#dark!brock rumlow

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Private Show

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, cheating, body image issues and insecurity, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find your husband at the strip club but he’s the least of your concerns.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: @slyyywriting​ had to fuck me up today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tom Nook loves collecting rent. Take care. 💖

Why are you here? Are you crazy? Has he finally driven you over the edge?

You drop your head into your hands, elbows against the steering wheel as you try to collect yourself. As if it isn’t humiliating enough. It’s the last straw. You can’t do it anymore. You won’t. 

You suck in a shuddery breath and sit up, gripping the ridged leather of your rusty beater. You see the silver Lexus, his new baby just across the lot. The flashing marquee with the woman in shock at her own nudity mocks you, casting red through your windshield. Your lip trembles, hold it together, bitch.

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants still damp with dishwater, the loose cotton tee barely hidden beneath an unzipped hoodie, and a pair of scuffed Walmart sneakers. You’re at home, scrubbing dishes, cleaning up his dirty socks, cooking a dinner that will only go cold, and he’s out here in his overpriced sportscar dropping money on strippers.

A cold trickle flows down your spine. Well, why wouldn’t he? You let yourself go. You’ve become the ratty, miserable, tired wife who can barely keep the floors swept. You wake up, go to work, come home and clean, then have nothing left to give him. The extra pounds don’t help either. You tug up the hem of your shirt and trace the new stretch mark.

Disgusted, you force yourself out of the car. You still have a shred of dignity. You snap the door shut and shove the jangly keys in the hoodie pocket. You drag your hands down your face and shake out your arms, building your nerve.

You march across the lot and approach the bouncer standing by the doors. His arms are crossed over his large chest as he gives a grimace to the world. He notices you and his square forehead wrinkles. You almost want to turn and run.

“’scuse me, ma’am,” he stops you with a raised palm, “you in the right place?”

You inhale and nod, “yes,” you tilt your chin up defiantly, fingers twiddling as doubt nips at your scalp, “my husband is inside.”

The words wisp from you and leave your chest hollow. Saying it out loud twists the knife to the bone. The man lets out and ‘ah’ but not much else. He tuts as and shakes his head, turning to open the door, “no fighting,” he warns.

“Just a bit of screaming,” you assure him as you bluster through, hands balled as you cling to your anger. Yes, be mad, that’s easy. 

You stomp inside and stop short, looking around at the spectrum of colours; fabric, lights, glitter, bottles, flesh… You’re dizzy as you keep searching, standing on your toes as you try to see past the bodies sat along the bar and those clustered around tables. A few men sit alone, throwing money up on the stage as women twirl and spread their legs. How many of them are married?

You see him. Brock. The scoundrel. Your teeth chatter and you gulp as your eyes singe. You want to run away. You want to go home and cry into your pillow. No, it ends here. Tonight.

“Hey, honey,” a waitress startles you, “oh, uh,” her surprise is obvious as she takes you in, “need a drink?”

“Maybe after,” you answer quietly, “thanks.”

She bats her lashes and gives a tremulous grin, “alright, sweetie.”

She quickly retreats, approaching a paying customer with a shimmy of her chest. You roll your shoulders and push your head up. You want that rat husband to feel the same humiliation that scours your stomach. Strippers, really? He told you he was working late.

You make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you tramp across the room, past tables of chattering men, through the din of music playing along to the movement of naked bodies. Brock lifts his glass as you near, noticing too late as his dark eyes hang off the blond hanging upside down from a pole.

“You bastard,” you snarl as knock the glass out of his hand, “you fucking liar!”

“Woah, woah,” he raises his hands, “uh, honey,” he greets, “what are you–”

“What am I doing here?! What–” you huff, head spinning, “is this work now? Hm? You lied to me. You left me at home to clean up after your lazy ass and you're spending our money on this?”

“Our money?” He scoffs.

“Oh shut up! I can’t believe you! Actually, no, you know what, I can,” you sneer, “why the fuck did I ever marry you?”

He chuckles darkly and stands, slowly, sinisterly. The way he does to win all your arguments. Just close enough to make you anxious.

“Let’s not do this here.”

“No, no, let’s do it here because you’re not coming home.”

“Ha, I’m not? Not allowed in the house I pay for–”

“I work too-”

“You make pennies,” he retorts, “go home, honey, I’ll be there soon for dinner.”

“No, no, don’t even–”

“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” His eyes fall down your body, “look at you. You’re not hiding anything special. I needa do this–” he gestures to the dancer, “just to get hard for your fat ass.”

You reel, the air knocked out of you. Your determination dwindles and you look around. You’re being watched. The performers can hardly keep up their routines as their eyes stray to the scene. A surge of shame erupts to fury.

“Fuck you!” You hit Brock in the chest, “fuck you!” You hit him again. He doesn’t even flinch. His indifference riles you further and you swing for his face. You’re pulled back before you can connect.

“Woah, lady,” an arm wraps around your middle, “settle down, no fighting in here–”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you growl as you claw wildly, “I’m going to–”

“Sweetheart,” another voice rises as another man appears, “come on, let’s pack it in.”

You grab at the arm around you, tugging on it without result. Brock rolls his eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think she’d just show up–”

“I don’t give a fuck, get out,” the man says. He puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket as he rubs his short stubble.

Slowly, sense returns to you and cools your angry adrenaline. Suddenly, you're horribly embarrassed. You stop and cover your face, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll go– I don’t know what came over me–”

“Not you,” the man intones out of the side of his mouth, “you.” You drop your hands to your chest as he points at Brock, “and don’t come back.”

“What– I didn’t do shit,” your husband snarls, “she came in here and–”

“You think I don’t see this all the damn time. Get out.” He pivots dismissively, Take the lady to the backroom and get her a drink.”

“No, no, please, I’ll go,” you insist, squirming as you try to free yourself.

“You’ll have a drink and calm down, sweetheart,” he waggles his finger at you then points to the ceiling, “Sam, take care of this asshole.”

Another man comes around and reaches for Brock’s arm. Your husband pulls away gruffly, “I can leave on my fucking own,” he snips, “don’t send that bitch home. She can sleep on the curb.”

Your lip trembles as Brock storms out, kicking over a chair as the man, Sam, follows to see him out. You clutch the string of your hoodie as the man at your back releases you.

“I’m so sorry. I– I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking,” you say.

“John,” the man snaps his fingers.

The man at your side once more takes your arm and tugs on you. You peer around then drop your eyes to the floor in shame. You let him lead you away, eager to hide from your rapt audience.

“Alright, alright, back to business,” the man, some sort of manager you assume, calls behind you.

You’re taken down a hallway to one of the private rooms and your escort flicks on the In Use light before showing you in. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you before he shuts the door. You sigh and look around, the space cast in a gentle violet hue centered around a small stage. 

You tread hesitantly along the carpet and around the curved couch. A knock comes and you peek over as a woman in a short red dress enters with a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. You watch her cross the room and set it on the low round table. You don’t know what to say so you let her go without a word.

You pace and chew your thumb. You could just go. No one would notice. Besides, why keep you here? Shit, what if they’re calling the police?

You rush for the door but it opens before you can reach it. The man, the one in charge, enters, shutting the door with a flick of his wrist as you nearly collide with him. You step back and wring your hands as you stare at him. He smirks as he watches you.

“What’s the hurry, sweetheart? Sounds like the old man won’t be staying up.”

“Um,” you swallow and cross your arms, trying to hide yourself. Compared to the club of primped, pretty women, you must stick out horribly, “I should go–”

“I told you to have a drink,” he nears and waves you towards the couch, “come on.”

“N–” you begin as he grabs your shoulder before slowly sliding his arm over it. He turns you with him and walks you across the room.

“Sit,” he points to the arched cushion, “the least you can do after coming into my club with that shit.”

You pull away and lower yourself to the couch. You hunch forward as you fold your arms over your lap, “I’m sorry–”

“I get it it, sweetie,” he goes to the table and breaks the seal on the bottle, pouring the dark whiskey into the crystal, “I’ve had this place for a while, I know men, I know most of the ones who come here shouldn’t.”

He caps the bottle and takes both glasses. He comes back to you and offers you one. You thank him with no intent to drink. He straightens and takes a long sip.

“Almost feel bad taking their money,” he mulls, “sorry, sweetheart, I know that’s not too nice to say right now.” He strides around casually.

“I… are you going to call the police?” You ask at last, cradling the glass of whiskey.

“If I was, you wouldn’t be in here,” he flicks his fingers at you, “not too hard to mop up some vodka. No harm, no foul.”

You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.

“Drink,” he demands, “I’m being pretty generous, so don’t test it.”

You raise the glass hesitantly. You take a small drink of the bitter liquid and it burns down your throat. You cough and cover your mouth. As you look up, he comes back to you and sits.

“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. That moron you call a husband should be,” he shrugs and takes a deep swig of his whiskey, “makes me wonder why they can’t just appreciate what they got.”

You laugh darkly and drink to smother your smart comment. He watches you and you shy away. He pushes against the bottom of your glass and floods your mouth with the whiskey. You choke and pull it away from your lips, hiding the overflow with your hand before wiping it away with your sleeve.

“How long?” He takes your hand away from your mouth and touches the ring on your finger.

You look at the gold band, “five years in June.”

“Ah,” he clucks and stretches to set his glass down, “not exactly what I meant. How long’s it been since he fucked you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, that’s why he’s here. Why you’re here–”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you stand and look for a place to put your drink. 

He grabs your wrist, “finish your drink and answer the question.”

You yank on your arm but his grip is firm. He tugs you until you’re forced back down. You twist your arm in his grasp and he squeezes, a warning.

“Bucky,” he states, “I own this place. Now, sweetheart, you wanna be proper, fine, what’s your name?”

You stare at him. He slowly lets you go and you rub your temple. Well, what the fuck else are you gonna do? You can’t go home. You murmur out your name.

“Alright, and my other question.”

You take a drink. A big one. The glass is empty. He takes it from you as you swipe your hand across your lips to dab away the dribble. You blow out as your stomach swirls.

“Nine months.”

“Nine–” he puts down your glass and sits back to face you, “nine months.”

“Shit,” you shake your head and examine your hands, “I can’t blame him so please, I know why. You don’t have to say it.”

“Why?”

You frown, “it isn’t that hard to guess.”

“I don’t know, tell me.”

You scoff. You turn your face away and furl your fingers as you bite back tears. This if fucking humiliating. 

“Look at me,” you whisper.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, but you’re hiding.”

You huff, “please, I would rather just go sleep on the street.”

“Babe, alright, I’m not being mean here. I’m not teasing you,” he shifts closer and his hand rests on your lower back. You wince. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been touched, even just like that. “Looks like you break your back at home, you deserve appreciation for that. Shouldn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

You clench your jaw as you look down, his other hand toys with the open zipper of your shirt. You pull your arms in and hug yourself.

“Why… am I here?”

“Sweetheart, you’re still a woman under all this. Your husband’s too fucked to know it.” His finger tickles up your sweater and he plays with your hoodie, “I’ll take a good fucking bet that you could be up on one of these stages.”

“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.

“I mean it,” his thumb brushes your jaw, “prove me wrong.”

You go rigid and grab his hand. You try to push it away and he twines his fingers through yours. He pulls your hand over and kisses the back of it.

“Well, am I wrong?” He purrs as he clings to you.

Your throat constricts as you meet his gaze. This man is hitting on you? With his eyes and his jawline, his cheekbones. You laugh cynically.

“You are wrong and I’m married.”

He lets go of your hand as you face forward. His hand lingers on your back still and crawls under your hoodie. He tugs at the elastic of your sweats and you yelp in surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Looks like a fine ass to me,” he snickers.

“Hey,” you shove him away, “what the fuck?”

“I’m not convinced,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m not convinced you’re the problem, sweetie, so you’re gonna have to show me that I’m wrong. Right now. You show me you’re not hot as fuck.”

You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”

“Take those fucking clothes off,” he leans in to growl in your ear.

You gasp as his lips tickle your cheek, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You shiver as he brushes his fingers along your neck. He grips your jaw and presses his mouth against you as he speaks.

“You come into my fucking club and make a fucking scene like that, sweetheart,” he growls, “you want to put on a show, finish it.” He stands, dragging you up with him as he squeezes your jaw painfully, “go on, stage is right there.”

“Bucky,” you grasp his wrist, “I’m sorry–”

“Ah, ah, shhh,” he hushes you, “no more talking.”

He spins you, stopping you with hands on your hips and nudges you towards the stage. You trip as he lets you go and stumble forward. You stare at the platform, the single step up, not very far from the couch at all. Close enough to see everything.

