess I’m working through some stuff?

This takes place in between Black Panther and Infinity War but is not consistent with MCU canon because I do what I want.

I used my old taglist, but only as a way to let y’all know I’m posting again. As always, feel free to ignore me. 😊 Heads up, future parts will get smutty.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part One

The first time Bucky saw you, you were literally on fire. Not just a little flame, either, but a full-on conflagration engulfing your entire body and crackling with cheerful menace. You’d turned to him, your eyes blazing white in a face painted in flame, and intoned with a voice that both popped and roared.

“Are you a god?”

Bucky’s eyes widened over the barrel of the gun he continued to keep trained on you despite his uncertainty that it could do any good should you decide to attack. Unsure how to prevent that decision, but wanting to try, he responded slowly. “I have no idea how to answer that.”

From the woods around him, Bucky heard a shout. He stood at the edge of a clearing in which you stood at the center, a scatter of charred bodies surrounding you. He went no closer, not willing to discover the hard way what your range was.

Sam was yelling as he walked closer, “Ray, when someone asks you if you’re a god, you say, ‘Yes!’”

Bucky was fascinated to see blue flames dance along your teeth as you smiled. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the way the flames whipped and whirled around you was unbelievably beautiful. It was also incredibly terrifying, but Bucky had needed to survive horrors best left undefined, so had long since learned to find the beauty in terror. In the next moment, Sam was stepping into view on the other side of the clearing, his own gun out and ready.

You turned, and with a happy, surprised sob, cried, “Sam!?” The next moment, the fire was flickering into nothing and you were just a lovely woman wearing nothing more than the ash from what had once been a long white dress.

Sam immediately holstered his gun and ran forward. “Y/N? We knew there were prisoners but--"

"Sam," you whispered brokenly as you stumbled on knees turned to jelly toward the concerned face of your friend and former colleague. You hadn't seen him since before your abduction, not long after that last doomed mission in Lagos. When he'd gone on the run with Captain America after the fallout over the Accords, you'd been nothing but happy to hear that he was alive and free. His face was one of the last you’d expected to see upon your escape, but the sight of Sam was a joyous relief.

"What are you doing here?" Your teeth chattered on the question, reaction and your own nakedness leaving you freezing and shaking. You didn't see where the silver emergency blanket came from, but Sam was nevertheless wrapping you in it and then in his own arms, to your everlasting gratitude. You'd never been anything more than friends, but he'd always been a true and loyal one, with a giving heart and wicked sense of humor.

You let him comfort you, the bone-shattering terror of your ordeal hitting you now that it was over. Now that someone you knew and trusted held you, the sick horror of what you'd endured sent tears flooding into your throat. The exhaustion of everything you'd done that day turned your muscles to water and so you didn't resist when Sam bent and slid his arm behind your knees to lift and carry you out of the clearing where you'd hurt so many. Instead, you buried your face in the crook where his neck met his shoulder and let the tears fall.

"Do me a favor and tell the others I've found Y/N Y/L/N and that I'm taking her back to the jet."

Bucky had lowered his weapon when the fire had flickered out with your recognition of Sam, but his eyes were still narrowed with a hint of suspicion. He was pretty sure you weren't a danger to Sam, at least, but that didn't mean he thought you harmless. He nodded slowly and lifted his microphone to his lips to report in even as he fell into step behind Sam as he headed back the way they'd came.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Sam said gently as he walked briskly back to the jet, "but do you know who is in charge of all of this?"

"Joseph." Your voice was a rasp with the tears that still shivered out of you, but all of the emotion had left your tone. "I don't think he survived."

Bucky glanced back at the clearing where they'd left a half dozen charred bodies and figured he knew how Joseph had met his end. When he turned back, you were peeking over Sam's shoulder at him, to his admitted consternation.

"I'm sorry about the dumb joke." The emotion was back, remorse in your eyes and tone as you looked at him. "I wanted to either make you laugh or scare you. I just didn't want to hurt anyone else." With that, you buried your face back in Sam's throat and started crying again.

Bucky tried to resist but his heart throbbed in sympathy, with understanding. He knew all about being forced to do things he didn't want to, both by cruelty and circumstance. He'd be the last to blame another for what they'd done to escape. He was concerned about your apparent propensity for bursting into flame, but he understood why you'd done so, since you could.

"He probably hasn't seen Ghostbusters, sweetheart." You lifted your head, a frown on your tear-streaked face to glare with narrow-eyed suspicion at Bucky, who was at a complete loss as to what the two of you were even talking about. Sam laughed when he saw your face and went on. "This is Bucky Barnes."

Your face cleared in understanding and Bucky wondered who you were that you recognized his name so quickly. "Welcome back, Sergeant," you said softly, with a shy smile that Bucky couldn't help but find charming even as he wondered who you were and how you seemed to know so much about him when he'd never heard your name before.

"At least now I know why we're here," Sam called back to Bucky, his voice cheerful as he tramped back towards the jet. "Nat's got a soft spot for this one; I'm willing to bet she had an idea we'd find Y/N."

Bucky murmured as he kept his eyes on yours from where they peeked over Sam's shoulder at him. "I didn't know we were looking for Y/N."

"I was part of the supply chain." You didn't like the wariness with which this man watched you, but you could hardly blame him, considering your introduction. You weren't normally so dramatic, but he couldn't know that. "Natasha would have noticed when I disappeared."

Sam shook his head with a smile and moved toward the edge of the forest, now in sight. "Why am I not surprised? Were you Nat's secret source?"

"Of course." You couldn't seem to stop looking at the man following you and Sam with such deadly grace and aloof readiness. You'd never seen anyone look so dangerously bored. You were damned if you didn't find it sexy as hell. "She asked me if I wanted to help and I said yes. The Accords are a human rights violation."

Bucky's eyes flicked to yours and warmed as the corner of his mouth lifted just a little. Your heart skipped in the first beat of attraction as Sam laughed out loud. The sound had you smiling even as he replied, "Like I said, not surprised." He turned his head to call over his shoulder, "Bucky, this is Y/N. She used to be support staff for the Avengers, was one of the researchers there. She helped me when Steve and I were looking for you."

Bucky bent his head in acknowledgement and smiled fully for the first time. Now that he had more of a handle on things, he could roll with them. And he'd ever been the sort willing to go the extra mile for a pretty woman. "Pleasure to meet you," he rumbled, and sounded like he meant it.

You thought about the sacrificial dress you'd been wearing when the fire had blown through and carried you out of the building, remembered the fear in the eyes of the henchmen sent to recapture you as they'd circled you like a pack of wild dogs. "Believe me. The pleasure's mine."

As Sam broke through the tree line where the quinjet that had brought them sat, the little bottle blonde assassin behind the controls, he turned to catch your eye. "So, Y/N, are you gonna tell me how you're a firestarter now?"

Natasha turned in her chair at the sound of his voice as they mounted the ramp into the jet. "Good, you found her," she said briskly with a gentle smile for you. You smiled weakly back as Sam set you down in one of the chairs. Natasha turned back around and continued, "Strap in. Steve and Wanda are almost back and I want to be in the air five seconds after that."

Bucky's eyes flicked to you in puzzlement at the sound of a soft hiss, like that of a snake, followed by a crackle or a popping noise. He may have looked elsewhere, but you'd made a soft shushing noise that drew his eye.

That shushing sound was followed by a tired sigh when Sam lifted a brow at you as he went about helping you rearrange the blanket so you could strap in but remain covered. "I wish I knew, Sam," you replied to that lifted brow and Bucky wished he knew why he didn't believe you.

You sat in the sand and watched the ocean crash against the shore, letting the sound soothe you. Feeling hot and itchy most days, thanks to your experience at the hands of the weird cult that had abducted you, this was often the only peace you could find. Most days saw you driving down from the house in the mountains to sit here and let the wind and the waves ease your mind and soothe the soul.

Today, however, you couldn’t seem to settle, upset by the conversation you’d had with Steve that morning. He’d wanted to apologize for overstaying their welcome, and assure you they’d be moving on soon.

After your rescue, they had come to stay with you in the house you’d inherited from your uncle. Tucked away in the heavily forested mountains of Oregon’s Coastal Range, it was big, secluded, and ideal for hiding five fugitives. You’d simply been happy to help, to give them a safe place to rest.

Now you were dealing with the fact that you didn’t want them to leave. You were chilled, sick at the thought of rattling around in the big house with nothing for company but your thoughts and the memory of what had happened in a house in upstate New York. You may have traveled three thousand miles to escape what had happened that night, but you couldn't escape what was now yours, whether you'd wanted it or not.

The soft hiss in your ear warned you that someone was approaching, but you were surprised when that someone flopped onto the cool sand next to you with a huff of irritation. "Huh. What a shitty day at the beach."

Damned if you knew why the surly bitch did it for you, but Bucky Barnes had charmed the fuck out of you by not being the least bit charming.

He wasn't mean, or rude, not by a long shot. He was unfailingly kind and polite and genuinely grateful for the shelter. You could see the good man underneath the pissiness, but Bucky was perpetually baffled and annoyed by most of the world around him. He never complained, really, but he regarded everything with a vaguely hostile skepticism. You could not understand why you thought him adorably sexy, the big, grumbly bastard.

"Good thing we’re not at the beach," you replied with a laughing sneer, your habitual attitude towards him as it prompted that ridiculous half-smile. You fucking adored that sly smirk. "We’re on a beach. We’re at the coast."

Bucky gave you his amused disgust face and made you melt. He picked up a handful of sand and held it up to let it run through his fingers in a rather accusatory fashion. You waved him away. "I would think a Broody McBrooderface like yourself would immediately get this."

You gestured at your surroundings, a lonely beach on a winter day in the Pacific Northwest. Clouds covered the sky and boiled over the sea, turning the waves into a stormy bluish gray that reflected in the eyes of the man that watched you with a reluctant fascination. The wind whipped around you both, tumbling his hair around his sculpted face and making you think of the covers of trashy romance novels from an earlier era. Moody and bleak, a cold winter day at the coast was made for Bucky Barnes.

A long, charged pause as he stared at your profile in disgusted astonishment.

"What?"

You couldn't stop the snort at the sound of pure stupified horror in his voice. You didn't know which part of what you said he found objectionable, but the insult of something clearly offended him. You didn't usually get this much reaction out of him, so you had to assume it was the new nickname.

"The beach," you replied snottily, "is where you go to relax in the sun or swim in the ocean." You tilted your head to fix him with an intense stare. "But we’re in the ring of fire, Bucky, and the ocean doesn’t play with the shore here. We’re at the coast, where the sea meets the land with force." You gestured out at the dark waves as they continued to crash and pound on the sand, curls of violent energy breaking upon the shore. "The beach is for fun; the coast is where you go to brood."

With that, you uncrossed your arms and placed your hands at your sides on the cold, dry sand behind you, bracing yourself as you leaned back, a smirk on your lips. You loved informing him of opinions as though you had just bested him with facts. The way his lips tightened when he was holding back laughter made your heart gallop.

Your breathing joined your heart in its race and sped as well when Bucky's eyebrow quirked in addition to the happiness that gathered in the corners of his lips. "Broody McBrooderface?" he asked, doubt collecting in his eyes and his furrowed brow. His voice was still rich with the disgust that had characterized his earlier question. The combination made you sputter with mirth before giving up and dissolving into a fit of laughter. You fell back onto the sand to wrap your hands around your middle and hold on as you cackled and snickered.

When you calmed enough to look at Bucky, he'd shifted so that he was leaning on one arm, turned towards you to grin delighted at your laughter. He was so pretty, white teeth against the dark brown of his beard, thick hair tumbled in the wind around him. You hoped you didn't look as starry eyed as you felt. Some days it was harder than others to not bodily tackle the man, but it seemed tacky, not to mention gross, to accost a houseguest.

His satisfied smirk turned into a look so hot with promise you could feel it in your toes. "So you don't wanna go skinny dipping?"

You laughed even as you cringed, your body tightening at the memory of underestimating the Pacific Ocean's wilder moods on visits to your uncle during your childhood. You shook your head as a chill at the thought ran down your spine. "I double-dog dare you to jump in that water." Bucky crooked another brow and then surprised you by leaping to his feet in a move shockingly graceful in its deadly arc. He was off in a run in the very next second towards the waves. You sat up to shout after him but he was faster than you'd thought possible. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you about the FROSTBITE!"

If he hesitated for a second, you didn't see it. Fully clothed in the athletic wear he’d donned to run down to the beach, he leapt over a terrifying curving beast of a wave into the now dark gray and, you expected, freezing cold water. You got to your feet to follow him to the edge where the sea lapped at the shore, a little wary to find out how the grumpy super-soldier would react to the Pacific's bite.

The two of you argued all the way back to your car.

"The least you could do is give me a ride back to the house." Bucky didn't seem like the water had really fazed him beyond pissing him off. He wasn't shivering, his teeth weren't chattering, but his jaw was set in severe irritation and his eyes blazed with banked anger. He was so fucking hot it made you crazy.

"My seats will get soaked." You couldn't help it; he was so sexy when he looked like he wanted to murder the world. You didn't know what was wrong with you, but the way he was striding up the beach toward the parking lot where you'd left your car made you shudder with lust. You had to fuck with him a little more, irritate him just that little bit extra. Maybe it was because of what had happened to you, but you needed to toss a little more gasoline on the fire. "I only brought a towel for sand, not for swimming. Besides, I told you it was cold as fuck; you jumped in anyway."

"I can't run home like this, I'm fucking freezing." The look Bucky shot you was so vicious, your heart kicked in response, but in desire rather than fear. He was perfectly bristly and annoyed now, his bright blue eyes blazing and his sculpted cheeks flushed with temper. You could eat him alive.

"You should have thought of that before you jumped in an ocean that is obviously not into your shit right now.” You deliberately kept your tone and demeanor casual as you stopped at the water fountain at the top of the beach to rinse the sand off your feet. “It's not like I would have thought less of you if you'd stopped when I warned you about how cold it was."

Mostly clean and aware based on experience that mostly clean was the best you were going to do, you dropped the rubber flip-flops in your hand and slipped your wet feet into them as Bucky glared at you.

“I would have thought less of me,” he replied with a sneer that made you want to lean in and bite his plump lower lip. “I took a dare. I'll finish a dare.”

Unable to help yourself, you burst into delighted laughter, throwing your head back in the pure enjoyment of him as you nearly stumbled down the sidewalk toward your car. Bubbling and cheerful, the warm chuckles poured out of you until Bucky was grinning at you, albeit reluctantly.

You were somewhat calm by the time you got to your car. You turned to Bucky with a sparkling smile, the laughter still trembling on your lips and Bucky’s heart kicked in response this time.

“You’re fun, Bucky.” You leaned against the driver’s side door and grinned at him over the roof of the car. “A little bonkers, but fun.” Shooting him a sassy wink, you opened the door and slid in. “Fine, get in the car."

“I know this is a big ask.”

Bucky was sweating, but he was determined not to let you see that. He was asking a lot of you and he knew it. If he didn’t believe it was important, for you as well as himself, he’d never have had the courage.

“I’m really more confused.” Bucky made himself stop watching the way your lips shaped the words when you spoke, your eyes wary and your brow furrowed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you want to go with them?”

He didn’t think you’d noticed how he watched you, fascinated by the curving whip of your movements, like flame had become part of you. He couldn’t help but focus on you, obsessed with both the magic and mystery of you. How could he stop himself when he could also hear your mutters under your breath? He was concerned yet intrigued by the admonishments to behave yourself.

He’d had numerous fantasies about misbehaving with you.

Bucky’s attention moved to the way your fingers fidgeted with the book in your lap. He couldn’t explain why, but he loved to watch you move. There was a grace and beauty there that he’d rarely seen and always treasured. He’d seen too much ugly and cruel to take anything as pretty or as kind as you were for granted. He'd made a study of you because it soothed him somehow to do so.

Your hands weren't fidgeting in agitation, concern, or fear; all of which he'd seen and memorized. Through trial and error he'd learned how to distract you from whatever had you picking at your cuticles in anxiety and, sometimes, something that looked perilously close to panic, but he could see that wasn't necessary now. You were fidgeting absently, the same way you had been for the entire conversation, not in response to his request.

Bucky was still a little struck by his daring in asking if he could stay when the others moved on. He hadn't known if he'd have the nerve when he walked to the little library where you often sat in the window seat so you could read with your face to the mountain air coming through the open window. But when you'd looked up with a smile when he'd poked his head in and asked for a minute, he'd known even if you said no, he could trust you to be gentle.

"I don’t want to fight anymore."

By the way your eyebrows flew up and your lips parted before you paused, Bucky could see that you were as surprised by the blunt honesty of his answer as he was. But he was asking a lot of you and he knew it. Harboring an international fugitive was only the least of it. You knew his reputation, and that it was based on fact, yet you'd welcomed him into your home. He had to be honest with you if he was going to ask anything more than that already unimaginable kindness.

He smiled at you, but he couldn't stop the sadness, the exhaustion of a century's worth of years from quivering around his mouth. Your eyes, scanning his face under those expressive eyebrows, softened and your lips twisted with wry sympathy. "Of course you don't. Why would you?"

Bucky relaxed back into the plush little sofa where he'd taken the seat you'd offered when he started this conversation. He now knew it was going to be reasonably painless. Something about you almost always put him at ease within only a few minutes in your company. Maybe it was the way you listened to him, both the things he said, and the things he could only speak around.

Somehow he always ended up saying more than he'd intended.

"I didn’t volunteer, you know." You tilted your head in question, so he continued, not sure where the words were coming from. "Not like Steve, who wanted in so bad he kept trying to get past the physical. I was drafted." Bucky laughed a little and lifted his hands to rub them over his face, dragging them through his hair before threading his fingers together behind his head. "I just wanted to settle down to a normal life and try to keep my best friend from dying from one of the thousand things trying to kill him. Instead…" As he trailed off he shrugged and noticed your eyes drop to his chest in what he would swear was appreciation.

The corner of Bucky's mouth was lifting in a crooked half-smile when your eyes flicked to his. Bright and intense, he felt pinned by your gaze as the still forming grin fell from his face. "Instead you got to be a prisoner of war for sixty-odd years," you said, your voice full of the wry sympathy that still lived in the slight curve to your lips, "only to discover that things are still trying to kill your best friend?" In the next instant, that searing stare was gentle with understanding, your eyes warm with concern. "You're a little fucking tired?"

Bucky huffed out another of those little laughs, the only kind he really had these days. A little fucking tired was an understatement if he'd ever heard one, but the fact that you saw that so easily explained why he was even asking this of you. "You get it," he said, that half-smile coming back in a sweeter form. "That's why I'd like to stay here, actually." Your lips had started to curve in response to the little half-laugh, even that much heard only occasionally, when the warmth in his face sparked an answer in yours, charming you with the little glimpse of sweetness under all the salt.

Bucky's breath caught a little at the look on your face, the way the movement of your hands had smoothed as you absently toyed with the hardback still in your lap. He could see you relax by degree in his presence and wondered if you were as soothed by his company as he was by yours. "I don't want you to think you have to say yes," he heard coming out of his mouth, more honesty he couldn't help, but he didn't want you to feel pressured. "I'd rather stay here in the States, but I'm not homeless if it doesn't work for you. If it's a no, I promise, no hard feelings. I have another option lined up. I understand if you don't want to stay alone with a man you barely know."

He was starting to worry based on the soft, gentle look that remained on your face. You normally smirked and teased him, poking at his gruff exterior with a playfulness that had charmed him completely. You may not have known it, but you had him firmly wrapped around your fingers. This tenderness made him afraid you were about to let him down easy. He braced himself for rejection.

"Alright," you murmured thoughtfully, your eyes kind if shrewd as they rested on his face. He wondered what you saw when you looked at him, how much you saw beneath the surface. "If you wanna stay, we'll have to have a few ground rules, a couple of understandings."

Bucky's face lit up in surprised delight as his heart began to pound. He hadn't really expected you to say yes, and so hadn't prepared for the rush of excitement and satisfaction that ran through him at the prospect of getting to know you without feeling like he was being watched by his friends. His heart speeding a little, a hot shudder of anticipation working through him at the prospect, he shot you a bright and reckless grin. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."

Something dark and hungry moved in a flash over your face. Bucky's heart raced in answer despite his uncertainty that he'd even seen the lightning fast emotion. He wanted to be your friend first, but he couldn't deny he'd found inside himself a well of desire for you so deep he'd yet to find the bottom. He could only hope you felt some fraction of that for him.

"First and most important understanding," as you spoke your eyes flattened and your mouth tightened, your gaze on his face reminding him of the first time he'd seen you, "I am not afraid of you." The words were a warning, not a threat, but the hair on the back of Bucky's neck stood up. "If you're going to live here for the foreseeable," you continued, your face softening again into something lonely and sad, "I need to be clear on this point. I have no reason, whatsoever, to be afraid for my own safety. Not anymore."

The hollow tone to your voice was a chilling counterpoint to the fingers wrapped in white-knuckled terror around your book. Bucky could see you were trying to tell him that you were still dangerous, despite how deceptively harmless you looked when not bathed in flame.

"The fire?" Bucky didn't know he still had that much tenderness inside him for anyone, but he could hear the gentle sympathy in the two words clearly. By the tentative smile teasing the corners of your mouth, you could hear it, too.

"I would tell you if I thought you weren't safe." You looked sick with worry that he'd reject you and Bucky could see that he was right; the two of you needed each other. You went on in a little rush, your eyes dipping to your hands still clutching the book in your lap. You frowned as you spoke and he watched you deliberately uncurl your fingers as though you were carefully calming yourself. "I don't believe you're in any danger here. I will absolutely tell you if that changes."

Bucky always preferred when people were matter of fact in their questions about him and his issues. He figured he should start there and see how you responded. "Can you control it?" he asked, his voice unconcerned, his posture unchanging from his easy sprawl against the corner of the couch.

Apparently, you also liked plain speaking as you smiled a little more, this time with a wry exasperation that piqued his interest. "Some. More persuade."

Bucky's heart throbbed as he asked the question he knew you'd least like to answer. He wished he didn't feel like he had to, but he needed to know how not to incite the blaze. His voice soft as a whisper, as tender as a touch, "What set it off that night?"

The look on your face sent a chill down Bucky's spine, your eyes empty and cold and nothing like the warmth he'd come to expect and adore. Your voice as hollow as he'd ever heard it, you answered with just enough information to somewhat explain. "Joseph was going to hurt me."

Upon your recovery from the forest surrounding the house in upstate New York where you'd been held against your will, it had become clear that you'd been snatched up by one of the occult offshoots that often split from HYDRA. As HYDRA was itself founded as an occult offshoot of the Nazi war machine, it wasn't really a surprise that it so often shed more of the same. The one that had taken you, however, had apparently been particularly weird and cultish, the leader, Joseph, convinced of his own superiority and seeking the power he believed to be his due. You hadn't spoken much of what had happened to you while held captive by them, by him, but Bucky could recognize pain and trauma when they were right in front of him.

"Since I won't be hurting you," he said gently, the words both reassurance and promise, "it shouldn't be a problem." When your eyes, blurred with memory, focused back in on his face, Bucky's lips curved slightly, the smile sweeter than any he'd given you yet.

Your lips curved in response as a soft sigh that didn't come from you whispered at the edge of Bucky's hearing. His ears perked even as he kept his eyes on yours, his expression betraying nothing but the warm appreciation he always had for you. The next moment, however, his attention was caught and held by the grin you flashed, sparkling and friendly. "That's what I was thinking," you chirped and looked happier than he'd ever seen you.

