#marvel werewolf au

[buckyalpine]

Ohhhh yay 🥰🥳

So my brain came up with this idea: Bucky is the leader of a werewolf pack (just like twilight haha I'm so sorry) and he gets fond of that one girl where he instantly feels a connection cause the wolves fall in love only once in a lifetime and he knows it's you. So when you get attacked by vamps one night he steps in saving you and bringing you to their camp to take care of you. Then you Kinda feel love at first sight as well and stay by his side ?

I love this but this is going to be a first for me, writing this type of AU so bear with me. Some A/B/O themes to do with the werewolf theme but not exactly an a/b/o fic. Just making up my own damn rules for this AU, so look the other way if something doesn’t make sense. 

18+ cause smut but also lots of fluff, knotting, marking, protective Bucky with platonic protective Steve, Sam and Peter

-

He didn’t mean to watch you so closely but he couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was a part of his instincts to notice the finest details that surrounded him. Every day he saw you, there was something new that captivated him. The way the wind would tousle your hair. The way your nails were painted to match the shades of the fall. Whenever you bought your morning coffee, you bought a second one along with a muffin, handing it to the homeless man that stayed near by the coffee shop. Sometimes you’d spent a good few minutes talking to him before continuing with your day. You’d hold the hand of the elderly woman who was slowly crossing the street, making sure she made it across safely before you went off to wherever you were going. 

You saw beauty in everything. Everyone.

You were beautiful.

Pure.

Bucky shook his head, turning back to the bar, wiping down a few glasses, though still sneaking glances at the window as you walked by. He’d first noticed you months ago, in the summer, blinking when he saw an unfamiliar but pretty face walking down the street, a bundle of sunflowers in your hand. His eyes lingered on you, smiling softly when you handed a little girl a flower before continuing down the street, disappearing around the corner. Bucky knew everyone around the area; after all it was his territory. The east belonged to his pack so he was curious about the sweet stranger he’d never seen before. 

You didn’t seem to pose a threat so he didn’t dive into investigating you. The more often he saw you, the more he’d find to admire. It was late in the afternoon, meaning Bucky would only see you again closer to the end of his shift which would be around midnight. He felt his cheeks heat up when he realized he knew what your routine was. 

Stop being creepy Bucky. 

Hours went by, less than sober customers walking in and out, Sam, Steve and Peter were talking Bucky’s ear off about something he stopped paying attention to 20 minutes ago. 

“...and that’s how I caught Clint in the vents, you should’ve seen his face” 

“Caught in 4k, no cap”

“Why would he be wearing a cap”

“I’m going to move you all to the graveyard shift” Bucky groaned, barely focused on their conversation, mostly because he lost track of whatever Peter was referencing, 15 references ago. He glanced at the clock, only a few more minutes left until he was off. It also meant you would be passing by his bar soon enough. Which is why he frowned when he didn’t see you. For the past few months, Bucky noticed you’d always walk home, something he wasn’t very fond of but it’s not like he could do anything about it. The area was generally safe but it wasn’t perfect, especially at night. 

Bucky shoved the uneasiness he felt to the back of his mind; you had a life outside of the moments he saw you. You could have taken a cab or gone home with a friend. Maybe you look a different route. Maybe you made plans. He thought of 101 reasons as to why he didn’t see you to try convince himself he was worrying over nothing. Bucky grabbed his jacket, heading out into the cool night, the moon softly lighting the empty streets. 

Something felt off. 

The worry he felt when he didn’t see you hadn’t ceased and for some reason the feeling was growing. 

She’s fine.

She’s made it home safe. 

You don’t even know her-

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to a faint sound he heard near a pitch black alleyway. He took two steps towards it, only to hear silence filling the air.

Until he heard it again. 

He knew he heard something, a pained whimper so quiet, he almost thought he imagined it. The hairs on his neck stood up, something not feeling right, bounding towards the source of the sound. His pupils dilated to scan the dark area, eyes growing wide when he saw the sight before him. 

“Quiet!” John hissed, his teeth grazing your cheek. “Such a pretty lookin’ princess” he whispered, his fangs glistening under the moon light, his finger tracing along the column of your neck. “Hold her still” He grumbled while his friend kept their hand firmly over your mouth, their other arm wrapped around your arms and waist. 

“Been watchin’ ya sweet heart” Valentina purred, trailing a sharp nail down your cheek, a sinister smile on her face watching you struggle, “These young ones are hungry” She sat back on a crate, crossing her legs, while the blond grabbed a fist of your hair, craning it back to expose your neck. “Go on, make it quick before one of the mongrels find us” She spat, venom in her voice, feeling a sense of uneasiness roaming the streets they were forbidden to set foot in. 

“Ladies first” John smirked while Sharon hummed, smacking your cheek when as you struggled, trying to break free. “This will be a lot easier if you’d just fucking-

She stopped mid sentence, her eyes darting around her, the sudden scent of pinewoods and cedar evading her senses. A snarl tore through the air, your eyes falling on a white wolf along with three others growling and stalking towards your attackers, the largest white one bounding towards you, pinning John underneath him. Sharon tried to grab you, her nails digging into your skin, only to be torn off by another wolf, dragging her by the ankle. You fell to the floor, gasping when the smallest wolf came to your aid, standing guard in front of you, warning for the others to back off. You couldn’t place what it was but there was something distinct about each wolf, it was almost as if you could see their different personalities. 

“Fuck-”  John tried to throw the large animal off him, heaving at the weight that sunk into his chest.  

“You don’t belong here” The white wolf let out a deep growl, claws piercing into his chest, breaths heavy, fanning on his face, sharp teeth on full display. All you heard was a growl but John seemed to understand what it meant, frantically nodding his head. “Leave now, take the rest with you” He understood the low rumble to be a final warning for them to leave if they wanted to stay alive. 

“Lets go!” Valentina had already jumped to the top of the building, not waiting for the rest, the group running off into the night, leaving you half bleeding and scratched on the ground. John gasped for air, scrambling off the floor as he managed to climb up a fire escape, striding across the rooftops to follow the rest. 

Your heart stopped as the white wolf turned to face you, taking slow calculated steps, as if to show you he meant no harm. He was beautiful with piercing sapphire blue eyes and thick white fur. Your eyes grew wide, your breath catching in your throat as he began to shift, fur disappearing replaced with brunette hair, limbs now muscular arms and legs. There was no longer a wolf before you, a tall handsome stranger standing in its place. It was just you and him in the alleyway; the other three wolves who had protected you had trailed after your attackers to ensure they left the territory. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Who-who are you” You whispered, trembling in the corner as Bucky approached you, his teeth no longer sharp, eyes now a soft shade of blue. He carefully stepped towards you, kneeling on the ground to help you sit up, his touch gentle. “Please don’t hurt me-”

“I won’t hurt you” He smiled softly, resting his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your mind was still reeling over what you had just seen, your head feeling dizzy from the deep cuts that ran along your arm. The skirt of your dress had ripped, nicks covering your knees from where you fell. 

“But-you-” You stumbled over your words, your heart still rapidly beating out of your chest, “You were just-” 

“Fluffy and walking on four legs?” He gave you a playful smirk, his smile dropping when he noticed your eyelids grow heavy, your body exhausted. “You’re really hurt”

“M’okay” You rasped but you knew you were far from it. The area where you were scratched began to burn and you didn’t understand why. You let out a whimper of pain, clutching onto him as the pain worsened. Bucky’s heart broke, the need to protect you and take care of you overbearing all his other senses. He tucked you against his body, not thinking twice about his decision to bring you back with him. 

“Come with me doll, we’ll take care of you” His voice was soft, soothing, like a warm blanket covering you. You gave him a faint nod, melting into his hold as he lifted you into his arms with ease. Something about him brought you a sense of calm you had never felt before. 

It was the same feeling you felt when you stepped into your home after a long day. The feeling of slipping into a warm bath. The feeling of fresh sheets and a cool pillow. The first sip of hot chocolate on a cold day. Soul soothing. 

You slipped in and out of consciousness, as he carried you through towards the forest that surrounded the area, his scent of pine and something distinctly him bringing you comfort. The soft crunch of twigs crunched beneath his footsteps as he walked down the trail towards a clearing. 

Tall beautiful log cabins surrounded the camp, the area completely hidden from the outside world. Bucky managed to open the door to his cabin while still holding you close, setting you down carefully on the couch before frantically calling Wanda. By the time Wanda was knocking on his door, you were  completely unconscious, bruises starting to form on your skin, your breathing slowed. 

“She was attacked” Bucky stayed by your side while Wanda looked you over, running her hands carefully over your injures. 

“Vampires?” She asked Bucky, flecks of red flashing across her eyes when Bucky nodded. “What are they doing here”

“They’ve been watching her” Bucky swallowed thickly, the sense of dread returning when he thought about what could have happened if he hadn’t found you in time. “They were going to feed...”

“Leave it to them to prey on the most vulnerable” Wanda shook her head in disgust, scanning the shelves for all the medicines she’d made. She grabbed a small vial, squeezing a few droplets out onto your skin, wrapping the scratches with a soft cloth. “She’ll be okay, just needs to rest. They didn’t bite her so she won’t be affected in anyway. Just keep an eye on her throughout the night in case she’s in any pain” 

Bucky nodded, thanking Wanda as she left. You stirred, the oil on your arm starting to sting making you groan in pain. 

“Doll, are you alright? What hurts” Bucky was at your side in an instant, eyes clouded with worry. You clutched onto your arm, curling into a ball, biting your lip waiting for the pain to cease. 

“Just stings, that’s all” You tried to bear the sting, letting out a strained groaned as the pain radiated more. It seemed to come in waves, pulsing through your body. Bucky crouched beside you so he was at eye level with you, his hand gently skimming over your covered scratches. You relaxed for a moment at his touch, your eyes meeting his pretty blue ones. 

“It’s the healing oil. It stings more because...” Bucky bit his lip, pausing and choosing his words carefully, “Well, the medicines were made for-for our kind?” He gave you a lopsided smile, “It’s very potent”

“Your kind?” You cocked your head, urging him to continue though there was only so much left to explain after you’d literally seen him shift from wolf to human. 

“Werewolf” He grinned; you could hardly believe moments ago his perfect teeth were razor sharp. 

“Werewolf?” You repeated, still struggling to take in everything that had happened in the past few hours. You’d always felt an intense unexplainable energy in the air since you’d moved to the area but you were not expecting werewolves. Or vampires for that matter. Bucky chuckled at your wide eyes, helping you sit up. 

“Not Jacob from Twilight werewolf” He playfully rolled his eyes while you giggled, “A real werewolf sweetheart” 

“Ah, of course, so more Mason from Wizards of Waverly place” You giggled, half expecting yourself to wake up from whatever strange dream this was. “tell me more”

“Hmm” Bucky thought, not knowing where to start, a part of him worried you’d be scared off, though you didn’t seem to be uncomfortable around him. “We’ve lived here for generations, the territory is ours. We don’t typically reveal ourselves to the outside world. We don’t have to wait for a full moon to change, we can do it any time. We shift according to our places in the pack”

“And what's your place in the pack” 

“Leader” He smiled softly, proud of his pack, the family he loved more than himself. 

“Thank you by the way”, your fingers skimming over a few scratches that were on his hands, previously large paws when he had fought off Walker, “For saving me...” You realized you didn’t know his name.

“Call me Bucky, doll” 

Bucky insisted you sleep in his room though you refused, not wanting to impose. He laid out his softest and warmest blankets and coziest pillows, creating a safe space for you to sleep in. You gasped, looking at the way he’d set everything up, it almost resembled a nest of blankets and pillows. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, giving you some of his clean clothes to sleep in after you showered. You fell asleep instantly, his soft scent all over the bed lulling you into a peaceful slumber as soon as your head touched the pillow. 

Bucky made his way back outside to check on Steve, Sam and Peter, rolling his eyes when he saw they were perfectly fine, the three nursing beers while sitting on the stairs of his cabin. 

“What the hell are you-”

“So this is who you’ve been keeping an eye on” Sam smirked, nudging Bucky’s shoulder while Steve and Peter shared shit eating grins. 

“Shut up Sam”

“See? He didn’t deny it!”

“So what, you’ve been watching me?” Bucky cocked and eyebrow while Sam scoffed. 

“Please. You’re always looking out the window like a love sick puppy” 

Bucky was able to control many things with his body but he couldn’t for the life of him control the blush that spread across his cheeks. 