You look at the door as you wiggle your fingers. You can go. Run for it. He startles you as suddenly his hand is in your pocket and he fishes out your keys as if reading your mind. He throws them across the room and they fall into shadow.

“I got a man outside anyhow, so let’s go, sweetheart,” he claps his hands as he falls onto the couch with a rush of air.

“I don’t–”

Music rises from the speakers, interrupting you. You turn to watch him place his phone screen down beside him and lean back. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch as he sways one leg.

You face the stage again and brace yourself. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t dance. You’re hideous.

“Just gotta shake your ass a bit, sweetheart, really, it’s not rocket science,” he goads.

You climb onto the stage, eyes skittering evasively as you try to figure out what to do next. You awkwardly lift your foot and slide off your sneaker, then do the same to the other. You kick your shoes away as you pace nervously to the beat.

“Give it a bit of sass, baby,” he intones and you glance over, his hand on his thigh as he keeps one arm over the couch.

You turn and grab the front of your hoodie. You look at the ceiling and shimmy a bit, easing your sleeves down your shoulders. You get caught in the fabric and untangle your hands from the cuffs before finally flinging it away.

“Please,” you clasp the loose fabric of your tee, “I can’t–”

“You can,” he insists as his fingers tap on his leg.

You huff and look at the wall, trying to focus on the rhythm. You don’t feel very sexy. Your skin is hot with embarrassment but the heat is far from pleasant. You raise the hem of your shirt, baring your stomach as you hope the lighting hides the rippled lines around your hips. You unveil your white bra and swipe the cotton past your head.

You drop the shirt and give a spin, if only to hide a cringe. He gives a low groan but you’re certain it’s a laugh. You face him as you hook your fingers in the elastic of your sweats. If you get it over with, he’ll have his fun and send you off.

You roll down the top of the pants, rocking your hips as the music guides you. You push them down your pelvis, the cool air raising bumps all over you. As the fabric falls lower, you turn your back to him and tug it down past your ass. You drop them to your ankles and step out of them.

You reach back to unhook your bra, wiggling your bottom. You unclasp the back and ease the straps along your arms. You add it to the mess across the stage as a low shudder underlines the music. You turn, shyly, scared, and face him again.

You still, unable to even try. You can’t pretend. You don’t belong here. He’s making that clear. You came in here and now he’s showing you what’s what. Your lips part as you look at him, his hand on his crotch as he bites his lip. You blink dumbly.

You hide your body with your arms, “can I go now?”

“Go where?” He breathes as he squeezes himself, “we’re not done.”

“I…” you tuck your chin down, “please–”

“I’m hard as fuck, sweetheart, you’re not gonna leave me like this,” he drags his hand away to reveal the bulge in his pants, “so come here and take care of it.”

You gape at him. No. You’re married. And he’s a stranger.

You look down at your body and muster what’s left of your courage. You let your arms hang straight, letting him see everything. Heat spatters across your flesh, from nape to heel, sinking into your core. You quiver, for a moment confused by the plucking that feels so familiar and yet, not.

You urge yourself forward, feet flat and uncertain. Your thighs brush together as you step down from the stage and you let out a wisp. Bucky purrs as you come closer and reaches out to take you by the hips. His thumbs graze the raised flesh of your stretch marks and you latch onto his wrists.

“Please–”

“Please,” he echoes and pulls you between his knees, leaning forward to kiss the imperfections, “beautiful.”

You swallow and shake your head, “don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t fucking lie,” he breathes against your skin, teeth grazing hotly, “mm, you are so fucking hot…” he tilts his head back to look at you, his hand trailing up to grope your chest, “I told you I was right.”

Your tongue swipes between your lips and you watch how he fondles you, the doting of his hand as he rolls his thumb around your nipple. He snakes his hand under your arm and pulls you with him as he sits back. He guides you to straddle his lap.

His touch explores your torso and his breath fans over your chest. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and takes it in his mouth, suckling as he cups your other tit. He plays with you, his mouth replacing his other hand as he leaves a smear of spit across your skin. 

He kneads your ass as he rocks your hips against him. He hums, the vibration thrumming through you, as he grinds you against his crotch. He snarls and falls back against the couch.

“You make me wait any longer, sweetheart, and you’re going to ruin my pants,” he rasps and nods to his body, “get on me.”

You look down at him, his jacket wide to reveal the dark shirt taut across his broad chest. You shakily put your hands on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle and letting them wander down his hard torso. You watch your hands as if they’re someone else’s. 

You stop at the button along his fly. He growls and bucks his hips in encouragement, bouncing you. You pick open the button and zipper, brushing along his bulge and eliciting a gritty snarl. You push down the top of his boxers and reach beneath to wrap your fingers around him. He groans as you pull him out, stroking him as you admire his thick length.

“More than you’re used to?” He chuckles as he runs his hand along your thigh.

You lift yourself on your knees and angle against him, pushing his tip along your folds. He catches your chin and pokes his thumb along your lip as you guide him against your cunt. You lower yourself, stretching around him little by little. You stop halfway and whimper.

“Oh, baby, I know you can do it,” he cradles your face, “come on, just a little more–”

You sink down completely and he gasps, squeezing your head between his hands as he throws his head back. He sneers between his teeth as you grasp his shoulders and let out a billowy breath. You whine as you rock against him.

“Sweetheart,” he snickers as he pulls his hands away, “fuck.”

He grips your hip and tilts you, leading your motion as his eyes descend your body. You follow his pace, slipping a hand down to his chest as you moan. You’ve never been so full, so free. It’s wrong but you feel nothing but delight.

He dips his other hand down and bends his fingers along your clit, toying with you as he keeps your moving. You whine as your core pulses and the pleasure laces around your nerves, drawing them tighter and tighter. You roll your eyes back and hum as you suck in your bottom lip.

“You feel how fucking wet you are for me,” he rubs you faster, “I thought I told you not to ruin these pants.”

You groan as you carry your tempo, curling your fingers into his shoulder as his hand trails up your back. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, kissing you and swallowing up your moans as he keeps his fingertips pressed to your clit. You quaver as the tension winds to a fever pitch.

You tear your mouth from his and clutch his head between your hands as you cum. You cry out as you rest your lips against his hairline, shaking as the release flows from you. He grunts and hooks his arm around you.

He flips you onto your back as you exclaim. He pushes into you as deep as he can go and pulls back, thrusting sharply so you whimper. He slides back, pausing, then slams in again. He does it over and over, slamming in harder and harder as your walls cling to his long strokes.

“You even remember his name, sweetheart?” He puffs as he pounds into you, his hand stretching across your throat, “tell me, baby, who’s your daddy?”

You groan and push against his hip as he ruts, hammering you into the cushions. The world tilts and spins around you, your anger, your doubts, all lost to the whirlwind of his fucking. You clasp his thick arm and whine.

“Tell me, baby,” he demands as he squeeze your neck.

“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”

“Who am I, baby?” 

“Daddy,” you drone and your head lolls in another wave of ecstasy, “daddy, please, daddy…”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #brock rumlow #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers #au #winter soldier #crossbones

[sjsmith56]

The Fae Elements, Part 4 - Hidden

Summary: Hidden together by magic in a forest sanctuary, Buck reveals more of Sage’s powers and his long-held interest in her. He also tells her more of his own past.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Buck, Sage, Dark Overlord (briefly)

Warnings: Some frank talk of sexuality and a brief moment of consensual sex (not descriptive except in a poetic sense?), feelings of shame from Buck at his own struggles.

Author notes: The images of fae Bucky above were created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode. I wish there was a way to tell the app to build upon a specific image but it kept bringing up different variations so that’s been written into the story.

<<Part 3

🌳 🪓 🏡

My first thought when I entered the cottage was that it was bigger on the inside. My second thought was why was there only one bed? An enigmatic smile appeared on Buck’s face as those thoughts entered my mind.

“Can you read my mind?” I asked, unsure whether I should be angry and more guarded with myself.

He shrugged. “I try not to, but sometimes your thoughts are very transparent and insert themselves into mine. It’s bigger on the inside because of magic. The outside, because it was built by my hands, never changes. There's only one bed now because it is a sanctuary for one, me.  Hope originally lived with me until her 18th year then chose to live in the stronghold. When my children have been here since, they have used their own magic to construct their own structure. I can make one for you, if you wish, but it would be a basic hut as I’m at the limit of my own magic with everything here and some things outside. You’re my guest so you get the bed. The sofa isn’t that comfortable, but I meant what I said about respecting you.” My next thought must have been transparent because he grinned. “I have four children. Hope is the second youngest. She’s 335 years old. My youngest, a half-fae, Richard, is 78. He is the result of a night where my loneliness and the loneliness of a kind mortal woman coincided. He chose to live in the mortal world, and I respect his decision. I have two more sons, twins Arthur and John, who are 357 years old. Twins are a rarity in the fae world. They were the first children Daere and I had.”

“You had no others with your other wives?”

“No, Daere was mortal, like you,” he said, looking me in the eye. “She chose to undergo the ritual when we married and became more fertile than the others.” He grimaced a little, I guess he didn’t want to reveal that, then gestured with his hand. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

He led me up a set of stairs that was more of a ladder into the attic of the cottage. A window at each end provided light from the outside but as soon as we stepped into the space a host of candles lit up, showing a rustic bedroom with a large bed in front of one of the windows. There was living greenery hanging from the rafters and corners, giving the space a feeling of being in a greenhouse sanctuary. A doorway set in one side of the sloped roof led to a large dormer with a stunning bathroom containing a tub and separate shower. The thought of there being running water out here made me giggle and he looked at me with a questioning glance.

“Just the thought of having such a beautiful bathroom in such a rustic cottage made me wonder about how you would get running water out here. It’s magic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s magic,” he replied. “When I first built it, I used an outhouse and washed at the pump by the kitchen sink, but as personal hygiene improved over the centuries, I made improvements here as well. The addition was built by me, but the furnishings are all magic.”

“Were you always fae?” For a moment, I regretted my choice of words, but he must have sensed it because he smiled. “Sorry to be so nosy but you seem to like doing things by hand.”

“It’s a fair question to ask, since I admitted to building the structure manually, an unusual thing for my kind,” he answered. He breathed out. “I was half-fae, the result of a love affair between a mortal man and my fae mother, a descendant of Lilith. I lived with him for a time when I was searching for my own truth. He was a learned man who was a carpenter and taught me his trade. When it became evident that I had inherited my mother’s powers of longevity, and eternal youth, he encouraged me to join the world of the fae. It was the Middle Ages, and the plague took him in 1349 when I was away for a short time. I mourned him for he taught me much of how mortals live. It was a surprise to myself and to many when I was chosen as a candidate to be fae king. I became full fae upon my coronation.” He stepped towards the doorway. “I’m going to change and cut some wood for the fireplace and stove. There’s nothing like a fire to warm one’s soul. You can have the far dresser and closet in the room. Excuse me.”

He left me there in the bathroom, so I put my toiletries in the cabinet then ventured out to the bedroom, knocking before I came through. Buck was already gone so I put my clothes away and went down the ladder, noticing the candles in the bedroom went out behind me as I descended. I could hear the sound of an ax outside. Seeming to have found a steady rhythm of swinging and hitting the wood, I could hear it when he tossed the pieces into piles. While he did that, I looked around the main room of the cottage. There was a kitchen area, with a wood stove, sink with a pump beside it, shelves with plates, bowls, and drinking vessels. A cupboard was full of basic staples like sugar, salt, coffee, tea and the like. There was no refrigerator, although there was a pantry that seemed to have canned and dried foods. The fireplace area had two large armchairs facing it with a sofa behind them against the wall. There were bookshelves in many of the open spaces, full of many titles, both classic and modern.

When I finally made my way outside, I stopped in my tracks at the sight before me. Buck had taken his shirt off, displaying a broad muscular chest and shoulders. His biceps were impressive leading to powerful forearms with noticeable veins. On his left shoulder and chest was a large tattoo of a leafless tree, it’s branches seemingly splitting into infinity, with roots that went deep. It was very much in keeping with his presence in this forest. He turned towards me as I stepped out, smiling slightly at my sudden interest in his body.

“You up to some foraging? With your camping experience I would think you could tell edible mushrooms and berries from poisonous ones. There’s a basket with a handle in the kitchen. There should also be wild lettuce greens or fiddlehead greens near the trees. I would rather not fish or hunt for meat just yet. When we’ve been here a while, I’ll have a better idea of which animals are ready to leave their existence.”