The sight had his body tightening in lust even as his heart squeezed. Bucky had always been a romantic with a love of making a pretty girl smile. Being able to make you smile like this made him feel like he was getting another piece of himself back. Still, he wanted you to know that you could trust him with more than just your physical safety.

"Do you wanna tell me about it?" he offered, his voice gentle again.

"Maybe," you said, and Bucky cursed himself when your smile dimmed. You shrugged and looked back down at your hands where they'd tried to tense around the book. "I might need to. You gonna tell me about you?"

"Some." He answered quickly, without hesitation, though he grinned sheepishly when your eyes lifted to his in suspicion. "Probably."

When your eyes remained narrowed on his even as the corners of your mouth twitched with suppressed humor, Bucky narrowed his eyes back at you. To his surprised delight, that sparkling smile came back. You stretched the denim clad legs you'd had curled under you out and relaxed into the pillow at your back.

"Then rule number one," you said cheerily, an interesting heat in your eyes, "is that you continue to be your usual hostile self. It revs my engine." The cheer on your face took on a darker edge, your smile more like a dare. Bucky's eyes narrowed once again, but this time his gaze glittered with desire, with the urge to take that dare.

"Does it?"

You bit your lower lip as his voice rumbled through the air and into you. Bucky could swear he saw goosebumps erupt over the skin of your arms when he spoke, the desire riding him clear in that quiet question.

You laughed, a little breathless, and grinned at him, a cheeky taunt all over you. He was dazzled by the flash of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, the whipping movements of your hands as you gestured while you spoke. "Rule number two is that you make yourself at home." You pointed a mock stern finger at him and made him smile. "Don't be a houseguest or stand on ceremony. I want you to be genuinely comfortable. If you have to stay under house arrest for now, you should be able to do so as painlessly as possible."

There you went being sweet and kind in addition to being sexy and adorable. Bucky didn't know if he could take it. He was beginning to think he was in over his head but he couldn't find a thing not to like about it.

"Steve keeps me in line." Bucky smirked as he teased. "Once he's gone I'll make you regret that."

You looked delighted with him and Bucky could have wept with gratitude. Spending time with you was helping him remember parts of himself he'd thought long dead, like the boyish flirt he'd once been, but he was equally grateful that he seemed to be good for you, too.

"Okay," you purred as you smirked back at him, "in case Steve has kept you in line in other ways, rule three is you clean up after yourself. I will be very annoyed if you start leaving dirty dishes or clothes around once he's gone." One eyebrow lifted in mock warning and Bucky could have cuddled you.

"He’s the slob, actually." Bucky huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "You're making this too easy, doll."

He couldn't be sure, but for a moment you looked shy and a little vulnerable. Bucky's heart squeezed again as he quivered with the conflicting desires to both ravage and protect. When you glanced at him from under bashful lashes, he felt torn between.

"Am I?" The murmur of your voice was rich with something dark and exciting, something that lit up his ear and made his stomach tighten.

Bucky's voice was husky on his reply as he offered both clarification and escape route. He wanted everything on the table before the negotiations came to a close. "Any other rules?" His face spread in a hot, almost feral grin, one that left no doubts as to what rules he was asking about. "Any other lines you don’t want crossed?"

The corner of your mouth lifted in a grin equally hungry, equally reckless. "Nothing comes to mind." Your eyes reminded him of sultry whispers, heated words. "I think we can play it by ear from there."

Bucky felt his heart race in exhilaration and wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He couldn't wait to find out. "I’m happy to dance to your tune."

Part Two here >>

Taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #and hell is just a sauna #pantswrites #short series

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cajunquandary · 4 years

Text

The One with Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Summary: After a difficult hunt, you and the Winchester brothers want nothing more than to rest. As fate would have it, things don’t go so smoothly.

Warnings: Natural disaster, a little flangsty.

WC: 2300

A/N: This was written for @smol-and-grumpy “NAT’S SUPERFRIENDS TITLE CHALLENEGE.” My title was “The One with Red Sky at Morning.” I actually wrote several versions of this but settled on this one. A very similar situation happened to me when I was very young, out hunting with my father deep in the woods of South Georgia. All we had was a four-wheeler and a lot of quick prayers. To this day I don’t know how we made it out alive. Enjoy my first writing back from a three-year hiatus! This might get rough. Suggestions welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry, I was feeling giffy~

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring past a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead, a black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

This must be it, the end.

You stumble sleepily out of the slight motel bathroom and over to the coffee maker. Without so much as peeking, you masterfully load the grounds and water and press the magic button. Oh, how you love that button. Scratchy bedsheets stir behind you, but you pay no attention. A shadow of a smirk creeps across your face. The holy bean water is ready. You take the much-too-small Styrofoam cup with you to sit at the table by the window. Lifting the chalice of your soul to your lips, you inhale as if you’d been starved of oxygen all night. Your eyes gradually open, adjusting easily to the low light of the room. The sweet scent helps to knock the cobwebs from your mind, the warmth radiating from your palms to the depths of your bones.

What a week it’d been. But right now, you don’t want to think of the vamp nest or their victims. Right now, you revel in the tranquility. In the bed near the door, Sam is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, no doubt about to share some coffee with you at the table. On the couch, Dean’s limbs are sprawled in awkward positions, but he still snores gently.

Finally, a smile graces your lips as you watch Dean. He’s so peaceful. There’re no lines on his forehead or forlorn frown below his freckle dusted cheeks. You almost wish he could stay like that forever—at peace. You also wonder what it might be like to touch him, hold him. After the hunt and almost losing him, being more than a few inches away from the man actually hurts. You couldn’t imagine never again seeing those deep, loving eyes, or the way he sings in the car, or dances when he thinks no one is around.

Catching you just before you jump off the deep end into thoughts and memories of Dean, Sam finds his seat next to you. Trying to brush the obvious daydreaming off as nothing, you take a gulp of coffee, only to grimace in pain as it burns all the way down, leaving your upper lip and tongue tingling.

Sam chuckles. “You know it’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” And so is something else in the room, you can’t help but to think to yourself.

You set the rude drink upon the table and stand to open the curtains. With a thrust, the stubborn things release and reveal the world outside.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. You stare for a moment just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You rub them. You stare a moment more, then rub them again. Red skies morning, sailors take warning.

You look over to Sam, your body rigid.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Sam, check the weather. Now.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone is the first to sound the alarm, shortly followed by yours and Sam’s.

“It’s a weather alert—severe storms coming,” Sam stood from the table to look outside as well.

Dean groans from the space behind you, “Well then let’s get a move on.”

You don’t even bother getting dressed, instead throwing one of Dean’s old flannels over your thin t-shirt and leggings. Just like your days in EMS, your boots and pack stand ready next to your bed.

Within a minute, everyone slides into the impala, coffee forgotten. As Dean pulls onto the highway, you and Sam map out the fastest way to get home to the bunker with the least amount of bad weather to drive through, looking for a place to stop for food if possible.

Around two hours in, the drive is going decently well, with only a few patches of hail and heavy rain. You begin to doze off to the comforting lull of the Impala and the Allman Brothers.

Your body betrayed you as it twitched violently. Still on edge after the hunt, you jump from the action, accidentally hitting Dean in the shoulder.

“You good?” He glances quickly in your direction, adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Heart beat loud in your ears, you lean back and return a quiet “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

No rest for the wicked or the hunters, you suppose.

Dean hums along to the music. You are powerless watching the vibration of his neck, wondering what it might be like if your lips were to touch the spot where his pulse rippled the skin. You look down at your phone in an attempt to distract yourself.

Pulling up the weather app, you report the developing spot just up ahead. The brothers take note, then you lean against the window and watch the blur of pine forests and rolling fields. Even overcast, the landscape is breathtaking. You reminisce on your days in the back of the “bus,” what it was like when the tone would drop and in seconds you’d be flying down the road, lights and sirens, mentally preparing for the unknowns waiting for you on the scene. After ten years, there wasn’t much you hadn’t seen. This knowledge and wisdom helped but still couldn’t prepare you when a changeling become your patient.

You catch yourself, not wanting to remember the details of the attack, the ambulance rollover, or the death of your partner. You don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if the Winchester boys hadn’t shone up when they did, or if you’d stayed in that town after the bodies were found.

Wiping an unwelcome tear from the corner of your eye, you refocus on the trees, enjoying their dances under the influence of wind lines.

Until one fell, bending until it snapped, twisting off halfway. Then another, and another.

“Uh, guys?” When had it gotten so dark? You check your phone for the time again. Almost three in the afternoon.

You don’t need to look behind you to know what it is. You don’t get the chance to tell Dean to floor it—he already is. You grip the seat tightly as the car lurches forward, shaking under the speed and the wind force.

It’s as if an invisible giant is stepping down on the forest on both sides of the highway. Oncoming traffic has ceased, some people have already bailed from their cars, seeking scant shelter in the ditches. Leaves and branches now swirl through the sky, littering the road ahead. Dean takes the next exit, not slowing down a bit.

You are so close to the bunker now, but the echoes of the angry titan behind you threaten to devour the Impala before you even have a chance for safety. You hazard a glance behind you.

No more than a mile behind the racing car, the tornado swallows the whole world, preceded by the biggest cloud of debris you’ve ever seen.

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring after a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead and the rotating black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

You are covered in glass from the back window, the wind sucking the breath from your lungs. Sam reaches over and pulls you into his lap, holding as tightly as your eyes are shut. Dean masterfully swerves in an out, dodging unknown obstacles and navigating winding roads.

You recognize these turns. The bunker!

Castiel is already perched at the edge of the garage when you open your eyes. Still at full speed, Dean swerves the car inside, causing it to slide sideways and leave thick rubber tracks. Castiel struggles against the wind and grabs Dean as he bails from Baby.

“I can’t close it! We have to take cover, now,” Cas yells over the train whistle screams of the tempest.

Not missing a beat, Sam grabs you and doesn’t even pause to set you down. The alarms in the bunker sound off, competing with the storm.

You all finally tumble through the door and slam it locked behind you. You grunt as your ears pop from the pressure change and rub your jaw.

Heavily breathing from the ordeal, the four of you trade nodding glances, indicating that everyone is okay.

You are the first to break the silence, shaking bits of glass from your shirts. “I need a drink.”

Castiel and Sam follow you down the steps, but stop to sit in the war room. Dean trails on your heels, also eager for a drink. You grab the bottle but keep walking, ready to be in your own bed already.

Dean protests. “Hey, you gonna share?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to follow me.”

Once in your room, you take a long draught from the already open bottle of whiskey, then turn and hand it to Dean.

“Close your eyes, Winchester.”

Dean does as told, bottle already suspended at his lips.

You pause for a moment to admire those lips and the way they purse when he swallows. It catches your breath but you turn away, stripping the glass-ridden clothes into a pile on the floor. You curse under your breath as you realize the clothes that other than the ones still in the car, the rest were in the laundry room, several wings down.

You grab a pillow to shield yourself just in time as Dean opens his eyes to see what the matter is. He apologizes quickly and turns away. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes.”

Without hesitation, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and extends it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You are so glad that his eyes are still averted so he can’t see your red face, the blush stretching through your whole body. You quickly slip inside the shirt and bottom it, thankful that it reaches nearly to your knees. You pause at the collar, lifting it to your nose and nearly fall as the heady scent of him fills your senses. Dean, standing now, catches you just in time, closer to you than ever before. His hands rest gently at your sides, and he chuckles sweetly as he leans in to kiss your hair. The whiskey still warming your bones, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers and burying your face into his bare chest. He pulls you in tighter, squeezing.

The stress of almost losing him on the hunt to that fang and of nearly becoming flying sky trash slowly falls away within the shelter of his embrace. He leans onto the bed and back farther, taking you with him until you’re both under the blankets completely intertwined.

The dim light provided by a small lamp in the corner casts just enough shadow that you can count the freckles dusted on Dean’s cheeks and get lost in the hazel green folds of his eyes. Could this really be happening? Is the hunter you’d be pining for silently for over a year really holding you this closely—in your own bed?

Your breath mixes with his when he leans in even closer and brushes your lips with his. You close your eyes and relish in the warmth and comfort and safety of his arms, the softness and taste of his lips, stubble grazing your chin.

You can still perceive faint sounds of the raging storm outside, but you have no more fear. You pull away slightly to enjoy the sweet smile on Dean’s face until a passing shadow crosses it.

An elated “finally” can be heard near the doorway. Sam winks and closes the door, retreating footsteps resonating down the hall.

A new storm blooms in your core as you surrender yourself to the ease of being so close to Dean. Together, you trade secrets and promises in the intimate moments before slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his voice.

Red skies morning, sailors take warning. Red skies night, sailors delight.

With the red flashes of the bunker floodlights filling the air, you did certainly delight, safe at last. Any wreckage could wait until morning.

TAG LIST:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby

*To be added or removed, shoot me a message

#Supernatural #chris writes #writing challenge #dean x reader #winchester #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #bunker #Baby #storm #the one with red sky at morning

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stuckylibrary · 3 years

Text

Group Ask 182

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

AO3 Search Tutorial

Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

Anon 1 said:

Hi there! I’m looking for a fic where steve and bucky watch 101 Dalmatians. I’m really sorry, is the only thing I can remember and I know that’s not helpful at all.

peppermenttea said:

Hiya! So you guys recommended a fic and I wanted to read it but never did. All I remember is that it’s almost an AU. Steve has to help the Winter Soldier and goes on this journey to I think a castle? Or fortress? To save him. That’s all I know.

Anon 2 said:

Hello! I think tumblr is eating my messages but I'm looking for a fic where its modern bucky and cap Steve. They live in the same apartment building and i think bucky's a lot younger. bucky lives above Steve i think so he tries sneaking through steves window but Steve catches him. The end was something like Bucky going to one of Steve's speeches or something and Steve sees him and just smiles?

Anon 3 said:

Hello! I'm looking for a fic that for the life of me I cannot seem to find. Its modern bucky and cap steve, i think bucky has a food truck and steve hangs out with him sometimes but hes super angry because hes just woken up from the ice, and the alien invasion takes place while bucky is in his truck and I think he ends up losing his arm because of an alien attacking him

dreamdictator said:

Hi, first I want to say thank you for all of the hard work you all put day in and day out. Having said that, I need help finding a fic I read a few years ago on ao3. Steve had found Bucky and brought him into SHIELD. Bucky was nonverbal and was using crayons and paper to communicate but when they took those away he cut himself and drew on the walls with his own blood. It wasn't until Clint came in and taught him sign language that they made progress. Please help :(

Anon 4 said:

i was hoping you guys could help me find a fic i read ages ago... all i remember is that it's i think only one chapter and steve and bucky kiss after steve has been crying and they were like in bed cuddling and then i think they have sex idk i can't remember any more specifics :(

Anon 5 said:

Hi! Do you know the shrunkyclunks au where Bucky lives like out in the woods/somewhere relatively remote (I think he’s house sitting) and Steve accidentally stumbles onto (passes out in) buckys yard (I think after a rescue mission from the raft??) and then he recovers and hides out at Bicky’s place until they discover a hydra base nearby. Steve spends his time listening to the police radio. Thanks in advance!!!

Anon 6 said:

I'm looking for a fic where bucky finds steve unconscious and takes him to his house where he lives with his parents. Its kind of a farm in a way. Steve doesn't reveal his identity, and I think they call him Roger, maybe Grant. Then Bucky finds out his identity and there's smut anf shit. Thanks x.

veronicafercard said:

Hi, I'm going crazy trying to find this fic I read a long time ago, but all I can remember is that Steve's favorite painting was called something like "Orleans/Ornelas". It was a vase red flowers, I think it was a Van Gogh and he couldn't see red before the serum so he got really emotional when he finally saw it after. I think it took place mostly during the War. Maybe he compared the red from the painting with bucky's lips, idk, could you guys help me find it?

Anon 7 said:

Hi! I need some help finding a fic please! It’s after TWS, Bucky wants to wipe out all the hydra bases that have the chairs. At one point he is followed down an alley by a female hydra agent who tries to use the trigger words. After that he wears headphones when he takes down a hydra base to avoid trigger words, locks the hydra people in a closet and carves “assholes” on the door. At one point he travels by ship to avoid detection.

Anon 8 said:

Help! I read this fic awhile ago (I think it might have been recommended by you guys) but Steve and Bucky have to pretend to be married to infiltrate this neighborhood? There's a guy couple next door to them that I think end up being the bad guys and a nosey neighbor lady who flirts with Steve and makes Bucky mad. There's flannel too?? H e l p

Anon 9 said:

I seem to have lost a fic, so I call upon you; the Stucky Gods, to help me. It was about going to the pictures, and had Steve/Bucky, Nat/Brock, and Nat/Clint. Do you think you could bless me by finding this?

Anon 10 said:

Hi! I'm looking for a christmas story, it was a series that was posted here on tumblr during december last year. I caught the first couple of chapters, but then I had to take a break and I lost the story. I was something about Bucky meeting Steve again, they knew each other as kids? And they started doing christmasy stuff together, I think they bought a christmas tree and Bucky went skating?

Anon 11 said:

Hi I have only just remembered sending in an ask and I can’t remember how I worded it so I’m struggling to find if you answered or not. I thought I had a fic bookmarked but apparently not, but now I’m worried it’s been deleted! It’s the one where Steve has to help Bucky masturbate, like just starts off with him sitting in the room with him and then does it himself too and eventually they’re both staring at each other while they’re doing it I think?

robinwritesshitposts said:

I’m looking for a fic I read a while ago-Steve was homeless and had adopted Peter? And then tony and Natasha ran a cafe that Steve painted for money? And I’m pretty sure it was endgame stucky but I can find it anywhere ;-;

#group asks

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bbygrgu · 4 years

Text

Eternal Moonlight

a/n: okay wow. it took a little over two months to finish this and I am thrilled. I want to thank @jalapenobarnes and @rogueobservation for basically being betas, for reassuring me in my choices. I also want to thank @romanticgumchewer for showing interest in this fic, for inspiring me to keep going with this fic. I do want to state that this heavily inspired by Rick Riordian’s take on Artemis and the Hunters of Artemis. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! please enjoy!

divider by @whimsicalrogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (F)reader

word count: 9.4k

warnings: angst (lots), blood, violence, fight scenes, weapons, brief mention of r*pe (Artemis’s back story), I believe a couple of swear words.

There were whispers once, long ago, that one must be chosen. Some cried, begging in desperation, screaming at the night sky in hopes to be heard, cursing the Moon, to be taken into Her world. A chance to prove their undying loyalty to Her and Her alone. To swear off the material world and to join the hunt, to join the magical bits.

It would be long before they realized that She must choose who is deemed worthy, who she knows will not break the Oath of a Hunter, who will not turn her back to the Moon and the Hunt.

She finds the worthy ones when they least expect it. When they show strength in their vulnerable states, not letting their weakest moments define them but growing from them, pushing themselves, utilizing the moment to make themselves strongers.

She asks them to join the Hunt, to not turn their back on the moon and on her sisters.

Summer nights, cool breeze, fractions of moonlight hitting warm skin, the smell of the forest. A laugh echoing through the ever growing ocean of green, trees piercing the sky at different heights and even angles.

With much time passing, a hunter learned how to speed past the obstacles of branches and tall trees without her bow and quiver getting caught, streaks of silver blurring with the dark greens and browns; a shooting star in the dark universe that is the forest. Even when distracted by the laughter and jokes from her companion.

Recruits had taken notice of the faint sound of laughter through the night, starting at the point of day where the moon becomes visible, no longer hiding behind clear, bright skies and the sun’s luminous rays raining over every surface on the material world.

Some who were patrolling, assuring that the perimeter was not breached, would catch faint echoes of laughter, mixed with tree branches cracking under pressure and the light, lingering smell of blood just barely blending in with the distinct scent of nature.

It was a month in of the same reports of these findings when Sam Wilson was sent to do a sweep over the familiar parts of the woods, a gruesome sight catching his eye and willing him down.

A clearing with trees encircling it. Trees, full grown and adult, cracked in half. Some just barely held together, only by splinters. The ground dug up, as if a large creature was thrown down with such a force and slid, taking all the dirt with it right before hitting the trees. Foot prints, hunter boots, standing meters away from the crash landing against the unfortunate trees.

Blood splattered against the bark but this blood was different. Not the typical dark red of a human or regular animal. No, this blood was nearly purple and it was fresh.

Clumps of dark fur lazily hung from the knocked over trees and low branches. It was one hell of a fight.

Bucky, Steve, Tony, and Natasha were taking in the scene as Sam pointed out all his observations. Bucky quietly making his own, waiting for Sam to conclude, all meanwhile Natasha walked around, looking in awe as she’d never seen such a sight.

“Did you notice markings against the tree?” Bucky asks once Sam becomes quiet.

Bucky takes a few steps before squatting in front of the forest’s fallen soldier. Pink fingertips brush against the missing patches, pitch black foles against the armor of bark.

“These aren’t bullet holes, but something had to pierce through the bark.” Bucky looks back at them, each carrying a confused expression.

No one said a word. There was nothing to say.

Natasha stepped up next, moving to stand beside Bucky, eyes squinted as they focused on the pierces. Her gaze moved to clumps of fur just lying around for a brief moment. Her attention switching between the footprints left and the markings littered the tree. It wasn’t claw marks; Nat was positive a creature wouldn’t dig its claws into a tree when trying to flee, to save itself.

She knows she wouldn’t. She’d flee if it meant life for death. A living creature can only handle so much suffering.

Nat moved away from Bucky and towards the base of the trunk, tree roots weaving in and out of the ground.

Squatting down, one elbow on one knee, a clump of dark fur limply hanging over a pen that Nat held by the end.

“What do you boys know about bows and arrows?”

“You’ve said that the laughter happens at night, when the moon has made Herself visible?” Thor asked, carefully making his way to the footprints that stood a distance away, facing East with the toes angled out.

A flash of the events from the previous night passed through his thoughts and a smug, knowing smile settled on Thor’s face. He wasn’t surprised, but he figured they would be.

“This was no regular Midgardian creature. It was a creature from a different realm,” Thor starts slowly, playfully positioning his arms to mimic the stance of a hunter with a bow and arrow.

Peering over his shoulder, the smile never leaving his face, he noticed a confused look upon Steve’s face.

“What the hell is an Asgardian creature doing here?”

“I thought you were a better man than to use such words, Steven,” Thor teased, “but I did not say it was of Asgard,” Thor chuckled, relaxing. His gaze turned towards the East, the Sun on the West and he could very well make out the Moon slowly pushing through the bright blue .

“Artemis and her Hunters have been here.”

“Artemis… like the… the Goddess of the Moon? The Greek Goddess?” Sam stutters, a bewildered look on his face.

Thor’s smile never leaves his face, only his brow arching in amusement, in confirmation.

Both Bucky and Steve’s heads tilt to the side, waiting for someone to explain who this ‘Artemis’ was, who her ‘Hunters’ were, and how many damn Gods and Goddesses were really out there?

“Artemis is of your realm,” Thor starts, mostly directing it towards Bucky and Steve before continuing, “Goddess of the Moon, of the Wilderness and its creatures, and as I, the Goddess of Fertility.” A brief pause.

“Oh, so now you’re a Goddess, too,” Tony mutters to himself. Thor just winks at him, facing all of them and points to the holes marking up the fallen tree.

“I cannot say I know Artemis personally, I’ve only been on Midga- sorry, Earth, for so long. But her legend is known even on Asgard. She and her sisters use bows made of the strongest and purest material only found in her world, dipped in a full moon’s beam; arrows coated in moonlight as well, but forged from the waters of an island that can be only found by those who know it’s true name.”