“I didn’t know alpha’s could blush” Steve cackled while the rest joined, each poking fun at the way his cheeks reddened more. 

“I’m going to sleep, or so help me God-” He shook his head, going back inside and laying on the couch. He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered around his tummy, the sweet sunshine he loved to see everyday was there. 

In his home.

In his bed.

In his clothes.

...

Calm down Bucky.

He made sure to periodically check on you like clock work, not getting a wink of rest through the night, not when you had been hurt. He loved the way you looked, curled up in his bed, sleeping soundly. A flash of anger pulsed through him when his eyes fell on your bandages. Those that hurt you. It’d be a problem for another day but he’d fine a permanent solution to that problem very soon. 

*****

You blinked awake, the delicious scent or fresh berries and pancakes wafting through the air. You felt warmth creep up your cheeks when you found another fresh set of clothes placed by the bed along with a brand new tooth brush and a towel. You mentally scolded yourself for the way your heart tried to skip at his acts of kindness, but you couldn’t help it.

There was something about him. 

You quickly got changed, padding down to the table where stacks of pancakes were piled high along with cut up berries. Bucky grinned when he saw you, his heart fluttering again at the way his Henley hung loosely on you. 

“Good morning doll, how you feeling”

“Better, again thanks to you” You felt giddy over his handsome smile and yet a sense of calm whenever you were near him. You couldn’t understand why you felt so comfortable around his presence. He was a stranger to you yet you felt like you’d found your place. You’d known him for less than 24 hours but there was a connection. Around him, you felt protected. Cared for. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the leader, so naturally he had a very protective nature. That had to be it, it’s not like you were special to him.  

You repeatedly had to remind yourself to stop gazing at him because there was another issue. It’s not like you were blind. Bucky was gorgeous. You loved his scruffy beard and dark hair, what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through his soft-

What- 

You blinked, clearing the rogue thoughts that tried to probe your mind, distracting yourself with breakfast instead. 

“I didn’t know werewolves liked pancakes” You teased, ignoring the way your skin heated up, popping a berry into your mouth.

“I like to eat lots of things, doll” Bucky smirked at the way you moaned, licking off a droplet of the berry juice that stained your lips. Your pretty lips. Soft. Supple. Kissable. Would look even prettier wrapped around his co-

He shook his head, hoping to get his mind out of the gutter, why was he like this. A knock on the door made you jump while Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing a few more plates before making his way to the door. 

“For fucks sake, even on a Saturday” Bucky mumbled to himself, knowing damn well the three idiots he called friends would have smelled him making breakfast from 3 cities away, let alone a few cabins down. You heard the voices of a few men, two large men about the size of Bucky entered the kitchen along with another who looked much younger. 

“Y/n, this is Steve, Sam and Peter”

You instantly recognized the three as the very same ones who had came with Bucky the day you were attacked. All three of them were as sweet to you as Bucky but you couldn't help but find Peter the most adorable, who managed to eat the most out of everyone. They happily raided the kitchen, passing each other glances you couldn't pinpoint, each look making Bucky more flustered.

“You protected me” You smiled at Peter, who blushed, stuffing another pancake into his mouth while Sam shook his head in disgust. 

“It was nothing, we’re just happy you’re safe” Peter preened at your praise, finishing the last of what was on the table. 

“Barnes, Peter ate everything again”

“For fucks sake-” 

Bucky didn’t let you lift a finger the entire morning, serving you everything you wanted and clearing the table away. In fact, he didn’t let you do anything that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. A week. Two weeks. He wanted to make sure you were completely okay before letting you leave. He was there to take care of anything you needed, cleaning and applying the oil to your cuts, redressing the bandages. Getting you fresh clothes. Fluffing out your bed so it’d be warm and cozy.  While you adored the warmth of his bed, you couldn’t help but wish he’d just stay with you instead. He’d introduced you to the rest of his pack, everyone happy to have you around when they saw the way his cheeks would tint pink when you sat beside him.

You’d both spent countless hours each night, talking by the fire place or walking in the moonlight. Each night, he’d make sure you were comfortably tucked in before crashing on the couch, occasionally morphing into his wolf form and curling up by the door just to be extra safe.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you. What started as admiring you from afar was now making his heart beat faster. Skin warmer. He knew the feeling was far more intense than just friendship. He felt a bond. Something that pulled him to want you by his side forever.

For you to be his mate.

It was rare for werewolves to find a mate that wasn't a werewolf like himself but here was. In love with you. He never felt a pull like this towards someone else. Everything he felt was 10 times stronger than before, growing more and more with each day he spent with you. 

*****

“I know it’s been a few days but...maybe you should stay a little longer?” Bucky knew there was truthfully no reason for you to stay any longer; the wounds had completely healed and you were perfectly fine.

Still...

"Are you sure?" You bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his arms for the night as he stood by the bedside, handing you one of his sweaters.

"Of course, I-I don't want anything to happen to you, so just to be safe" He smiled softly, itching to just crawl into bed with you and snuggle.

“Bucky, you-you don’t have to sleep on the couch” You sat up just as he was about to leave, your heart beating a little faster when he stopped and turned around. "You can sleep here"

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, moving over slightly and lifting the covers up so he could lay beside you. At the start of the night Bucky was as still as a statue, worried you'd find it odd if he got too close, making sure there was distance between you both before he closed his eyes.

Of course, even in his sleep he sought you. You sighed contently at the feeling of his arm wrapping around you waist, pulling you close to his chest, his face burying into your neck, a happy low rumble emitting from his chest at the way you felt in his arms. He nuzzled his face into your skin, keeping you flush against him the entire night, hoping the sun would ride just a little bit later.

Every night, your cuddles became a little more intimate. You'd start off at opposite ends of the bed, only to find yourself tangled in each other each morning. Hands would wander a little more each time with gentle touches and a few extra kisses.

****

"Just come cuddle" You giggled as he scooted over, giving up on trying to sleep at the other side of the bed. Bucky smiled, pulling you to lay on his chest, his hand slipping past your shirt, gently stroking your spine. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, loving the way your skin felt on his lips. He didn't want to stop, continuing to trail kisses down your face, holding you a little tighter, the need to have you completely growing stronger. His eyes locked with yours, nervously leaning down, smiling against your lips as you closed the gap between you both.

His hands carded through your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips, slipping into your parted mouth. He couldn't help himself, rolling you both over so you were pinned under him, dominating the kiss till you both needed air. Your eyes grew wide feeling his length pressing against your tummy, hips rutting slightly, fighting himself from stuffing you full of him.

"Buckyy" You panted from under him, gripping onto his arms, spreading your legs further for him. The needy whine that fell from your lips made him growl, he could smell how aroused you were, his cock painfully hard in his sweats. "Need you"

“I-I don’t want to hurt you” He whispered, his mind conflicted over wanting you so badly but also worried his hurt you with his strength. He nearly whimpered feeling the warmth of your core pressed against him, your thighs squeezing the sides of his waist.

“You won’t hurt me Bucky” Your eyes were pleading with him, needing this just as much as he did, he only had so much self restraint.

“Let me taste you?” He crawled down, his fingers skimming around the waist band of the boxers he had given you to wear, pulling them down as you nodded. He threw his own shirt off before settling between your legs, spreading your pussy apart, his hunger for you growing at the way you glistened under the dimly lit room. "You smell so sweet, angel"

You felt shy under his intense gaze as he looked up at you while kissing the soft flesh of your thighs. Bucky nearly growled as soon as his tongue flicked across your clit, feeling the way it throbbed each time he licked you. His lips sealed around your sensitive nub, alternating between lapping up your arousal and toying with your clit, suckling and kissing you, moaning when he felt your hands tug at his hair.

"Grind on my face sweets" Bucky threw your legs over his shoulders, urging you to push his face down deeper, the greedy side of him wanting to suffocate between you legs. You squeaked when he guided your hand to pull at his roots, a feral look flashing in his eyes when you hesitantly pulled a little harder, his eyes rolling back.

"Just like that baby, I'll use my tongue all over this pretty pussy, just show me how" He groaned as you pushed his head down, your back bowing off the bed feeling his tongue slip inside you, drinking every drop you gave him.

"Bucky, need you-" Your body felt hot, pussy clenching and throbbing, aching for him to fill you. He kissed up your body, throwing the rest of your clothes off before lining himself up with your entrance, his breath fanning over your face.

"Sweetheart, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself" He stroked your forehead, his cock leaking against your pussy. "It's more than just- I can't explain it-

You smashed your lips against his, squeezing your legs around his waist tighter, cutting off his nervous rambling. "Please, I want you, want to feel you Bucky, all over you"

"M'right here angel, you have me" He let out a shuddered breath as he started to press into you, moaning against your neck once he was fully sheathed inside you. He moved slowly, rocking his hips while his nose tracing against the column of your neck, his hands moving to fist the sheets. He could feel them tear under his grip, your tight pussy and sweet scent awakening something primal.

“Doll...” He groaned in your ear, his cock swelling more with each thrust, “Baby, I-

He let out a desperate growl, his hands balled into fists, his corded back muscles tensed, holding back from pounding you into the mattress. You could feel his cock grow harder, stretching you more, the swollen tip rubbing against your sweet spot making you gush around him.

“What is it” You whispered, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek, your soft touch only making it more difficult for him to hold back.

“Fuck baby” It almost hurt him, desperately wanting you to be all his, his tongue licking and nipping your neck, biting his lip to keep from sinking his teeth in. “Want you to be mine”

“I'm yours Bucky” You carded your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp, making him growl, the soft color of his eyes now an intense sapphire blue and glowing. Bucky gently nipped your neck, holding back how badly he wanted to claim you, mark you, the smooth canines of his teeth growing sharper the more you moaned for him.

"Y-you don't understand sweets, I want-I want you forever"

"You have me Bucky" You clenching around him, your moans broken as the band in your belly tightned more. Bucky grinded his hips down, desperate to be as deep inside you as possibly, the coiled hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, warmth spreading through your body. "I'm-I'm gonna-

"Cum for me angel, I need it, need it baby, cum for me please" He moaned with you, his hand flying to the headboard, the wood splintering and cracking under his grip. He started to chase his own high, speeding his thrust's up, his balls slapping your ass grunts growing deeper.

"M'gonna cum baby" He could hard speak, too consumed and overwhelmed by the way he felt inside you, his cock swelling and throbbing, spurts of precum already soaking your pussy.

"Cum Bucky!"

"You're mine" He panted, his forehead resting on yours, "Say it sweets, say you'll always be mine?"

"M'yours" You nodded, kissing his nose, your hands cupping his face, "All yours Bucky, make me yours"

"Oh FUCKK" Bucky moaned against your neck, his teeth grazing your soft skin, biting just enough to to mark you without hurting you, gently licking the area after while he continued to moan and whine, his orgasm unending. "All mine"

You both laid tangled in the sheets, going for a few more rounds until the sun came up. You shivered at the feeling of his hands trace over your skin, your whole body sensitive from how many times he had you cum all over his cock. His hands. His face. There was a feeling of security surrounding you as you laid on his chest, the faint mark on your neck tingling.

“Will you be my mate?” Bucky whispered shyly, blushing more at your giggle while you sat up slightly, your nose bumping against his.

"Even if I'm not a werewolf? " You teased while Bucky playfully rolled his eyes, nipping you again.

“Of course, how else will I protect you bunny” He let out a growl, cocking his eyebrow while you squealed, finding yourself flipped under him again. "You'll stay with me sweetheart?"

"Even if I can't change into a giant a fluffy puppy like you under a full moon?"

"Yes"

"Even if I can't hear Sam sneaking into the house for breakfast from 3 houses down"

"We'll work on that"

"Do I always have to rub your belly and feed you my peanut butter treats when you turn into a pouty little werewolf, pretending to be a big scary leader to everyone else"

"Yes and now that you know that secret, you have to stay" Bucky grinned, his hopeful eyes shining brighter when you cupping his face, kissing him deeply.

"I already told you, I'm all yours"

****

Imagine the utter joy the rest of the pack get from how soft Bucky is for you. They're so used to seeing him unmoving and broody but now theres flowers around his cabin and the blush is just part of his face now. Steve and Sam help move some of your things over to Bucky's, more than happy to have you around because now there's even more food for them to eat.

Nothing turns you on more than when he goes into protective mode. His eyes glow. His muscles tense. The growl that rumbles from deep in his chest makes your thighs squeeze together. He keeps you by his side, always touching you, his hands lingering on your waist, toying with your hair or playing with your fingers.