He didn’t elaborate, returning to cutting the wood. Since our lunch had been interrupted, I was actually quite hungry. I found the basket and set out on a hunt for berries, finding strawberries mostly, and some fiddle head greens. I even found some asparagus, biting into one of the smaller stalks raw, enjoying the delicate taste. The mushrooms were another matter, and I brought a cloth to put the ones that looked closely like those I bought in the store, not wishing to contaminate the other food if they proved to be a poisonous variety. By the time I found my way back, which wasn’t hard, as all paths seemed to lead back to the cottage, Buck had finished cutting wood and started up the stove. He also put a shirt on, albeit one that seemed to display those impressive muscles quite well. He looked at the basket I was carrying.

“Well done,” he said. “Asparagus is still in season.” He lifted up the cloth to view the mushrooms, breathing their scent in. “They’re good, all of them. I should be able to make something quite tasty for us.”

He pulled some onions and garlic out of the pantry, chopping the former coarsely and the latter finely. Putting the onions on a low heat to sweat their juices out, he lightly sautéed the mushrooms whole, then took them out and added some chopped potatoes, which must have been hiding in the pantry as well, although I didn’t see them. After salting and peppering them he let them cook for a time while he used a gentle brush to clean the asparagus and fiddlehead greens. He did have some olive oil and poured some in a second pan, tossing the asparagus around first then removing it, and doing the same to the fiddlehead greens. Arranging everything on a platter he went into the pantry, coming out with a small jar with a round shaped dark brown mass inside. The mass glowed when he rested his hand on the jar for a moment, then he opened it and an earthy smell wafted out. He shaved several flakes of it off onto the food, then returned it to the jar, placing it under an enchantment again.

“Truffles,” he said. “Their smell and flavour are quite intense, so I just shave a little bit on. Since I don’t have a refrigerator, I have to use magic to preserve them.” He looked over at a cabinet. “There is some red wine inside there. The top row has some that don’t require a lot of airing. Any one of them should go with this little feast.”

I went to the cabinet, opening it to see a large selection inside and pulled a bottle from the top row. Bringing it over to the table as he brought the food and some dishes, as well as a couple of wine glasses, he opened the bottle with a corkscrew and poured it out into the glasses.

“No music, I’m afraid, except for the sound of the birds and the breeze outside.” He waited for me to sit, then sat across from me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone, fae or mortal. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given us. I think that fits.”

“Lord of the Rings,” I said, after we both sipped our wine, which was very very good. “Gandalf said that to Frodo.”

“I personally believe Tolkien knew a few fae,” replied Buck. “He certainly understood much of our world. Some mortals were capable of that.”

I cut one of the mushrooms in half and brought it up to my mouth. It was quite a difference tasting a freshly harvested mushroom from one that had sat on a store display for a time. The fiddlehead green was tender, as was the asparagus, while the potatoes seemed to be there to fill up our bellies with goodness. It was modest fare, but it was satisfying, and I thanked Buck for the tasty meal.

“Oh dear, you’ve said something you never should to a fae,” sighed Buck. “A mortal shouldn’t say thank you to a fae as it implies that you’re in their debt, in a contract you didn’t agree to. Instead, say I’m grateful. I’m worldly enough to know there is no obligation but certain fae would take advantage of your thanks.”

“Well then, I’m grateful for the meal and for everything you’ve done for me,” I stated. “I know I wasn’t the most understanding person in the Washington home but when Hope made it clear I’ve been under your protection for a long time I began to see things differently.”

“She shouldn’t have told you. What I said about not taking advantage is mostly true, but I am fae and there are times I let my own desires rule my actions.”

He picked up the dishes, taking them over to the sink. After filling a large pot with water, he set it on the wood stove to heat up, not making eye contact with me. At first, I watched, then I went over to where he stood, his back still to me, as he looked out the window to the early evening scene. Touching his arm gently brought a small smile to his face.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Because you might not like me after I tell you,” he answered, turning his gaze on me, “and I do like you very much. I have for a long time and have struggled not to let my personal feelings rule my decisions.”

Those blue eyes seemed uncertain, and I was intuitive enough to know that meant he had a hard truth to share. In my line of work there were many occasions when I needed to hear a hard truth. Sometimes we put people on a pedestal expecting a level of behaviour from them that is unrealistic, then are angry at them when they show they are human after all. Fae, or fairy people, in the stories I read were tiny creatures flitting about from flower to flower. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, they could be capricious, jealous creatures, sometimes doing something spiteful just so they could have their way, regardless of who it hurt.

The reality of meeting not just one fae but several had shown them to be physically attractive, although Buck had admitted his appearance wasn’t completely true. I had seen the wings and thought they were incredibly majestic. Physically he was a beautiful man with a poet’s soul. He startled me slightly, when I felt the touch of his fingertips on my cheek. His gaze was soft, seeming to stoke a response deep inside me, something I hadn’t really felt before.

“Let’s wash the dishes and relax for the evening,” he suggested. “Tomorrow, when we’ve both slept and had a chance to unwind from the events of today, I will tell you some things.”

When the water in the pot boiled, he poured it into the sink, adding a few pumps of cold water into it to make it manageable. Just like at the healing pond shower, there was a small sponge that lathered up as he wet it and rubbed it over the dishes. While he washed, I dried and put things back. When the pots were done, he pulled the sink plug and the water drained out to whatever magic septic tank system he had created in his sanctuary. The remaining wine was stoppered for consumption at another time.

With that agreed upon Buck picked a book out from a shelf and began reading. As it darkened outside, candles on the inside lit up, casting the space in a soft light. With a fire going in the fireplace, it was warm and cozy, as I settled in front of it, content to watch the flickering flames for my entertainment. I was tired and a lot of things had happened that I wanted to mull over in my own mind. Eventually, I could feel my head dropping as it became heavier.

“Sage,” said Buck, gently, kneeling beside the chair where I sat. “I think you should go to bed. I’m coming up to wash myself and grab some night clothes, but I’ll be out of your way quickly.”

With a nod, I stood up, then climbed the ladder ahead of him. As he disappeared into the bathroom, I chose some sleeping clothes then waited for my turn to wash up. As he exited, we said goodnight to each other and I washed, changed, then slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately feeling like I was sinking into something soft and warm.

I did wake up once and looked out the window. In the moonlight I could see a figure, who I assumed was Buck, but he was just far enough away that I couldn’t be sure. He faced the full light of the moon barefoot, wearing only a pair of cloth bottoms. His top was unclothed, and his arms were outstretched in the pale beams as if he was taking in its light for sustenance. His wings were also outstretched, almost straining to lift him up into the night sky. A bird swooped in close then landed and transformed into a dark-skinned man, his dark brown wings spreading apart. When he turned to face the moon’s light it seemed to be Sam Wilson, but he was too far away for me to be sure. After several long moments of them standing there, side by side, they faced each other, having an earnest conversation. Several times they both looked in my direction, but I didn’t know if they were aware I was watching. Eventually, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning.

The sounds of food preparation in the kitchen area reached my ears in the bedroom, making me open my eyes. Sunlight shone through the window at the other end, and I sat up. Almost on cue a head appeared at the top of the ladder.

“Good morning,” said Buck. “I hope you slept well. I’m making some breakfast if you want to freshen up and join me. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

When I descended, he had everything ready, omelettes with a soft cheese filling, toasted bread, and coffee, along with more berries. It was basic fare, but filling and I felt satisfied. We cleaned up the dishes together, then Buck left to get changed. When he returned, he looked like he was dressed for a hike.

“Do you feel up for a walk?” he said. “I’ll show you my little private corner of the world and we’ll talk.”

After giving me a moment to take care of some personal needs, I found him waiting outside for me. We headed into the forest, walking without talking for some time until we came to a sunlit glade. The morning dew was still on the blades of grass, making them look like they had diamonds on them. Even the spider webs strung between some of the taller grasses and brambles glistened in the morning light. We walked some more until we came out to a spot overlooking a broad valley. A split log rested between two boulders, and he gestured to me to sit on it.

“All this land, as far as the eye can see is under an enchantment,” he said quietly. “There are trees here that are older than a thousand years. It’s all so precious but even it is in danger. When I leave this life, my magic will no longer protect it and it will be as much at risk of exploitation as any other place in the world.”

“What of the next fae king?” I asked. “Won’t his magic protect it?”

“He could be a fae aligned with another element or be one of those who clings to the old ways, harassing mortal folk and kidnapping their children to be his servants. It’s not something I have control over.”

There was something sad about how he said that, as if he didn’t have much hope. Without even thinking I reached out my hand to his and squeezed it. He smiled and kept our hands together.

“Sam came to see me in the night. I know you saw us together. It’s safer for them to visit then as it’s harder to be tracked here. The person who betrayed our presence was a half-fae. Not Maria.” He noticed my look of concern. “They kidnapped her, used dark magic to get the location out of her. My people repelled the attack on the safe house but a couple of the dark fae broke through the barrier. The one who followed us was one of them. Thank goodness Loki saw him and followed him to the beach. He slew him and identified him as one of Rumlow’s Horde. It’s almost certain Rumlow is the Dark Overlord. His appearance in the court where you were is no coincidence.”

“So, he was trying to take me on the street?” I asked. “How would he know about me, if I’ve been under your protection?”

A distressed look appeared on his face, and he turned to me.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t really known, not in its entirety,” he answered. “I’ve told differing versions of it even to my own people because I haven’t always acted in an honourable manner. But I promised you the truth. What I said about meeting your parents on their honeymoon camping trip was true. What I didn’t say was that somehow, as they hiked the back country they breached the boundary of my hidden haven. It was only when I confronted them that I realized your mother was a descendant of Lilith. My first instinct was to slay your father and take her for my own, which was well within my rights as fae king, but I realized your father also had fae in him, not as strongly evident as your mother but it was definitely there. In fact, his fae bloodline is an ancient one.  That stayed my hand, but I did fall in love with both of them, so I led them back to the cottage and allowed them to set up their tent outside. I originally offered them the bedroom, but I think instinctively they knew they would be obligated to me in a way they weren’t comfortable with.”

“You wanted a threesome?” That wasn’t something I expected to ask about my parents. “I thought you were still in mourning.”

He shrugged. “So did I, but fae can be gender fluid and I’m not immune to the pleasures of the flesh, at the right moment. It’s how my youngest child was conceived when his mother’s needs required my attentions in a very basic way. Yes, I admit a threesome would have been my expectation if they accepted my offer, but I read their reluctance accurately, quickly realizing their love was only for each other as they took the promise of fidelity in their marriage seriously. I tempered my desires, but I realized your mother’s bloodline was so strong that any other fae might not be so understanding and would slay your father outright. The Dark Overlord would definitely have taken Fern for his own.”

“A desire to protect your parents grew in me during their stay as my guests. I dampened your mother’s gift, with her knowledge and permission, for she had always known she was sensitive to otherworldly beings. Your father’s profession was one that could be bolstered by fae interests, and he agreed to help manage our financial assets. Even though he was a free spirit in many ways, he understood our need to be independent financially, especially in these modern times. It was his suggestion to invest in ethical operations, making them stronger, while making us wealthier. Gaia Life was his idea, a non-profit organization that strove to undo the damage done to the environment by encouraging sustainable development and ecologically sound practices. He was well ahead of his time and his association with Gaia Life meant it was easier for me to keep your family safe.”

It explained a lot of things. My parents were quite liberal in their love of music, art and culture, while voting progressively, openly pro-choice, and displaying a lot of empathy for social issues. My mother was a teacher, and my father a financial consultant who rarely talked about his clients. We lived a privileged life, yet we always spent time working in soup kitchens, going out on highway cleanup events and other things that involved us physically helping someone or something. I was surprised that he never mentioned Gaia Life to me, especially since I became an environmental lawyer, and I would have met Buck at some point.

“Why did I never meet you until my father’s funeral?” I asked. “You said you saw me as I grew up. If you met my father regularly you would have known that I went into environmental law.”

“I did know,” he sighed. “It was a promise I made to your father to stay out of your life as much as possible.” He was quiet again, making me wonder if this was the part where I might not like him. “Can I touch your forehead and temples? I want to share some memories with you. It will help provide context to many things.”

It was a strange request but in the last 5 ½ weeks I had been exposed to many new things that I never knew existed before. I agreed and we faced each other. With the lightest of touches, he spread his fingertips from both hands over my forehead and temples, then gazed at me intently before closing his eyes. Instinctively I closed mine as well and felt like I was being drawn through a swirling mass of images and voices until we ended up at a lake, a lake I remembered very well, as we went there every summer when my brothers and I were kids. It was the best of times, full of laughter and good memories. Then my father’s face appeared, and I realized it was a memory of him, my mother, and Buck talking as us kids played in the water.