Met with the same looks of confusion, except for Sam’s face pulling into a mix of revelation with a hint of smug, Thor sighed. He looked up at the Moon, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Wait,” Bucky speaks up. His eyes are squinted, brows furrowed, thoughtful frown on his lips. No other words leave him, his eyes speaking for him. He’s trying to piece all this new information together.

“How do you know about Greek Mythology?” Natasha asked, her own expression one of curiosity and warmth.

“Another religion to search up later, Cap,” Tony mutters to Steve, eyes never leaving Thor.

Thor waves off Natasha. It doesn’t matter how he knows, just that he does.

“She’s been hunting, that’s for sure,” Bucky quips. He nods towards the clumps of dry-blood fur.

Two weeks later and more reports, sightings of a large creature running through the woods. Howls that sounded nothing like the typical wolf. Its speed causes it to appear as a black blur, dodging trees. Tracks matching the same ones from the wreck that Sam found.

This time, they were prepared.

Steve and Bucky running after it, their speed almost a match to the creature’s. Sam flying over, keeping a close eye, directing the two super soldiers in the right path. Thor stands in the same clearing that they stood in when they came to the conclusion that the creature was indeed not of this realm.

Natasha positioned herself in a tree, squatting down, hand on the trunk. She listens closely, looking towards the Moon. The energy in the forest was different compared to the energy the day they saw the sight of a tough battle.

No longer were the leaves of the trees carefree, branches swaying with the wind. There came a small breeze, just barely brushing by, mixed with the smell of salt and moss. Warm and pink, orange skies, the Moon ivory white. Wisps of clouds dissolving into the canvas of the universe.

Growls were carried with the breeze only moments later.

Natasha stood at her full height, hand against the trunk. Sam was right over the clearing, Steve and Bucky calling out for the group, a warning shouted into the open air.

Thor looks back at Nat, feet shoulder width apart, fists clenched with Stormbreaker in one arm. Their bodies tense, ready to face the creature, to see what caused such a scene only weeks ago. Except, they didn’t see the creature at first.

Steve and Bucky stumbled out, running towards where Thor stood. They skid to the stop, spinning to face the fence of trees they had just surfaced from. Nat stared at them in bewilderment, lips parted. Her eyes scanned over the front line, then up at Sam, who was just above Thor, Sam and Steve. She moved her gaze back to the trees when the ground started to rumble.

“What-”

The giant black and red mass flew from the ocean of the trees, landing between Natasha and the rest. It didn’t face Nat, it’s eyes and growl directed towards Thor, Bucky and Steve. It moved back and forth, carefully taking in the three new enemies. Mouth in a snarl, saliva dripping from the gaps between its teeth.

They’d never seen a creature like this before. Red glowing eyes, teeth so sharp, its fur such a dark shade of brown and grey that it looked almost black, fire beneath its paws, under every step. Like a creature straight from hell.

Before anyone made a move, the sound of an object cutting through the air caused everyone to freeze.

A silver arrow stuck out from the tree, right next to Natasha’s hand. A warning.

The creature’s eyes no longer focus on the three men in front of it, never noticing the fourth just above it. Its eyes focus on the trees for a moment, before a snarl rips through its throat, sending a vibration and tinge of uneasiness through all of them.

The creature’s front paw moved, all three men quickly pushing out the way just before it growled and bounded towards the trees. They all looked back, left in complete awe. The only one with a smile on their face, excitement pulsing through his blood was Thor.

Weaved through the darkness and the trees at the frontline were glowing silver dots and crescent moons with the points facing the heavens. The closest one brighter than the rest, bigger than the rest.

Before their eyes, the creature grew twice its size. Heavier, more dangerous, more fire. Faint orange glow casted around the creature’s figure. Ears pulled back and just as it started to move forward, all but one of the silver dots disappeared, the brightest crescent still there, only growing bigger as She stepped out.

A loose hood over Her head, a white scarf covering her mouth and nose. Her bow drawn back, focused on the creature. Her cold, striking-silver eyes taking in the other figures before returning back to the creature.

Her beauty distracted the Avengers easily. They never noticed the other figures positioned on tree branches, some standing and others kneeling, with their bows drawn and pointed at them.

They all wore loose hoods, scarfs the same shade of white as the hoods covered their mouths and noses, only their concentrated eyes surrounded by glowing white freckles and up-turned crescents on their foreheads visible.

“Are those…” Sam trailed off, landing carefully beside Thor and Bucky, eyes watching all of them in the trees.

“Yes,” Thor breathed.

They turned back to the creature, never moving an inch, eyes never leaving Her. She landed on the ground in front of the creature, eyes narrowed at it. Her bow still drawn, an arrow aimed at its head. In just a blink of an eye, Her bow was around her body, arrow back in the quiver and She was running at the creature at full speed, long hunting knife in hand.

The creature and She rolled around the ground for a few minutes before a high-pitched cry rang through the air. The dark mass was back to its smaller size, body limp against the ground.

She was kneeled before it, looking around at the figures in the tree before looking up at the Moon. She muttered a few words, words that Thor, Steve nor Bucky had ever heard before. Hunting knife through the chest, where the heart of a normal animal would be. One last whimper before its body stilled.

Forgotten where the hooded figures that stood on the tree branches with their bows drawn at the Avengers. Their eyes never left the woman standing before the creature, her hand reaching slowly for her scarf, her eyes focused on the group of heroes in front of her. Tundras and glaciers hid behind her eyes, piercing them as goosebumps clawed their way up their skin.

Cold, but beautiful. Her hand pulled her scarf down, her eyes never leaving them. Shoulder length dark hair fell loose as her scarf hung around her neck. Brown skin, freckles glowing and face-up crescent moon highlighting her face perfectly. She still held the hunting knife in one hand, dripping with the creature’s blood; the same color as the blood left behind weeks ago.

“The amount of hellhounds getting loose, or rather sent, have been increasing at an alarming rate,” She simply stated, more to herself and the Hunters, wiping the blood off on her hunting knife against her dark trouser’s leg.

A quick glance to Her sisters followed by a short, sharp whistle and the others in the trees had lowered their bows, all falling out of the trees and catching themselves, moving to stand around them. One of the hunters moved to stand directly beside Her, not bothering to remove her own hood and scarf. Her eyes on Bucky and Steve.

“You can relax,” Artemis chuckled, “I may not be one for the male species, but I have respect for another God when I see him, even with mortal men by his side.”

Natasha made the first move. Involuntarily pulling the arrow from the tree trunk, she swung from the branches and carefully landed before cautiously walking towards the middle, standing beside Steve and Sam. All the Hunters visibly relaxed at the sight of another woman, yet there was still an edge to the way they stood. They were not trusting.

A smirk danced upon Artemis’s face, her eyes raking over Natasha before they moved to the four men accompanying her.

“Artemis,” Thor finally spoke up, clearing his throat and straightening up. He knew about her distaste in men, but he could not keep fighting off the smile at the sight of the Moon Goddess of the Greeks. “Goddess of the Hunt, of the Wild, of Chastity, of Childbirth.”

The last time he was this excited was when he met Brunnhilde, the Valkyrie.

Eyebrow arched and the faintest of smiles toying on her lips, Artemis looked at the others. She took in the sight of Thor, the innocent and excited of a child on his face; Steve, a neutral expression but his eyes displayed every thought, emotion, curiosity that ran through his mind; Bucky, his own expression soft and curious, eyes moving quickly as if he’ll miss something, attempting to remember everything to a T; Sam, a mix of emotions written across his face, but the way his lips parted and eyes flitted over each face, doing his very best to not meet the Goddess’s eyes; Natasha’s brows furrowed and lips parted, her eyes betraying herself as they filled with wonder and innocence.

“Am I to assume your title, young God?” Artemis asked, her tone calm, neutral, “And your friends’?”

Thor was used to this, but the rest of the group? They couldn’t remember the last time, in recent years, that their names were unknown by anyone they came across. Names, aliases, that they were part of, deemed by media sources, a controversial hero group the Avengers, Earth’s best defenders. Their past and present are known by all, their future in the eye of the public determined by the same people.

Soon, Artemis and her Hunters were aware of who was who. Of course, with some unhelpful jabs from Tony and Natasha, she deduced that Tony was the one in the red iron suit, known as Iron Man, Steve was the man on ice, etc. Artemis was more amused with the alias that Natasha announced for herself, the “Black Widow.” She admired it actually.

Artemis’s second in command never took her eyes off the men she once knew. Had it really been this long? They were alive after all this time?

Bucky had his eyes on the woman behind Artemis, the one closest to her. Her scarf still pulled up to cover everything from the nose down, her eyes flickering between Bucky and Steve. Bucky could see the loose strands of her hair pressed to her damp skin. Eyes flickered between the ground and them. Her’s never meeting him.

Just like the others, a soft glowing crescent moon with the points turned towards the sky. Unlike the others, she had a constellation of tiny stars dotted from the arch of her right eyebrow, curving down the path of her temple and stopping just before the iris of her eye on her cheek.

Steve also noticed the constellation mapped against the sky of her face. The stars reflected the stars mapped out across the universe. Glowing specks, hidden secrets in their distant light, one’s buried billions of light years away, only for the stars to share with one another, giving the planets hints of the universe’s mysteries, and anybody lucky enough to reach it.

Steve and her eyes locked. A brief flash of emotion. With widened eyes, Steve caught Bucky’s eye before looking back at her, Artemis’s second in command.

He knew those eyes. They both knew those eyes, yet her name did not roll off their tongue. Her name was a song that played at the back of their mind; the song you couldn’t remember the name of, but the chorus stuck to you for days, singing it under your breath until enough was enough and the name came flooding back to you in the most unexpected moment. They’d been singing that same song since 1944 and at that very moment, in the middle of the woods and surrounded by Hunters and a Goddess, they remembered the name of the song.

Artemis noticed the way the two soldiers looked at the woman behind Her. Her second-in-command the most tense She’d ever felt.

Tony was still questioning them, an authoritative tone with her but Artemis did not care. He was a mere mortal hidden, hidden behind a face of metal and the materialistic concept of money. Artemis rolled her eyes, getting ready to call the Hunters back into the woods until a name came from the man on ice, Steve.

Aside from Artemis’s own, no other name was given when introductions were made. All the Hunters remain nameless; just strong, powerful women with bows and arrows, friends - no- sisters, of the Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. All names were unknown until Steve said it, the name of Artemis’s second in command, the name of the woman he cared for since he was the scrawny kid that fought the big guys, cutting off Tony, causing Artemis’s most trusted Hunter to gasp soundlessly.

Eyes wide, lips parted, heart racing. A million memories racing through her head.

Bucky said her name next, a small step forward, only be met with drawn bows.

Artemis stepped forward, her hand pulling her hunting knife out of her high holster but stopped when a hand wrapped around her forearm. Artemis looked up, her eyes locking with her’s.

“The last time I heard my name come out of either of their mouths was the night Bucky left after being drafted,” she finally said.

All eyes were on her.

Slowly, her hands reached to carefully pull the scarf down. Eyes moved from the ground and finally locked with the two men she once dreamed every night about. A sharp inhale from the three of them. She couldn’t believe she was looking at them again, for the first time in about eighty years.

The two men who always encouraged her to push herself, to push past the norms set for women during their time. The two idiots who left her behind, promising her that they’d come back. Whom she thought broke their promises.

Each time she woke from a dream in the middle of the night, finding her way to a lake or stream, moonlight washing over her, she’d remember the news of Bucky losing his life on a mission in the mountains.

She remembered coming home from a day shift at the factory. Her body sore from working the heavy machinery. A quick stop to drop off some baked goods to the Barnes before she finally trudged up her steps and slipped into her home. A letter with her name elegantly written across the front of the envelope; someone personally slipped this into the mail slot.

She remembered everything falling around her, knees hitting the ground, tears blinding her. Her fingers gripping the damp paper, stained with her tears and her other hand pressing the dog tags to her chest, soundless screams She remembered the night she disappeared from the world.

No one called off the Hunters with their bows trained on Steve and Bucky; they sure as hell didn’t notice.

Steve and Bucky’s eyes never left her. She looked exactly the same. No sign of aging. The hood of her sleeveless tunic barely on her head. The only thing different aside from the glowing crescent on her forehead and the constellation dancing over her eyebrow, were her eyes.

She’d seen a lot, experienced a lot.

“You two punks,” she started off breathlessly. Stepping towards them, forgetting about Artemis, forgetting about her boys’ new friends, she made a gesture and bows were slowly lowered. She stood in front of them, her eyes on Bucky.

Her fingers twitched at her side. The last she had seen him was the night he was drafted. She thought he was dead. Somewhere in the mountains. She thought they were both dead.

She turned towards Steve.

He certainly looked different. Broad shoulders, tiny waist, long legs. She remembered seeming images of Captain America in the papers, but she never once saw him during his newfound days as a soldier, as America’s sweetheart.

He stood with confidence, with pride, with ease. Raw emotions behind those blue eyes with the specs of green and those long lashes still brushed against his pale cheeks; you were still jealous of those damn eyelashes for they touched the skin you once wished to feel against yours. That you, again, wanted to feel against your own skin.

He wasn’t the same scrawny man who disappeared the night after the Stark Expo. He didn’t look like the man she had fallen in love with, but she knew that she no longer seemed like the young woman that they had grown up with as well. He looked different, but she knew better to judge a person based on what they look like. Was he still the same stubborn, headstrong man who fought for the little guys?

Bucky looked different, too. He seemed different. Not just the way he looked and how much he physically changed, but the way he held himself.

What happened over the last century?

Their current position, in the middle of the forest and surrounded by her sisters as well as their friends, came rushing back to her. Rapid blinking and small gasp pushed past her lips, as she stepped back; Steve took a small step forward, Bucky’s hand lurched toward. No bows pointed at them this time.

She peered over her shoulder, apologetic eyes as she locked gazes with Artemis.

She knew how Artemis felt about men. Knew how all her sisters felt about men. Hell, how she felt about men. But these two men… they were different. She missed them, the lost longing resurfacing through the waves of emotions.

The look in Artemis’s eyes was cold, but understanding. Yet She took another look around, eyeing the mortals and the young Asgardian God before Her eyes settled on her most trusted sister, friend. The woman Bucky and Steve had just gotten back, was being taken away from them.

“Well… the beast has been handled, sent back to Hades. Our task has been completed and we must get going. We don’t get to leisure like the rest of the world,” Artemis commented. A short whistle followed and suddenly the Avengers were no longer surrounded by Her Hunters.

All the Hunters followed Artemis back into the woods, with their hoods thrown on and covers back over their faces just at the nose. All except her.

She stayed put after taking several steps backwards, eyes never leaving Steve’s. Confliction in her eyes, her hand scrunched over the fabric of her tunic, the quiver’s leather strap, and her bow string.

Steve, furrowed brows and parted lips, stepped forward against, his hand reached out. Fingertips just barely brushing against her bare arm before she stepped back, tears in her eyes and bewilderment.

“Wait,” Steve gasped, taking another step forward, watching her turn her back on them, on him, and disappearing into the forest.

The night they were brought together and pulled apart again, Steve and Bucky blindly ran into the forest. They called her name, shouted for her to come back, that they just wanted a little more time. Their calls were met with no human response, only the howls of wolves from the north, the chirping of crickets and the symphony of the woodland creatures.

For the next month, with the help of Sam and Natasha, Steve and Bucky spent their nights, from the moment the sun disappeared and the Moon was at Her highest, searching the forest. The perimeter surrounding the clearing and from there on.

A month of stumbling over roots that dipped in and out of the sea made of dirt. Leaves dark, outlined by blue and silver from the moonlight.

The new, repeating orchestra of boots crunching and hitting the ground at a quick rhythm, heavy breathing, calls of each others’ names as they believed they found something, directions shouted, heavy breathing and hopeful pleads that they found something.

Natasha suggested following the Moon’s trail at another completed cycle, but it was a bust.

They searched and searched. Another cycle went by, marking two months. They refused to give up. Steve refused to give up.

All those emotions from over eighty years ago came rushing back to the surface. Ones that he knew still bubbled deep down, but never thought about making its way back to his consciousness, the vivid everyday thoughts. The ones he’d dream about once in a while, as if the universe was sending him a message, a chance to change things.

Steve thought he could finally tell her. Finally explain that everytime Bucky sent her up with a friend or the brother of his flame, it would upset him. How he hated himself for allowing himself to fall in love with her and never did anything about it. He not once indulged himself. Hated himself for not coming back to her and for leaving her without a single word.

Things were different now. They were different. Life was different.

Third cycle, marking the third month since Steve last saw her. Another full Moon. Except, this felt different.

Rather than starting where they left off the night before, Steve headed to the lake that was north to the clearing where they ran into Artemis and Her Hunters, into her. Bucky trailed after him, calling his name, but to no avail, Steve kept going.

Steve was in no rush. No heavy boots beating against the forest’s interior, pushing past the trees and snapping off the branches; no shouts alarming the forest’s natives. He walked, skillfully and carefully dodging branches, quietly as to not disrupt the night’s silence.

Breaking past the last line of defense, Steve stopped just a few feet from the shore. Bucky’s cries were no longer audible.

In front of Steve, the Moon’s reflection splayed across the lake, the silver beam casting an ethereal glow against the surface.

His eyes were focused on the figure across the body of water. Her hood down, crescent glowing faintly, the white and dark freckles causing her eyes to glow as she watched the Moon against the breaking surface of water; were the aquatic creatures reaching for the heavens, too? The constellation that swept from her brow down to her cheek was not as bright as the night they saw each other for the first time in eighty plus years, but he could still see it.

Her quiver and bow laid beside her, her hands dipped into the water, specifically where silver danced across dark blue. Her eyes closed, lips moving, head turned towards the Moon.

Steve felt his heart race as he took another step forward, not wanting to interrupt and break the silence, but he also did not want to keep feeling like a predator right as they snuck up on their prey.

Where he was once in tranquility, he now felt desperation.

Steve stood at the shore, his hands itched and his body full of adrenaline, except he didn’t know to release it. Everything was going fast but slow at the same time. His brows furrowed with nerves, eyes never leaving her figure as she slowly tilted her back down to her hands, eyes opened and on her hands before meeting his, a quick white gleam over them before they returned to their normal color.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him, lips parted but the corners tugging themselves upwards.

Her name rolled off Steve’s tongue, an old tune that she knew would be replaying in her mind for the rest of the week.

They met halfway, standing a short distance away from each other.

She admired his wear. A stealth suit in a dark, navy blue with the only color being brown leather from the straps of his belt, the leather holding the shield against his back, the fingerless gloves, and the silver of the star in the middle of his chest, followed by the stripes on either side. He bore no helmet, messy blond hair tempted to dance with the breeze to the quiet symphony of a forest’s night white noise. The perfect sculpture of his chest, dipping into his waist, rounding back out at his hips.

The Moon made his eyes brighter. She smiled to herself, knowing Steve wouldn’t understand.

Steve himself took her in. Aside from the additional glowing facial features and signs of physical strength that he picked up on, she looked exactly the same. Except, at the same time, she didn’t.

Her eyes were still soft, but there was a hidden wisdom behind them. She’s seen enough, maybe more than he has. Her lips were still plump, but no wrinkle lines from smiles that once made his heart race faster than a hummingbird’s, that have been making his heart race when he climbs back into bed after hours of searching for the past three months. Her body… he wanted to see what was hidden beyond the tunic, to run his hands along each and every curve, appreciate the softness of her belly and thighs. To feel her calloused hands against his skin and steal the moments that should’ve been their’s years ago.

They whispered each other’s name. Steve’s heart thumped against his chest, he thought she’d be able to hear it. She smiled brightly, a soft laugh brushing past the smile that shone brighter than the stars and the Moon.

They found themselves sitting next to each other, legs towards the lake and toes pointed to the heavens.

He told her everything. From being injected with the serum and adapting feelings for a certain British SSR agent, losing Bucky and steering the plane into the ocean in hopes of saving the world, to waking up and finding out the truth that the government hid, finding Bucky and saving the universe multiple times.

When he looked over at her, her smile was gone, fingers involuntarily pulling at the grass.

“Artemis forgive me,” she murmured before turning back to Steve.

“I was coming back from a shift down at the factory,” she started, eyes never leaving the moon’s reflection on the lake’s surface, “I was so tired, but I dropped off some fresh bread at Buck’s, for Rebecca and Winifred. Just like I had done for the last five years. Except, this night was different. That damn letter was just sitting there in the mail. My name handwritten across the front. No address or return address. Just my name.”

A humorless chuckle.

“Had a lot of moxie,” she referred to him with the wave of her hand, “getting up and leaving only days after Buck. Leaving me alone, without a word. Then five years later, I get a letter and your tags,” she breathed out, tossing her body against the grass, flat on her back.

Steve couldn’t look at her. He felt shame. He just went and left her behind. Of course, he’d do it all over again, but he knew he’d do something different along with it.

“‘We regret to inform you that Captain Steven G. Rogers…” she trailed off, her voice shaky.

“They called themselves men, let alone soldiers? Didn’t even have the moxie to tell me and the Barnes’ personally. Completely passed the buck,” she breathed, her voice cracking as she fought to stay strong.

Steve finally spared a glance over at her, his heart stopping when he spotted glittery tears race down her face.

“I can’t remember much after that,” she croaked softly, “I just remember waking up and there was Artemis, standing over me, smiling. The Hunters stood around us, no bows pointed at me,” she threw in as a small joke.

It earned a smile from Steve and playful huff.

“I became a Hunter that night,” she stated seriously, looking up at the Moon. “I pledged myself to the Moon and to the Hunt, to protect the wilderness and my sisters. I pledged myself to Artemis in exchange for immortality and a family. One that I know won’t go anywhere.”

Not sure whether she threw that in to jab at his actions or not, it hurt Steve regardless. He turned his glance up to the moon. Fingers tangled tightly through blades of grass, Steve having to remember not to pull the grass out, that she whispered for forgiveness when she had just pulled the blades from the ground.

The silence settled between them, tension lingering around. Taunting them, causing them to steal glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Steve wasn’t exactly the same man he was in the past, just shy of turning twenty and determined to join the army to fight in World War II. He never spoke about the way he felt, in terms of romantically and anything involving her. Now, he wanted to say everything on his mind, what the emotions bubbling in his chest caused his mind to flood with.

Where do they go from here? This is the last time they’ll see each other? How does he find her? What happens now? What happens to us?

Steve felt her eyes burning into the side of his face, his cheeks heating. Had he said that aloud?

Steve opened his mouth, struggling to quickly get words out but she’s already cut him off.

“What do you think is going to happen, Steve?” she urged with a stern voice, a cold-blooded look lingering in her eyes. She stood herself up, white-knuckling the bow in her hand.

Steve pushed himself up, standing to his full height, hands out to pacify her. This angered her further.

“I - we..” Steve stuttered, brows furrowed. Angry was slowly seeping into his blood, but he willed himself to not do this. There was no need to get defensive nor offensive.

“What did you think was going to happen, Steve?” She pushed, taking a step forward after each word. Quiver over her shoulder, finger pressing into the middle of his chest. The first time she’s touched him since the forties and it was to put him in his place, out of anger.

“I don’t know,” Steve urged back. God, he wanted to feel more than just her finger pressing into his chest, pushing him back.

“Steve, you left. You were gone,” she spat. Her brows furrowed, the spot between them scrunched up, The constellations of glowing freckles brightened as she got closer, Steve’s back finally pressed against a tree, branches on either side of him. Entrapping him.

Her eyes narrowed, chest just barely brushing against his. Her finger slack against his chest. No longer was it just the tip of her finger and finger nail. Her whole finger laid lax against his suit, palm and thenar with it.