It's not often he fully transforms but when he does, its because someone got too close to you.

You can't help but giggle when you see him transform into his werewolf form because he's beautiful and scary, teeth barred out, claws flexed out, but only you know how adorably cuddly he is when he's just alone with you. He nudges his head against your hand, whining for you to give him attention, he's three times your size but his tail swishes about like a playfully puppy.

Theres no doubt you're the best thing thats ever happened to him.

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#werewolves #werewolf bucky #werewolf bucky barnes #bucky barnes werewolf au #bucky barnes werewolf #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes comfort fic #marvel werewolf au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfics #bucky banes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel smut

[darkdemeter]

OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto. 

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces. 

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

“You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. 

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

#female reader #gn reader #male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #werewolf reader #marvel #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #werewolf #mafia au #mafia wanda maximoff #mafia natasha romanoff #mafia reader #wanda maximoff x werewolf reader #old draft #concept scrap #dem's updates #wanda x y/n

[gingiesworld]

Family Ties (2/?)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @natashasilverfox @the-ox-fan20 @purpleturtletragedy

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N looked up at the night sky, her father stood beside her with his hand resting on her shoulder. Explaining her whole existence and the clan.

"Once you turn, it will hurt at first but the more you do it, the easier it gets." He told her as he knelt down before her. "Now close your eyes and breathe." He told her, smiling as she followed his every word. "Deep breaths and feel the change." He stepped back as soon as he heard bones starting to crack and crunch. He smiled as he watched her turn for the first time.

Soon he stood before a white wolf before he turned himself. Gesturing for her to follow him into the woods. Y/N had felt free for the first time, the wind running through her fur as she ran at a high speed. The feeling of the earth beneath the pads of her paws. The way her claws would dig in the soft dirt with every step. Soon the two stood on a ledge, looking out at the horizon as the moon shone brightly.

Nat had remained in her seat, reading more information on what they had retrieved from Hydra. Seeing that the girl who lay unconscious was indeed a part of an experiment. Just as she started to read over Y/N's blood work from Hydra, Y/N had started to wake. Jumping up as she never recognised the room.

"Hey." Nat spoke softly as Y/N looked at her. "It's ok. You're safe now." She told her as she approached with her hands in front of her. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."

"Y/N Selene." She muttered as she was backed into a corner. "Please don't hurt me." She whimpered as Nat knelt before her with a tender smile on her face.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Nat told her tenderly. "I just want to help you."

"I don't want to go back there." Y/N whispered as Nat shook her head.

"You won't ever go back there. Never again." She told her firmly. "Let me help you back on the bed." Nat held out a hand which Y/N hesitantly took, sitting on the bed before Wanda came bursting inside.

"Hi, I'm Wanda." She greeted as she placed the folded clothes down. "Nat gave me these when I first arrived here before she took me shopping. Her taste isn't really for me but maybe you can use them until then."

"Thank you." Y/N smiled at her gratefully before she turned to Nat.

"Wanda is another member of the team here, whenever you're ready you can meet the rest." Nat told her softly as Wanda observed the two.

"I think maybe leave it for now." Y/N told her. "I just, I don't know how much you guys know about me."

"We know that you are a werewolf." Nat told her as she took a seat. Wanda made sure to lock the door to stop any unexpected guests from entering the room. "And your family has been looking for you, going back over a decade."

"I was 12 when they took me." Y/N informed her. "I have been with them for years and they wanted to learn about us, my clan and what we can do."

"It's ok, no one is going to expect anything of you here." Wanda told her. "We understand how awful Hydra can be, I was an experiment at the Sokovia base." Wanda leaned on the wall. "Well, I volunteered thinking that they would help our country, stop the war that was going on at the time."

"Bottom line is that Hydra is the enemy." Nat stated as she cut off Wanda, seeing how Y/N looked at her curiously. "But here, the Avengers will help you, we can help you train and get adjusted to the real world and maybe find your family."

"You can't be serious?!" Tony yelled. "She needs to be locked up!"

"She doesn't." Steve started.

"She is a werewolf. What do we even know about them? Are they unpredictable? Dangerous? Deadly?" Tony cut him off.

"Hey! Just cut her some slack." Bucky told him. "I was Hydra's weapon for decades. Wanda too. Nat was with the Red Room and a double agent. We all proved trustworthy and weren't thrown in a cell. Let's just give her a chance."

"Maybe the girls can start with her?" Clint suggested. "She might be more comfortable opening up to Nat and Wanda."

"Where are the girls?" Steve questioned.

"They are both with the patient." Vision informed them.

"That's good." Steve nodded.

"Nat stayed with her all night." Bruce stated as Tony scoffed as he walked away.

"Then it is settled, we will leave her in the hands of Nat and Wanda. Besides, they're scary enough that none of us will even question it." Steve stated as everyone agreed. Only Tony went straight to Bruce's lab to steal the blood work to do some research of his own, even using the intel he had retrieved from the base.

Wanda was showing Y/N her powers, lifting some objects up and making them float around the room.

"That's so cool." Y/N smiled as she watched the red magic dance around Wanda's fingertips.

"I've not long learned how to control it." Wanda told her. "Nat and Steve helped me a lot."

"I don't want to change." Y/N confessed as the two girls gazed at her. "They made me change every day, multiple times a day." She started to play with her fingers. "They drugged me, aconitine."

"Wolfsbane." Nat stated as Y/N nodded.

"I used to love changing before they captured me. It was freeing back then but then they wanted me to do it all the time." Y/N told them. "But now, I hate it. You would think it would be easier, less painful but it just, the aconitine was making everything hurt worse than it should."

"What happens when you change?" Nat questioned softly as Y/N wiped her eyes.

"My bones break and morph into a canine skeleton." Y/N told her. "It can be painful but with aconitine, it makes it so much worse."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Nat spoke tenderly. "But we wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to." Nat noticed that Steve was standing outside, gesturing for her to talk. "I'll be back in a moment." Both Wanda and Y/N watched as she left the room, closing the door behind her. "What is it Steve?"

"Tony is stating that she needs to be put in a cell." Steve told her.

"Y/N is not going in a cell." She snarled as Steve raised his hands before him.

"We all went against him, but he won't give her a room." Steve told her.

"She can bunk with me." She shrugged as Steve smiled at her.

"You really have taken to her haven't you?" He questioned.

"She is just like the rest of us." Nat told him. "She has been through a lot and we need to help her like we helped each other."

"We will help her." Steve told her. "Tony is the only one we need to worry about."

"She won't turn." Nat told him. "Something they forced her to do everyday in Hydra."

"Well, she is safe here." He told her.

"What if we help her find her family?" Nat asked him as he folded his arms.

"I don't think Tony would allow us." He told her.

"We can maybe ask Fury or Maria for help." She suggested. "We don't always have to go through Stark."

"You're right." He nodded. "I'll arrange a meeting with Fury." He started to walk away. "What's her name?"

"Y/N Selene." She told him before turning back and re-entering the room.

"That was about me wasn't it?" Y/N asked as both she and Wanda watched her approach.

"It was." Nat nodded. "You're going to be bunking with me for the time being, and we are going to try and help find your family."

"Thank you." Y/N whispered as Nat gave her a small smile before she picked up the files.

"Well, I think we should have a movie night." Wanda clapped excitedly before she went on to talk about possible options.

"Don't worry, it's just that you are the closest to her in age and I think it's something that she needs." Nat whispered as the two watched Wanda with amused smiles.

"Well, I could do with a friend here too." Y/N replied as Nat smiled wider as she nodded.

The night went as expected, the three girls had moved into Nat's room as Wanda brought all of the snacks. Y/N just looked at the bed and the floor.

"You can sleep in the bed with me." Nat told her softly. "I don't mind sharing, hell I had Wanda come in here in the middle of the night when she first moved here."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Y/N whispered in a small voice.

"You won't make me uncomfortable." Nat told her. "Now get comfy." She watched as Y/N hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed. Reluctant to move further up the bed as though it would hurt her.

"I haven't slept in a bed in over a decade." Y/N told her. "Well, that's how long I think it is." Y/N turned to her. "I guess when you're strung up like a rabid animal, your perception of time becomes non-existent."

"You won't ever have to go through that again Y/N." Nat told her as she sat beside her. "I promise you." Nat opened her arms slightly. "Can I hug you?" Y/N only nodded as she melted into Nat's embrace. Little did they know that in that moment, they had become tethored. Destined to be one.

"So you want to use SHIELD resources to look for these people?" Fury questioned. "Why not just use what you have at the tower?"

"I can't trust that Tony jeopardizes our search." Steve told him before explaining the whole situation.

"I can understand how he feels." Fury told him.

"We didn't lock Wanda up when she joined, or Bucky." Steve reminded him. "And the two of them actually tried to kill a majority of us when they worked with Hydra."

"That isn't the point, Y/N is a werewolf." Fury stated.

"Wanda is a witch and Bucky is a super soldier." Steve countered.

"Ok." Fury sighed as he rubbed his brow. "Make sure she isn't a danger to herself or any of you."

"Nat and Wanda are with her, helping her settle in." Steve informed him. "I figured it would be easier on Y/N."

"Good, I'll have Maria do the search and she will contact either you or Romanoff directly." Fury told him. "Until then, try and get her on a training schedule too, just in case we don't find her family, she could be an asset to the team." He waved Steve out the door which Steve thanked him before leaving the base.

#natasha romanoff au #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff sad #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x werewolf fem reader #wanda maximoff #marvel

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as abuse, gore, blood, violence, and possible untagged 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: Your marriage is marred in misery with no escape in sight... until he shows up at your door. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Adam Warlock

Note: I hope ya'll like this one. I know it's a new and not so popular character.

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The bin crashes down into the shrapnel of plastic and trash littered across the kitchen tile. Shane kicks an empty yogurt cup as you stare down in futility as the mess. If he didn't insist on the cheap bags, they would tear so easily but you're not stupid enough to say so.

"I work all fucking day and come home and you want me to take out the goddamn trash! Now look!" 

You gulp, batting your eyes at him, paralysed in fear. You can't make your body move. You should grab a new bag and clean it all up, insist that he go sit down and you'll do the work. He doesn't give you a chance for all that as he lunges at you.

You step back on your heel with a squeak, caught around your neck as he spins and swings you around with him. He hooks a foot around yours, bringing you easily to your feet, bending you over the stinking potato skins as your arms shake. You fight to keep him from mashing your face into the garbage.

"And where's dinner? What am I supposed to eat? Maybe you should swallow this all up and you'll realise the sort of bullshit I gotta come home to," he snarls, "stupid fucking bitch."

“I’m s-sorry,” you croak, throat scraping as you try to swallow a sob, “I’ll… I’ll clean this up–”

“Damn right you will,” he barks and jerks you as he rips his grip from your neck, “useless…”

He kicks a plastic tray at you before he stomps off, leaving you to stare at the mess. You sit back on your heels, quivering, and exhale slowly. You shift and reach behind you, opening the cupboard under the sink to retrieve a new bag.

You peel it open and gather up the garbage, piece by piece, focusing on the task as you ignore the odor and the occasional moisture that smears on your hand. As you get it tied up, you stand, choking on your tears as they spill out unstemmed. 

You sneak out the back door and carry the bag around the side of the house. You keep your chin down, hoping your neighbours don’t witness your despair. You come up to the gray bin and lift the lid, shoving the bag inside and letting it close with a thunk.

You grab the handles and wheel it away from the siding, the large container rattling as you force it along the uneven grass and onto the walkway. The wheels bounce on the cracks in the pavement and you stop to pull open the white picket fence, paint flaking away beneath your touch.

You continue on and guide the bin to the curb, letting it rest there as you sniffle and try to shake away the last of your weeping. You can’t go back inside like this. If he sees you crying, it will only make him angrier. 

You look across the street at the other houses; they’re all nicer than the rundown rental you share with Shane. Where the leaves are strewn in a layered carpet across the mulch of your lawn, the others have the autumnal canopy neatly raked into piles. When you asked for him to grab the rake, his answer was especially bruising. So you’ll see if you can’t get to it tomorrow.

You sigh and turn on your heel, squeaking as you nearly collide with another. You didn’t hear or see the man approach. There was no shadow in his approach, no footsteps scuffing to warn you. You press yourself to the bin as you look up at him. Your chest compresses under some unseen force as the air is forced from your lungs.