“You have two choices,” said Buck, his voice sounding ominous. “Do nothing and the Dark Overlord will sense her. He will come for her and take her for his own, adding her fae powers to his. Or you can give her to me, and I can take her to our stronghold. She will be raised as fae royalty, given training to counter the dark fae magic, and most of all, she will be safe.”

My mother spoke then, and her face appeared in Buck’s view. “No, I refuse to believe there isn’t a third option. I know you fae don’t love your children quite the same way we mortals do but you can’t expect us to give her up. Will you use magic to make her forget us? She deserves to choose the life she wants. Whether that is to live as mortal or as a fae should be up to her, no one else.”

“I agree with Fern,” added my father. “You told us on our honeymoon that any daughter we had would have strong fae powers and we accepted that. We’ve encouraged her to read all sorts of fantasy and mythology-based books and to be open to other beings living hidden in this world. When she’s older we can reveal the truth to her, and she can decide then. But I’m not about to let you take her when she’s only eleven years old. She’s a child.”

“She’s about to enter puberty and her powers will shine like a beacon after her first bleed,” answered Buck. “Although the light fae would still see her as a child and allow her to mature at her own pace, the dark fae will consider her an adult at that point. The Dark Overlord will take her for his bride and will not be gentle with her.” His view went to the children in the lake, focusing on Sage, then back at her parents. “Do not ever accuse me of not loving my children the way mortals do. Even though we don’t raise them as humans raise their own, they are still loved and cared for. I have a half-fae son who chose to give up his powers and live a mortal life in the human world. His safety and wellbeing are important to me. Sage’s are just as important.”

“Can’t you dampen her gift like you did mine?” asked my mother. “Can’t you keep her hidden that way?”

Buck sighed. “It will take a lot out of me and there will be times I might not be able to maintain it, opening her to danger during those times. If she lived in the stronghold the combined powers of the fae there would be able to protect her when I cannot. Even I have my limits.”

“Please,” begged my father. “If you take her, it will destroy us.”

There was silence then Buck looked at me again before looking at my parents. “I can give her a gift. If she accepts it, then she binds herself to me. It is a promise that at some point I will collect on, but I can wait until she is an adult, when it will become my duty to enlighten her to her powers. The bond created by the gift will make it easier for me to dampen her powers so that the Dark Overlord doesn’t sense her.”

My parents looked at each other, then at me, their faces showing the dilemma of the decision they had to make.

“Promise, you’ll allow her to live as a mortal until she’s of age by fae standards.” My father was emphatic.

“For as long as it’s possible,” agreed Buck. “If she turns 30 and doesn’t manifest her powers I will wait even longer. You have my word.”

They both nodded their heads then Buck made them say it out loud, essentially creating the contract between them.  He reached around his neck and took a silver necklace off, a necklace with a pendant of a tree showing its bare branches and roots.

Automatically, my hand went to my neck, touching the necklace that in my memory had been given to me by my parents. I had worn it ever since, never taking it off. Although it was silver, it had never tarnished. Now, I knew why. Buck removed his fingertips from my face and sat on the bench, looking off into the distance. He said nothing, whether because he was ashamed or if whatever he said was irrelevant now didn’t seem to matter. Regardless, Buck waited.

“The orchid, that was a gift as well,” I said. “Was that also to bind me to you?”

“No, it was a talisman to provide extra protection after I met with you at your office. I went to further assess your powers and thought it prudent to provide you with as much protection as I could. It still hurt when I saw it destroyed. The Dark Overlord would see it as something binding us and that was a message to me that he wouldn’t respect it. He didn’t know about the necklace but the man who choked you was burned by its power. He would certainly have reported it.”

“Were you lying to my parents?”

“No! I respected them too much and I respect you. I omitted to tell you things, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. It was a false hope. But with my own powers stretched to the limit even then without any sort of binding agreement or contract there had to be something that could strengthen the protection I gave you. I didn’t intend to collect for a long time, as long as you were still protected. When you saw me at the funeral, I realized your powers were becoming stronger than the dampening spell and it was only a matter of time before the dark fae became aware of you. That proved to be very accurate.” He stood up. “There is more but I think you’ve heard enough for the day. I need to be alone for a while. Return to the cottage and stay close to it.”

His wings appeared and he took off, quickly fading into the distant sky. I remembered the day my parents seemed to have an intense discussion with a person while we were on holidays at the lake, but I still couldn’t picture who the third person was, realizing Buck had shielded himself from my memory. Perhaps it was him that made it seem the necklace given to me was from my parents, an acknowledgement that he wouldn’t reveal himself to me until he collected on the debt. He hadn’t revealed himself at the funeral either; that was my own magic doing it. I stood up to return to the cottage, seeing the path there was marked ahead of me with rocks. It was evident that Buck couldn’t waste any magic, making me wonder how much of the fae world needed his magic to protect it, yet he was using it on me, a mortal.

Maybe that is when I realized I was running away from what I really was. I had been hidden almost my entire life. Yes, it was for my own protection, but it also hid the real me. I was fae and even if I chose not to mate, losing powers that I didn’t know I had, nothing would change that. My mother’s bloodline extended to the first woman to say no to what was expected of her, Lilith. My father’s bloodline had fae in it as well, enough that Bucky didn’t kill him and take my mother as his prize. That left Bucky, the fae king who had offered me marriage, long life, eternal youth, power, and children, all of it on my terms.

Hope said he had feelings for me. Had he started to developed feelings for me when he gifted the necklace? Did he suppress those feelings about me as I grew older, became an adult, then a lawyer? By my reckoning it was 20 years between the time I received the necklace and my father’s death. I was 31, not a child anymore and any disgust he had possibly felt in himself about taking a child bride could no longer apply to me. Perhaps to a roughly 700-year-old fae I was still very young, yet he had been very much restrained in all of our meetings. It was always my choice; he made that very clear from the start.

When I arrived back at the cottage, I felt like staying busy, so I searched nearby for some greens and picked them along with some nuts that I found and more berries. Leaving them in the kitchen I returned outside and laid in a hammock, looking up at the sky. Letting my mind wander, I listened to the sound of the trees and the birds, letting them wash over me. It was calming and relaxing and soon I drowsed off. It was dusk when I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” said Buck. He raised a hand, showing a couple of fish, hanging from a hook. “I had much to think about. At least, I caught us some dinner.”

Carefully getting out of the hammock I stood up and looked at him, at the last golden rays of the sun, making his dark hair look lighter. The forest was definitely his element. In a suit and tie, he looked elegant but here he looked like he belonged.

“I thought about what you said and showed me,” I began. “How much of your powers are being used to protect me?”

“A considerable amount,” he admitted. “Once the Solstice has passed a ritual can strip your powers and you can live as a mortal without fear. My powers will no longer be needed.”

“What if I wish to embrace my fae heritage? What if I decide to agree to the marriage and the Solstice ritual? Will you teach me how to be fae? Will that take more of your powers away from you?”

“No, I have no more to give. It would just be redirected into your education into the fae world. It means you would be open to attack although we should be safe here and you would learn how to defend yourself. The stronghold would also be safe with the combined powers of all the fae protecting you.” He swallowed. “Have you decided?”

“I think I have.” I touched my necklace. “I was always meant to be your queen, wasn’t I? You were looking for the right descendant of Lilith and the fact my mother was already taken meant her daughter was the next best candidate.” He looked uncomfortable as there was a bit of weirdness about it, by mortal standards anyways. “I’m not accusing you of anything nefarious. You’ve admitted your faults and haven’t lied outright about anything. You’ve told me what I needed to hear. So, my answer to your question is another question. If I say yes, will you allow yourself to love me, openly and without reservation? I can’t accept anything less.”

A softness came over Buck’s face then, making him seem younger and less burdened with the worries of his position. He laid the fish on a bench, then rubbed his hands through a nearby plant, releasing the scent of lemon. Placing his hands on my cheeks, he gazed into my eyes.

“I already love you, Sage. Telling you I was incapable of it was the only actual lie I spoke, as I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t fully understand. If we marry, it is truly for life. I am 715 years of age, old for most fae, but a fae king can live for 1500 or more years. You are 31, barely out of childhood by fae standards but there are some who married younger than you. After the ritual your life span can extend to as long as that of a fae king, provided you truly wish it. I could say the words right now that I want to say when we marry but I want to wait.”

I started to protest as I was ready, but he placed his hands on mine, raising them to his lips.

“It is a life-changing commitment and asks you to sacrifice much. If you are truly ready, then a week will not change anything. In that week, I will tell you everything that I didn’t tell you earlier and show you my true self. You deserve that much before you make your final decision. If you still agree to marry me, I will advise my court of the decision and they can prepare for the Summer Solstice ceremony. You must understand that your family cannot be there, as it is not open to those not of the fae world, other than the bride. Plus, there is the matter that your mother no longer remembers me. There are ways around it, but it is something we need to talk about.”

He was right. There were still things that had to be said and done before I could make that final commitment. Leaving the real world to live in a mystical one was going to be a big adjustment, even if I would still have a presence in the human world. Reluctantly, I agreed, and he hugged me then began to release me. As I looked up at him, a change came over his face and he lowered his lips to mine, hesitating briefly before touching my lips with his. The kiss started out soft and sweet, then deepened, as our lips opened to each other. I could feel a heat stirring deep inside my body, an urgency unlike anything I had ever felt before. Pulling away, I breathed heavily, noticing Buck was also affected.

“We have to wait for the Solstice, right?”

He smiled in a way that sent a thrill through me. “No, we don’t. We can have all the sex we want until the day of the wedding.” His fingertips reached for my hair, and he ran his hand down my shoulder to my hand, pulling me closer. “The consummation requirements of the ceremony require us to make love when the sun is at its highest and the moon is at its lowest, in the sacred places where we’ll be. Until then, we can do what we damn well please.”

It was like a switch had been flipped as we threw ourselves at each other. Using magic, he sent the fish to the kitchen then he picked me up and carried me into the house, up the ladder into the bedroom, the candles coming on as we entered. As our clothes came off, I noticed his tattoo had changed, pointing it out to him. He laughed, a sound that was just as sexy now as the first time I heard him.

“My body is a living breathing canvas in constant flux,” he explained, as he pressed his lips into my neck, mouthing the pulse point under my ear. “The forest is always changing, and my tattoos reflect that. I am fae and my ties to the natural world involve my whole body.”

As he laid me down on the bed, removing the rest of our clothes effortlessly I couldn’t stop watching the way the markings on his body shifted and rippled as the level of our excitement rose. I forgot about all of that the moment we joined, yielding to the pleasure I was feeling. As my mind drifted towards the inevitable climax that was building it seemed I was on another plane of existence. When it happened, I could feel it all, the touch of the breeze in the night, the rustling of the leaves in that breeze, the scent of the flowers that bloom in the glow of the moon, ending with the sound of his wings unfurling and beating at the moment we both came, before enclosing us in their soft but protective embrace. It was profound and I never wanted to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.

“Amica mea,” whispered Buck. “At last, I found you.” His lips were on mine again as we both came down from the high of our union, then he gazed at me. “It means my love in Latin, the most sacred language of the fae.”

“Is it always like that?” I gazed right back at him, amazed that this beautiful man was mine.

“Always. When you transform, you will be part of the life of this planet and will feel it in your veins.” He interlaced his fingers with mine. “Together we will heal the scars that blight the land.”

That’s when I saw him. I saw a vision of the Dark Overlord in his human and fae form. He was wearing a suit, looking like he did that day in court when I failed to prove HYDRA Mining had polluted the waterways. As his gaze turned to see me, I stiffened in response. Then Brock Rumlow sneered at me.

“There you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been looking for you. It won’t take me long to find you, my treasure, my precious Sage. Tell Barnes I’ll find a way into his haven. When I do, I will slay him and take what is mine.”

He began to transform into his fae form, and I cried out as it was horrible, his red eyes and dark grey skin displaying the image of a demon, full of venom and fury. As I closed my eyes to rid myself of that image, Buck’s voice came through, calling my name, as he stroked my face and head. He didn’t need words to know what I had seen but wasn’t surprised when I told him who it was. There was a history there, that much was obvious. This vision was Rumlow’s shot across the bow, his revelation of his plans. It was a taunt and a promise, and I was very much afraid.