Steve watched a glassy glaze coat her eyes, her facial features softening. Eyes never breaking from each other, her hand slowly opening, all fingers splayed against the tough material stretched against his broad chest.

“You left, Steve. You both left. It was the three of us. Then the two of us, until it was just me,” her voice croaked.

Steve’s heart shattered at the broken look in her eyes. Years of sadness and years of ache were all rushing back to her. Just like when all those unspoken feelings rashed back to him after seeing her again.

“Five years,” she whispered, tears threatening to spill over, “you were gone for five years. You didn’t even come back after we thought Bucky died. I don’t know how it works, but you’d think Captain America would spare a minute or two to make sure the family of his best friend was okay,” she chuckled sadly.

There was another jab. Of course he could and should have gone to see how they were holding up - he was family after all, but he was just so upset over not saving Bucky himself, he couldn’t bear telling the Barnes how it happened, how it was his fault.

“You left,” she broke his train of thought, “and now, eighty years later, turns out the three of us are alive.”

The words wouldn’t move past his lips. They stayed on the tip of Steve’s tongue. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing again. But his mind was repeating that sentence, a mantra, -

She pushed away from Steve’s body in a rush, pivoting on her heel. Quiver strewn across her body, hood pulled over her head and completely covering her. She ran across the clearing, reflection glittering over the pond and the moonlight’s silver beams.

She’s fast, faster than him. Steve’s hand is held out, clenched around where her wrist would’ve been if he caught - stopped her in time.

Steve’s eyes were glued to her figure, body frozen in place.

She stopped at the moment she arrived where the trees and small patch ground met. Throwing a look over her shoulder, a sliver of light over her eyes, the constellations kissing her skin glowing brighter.

Then she was gone.

Six months went by. It was the middle of winter.

The snow-packed Earth deafened the sound of forest– all except for the soft crunch of their boots against the smooth ground. Bucky reached down and picked up a brown leaf, examining it, then looking up to see the remnants of wooden soldiers; their bodies now battered and broken into heaps of sticks littered everywhere.

Sun peaking through grey clouds, soft flurries floating to the ground. Covering the bodies of wooden soldiers, hiding evidence of greens and what once was. Tracks of the forest’s habitants slowly covered by blankets of slurried water.

The clearing was not touched. The only footsteps were made by heavy boots, belonging to Steve.

Sporting outerwear that was similar to a poncho made for the winter, Steve stopped in the middle of the clearing, pulling the hood down. Blue eyes scanning the surrounding area.

To his left, the tree broken in half from the creature straight from full, covered in snow. Blue eyes glanced to the surrounding wooden soldiers that continued to stand tall, observing the branches. Steve wasn’t sure why he hoped to see the footprints from the Hunters who stood on those trees’ arms, bows drawn and arrows pointed at the Avengers.

Steve’s name coming from Bucky snapped him out of the small trance, body turned towards his best friend.

“They’re not here. I think it’s time to go,” Bucky pushed, shifting back and forth. He’s always hated the cold. She did, too.

Steve took one last glance around. He could picture the very moment. When she moved from her spot behind the Greek Goddess, her eyes never wavering from him and Bucky. He wished he could relive the feeling he got when she finally spoke up. Hearing her voice after eighty years plus.

Chills crawling up his back and it wasn’t from the cold gust of wind.

The sound of footsteps on set snow cause Steve and Bucky to turn towards the point of origin.

There, in stark contrast between the blanket of snow and the dark amor made of bark, was a single deer. Body turned towards their own point of origin, but the head was facing them. Nose moving with every whiff it caught, eyes on them, ears twitching at every little sound, deciding whether or not the two super soldiers were a threat.

Steve noticed the white spots littered on its back. Almost like constellations.

“You know, the deer is the sacred animal of Artemis,” Steve murmured, eyes never leaving the small creature, “Something about Her falling absolutely in love with them. I read that her chariot is driven by five golden-horned deer.”

Bucky, remained turned towards the deer, with his eyes casting a side glance to Steve, eyebrow arched.

Spring rolled around in a blink of an eye.

No longer was the ground blanketed in snow, but now in mud and puddles of what once was frozen. Animals tracks engraved deep into the ground, waiting to be immortalised. Greens were growing brighter and habitents were waking up soon.

Birth and new life was present.

Hunters of Artemis helping creatures who were troubled and struggling with birth. Bears, deers, boar. Aid and protection provided to the vulnerable creatures.

It was no longer hunting season, but there would always be those who defied their mortal rules. The Hunters and Artemis were always ready for them.

Artemis’s second in command was in charge of patrol detail. Perked up on one of the forest’s soldiers, she whispered a small gratitude to the natural protectors just as she touched the trunk, moving down to kneel on her knee. Bow in hand, arm reaching back to pull out an arrow.

Only a klick away were her sisters, helping a deer deliver not one, but two fawns.

All the Hunters were scattered nearby, in case anything were to happen. All they had to do was listen for the short, sharp whistle and the silhouette of a chariot made from clouds.

She had perfect visuals on the small clearing with the pond, the night she saw Steve, confronted him only seven moon cycles ago, was replaying in her head. Not that very moment, but the scene afterwards. When she ran away from him, when she was close to reuniting with her sisters. When she stopped dead in her tracks to Artemis standing right in front of her.

”Artemis,” she inhaled, straightening her back, white-knuckling her bow.

Artemis, hood pulled over her hood and scarf hanging around her neck, keeping off her face, watched her second in command with a stoic gaze. Eyebrow arched.

“You’ve gone to see the human man you once mourned,” Artemis simply stated. There was no venom dripping in her voice nor was there sweetness. It was neutral.

She knew better than to lie. Artemis was not one to forgive easily, didn’t matter if one was a mortal man or her own Hunter.

“He found me,” she simply stated. Her gaze never broke Artemis’s. An even exhale left her lips as she continued.

“I was in the clearing near the pond, cleaning my bow. He was there, we ended up talking,” she confessed, “nothing more, nothing less.”

Artemis gave her a stern look and she began to feel like a young girl, smothered by a scolding mother.

“Forgive me letting my emotions get the best of me and for hoping for any drop of closure. It’s been eighty years, Artemis. I can’t control the way my brain starts to react, overproducing thoughts of what ifs and making my body react on its own. The men who I believed dead and drove me to join my sisters and you. Forgive me for acting human.”

A touch to her shoulder made her draw her bow, arrow aimed at Adoni, a Nymph that traveled with Artemis much longer than she had.

“Zeus, you must have been really distracted,” Adoni teased lightly. A small, understanding smile played at the corners of her lips.

Shaky exhale, she lowered the bow, whilst sitting herself down on the branch. Legs swinging in the air, fingers brushing against the embedded moss, twirling her arrow in her other hand.

The silence between them was comforting.

She stared out, catching the little pockets of air from the pond bubbling across the surface. Blades of grass dancing in the direction of the breeze, songs echoing and amplifying with the help of the wind. Squirrels here and there. She smiled. It was moments like these that she didn’t miss the city.

“What was it like?” Adoni broke the silence.

She hummed for her to continue, her eyes never leaving the clearing below them.

“What was it like loving a mortal? Especially a man?”

A scoff left her lips, but her heart skipped a couple beats at the thought.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the kindness hidden behind Steve’s eyes. Blue with just small specks of green, leaving some people to say he was almost perfect.

It was the way his brows furrowed and face scrunched up when he was concerned. The way his blond locks brushed against his forehead when out of place. His stupid smile that started with his lips pressed together, slowly growing wider until it was teeth and crescent eyes. That one wrinkle between his brows when he was deep in thought.

The way he would never stand down during a fight, always getting back up and being the stubborn man she fell in love with. The way he cared for everyone. The way he hid his emotions but his eyes deceived him. How he put everyone before him.

The way she hoped he’d return after the war.

“You don’t ever really stop,” she murmured, finding solace in the silence once more.

Recruits all scattered across the field behind the compound. Some were running laps around the track, others sitting on the grass and heads thrown back in laughter. There was an easiness to them as the cool breeze sliced through the early summer warmth.

Late afternoon, no harsh sun nor bright blues. The clouds softened, coming apart and whisps twirling into nothing. Clouds no longer pure white, but masterpieces of pale shades of pinks and purples. Cotton balls slowly pulled and stretched until there was nothing in the middle but now two clumps of cotton.

Natasha was looking out to the field from the third floor. Arms crossed over her chest, eyes scanning the trees. She’d been doing that since that night, nearly a year ago.

Natasha’s eyes glanced to the figure that stepped up beside her, mimicking her stance.

“When was the last time you went?” Natasha broke the short silence, her eyes focused on the practically transparent full moon hovering among the trees, slowly climbing to the middle of the heavens.

“Four days ago,” Steve replied quietly, his own eyes glued to the tops of the trees.

Natasha looked at Steve’s reflection against the glass.

Steve had that determined look he usually wore, but there was something different recently. Everything hardened except his eyes. They were soft; hopeful.

“Steve, can I ask you something?”

A soft hum of encouragement.

“Why do you keep it? Why keep going into the forest? Why keep looking for someone that doesn’t want to be found?”

Silence. The silence pushed Natasha to keep going.

“Steve… she found her calling, her own opportunity, her own shield and cause. Why keep looking for her? What are you hoping for?” Natasha turned towards Steve, continuing, regardless of him shifting back and forth on his feet, “are you hoping that you can make up for losing each other the first time? For leaving her completely behind? That some powerful being in the universe made it so? Granting you this second chance?”

Steve interrupted her as she kept going, his voice crescendoing with each breath.

“Yes! Maybe! I don’t know!” Steve shouted. Arms uncrossed, palms hitting the glass before one hand rested on his hip, other running through his hair.

“Steve, tell me you don’t hope she leaves everything just to come back to you.”

One, two, three long seconds of silence.

“I don’t know.”

Later into the night, with the skies completely dark and the stars glowing brightly amongst the full moon, Steve was sitting back in the small clearing, feet at the edge and hovering over the pond.

Hands palming the grass behind him, his body leaning back on his arms, acting like support beams. Steve’s phone playing Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s “Dream a Little Dream of Me.” He hummed along, watching the full moon’s reflection, the waves dancing across the seemingly perfect surface.

Ripples caught Steve’s attention, his eyes moving up, breath catching in the back of his throat. In front of him, a single deer. Back littered with white spots, the head turned downwards as it took a drink from the pond.

Behind Steve, a gentle voice singing along.

Steve didn’t bother turning to look over his shoulder. The figure dropped to its knees only a foot away, right next to him. She stopped singing along, moving herself to sit on her bottom, one leg outstretched and the other pulled up. Her bow next to her, mimicking his position, arms going behind her.

They stayed still, both facing the pond. The song ending, only to be repeated.

Steve wants to break the silence, he wants to be the first to say something, but she beats him to it.

“Did you know that Artemis is not only the goddess of the Moon, but of the hunt? Of childbirth? Of virginity and purity?” She started, her eyes moving from the reflection to the Moon.

She took Steve’s silence as “keep going.”

“Artemis… she’s not very forgiving - believes that a woman’s virginity and purity is sacred. She hates anyone that tries to violate that purity and steal it from a woman without her wanting.”

Steve’s eyes never leave the Moon’s reflection.

“As a Hunter of Artemis,” she continued,”you stay loyal to your sisters and especially Artemis. She chose each and everyone of us for a reason. The moment to break that loyalty and trust, you choose the temptations and empty promises of man over the bond of eternal sisterhood, you lose everything,” she breathed slowly.

The silence came again. Steve’s phone dead, the only music from the hooting of owls and insects, buzzing, chirping, making themselves known.

“I don’t regret leaving,” Steve started off, catching her off guard, “I don’t regret being the man I was nor am.”

Her eyes moved, now glued to the toes of her boots. Her eyes burning with the unforgotten sensation of tears, fingers gripping blades of grass tightly. She’d been fighting off tears for the past year.

“I don’t regret becoming Captain America,” Steve continued, swallowing slowly before continuing, “but… but I do regret not coming back when we thought we lost Bucky. I regret not writing. I regret not telling you how much I love you.”

She froze. Steve said love, not loved.

She had been thinking about this since her conversation with Adoni.

With a deep, nervous inhale, she pushed herself back to her knees. Bow laid against the ground, her hands free and wiped against over pant material on her thighs. She saw Steve turn towards her as she reached her hands to the back of her neck.

Carefully, she pulled out a beaded chain hidden underneath her tunic. A shaky gasp left her lips when the metal tags were no longer pressed against her chest, stuck to her skin. She waited for the uneasy feeling that came with ridding herself of the metallic memoir. It was one the one thing she kept of her past.

She heard Steve’s choked sob, her own eyes blurred with hot tears. A heartbroken laugh escaped her, the chain lifted and her neck free of the feeling, metal no longer against her skin. Only her tunic and the leather of the quiver across her chest.

Carefully, tags splayed against her palm and the chain piled in a circle over them. Her eyes never left her hand. Taking in memory of the chain, finger running over the imprints one last time.

This time, her inhale was calm, confident, collected simultaneously as she pulled Steve’s hand out. While she glanced up at him, noticing the tears running down his face, she realized her own face was streaked with hot tears, vision blurry.

“Steve,” she exhaled, carefully dropping his dog tags into his hand. Her hand wrapped around his, enclosing the tags.

They both looked at each other at the same time. Her hand moved from his, cupping his face, turning him to her.

Their eyes lingered on one another, switching between their lips and their eyes. It took the push of the chilly summer breeze to push them towards one another.

His first kiss since that day in Germany, with Sharon.

Her first kiss ever.

She never knew that kisses were so intense, full of emotion, so heavy and rushed yet slow and careful. Her hand shifts to his neck, pulling him closer, but though she wants more, they both want more, she pulls away.

Eyes closed, light breathes leaving their bodies, chests heaving. Her thumb brushed at the patch skin by his hair, into the beard.

“Steve, I don’t regret becoming one of Artemis’s Hunters. I don’t regret swearing my loyalty to my sisters, to Artemis and the Moon, nor to the Hunt. I don’t regret choosing the Hunt over you. I don’t regret kissing you,” she breathed, opening her eyes, “but I do regret kissing you not soon enough.”

Steve opened his eyes to see the constellations on her face glowing bright, the crescent moon pointed to the heavens lit dimly, and a quick sliver of silver flashing across her eyes.

With a soft, confident smile, she pushed herself up. Reaching down to swipe her bow, she moved quickly, stopping at the forest’s first defense. This time, she allowed herself to spare a glance back at Steve. Her smile grew bigger, brighter. One last nod, she turned her back, running into the forest.

Steve watched after her. Hand clenched tightly around his old dog tags.

His gaze moved from the tree line down to where she once sat.

There was no indent from her body. No imprint against the grass, the grass was not even laid flat.

No, where she once sat beside him, where she gave him back the one piece that still tied her down to the mortal man, bloomed a single flower.

White petals, with just a hint of pink among the edges and tips. Where she once was, bloomed a moon flower.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #modern greek au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Take Cover

Series Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and his team are stuck in their compound. Following a mission, you disagree with your stalwart leader but he does not take kindly to your defiance.

Sequel to Insubordination, Pulling Rank, Misconduct, and Furlough

Chapter Description: The reader struggles to relax on her vacation.

Warnings: non-con/explicit sex, violence, mentions of birth control/contraceptives. Obviously 18+ (like this whole blog)

Note: Okay so this got fucking crazy. It starts out slow but I promise, it is worth it. Drama, smut, darkness! Omg, thank you guys for your patience and I hope this was worth the way. Love you ❤

Thanks for reading. Feel free to send an ask, reblog, or reply of your thoughts:)

Even upon returning to you room, you were not to meet with any sleep. You were still tender and mortified. Steve had used you so easily. The more you allowed him to bend and contort your body to his whims, the more it tore you up inside. What had happened to the man you had once respected? Something was missing inside of him. And you couldn’t help the tremor every time you thought of him cumming inside of you. Of the possibility that he would linger within you.

You sat on the floor beside the ebony dresser carved with tribal insignia. You unpacked your bag into the drawers as the sun rose just outside your window. You felt so numb and yet there was a pain deep inside of you. You stood as you closed the drawers and changed into the outfit you had set aside. A billowy blouse and torn jeans. You did your best to look human in the mirror and slipped into a pair of flats.

You stared at your door before you found the will to open it. Your hand slowly turned the handle and you clicked it shut carefully behind you. You listened for any noise of your team. You neared Steve’s door and pressed your ear to the wood; you could hear his sound snores from the other side. Bastard. He was entirely unfazed by what he was doing to you. A bitterness settled on your tongue and you walked quietly down the hall.

You found your way to the throne room by chance but only after getting lost several times. You were surprised to find Shuri there. She was staring out the windows of the palace onto the mosaic of wilderness mixed with industry below. You neared her and she swore in her own language as you spooked her; your reflection appearing just beside hers in the glass. You smiled meekly and tucked your hands in your pocket.

“You’re awake early,” She grinned at you in the window, “I’d thought you and the rest would be sleeping off your jetlag.”

“I’ve always been an early bird,” You returned, “I was actually hoping to ask you something. Um, or someone. Not really sure who to ask.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To answer questions. If it’s not that white boy in my lab prodding at my work, it’s my brother.” She chuckled.

“I was hoping to travel around the city today...just for an hour or so. Cooped up in that compound…” You stared down at the colourful streets. “I’m getting a little stir crazy.”

“Ah, yes, I can get you a car. And my brother had your credentials prepared. They’re in the lab waiting for you.” She turned to you at last. “It must be hard; leaving it all behind for the solitary of that place. I told my brother, it was little more than a prison. So boring.”

“I’ve found that the friends you lose are worse than any material,” You said solemnly, “Some things you know you can never get back.”

“I think you and the white boy would get along. You’re both rather pessimistic,” She shook her head, “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you,” You followed her as she turned away. She flicked her fingers over her shoulder for you to follow and you did so eagerly. A couple hours away had only been a fantasy; the last you clung to in surviving the horror of your reality.

Wakandan currency, a fake passport, a map, and a mod to Google translate and you were ready to go. A car awaited you downstairs and you slid into the back with a suppressed sigh. You felt almost free even if you knew it wouldn’t last. You asked the driver to take you to your first and most important destination and wrung your hands eagerly. When he stopped, you stepped out with a thanks and stared up at the pharmacy. That at least resembled its western counterpart.

It was a full five minutes before you worked up the courage to enter. You looked around the shelves of beauty products and medicinal aids. You walked down the center aisle and meekly approached the pharmacist’s counter. You neared with a nervous smile, waiting behind the other customer as you clutched the thin strap of your purse.

It was your turn and you stumbled as you stepped up to the counter. “Um, I...is there any way to request a private consultation?”

“Certainly,” The woman smiled; her braids twisted back in a ballerina bun. “Come with me, hon.”

Her English was clear and you were relieved that you didn’t need the app to understand her. She led you to a small room and assured you that the pharmacist would be in soon. You sat in the clinical white chair and shook your leg. When at last another woman appeared in a white coat, you greeted her in a small voice and she closed the door behind her.

“Hello, I’m Anula. How can I help you today…?”

“Y/N,” You introduced yourself, “I, uh, I, well, I’m sure you can guess that I’m not from around here and I wasn’t sure even if you could help…”

“I can try,” She smiled warmly, “Do you have a passport?”

“Y-yes,” You unzipped your purse shakily and held out the document provided by Shuri. She took it and read it over carefully.

“You are a guest of the king,” She turned to the fourth page; a large stamp with a panther’s head on it.

“I am,” You confirmed softly.

“Anything you need would be covered under the Crown’s hospitality.” She assured you.

“Even without a prescription?” You wondered.

“If it is required, we can arrange a doctor’s visit within the hour,” She offered, “Really, we are not so strict as America. Our healthcare is here to care, not to profit.”

“I...I need birth control.” You admitted shyly; your voice didn’t feel like your own. “And...Plan B, if you have it.”

She nodded but not judgement marred her face. Her expression was that of understanding. “Easy. We can have the birth control readied within twenty minutes. Just a few questions first and the Plan B is not a problem at all. I’ll have my staff put it together at once.” She stood and offered her hand, “You don’t have to be afraid. Not here.”

You swallowed the pill at the counter and left with slightly less anxiety. You hid the rest of your haul in your purse and walked along the street as you stopped in the local shops. You paused to watch the traffic and rush of people around you. You could just disappear. You laughed at yourself darkly and continued to the corner to meet the driver. Steve would find you, you knew that.

By the time you returned to the palace, your head was achy and your stomach had begun to roil. You thanked the driver again and dragged yourself up the royal stairs. Inside, you traversed the maze as best you could and eventually found your way back to the throne room. From there, you could recall the path Shuri had led you along last night.

Wanda turned the corner at the same time as you and you nearly took her out as you grabbed onto each other. She giggled and you tried to but the unexpected run in had only spiked your already fragile nerves.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Wanda greeted in her subtle accent, “Nat’s in the common room with Shuri. She wants us to play some games with her.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows and resisted the urge to touch your stomach. You felt sick. And tired. “I don’t know. I’m exhausted.”

“And yet you went running around Wakanda,” She mused, “What were you doing anyway?”

“Just...exploring. As much alone time I’ve had during my suspension, doesn’t really feel like I’m alone, you know?” You spoke quietly.

“I know,” Her hands clung to yours, “But you shouldn’t always be alone. Please...for me. You can just watch.”

“Okay,” You gave a reluctant smile, “You know I can’t deny you.”

“I know,” She preened.

“I’ll just put my purse away and catch up to you, okay?” You slowly untwined your fingers from hers.

“Alright, I’ll walk slow…” Her eyes washed over your features before she finally stepped past you. “You better catch up.”

You sat on the long sofa as Shuri, Wanda, and Nat moved along with the figures on the television. You would’ve loved to play but you felt like shit. You were mostly just tired and quite tempted to fall asleep on the couch. Instead you just leaned on the arm and yawned. After Shuri came out the victor of the Shakira battle, Nat turned to you with a mope.

“Come on, Y/N, just one song,” She pleaded. “Maybe it will wake you up.”

You squinted at her and sighed. You definitely felt like a party pooper. You hated it. These last months you had been shrouded in gloom. You just wanted to enjoy life again; even if it was something as small as a round of Just Dance. You dropped your shoulders and grinned. You pushed yourself to your feet.

“Fine, where’s my controller?” You asked and Wanda smiled over Nat’s shoulder.

You took the small controller, slipping on the wrist strap, and lined up with the rest. “No, not Despacito,” You argued as Shuri began flicking through the catalogue.

She settled on some Lady Gaga instead, “Fine. Something a bit more palatable for you.”

You started moving along with them as best you could. For someone trained to fight, you weren’t the most co-ordinated. You blamed that on your lack of rhythm and sleep. You were really starting to enjoy yourself as you forgot your eventful arrival the night before. You ignored the movement you sensed at the other end of the room, lost in the rhythm and shared giddiness. The song ended and Shuri gloated again as she came out on top.

“Shit!” Nat’s natural competitive nature was starting to boil over. “I swear. You’re cheating.”

“Or you’re getting a bit rusty,” Sam taunted and you turned.

He stood just inside with Steve and Bucky at his shoulders. The three were thoroughly amused by the scene and you would’ve dropped your controller if it wasn’t for the strap. Steve’s eyes were on your formerly swinging hips and you knew he had seen a few too many of your ill-timed moves. You unhooked the strap from your hand and set the controller aside. You looked away, trying to avoid a direct stare down only to catch Wanda’s pale eyes. Slowly she peeked over at Steve and you saw the thoughts swirling.

“You four are like the second coming of the Spice Girls over here,” Sam teased as he crossed the room.