You try to apologise for your carelessness but your lips can only form the singular stutter, ‘s-sorry’ as your voice is trapped in your breathless throat. You stare at the man. It’s almost as if he had been waiting for you to turn around.

The leather jacket, the patch sewn on the left-side of his chest, the cool confidence of his posture, they all assure you of who he is. Of the danger he carries with him. You blink up dumb, waving in front of your chest as you try to eke out a single noise, pleading with him not to be angry.

His pale blue eyes twinkle as his smiles, a soft crinkle beside his eyes as the dimming night limns his long face. If Shane saw you standing here with this man, of any, he would lose his mind. You have to get back inside. You have to get away from this stranger.

“No sorry,” he says, his voice rocky but not unkind, “I am in your way.”

He slowly steps aside, retreating as he goes to rest his hand on the post of the white picket gate. He waits expectantly, waving you within as his smooth, deliberate movements fill you with dread. There is a carelessness in him which betrays fearlessness. You will never know what it’s like to not be hounded by inexorable dread. It both irks you and scares you.

You make yourself move. You cross the sidewalk and enter through the open gate, as he looms over you. His gaze is hot on you, clinging and suffocating. Your heart hammers with adrenaline. If there is anyone you fear more than Shane, it is these men and their black leather shadows.

“Have a good night,” he says as he pulls the gate shut between you, “I hope whatever makes you sad does not keep you awake…”

You can breathe again. You gulp in air and fold your hands in front of you. You turn to the man and nearly gasp. There’s something eerie in how he lurks, in how he is both draped in shadow but shines among it.

“Good night,” is all you can get out.

“No moon,” he says as he draws his hand away from the wooden post, “it will be a good night for rest.”

He puts his hands in the deep pockets of his leather jacket. His breath fogs around him, billowing over his shoulders as he strides through it. You watch his silhouette as he departs, his footsteps make no noise and the night seems to close in around him until you can see him no longer.

You shudder and hug yourself as you back up. You turn, fighting a tugging that tries to keep you outside. You head back between the house and the fence as a chill creeps up your spine. 

Your stomach pits as a sudden desolation overwhelms you. You feel hollow and heavy, as if you could collapse right there. You can’t, you have to make dinner. You won’t get much sleep if Shane goes hungry.

🌑

Shane leaves at the usual time. His shifts at the factory are your only escape. They don’t always feel like that as you spend the hours worrying about his return. About what mistake he’ll find when he gets home. So your time is spent still keeping him happy, though you’ve never managed that.

Along with the endless list of chores come those thoughts. Those regrets and questions of how it ended up like this. On when he started to hate you. On when you decided to accept that.

You pull on one of his flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. You dig out some gardening gloves from the shed and take the rake with you as you put your mind to clearing the lawn. The autumnal air is crisp but fresh. It’s almost refreshing.

You come out to the front of the house, starting at the walkway, clearing it of the leaves, brushing them onto the grass. From there, you drag the teeth of the rake away, pushing the growing pile towards the corner of the fence. 

Sweat beads on your forehead and dampens beneath the layers of clothing. You huff out a thick hot breath into the cold air. The briskness sneaks down the back of your collar and chills you.

“The winter is close,” the statement startles you from your work.

You plant the rake and grip the handle, facing the figure outside the fence. It’s the same man. Your lips part but you can’t say a word.

“Can you feel it?” He asks.

Your jaw chatters. His eyes fall to your lips as you try to hide it. He steps forward and sets his hands on the points of the fence, leaning in.

“It’s colder when you are alone…” he says.

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “I am not…”

You look back at the house and he chuckles. You turn back to him and bring your other hand to the wooden rake handle. He considers the leaves on the ground with interest. He pushes himself straight. He seems taller than before.

“Are you not?” He asks cryptically. “This is a lot of work for only one.”

You shrug, unsure how to answer.

“I can help.”

Your mouth is dry and your tongue is sticky. You make yourself talk.

“I don’t know you…”

“Adam,” he says pointedly, “my name is Adam. Tell me your name, then we will know each other.”

You speak before you think. As if you didn’t have a choice. Even if reluctance needles at the back of your mind, knowing that Shane would not want you to speak to this man, your name tumbles out as if you owe it to the stranger. Adam.

“Beautiful,” he remarks as he nears the fence, reaching over to the clasp, “let me help.”

“N-no,” you drag the rake with you and catch the gate as he lifts the latch, “please–”

“You must rest,” he shows his palm in a strange gesture, sweeping it in front of you, “you are dizzy and feel unwell. You need to sit down.”

Silver stars speckle in your vision and you feel the world shift under your feet. You look down and clutch the rake tight, feeling as if you might fall over. You let go of the fence and take a step back as you touch your forehead.

“I am… lightheaded,” you admit, confused at how suddenly it come upon you.

He pushes the gate inward and enters. He shuts it with a gentle metal clink and grips the rake above your hand. You recoil, letting him have it as your limbs grow heavy. He leans the tool against the fence and turns to you again.

“Please,” he puts a hand on your arm, the contact filling your head with smoke, “sit down, bunny.” He ushers you to the front steps and helps you sit there. He braces your shoulders and bends over you, “you will not move until I bid.”

You look at him, confused but comforted by his touch. You nod. He pulls his hands away, caressing your cheek before he stands straight. You shiver and hug yourself.

He lingers as his zipper cuts in the air. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders and swings it around you, the smell of leather surrounding you. He tugs it snug around you and retreats. You can’t help put pull it tighter as another scent tickles your nose; him.

His boots mulch across the leaves and grass and he grabs the rake. He resumes your work, easily heaping up the clutter, the steady scrape of the tines easing you. You look up and watch him. He is unbothered by the cold despite the thin cotton of his black tee shirt. His muscles tauten beneath the fabric as he works.

You feel sleepy as the pale sky blurs around his stark figure. You’re hypnotised by his steady motions, his easy strength. A strand of his golden hair falls forward as he focuses on the ground, gathering up the leaves with diligent care. Your lashes cling to each other and your eyelids itch. 

You hug the jacket closer and dip your nose behind the collar. The weight of fatigue settles over you and coaxes your eyes shut. The rake continues to scrape in your ears even as you sink down into oblivion.

🌒

You wake to blackness. Dark lines trim the corners of the room as slowly your vision lifts to a dull gray. The night stares in through the windows, frosted with the slow creep of winter. The wind howls and rattles the pane in the frame. The cold looms outside like a spectre but does not enter.

You are warmer. Too warm. Your body heat enshrines you beneath the quilt pulled to your chin. Despite your want to escape from the stolid cocoon, you do not move. A languid weight keeps you at peace despite your discomfort.

You’ve never felt like this, so calm. There’s a dull tapping at your skull that tells you to worry, to be afraid, but it’s quickly smothered and forgotten. Why should you be? You are home and safe in bed.

You let your eyes close and hum. You just want to sleep, to slip away and never wake up. You drift, mind skewing as if you’re floating on a tide. Then it swells and crashes over you with the dark growl that seeps in through the wall.

Your breath hitches and your lashes snap open. Your ears itch as you listen, trying to hear through the plaster. There are soft, muted murmurs but nothing discernible. You quiver as you hang in the limbo; do you stay or get up?

Slowly, you bring your hands up and pull the quilt away from your face, peeling it with effort past your chest. Cool air sweeps over you, urging you to nestle back beneath the patchwork. You hear it again, like a beast it grits deep through the air, gravelly and harsh.

Sitting up is difficult. That same dizziness blurs your mind. You squeeze your eyelids shut and bid away the echoing auras. When you look again, the world is steady. You stand without reaching for the lamp. You wade through the darkness like quicksand, each step impeded by unseen bounds.

At the door, you wait, hand on the knob, brass cold to the touch. You inhale and taste the air wafting in around the frame. It’s sharp and frigid. 

You turn the knob and lift the door on its hinges. You peek down the hall, it’s dark but for the orange flicker glowing from down the hall. That house, the place you call home, the walls you could etch from memory, is suddenly strange and sinister.

You let go of the door and tiptoe out, the voices drawing you in. The conversation garbled in your fuzzy ears. It isn’t until you get closer that you can make out the words. That you recognise the familiar tones.

“What.. are you… waiting for?” Shane’s words are interspersed with moist gulps and groans.

A snicker, short and stony. There’s little humour in the laughter. Adam replies, “justice.”

“You…criminals are all the same,” Shane utters through laborious breaths, “bunch… freaks… like you… should leave… this town.”

“We own this town,” Adam says, “there would be nothing but dirt if it wasn’t for us freaks.”

A hork and the wet splat of spit on the floor jolts you. You stop just before the doorway, shuddering as you hesitate and look back down the hall. You can go back to bed and hide. If you do, you might wake up and realise it’s all just a rotten nightmare.

“Come on, bunny,” Adam calls to you.

You spin back, finding yourself still alone with only the lip of the wall between you and the flickering amber light. You put your hand on the plaster and your other on your chest. He cannot mean you.

“I hear you,” he says evenly, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

You put your foot out and slowly reveal yourself. You turn and face the room from the doorway. You see the single taper burning on the mantel and the tall shadow beside it. Adam lurks with his straight-shoulder but slack posture. 

There is another, in one of the wooden chairs from the dining set, slumped and held up by knotted leather belts. You can see only the back of Shane’s oily black hair. You come forward, eager but terrified to see more of him. 

His right eye is swollen shut, a cut weeping beneath, and his lips dribble blood down his chin. He leans forward, kept upright only by his bounds. His breathing is rickety and shallow. He looks at you with his left eye and grunts.

“...bitch…” he mutters under his breath, “slut…I always… knew…”

“Ah ah ah,” Adam tuts and makes himself taller. Shane flinches and swallows loudly, choking on his split and blood, “you mustn’t value your tongue very much.”

Adam reveals a long dagger, the orange glint of the candle reflecting off of it. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. The metal is both dark and gleaming, a perfectly forged fuller down the middle of the blade.

You turn as you stand transfixed by the sight of your husband. Only then do you notice the scarlet leaking down the front of the wooden armrest, staining deep the veins of the wood. There are three fingers remaining on his right, and one less on his left hand. You cup your mouth behind your hand, catching a scream before it can erupt.

“Shhhhhh,” Adam hushes as he presses himself to your back, “I only had a sampling…”

“What have you done?” You whisper as you gape at the ruin of the man before you. His clothing is shredded so that it reveals the long gashes on his chest and the slices down his thighs. “Why…”

“The strong should protect the weak, not harm them,” he bends and nuzzles your hair, “but more, the weak are not helpless.”

“I don’t understand…” your eyes sting as Shane clenches his jaw and glares at you. How often you saw that same glimmer in him. That sheer hatred that made you wonder if he ever loved you.

“You understand,” Adam’s hand trails down your arm and he pulls you around. He presses the handle of the dagger against your palm and closes your fingers around it, “you know exactly what must be done.”

“Please, I can’t…” you whimper, “you… you hurt him. You’ve…” you look at Shane again, “how could you?”

“I could have cut his heart out by now,” Adam sneers, “but I do not own that.” He squeezes your hand, “it is not mine to take.”

“What…”

“I know what he does. He will not stop. Not until you are dead,” Adam insists as he raises the dagger, his hand still around yours, “or he is.”

He drags you towards Shane and aims the tip of the blade at the slouched man’s chest. He holds it there as you shake, whining as you try to free yourself. His strength is unbending and unbroken. He puts a hand on your back, gripping you tight as he keeps the dagger steady.

“I cannot free you, you must do it yourself…”

You close your eyes. This must be why the townsfolk whisper of the men in leather. Why they scatter at the sight of them. Murderers! Monsters!

“Please–”

“He has made you weak,” Adam purrs into your hair, “I have come to make you strong.”

“No–”

“Yes, you must,” he growls along the rim of your ear, “remember all he has inflicted on you. The names he’s put upon you; bitch, slut, useless, nothing…” he hisses as his hand crawls up to your neck, “how he broke your nose on your wedding night.” 

Your heart races, pounding in your ribs. How could he know that?

“How he put your hand on the lit burner when you forgot to buy milk,” he continues, your shaky grasp tightening as your tears crest and fall free. 

“Or how just the other day, he would have rubbed your nose in garbage like an incontinent mutt–”

“Stop!” You cry out, “stop! How do you know–”

“I know a beast when I see one,” Adam turns his head, his cheek against your temple, “I know a rabid one should be put down before it can maul again.”