Part 5>>

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[moriartyyouwhore]

if I’m gonna have permanent bruises on my knees anyway… can they at least be from kneeling to blow Joel Miller

#joel miller #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #this also applies to the following… #joseph lawrence #commander lawrence #izzy hands #daryl dixon #rick grimes #autism or as I like to call it permanently bruised with no fucking clue why disease #oberyn martell #agent whiskey #otto octavius #doc ock #every asshole Hugh Grant has ever played #tony stark #brock rumlow #soldier boy

[randomlittleimp]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow Characters: Brock Rumlow, Darcy Lewis, Phil Coulson, Jane Foster (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Jack Rollins Additional Tags: Darcy Lewis's iPod, Morally grey Brock Rumlow, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Stalker, Triple Agent Brock Rumlow, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Anal Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Bondage, someones been reading too much dark romance, Gun Violence, Murder, Attempted Murder Summary:

Brock Rumlow is not a good person. So when he lays eyes on Darcy Lewis he knows he has to have her. And it doesn't matter to him if she wants him at all, she'll learn to want him.

#fanfic #taserbones #dark romance #brock rumlow #darcy lewis

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Civil War Brooklyn

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2570

Summary: Brock’s mansion is finally raided by Steve & Bucky. The reader, not waiting to be saved, takes matters into her own hands. No more being a victim is her mentality as she makes her way through the mansion. When she is finally reunited with her men she wants nothing but revenge. Don’t cross a woman with anything left to lose.

Warnings: Violence, Minor Death, Mention of Torture

A/N: Finally after this being on hiatus since 2021 I bring you a new chapter. Thank you to those who understood why it took so long to write. It’s been a tough road health wise but I’m hoping now things will be updated more often.

A/N 2: Thank you to my beta readers @pigwidgeonxo​ & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog​ & @music-culture-mythology​. Without you this would never have gotten out. (All grammar and spelling mistakes are my own.)

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. Even if you leave an emoji you will make my day. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Steve, Bucky, and Tony parked their SUVs just down the street from the mansion you were being held at. Their crew consisted of Rhodey, Nat, Clint, Thor, Loki, and fifty other men that worked for them collectively. This was going to be an ambush and Hydra agents were going to be slaughtered. Fury had given Steve and Bucky the green light to do whatever was necessary to get you to safety. They had a small window of time to get in and get out before Fury showed up with the remainder of Shield and the FBI. 

One of their men was set to have the power shut down to the mansion. This would give them the coverage of darkness that they needed to go in guns blazing. Steve’s phone finally dinged with the order to move in from Fury. Quickly the lights went out in the mansion and the ambush descended onto the Hydra home. Hopefully, you weren’t in bad shape when they found you or hell would freeze over.

You stood there, knife in your right hand as the lights went out inside the room you were in. The sounds of footsteps running around and shouting could be heard clearly. This is what would make your fight for your life easier. Remembering all the skills you learned over your life you gripped the knife tighter. The sound of a key unlocking the door to your room seemed louder in your mind. You crouched behind the door waiting for whoever decided to come into the lion's den.

The door was pushed open by a tall, burly man who scanned the room for you. Keeping his back to you, you decided to strike fast like a viper. Quickly you stabbed the man in the neck, blood squirted everywhere as his finger squeezed the trigger causing the gun to go off twice. Your hand let go of the knife and you grabbed the Glock before it could hit you. The man fell dead at your feet and you had his Glock in hand. 

Outside the room, you heard yells from men and gunshots. Whatever was happening you needed to leave now before things got worse for you. Quickly you checked the gun for ammo and had thirteen bullets left. Looking down at the dead body you knelt next to him, pulling the knife out of his neck, and wiped the blood on him. If all else fails, this was your backup. 

Standing up you stalked slowly to the bedroom door, gun raised in defense. The echoes of gunfire continued outside the front door. You poked your head out quickly to see if there was anyone on your floor. Thankfully there was no one to be seen as you made your way to the stairs, back against the wall, you descended one step at a time. 

Halfway down the stairs, you saw a Hydra agent run through the front corridor. Your finger was quick, you shot him twice and he dropped dead. Your feet descended the rest of the stairs just as you saw another agent. You both saw each other simultaneously, guns raised as you hollered at him, “drop your gun now!”

“Not a chance in hell you bitch!” He shouted back with a sneer on his face.

Wrong thing to say to a woman unhinged. You lightly squeezed the trigger and shot him but not before he grazed your shoulder. You yelped in pain from where the bullet grazed you. More yelling and the commotion was growing louder outside as you took a right, heading into the kitchen. Gun still raised, you cleared the kitchen and could see through the window that the fighting in the backyard was slowing down. 

Who in the hell would attack Hydra? 

Behind you there was the sound of a boot on the floor that made you spin around, throwing the knife you had on you at the sound and training the gun on the person sneaking in. Your breath hitched as you came face to face with your blue-eyed and blonde-haired man Steve. The knife was embedded into the wall near his head.

“That was a great throw sweetheart.” He proudly said.

You ran and threw yourself into his arms, he quickly caught you. His familiar scent filled your senses as you nuzzled his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Steve smiled into your hair. “I would burn the whole world down just to find you.” You looked up at him and kissed him passionately. In your heart, you knew both men would rain hell on the world to get you back. You pulled away just in time to see Bucky shoot a Hydra agent that was approaching you both.

“Hate to break it up but we have a clearing in the front to leave,” Bucky said, as soft eyes landed on you. “Fury showed up with some of his men and they plan to secure the mansion until the FBI gets here and he wants us gone.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Let’s get you out of here and get you home.”

Bucky left first while you followed him and Steve followed behind. Gunshots had now ceased and Hydra agent bodies littered the front yard. It was a massacre. As you got closer to the SUVs you spotted Tony standing with Rhodey as they chatted. Tony caught sight of you with Steve and Bucky, and ran towards you, calling your name. You sprinted towards him and you both embraced. 

“Thank God you’re okay kiddo. I was so worried.” Tony spoke softly to you as he hugged you tighter. You squeaked out in pain from where you were injured. Tony pulled away to look you over and saw your arm lightly bleeding. 

“I will be okay.” You looked between Tony, Rhodey, Steve, and Bucky trying to brush off your injury. “Where is Brock? Is he dead?”

“He’s gonna wish he was once we find him.” Bucky blurted out. 

“Brock must have hopped on his boat down by the dock and taken off into the bay. Though our guys grabbed Zemo instead and took him to the barn.” Tony answered, trying to hold back his anger. Your stomach sank at hearing Brock got away but knowing Zemo was captured both scared and made you happy to seek out revenge against him for what he did to you. You knew what the barn was and that no one left alive. 

Steve and Bucky walked you to an SUV where you all made your way back to Tony’s place.

You sat at the kitchen table sipping whiskey from a glass as Dr. Cho patched up your left arm. The bullet as you thought grazed the skin. Once you were patched up you walked into the living room and to a large window that oversaw the barn. They had told you about Rollins going in there and you breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the bastard wasn’t coming back. 

You lost count of how many men went into the barn and the dark part of you didn’t care. Only the wicked go in and that’s where Zemo is now. Tony, Steve, and Bucky went in thirty minutes ago and hadn’t appeared yet. Tony told you to tell them everything Zemo did to you and reluctantly you did. Now you’re nursing a drink because this was going to be a long night. Revenge on Zemo goes beyond you, it also goes to Steve and Bucky. Zemo had tortured them a decade ago and you knew the boys wanted blood. For them and for what he did to you, they would have blood.

Finishing off your whiskey you decided to go to the barn to see your tormentor. Heading out the French doors you were met by one of Tony’s men who was standing guard. 

You nodded at him as you passed by and headed out to the barn. The sound of crickets filled the air on your short walk but that would change as you opened the door. 

Zemo was hanging by metal shackles from the ceiling and was shirtless. His body was littered with fresh cuts from one of the knives Bucky was holding. Tony sat in a chair watching as Steve and Bucky let loose on him. When they heard the door and saw you they stopped.

You looked at the pained face of Zemo and felt pity for the torture these men were causing. That was until Zemo spoke.

“Hello, my kotyonok. I’m so happy to see you again.”

Bile rose from your stomach at hearing the pet name he gave you. But you swore to yourself you wouldn’t let this man get to you. Not now or ever again. You grabbed a knife off the table, approaching Zemo menacingly. Both Bucky and Steve stood back as they watched you spin the knife in your hand.

“You won’t be happy to see me once I cut your balls off and shove them down your throat.” Your hand twirled the knife and you slashed him from neck to belly button. Zemo hissed out in pain but never broke his stare at you. “If I did that to you it would be a quick death and I would rather know you were going to suffer. When you’re being tortured I want you to think of me and the hell you put me through. Think of every time I begged you to stop and you didn’t. Not only will these three men in here torture you but I was told a certain man with the same tastes as you, torture, will be here any minute. You should know him, Lloyd Hansen.”

Zemo paled at the name but refused to beg for mercy. “When you go to sleep tonight little lamb will you dream of me or Brock? I’m so curious to know if I left a lasting impression…”

Your hand moved quickly as you stabbed him in the right shoulder causing him to holler out in pain. “I will never think about you again once I walk out of here. As for Brock, once he is in jail or dead he will never cross my mind again.” Turning on your heel you started to walk out but stopped at the door. “Make him pay, guys. Let him know he fucked with the wrong family.” On that note, you walked out of the barn, and before the doors closed you heard the sound of an electric screwdriver.

The next morning you woke up in bed between Steve and Bucky. There was no telling what time they joined you. You didn’t dare move as you watched both men sleep peacefully, each on their side facing you while you lay on your back. It was nice to finally feel safe again with them. With everything you have been through it was going to take time to heal your mind and body. Something you knew they could help you with over time. 

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, his soft blue eyes looking into yours as he smiled. “Good morning, doll.”

You smirked at the pet name and rolled onto your side to face him. “Morning Buck.”

“How did you sleep last night?” He inquired, watching you closely as you let out a sigh.

“I slept the best in ages honestly.” You spoke the truth. It had been over a month since you were with them last and that’s when you slept normally. With the trauma you went through with Zemo and Brock, sleep was not something that came easy. 

Bucky ran his hand up and down your arm. “I’m happy you slept. You need all the rest you can get.”

“Speaking of rest, when did you both crawl into bed?” 

“A couple of hours after you. Don’t worry, everything is taken care of and we have things under control.” Bucky reassured you, his hand moved from your arm and caressed your cheek. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into his hand as you placed your hand on his. 

Behind you, you felt warm lips kiss your shoulder. Steve stirred behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Less talking and more sleeping.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as these men did not like early mornings. Your eyes softly closed as you took in the feeling of them. Steve pressed against your back, his arm still holding tight. Your face was inches away from Bucky as he held your hand. This is where you belonged. This was your safe space. The three of you could do anything in this world as long as you were together. The last thought you had before you drifted off to sleep was that hell was going to rain down on Brock.

With Zemo off in an undisclosed location with Lloyd Hansen being tortured to death the only thing left was to locate Brock. This gave you a spring in your step as you dressed and made your way to Tony’s living room. There you found Tony, Rhodey, Thor, Loki, Clint, Nat, Steve, and Bucky all talking business. Tony got up to hug you while the other associates nodded at you as you walked over to sit in between Bucky and Steve.

“Sorry, I’m late. Continue with what you were discussing before I walked in.” You crossed your legs while Thor spoke.

“Our intel has Brock staying in Brooklyn but we don’t have a location. The word in Hydra is that he plans to fly out of New York tonight on a private jet from JFK airport. Rumor is that’s where he flies out of normally.” 

You slightly leaned forward and nodded your head. “You’re correct. His plane will be there. He talked about taking me to the Caribbean where his money is in a bank. When I was taking photos and sending them to you Tony there were accounts listed. I’m sure if you look through them we can find his offshore account and drain it of all the funds. That will get him out of hiding. Hit him where it hurts since the FBI has arrested all of his associates and taken the weapons he was trying to sell.”

Steve smiled proudly at you as he spoke. “I have to say, she is right. Hit him hard in the wallet and he’ll come crawling out of his hiding place.” 

Tony grinned at you and stood up. “Well let me see what I can dig up on my computers.” He excused himself and headed to his office, followed by Rhodey. 

“While Tony is doing that we need to strategize, bring Fury and the FBI into this. I want to see that man rot in prison for the rest of his pathetic life.” You angrily said to everyone in the room. 

“We will make sure that happens, doll.” Bucky put a hand on your knee. 

“We’re with you till the end of the line,” Steve reassured you, his hand grabbing yours. 

You shook your head, your lips curling into a sinister grin. “Well let’s get started.”