“And it looks like Scary just showed up,” Nat countered.

Steve and Bucky trailed behind; the former moved like a predator. The warmth of his gaze lingered on you. You crossed your arms and kept your distance. You edged closer to Wanda and whispered as you turned your back to the room. “I think I’m going to lay down now.”

She nodded, her eyes still glued to Steve. “I’ll come with you. Just to make sure you’re alright.”

“Wanda--”

“I insist,” She looked at you at last. “Come on.”

You waited as Wanda excused you and followed her to the door. In the hallway, you walked in silence, picking blindly at your nails.

“I don’t look into peoples’ heads anymore. I don’t like it.” She began quietly. “But I can still get a sense of what’s within. It doesn’t take my powers to see there is something going on.” Your eyes were wet as she spoke and you gulped. You couldn’t talk; wouldn’t. “Tell me and I can help you. We’ll all help you.”

She stopped short and turned to you. Your eyes were stuck to the carpet. “I can’t…”

“Even if you don’t tell me, I know. Something isn’t right.” She touched your elbow gently, “What has he done to you?”

“I let him do it.” You raised your head, staring her down defiantly as a single tear slipped down your cheek. “I can’t stop him and neither can you.”

Her face paled and her fingers gripped your arm. “Oh, Y/N… I can. We can.”

“No. I don’t want you to,” Your lip trembled. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine and--” You inhaled and shook your head, “I don’t want everyone to know what he’s done. It’s humiliating.”

“I won’t tell them then, but I can stop him. Please.” You lowered your head and her hands cradled your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“If you do, he’ll make me leave. You too. We’ll all have tossed it away for nothing.” You croaked. “At least when he’s out there, when’s he’s leading the team, he’s saving people. What is my life against theirs.”

“He’s not the only one helping--”

“Don’t! Okay! Don’t you understand? If I do anything, I’ll be left out in the cold. All alone.” You pushed her hands away. “And what do think will happen to you? You think he’ll let your little tryst with Vision continue? He’ll find a way to tell Tony.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll have me and no one could ever keep me from Vis.”

“No, he could. That’s what you don’t get.” You backed away. “Wanda, if you’re my friend, you’ll just let it be. I’ve enough regret on my shoulders.”

You spun and marched away from her. You could feel her watching you. The tears spilled freely as you turned the corner and you sniffed them back as you wiped them away. How had everything become so fucked up? Why did you always have to fuck things up so entirely?

There was a knock at the door after the windows had grown dark. It was late. You had heard the doors of the others as they had returned for the night. There wasn’t a second knock. The door opened unanswered and you didn’t need to roll over to see who it was. Steve’s heavy footsteps neared the bed and he huffed as he stared down at you. You stayed still beneath the covers with your back to him.

“There’s a pool on the other side of the palace,” He sat down and the bed dipped beneath him. His thick hand was on your hip, “Hot tub, too. Thought you could use a few laps, soldier.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t move. You just laid there.

“You know the rules,” His voice deepened, “Keep it up soldier and I’ll have you running down the halls.”

“Yes, sir,” Your voice was small as you rolled onto your back. You pushed yourself up carefully as you faced him.

“Why’d you leave so soon today?” He asked as you draped your legs over the edge of the mattress.

You looked at him sharply as you stood. “Are you serious?”

He chuckled and grabbed your arm. He dragged you towards the door as he spoke. “No, I just like watching you squirm.”

“Wait, shouldn’t I get a bathing suit?” You tried to plant your feet but only tripped yourself. He kept you from falling and opened the door with his other hand.

“You won’t need it,” He smirked and pulled you into the hall. The door closed behind you just as swiftly and you were struggling to keep up with his long stride. You were still half asleep. Irritable even.

“Stop,” You tried to wriggle free of him, “I can walk by myself.”

“Oh, are we gonna be mouthy tonight?” He clung to you even tighter as he pulled you onward. “Because I can put that mouth to good use.”

“Just, Jesus Christ, let me just walk,” You planted your heels and were surprised when it drew him to a full stop. “Please.”

He turned and looked you up and down. You were tired and worn out. You just wanted to feel like your body was still your own. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He grabbed your forearm and shoved you ahead of him. “Then walk, soldier.” He ordered as you stumbled.

You righted yourself and pushed your shoulders back as you walked. You weren’t sure where exactly you were going. At the corner, Steve directed you with a single word, “right,” then “left,”; his directions carried on through the halls until you reached a pair of carved door which glowed with an unnatural lustre. “Inside,” He commanded.

You reached out and slid your fingers through the handle and pressed inward. Within was a sparkling pool of water at the centre of the room. There was a lounge area along the far wall with reclining beach chairs and a round table with chairs. At the other end of the pool, was a smaller basin; steam rising from its core. The door closed behind you as Steve followed you inside.

As you stood admiring the ethereal glow set by the windowed ceiling upon the room, two hands rested heavy on your shoulders. “You’re tense,” Steve remarked. You could hear the smirk in his voice. You withheld your dry retort of him being the reason for that and instead lowered your chin. “The steam should loosen you up.”

You drew away from him as you crossed your arms. It was laughable that he should even pretend to care about you. Painful even as you recalled those days when you truly thought he had. How could you have known those years ago that this valiant crusader would become so corrupted?

“I thought we were past this, soldier,” Steve was close again. His hands were on the hem of your shirt. “But I’m always up for a fight.”

You sighed and remained as you were. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Very good,” He pulled your shirt up your torso and you pliantly raised your arms.

The loose tee was easily lifted over your head and he dropped it at his feet. He grabbed the waist of your pajama shorts and you resisted the urge to fold your arms across your bare chest. He tugged the shorts past your thighs and they fell naturally to the floor. You were entirely naked before him; a familiar vulnerability swept over you. The strength left your limbs and you closed your eyes in shame.

“Your turn,” He grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him. You stared up at his dark eyes; they used to be so bright. “Undress me, soldier.”

You reached over numbly and pushed the cotton up his stomach. He stooped to help you get it past his arms and shoulders, the tee discarded with your own. You were eager to be done with the ritual but he caught your hands and placed them on his broad chest. Your palms were pressed to his firm muscles and he held them there. Slowly, he slid your hands down his torso and you struggled not to pull away.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you?” He asked as he stopped your hands at the low belt of his pajamas. He removed his hands and nodded. “Go on.”

You gulped and pulled the elastic past his erection carefully. You bit down as you contemplated letting it snap back at him. That wouldn’t be good. Not for you. You rolled his pajamas past his thighs and let go. They puddled at his feet and he stepped out of them. He pressed his cock to your stomach, “Touch me.”

Your eyes went to his stomach; frozen there as you brought your hand blindly to his cock. You ran your fingers along his length and gripped him firmly. He shuddered and his hand wrapped around yours. He guided you up and down a few times as his breath came in dusky growls.

“Come on,” He pulled your hand away from his cock and clasped it in his. He led you along the polished geometric tile toward the steamy hot tub at the end of the room. He released you and nudged you ahead of him. “Get in.”

You cautiously neared the brim and dipped your toe in. You descended the underwater steps one at a time as the hot water embraced you. Despite your company, it was welcoming. You just wanted to sink under and never emerge from the depths. Your feet met the bottom and you crossed to the ledge which lined the basin’s perimeter. You turned and sat, the water moving noisily around you.

Steve’s eyes were on you, his head lowered in predatory observation. The corner of his mouth twitched and he descended into the tub with a splash. He sat on the bench across from yours and spread his thick arms over the edge of the hot tub. He hung his head back and sighed. Your legs and arms crossed without thought. What was he doing?

“Just relax,” He lifted his head and peeked at you with one eye. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you tried to do as he said. You dropped your arms to your side and set your legs side by side. You stared at him as he just sat there, totally at ease, as if unaware of your presence. Despite the soothing waves of the jets and warmth all around, you just couldn’t relax. The more you watched him the angrier you were. You thought of your conversation with Wanda; of the shame that still burned in your spine. What if someone were to stumble in here with a similar idea as Steve? How would you explained the two of you skinny dipping so late at night?

Your shoulders were just above the water and you peered down at the distorted vision of your body. You turned your hands palm up and tried to trace the warped lines along them. You didn’t feel like a person anymore. This man across from you had made you feel like nothing more than air. You weren’t truly there; a part of you had broken. The same part of him that had fractured, only in a different way.

The water shifted suddenly and you looked up just as Steve pushed through the water. He settled beside you, his arm stretched behind your shoulders. You stiffened and raised your head. You focused on the far wall; willing yourself to drirft away. His hand was on your cheek; his wet fingers left a trail down to your jaw, then your neck, and along your collarbone. His heat added to that of the water as his fingers crawled beneath the surface.

He nuzzled your neck as you fought to stay still. His teeth grazed your throat, tickled even, before he bit down. The sharp twang caused you to grunt and you pushed against his head desperately.

“Stop! Don’t!” You could feel him sucking, your flesh throbbing. He cupped your breast and finally let go. You knew there would be a purple welt left in his stead. You reached up to touch the teeth marks which framed the blemish. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, you’re mine,” He rasped into your skin as he rested his head against your shoulder. He toyed with your breast as he spoke; kneading pinching, and tweaking. “Wanda knows, doesn’t she?” You swallowed but didn’t answer. “But you told her not to do anything, right?” Again, silence. “Right, soldier?”

“Yes, Captain,” You whispered.

“She’ll mind her business if she knows what’s good for her and the robot,” His hand slid down your stomach, “You’ll keep her from doing anything stupid.”

“Yes, Captain,” You gritted out as he pushed between your legs.

“Good,” He pressed two fingers against your clit and held them there. He applied more pressure as he raised his hand and breathed in your ear. “I can feel how wet you are.” He dipped his fingers lower and you felt it too. “It’s all for me, isn’t it, soldier?”

“Y-yes,” You stuttered out as he dragged his fingers back to your clit.

His rough fingertips flicked back and forth and your thighs tingled. His breath was hot on your cheek as he played with you, caressing you gently only to deepen his touch. When you were ready to dissemble, he let off and slowly built you up again. He drew circles this time and you bit your lip as you tried to hide your face from him. His other arm wrapped around you and he pulled you close so that his lips were flush to your temple.

As the tension spiraled around his fingertips, he retreated again and you grunted without thinking. He chuckled, his free hand was on your head as he held you even tighter. “Do you want to cum, soldier?” He asked. “Hmm?”

“I...Yes, Captain,” You said breathily.

“Then ask,” He snarled.

“May I cum...Captain?” You forced out as his fingers kept a delicate pace.

“Mmmm,” He purred, his fingers sped up and you gasped. “Yes, you may, soldier.”

Your back arched as he stirred your nerves and the tensity met a fever pitch. Your hand was on his thigh without thinking, your nails digging into his flesh as you came with a suppressed moan. He didn’t stop until you were shaking against him. You felt so weak; so helpless. Why did your body do this to you? Why did you allow it to?

Steve’s body rippled the water as he moved. He came up in front of you as he spread your legs wide. He lifted you as he brought his knees up onto the bench. He reached down to align himself with your legs splayed around his thick torso. He rubbed his cock along your folds before pushing inside and you sank back against the ledge. He pressed himself to you, your shoulders against the lip of the tub as he impaled you entirely.

You were trapped between him and the wall of the tub. His arm bent behind you as he began to work in and out of you slowly. He bent his head and nuzzled your hair, inhaling you as he picked up his pace. A rush of water added to the whirlwind as you were rested just in front of a jet. You moaned and braced the side of the tub as Steve rutted into you in sharp jolts. His grunts filled your ears as he covered your body with his. You felt as if you were suffocating against him.

Steve thrust deeper and harder into you. The water splashed around him noisily and mixed with the animalistic noises that rose from both of you. Your walls were trembling, clenching around his cock as you came again. Your entire body shook as you were caught in a cluster of delight and detest. He slowed and his motion grew more deliberate.

His pelvis rocked against you in long thrusts and his head dipped down beside yours. He groaned, a gravelly rasp in your ear, and you felt his release. He bottomed out as he spasmed erratically. He leaned against you heavily and stilled, his breaths deep and throaty. You trembled and your heart raced. Your lungs felt as if they were filled with rocks and your body locked up.

“Get off!” It was a thin croak. “Please, get off of me.” You pushed on his shoulders. “Get off!!” Your voice only grew louder as the panic swept over you. “Steve, get off of me!”

He sat back, still inside of you as he caught your hands as you struck out at him. “What the fuck?” He tried to still you but you couldn’t stop. “Get a hold of yourself, soldier.”

“No, no, no,” You twisted your arms away from him. “I can’t--can’t---breathe.” You clutched your chest.

“Shh,” He made to pull out but only pushed back in again. “Let me calm you down.”

“No!” A wave of anger came over you as quickly as the panic.

This time, you didn’t miss. Your fist met with Steve’s jaw and his cock slipped out of you as he staggered. You brought your legs up and kicked him away from you. You struggled to push through the water and evade him but he latched onto you swiftly. You swung around with your elbow and caught him in the mouth. As he stumbled, you shoved him and he caught himself on the edge of the tub. You acted without thinking; you grabbed a hank of his dark hair and bashed his head into the raised lip.

You let go and retreated without looking behind you. He groaned and rolled over so that he was sat limply on the bench. His head lolled and blood ran from his lip and eyebrow. You covered your mouth as you blindly climbed the steps. Slowly his hand came up to hold his battered head. The adrenaline coursed through your veins and you searched around for your clothes. You dressed clumsily as you rushed across the room.

You could hear the water move and you knew he would come after you. You ran to the door and glanced back. Steve gripped the side of the tub as his other hand cradled his head. He was unsteady but not unable. You pulled open the door and dash out into the hallway. Your wet feet clapped on the floor as they echoed away from the pool room; away from Steve.

tags: @meaganottiz02 @patzammit @thepettyavenger @biasedtitties @thosecikinnn @glitterypinkkitty @thoughtlesstales @selinbaskaya @lattaex @vitamingrant @lilithhellfire @bbyspiiice @ironlady1993 @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @letsagomario @shikin83 @collette04 @breezy1415 @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @kxllyxnnx @calspixie @imdiegohargreeves @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-damn-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @secretlyactivated @asleep-amid-the-flowers @sunstarskyhappiness @xxxelettaxxx @honeyofthegods @rainbowkisses31 @alphabloodfur @xdatbitch @quant-um-fizzx @couldntbedamned @scarletlingeries @directionerfae @bodhi-black @kyllorren @captainarp @sargeant-bbarnes @tuyetnhivo @heartislubbingdubbing @kiwihoee @vanishingod @aekr @purpliepanda @arkhamsanity @lazinessisalliknow @grossceleste @fkngparadise @karabear0091 @jordysgirl87 @amelia-acero @praziameia @heartbeats-wildly @tea-with-seb @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @heartislubbingdubbing @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @amelia-acero @marvelmaree

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #dark fic #dark!verse #darkverse #series #insubordination #pulling rank #furlough #misconduct #fic #au #marvel #mcu

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tonysiron · 5 years

Text

The ocean waves rippled, kissing the sand as she drew back and forth in the tide. The salt licked the wooden legs of his chair and the exposed toes of his feet. Occasionally, the ends of his grey sweat pants caught the splashes of the ocean's personal game, the rocking back and forth in between the two figures sat on her beach, and the pull of the sun on the horizon.

"Go Fish." He said into the paw of his hand, staring down at his own cards. Each one had a different cartoon fish, all labeled with both the scientific and normal names of the individual species. It was silly, but he and Morgan used these cards all the time when they played together, and Natasha didn't seem to mind. She smiled, actually.

Nat reached forward, took a card, and then leaned back as she looked at him gently, chewing her peanut butter and jelly sandwhich.

"Do you... have any 6s?" Tony asked. Just as Natasha swallowed and opened her mouth to respond, her gaze shifted over his shoulder. Her eyes softened more, and she closed her mouth, smiling gently.

"Why don't you ask him?"

Tony frowned just slightly, before tensing and turning in his chair, the weight of his movements creaking the wood and sinking it further into the muddy, ocean kissed sand.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, so that's the greeting I get?" Steve asked, walking over from where the ocean crashed into the back of his calves, soaking his sweat pants. He walked gracefully out of the sea, approaching the two and their table of Go Fish, all while Tony stood up and rushed over.

"No, seriously, what the hell? Nat and I have only been here for a week! You cant-What did you do?" He asked, genuine concern lacing through his voice. Hysteria began to roll up his throat as his mind began to play out all the possible options of what Steve could have done.

"I lived. I got that life you told me to get." Steve said softly, pausing just a few short inches in front of Tony, looking down at him gently.

Tony's face screwed up in confusion, concern falling away. "What, in a week?" He questioned.

"No," Steve said softly. "Just 5 seconds."

It took a few moments for that to sink in, and Tony choked up before jerking him forward, holding him tightly.

"How was it?" He asked into Steve's chest.

The waves crashed at their feet, and Tony would have usually stumbled, but Steve kept them steady as he held the smaller man close to him. Tony looked younger, like the weight of the world had never settled on his shoulders, or buried deep in the bags of his eyes. His frown lines had disappeared, and his hair was curly and thick on his head, the darkest brown it had ever been. Steve loved it.

"It was beautiful." He mumbled, and then buried himself deeper in Tony's presence.

"But I missed you. Throughout all of it. I missed you so much. And when Peggy died.... I didn't see much point in staying."

Tony gasped and jerked back. "Steven Grant Rogers, you did not-"

Steve smiled at Tony's immediate reaction, chuckling slightly. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean I left, came back. I... I gave Sam the shield, and.... I met Morgan, Tony." He said gently.

Tony's body language softened immensely, and he smiled. It was more prideful than sad.

"What did you think?" He asked.

"She's a genius, just like you." He said.

Tony began to feel tears well up in his eyes.

"Not that this isn't super cute, or whatever, but I refuse to third wheel until Clint gets his ass dead, so...." Natasha waved her pb&j sandwich in the air, and Steve perked up, grinning at her.

Later that evening, when the tides grew stronger and the ocean swallowed the sun, Steve and Tony found themselves content in sitting in the sand while Natasha did hand stands on the beach, elegantly and gracefully walking her fingers along the mud.

"Why here?" Tony asked, turning his head to Steve.

"Hm?"

"I mean, why with us?" He gestured to Natasha, whose lips curled just slightly. She was eaves dropping, but not making a show of it. Old habits die hard.

"You could have gone anywhere, made peace and rested in a place that reminded you of.... home." Tony said, staring out at the pinking sky.

"Tony... You are my home." He said softly. Tony's eyes widened and he looked back at him, surprised, though Steve kept his gaze on the ocean, smiling contently at the sea.

"Everything always lead back to you. Your future, my new future. The universe could never let me get away."

Tony snorted at that. "I bet you hated it. Sorry," He shrugged. Steve finally looked at him, shaking his head. Tony always deflected, even in death. Of course.

"I cherished every moment, Tony." He said softly.

They two stared at one another, Steve's eyes gentle and full of an ease Tony had never been blessed with, neither in life or even now. The genius flustered and squirmed under his all too caring gaze, and cleared his throat, looking away once again.

"You think Bruce or Thor will ever get here?" He asked. Steve simply shrugged.

"I'd hope so, but Thor and Bruce seem to be-"

"Immortal?"

"Sturdy."

Tony chuckled at that. "Thats what I thought of you, and yet..." He gestured at him and then huffed in fake exasperation.

"Even in death I can't escape your sorry asses."

Steve grinned. "Yeah. You're stuck with us." He said to him.

Tony looked over, and smiled right back.

"Guess I am." He said softly.

Steve continued to stare at him longingly, tilting his head meaningfully.

"I mean, it, you know. You, being my home, being around every corner in my life," He said.

"I couldnt be happier where I ended up, here, with you, Tony."

Tony stared at him and swallowed thickly, before leaning forward and kissing him gently on the mouth.

It was chaste, gentle, and sweet, and when they pulled away they let out a soft breath, chuckling into each other's mouths and resting their foreheads together.

"We're so dumb." Tony blurted, and Steve laughed a little louder, grin spreading wider.

Tony's smile fell slightly. "We could have had something, one upon a time." He said, and then it fell even more. "But now-"

"Now we have all the time in the world, Tony." Steve said, taking his hand.

"Morgan and Pepper will always be the one's. I know that. Peggy will always be mine." Steve said softly, but laced their hands together.

"But Tony, I saw worlds, timelines where you and I fall in love, over and over again." He swallowed.

"Its okay that we never got to do that in life. I'm okay with that, because you had Morgan, and Peggy was my girl. But... now... now I dont see why not." He said gently, and when Tony didnt respond, he swallowed and looked away.

"Or not, you know. Thats okay too."

"Why are you here?"

"I told you-"

"But really, Steve. Why? You could have gone to Peggy, found all your old friends-The Howling Commandos. Why me? Why Natasha? Why the Avengers?"

"Because.." Steve swallowed. "You're my family, and.... and I love you. I never stopped loving you. I love Peggy, I love the Commandos, but you made me have a purpose in the future-"

"Then why did you go back-"

"Because you were dead, Tony!" Steve said, his frustration beginning to erase the gentle ease he had earlier.

"You told me to get a life, and I did. I did everything for you. Everything. Every day I loved Peggy, I thought of you. Every evening I spent out, laughing, making new memories, I thought of you. I told myself that it was all okay, that everything was okay, because I was happy. But you don't understand what its like to live with survivor guilt, Tony-"

"I know exactly what thats like-!"

"Do you, do you really?" Steve asked, eyes glistening.

"I missed you. Every day. More than I even realized I could. I cherished every moment of seeing you in the news, becoming the man you were destined to be. Tony Stark, I love you. Unbelievably so." He said, but then stood.

"If you want me to go, then I will. For the rest of time, you never have to see me again. I can leave, if thats what you want." He said a bit hoarsely, and stared out into the ocean.

A moment's pause passed between them, and Tony stood in the sand, before stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder, because who was he to take away Steve's heaven? Nobody just decides to spend the rest of eternity with their bestie on a whim. Steve wanted to be here. Steve chose to be here.

"I'm sorry..." He wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for, though. Perhaps it was making Steve blow up, or maybe for haunting Steve's life that was supposed to be happy.

Steve relaxed under his hand, and turned to him, smiling weakly.

"Stay." Tony said, pushing Steve's shoulder so they could face each other.

"Stay. With me. Please." He said softly, stepping close.

"Do you want me to?" Steve asked, looking at his feet.

"I do." Tony said, taking his fingers in his. Both of their hands were soft, rid of callouses.

"Is it true?" Tony asked. "That you saw us, falling in love?" He said gently. Steve nodded, stepping forward and placing his hands on Tony's waist. Tony's own went to his jawline, carresing his cheeks.

"Well then, I refuse to waste any more time." He said gently, eyes fluttering slightly as he leaned forward.

"Sweetheart," Steve breathed, lips brushing his. "We have an eternity of time."

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romancingromanoff · 5 years

Text

Dream at Dusk Part 1/? Ofc x Cullen Family

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for almost two months or so but I’ve literally had to move my entire life across the world to another continent I’d never stepped foot on until now. To celebrate breaking my leave of absence, here’s an extended first chapter of the Twilight universe fic I mentioned earlier. I began writing this three or four years ago and I haven’t changed any of the content so I’m not completely happy with the style but I have a lot of plans for this story and can’t wait to develop it into what is possibly a collection of fanfics.

Basically, this story takes place in the Twilight universe pre-Bella moving to Forks (though that will come up very soon) when a newborn vampire named Maggie who is a young teenager stumbles across the Cullen Clan. There’s nothing romantic or sexual in the plot (yet, hehe but I’ve been waiting for YEARS to set this character up with one of the Denali girls) and it’s more focused on the family bonding esp. the mother-daughter relationship between the main character and Esme.