“But… but… I love him,” you sniffle.

“Do you?” He lets his hand fall away from yours but you don’t rescind your reach, you don’t move the dagger away from Shane, “does he love you?”

You know he does not. He never did. You were only ever the stupid girl who fell for him. You realised too late what he really was and now you were trapped for life. 

You would be miserable with him until the day you died. Not because he loves you, but because he loves to hurt you.

The tip sinks through the flesh without resistance. You're stunned as you do not stop yourself from letting it further, from pushing it through the layers of fat and muscles, leaning into it until you can’t force it any deeper. You watch the steel bury into him as blood spurts out around your hand and sprays up your sleeve. 

Shane does not scream. He cannot as you pierce his heart. His head falls forward and his body goes limp. You keep a hold of the hilt and jerk it as try to wrench it even deeper.

Your hand is slick with his blood and slips off. You raise a fist instead and hit his lifeless shoulder. You hit him again on the head, another strike to his stomach, and a kick for good measure.

You bring your hands up and look at your blood stained hand, your other palm streaked with flecks of his death. You heave and try to scream but you cannot. You collapse to your knees and keel over onto your elbows. 

You should cry but you cannot. Your tears evaporate as grief eludes you. It should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt? You’re not sad, but you’re not happy. No, you are free.

The floorboards creak and you raise your head as Adam kneels beside you. He touches your chin as his other arm slings around you. He pulls you to him and presses his lips to your temple.

“They will find him,” he caresses your cheek as he speaks, “but they cannot take you if you are with me.”

“Take me?” You ask dumbly.

“They will call you murderer, they will lock you up,” he coos, “I will keep you safe, bunny.” He dips his hand back down and nudges your chin up. He looks down at you, eyes shining silver in the candlelight, “I will keep you happy.”

#adam warlock #dark adam warlock #dark!adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #illuminate #au #werewolf au #series #marvel #mcu

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

🔏Part 1

🔏Part 2

🔏Part 3

🔏Part 4

🔏Part 5

🔏Part 6

🔏Part 7

🔏Part 8

🔏Part 9

🔏Part 10

🔏Part 11

🔏Part 12

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #stucky fanfic #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky angst #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf bucky barnes #werwolf au #steve rogers #Just Let Me Adore You #Just Let Me Adore You Masterlist

[chaotic-good-hippie]

Recuérdame 

Pairing: Jack Russell (MCU) x FemReader (she/her) | SoulmateAU!

Summary: After losing his soulmate a little over a century ago, Jack has long forgotten about love, unable to move on. One night, in a nightclub, life gives him a second chance.

Warnings: Age gap (I mean, the man is 357 here), if you squint your eyes there are some sexual innuendos at the end, mentions of death, non-descriptive reader (but reader does drink tequila at some point)

Translations: Corazón (endearment term) - Heart | Mi vida - My life | Amor mío - My love | Querida - Dear | Por favor - Please | Te amo - I love you

Inspire by: "Recuérdame" cover by Natalia Lafourcade ft. Carlos Rivera

Tags: @littlenosoul | @bitchyglitterfox | @lilpunkrock | @kingtwhiddleston

«How terrible it’s to love something death can touch», especially if one is immune to it. Jack knew from the moment their eyes locked with each other's that he was bound to lose her eventually, that someday he’d have to watch her die, and there was nothing he— or anyone else— could do about it. He convinced himself he'll be prepared for it, let her go in peace when the time came. But heavens, did he underestimate how cruel destiny could be. 

She started coughing on Monday morning, and by Wednesday night, she was gone. Jack couldn’t understand how it all happened so fast and why life had been so vicious with them both. The doctor, the best money could pay, said it was just the flu and that she’ll recover in days without further problems; yet, Jack could feel her slipping through his fingers with each passing hour. The cough gave place to a burning fever that forced her to bed, and by the next morning, she had trouble breathing as she came in and out of consciousness. 

Desperate, he called every doctor, nurse, and healer in town and begged them to save his dear wife's life in exchange for whatever riches they desired. They tried everything their knowledge and skills allowed them to cure her and, at the very least, ameliorate the symptoms, but it was useless. He could see it in their faces, in the way they avoided certain words around him and their worried glances towards her. 

Wednesday afternoon, everyone was sent home at her request, leaving them all by themselves in the mansion they had shared for seven blissful years. Enveloped in the darkness of night, the halls and rooms felt cold and devoid of life, the only sign of their presence coming from their bedroom: The faint light of a candle. It stood up by her bedside table, lighting up her wan face as he sat on a chair next to it, his head resting on her abdomen. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out as a breathy whisper as her tender fingers scratched behind his ear. “I’m terribly sorry, my love.” 

“Don’t be; it’s not your fault.” It took everything in him not to break down into a puddle of tears and a mess of sobs. “You’ve been nothing but good to me.” 

"Promise me you'll find another to keep you company." The request caught him off guard, his teary eyes turning to her in disbelief. "You're too pure for this world, my love. I'm afraid to leave you for all those terrors out there to feast upon you."

"Corazón, mi vida..." He took her hands between his to kiss her knuckles, his heart shattering into a million pieces inside his chest. He couldn't believe that even in her last moments, she was worried about him, the utter devotion and love she had for him. "I... I can't. I could never..." 

"Jack, please, please." How could he deny her anything when she looked at him with such profound despair? "I want... No, I need you to be happy. I'll always be with you, no matter what; whenever you may be, I'll follow... But you can't be on your own for who knows how long, my love. I don't want you to be alone."

"Alright." He kissed her chapped lips delicately as he nodded. "I promise I won't be alone; you don't have to worry about me no more, amor mío." 

"I love you." 

"I love you too. You're the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to me." 

He couldn't hold it anymore: a sob escaped from his lips as the first tear slid down his cheek. She was quick to dry it, and while he leaned against her palm with closed eyes, she softly stroked his hair. 

"There better be a sea of marigolds and tequila on the altar this November, or I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity." She tried joking in hopes of seeing his smile one last time. 

«Haunt me then! Be with me always— take any form— drive me mad! Only do not leave in this abyss, where I cannot find you!» Never had he understood Heathcliff's pain as much as he did then. Still, to avoid disturbing her further, he smiled and hugged her waist tighter. 

"Whatever you desire, querida." 

They remained silent after that, her loving touch and faint breath lulling him into sleep not long after. It was the rays of dawn that filtered through the closed curtains that woke him up hours later, the candle far extinguished. He didn't even need to look; her cold and stiff hands revealed that his greatest fear had come true. 

"Vuelve a mi, corazón. Por favor, por favor..." He'd never cried so hard in his entire life, his face pressed against her chest as he repetead as a chant: "Te amo, te amo, te amo..." 

Jack buried a part of himself with her, but the truth is, all he wanted was to end his misery and lay with her three feet underground. The first few weeks after the funeral, he found it impossible to get off their shared bed in an aching attempt to hold onto the lingering scent of her in the sheets. But when it vanished, along with all the remains of her presence in the mansion, he sold it and moved as far as he could. As for his promise, he couldn’t keep it; he couldn’t find it in himself to even look at any other, no matter how much time passed. He carried her deep in his chest, in that corner of his heart where he had built her a perpetual altar. 

Years, decades, and a whole century passed, but the sorrow never truly disappeared; he just learned to live with it. Still, if one is observant enough and looks at him closely, one would find an ever-present mourning in his eyes. 

In the darkness of this club, though— he thinks— you won't even be able to see your own shoes. 

Every year since he met him, Ted will drag him and a bunch of other monsters to this particular nightclub in his town for Halloween. It's the only night of the year in which they can easily blend in with the humans without fearing the hunters, and a dark, crowded club is an excellent place to hide in plain sight. Typically, Jack would never set foot in a place like that, but for his friend, he'd withstand all the noise for some hours. 

"Why is it that with every year, it gets stinkier in here?" Simon asks as they make their way to a table, the neon lights flashing them occasionally. 

She's right; it reeks of alcohol and sweat, but it isn't even that bad. Besides, something sweet and pleasant is hiding among the crowd, luring Jack deeper into the place; it's familiar and welcoming, but he can't identify why. 

"What is it, doggie?" Shiklah questions him after noticing his distracted demeanor, his eyes scanning the place. "Too much for an old wolf?" 

"No, it's just... Can't any of you smell that? There's a weird scent in here." 

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Satana mocks him, making the others laugh. 

As they sit and start catching up with each other, Jack finally identifies where he had smelled that aroma before, making his heart stop for a second. 

An interesting thing about humans (and monsters, too) is that each one possesses a unique scent, and while their noses cannot identify this, his canine nature allows him to easily make the distinction. This is why he believes to be hallucinating when his brain finally puts a name and face to the aroma currently invading his nostrils. He knows that scent to its core; it's embedded in his skin and memory like a scar, one he had pushed to the back of his mind long ago for survival. It lights something within him, a part of him he believed to have been buried in a faraway land beside the one and only woman he's ever loved. 

Jack jumps out of his seat, looking around him in confusion and longing. Whoever smells like that is getting closer, approaching their spot as he circles the table and tries to locate them. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," He answers Ted, who asked him if he's alright as the others look at him baffled. "I just need to..." 

Distracted and blinded by the darkness, Jack bumped into a woman as he tried to excuse himself away from his friends, something spilling on his shirt. 

"Chin! I'm terribly sorry!" 

"Oh, no, don’t be; it’s not your fault!" The voice makes him freeze in his tracks, hands trembling. "I didn't see you there; it's too dark in here." 

His gaze slowly lifts from the dark floor to the face of the woman in front of him, her face slightly illuminated by neon blue light. Her eyes lock with his, the faintest sign of familiarity in them, and god was he convinced for a moment to have died. Before him, there's a ghost; literally, she's dressed up as one: flowy white dress and dark makeup. Even in the dim, he can recognize all the marks and lines he'd traced so many times with his fingers, the curve of the lips he'd kissed endless times, and the irises he woke up to for seven years in what seems like a lifetime ago. 

She looks just as when he first met her, her tone and movements are identical copies of hers, and she scents the exact fucking same. It drives him wild; it makes him hot and needy. He just wants to jump at her and hug her, smell her, kiss her, taste her... 

"Lucifer!" Shiklah's voice wakes him from his trance. "You are the walking portrait of..." He steps on her foot to shut her up, earning a yelp from her part. The others turn to check on her, allowing Jack to apologize without feeling their stares on them. 

"Damn it, I think I stained your shirt." she points to his chest, where a big wet spot lies: tequila, the smell tells him.

"It's nothing, really; I was distracted as well... Could I offer to buy you another?" 

"You know? There are better ways to approach a woman than spilling her drink, pretty boy." His cheeks immediately burn; heavens, did he miss her coquetry. 

"It worked, didn't it?" She laughs, a sound that crosses directly to his death-hollow heart and reanimates it from his century-long sleep.

"I usually don't accept drinks from strangers, but I think I could make an exception for you." 

"I'm Jack Russell, at your service, señorita." Slowly, he took her hand and kissed the back of it, his gaze fixed on hers. "And you are...?"

She gave him the same name his lips were used to pronounce as a prayer in another life, one his tongue rolled off with such naturalness it seemed tailored to it.  

"Not so much of a stranger now, eh? Now, how about that drink?" 

"The bar is over there." She pointed to his left. "Want me to lead you, Jack?" 

His heart fluttered as she looped her arm with his, guiding him across the floor with a seductive smile on her lips. 

#jack russell x reader #jack russell #jack russell x you #marvel #mcu #werewolf by night #gael garcia bernal #soulmate au

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Blood Moon Rising" pt 5

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: shrinkyclinks, prison au, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), forced mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements

Summary: Steve gets a lot more than he bargained for when a prison riot breaks out and he becomes the captive of an Alpha werewolf.

Author's Note: It got waaay too long for Tumblr, y'all. So this is not the last part

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

Part 5 - "Blood Moon Horizon"

Well, the jig was finally up. 

Steve started showing signs of preheat on a Monday, and by Tuesday, everybody in the village knew. Wolves, Peter explained, could sense these things much, much better than humans could. (Apparently Bucky hadn’t been lying when he’d claimed that he could tell when Steve was ovulating.)

Steve was precisely one day away from his heat—something which was somehow both common and undisputed knowledge amongst the wolves.

Even Steve himself couldn’t have said for sure what day he would hit heat based on his preheat symptoms, but everybody all of a sudden started buzzing around, talking about how tomorrow would be the big day and beginning their preparations for the mating run and celebrations. 