@americasass81​

@awsome262338​

@caffiend-queen​

@caplanbuckybarnes​

@charmed-asylum​

@denisemarieangelina​

@donutloverxo​

@get0verit​

@gotnofucks​

@joannie95​

@labella420​

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog​

@madscape​

@miraclesoflove​

@mogaruke​

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@mrsmischief209​

@nekoannie-chan​

@notyourtypicalrose​

@patzammit​

@princessofdarkwinter​

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@wolfsmom1​

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@justile​

@thefallenbibliophilequote​

@stanmysoul​

@sconnie-doesnt-know​

#saiyanprincessswanie #missy writes #civil war brooklyn #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #mob au #brock rumlow #steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark mob au #stucky x reader

[nekoannie-chan]

Night stop

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader X Dark!Brock Rumlow.

Word count: 1613 words.

Summary: You stop at an old hotel for the night but the accommodation is not as nice as it seems.

Warnings: Horror, dub-con, smut not so explicit, stalk, mention of crimes.

A/N: This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​  Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza with the card #4.

@saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​  @navybrat817​  @angrythingstarlight​  @shield-agent78​ @charmed-asylum​  @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​  @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​  @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​  @bluemusickid​  @leyannrae​ @harrysthiccthighss​@marvelatthisone​ @hallecarey1​  @nana1000night​ @sheismarvelousworld​

You made a gesture of exasperation. You were sure that you had gotten lost. You threw your cell phone into the passenger seat. The battery had died, so you could not use the GPS or any application to know where you were or where you could rest for the night.

From the glove compartment, you pulled out the map, which apparently indicated that you were in the middle of nowhere on the road. Obviously, you could not stop in that place; it would be very dangerous. You checked the gas tank indicator; you still had enough to continue your trip for a couple of hours. You expected to find a hotel or a place to rest. You knew that you would not be able to keep driving all night since you felt tired. And there was still a long way to go to get to the audition. You were so confident that you would be chosen, and your desire to play the lead role was so strong that you didn't mind travelling across the country to the location where the auditions were holding. You always knew your future was bright and you would do whatever it took to make sure it was.

You travelled ten kilometers more and saw a sign for a hotel. Although you could not distinguish the name, you would have to deviate a little from the road to get to the hotel, but you really needed to rest, apart from saying that it was approximately one kilometer away. You go along the nearby road as marked by the signs. You stopped when you arrived at the place. You frowned when you saw the hotel. You weren't sure if it was still running; the place looked too old.

You turned off the car engine, took your bag, and got out. You did not notice the movement in one of the curtains of the place. You stopped when you put your hand on the door of the enclosure. You turned and looked around. Everything was quiet. You slowly pushed the door. You smiled when you noticed that it was not safe. That meant that the hotel was still working. You rang the doorbell at the reception when you didn't see anyone. It was past ten o'clock at night, so probably the person in charge was asleep.

A few seconds later, a blond man emerged from what appeared to be a small office behind the lobby wall. He looked friendly and gave you a warm smile and a welcome greeting.

"Hello... Steve," you said, looking at the name on his uniform badge. "I would like a room for one night, please," you asked.

"A person?" Steve asked, and you nodded.

"What's wrong?" Another man asked, coming out of the same place.

"We have a guest," Steve replied in a calm tone.

You watched the two men; there was something that drew your attention to both of them, but you didn't think you needed to be concerned because you'd only be there for one night. Steve waved a hand in front of your face; you hadn't heard what he said because you were focused on your thoughts.

"Is the payment in advance?" You asked immediately, although you didn't know what Steve had told you.

"Half right now and a half when you check out," Brock replied.

You swallowed hearing his voice; it had made you feel something "strange" inside.

"Miss, is everything okay?" Steve's voice had a hint of concern.

"Oh, of course, sorry," you said, opening your wallet to get the card. "You accept cards, right? " You could feel your heart beating rapidly.

Steve nodded with a smile, which you returned to him while giving him your card to pay.

"Enjoy your stay.

"Because he's not leaving," Brock mumbled almost inaudibly. You turned around because you didn't understand what he told you.

"Excuse me?"

He said, "Have a good night," and he asked if he had brought suitcases to help him get them to his room. It's part of our service, "Steve quickly corrected to divert your attention while directing a quick warning glance at Brock.

"Thank you, too. My bags are in the trunk of my car, "you replied.

Brock walked you to the car. You opened the trunk. He took out your bags and took them to the room you would be in that night.

Even though the look on the outside and at the reception looked deplorable, very old and dirty, the room was pretty much the opposite; clean, cozy, comfortable, not as modern as other hotels you had stayed in, but it had a TV and phone. You had not even thought that such services were possible in that place that seemed so far from civilization, they would probably fail. You turned on the TV. You didn't even pay attention to the movie that was playing at the time. You opened one of the suitcases to take out your clothes. All you wanted was to take a shower and then sleep. You really needed to rest.

You showered However, the feeling that someone was watching you was constant. Even though you had checked the whole room before anything else, you did not find any cameras or anything suspicious. Maybe it was your nerves or the stress of hearing, but for the moment, you needed to relax and unwind in order to give the best performance of your life.

Just when you finished putting on your pajamas, someone knocked on your bedroom door, frowned strangely, moved the curtain a little, and saw that it was Steve, who opened the door a little. You thought there might be some problem with your payment or room.

"Is there any problem?" you asked.

"None, nothing else. I brought you tea, courtesy of the house," Steve replied, showing you the steaming cup, which you drank carefully and thanked him with a smile.

You had the tea. It tasted delicious. It even had the temperature that you liked to drink it at. Although you found it strange that it was one of them who took it to you and not someone else from the staff, maybe they didn't even have more staff, they probably wouldn't have had many customers.

You laughed when a thought went through your head. At least the two employees you spoke to were too attractive. Of course, you wish something else had happened.

You put aside the curtain to look out the window. Even the lights at the reception were off. You didn't even know if there were more guests. You couldn't see the book. You barely remembered that you didn't even sign it. However, you didn't think there was any problem if you did it the next morning. You got under the blankets. Strangely, the bed was too comfortable, just like the one at home. You lowered your hand. You thought about touching yourself for a while. However, you felt too tired and closed your eyes.

You weren't sure how many hours had passed, but suddenly, you felt a hand running down your legs. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids looked like they were very heavy. Although you didn't pay much attention, it was probably some sort of dream.

After several minutes, the feeling was stronger. The hands were rising higher until they caressed your underwear. You were definitely not dreaming. You opened your eyes with a lot of effort. What you felt you no longer believed was a dream. You felt that a hand covered your mouth so that you could not scream. You used slaps to try to get rid of whoever was on your case.

"You better keep quiet, don't make things more difficult," Brock whispered in your ear as he continued to caress you, causing you to let out a choked moan.

"You seem to need help," Steve said from the door. You looked at him.

You didn't know how it had happened. It all happened so fast, but when you realized Brock was fucking you while you were sucking it on Steve, it all made sense.

"I thought you had a pretty face ever since I saw you when you got out of your car," Steve said, one hand caressing your left nipple and the other hand taking your hair to help him to fuck your mouth.

"It's been a long time since a woman as beautiful as you visited us," Brock spoke as he raised his leg further to deepen his onslaught.

The next morning, you were still trying to process what happened. You had the two men by your side.

"I told you; you weren't going to leave. We didn't plan to do the same thing to you as the other girls because you're so cute," Brock realized that you had already woken up.

You laughed when you heard their words because, after the first time they fuck you, you had decided to forget the audition and stay there to live with them. They have already shown you that they could please you in everything you wanted. In the end, your goal of being a famous actress was to have enough money to buy all your whims. But you knew they could do it. After all, you had heard their conversation, where they confessed many things.

Apart from that, if you caught the attention of the media, they could easily find you for some crimes you had committed. Although you were really surprised that they knew about it, you also knew their secrets, so nobody would betray anyone. Finally, you found a safe place that you could consider your home. There was no need to keep fleeing.

#rooshallocream #dark!steve rogers x reader x dark!brock rumlow #dark steve rogers #dark brock rumlow #dark fic #dub con

[talia-rumlow]

Bound & Brockened Masterlist!

This story is the fastest growing story I´ve EVER posted. I absolutely LOVE to write this story. And I hope you´ll enjoy reading it as well. Just remember the warnings. Read with care!

Brock Rumlow, a ruthless badass, with a fucked up dominant side! After a mission goes terribly wrong, he gets fired from his job. After picking up girls in bars for a while, he gets that he needs more. No more of these fucked up, girls that leaves the next morning. He needs something stable. Someone he can use, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. Someone he can get out his frustration on.

So he decides to buy you, at an auction!

You had no money, no place to live, nothing left. That's the only reason you decided to give yourself away. To use the only thing you had, to maybe get some food and a roof over your head. You had no idea what you were walking into!

DARK STORY!! ⚠️⚠️

Containing graphic descriptions of non-con elements, bdsm, different forms of torture, graphic sexual descriptions.

⚠️READ ON OWN RISK⚠️

Chapter One - Hades

Chapter Two - Owned!

Chapter Three - Choices!

Chapter Four - Play!

Chapter Five - Rules!

Chapter Six - Punished!

Chapter Seven - Plaything!

#brock rumlow #rumlow #rumlowfiction #rumlowsmut #rumlowxreader #jack rollins #Bound & Brockened (Dark Rumlow X Reader)

[marvelvillian23]

Does anyone know where I can found a fic called How To Change A Person? It was a Winterspider BuckyxPeter and Irondad (no incest). It was on AO3 by an author Jennypin99 until it was turn Anonymous, now it’s deleted. I would really appreciate if someone will let me know if there’s anyway I can find this fic.

#winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes #bucky x peter #bucky barnes #peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #brock rumlow #shuri #peter parker whump #mafia romance #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #dark bucky barnes

[silkholland]

There was a story I really loved and I went through ALL of my likes and i can’t find it anywhere so if anyone knows what I’m about to describe please let me know.

It’s a Steve Rogers x Reader story where he basically kidnaps her and makes her his maid. He’s in a gang i believe and Peter is in it but he’s super kind to her and they become friends. Steve starts to develop feelings for her but tries to deny them because he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her. Then Rumlow who is in a rival gang attacks her. After awhile he finally gives in to his feelings for her.

It was beautifully written and I think it was a long one shot. Someone please help.

#fic help #fic finder #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #brock rumlow #peter parker #dark!steve rogers #soft dark steve rogers #help please

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crown of Thorns I

Warnings: this fic will noncon/rape, abuse of power, violence, injury, blood, mentions of hunting, tags will be added throughout. My tags are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your reclusive existence is interrupted by an unexpected company of men. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, possible secondary pairings.

Note: I’m hoping this will be like weekly installments and I’m gonna be working on Hopelessly Devoted and hopefully the final part of my Tony/Peter Medieval AU in the upcoming week.<3

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Prince Charming loves mirrors. Take care. 💖

The doors quake with the sudden thunk of metal on wood. You rise from your weaving, startled by the unusual racket. The banging continues, voices hollering.

"In the name of the king, open the door," a deep voice booms as you near.

It's not the first time soldiers happen upon your little hideaway. The last time, they plundered your hen house but let you be. You lift the lever and ease the door open.

"Get him in," the door's shoved into you before you can react to the men on the other side.��

You're nearly crushed as they barge in, four men carrying another on a board, a fifth at their rear, familiar. They lay the wounded man on the plank before the fire as chaos erupts in your quiet hovel.

"Bartholomew? You brought these men here?"

"I hadn't any choice," he answers, "they need help–"

"Enough," one of the soldier nears and grabs your arm, "be upon your work."

"Bartholomew?" You say quizzically as you watch him over your shoulder, dragged away by the soldier.

"Do not worry for him, worry for your king," he swings you towards the bloodied body before your hearth.

"King?" You blink cluelessly.

"Tell us, fool," another man looks up from his knees, pressing a torn tunic to the shoulder of that who lays prone, "did you lead us into a bandits' lair?"

"N-no," Bartholomew bluster, "woman, please, you tended to my son when he fell from the tree, and Diana when her labour was premature."

"I must have time," you shrug away from the gauntlet on your arm, "I can do nothing for this man if I haven't anything to tend to him with."

"But you can tend to him?" The man who seized you prompts. 

"I can try, but I am inexperienced in battle wounds."

"Do as you can and consider that as the king's life lays in your hands, so does the realm."

You clamp your lips shut. You are no healer, not truly. Your mother was more the sort and they banished her for her practices. You go to the unconscious body and kneel by him, looking over the broken links that reveal mangled flesh.

"Get his mail off," you stand and take the kettle from the table, hanging it over the fire, "you," you point to the blonde who previously growled at you of your duty to the crown, "there is a linen hung to the east of the house, bring it and shred it it to strips two fingers thick."