Oh, also, new Nat fic coming out soon.

Maggie

Two things ran through Maggie’s mind when she came across the house in the woods. Number one: She was scared that she would catch someone’s scent and so she planned to turn around and run. Number two: She couldn’t stop wondering what kind of job the owner of the house had. Were they an heir to a family company? A part of the mafia? Lottery winner? But the longer she stayed to admire the architecture of the serene, modern home with the perfect location in the middle of the woods, she began to realize that its residents weren’t exactly normal people.

She flinched when her eyes landed on what could only be human hair. Her body automatically engaged itself to pounce although in her mind she begged that she’d have the strength to pull away and send herself running in the opposite direction. However, she found that she didn’t need to. Even though she had recently obtained perfect sight, she rubbed her eyes as if she were in a trance before taking another look at the woman inside the house. She had the most beautiful and voluptuous brunette curls that framed her kind face so well and a soft smile that seemed to soothe Maggie’s nerves even while she was scrambling to figure out what was going on.

The problem was that there was no smell. There was absolutely no scent of blood.

At first, Maggie instinctively grabbed her neck trying to feel if it was still sensitive from the primal urge to drink. She secretly hoped that her newfound affliction had simply run out its course, but was disappointed to find the cravings inside of her still burned all throughout her throat. Then, examining the woman even closer, she noticed something strangely off about her appearance. I mean of course she was absolutely stunning and Maggie thought she looked like an angel, but then she started to wonder if the woman happened to look a little too perfect to be real.

Maggie knew she should be going, but was too caught up in her fascination with this person and how dream-like she appeared. There wasn’t a blemish on her skin which was, coincidentally, exactly what Maggie had first noticed when she had woken up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Other things like her absolute perfect posture and unnatural grace and poise also gave it away too. She must’ve been like Maggie. But then she was caught in the light of those piercing golden eyes.

Maggie carefully unzipped her backpack, which held the last of her possessions, and took out the compact mirror that was shaped like a purple seashell. She smiled briefly looking at it, remembering what few happy memories from her childhood that it carried, before opening it to check her own face. But it was just as she suspected: Red eyes.

The sound of the front door opening caused her to slam her mirror shut so fast she almost would’ve broken the glass were it not for her dangerously keen precision. She counted one, two, three bodies as they left out the front door and began walking in her direction. There was still no smell of human blood for miles which also explained how the three figures seemed to surround the base of the tree she was perched in so quickly.

There was probably no point in running for Maggie. She figured that if these folk were much more of the..... experienced type (just based on how sophisticated and settled their lifestyle was compared to hers) then they could easily chase her down pretty swiftly. So she opted to remain as quiet and still as possible and foolishly clung to the hope that they might not have noticed her yet.

“Good evening,” the sound of one of the male figures confirmed that she had, indeed, been spotted. She winced back instinctively at first but then unclenched her tightened muscles as she started realize that his tone wasn’t hostile. “My name is Carlisle Cullen and these are two of my children. We live in the house just nearby that you must have seen. We’d be happy to host you there and offer you shelter and a shower.”

Maggie certainly wasn’t the expert on her species, but didn’t assume that they would be the type to live in packs just based off of how the media portrayed them. Weren’t they supposed to dwell all alone in the ruins of ancient castles and sleep in festering coffins? This man had used the word “family” however, as if there was some type of normalcy to them. It certainly intrigued the young girl but she also made sure to take precaution with such information. They might have been trying to lure her down after all.

“Carlisle, I don’t think she...” the sad, shorter brown haired male mumbled to who must have been the groups leader.

“We’re different too. Just like you,” the littlest of them, a rather small brunette with a pixie cut who almost looked as small as Maggie herself, chimed in grabbing at her curiosity once again. “I know it’s pretty crazy and a lot to take in but we can help answer all of your questions.”

As tempting as the prospect seemed, Maggie stood her ground. She might have been young but it wasn’t like she was born yesterday, right?

A chuckle broke from down below and it seemed like the gloomy one was laughing at her for some reason, yet she hadn’t said anything! “I’m sorry,” he then apologized. “My name is Edward. Edward Cullen. Might I ask what yours is?”

The two syllables rested just on the tips of the poor girl’s lips but she didn’t dare speak. Strangely, it didn’t seem to matter because he already knew her name.

“Her name’s Maggie,” she heard him speak before the female of the group suddenly got super still, the name triggering her. Even compared to the other two she was distinctively paler all of a sudden and looked to be completely frozen from what Maggie could tell.

“Alice, what do you see?” Edward gently rested his hand on her shoulder almost as if he was nudging her back into consciousness.

“S-She was one of us,” her voice had gotten ten times more quiet and it wavered in the harsh winds that surrounded Maggie up in the trees so that she couldn’t hear the next few words that were said. All she could see was Alice speaking before Carlisle’s mouth moved as if he were asking her a question. “And Esme… Esme! We need to get Esme right now! Edward, go!”

He was gone before the last few words had left her mouth, leaving Maggie alone with the other two down below her. If he had run back to fetch someone else then now was probably the best chance she had of slipping out of there before she would be even more outnumbered. Desperate but unsure of herself, Maggie hesitated to make the jump over to the next tree. Even though she felt like she could make it, she didn’t want to overestimate her abilities and risk falling.

“Make a decision. Go. Now! No, don’t! Not there!” Her mind raced as she kept prepping to jump before psyching herself out. After only a few failed attempts at that she could hear two more figures running back towards her. It was too late.

The only expendable plan she had left was to climb as high as she could to the very top of the tree. Maggie felt like her heart should be in her throat by now but still managed to map out a route she could take through the branches as she looked up in despair. She was just about to reach her hand out and begin her ascent when a new voice stopped her.

“The poor thing, she looks scared to death. Edward, you should have just let her introduce herself when she felt ready. Just imagine what kind of crazy conclusions she could have come to with you vocalizing what you read so openly. She must be terrified!” The voice flowed so musically that it almost made her words sound like music. To Maggie’s surprise, it was coming from the same woman she had seen in the window. For some reason, that almost made her worries evaporate up and into the clouds far beyond the tree tops that she was know reconsidering escaping to.

“Sorry, Esme.”

Then, she spoke again. And each word seemed to pull Maggie down closer and closer to meet her. “I apologize that my family frightened you. I’m Esme Cullen. Would you mind telling me your name? I spotted you earlier from my window and was sad to see you run off so soon and before I could get to know you.”

How could she sound so genuine and non-threatening that it seemed to relieve Maggie of all of her normal suspicions? She had never trusted anybody and certainly not just upon meeting them, but something in her gentle voice and soft, encouraging smile soothed over whatever fears she had.

“Maggie. Just Maggie…”

Her eyes seemed to light up when she finally answered. “Well, Maggie, that’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I’d love for you to come down so we could talk more. It wouldn’t have to be with anyone else either, just me and you if that’s more comfortable.”

Almost as if on cue, the two men immediately raced off back to the house to leave them alone. The little one, Alice, shuffled behind for a little while with an obvious look of concern on her face. Esme merely gave her an affirming nod before the small brunette gave a pleasant wave to Maggie before zooming off after the others.

Timidly making her way down the tree, Maggie tried to move with a bit of haste while still being as careful as possible not to loose her footing during the descent. She didn’t want to be rude and keep the kind lady waiting for her so she eventually sped up to a speed a little past her usual comfort zone and was soon greeted by the familiar feeling of the ground underneath her feet as well. She turned to find that she was even more beautiful up close and that she hadn’t been wrong thinking that the woman would radiate a sense of happiness all around her.

“Hi, I’m Esme,” she stuck out her hand accompanied by a big smile. Esme was, of course, by nature a hugger but didn’t want to make the young girl uncomfortable if she didn’t like much physical contact. A flash of nervousness in her eyes seemed to prove her right, but eventually she slowly reached out her hand to meet hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Taking a minute to study her face, Maggie was surprised to see that Esme’s facial expression remained pleasantly calm as a reaction. She seemed to completely understand Maggie’s reason for staring and wasn’t offended in the slightest like Maggie feared she might have been.

“You’re... like me... aren’t you?” she struggled to find the right words but was grateful Esme knew what she meant.

“Yes, I am,” she smiled in response. “And I’m sure you have lots of questions. I certainly did when Carlisle changed me.”

The mentioning of the man with the golden hair made something click in Maggie’s mind. When he had spoken of his family, she assumed he must’ve been the father-figure then. That would make Esme the wife and mother.

Mother.

“So, you two are together? And the others are your children? But not due to biology but because he changed all of you?”

“Well, yes, yes, and sort of,” she replied with a small chuckle at how quick the young one was to connect the dots. “You picked that up rather quickly, huh? Yes, Carlisle changed Edward to save him from death but soon found him to be a comforting companion to help fill a sense of emptiness that he had carried with him from being lonely for so long. Not too long after that, he did the same with me. I just happened to be the one to fall in love with him.”

“When was this?”

“Hmm,” Esme had to take a moment to think about the question. In many ways she felt that she had known Carlisle for thousands of lifetimes and couldn’t think of how to express their relationship in terms of relative time, which had seemed so insignificant after all these years. “I suppose it was 90 years ago or so but I remember it all like it was yesterday.”

Esme carefully mirrored Maggie’s cautious pace as she began to slow down. She watched with curiosity as a sense of contemplation overtook the girl who had suddenly become engrossed with her surroundings. Her eyes caught on everything up above them as she studied the details of each tree in the forest amongst the sea of dark, heavy green.

“I used to think it was impossible for any other living thing to be as old as the trees,” she said almost dazed by her own realization as it was dawning upon her just as she spoke. “But I guess I was wrong…” Then with an abrupt halt her entire demeanor changed as the concept of immortality seemed to sink in. To Maggie, it seemed more like a curse the more and more she felt the burning in her throat grow. “I don’t think I can live like this forever. It’s been a week, maybe, and I don’t want to hurt anybody so I’ve been avoiding people but it just keeps getting worse.”

Esme instinctively went to wrap her arm around her shoulders which she was then glad didn’t make her run away. She could tell she was definitely a newborn but hadn’t realized she’d been denying her own thirst since she’d awoken. It amazed her thinking of the strength and discipline that this young child had in her. “You don’t have to live that way or either of those ways, Maggie. My family and I only hunt animals and for the most part it allows us to interact fairly normally in human society. We can show you.”

“Animal blood?” Maggie’s eyes quickly darkened at the mere realization that there was another, viable food source for her. She didn’t really care what it was and all she knew was that she craved it.

“Here, let me show you,” Esme smiled as she unwrapped herself from holding her (which strangely left Maggie feeling somewhat empty) and offered her her hand. With very little need for time to make her decision, Maggie gladly reached for her and the older vampire went running off.

With a full belly and a new friend making her day much better than she expected, Maggie was much more easily coaxed into the Cullen house with how relaxed she now was. The promise of a shower also didn’t hurt. As expected, she was a bit shy and kept her greetings quite short with the others (especially Emmett and Rosalie who she hadn’t met yet) but felt this weird sense of calmness wash over and soothe her when being introduced to Jasper. She allowed herself to indulge in the glorious feeling of hot, clean water and took the opportunity to scrub herself down three times. After running around in the woods for days trying to avoid civilization, she certainly felt gross in her muddied skin and was glad to wash it off.

After rinsing out her hair and wrapping the towel around her body, she was surprised to step out of the bathroom and find a fresh new outfit of clothes laying out for her on the bed. She had overheard Alice trying to pick out a dress for her while she was in the bathroom, but was glad to see that she had gone for a simple pair of sweatpants and a warm hoodie instead. Maggie wanted nothing more than to snuggle up in some zipperless, fleece lined pants and be able to pull her sweatshirt sleeves over her hands. Not only was it extremely comfortable and an anxiety-soother for her, but she was also too scared to touch anything in the house. Everything from the intricately designed wallpapers to the delicate china vases looked way to expensive for her to accidentally ruin with her fingerprint smudges, or worse, by breaking them. Her new sense of strength was something she had yet to learn to control.

“Maggie,” she heard Esme’s voice carry from downstairs out and up through the airy halls. “Come join us we’re just in the family room.”

Carefully peeking around the corner of the steps, Maggie was met with the sight of all of the Cullens spread out and around the wide room which was beautifully decorated to no surprise. Edward was sitting at a baby grand piano and tried to offer as best as a smile as he could. Rosalie was the furthest away, standing next to the wall covered in bookshelves and though she wore a tight, slightly intimidating expression on her face, Maggie could have sworn she was trying to smile through the entire affair which surprised her. The tall, curt blonde didn’t appear to be the most open and accepting of strangers, but then again, neither was Maggie. They weirdly seemed to see eye to eye as they both judged the other from a safe distance.

Alice was giggling gleefully as she swung her arm by her side that was also holding onto Jasper’s hand. They were standing just behind a loveseat that was currently occupied by Emmett who had looked up with a giant grin on his face to wave at Maggie. Directly across from them was a longer couch where Carlisle and Esme sat side by side, his arm gently wrapped around her. It was unorthodox to say the least, but Maggie couldn’t help but think they really did look like one happy family.

“Sit,” Esme patted the space next to her on the couch. As she took her place, she noticed Rosalie and Edward began to circle around the rest of the group slowly approaching her. It weirdly felt like they were studying her which itched that certain bone in her body that always kept her uncomfortably alert in wary situations. Maggie recognized suspicion in another person’s eyes when she saw it. The only difference between her and Rosalie (besides the fact that she seemed to be the goddess of supermodels) was that Maggie didn’t have nearly as much self-confidence as the much taller, strikingly bold woman. She felt small compared to her. Edward just seemed to know much more than he was letting on, which had Maggie quite nervous too: Like how he knew her name in the woods.

“It’s been quite a while since we’ve had a newborn join us,” Carlisle spoke.

“A newborn? Like a newborn vampire?”

“Exactly, I told you she was very bright,” Esme gently nudged Carlisle next to her as she wore a proud smile on her face. It almost made goosebumps crawl across Maggie’s skin she felt so flattered.

“Within the first year of being turned, newborns are able to summon great power from the blood that still lingers in their veins. It makes them even stronger and faster than older vampires.”

“But not stronger than me,” Emmett cut in which made everyone chuckle.

“However, it’s also the hardest to control your thirst during the first year,” Carlisle continued.

“Maggie, when were you turned? Do you remember anything at all?” Edward asked the question they were all thinking of. It made a deep pain form in the middle of her chest.

“Maggie,” Esme instinctively took the young girl’s hands into her own to which Maggie made no protests. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. We all understand how painful this is to go through.”

“It’s okay,” Maggie said so soon it even surprised herself. “I remember him clearly though he wasn’t a nice man… not in the slightest.”

If it were possible for tears to form in Alice’s eyes, Maggie would’ve sworn that she could see her tearing up across from her. Jasper also gave Alice some comforting rubs which left Maggie to think her story must’ve been all to familiar for the usually perky person.

“He said he wanted my gift,” she pressed her two lips together just remembering how his icy voice made her hair stick straight up. “When I woke up he had already tied me down with some chains but somehow I was able to break free and just barely outrun him…. And I’ve been running ever since just trying to keep away from people until I ran into you all. I think today is the fourth night for me.”

“Where are you from?” Alice inquired, curious to know exactly how much ground she’d covered during that time.

“Originally? I don’t know. But my orphanage was in New York, not the city though. A small town between Albany and Utica. I’ve basically lived there all my life.” Silence.

“This gift… did he say what it was? Or how did he know that you would be gifted as a vampire?” Jasper was still hung up on that small detail that had suspicion written all over it to him. After all he had experienced he easily recognized a puppet-master playing vampire at work.

With everything that had happened to her in the past week or so that tiny bit of information had simply been one decodable mystery amongst the countless others; it hadn’t occurred to her what he could have possibly meant. But now here she was with the Cullens, who had promised her answers, yet they seemed just as confused as she did. She gave herself a mental slap on the head for not remembering that detail earlier.

“I’m not sure,” she frowned, disappointed that her mind was immediately rendered useless as the familiar feeling of numbness right behind her eyes left her confused and unable to process words. “It’s fuzzy for some reason…. Could I sleep on it?”

Being a vampire took away the physiological function of blinking, but Esme couldn’t help but do so in that moment as she was staring blankly at the girl’s face.

“Maggie, we don’t… We don’t sleep.”

“Ever?” Her voice wavered, dropping down to a soft whisper.

“No, we don’t need to. We don’t get tired, sweetheart.”

It was a good thing that she was already seated on the couch because she immediately fell backwards, quite figuratively and literally, into a deep sleep.

#fanfic #twilight #twilightuniverse #Cullen family #cullen clan #ofc #vampire #newborn #esme cullen #Carlisle cullen #Edward cullen #Alice cullen #Emmett cullen #Rosalie cullen #Rosalie Hale #Jasper Cullen #Jasper Hale #imagines

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fallout4holmes · 5 years

Text

Journal 44

A return to business as usual was interrupted by Danse contacting me. I presumed at first he would have opinions regarding the recent attack on Jamaica Plain - Gunners, though they retreated and haven't been seen in the area since - but my friend surprised me. He wanted to remind me of my promise to Billy Peabody that he would meet other children.

Jamaica Plain would have been an ideal location, but with the recent attack, Danse suggested The Castle as an alternative. Ms. Shaw might not care for children running around her fort, but it would be a goodwill symbol and the children would be impressed. Most importantly, it's safe.

I agreed, and sent word to the Peabodys, MacCready, and every other family I've met who have a child. The invitation was extended to all the children of Diamond City as well, though I didn't expect much of a response. The Castle may be safe, but the journey through Boston is not, and so Valentine and I found ourselves escorting only our son and Nat Wright. Piper joined us, and Dogmeat of course.

MacCready and Duncan were there, and late in the day came Matt Peabody and Billy. Roger Warwick and his son Wally also made the trip north, which I was particularly glad to see since they live the closest to the Peabodys. Mr. Warwick was a bit… startled, to meet my partner. There was a clear moment of fear at seeing a second generation synth for the first time in a year, and he didn't bother to hide his confusion when Valentine spoke to him.

“Don't worry, friend, the Institute and I weren't on speaking terms even before they were blown up. I'm a prototype. I got out.”

Warwick processed this and shook Valentine's hand. “Then I'm pleased to meet you. Ah. Has Holmes told you -”

“About you?” Valentine grinned, “Secret's safe with me, don't worry. Did you meet Matt? You two are practically neighbors, or would be if there wasn't a factory full of super mutants in the way.”

That was something of an exaggeration, but Mr. Warwick and Mr. Peabody immediately set to discussing trade while I introduced MacCready to Ms. Shaw. He's made it perfectly clear that he's not a Minuteman, yet, he's only working for us. Shaw found that simultaneously annoying and amusing, but welcomed the help. Piper started interviewing the Minutemen stationed at the Castle about the success of the Minutemen and the history of the location. They humored her, though she did manage to strike up an in-depth conversation with one who once lived in Diamond City as a very young girl.

The children, for their part, hit it off instantly. Shaun showed no hesitation beyond a quick, “wow!” when introduced to Billy. Given that one of his fathers is mechanical, it's no surprise that physical appearance means little to him. Nat and Duncan followed their friend's lead, and Wally, not wanting to be left out, joined in the fun. They started with tag outside the door under the watchful eye of Dogmeat. The Minutemen on guard were there as well of course, but they had their duties to attend.

Some Minutemen thought this event was simply the General performing a public relations stunt; others thought it was good for kids to see what the Minutemen are like up close, in case they ever need them or want to join. A few Minutemen even started trying to come up with a way to safely transport more people here. Stealing a Brotherhood vertibird was floated as a possibility, but I silenced that with a glance. “Just a joke, General.”

I smiled, “How would you fly it if you did manage to steal one?”

They frowned, and went back to brainstorming.

The day went very well, a chill night wind sending the children inside. The children and their families shared space in the barracks overnight, and in the morning it was time for everyone to return home. Billy was effusive in his thanks, and told me to thank “Mr. Danse” as well. Mr. Peabody echoed the sentiment. I told them I would, and they headed south with the Warwicks.

MacCready and Duncan followed us west. When Piper found out MacCready is from the Capital Wasteland, her questions didn't stop until we parted ways. MacCready, clearly attempting to flirt, was more than happy to answer until it was time for he and Duncan to move further north.

After our safe return home, life finally returned to its usual routine - as much of a routine as a private detective in a post-apocalyptic wasteland can have. Much like before the war, there are always people who need help. Unfortunately, also as it was before the War, many of their problems are dull. Valentine would scold me for referring to them as such, but that is the best description. Now that I’ve grasped the finer points of life in this century, now that I can distinguish a scavver from a trader from a farmer by the patterns of mud on their knees, much of the mystery of the world is vanishing. It’s difficult to keep myself occupied.

And so it was that one afternoon Valentine came home from the office to find out why I hadn’t joined him there yet. He found me lying on the sofa with an arm draped across my face. He spoke to Codsworth in the hall, as if that would be far enough for me not to know what they were talking about, and strolled over to me.

“Any way I can help?” he asked.

“Murder someone and do a marvelous job hiding the evidence.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, “How about something less gruesome?”

“Burglary, blackmail, anything. As long as it’s stimulating.”

“Mhm. Here, move your legs… alright, I’ll move them for you.” My legs were suddenly pushed over the side as Valentine sat down, resulting in my body shaped like an ‘L’. “Now sit up.” I did not. He sighed, “Come on, Holmes, what’s wrong?”

“Depression triggered by the futility of a banal existence,” I answered flatly.

I heard the strike of a match as he lit a cigarette, “I sure hope existential ennui isn’t hereditary.” I scoffed at his attempt at humor before realizing he might have been in earnest. “Codsworth told me you haven’t eaten today. At all.”

“Food. What appeal could that possibly hold?”

“At the very least, it’ll help keep the folks who love you from worrying so much. You gonna be lying here like this when Shaun gets home from school?”

“Possibly.” I fully recognize I was being petulant now, but at the time I only knew I was bored.

Valentine smoked in silence for a few moments. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

The question was so outlandish I brought my arm down from my face, “What?”

He tried not to grin at his miniscule success at gaining my interest, “Rumor has it that the old Museum of Witchcraft up in Salem is haunted.”

I frowned, “Valentine, my feet remain firmly in the realm of reality, no matter my mental state. Ghosts need not apply.”

“They do when the alternative is this,” he gestured to my position. “I’m getting you out of the house, and away from any potential, uh, temptations.”

I was annoyed, “I haven’t taken anything.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

He wasn’t accusing, there was no malice or judgement in his voice, just a simple fact and all the consequences it implied. I would have been remarkably irritated if he didn’t love me so much. “Salem is at least a two day walk,” was my rather pathetic attempt at argument.

He laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

The outside of the museum resembles a Gothic style church, as fitting a setting as any. The main door to the building was chained shut, so we searched for another way in. Near the cellar door on the side lay the body of a Gunner, torn apart. Quite literally.

“Goodness,” Valentine muttered as I inspected the remains. “What do you think got her?”

“This might shed some light on the matter,” I said as I held up a holotape. The Gunner had been recording when she was killed. I played it on my Pip-Boy, and listened to this Private Hart speak to her commanding officer about hauling luggage from Lynn Woods for a robot butler named Wellingham.

“Wellingham?!” Valentine was shocked. Wellingham, I recalled, is the name of the Mr. Handy that works at an Upper Stands taphouse in Diamond City. “What the hell sort of business does that bartending bot have with Gunners?”