Chatter also increased drastically, once word got around that there was going to be a “blood moon” the next night—something which the wolves held sacred. While rare, a total lunar eclipse meant absolutely nothing to Steve, but by now he’d learned that anything involving the moon’s cycle held great cultural and spiritual significance to the wolves. Apparently they viewed the blood moon as an omen of sorts, a rare occurrence symbolizing great change and rebirth; a time to resolve feuds, dump baggage, and cleanse the self. Steve didn’t think that boded well at all for him, but Peter seemed to find it very exciting.

“Holy shit, dude. Mated on the friggin’ blood moon?! That’s baddass!”

Bucky never came back to the cabin that night. And, sure as shit, the wolves were right: That next morning, Steve woke up in heat. 

“How’d they know?” he whined at Peter, trying to walk around the camp without noticing every single stare that was directed their way. The pack was deep in preparations for his and Bucky’s mating run that night. There was a big heap of wood being assembled in the nearby clearing for that night’s bonfire—apparently a major part of the tradition—and people were bustling about, setting up logs around the area for seating, decorating with foraged plants, stringing flowers and cooking food and brewing a massive amount of some kind of special werewolf cider. Steve eyed the humongous cauldron dubiously as he and Peter crossed the center of the camp. “Is it just a smell thing?”

“Yeah. And pheromones.”

“But that’s the same thing though, isn’t it?”

Peter tried to find a way to explain how it wasn’t the same thing, how pheromones came across to wolves as less of a scent and more of a sixth sense—something that sat right on the periphery of smell and sight and feel. He told Steve that it was like an ‘aura’. “I dunno how else to explain it, man. But it’s very obvious. You might as well have been wearing an ‘I’m about to go into heat’ teeshirt yesterday.”

Well, now he was in heat, and without the modern convenience of any sort of suppressant products, Steve was fully aware of the itch beneath his skin, the wetness between his legs, and the ever-growing ache that was building, deep and powerful, in his belly. He very sincerely missed his shitty shoebox of an apartment back in New York, where he had a very nice collection of both heat-soothing products and knotting dildoes that he could be using right about now. Instead he was stuck here in Hillbilly-town, USA; uncomfortable, horny as fuck, and suffering through every annoying symptom without recourse. 

Of course he had no way of masking any of this from the wolves. Steve had grown up not having to wonder if the 90% beta human population could smell him when he was in heat, and aside from it just being flat out embarrassing that everybody knew, this was also very bad news on a practical level, as now Steve stood virtually no chance of slipping away unnoticed, not when he was lit up like a damn Christmas tree of pheromones. He was so impotently angry at himself over it. He’d had months to try and get away, and now the jig was up. Steve was in heat, he was lit up like a pheromonal beacon to every single person in the pack, and he now had to face the disappointing truth: 

He’d waited too long.

He spent the morning skulking around the edges of camp with Peter by his side, impulsively considering running off into the forest multiple times, but discarding the thought each time it came up.

That wouldn’t work. He’d already been shown that it wouldn’t work, each time the wolves dragged him back to Bucky’s doorstep. And that was before he��d been in heat. Steve did his best to seem taciturn and unapproachable, not wanting to deal with the stares and attention of the people in the village. It was awkward as fuck. And he especially didn’t want to be around Bucky.

But that wasn’t something he had to worry about, because Bucky had pretty much been gone ever since Steve first realized he was in preheat, making himself scarce during the day and returning home to the cabin only once Steve was already asleep. He’d been leaving early each morning, too, before Steve woke. In fact, Steve wasn’t even sure if the Alpha had come back to sleep in the cabin at all last night.

He wasn’t gone though: Steve caught sight of him once or twice on the day of the mating run. The village alphas were holding more of their super-secret, alphas-only meetings, and Steve realized pretty quick that there was no way in hell he could eavesdrop anymore, as they knew right away when he was lurking nearby.

“Just go help put stuff together for the celebration,” Dum Dum scolded as he carried Steve away by the scruff and dumped him in the dirt outside the village’s omega yurt. “You’re not supposed to be around each other right now.”

“I need to talk to him!” 

“You can talk to him plenty tonight,” Dum Dum said meaningfully. “Look kid, it’s tradition, alright? Like the groom and bride not seeing each other. Just go in there and help with the preparations.”

Steve grunted indignantly as he stood up from the ground, brushing the dust off his clothes. “I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-six. And I’m not his bride. He kidnapped me. Why does everybody just gloss over that part like it doesn’t matter?!” 

“Because it doesn’t.” Dum Dum shook his head. “You’re a pill, kid. I don’t know why he wants you, but he does.” Steve glared at him, and Dum Dum narrowed his eyes. “Look, he’s a good man, just trying to do right by his people. He already has to deal with more shit than you know, keeping order in this pack. Don’t go makin’ it harder for him.”

Steve frowned. He knew by now that leadership was fought for amongst the wolves, sometimes brutally. It was hard won and hard kept. It depended on a complex combination of honor, biologically-coded dominance, and sheer brutality, which was why humans so often classified their packs as gangs. But it wasn’t the same. Steve could see that now.

Bucky was a good leader, and though he kept most things very close to the chest, he’d all but told Steve that there were continual challenges to his authority as Alpha. And other people in the pack had made it clear that Bucky being their Alpha was the best thing to happen to the pack in a long time. 

From the moment he’d stopped him from stabbing Batroc with a pencil back at the prison, Dum Dum had always looked at Steve like he was a problem, and that’s how he looked at him now, when Steve scoffed at his admonition not to make trouble for Bucky.

Sure, Steve didn’t want to be the reason a bunch of innocent people had their already-hard existence thrown into chaos, but he still didn’t deserve to be trapped here. His jaw worked in frustration as Dum Dum watched him, clearly waiting for an answer. “I’m just trying to get back to my life,” Steve huffed. “I mean what the heck else am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re supposed to be in there with your own kind, getting ready for the celebration.” Dum Dum pointed at the yurt, and Steve looked over his shoulder with a scowl.

“They’re not my kind. I’m omega, not a werewolf. And I’m not in this pack.”

“For now.”

“And I don’t want to celebrate.” Steve crossed his arms. “I’m not helping with arranging fucking flowers or whatever the hell they’re doing in there.”

“Then maybe talk to some of ‘em,” Dum Dum suggested, gesturing angrily at the yurt’s door. “Maybe you’ll make a friend. Or better yet, maybe they’ll knock some sense into you.” With that, he turned and left.

And so, Steve found himself inside the camp’s omega yurt: a place about which he’d known, but had steadfastly avoided going inside of until now. It was a big, round structure that served as a communal social space for the pack's adult omegas.

Inside, Steve was surprised to find dozens of cozy bean bag chairs and blankets for nesting. Unlike many of the pack cabins, the yurt had a polished wood floor and was fully modernized inside; with the center of the structure housing the nicest, biggest kitchen Steve had yet seen in the entire village, and the interior smelling richly of baked bread and omega bodies. Steve knew that the pack alphas and betas weren’t really supposed to come nosing around there, as it was considered a private, omega-only space. That was comforting, and on a day when not much else could make him feel safe, that kinda did. At least temporarily.

“Steve!”

“Oh is that him?”

“Yo!” 

“Wow, come grab a bag, man. Welcome!”

Over by the beanbag circle, a russet-colored wolf whom Steve recognized as Wanda lifted its head, whining as if in her own form of greeting before flopping back down to lie on the floor and enjoy the ambient heat from the nearby wood stove, just like any other lazy dog might do. Steve smiled despite himself.

He’d been avoiding this place, as he knew that all the other omegas would sit around like Wanda did and try to convince him to be happy with a life in the pack. But now that his fate was rapidly closing in on him, Steve knew he needed to learn as much as he could about what was going to happen that night. He went over to where Darcy was urging him to take up one of the beanbags, and plopped down as she began introducing him to the handful of pack omegas whom he’d seen around camp but never really met. 

“—and of course you know Hairy, over there,” she said at the end, kicking her foot in the air in Wanda’s direction. 

Beside the woodstove, the wolf briefly wagged its tail and chuffed.

“So then it is a wedding,” Steve concluded a while later, after they’d been talking about the upcoming mating run. He peeked around at the other wolves nearby. Wanda hadn’t moved an inch and looked like she was dozing, Nakia was in another of the beanbags, Darcy in another, and Thor’s mate Jane in the one next to that. Peter’s aunt May was over in the kitchen area, working on making a large sheet cake which Peter had already warned Steve would be very disappointing; and Scott—the only other male omega in the pack besides Peter—was loitering on the kitchen’s periphery, pretending to help with the baking while most of his energy went into trying to sneak tastes of the cake batter.

“I mean, the bonfire’s like the reception,” Steve ventured. “The run is kinda like the, um … the ceremony? I guess? And the bite is like the vow.” He made a face as he said it and rubbed his neck self-consciously, still terrified of the thought of Bucky chomping down on him like that. “And then we’ll be married,” he said quietly, thinking, fuck.

“Mated,” Nakia corrected from over on her beanbag, where she had the coffee table pulled up close as she worked on mixing up a bunch of things in bowls with a mortar and pestle. “Same idea. A bit more permanent, though.”

“And way more fun,” Darcy said with a dirty wink. 

She and Jane shared a titter over that, which Steve could only take to mean that they were talking about the sex-part that came at the end. He’d been told all about that, too (though honestly, he’d kind of already figured that there would be a sex-part, once he heard that they’d be doing this whole thing naked). “Yeah,” he said weakly. “ ‘Fun’. Right.”

“Jane got pupped up on the night of her mating run,” Darcy divulged, making Steve’s eyes widen at the thought of the same happening to him. “Maybe you will, too, Steve!”

“Here’s hoping not.” His eyes slid over to Jane, who was using her very pregnant belly as a worktop to thread flowers on a string. “I mean, um, no offense to you or anything.”

“None taken.” Jane looked peevishly over at Darcy. “We don’t know if it was that exact night.”

Jane, Steve had learned, was an unassuming and intelligent woman. She was very pretty and she seemed kind and pleasant to be around. But that wasn’t what intrigued Steve about her. Happily mated to Thor and heavily pregnant with their first baby, she was also one of only two pack members who’d been infected with lycanthropy rather than born with it. She’d lived with the pack for less than a year, was due to give birth soon, and—unlike Wanda—was choosing to remain in her human form for the event. Steve desperately wished he could talk to her alone and ask her all sorts of questions: why she was there, why she’d stayed and let them infect her and—

“Blegh! not me,” Darcy was proclaiming, telling Jane that she was a fool for choosing to deliver the baby in her human form rather than as a wolf. “You’re nuts. All that pain?” She shook her head. “Mark my words, you’re gonna regret it. And I’ll have to be the one there holding your hand while you’re poppin’ those pups out, letting you squeeze my bones until they’re popping out, too.”

Jane smiled privately and put a hand on her stomach. “I want to hold them when they come. I want them to hear my voice, feel my skin.”

“Nuts,” Darcy reiterated.

“Them?” Steve asked. “You’re having more than one?”

Jane smiled and nodded, while Darcy told him about how most omegas had “litters” rather than single babies; two or three pups at a time was considered normal, expected even.

Steve blanched. “But isn’t that … I mean, aren’t pregnancies like that considered high risk?” He looked over at Jane, slightly concerned. “Shouldn’t you guys have access to a hospital and doctors?” 

“We’ve got Bruce,” Darcy said.

“And it’s different with wolf pups,” Jane added. “The babies develop faster but come out smaller, and sturdier.”

Morbidly, it occurred to Steve to wonder if the babies came out in human form or wolf form. “So … you’re seriously not worried?”

Jane rubbed her belly serenely. “No. I’m excited.” Steve’s disquiet must’ve still been written on his face, however, because she looked him in the eye and tried to assure him, “You have to understand: birthing is much better tolerated amongst wolves. Much more natural. Complications are very rare.”

“Yeah, even in newbies like her,” Darcy teased, kicking over at the side of Jane’s beanbag. “Werewolf groupies.” Jane scoffed and tried to kick back at Darcy’s beanbag, but she failed and gave up due to how encumbered she was by her belly. 

Steve hadn’t missed how close the two women seemed to be. He’d been assuming they were just really good friends all this time, and that assumption persisted right up until the point when Jane asked Darcy when she was “going to stop being such a jerk to Thor and accept his affections already.” Steve squinted, confused for a split second because he thought Thor was the father of Jane’s baby …

“Thor’s been courting Darcy for half a year now,” Jane revealed. “But she’s been playing hard to get.” 