He winces at your orders but does not argue. He passes back through the door as Bartholomew wrings his hands. You send him a look, how dare you bring them here.

The single room of your modest abode is bustling with the intruders. Three work at carefully dismantling the layers of metal from the man's form. The king, they say he is.

You take your chest from beneath the shelf of pots and vials. You search out some dried herbs with your mortar and pestle, then gather some corked bottles from overhead.

At the table, you work at mixing the poultice, crushing it to a thick paste as the blonde returns and the noise of fabric being rent joins the mutter of voices and heavy breathing. You pick out your sharpest bone needle and weave through strand of horse hair. The thread is old and you fear it might snap if pulled to hard.

"Haven't you any medics?" You ask the soldier as he presents the strips of linen. 

"It hardly matters now," he scowls.

You sigh and gather your tools, nearing the dark haired man by your hearth. The other men move aside and stand over you as you take account of the man's injuries.

"How did he take such wounds?" You ask as you rip his tunic to the hem. 

Muscles stained with blood and gashed down the right side of the chest to his side, several smaller cuts along shoulder and down his arms as you reveal them.

"He was pulled off his horse and fell into a rabble. He may have been caught beneath some hooves," another man explains as the blond huffs with arms crossed behind you.

"I can tend to the flesh but any broken bones may not be so easily repaired," you feel his left shoulder, his arm limp.

"Do what you can," the blonde snarls.

"I need to set the arm, a stick, strong, straight," the kettles shakes noisily, "bring the water."

The man to your left rises and with his gauntlet to shield his hand, unhooks the vessel.

"Pour it into a basin," you order as you take a square of fabric.

Another man takes a large wooden bowl from a shelf and you dip the cloth, singing your fingers in the steaming water. You work at wiping away the excess blood. There is so much and the flesh is so pale it may be too late.

"You," you point to the young of the troop, "put pressure here," you gesture to the chest, "I can try to sew him up."

He pulls off his gloves and you stop him, "rinse them in the water."

He hesitates and grumbles as he dips his hands, no doubt scalding as he hisses. You hand him a strip to hold against the wound as you pack the poultice into the side of the king's torso and move up to the soldier's hands. 

The room fades away, the figures barely more than shadows as you take the needle.

"Wilson, find a splint," the blond orders.

You barely hear the words as you poke through the skin, in and out, back and forth. You tie off the horse hair, the skin closed but weeping. You tend to the smaller cuts, left by the pinch of armour and trampling. 

A soldier, Wilson, they called him, returns with a thick stick, almost a branch, and helps you place the king's thick arm and bind it tightly. Your hands are crimson as you tie the knots. You sit back and turn your hand to feel the king's forehead with your knuckles.

"He's feverish," you say, "I will need assistance. He must have some tea."

"Tea?" The blond nears as you rise, "make it in front of me."

"I need more water boiled," you say as you go to the shelf.

"What are you taking?" He follows as the youngest soldier takes the kettle and goes to the door.

"The well is to the rear of the house," you call over as you take a pot, "ginger." You present the first ingredient and the man shifts as you hand it to him, "why would I poison a man who I've already spent so much on? I do not live a bountiful existence."

"An existence granted you under his authority," he insists.

"Very well," you sort through your collection and pluck each and explain the contents. He is hardly amused by your careful explanation.

Again, you wait for the kettle to heat. The other men sit dully as the energy of the battle and their dire need wears away, but the blond remains close to observe you. You combine the herbs and spice into a dark tea and steep it under his watch.

"You claim that man is the king, James of Brookstone, yes?"

"Who else?" He rebuffs.

"And you?"

His blue eyes flare, "Steven Rogers, Duke of Ameril."

"A duke? And the rest of them?"

He's silent, staring.

"You needn't worry, I would hardly know their titles or the bearing of such should you name them. Your own is mystifying to me and I know only of the king from the minstrels and the ashes left of villages nearby."

He tilts his head as you fill a cup, "the man on the stool is Samuel Wilson, an earl, as the younger, Peter Parker. Our forth is a mercenary called Rumlow."

"You must prop him up so he does not choke," you do not acknowledge the revelation as it is hardly that to you. Merely a way to place each strange face.

He comes with you and lifts the king as you warn him to be gentle. He holds James' chin as you carefully pour the tea through his lips and massage his throat. His body swallows instinctively though he coughs a few times and you slow to let it pass. Steve lays him down again and remains at his side as you rise.

"Apologies that I have no more than a floor to offer you royal knights," you say and Steve clicks his tongue.

"We have slept in worse," he assures.

You turn to Bartholomew as he cowers by the door still, dazed as his gaze falls to your bloodied tunic, belted over a patched skirt.

"Aye, you should go home," you coax him, "your family will worry."

"I didn't know what else to do," he whispers.

"Go, I cannot say the king will survive," you keep your voice low, "you will not want to be near if he does not."

"And you?"

You shrug, "so it will be."

He heaves and frown, "I am so very sorry, lady."

"Go," you flick him away with your fingers, "it is much crowded as it is."

He gives a sullen nod and turns, angling through the half-open door and letting it clatter behind him. You shake your head and turn back, gathering up the mess left from your urgent work. 

You rinse your hands in the water before dumping it in the grass and come back to the men reclining around their king. All but Steven who watches him fervently.

👑

The soldiers sleep on the floor as you huddle in the corner on the pad packed with straw. You're rarely around people, let alone strange men. Soldiers at that, dangerous.

Their snores keep you alert, even as you doze off. Shallow slumber that leaves you stiff and stunted. 

You wake before the rest and boil oats with nutmeg and cinnamon. The aroma from your pit burning outside draws them out, all but Steven who remains inside. You offer them wooden bowls and some milk from your goat.

"Thanks, lady," the youngest, Parker, beams as Rumlow scowls and grunts and Wilson gives a smile, mouth already full of porridge.

They sit on the ground and eat as you take the last bowl and enter through the open door of your hovel. Steven watches over the king, perhaps a companion given his constancy. You near, heartened to see some colour to James' complexion, though still ashen.

You hold out the bowl but he doesn't accept it right away. Finally he takes it and peers down at the grey oats.

"He hasn't stirred," his voice is crackly from the dryness of his throat.

"He might not for some time. There was so much blood and the wounds are deep. If he did, the pain would likely put him out again."

"Yet, the priests would bleed him or put leeches to him," he sniffs.

"I cannot speak on priests, lest they claim blasphemy. I've done what I can, pray it is enough."

He looks up at you. Bags droop under his eyes. You doubt he slept, only pretended to.

"It hasn't been a day, my lord, it will take time."

"But you believe he will awake?"

"I am not healer, I only know recipes," you shrug.

"Curse that fool who brought us to some woods witch."

You go rigid. That title rarely bodes well. You stare at him nervously.

"Will you have the stake readied?" you quaver.

He lowers his chin, "I speak drolly, but let us pray for our king's recovery."

You back away. You will not provoke the man further, as even kindness seems to goad him. You return to the other men as they empty their bowls.

"There will be scouts searching," Rumlow gristles, the first words he's spoken, "we should be on sentry for them."

"We might find a few rabbits as well," Parker offers, "for supper."

"Perhaps," Wilson squeezes his shoulder and stands. You take his bowl and collect the rest from the men.

"Be wary of the bears," you warn as you sit to break your own fast.

"I could use a pelt," Wilson scoffs.

You do not answer as they go back to claim their weapons and emerge again, ready for a hunt. You're thankful to see them go but dread their return already. You do not foresee a brief stay for the men, not with the king in such a state.

👑

The soldiers return with a bundle of rabbits and some squirrels. You promise them a stew should they skin the creatures. They speak of a stag they were unable to corner as they do and you go to look in on the king and his duke.

Steven lays on his shoulder, breath even as he's succumbed to his fatigue. You near as the king remains as he was, the rise and fall of his chest slightly more obvious. You will need to check the stitches but for now, you leave him under the wool blanket before the embers.

You emerge with a cauldron and go to pick some vegetables from the patch along the west of your home. Leeks, potatoes, and a few carrots. You use your small knife to peel and cut them into the pot. 

Wilson helps with slicing up the rabbits and you add some seasoning and water. You hang it over the pit and feed it to lick at the heavy iron.

Rumlow sits dragging a whetstone along his blade, Parker tosses a knife at a tree, and Wilson wipes his hands before cleaning his nails with a twig. The days will be even longer for your unwelcome company.

👑

Two days pass as Steven keeps watch over the king. He lets you close to tend to the stitches but does not part for more than his bodily needs. The man is persistent and you can't help but admire his devotion.

That afternoon, as Steven departs to find a private place in the woods to relieve himself, and the others bathe in the river you directed them to, you take a basin of water to the king's side.

You uncover him from beneath the wool blanket, clothed in only his breeches. A layer of sweat wafts pungently from him as his hair is greasy and coiled around his head. You gently comb out the knots with your fingers, the angles of his jaw and high cheekbones lend him a noble air even as he lays weak.

His beard shines against the firelight, thick and slightly unkempt. You dip the cloth in the water as you sit on your knees and wipe clean his wounds. You check the splint on his arm before going back to dabbing gently at his face, tracing his hairline with the linen.

You're startled as suddenly a gleam of blue flashes with the flick of his lashes. Your eyes meet, his oceanic and deep, a sudden vice on your neck as his right hand meets your throat. You gasp and choke as he grips you tightly, squeezing until you can't breathe.

You can't get a word out as you drop the cloth. You don't know what to do, shocked that he can even move with the agony of his injury. Your fingers find the wound in his chest and you push down, enough to make him hiss and release you.

You fall back onto your rear and catch yourself on the heels of your hand as you gape at him. He groans and shakily touches his chest, dragging his hand heavily to his unmoving left arm.

"What've you done to me?" his tone creaks.

"N-nothing, I helped you," you rub your throat as it burns with the pressure of his grasp still.

"Where-- Who--" his confusion laces his weak timbre. He tries to sit up, only to collapse heavily and grunt.

"Lord Steven brought you."

"Rogers?" he drones as his head lolls, "where is he?"

"He went to... he'll be back shortly. I can go fetch him."

"Stay," he orders.

"Your majesty," you muster as you recall yourself.

He closes his eyes, "wine?"

"I have none."

"Ale, then."

"I have only milk and rainwater, your majesty."

He waves his fingers waveringly, a wordless ascent, whatever you have. You get up and grab the pitcher from the table, enough water remaining to fill a cup. You bring it to him as he struggles to sit up. He cannot.

"Allow me," you grab a blanket and bunch it up atop the cushion beneath his head, enough to keep him at an angle.

You take the cup and tilt it against his lips. He grimaces but lets you pour it into his mouth, gulping greedily until it's empty. You set it on the floor and retrieve the cloth and put it back in the basin. You lift it and carry it to the table.

"What were you doing to me?"

"Cleansing your wounds," you say.

He feels his face curiously. You chew the inside of your cheek.

"Trying to tidy you as best I could," you explain, "I thought it only decent."

His brows furrow and his eyes fall to the gash down his torso. He touches the end of it along his stomach. Then peeks at his arm.

"It is good I hold my sword with my right hand," he mutters.

"Your majesty," you linger by the table, "I should... see to my hens."

"As you will," he leans back and closes his eyes.

As you reach the door, another figure fills the frame. You haven't a moment to react before Steven shoves you from his path and barrels over to James.

"My king," he falls to one knee, "you've awoken."

"Is this not some nightmare?" the other man rebukes, "what is this place?"

"A hermit's hole," Steven answers, "I am gladdened to hear your voice, to see you well."

"Well? Is that what you'd call me?"

You leave them to their reunion. The king is alive and that gives you hope you too will survive this invasion. You sit by the dead pit and stare off into the trees. Perhaps you might have them out within the fortnight.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #winter soldiers #avengers #steve rogers #peter parker #captain america #spider-man #brock rumlow #sam wilson #crossbone #falcon

[madamebaggio]

Updates

We’ve got quite a few updates recently, so I’ve decided to leave the links here to help you out.

All of this works can be found here on my tumblr and on Ao3 (where the links are from).