The tape continued, revealing the Gunners were being pursued by… something. Whatever it was, it was enough to have the commander in a mild panic. Everyone hurried inside the museum… except Private Hart, who was caught before she even knew what she was supposed to be running from.

A cold wind rattled the dead leaves on the trees and ground. “We goin’ in?” Valentine asked.

“My dear Valentine, this excursion was your suggestion. We would be remiss to turn back without investigating the ‘haunting.’”

“Thought you’d say that,” my partner grumbled and readied his gun. Together we descended into the basement.

We found the body of the commanding officer dismembered and beheaded on the floor, two of his squad in similar state close by. Something very large moved across the floorboards above our head. “Well, I don't think it's a mole rat,” Valentine softly muttered.

“Indeed.” I started to move toward the stair up to the main floor, the light of my Pip-Boy casting them in eerie green. The body of a dead Gunner hung through a gap in the dilapidated boards overhead. We froze as something pulled it out of sight.

“My god,” Valentine's voice betrayed a trace of fear. I couldn't blame him as a chill went down my own spine.

We could have turned back, but now I was curious. We crept up the stairs and entered the museum. The main floor of the building had been demolished, with little to indicate that once it had held any sort of exhibits or historical value. A low growl came from the back of the room as we hurried across the front, a massive scaled shape roaming the debris, its horned head turning as if looking for something.

We ran through the next doorway. “Front door’s chained shut,” Valentine whispered, “and getting that rusted lock off’s gonna make a lot of racket… what on earth?”

We’d stumbled upon a Gunner corpse in the museum’s bathroom. Scattered among his remains were gigantic eggs, their shells cracked or crushed. The man’s log provided an explanation - the Gunners were hired by Wellingham to bring him a nest of deathclaw eggs. The senior officers knew the mission, but the men, this sergeant and the private dead outside, and likely every other corpse in the building, had no idea what they were carrying.

I spotted a single undamaged egg and carefully picked it up.

“Letting a deathclaw see you carrying her egg ain’t the best idea,” Valentine muttered as he kept watch out the door.

“I have no intention of letting her. The nest is somewhere near Lynn Woods. We’ll have to make quick work of that chain on the door, or sneak out past -”

“Partner, I gotta admit, exactly how we’re gonna find a deathclaw nest without getting ripped apart escapes me.”

He had a point. “Still, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that glorified liquor cabinet use this to feed his pampered customers.”

“Ah, spite. Few motivations are so great.”

“You think this is insane.”

“Nope. I always like the idea of returning stolen goods. Hey, now’s our chance. Let’s move.”

We managed to escape that place without drawing the deathclaw’s attention and headed for Lynn Woods. “You are certain you want to come with me to return this egg?”

“I'd rather it be me doing the returning, simply because I probably won't die if a deathclaw rips my arms off, but the idea's a good one. It's not easy to do the right thing for something that seems so evil, but everyone deserves their fair shot.”

His sincerity brought me up short. “Mr. Valentine, sometimes you are astounding,” I said with full affection.

He was amused, “Not bad yourself, Mr. Holmes.”

“I'm perfectly serious. The amount of compassion you maintain in the face of this world is nothing short of incredible.”

“Ain't always the case,” he cautioned, “and my patience for folks gets pretty short when they waste their chance to do good.”

“Be as humble as you like, I stand by my statement.”

He laughed, “God forbid I argue with your ridiculously high opinion of me.” His hand briefly brushed my lower back, “Come on, let's get that egg back to the nest.”

Having left the presumed mother of the eggs in Salem, it was something of a surprise when the other parent stepped out of the darkness as we crept toward the nest. We froze, the egg in my outstretched hands. It growled, but didn’t attack.

“Think it knows what we're trying to do?” Valentine whispered.

“I don't want to stay to find out,” I muttered, and gently put the egg in the pile of vegetation and dirt. The deathclaw took a single step forward as we slowly backed away, watching our retreat until we were willing to attempt turning tail and running as fast as we could away from that place.

“You know Holmes,” Valentine joked, “I think ‘no ghost stories’ might be a good company policy after all.”

#fallout 4 #fan fiction #nick valentine #the minutemen #sherlock holmes #crossover

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golden-pickaxe · 6 years

Text

Odal - Part 10

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Viking Times

Word Count: 2138

Warnings: none

[All Parts Here]

A/N: This part wrote itself rather quickly. Enjoy! Also, if I ever make a reference or something you don’t understand, feel free to ask!

[Playlist] - Especially this song for this chapter: Drømde mik en drøm i nat

This song is the oldest Norse/Germanic song ever found, and currently stuck in my head.

Summary: When you were just a child, you had been adopted by two shieldmaidens, as one of six sisters. Now, all grown up, the lot of you join king Harald to avenge the death of Ragnar in England. A journey, that is going to change the life you’ve known before.

Tags: @lightningwitcher @lovelynerdytraveler @everlasting9 @cbouvier23 @hallowed-heathen @twilight-loveer

You had only been a child, just a few years after Thora and Ragnhild had found you at the side of your dying mother, when one warm night in late summer, you were on your way back home. The sun had already set, as the days grew shorter again, and the moon was high in the sky.

During one of your many excursions into the woods surrounding your small farm, you had stumbled upon a large, beautiful apple tree, full of ripe fruit, green and red, ready to be picked.

You had come back to it the next day, spending from morning until dawn climbing the tree, and gathering the most beautiful of the apples in a large basket, you had brought with you.

You had filled it to the brim, and then carried the large and heavy basket back home, walking over the open fields towards the distant lights of your family’s farm house, sweat covering your forehead. You had not told anyone about the tree, wanting to surprise them, and were very proud of what you had achieved.

Your arms were aching from the heavy weight of the fruit you were carrying, and your knees and elbows were scraped from falling off the large tree a couple of times. You had to stop every now and so often, breathing and putting down the basket, causing your way home to be way longer than expected.

But you did not give up, picking up your basket every time, walking on further and further, even if you had to stop again to gather your strength.

You had arrived home, where your worried mothers had stayed up waiting, Thora hugging your tightly while you told her excitedly about the beautiful tree you had found, as tall as Yggdrasil itself, you had said, and showed her all the fruit you had picked.

Your mothers had indeed been very proud of you, even if they scolded you for not telling them where you were going, but brought your harvest into the house, promising you to go back to the tree the next day, to pick the rest of the apples together with your sisters.

Together with Ragnhild and Hallgrim, you had stored the apples in a secure place in the barn, where they had riped and lasted until Yule, where you had eaten the last of them cooked, with some sweet honey, before your family had made their way to Vestfold, to attend the grand Yuleblót.

It was a good memory, one of your favourites. It was one of the first things you had truly achieved on your own, without the help of your mothers or your sisters. Yes, you loved them dearly, all of them, but sometimes you needed to do things on your own, to prove yourself, to prove to them, that you were able to be the woman you wanted to be. Strong and not dependant on anyone.

This, you thought, was just like back then. At least that was what you told yourself, as you walked closely behind Ivar’s chariot, behind the other four princes of Kattegat, a good way in front of your sisters. Of course Hrafna was with Halfdan, who walked a bit behind his own brother, and the rest of the family was with Hrafnkell and his men, who were in turn not all too far behind them. But still, it felt.. odd. You had never walked away from your family while at war.

They had not been angry with you, when you had told them about Ivar’s request this morning, or rather his demand, but in contrary, seemed to be happy for this great opportunity for you. It was not everyday, of course, that a prince asked you to walk right at the front of his army.

Though she was happy for you, Asta was still a bit suspicious. She was not sure what to think of the youngest Ragnarsson, who seemed brilliant, yet cruel, and did not really trust him. She too had heard the stories about him, the rumours, and she was not reassured by the thought that he only seemed to want you to fight along side him.

“Be careful, little one. The princes have a certain reputation, and Boneless has the worst of all of them.” She had said, squeezing your arm once more, before she had departed from you as the great army had started their journey once again, this time towards king Ecbert’s villa.

Now, a few hours later as you walked onwards, watching the back of Ivar’s head, you were not really sure what to think of him. Yesterday, after your toast, you had resumed to talk with him, mostly about what was ahead of you and what you had seen in England so far. Ivar seemed to detest the Christians even more than you, them and their false preaching of peace, while they killed everyone who disagreed with them.

It had been.. nice.. to simply talk, and to compare this land to your homeland. Ivar had even taught you a few words of the English language, which was, now that you had heard it like that, not all too different from your own tongue.

Ivar had also asked about your home, and how you lived, how it came to be that you and your sisters looked nothing alike.

“Adopted?” he had asked, a bit shocked, when you told him how your two mothers had found each of you, before telling you about Floki’s adopted daughter, whom his wife had kidnapped from a country far, far away.

“None of us was kidnapped. We were all lost, and Ragnhild and Thora have found us, and given us a home.” You explained with a smile, causing Ivar to tilt his head at you.

“And you love each other? Though you are not blood?” he frowned.

“More than anything. I think love by choice, is stronger than love by blood.” You looked down at your empty cup.

Ivar had not answered to that, only mustering your face.

The anger that was usually burning from his blue eyes had almost vanished, his manner and expression open and so different from what you were used when he was with his brothers. His usual demeaner returned, however, when the rain had finally broken out of the heavy clouds above you, abruptly ending your comfortable conversation.

Since then, you had not really talked to him, and he seemed to be rather distracted by leading the army, not having any time to deal with you. Which was, quite obviously, completely understandable, but still, you caught yourself missing his attention already.

His eyes, and his soft voice when he talked to you, were strangely soothing, and despite all the stories and rumours about him, knowing how many of the men around him feared him, you could not bring yourself to be afraid.

According to the scouts Bjorn had sent forward, you were only a few days travel away from king Ecbert’s villa, and the warriors around you were all very anxious about this one, probably final battle you were to face. Of course, now the thought of what would come after, came up in everyone’s mind, and across the army there were a lot of different opinions about it.

Would you all just go back home, your deed done, vengeance taken? Or would you stay and occupy the English soil, now hat you had killed the kings of the country?

If you were honest with yourself, now that you had quite literally licked the blood of war and battle, the thought of simply returning home to your little farm was not as pleasing to you as you would have thought it to be. Of course, you missed your mothers, and your home, but on the other hand, having nothing more than the life of a farmer to look forward to, made you want to extend this raid as long as possible.

Hallgrim, on the other hand, made no secret out of the fact that she wanted to be back at the farm as soon as she could. Seeing to her animals, preparing everything for the winter, and helping with the harvest.. she was not an ambitious woman, she was truly a farmer through and through, and she was happy with that kind of life. Gudrun sometimes said that her Norns were surly dwarves, considering her seemingly boring fate, but got punched by her sister every time she heard it.

Hrafna had only implied that she intended to stay with Halfdan, whom she seemed to truly love. From what you could see, he was equally infuriated by her, looking at her as if the fierce woman was made out of silver and gold. It felt a bit weird to you, that of all of your sisters it was her who had found love first, and who would be the first one to leave your family, to probably marry and start a life of her own.

She had never been the type of person who would settle down with a family, that was more Gudrun’s dream, who was always dreaming of falling in love, her romantic heart often making up day dreams of a strong hero to steal her away. Asta usually said that she listened to too many sagas.

Poor Gudrun, you thought, sighing. She did not know what to do. Being without Hrafna, without her sister who always protected her, would be hard, and with that in mind she was not sure if she wanted to just return home without her. Maybe she would stay with Hrafna in Vestfold for a while, she had told you, and then decide what to do.

Asta and Yeva had talked only little about what they wanted to do, as neither of them saw this journey as such a grand life-changer as you and Hranfa did. They both were of the opinion, to just see what was going to happen, and to see what the leaders of the great army had planned for you. They were fine with raiding, and with returning home.

“I dreamed a dream last night

of silk and fair furs,

of a pillow so deep and soft,

a peace with no disturbance.”

A soft, familiar voice behind you pulled you out of your thoughts, causing not only you, but also the princes and the kind to turn their heads, towards its source.

“And in the dream I saw

as though through a dirty window

the whole ill-fated human race,

a different fear upon each face.”

Yeva, her golden hair opened and flowing over her shoulders, was walking next to Gudrun, seemingly not aware how her singing had just caught the attention of so many men and woman around her, her beautiful eyes fixed on the cloudy sky above her. She looked like Sif right now, the wife of Thor walking among you.

“The number of their worries grow

and with them the number of their solutions —

but the answer is often a heavier burden,

even when the question hurts to bear.”

The idle chatter and low conversations that had filled the air around you slowly died down, as it seemed as more and more of your fellow warriors and shieldmaidens started to listen to your sister’s mesmerising voice, her words apparently hitting soft spots deep in everyone’s heart.

“As I was able to sleep just as well,

I thought that would be best —

to rest myself here on fine fur,

and forget everyone else.”

You knew this song, had heard it often over the years, but learned it from Yeva herself. You remembered, when she had sung it for the first time, where she had also told you where she had learned it, when she had just been a little girl, visiting the Danes with her father. A skald had taught it to her, the first song in the Norse tongue she had ever learned to sing.

“Peace, if it is to be found, is where

one is furthest from the human noise —

and walling oneself around, can have a dream

of silk and fine furs.”

Ivar in front of you blinked a few times at Yeva, after the song had ended, and when she just continued to hum the familiar melody, before his blue eyes wandered towards you. A small, almost shy smile appeared on his beautiful lips, as he noticed you returning his gaze, once again looking far more boyish than you were used to.

The corners of your own mouth went up too, slightly, and you nodded at him briefly, before he finally turned around once more, facing into the direction his horse was pulling his chariot.

Whatever would come after you had defeated king Ecbert and his army for good, you thought, you were sure that your fate involved Ivar the Boneless.

#ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivars heathen army #vikings imagine #odal

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wonderswritings · 6 years

Text

SuperAvengers Universe 2/?

Anon Request: deanxreader alternate universe maybe with the avengers? the two worlds are combined and the reader is a part of the team who stumbles upon the brothers when she’s injured real bad on a mission and they take her in cuz they know who she is and they help her both brothers fall for her for different reasons and she works with both them and the team thnx! Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader

*General View* “Dean watch out!” Dean slammed on Baby’s brake’s and just missed hitting a girl. The boys grabbed their guns and went running out towards the girl. They turned her over slowly and carefully and moved her hair out of her face. “Dean this is Miss Viper, from the Avengers.” “No fucking way dude. That’s bullshit. How the hell did she get out all the way out here?” “Dean I’m telling you, this is Miss Viper.” “If you can find her Avenger badge then I’ll say you were right and I was wrong.” Sam checked her pockets and sure enough, he found her Avenger badge. He held it up to dean and gave him his bitch face. “See dude? I told you.” “Yeah, yeah, you were right. So now what?” “She needs medical attention now. We should bring her back to the bunker.” “Fine but she’s your responsibility.” “Done.” The boys picked Miss Viper up and carried her over to baby. They laid her in the backseat and made sure she wouldn’t fall over. When they were done, they took off for the bunker. They arrived at the bunker about two hours later. They carried her out of baby and took her inside. They laid her on the couch and Dean went to go get the first aid kit. While they were patching her up, she woke up and attacked them, her guns trained on them both.

“Woah, hey now, calm down we aren’t here to hurt you. Were just trying to help you. You’re injured. My name is Sam and this is my brother Dean.” “Where am I? I won't ask again.” “Your in Kansas. This is where we live. We’re not Hydra.” “Cut the TV on.” Dean walked over to the TV and cut it on. It was a news report at Avengers Tower. “Is it true Miss Viper is missing or is she dead?” “How can you be sure this wasn’t planned?” “She’s could’ve done this herself and went back to Hydra where she belongs!” Nat walked up to the stand and pushed Tony out of her way. The reporters became quiet and anxious waiting for her to say something, anything. “Y/N Y/L/N did not plan this. This was not staged either. For you to say she deserves to be with Hydra is like saying I deserve to be with the KGB. Y/N fights for all of you and you dare say that she belongs with Hydra? Hydra is not what you believe it to be. Hydra is a Nazi organization that was established during World War II. Captain America went in the ice thinking he was taking down Hydra. And for a time period, he did but Hydra resurfaced with a vengeance. Y/N and myself are victims of what Hydra can do. Hydra is not a place we would wish our enemies upon. So do not ever say Y/N belongs with Hydra.” Steve walked up to the stand and Nat walked back to her place with the others. “We sent Y/N on a solo mission for two reasons, she is the best at solos missions and her skill set was needed for this mission. She went in blind because our technology was always shut down because of an emp. The base was riddled with traps all around the base. She managed to disable the traps because she shut the power to the base down. When she did that, we were able to contact her. We did not know until it was too late that she was not alone. When we arrived at the base, there were agents everywhere. We had to fight them and when the place was clear, there was no sign of Y/N anywhere. She managed to take down four men with her viper bites. We found her comm in the woods that surrounded the base.” “So what does this mean?” “As of now, Y/N Y/L/N also known as Miss Viper is officially considered missing in action. We are asking that if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Y/N please, let us know. Thank you and that’s all.” The team walked off the stage and it went back to the news reporters at the news station. “That is just so sad George. I don’t know about you, but when I met Miss Viper she was so sweet and caring. Since the Avengers has been established which I guess would be since the attack on New York, she has spent her time saving all of us. Our condolences are with the Avengers and with Miss Viper. Please, if any of you have any information on the location of Miss Viper, please contact your local authority.” The image fanned out to the front of Avengers Tower where there were people placing different items in front of the tower and a very nice sized sign that said “bring Miss Viper home” Dean cut the TV off and turned back to face Y/N and Sam who was holding his hands up in surrender since Y/N had her gun and viper bites trained on both of them. “See? We mean you no harm.” “How’d I get here?” “We almost hit you when you came onto the road we were on. We brought you here because we didn’t know if you would want to go to a hospital or not.” “We also didn’t know who you were.” Y/N put her guns down and sat back down on the couch. She holstered her gun and turned her viper bites off. She looked up at Dean when she spoke to him again. “Do you have a bathroom with a mirror? I can patch myself up.” “You don’t have to do that. We’re glad to help.” “You’ve never dealt with a super soldier experimented person. I can patch myself up.” “Sam can show you where the bathroom’s at, Sam?” “Yeah sure. Come on.” Sam grabbed the first aid kit and helped Y/N stand. He showed her were the bathroom was and leaned against the door watching her. “Are you going to just stand there and watch, or are you going to strike a conversation?” “So you’re a super soldier who was experimented on?” “I was.” “How?” “You know the story of Black Widow right?” “I do.” “I was with her in the Red Room. We were in the same class and graduated together. When we were transferred over to our handlers, never saw her again until S.H.I.E.L.D While I was with Hydra, they experimented on my after I had survived the super soldier injection.” “Sounds ruff.” “It is to everyone. So what’s your story?” “I’m sorry?” “What’s your story. Everyone has a story Sam Winchester.” “How do you know my last name, we didn’t tell you our last name.” “Because I am a trained assassin and spy I’m meant to spot those sorta things. Besides, I know when I’m in a Men of Letters building.” “How do you know about that?” “Like I said, trained assassin and spy.” “You need some help with that?” Y/N was sitting on the side of the bathtub trying to get the bullet out. She looked up at dean and sighed. “If you don’t mind.” “I don’t. I actually respect you even if everyone else doesn’t.” Sam kneeled down in front of her and took the tweezers from her hands and started to fish for the bullet himself. “You know, everyone sees Black Widow as some goddess and all, but you, when I see you or hear your name, I know you’re a goddess because a goddess can survive all the shit she’s been thru and come out of it better, stronger, powerful, and beautiful.” “Are you trying to flirt with me Mr. Winchester?” “If I say yes, would it work?’ “Like you said Winchester, a goddess comes out stronger and powerful. And in my case, hard to get.” And with that, Y/N got up and left the bathroom assuming going to the main room where Dean was. Sam just sat there contemplating everything. This woman, he had already decided, would be the death of him.

Supernatural Tag: @emoryhemsworth @supernaturaldean67 @brandyleewhatever @kirakombat @be-amaziing @imaginesofdreams @helloangelicaaaaa @sonic-lipstick-is-mine @hp-hogwarts @flipsorenson-99 @marvel-af @shieldgirl95 @deanscas-jensensmish Marvel Tag: @emoryhemsworth @kindnesswins @supernaturaldean67 @wildefire @kirakombat @katykyll @be-amaziing @imaginesofdreams @helloangelicaaaaa @regrets-decison @sonic-lipstick-is-mine @hp-hogwarts @indaybella99 @rashinyx2002 @lilypalmer1987 @flipsorenson-99 @dninah @marvel-af @shieldgirl95 @taya-bui @deanscas-jensensmish @greeneyedthief @lovemesomepietro @capsofwinchesters @midnightdevotion @lilya-petrichor @what-if-i-am-weird

#avengers x reader #sam Winchester x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam Winchester drabble #steve rogers drabble #sam Winchester imagine #steve rogers imagine #sam Winchester oneshot #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers #sam winchester #avengers #supernatural

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critrolesketch · 6 years

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Right Kiddies, the De Rolo interaction continued

Here is the thing real quick about the people in the party going forward

Val was kidnapped at 7 and has a scar in her hand where the kidnapper stabbed it when she got annoying. She and her 3 Aasimar Brothers were also targeted when she was 12 by three necromancers. She made a pact with the Raven Queen in that moment to stall them long enough for help to arrive. Now Val is on a mission to serve her patron, become a hero, and return to teach her brothers to do the same. Except she is 16 and is in way over her head and has a lot of growing left to do.

Calladyne is a half elf bard who looks fab and sings like Beyoncé, but spent her life in a bad Fey court and has just returned from the Feywild and it’s only been, like, 3 months since she was technically born. Gal is 20

Dixie is a revenant out to kill the dragon that killed her home and family.

Aavar was tricked into wearing cursed armor that had a good ac, but the dude who gave it to her could make her do whatever he wanted her to do (and he was a dick) and she couldn’t take it off. He died and we recently got her armor off , which was a big in game victory.

Veir really likes guns. He thinks Dwarves should use guns as their main form of weaponry. He is butt-hurt that Percy doesn’t agree.

The player who controls Dixie had to leave early, so we were without a tank who...actually can’t really die. It was bad.

We find out that multiple people took the baby. We track some footprints back into Whitestone and to a warehouse. I break our stealth with a nat 1 and try to remedy it by going in first. 4 Rogues with sneak attack = pincushion Val.

We fight them off and eventually tie up two and interrogate the gal behind the whole thing, who happens to be the lady we met at dinner on the council who is in charge of the business and economy in Whitestone. She is Myriad. They handed the baby off to cultists.

We head back out again after some...intense interrogations. Percy pulls our Gunslinger aside to interrogate the woman and he nearly pulls an No Mercy Percy, smoke and all. It’s just a test tho to see if Veir was a good person or something and Veir is left along to interrogate this gal. Something awoke inside that dude because hell man, we was not very kind to that woman.

Percy gives Veir Animus as a loaner so he can better kill the f-ers that took the youngest De Rolo.

We head out, find an old hideout at the end of the tracks we are following in the woods, and make it through the hallway of spinning blades and smashing pillars set up as a death trap. Fun thing about that was if we got to the end, a rune on the door caused a fear effect and you ran back into the death trap.

We find the cultist and her crew with the baby. It’s a tough battle. Calladyne our Bard goes down a lot, and Aavar our arcane archer ends up getting hit by a spell that makes her see her worst fear. It wasn’t pleasant. Eventually the cultist lady takes a knife to the baby’s throat and Val is freaking out. She doesn’t know how healthy this woman is or if she will kill the baby as soon as anyone attacks. She risks it and gets the HDYWTDT with eldritch blast.