Steve was about to ask if there were two guys named Thor in the pack, until he abruptly remembered that the wolves practiced a form of polygamy, and he was encountering an instance of that right now. “I—oh.” He bit back the words he’d been about to say, looking over at Darcy instead, affronted. “You never mentioned you were with somebody.”

“Well I’m not! … Not technically. It’s only been a little while.” She shrugged and tried to play it off nonchalantly, but Steve could still see the hints of a blush on her face. “And anyway, I mean come on, it’s Thor.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s such a flirt. Big old oaf who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, leaves a couple 'a dead rabbits on your doorstep and thinks he's won your heart."

Steve made a face at the thought of animal carcasses as courting gifts. "What, roses were too old fashioned?" he muttered, eliciting a giggle from Jane and a huff from Darcy.

"I'm just saying: a peacock like Thor can stand to wait. He's probably never had to wait and wonder for longer than a day in his whole mighty life, until now.”

“A peacock whom you know you’re going to say yes to, eventually,” Jane needled, turning back to Steve with a sly look. “She thinks she’s playing hard to get. Thinks Thor’s too full of himself or something.”

“That wolf’s ego is far too big for his knot,” Darcy insisted. “I’m just bringing him down a peg. It’s character development. You should be thanking me.”

“For making my mate less insufferable? Or because I have you to look forward to as a sister wife?”

“Exactly.”

“Mark my words,” Aunt May called from over in the kitchen, waving her rubber spatula in the air. “We’ll be having another run within the next few months for you two.”

Jane and Nakia agreed, while Darcy scoffed and insisted that she intended to string Thor along for far longer than that. 

Meanwhile Steve was still sitting there, reeling at the stark reminder of how differently these people lived, with their tribal mindset and their polygamy and their weirdly primal traditions. He had to face the reality that he’d long been avoiding: That unless a miracle occurred and he suddenly somehow devised a workable escape plan before that very night, he’d soon be a mated omega, exposed to or infected with lycanthropy, and possibly even pregnant. 

The other women in the group talked excitedly about the upcoming night of celebrations, gabbing to Steve of what the traditions were and what he could expect. Everyone would gather for a big, blow-out party around the bonfire, then Steve would be sent off into the woods—naked, in heat, and with a headstart that was purely symbolic in nature. Then, after a short while, Bucky would shift and come after him, a predator tracking his prey in the night. 

Steve shuddered to think how pathetically easy it was going to be for Bucky. He’d sniff Steve out and chase him down, pounce on him, bite him, fuck him and knot him and mate him right out in the middle of the forest. 

“Doesn’t exactly seem fair,” Steve grumbled, “or comfortable.” It was October now, and though they’d travelled much farther south than where they’d started in New York, Steve still didn’t relish the thought of running butt-ass naked through the woods for any extended period of time. “I’ll freeze out there,” he complained. “And why do I have to be naked?”

“Mates usually run in fur,” Darcy said. “The omega starts in skin and shifts once they’re a ways out of sight—to make the chase harder.”

“Yeah, not exactly an option for me.” Like anything he could do would possibly make this a fair chase. He was doomed.

“Don’t worry,” Jane tried to console him, “I was human when I ran, too. Nudity is so normalized here, nobody bats an eye at you, I promise. And there are plenty of dens out in the forest where he can take you. That’s what Thor did for me. He even made it nice beforehand with all sorts of soft furs and stuff.” She smiled and looked down bashfully. “It was actually really sweet.”

“Dens?”

“Oh yeah. Mostly built into like, rocky outcroppings and stuff. There’s tons of places like that out there.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah, I know.” He’d become well-acquainted with the forest’s inhospitable terrain—mostly during his unsuccessful nighttime escape attempts. 

“Those dens are mostly left over, right May? Like when they’d do whole pack runs in the old days?”

In the kitchen, May nodded after chasing Scott off from the icing bowl again. “Yep.”

“The whole pack?”

“Yeah,” Darcy supplied. “Like, not just two people. They’d all do it at once as a group. Any omega who wasn’t mated could run, and then whatever alpha caught you first was who bonded you.”

“What?!”

“This was all a long time ago,” May called over from the kitchen. “Ancient practice.”

“Not that ancient,” Darcy said. “My grandparents did it. ‘Course, back then there were a lot more omegas, and apparently most people went into season at the same time—I know, wild right? That’s why they’d just do it twice a year or whatever, when everybody was in heat. It was like this massive, huge event. Like, everybody looked forward to it and gossiped about it and made bets on it. All the Alphas would try to make secret deals with each other, and the omegas would try to figure out who’d be chasing them, how to get someone onto your scent without being too obvious, stuff like that—Like prom, for werewolves!” She laughed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve said.

“Naw. My grandma told me about it. It was a whole thing back in those days. The alphas who had their sights set on someone would come up with all of these grand courting gestures, go out in the forest ahead of time and make dens to try and herd their favorite omega towards.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “But then things like consent came into fashion, so.”

“Don’t scare the boy,” May scolded. “He’s still new to all thi—Scott! Get your finger out of that bowl before I take it off!” 

“Jesus.” Steve supposed he should at least be grateful that it was only Bucky he had to worry about, rather than an entire pack of horny werewolves. He felt silly about the whole idea of the mating run. As if someone like him stood any real chance at evading Bucky. What a joke. “He’ll probably catch me in the first two minutes,” Steve mourned.

“Naw, you get a thirty-minute head start, remember?” Darcy smirked. “It’ll take him at least three minutes to catch up with you.”

Steve shot her a withering glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t worry,” Nakia said. She was still diligently grinding with the mortar and pestle, and she gestured with it. “This will help disguise your scent. It will make for a better chase.” She smiled like that was something Steve should be excited about, and he did try to at least offer her a friendly nod back, aware that there were undoubtedly some massive cultural differences in play. 

Nakia wasn’t just a werewolf, she was also African—not African-American, mind you, but straight-up African—along with Okoye and M’Baku, and that freaking terrifying guy who’d done the executions at the prison: Killmonger. They all hailed from some tiny, impoverished country that Steve could vaguely remember having learned about in highschool, but he still hadn’t been able to figure out why the heck they were living with Bucky’s pack in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. When he’d asked Bucky and Okoye before, all they would say was that it was some sort of “outreach program.” 

(Not much of an outreach program when the whole pack was running fugitive from the law, though, now was it?)

Steve eyed up the substance that Nakia was grinding in the mortar. “What is it?” he asked dubiously. It smelled earthy and dank, but good; kind of like how fallen leaves smelled in the fall, once they accumulated on the ground and began to rot. If it smelled that strongly to him, what must it smell like to a wolf nose? Steve made a face as he considered it. “Is that … that’s stuff’s not going on me, is it?”

Nakia nodded sagely. “Special Wakandan recipe. Your wolf won’t catch you so easy with this. He will have to hunt.”

“... Great,” Steve said. “Thanks.” Really, he wasn’t so sure if he should bother with using the mystery paste. Would any attempt to evade Bucky at this point make a difference? Or would it just prolong the chase before the inevitable capture? 

Steve wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

Masterlist

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[infernalodie]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 || 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

“𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵“

Inspo: Chase Atlantic - Consume

Pairing: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf!Fem!reader

Summary: She found you in the most unexpected times and she has sworn to protect you at all costs.

Warnings: Torture, gore, and some angst.

Words: 2112

Part Two

The steel walls that lined the hallway were all too familiar to Natasha. They had the familiar residue of doctors, scientists, and soldiers that patrolled up and down the winding halls. It reeked of scents from all different types of colognes and sweats. A true detestable aroma Natasha hated encountering every time she came to this part of the base.

But she did it for you.

Coming to that all too familiar door, red and yellow stripes lining the door. Precautions for what lay awake just on the other side of this small chamber. Looking up at the camera above the door, Natasha stared at the lens for a moment before the door unlocked. It slid open, revealing blackness with the heavy aroma that she missed more than her mortality.

Natasha’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and immediately spotted the small figure curled in the corner of her cage. Body trembling with the scent of salt in the air; tears. Stepping inside, the door slid behind her, plunging her into the black before a single light inside the cage turned on. Revealing her little pup.

You were shaking, trembling from the things the doctors had done to your body. Scars from old and new traumas touching your silk skin. Tears of anguish run down your cheeks, silently praying to a higher power to let you free. But that was Natasha’s guess considering there were whimpered words falling from your lips as you. The space around you was torn to shred with your small mattress no longer resembling a piece of comfort with all its fluff scattered across the cage floor.

It hurt her seeing you like this. You were so, broken. She never wanted you to get caught up in her troubles. If she’d known what would come from ever meeting you, maybe she would’ve left you to die in those woods.

For 10 minutes, Natasha had been inhaling that scent of rare blood. She knew it to be from a Werewolf, but finding where it was had been quite some trouble. None of her other troops had stopped the dog yet, but she believes that from her tracking, she was starting to catch up to the disgusting creature. Its scent only grew stronger the closer she got.

Breaking through the edge of a clearing, she heard the whimpering of a dog. Even with the heavy winds, the scent and sound didn’t get carried with it. She walked through the knee-high grass. A path already being laid out from the Werewolf that had come through with specks of blood weighing down on the blades.

As she got further she finally saw the whimpering dog. Chest rising and falling with quiet cries falling from its lips. She could see the large wound on the Werewolf's stomach. It was from teeth marks and had ripped the flesh at a gruesome depth that barely revealed your organs. One ear was bitten off and the Werewolf’s arms were scratched and bitten to shreds. Even half of its face was torn off, revealing the bone.

She clicked her tongue as she stepped forward, alerting the Werewolf to turn its head towards her with a whimper. Eyes shut with its breaths beginning to become shallow each second. “You dogs never could follow the peace treaty, could you?” She crouched beside the Werewolf, nose scrunching up in disgust of the hairy beast. “Steve never could stay in his kennel, could he?

Laughing, Natasha glanced around and looked back down at you with a grin. “So, now he has you guys hunting in our lands, right? Steal our food?” She asked aloud, beginning to shake her head as she stood up and began to pace. “No. No, no, no. That just won’t work. I don’t know what the hell happened to you, but you just broke our peace treaty. Now, I know you can’t tell Steve with you all fucked up as you are, so I’ll take your head and put it on a post just at the border. That sound all right, Mut?”

When she looked down, she felt her chest tighten at the sight of a bright set of your eyes staring up at her. They have dilated adorably - if she was being honest - they were tired. No fight could be seen in those beautiful eyes and instead of you, the Werewolf reaching out to attack, you curled up. Tail tucked between its legs - everything. It was surrendering in fear.

Natasha didn’t know what to say or do. She was used to Werewolves putting up a little fight in the decades before. They fought valiantly, but at the end of the day, they were merely dogs that she put down. But there was something about this one that made her stop for a moment and just stare curiously at you. She knew there to be someone just beyond this form and she wished to know and see who it may be.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She muttered, crouching down and running a hand through the lush black fur. Natasha’s smiled faintly when she saw your curious bright eyes staring up at her. Body somewhat relaxing under the soft palm of the vampire.

But she saw your eyes constrict and flicker behind her. It’d been too late for her to react, but you roared. Quickly shoving Natasha out of the way and attacking the Werewolf that had been sneaking up on her. Your mouth wrapped around the Werewolf’s throat with your teeth beginning to sink into the flesh.

With you wounded badly, it didn’t take much for the other to use that to their advantage. Claws stab into your stomach and cause you to cry out, letting go and stumbling back onto the ground. Whimpering and crying when you felt the large foot press against your chest. Those all too familiar red eyes staring down at you with amusement.

By some slight chance of savoury, the vampire grabbed the Werewolf by the throat and slammed the creature to the ground. Grabbing its arm and beginning to pull ruthlessly. When the wolf cried and attempted to scratch at Natasha, its arm was restricted by another vampire, Yelena, who wore a grin.

It only took a few seconds later before Natasha tore the Werewolf’s arm off and slapped them with it. She growled, tossing the limb to the side as she pressed her foot to the wolf’s throat. “Pete, nice to see you, kid.”

The painful sound of bones cracking filled the air as Peter’s Werewolf form reanimated to his human. His groans and cries of pain filled the air as he choked on open air. “You are breaking the law, Nat,” the boy spat. “This could start a war.”

Yelena laughed in amusement. “And I am sure you hunting onto our land isn’t, right?”