Maybe we shouldn’t (but we will) ((a.k.a. A very special bucket list) - Modern AU JonSa

Loving her was red - Sansa x Tommy, Peaky Blinder AU

Fake ‘till you make it - Modern AU TheonSa

Stark Blue - Steve x Sansa x Bucky, MCU verse

Meeting the Expendables - Darcy x Brock, crossover with “The Expendables”

A Happy Occasion - Sansa x Tommy, Peaky Blinders AU

Dark in my imagination - Darth Maul x Scarlett

A Gentleman and a Kingsman - Crossover

Hidden scars and wolf tattoos - Sansa x Jax, Sons of Anarchy verse

I’m waiting (please don’t take too long) - Sansa x Loki, MCU verse

More things to come ;)

#madame baggio #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #a special bucket list #jonsa fanfiction #loving her was red #Sansa Stark x Tommy shelby #fake it till you make it #theonsa #stark blue #future sansa x steve x bucky #meeting the expendables #darcy lewis x brock rumlow #a happy occasion #future Sansa x Tommy #dark in my imagination #Darth Maul x Scarlett #a gentleman and a kingsman #hidden scars and wolf tattoos #sansa x jax #I'M WAITING FOR YOU #sansa x loki

[cyberneticasset]

Made a separate Ao3 for my trash •̀⩊•́

Link is here

#winter soldier #bucky barnes #hydra trash party #htp #brock rumlow #steve rogers #captain america #crossbones #quwu #archive of our own #ao3 #whump #dark fic #hydra trash #fic

[randomlittleimp]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow Characters: Brock Rumlow, Darcy Lewis, Phil Coulson, Jane Foster (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Jack Rollins Additional Tags: Darcy Lewis's iPod, Morally grey Brock Rumlow, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Stalker, Triple Agent Brock Rumlow, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Anal Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Bondage, someones been reading too much dark romance Summary:

Brock Rumlow is not a good person. So when he lays eyes on Darcy Lewis he knows he has to have her. And it doesn't matter to him if she wants him at all, she'll learn to want him.

#fanfic #taserbones #brock rumlow #darcy lewis #dark romance #they say he's morally grey

[nekoannie-chan]

Parada nocturna

Pareja: Dark!Steve Rogers X Lectora X Dark!Brock Rumlow.

Palabras: 1505 palabras.

Sinopsis: Te detuviste en un viejo hotel en la noche, pero el alojamiento no es tan bueno como parece.

Advertencias: Terror, dub-con, Smut no tan excplitico, acecho, mención de crímenes.

N/A:  Esta es mi entrada para Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza con la carta #4.        

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @black23​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​

Hiciste un gesto de exasperación, estabas segura de que te habías perdido, aventaste tu celular al asiento del acompañante, la batería había muerto por lo que no podías usar ni el GPS ni ninguna aplicación para saber dónde estabas ni donde podrías descansar la noche.

De la guantera sacaste el mapa, donde aparentemente indicaba que estabas en medio de la nada en la carretera. Evidentemente, no podías detenerte en ese lugar, sería muy peligroso, checaste el indicador del tanque de gasolina, aún tenías suficiente para continuar un par de horas tu viaje, esperabas encontrar algún hotel o un lugar para descansar, sabías que no lograrías mantenerte toda la noche manejando, ya que te sentías cansada. Y faltaba mucho camino por recorrer aún para llegar a la audición, tenías tantas esperanzas de que te eligieran, y tus deseos de conseguir el papel protagónico eran demasiados, que no te importaba prácticamente recorrer todo el país para ir al lugar donde estaba haciendo las audiciones. Siempre supiste que tu futuro era brillante y harías lo que fuera necesario para asegurarte que así fuese.

Recorriste diez kilómetros más y viste un letrero de un hotel, aunque no alcanzaste a distinguir el nombre, te tendrías que desviar un poco de la carretera para llegar al hotel, pero realmente necesitabas descansar, aparte decía que se encontraba aproximadamente a un kilómetro. Te dirigiste por el camino aledaño como lo marcaban los señalamientos, te detuviste al llegar al lugar, frunciste el ceño al ver el hotel. No estabas segura si seguía en funcionamiento, el lugar se veía demasiado antiguo.

Apagaste el motor del automóvil, tomaste tu bolso y bajaste, no te diste cuenta del movimiento en una de las cortinas del lugar. Te detuviste cuando pusiste la mano en la puerta del recinto, volteaste y observaste el alrededor, todo estaba tranquilo, lentamente empujaste la puerta, sonreíste al notar que no estaba segura, eso significaba que el hotel seguía funcionando. Tocaste el timbre de la recepción al no ver a nadie, pasaban de las diez de la noche, probablemente la persona encargada estaba dormida.

Unos segundos después, un hombre rubio salió de lo que parecía ser una pequeña oficina detrás de la pared del recibidor. Parecía amable, te dirigió una cálida sonrisa y un saludo de bienvenida.

—Hola… Steve —te fijaste en el nombre que tenía en el gafete de su uniforme—, quisiera una habitación por una noche, por favor —pediste.

—¿Una persona? —Steve cuestionó y tú asentiste.

—¿Qué pasa? —preguntó otro hombre saliendo del mismo lugar.

—Tenemos una huésped —Steve respondió con un tono calmado.

Observaste a los dos hombres, había algo que te llamaba la atención de ambo, pero no pensabas que tuvieras que preocuparte, a final de cuentas, únicamente estarías una noche en ese lugar. Steve agitó una mano enfrente de tu cara, no habías escuchado lo que te dijo por estar centrada en tus pensamientos.

—¿El pago es por adelantado? —inquiriste de forma inmediata, aunque no sabías que te había dicho Steve.

—La mitad ahorita y la otra cuando registre su salida —respondió Brock

Tragaste al escuchar su voz, te había hecho sentir algo “extraño” en tu interior.

—¿Señorita, está todo bien? —la voz de Steve tenía un toque de preocupación.

—Ah, claro, perdón —abriste tu cartera para sacar la tarjeta—. Aceptan tarjeta, ¿verdad? —podías sentir tu corazón latir aceleradamente.

Steve asintió con una sonrisa, la cual le devolviste a la vez que le dabas tu tarjeta para pagar.

—Que disfrute su estancia.

—Porque no se irá —Brock farfulló casi de forma inaudible. Volteaste porque no entendiste lo que te dijo.

—¿Disculpe?

—Que pase buena noche y él le preguntó si traía maletas para ayudarle a llevarlas a su habitación, es parte de nuestro servicio —Steve corrigió rápidamente para desviar tu atención al mismo tiempo que le dirigía una mirada rápida de advertencia a Brock.

—Gracias, igualmente. Mis maletas están en la cajuela de mi automóvil —contestaste.

Brock te acompañó hasta el carro, abriste la cajuela, él sacó tus maletas y las llevó a la habitación que ocuparías esa noche.

A pesar de que el aspecto por fuera y en la recepción se veían deplorables, muy viejas y sucias, la habitación era prácticamente lo contrario, limpia, acogedora, cómoda, no tan moderna como otros hoteles en los que te habías quedado, tenía televisor y teléfono. Ni siquiera habías pensado que dichos servicios fuesen posibles en aquel lugar que parecía tan alejado de la civilización, probablemente fallarían mucho. Prendiste el televisor, ni siquiera prestaste atención a la película que estaba en ese momento, abriste una de las maletas para sacar tu ropa, lo único que querías era tomar una ducha y luego dormir, realmente necesitabas descansar.

Te duchaste, sin embargo, la sensación de que alguien te observaba era constante, a pesar de que habías revisado toda la habitación antes que nada, no encontraste ninguna cámara ni anda sospechoso. Tal vez eran tus nervios, o el estrés de la audición, pero por el momento necesitabas relajarte y descansar para poder hacer la mejor actuación de tu vida.

Justo cuando terminaste de ponerte tu pijama, alguien tocó la puerta de tu habitación, frunciste el ceño extrañada, moviste un poco la cortina y viste que era Steve y abriste un poco la puerta, pensabas que podría haber algún problema con tu pago o habitación.

—¿Hay algún inconveniente? —preguntaste.

—Ninguno, nada más, le traje un té, cortesía de la casa —Steve respondió mostrándote la taza humeante, la cual tomaste con cuidado y agradeciste con una sonrisa.

Tomaste el té, sabía delicioso, incluso tenía la temperatura que a la que a ti te gustaba tomarlo, aunque te pareció extraño que fuese uno de ellos quien te lo llevara y no alguien más del personal o tal vez ni siquiera tenían más personal, probablemente no tendrían muchos clientes.

Reíste cuando un pensamiento pasó por tu cabeza, al menos los dos empleados con los que habías hablado eran demasiado atractivos, claro que te gustaría que algo más pasara.

Hiciste a un lado la cortina para asomarte por la ventana, inclusive la luz de la recepción estaba apagada, ni siquiera sabías si había más huéspedes, no lograste ver el libro, apenas recordaste que ni siquiera lo firmaste, sin embargo, no creías que hubiera ningún problema si lo hacías a la mañana siguiente. Te metiste debajo de las cobijas, extrañamente la cama era demasiado cómoda, igual que la de tu casa, bajaste la mano, pensabas tocarte durante un rato, sin embargo, te sentías demasiado cansada y cerraste los ojos.

No estabas segura de cuantas horas habían pasado, pero de pronto, sentiste que una mano recorría tus piernas, intentaste abrir los ojos, pero tus párpados parecía que eran muy pesados, aunque no prestaste mucha atención, probablemente era algún sueño.

Después de varios minutos la sensación era más fuerte, así mismo las manos estaban subiendo más hasta que acariciaron por encima de tu ropa interior, definitivamente no estabas soñando. Abriste los ojos con mucho esfuerzo, lo que sentías ya no creías que fuese un sueño, sentiste que una mano cubría tu boca para que no pudieras gritar, con manotazos intentaste quitarte a quien fuese que tuvieras encima.

—Es mejor que te quedes callada, no hagas las cosas más difíciles —Brock te susurró al oído mientras seguía acariciándote, haciendo que soltaras un gemido ahogado.

—Parece que necesitas ayuda —dijo Steve desde la puerta, alzaste la vista.

No sabías cómo había pasado, todo sucedió tan rápido, pero cuando te diste cuenta Brock te estaba penetrando mientras le estabas chupándosela a Steve.

—Desde que te vi cuando bajaste de tu carro, creí que tenías una cara bonita —Steve dijo a la vez que con una mano acariciaba tu pezón izquierdo, mientras con la otra tomaba tu cabello para meterlo más a tu boca.

—Hace mucho que ninguna mujer tan hermosa como tú nos visitaba —Brock habló mientras alza más tu pierna para que fuese más profundas sus embestidas.

A la mañana siguiente todavía estabas intentando procesar lo sucedido, tenías a los dos hombres a tu lado.

—Te dije que no te ibas a ir, no pensamos hacerte lo mismo que a las otras chicas porque eres muy linda —Brock se había dado cuenta de que ya te habías despertado.

Te reíste al escuchar sus palabras, ya que después de la primera vez que te cogieron, habías decidido olvidar la audición y quedarte a vivir ahí con ellos, ya te había demostrado que te podían complacer en todo lo que quisieras, a final de cuentas tu objetivo de ser una actriz famosa era tener el dinero suficiente para comprar todos tus caprichos, pero sabías que ellos podían hacerlo, después de todo habías escuchado su conversación, donde confesaron muchas cosas.

Aparte si llamabas la atención de los medios, fácilmente podrían encontrarte por algunos crímenes que habías cometido, aunque realmente te sorprendió que ellos supieran de eso, pero también conocías sus secretos, así que nadie delataría a nadie, finalmente encontraste un lugar seguro y que podías considerar tu hogar, ya no había necesidad de seguir huyendo.

#rooshallowecream #dark!steve rogers x lectora dark!brock rumlow #dark steve rogers #dark brock rumlow #dub con #dark fic

[lenapalmdeath]

Masters Of Make Believe - Chapter 6

It was really messed up

"I was there earlier. I heard the way Brock talked to you, it was really messed up," Steve said.

Natasha looked at him defensively for a few seconds. When she saw that he was sincere, her expression softened a bit.

"Yeah. I should be used to it by now. But that kind of thing, it just clings to you, kind of eats you up inside. You have no idea what some people get away with in this business. If you're a woman, you're either a groupie, a nanny, or a girlfriend. You just don't know anything about anything. You have to fight ten times harder than a guy to get respect. Especially with assholes like Rumlow. Fortunately, there are also sweethearts, like Barnes", she said, glancing towards the stage." Oh Come on! I've got to go, that idiot there still can't tape cables! See you later, Steve."

"I wanna walk through the park in the dark Men are scared that women will laugh at them I wanna walk through the park in the dark Women are scared that men will kill them I hold my keys Between my fingers"

#natasha romanoff is a roadie #Brock Rumlow is a sexist asshole #She wants to bite his head off #courtney barnett #nameless faceless #I wanna walk through the park in the dark #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfiction #archiveofourown #stucky #steve and bucky #alternate universe #bodyguard au #rockstars au #one day one chapter

[navybrat817]

Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier #soldat and sparrow #bucky barnes #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #sebastian stan