I catch the baby, Veir finishes off the remaining foe, and we questions her and her companions using my Tome ability my class provides (I can ask the dead 1 question). They were gonna use the baby for fuel apparently. We find that they are cultists if the Chained Oblivion, and a letter on the lady says

“We found another in Whitestone. Have it delivered to the Whithered.” Signed Thola.

Both names are from Val’s backstory. Both were two of the three necromancers that attempted to kidnap her.

So I’m cradling baby Vax, who has snuggled into my shoulder, staring in shock at this letter.

We end by returning baby Vax to a very grateful mother and father.

NEXT SESSION!

We all meet the next morning to De Breif the De Rolos (that is legit the session title. My DM was pretty proud)

Val basically info dumps her backstory to convey how dangerous the people are who took baby Vax. She gets really upset during this too and Vex reaches out to put her hand in mine and Val lets her know that she will do everything in her power to protect Vax from the necromancers. She accepts Val’s vow but says that they’ve got it handled for now and gives me the classic Vex smirk.

Also, turns out Baby Vax just has black wings that appeared recently, so Val is now for sure certain the RQ blessed them with the child instead of any other God.

So the De Rolos decide to help and Percy gets really excited. Like super excited.

Also Aavar snoops around for info in the evil council members house after being told not to and took a bunch of papers. Don’t know if she kept them or left them for the De Rolos but she and the councilwoman had relations through the Myriad, as Aavar was forced to work with them.

The next morning we are awoken by Percy, who is practically vibrating with excitement. He has a speedy way for getting us to Lyrengorn.

He made himself an airship.

Dude let us take it out on its maiden voyage.

The ship is pretty small, but the cabin is bigger in the inside and is heated. Dude just...got everything he wanted.

So we sail off to Bigby’s tower! With the eldest De Rolo kid Shaun as our captain.

Speed round

We discover that Dixie is basically Deadpool after she fails with a Nat one to climb down a rope in Lyrengorn. She has, in canon, a Canadian accent, duel wields swords, and reassembles herself like something out of a horror movie, with shit just snapping into place.

We find the tower and it’s like...super Trippy. Each door leads to another room, every step takes you to a different place with different gravity, one door took us to a giant mimic in a giant glass container that imitated sand. That was fun.

Also the steam Gollum we faced did 65 max damage in a round to level 6 players. That was stressful.

We finally find the study and the artifact we came to recover called Cepheus, the shroud of tears.

Funny thing is though, our dm made these items before we even sent our characters in and I just so happened to be a Raven Queen fangirl. He tells us that the list of coincidences and parallel story beats we somehow miraculously stumbled upon in our party is absolutely mind boggling.

Here is the item made the THE RAVEN QUEEN HERSELF BEFORE SHE ASCENDED.

Val takes the item in her hand and immediately feels a rush of power. She channels the energy apprehensively into her focus and suddenty sees the Raven Queen’s face. “Put it on.”

Val: “Yep ok im putting it on”

Val’s wings extend 15 ft in either direction, a cape made of shadow extends out from the clasp, and her hair goes all Eris from Sinbad.

So I got wings all the time now y’all (but just for the aesthetics, I still can’t fly unless I use my racial feat or turn into a raven)

We read Bigby’s journal and other artifacts we are looking for get mentioned. One of them is a bow (great for Aavar) that was lost in Pandamonium. Aavar makes a comment “I’m not gonna go carrying around a magical weapon that I’m going to get hunted for.”

I surprised myself with a very out of line quip from Val “I mean, you wore that armor and everything was fine” (implying that no one hunted her for that particular powerful magical item)

Everyone reacts shocked and very disturbed by the comment. Aavar walks away, stunned at the comment.

Never had Val been so powerful yet felt so powerless.

I love this game. I can’t wait for more drama. We all have plans for how to deal with that bombshell and are practically vibrating like Percy. We ended after exiting the tower. Things are gonna be real interesting as we travel to Vassilhiem. I’m so excited you guys.

If this was enjoyable for you, go ahead and let me know in the comments and I’ll set up an official tumblr where we will keep you updated about our travels through Tal’dorei.

#val ganderstim #critical role #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #critter pcs #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #vex’ahlia #my art #long post

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buckybarnesstar · 7 years

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Bucky’s Plan

Note: the title sucks, but you know. I try. hi thanks for the request! I hope you like it! feedback is welcome! .c

Request: I’d like to request one where you and Bucky are together not necessarily publicly where the team knows but definitely a thing, and Bucky gets it in his head that’d be a great idea to dance with another woman at a party with the intention of making you jealous and leading to angry jealous sex but instead it upsets you making you think he doesn’t consider the two of you to be exclusive and that he doesn’t really care about you? Fluffy ending though after Bucky works for it a little? - @the-one-and-only-vampcake (im so sorry i just realized i didnt tag you in this!)

As soon as Tony announced he wanted the team dressed and ready to go to the new nightclub his friend was opening up, you all but bounced in your seat. You were ready for a night out, having been on missions every day for the past few months. It was rare to see 9pm sometimes; your energy was completely gone by the time you got home.

Nights out with the team were always fun and you felt like you’d be able to let loose tonight, enjoy your time with your friends, and maybe even have some alone time with Bucky while everyone was in their own little world or maybe with them around.

You and Bucky have been together secretly for about 3 months and you felt safe to say you love him. But you understand him wanting to keep it hidden from the team. He was still getting through everything, but you were totally okay with taking your time. Or so you thought.

You were dressed in a tight red dress that showed off your curves perfectly, paired with black heels. It wasn’t too flashy and you felt confident wearing it, so why not? Also, it happened to be Bucky’s favorite color on you. You got a nice reaction from Bucky back at the tower when he saw you and a small hint of hope bubbled in your stomach, thinking that maybe Bucky would show some affection towards you tonight in front of the team.

But as you sat with Steve in a blue velvet booth, Bucky and the other team members nowhere in sight, that hope had dwindled down into disappoint. Bucky would’ve already tried to get you with him by now if he really wanted to. You wanted to have fun, but not with some random sleazy guy. You wanted to have fun with Bucky; your Bucky.

You were twirling your thin straw around in your small glass cup of a beverage you had no taste for, just wanting the burn in your throat from it to distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. A sigh fell from your lips, causing Steve to look at you.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, throwing back another shot even though he’s had more than you can count and he was sober as can be. You scoffed softly, thinking to yourself: Oh just that I’m secretly dating your best friend but he hasn’t paid any attention to me at all. “Nothing.” You simply said, leaving the heavier answer to yourself as you sipped your drink.

Steve nodded softly. He leaned his arms on the table and sucked on his teeth. “Well, you’re too beautiful to be sitting at a table.” Steve said, filling up another shot with his second bottle of Fireball. You scoffed again and shook your head. “Steve, how are you not sick?” You asked rhetorically, a small smile on your face.

You saw a reflection shine into your peripheral vision before Steve could say anything else. “What was that?” You softly asked, turning your head to look towards the dance floor. You could see Bucky standing not too far from you, leaning against the bar on the side. The strobe light had hit his metal arm that was showcased in a tight blue shirt, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

Your heart jumped in your chest upon seeing him, only for it to sink down further when you noticed a rather sexy woman rubbing her hand along his metal arm. You swallowed thickly, your eyes glued to the scene. Bucky was clearly enjoying himself. He was smirking and laughing, no doubt at the words she whispered in his ear just before.

Bucky’s eyes flickered to yours and you quickly looked away, your face turning red. Steve chuckled deeply, having not noticed your eyes watering since he was watching Bucky getting felt up. “Go Buck!” Steve cheered for his best friend, downing his third shot in two minutes. Before you could leave the booth, Bucky walked over with the mystery woman, beer bottles in their hands.

You knew Bucky couldn’t get drunk, just like Steve clearly couldn’t, so you knew he was doing this all on his own and very willingly. His arm was wrapped around her thin waist, her red dress looking far more revealing and strikingly beautiful on her than yours did on you. You bit back your tears and sat up tall.

Bucky watched you closely then looked back at the woman. “I’d like you to meet Steve and Y/N.” Bucky said, placing a kiss to her shoulder. Your stomach dropped, though you smiled tightly at her. Steve shook her hand and smiled widely. “It’s nice to meet you…” Steve trailed off, his eyebrow quirked. The woman giggled. “Lola.” She said, her voice almost as sultry as Nat’s. Almost.

Bucky ushered for you to move around the booth, his eyes never meeting yours. You hesitated before you scooted around, now sitting in the middle against the wall. Steve was on the other open end while Bucky was sat with Lola on the opposite end. You held your hands in your lap, listening to Steve and Bucky talk to her.

You stared out at the dance floor, catching glimspes at the people. You saw Nat’s red hair flit through the air as she pulled Clint along with her. “So, what do you do, Lola?” Steve asked, sliding her a shot. She took it and quickly threw it back, shocking Steve and making Bucky laugh. “Amazing, isn’t she?” Bucky asked with a wide smile.

Steve nodded and smirked, leaning forward. “I actually work for the local News Channel!” She said, her red painted lips pulling upward, her perfectly white and straight teeth flashing. You sighed softly, trying to seem interested. Steve nodded once more and Nat walked over with Clint, looking a tad bit tipsy.

“Wow, Barnes! It was time you found someone!” Clint shouted with a smile, spilling a little bit of his drink as he stumbled to sit down beside Steve. Steve scooted closer towards you so Nat could fit beside Clint. You didn’t want to be anywhere near Bucky, so you didn’t care when Steve’s arm brushed against yours from being so close. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky glare at the contact.

Nat looked over at you, her hand resting on Clint’s bicep. “No luck with any guys, Y/N?” She asked with a slur, a small pout on her face. All eyes were on you now and Lola’s hand was grasped in Bucky’s. You looked at Bucky and he held a slight smirk. Turning your eyes to Nat again, you sighed. “Not really.” You muttered, seemingly uninterested in this whole ordeal.

As time went on, everyone had joined around the booth now, talking to Bucky and Lola. You learned a lot about her and she didn’t seem all that bad. You felt small and heartbroken, everything you felt for Bucky must have been mistaken. You hooked up a few times then became a secret couple, but now, you could see that maybe Bucky didn’t want that.

Lola was laughing, her hand on Bucky’s thigh. You could hear him inhale deeply and he leaned into her, causing her laugh to hitch. “Yeah, I’d love to dance!” She squealed, making Bucky chuckle. “Mm, great.” Bucky said, making your heart skip. She slid out of the booth and pulled a smirking Bucky along. He gave her ass a light slap and tears filled your eyes again.

The team had followed behind them, nobody looked back to see if you had come along, too tipsy or engulfed in the new pretty face with Bucky to care. As you sat there watching, a guy walked by your booth, his eyes landing on yours. He gave you a small smile and took a step back to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asked over the music, seeming rather too innocent to be here.

You shrugged gently, pursing your lips. “Why are guys assholes?” You questioned, feeling the sting of your tears irritating your eyes. The guy rubbed the back of his neck as if he were thinking of an answer. He sent you a glance before taking a seat at the end of the booth. You hadn’t moved, staying in your spot the whole time.

“I’m not sure. What guy has a beautiful lady like yourself upset?” He asked, his eyes soft. Your eyes automatically landed on Bucky again. The guy followed your gaze and he spotted the scene before him. Lola was grinding on Bucky, his hands resting on her hips and his mouth agape. His head was nuzzled in her neck as she kept dancing against him.

You looked down at the mass amount of shot glasses littered on the table, some leaving sweat rings on the wood. “I see. Boyfriend?” He asked sadly, looking back at you. You looked him up and down, noticing a ring on his ring finger. Following your eyes, he smiled. “I’m here with my girl, don’t worry.” He said, his cheeks flaring.

A small smile formed on your face as you nodded, then it fell. “Secret boyfriend.” You whispered, not able to trust your voice right now. “I won’t pry. But he clearly doesn’t deserve you.” The guy said, standing to his feet. Bucky looked over now, watching you and the guy with a tense jaw. “He’s not worth it.” He said, smiling down at you. “Red suits you, not her.” He added before walking away.

You sighed softly and looked over at Bucky. Your heart raced when you saw him already looking at you with a tight expression. Don’t tell me he feels jealous when he has another girls ass-Wait. Wait a fucking second. Is he trying to make you jealous? Your eyebrows creased and he smirked at you as he watched you piece it together. That little shit.

Reaching for Steve’s half full bottle of Fireball, you kept your eyes on Bucky as you brought the bottle to your lips. You took a sip and swallowed it down in one gulp, the sting not bothering you. You moved out of the booth and made your way to the exit, Bucky’s eyes leaving you to focus on Lola.

Your eyes filled with more tears and you bit the inside of your cheek. Bucky was only trying to make you jealous. How he could even think that was okay? He clearly looked bewildered when he saw that other guy sitting with you. Why try to make you jealous if he can’t handle it back? You shook your head and pushed the entry door open, the cold night air hitting your face harshly.

Your jacket was in the car but at this point, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was go home so you can ignore Bucky and figure out what to do. He’s making you feel like shit and he doesn’t even care. You walked down the sidewalk, not sure where you were going. Your heels clicked as you walked and you sighed, letting your tears fall.

A sob escaped your lips and you stopped walking, only making it a few feet from the door before leaning your back against the brick wall. People walked by you, giving you apologetic glances as they took in your state. You sniffled and sighed, crossing your arms. The door to the nightclub opened and you turned to see Tony looking out.

He spotted you and you pushed yourself off the building and walked over to Tony. He sighed and shook his head. “I have a chip in your heel to keep up with you. I have the same for the team. I did it so if someone leaves, I can make sure they’re not in danger.” Tony explained, taking his glasses off. “Why’d you leave?” He asked quietly, a frown evident on his face.

You shrugged and you knew he could see your tear stained cheeks under the light illuminating from the bright neon sign. “I just needed some air. Can I catch a taxi home?” You asked softly, shivering slightly. Tony gave you a sad smile. “I won’t ask.. Be careful, kid.” Tony said, giving your arm a squeeze.

Tony left to go back inside and you turned to face the busy streets. You whistled for a taxi, holding your hand out. A taxi pulled up to you and you climbed in. “Avengers Tower, please.” You said, realizing you left your bag in the car, too. “I don’t have-” The taxi driver waved his hand at you with a smile. “On the car.” He said, pulling away.

Arriving back at the tower, you walked into the elevator and took it up to the kitchen. The straps of your heels were hanging from your fingers and you walked over to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water.

Not ready to get into bed just yet, you made your way into the common room. You dropped your heels by the table and sat down on the couch, turning on the television.

You chugged your water and settled on watching an episode of Supernatural. It wasn’t until halfway through the show that the team came home, you could hear their shouts and cheers in their drunken state even floors up.

It was only 11, you figured they’d stay past midnight, especially Bucky. Your eyes stayed glued to the show and you assumed everyone had gone to bed since nobody had come up here. Your knees were pulled up to your chest as you kept thinking back to what happened at the nightclub.

There was no reason for how Bucky acted and you couldn’t ignore the stabbing pain in your chest when you pictured the way he was holding Lola. He looked as if he were really enjoying himself, and you thought of how he never wanted the team to find out about you two.

If that’s how he felt with you, then it’s just that. You were the one he didn’t want the team to know about. Maybe you’re not good enough for Bucky or maybe he’s ashamed to be with you publicly. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe he wanted to make you jealous so you’d leave him.

What if’s kept floating around in your mind and you felt fresh tears falling from your eyes. You turned off the television and stood from your seat and bent down to grab your heels so you could cry in your room and hopefully fall asleep quickly. You just wanted tonight to end already.

You walked to the elevator and raised your hand to the open button, only to hear it slide up and ding. You froze and watched the doors open, revealing the last person you’d want to see again tonight, or ever. You could see a red lip print on Bucky’s neck and his hair was slightly messed up.

Bucky’s eyes met yours and his smile fell. His eyes held your gaze and you pointed your finger towards the inside of the elevator. “May I?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking from holding back your emotions. A frown formed on Bucky’s lips. “What’s wrong, Doll?” Bucky asked, stepping out to touch your arm.

You flinched away from him, your thoughts running back to where his hands were previously. Bucky recoiled and felt a bolt of pain shoot through his chest. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head, finding it unbelievable that he asked such a question. Bucky reached for you again but you took a step back.

“Y/N, what is it?” Bucky asked, his voice stronger. You looked up at him and his eyes were softer than his tone. “Please, don’t act like you care about how I feel now.” You snapped, shoving past Bucky. He watched you get into the elevator and you pressed your floor number button. He stepped in before the doors could close and you huffed.

Bucky looked down at you and you looked straight ahead. “Is this about the club?” Bucky asked lowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You scoffed and a smile actually formed on your lips. “You know, you only had to say you didn’t want to be with me. You didn’t have to eye fuck and dry hump another woman in front of me.” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence as your lip quivered.

You saw Bucky hang his head low. “That’s not how I thought you’d react.” Bucky whispered, his eyes on your red painted toenails. He always loved the color red, especially on you, so when he picked out another girl in the club to spend his night with and she was wearing red, your hate for the color started to form.

Another scoff fell from your lips. “So, what then? What did you expect to happen, James?” You asked, the use of Bucky’s real name caused his head to snap up at you. You’ve never called him by his real name and it made his heart sink in his chest. “Y/N, I just-I wanted to-” Bucky started to explain, but you held your hand up to signal him to stop.

“You wanted to make me jealous.” You whispered, nodding your head. A small albeit painful smile formed on your lips. “Yet, you did much worse. It hurt, Bucky.” You said, feeling the muscles in your face start to contort with emotion. Shaking your head, you looked up at Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes were watery now and you shrugged your shoulders. “Red. She had to wear red. And tell me, did it feel good when Steve was close to me? Or when that guy was at our booth talking to me?” You asked, your voice growing angrier. Bucky stayed quiet and guilt took place in his eyes behind his tears.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. You stepped out and Bucky followed you, but you stopped him outside of the elevator. “I want to be alone.” You whispered, your hand trembling, a few inches shy of touching Bucky’s chest. A deep breath fell from his lips. “Y/N, please.” Bucky whispered, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head and gripped the straps of your heels tightly. “I need time to think.“ You said, avoiding his eyes. You walked away from Bucky and you heard him curse under his breath.

Before entering your bedroom, you turned just in time to see the elevator doors close, no sign of Bucky anywhere in the hallway.

A few days passed and you had distanced yourself from Bucky. You knew his daily schedule and you matched it when you first started liking him. You would eat breakfast together, train together, and would chill out together when you had time. Even Bucky asked Fury to let you two be mission partners. Nobody seemed to notice the change.

But now, you needed a little time to figure out things. Bucky has tried to talk to you, and you knew it was cruel to leave him hanging, but you were insecure when it came to Bucky. More so since he wanted to hide your relationship and clearly had to make you jealous to prove something.

You were in the gym now, having avoided Bucky all morning and a little of the afternoon; you were in the clear. You were throwing punches and kicks at a punching bag, sweat dripping from your body. Grunts fell from your lips and you focused on your hits instead of the constant images of Bucky and Lola.

What happened was selfish of Bucky and if he expects you to be okay, he’s wrong.

You worked out for about an hour and your body felt tired, drenched in sweat. Needing a shower, you took the elevator straight to your room. Walking in, you shed yourself of your clothes all but your underwear, and stepped into your bathroom. You sighed out and turned on your shower, letting the water heat up.

You took your hair out of it’s high ponytail and took your panties off before stepping into the shower. The water was the perfect temperature and you let it fall over you, wetting your hair and soothing your sore muscles. A sigh fell from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. You stayed like that until you suddenly felt two hands rest on your hips.

You squealed out and your eyes shot open, your body jolting away from the hands. Turning around, you saw Bucky in all of his naked glory, his eyes red and puffy. “Bucky! You can’t just sneak into my shower like that!” You yelled, covering your private areas with your arms and hands. Bucky frowned and you noticed his eyes had dark circles under them.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what else to do. You changed your schedule. It’s hard to get a free moment where you’re not busy.” Bucky said softly, the water hitting his shoulder, little droplets bouncing off. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not talking things out with Bucky. But he really hurt you.

You sighed and stood there, biting on your lip nervously. “You hurt my feelings.” You said after a few moments of silence. Bucky stepped towards you and you stayed put, looking up at his face.

His hands held onto your hips and you took a shaky breath. “I thought-I’m so sorry. She was in on it, I just…I wanted to- Fuck, I don’t know.” Bucky said, reaching his hand up to caress your cheek. Your skin burned under his touch and your heart jumped in your chest.

“Y/N, I was so stupid. I just wanted to see if you’d get jealous.” Bucky said, shaking his head. His palm rested against your cheek. You nodded and bit your lip again. “But why? I get that we aren’t public, but-” Bucky shook his head quickly. “It was stupid. I want people to know, but now, I’m not sure if you even want me.” Bucky said, his blue eyes meeting yours.

You shifted on your feet and sighed. “I-I just, what you did..It’s like you didn’t care about how I felt.” You said, stepping around Bucky to start washing yourself before all of the hot water was used up. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot.” He said, his voice cracking. You didn’t say anything after that, you just wanted to hurry and get out.

Bucky helped you wash up and you helped him, the silence between you two was comfortable. Bucky helped you dry off afterwards, his hands carefully rubbing the towel along your body. “You know I love you, right?” Bucky asked you, using the towel to dry his dripping hair. You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, slipping on your robe and tying it.

Having extra clothes in your room, Bucky slipped on some clean boxers and sweats. “I know.” You whispered, leaving the bathroom to find some clean clothes. “You didn’t say it back.” Bucky said, following behind you. You frowned a little. “I need to know that this, us, is real. Bucky, you have no idea how insecure you made me feel.” You said, shaking your head gently.

You stood at your dresser, going through the drawers. Two arms wrapped around your waist and Bucky’s chin rested on your shoulder. “I realized how stupid it was. What we have is real, I promise.” Bucky said, pulling you tighter against his body. His lips hovered over your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

Goosebumps covered your body as you felt his lips press onto your neck. “I love you, so much.” Bucky whispered, turning you around to face him. Bucky’s eyes were watery and you frowned, raising your hand to his cheek. His stubble tickled your palm and his eyes met yours. “I love you, too.” You said, a small smile forming on your lips.

You figured you shouldn’t let Bucky suffer any longer, having been away from him all this time made you a little anxious. He always made you feel safe. Seeing that he didn’t mean any true harm, you rose up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips. He was shocked and didn’t kiss back at first, but he soon caught on and pressed his lips against yours.

It was slow and passionate, then as Bucky’s hands roamed across your lower back, you deepened it, letting your hands tangle into his hair. A low groan sounded through Bucky and you pulled away, feeling his fingers sliding underneath the tie of your robe to the front. Your breathing was short and heavy as you watched Bucky untie your robe.

It fell open a tad and Bucky bit his lip at the newly exposed skin. His fingers traced along your skin, sliding over the curve of your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hands held your waist, slowly moving around to your back. “You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispered, his hands pulling your robe off.

It fell to the floor, pooling around your ankles. Your face tinted a light red as Bucky’s eyes met yours. Bucky pulled you closer to him, your breasts pressed against his bare body. He picked you up gently, carrying you to your bed. A soft moan fell from your mouth when you felt Bucky ground his hip into yours.

Bucky pulled away with a small smile. “I want to tell everyone.” Bucky said, resting his forehead against yours. “Surely not right now.” You said with a soft laugh, pulling Bucky’s lips to yours again.

“Oh, trust me. It’ll be a few hours before I get to it.” Bucky smirked, taking his time showing you just how much he cared about you.

Note: I’m so sorry if this sucks! i made it fluffy with smut mentions. I’m sorry if you wanted full smut! thanks for the request .c

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