Natasha hummed, glancing back at you. Finding your form to have reverted to your human with your bare flesh exposed to the night air. Your silk skin was showcased to her in so many places for her to get a taste. But she blinked, clearing her mind of the thoughts and looked to her sister. “Give her your jacket.”

The other seemed reluctant, clearly not used to seeing her sister show care for their opposition, but listed nonetheless. Allowing her sister to keep the boy pinned as she went to your unconscious form and covered it with her jacket.

“Why were you hunting her?” Natasha asked, jutting her head towards you.

Peter huffed and puffed, groaning from the venomous pain from his missing arm. “Our business doesn’t concern you, Nat,” he hissed. “Tribe affairs. Leave her with me and we’ll be off your land.”

Natasha clicked her tongue. “As far as I am concerned, you were practically hunting a pup. Was she putting up any fight, Mut?” She asked as the boy continued to glare up at her. “I think you’ll take her place on that pike quite nicely, don’t you?”

Before the boy could ask what she meant, her hands wrapped around his head and began to pull. Screams of pain filled the air until suddenly the flesh and bone gave way with Natasha dismembering the boy. Blood shooting from the open wound and splashing her face with his disgusting foul blood.

She stood to her feet, holding the head tight in her hands as she turned back to Yelena, who didn’t at all seem bothered by her sister’s actions. “Take her back to the halfway house. Leave her in my room.”

Yelena clenched her jaw, lifting your weightless body in her arms. “You know, Tony isn’t going to like this very much. He already has it out for you from last year.”

Natasha scoffed. “This isn’t a debate he gets to have. Just take her and I’ll take care of her when I get back.”

The blonde nodded before sprinting in the direction of their base. Natasha marched in the direction of Steve’s compound.

Steve’s tired figure was relaxed in his chair by the campfire. The night air brushed past him with small brushes with his eyes closed, still wishing to feel Peggy’s warm touch. A year had passed since he lost her. It’d been a long and unforgiving year for him without her by his side. And there would be many more to come.

But his eyes shot open when he heard the front gates swing open rapidly. Turning his head to find Sam and Bucky running in his direction. Their scents were intermingled with something familiar. Blood.

“Steve, you need to come see this,” Bucky told his best friend, who didn’t wait to ask questions and followed them.

“What is it?” Steve asked curiously.

Neither answered, but stopped good 10 feet outside of the gates and pointed to the hill in the distance. A pike stabbed into the ground with an object on top. Steve’s eyes narrowed and he felt his chest tighten up. Peter Parker. Below it was a piece of paper tied to it and Steve’s anger and resentment mounted to a new level.

‘Stay in your kennel, Muts.’

“Puppy?” The soft voice had you lifting your head slowly. Your glassy vision obscured what was in front of you, but you quickly were able to make out that red hair.

Your face scrunched up as you crawled to the glass and pressed your hand to it. Tears streamed down your cut and bruised face as you stared at your girlfriend pleadingly. “Nat, please, I can’t stay in here. I need to be with you.”

Natasha felt her heart crack with each syllable that fell from your lips. Her eyes beginning to welt up as she sat just opposite of you. Carefully placing her cold hand over yours. So close, but still so far.

It must’ve been 3 months since she was captured and you were locked in this cage. For too long has she been deprived of your blood, specifically. And for far longer, you have been deprived of her touch. The only moments she got with you were these. Which was a sorry excuse of making up for the lost time.

“You’ll be out soon, I promise,” Natasha reassured. “I just need to pay off my debt with Fury, and then I-”

“Stop lying to me!” You screamed, shocking the woman as you sobbed. Hand sliding down from the glass as you curled up in a ball. “I can’t take it anymore, Nat. They’re killing me! I feel her being ripped from inside of me Natasha and I can’t stop them!”

“Feel who, Y/n?” Natasha sat up, leaning closer to the glass. “What do you mean, baby?”

“Luna!” You cried. “They’re sucking me dry and taking her from me! I can’t lose her, please! Oh God, please, help me!”

Her heart was shattering into a million pieces hearing you. Not only because she was seeing her little puppy suffering, but your voice was mixed with Luna’s. Both of you crying out for her, begging for her assistance.

But she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break you out because it would just result in you being killed. And if that happened, she wouldn’t have any reason to live. Truthfully, she wouldn’t be able to live without you. After you marked her, it extended to her and made the idea of space unbearable for both of you.

But it would only have to be for a little longer. Natasha had a plan beginning to be formulated in her head as she had made her way here. She could only hope that Maria knew where she came from and would follow through on her end.

#vampire!natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x werewolf!fem!reader #vampire au #marvel x fem!reader #marvel x fem reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

[bedlamsbard]

I don't want What If to give us more zombies, I want What If to give us the man, the myth, the legend

#reading marvel comics is like 'if you can't write your own werewolf au storebought is fine' #not that I wouldn't do MY werewolf au differently #bedlam watches the mcu #bedlam reads comics

[buckyalpine]

Shapeshifting Bucky

Random thought from the depths of crackfic hell. But imagine an AU where Bucky's time with hydra also included the ability to shape shift on top of his super soldier serum. He can turn into whatever but he really only shifts into a wolf most of the time. Stealthy, huge, strong, agile and an absolute puppy. Werewolf Bucky is the scariest mf to exist. In his wolf form, his fur is nearly jet black, a stark contrast to his beautiful blue eyes. His teeth turn into sharp fangs and his claws could slash through just about anything.

However.

The large furry thing is nothing but a little puppy around you.

Human Bucky struggles to show his affection for you even though he loves you like crazy. He loves touching you but hesitates to do anything. Wolf Bucky has 0 issue hopping onto the sofa he doesn't fit on, attempting to curl up in your lap. He doesn't fit on your lap either and you end up drowning under a heavy mass of dark fur, the chuff he makes as you adjust himself is equivalent to his usual pouty face.

How dare you try and squirm away when he wants pets and cuddles.

And honestly, he's pretty irresistible. Even Tony's found himself petting the soft fur when he walks by, scrunching his face when he realizes who he's petting and cursing to himself immediately after. It's not just Tony either. Most of the Avengers catch themselves mid pet, occasionally shrugging and going back in while shaking their heads at themselves.

That isn't the only thing wolf Bucky enjoys.

“Bucky!” You stare at your boyfriend who was a human last time you left him, now in his wolf form sitting on top of your duffle bag you'd packed for an upcoming mission. There's no way for you to get to it, sitting as its hidden underneath him and it doesn't look like he has any plans on moving. He growls when you try and get closer, daring for you to try and leave when you just got back from a mission earlier in the week.

"Baby, I have to go, you gotta get off" You try to reason with him but he just stares at you with piercing blue eyes. By now you can read his body language and he's not hearing any of it.

Don't think so, stay with me

"C'mon, you know I'll be back soon" You gently scratch the top of his head and he nuzzles into your palm. He tiled his head to the side widening his gaze as best as he could and you couldn't help but giggle at how cute he looked, silently pleading with you.

"Aww, don't give me those puppy eyes Barnes, that's not fair" You coo while he lets out a whine, huffing and resting his head on his front large paws until his ears perk up with a bright idea.

"For fucks sake Bucky!" You laugh incredulously when he picks up the bag with his teeth, shaking the clothes out and burying himself under them, happy to be surrounded by your scent and finding another way to keep you there.

"What’s going on" Steve walked by the room, wondering why you hadn't come to the jet yet, eyes growing wide when he saw what his best friend was up to "What the hell"

"Oh my god" Sam looked over Steve's shoulder, snorting at the way Bucky was now half asleep while you were still in your tac suit but your bag now nearly torn to bits. You shrugged, deciding to give up, looking at the over grown puppy waiting for a belly rub, giving the two men an apologetic smile.

Bucky snuggled happily on top of your clothes, his nose nudging into your hoodie, before closing his eyes, ears twitching contently while your on the phone with Fury, coming up with a lame excuse as to why you couldn't join.

Some other things I imagine for wolf Bucky:

He's the cutest thing ever. Sam nicknamed him Sirius Black and he loves it.

Loves eating meat. Eats a lot in general.

Fiercely loyal

Likes to go on walks

I'm sorry for this, I have a headache, instead of taking an Advil and sleeping, I'm out here giving into my ridiculousness, I'll see myself out.

#shape shifting bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes werewolf au #bucky barnes werewolf #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf bucky #wolf bucky #wolf bucky barnes #bucky barnes shape shifter #bucky barnes au #marvel au #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanmix #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fan fics #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky x you

[darkdemeter]

— TEASER —

“GUARD DOG”

Material is subject to potential changes and edits

A/N: By readers' vote, ACT I: AMBER & BLOOD is the desired segment for the teaser. Still currently writing act II and we're 6.5k words in! No, we've not even reached the middle of the story yet.

Mafia! Wanda Maximoff x (Dark) Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Mafia au — bit of angst — kinda fluff or hurt/comfort? idk... — brief mention of death and grief — use of y/n — I think that's it

Enjoy the excerpt!

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

“Rumlow aims to snuff out the entire Maximoff Family in order to gain territory. And he’s not going to stop until he’s put you in the ground too.” 

How could your words be so hard to hear but equally so right in their conviction? You were trusted by her parents, someone they considered part of the family despite your otherwise humble dismissal that you were just a guard to the family. They considered you equal to their standing. 

And Wanda waved off your warnings as if you didn’t have a clue. Hell, she doesn’t even know half of what you had to endure at the facility. The horrors of your time growing up in that damn place are accounts you’re not overly excited to share with anyone. 

“Wanda,” you say her name to draw her unfocused eyes, to bring her back to you, “you’re all I have to protect now. I swore that I would do everything in my ability, and I will. But promise me, you won’t do anything like that again.”

Your eyes hold her attention, firm and unwavering in the looming silence between you. She feels her heartbeat race a little quicker now as she becomes lost in the certainty of your protection, the caged beast beneath the surface, she nods. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sigh heavily as something finally eases the tension in your shoulders, you let them drop lower and bow your head, face inches from resting in her lap. Her fingers comb the length of your hair, soft and drenched from your quick shower to rinse off the blood that clung to your fur. 

She lets her head dip as well and soak in the scent of your shampoo, a strong smell of pine, something naturistic, compared to the one she used. Not at all the scent she would peg you for with your rough exterior and stoic personality.

But that was all a front. Time and time again she’s seen a side to you that you keep away from others. A tenderness you reserve for her, even your claws tend to be drawn back whenever you’re just in her company. Much like they were now, she marvels at the sight of those sharpened tips that you use as a weapon, as they now reduce back into the nail beds. 

Other than that, all she got to see was your dominating and intimidating stature, tough as iron front, letting all know that she was under your unwavering protection. That you guard her. 

Your head rolls up and your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together in the miniscule gap between your lips, an inch apart you would have considered inappropriate before. But that was when you were unsure and reserved, humbly turning down any sort of praise and keeping your feelings locked away in some dark corner of your heart. 

Before you came to realise you were in love with her. 

You try to calm the rapid increase of your heart rate as if somehow she is still in the clutches of immediate danger, that at any moment she will be taken from you. Her lips, so plump and full and kissable, ghost over yours in silent contemplation. She knows just as well as you that this teeters on a fine line, that this can jeopardise everything between the two of you. 

And nobody could know. A werewolf guard and the heiress to one of the largest and well established criminal empires in the world, if anyone found out, it would cost you both everything. 

What terrifies you is the thought that you could lose Wanda at any moment. The constant what if questions. 

‘What if I were unable to prevent her demise? What if I fail her?’

“I just can’t lose you, Wanda.”

You shake your head at your own words, their meaning so plain and simple: a confession. 

“I promised your parents that I would always protect you.” 

It’s like she could see through the cover up. Yes, you did swear yourself to them that you would protect their children, their daughter, but you also used it as a line of defence. To save face from the awfully timed confession. 

“They’re gone, Y/N. Swear it to me.” 

Her hands cup the shape of your face, the pads of her thumbs soft, delicate against the contours of your features, the tiny and healed scars that littered your face alone, the rest of them were hidden beneath your clothes, how her simple touch calms you and makes you more alive than ever. Her touch is a revival. For once, you’re given the reprieve you long for. To feel trusted wholeheartedly. Loved.

Your hands run up the sides of her thighs until they pause right on the rise of her rear, your fingers grasp firmly and tug her that little bit closer, your forehead pressed to hers and that amber glow shines brightly in your eyes in the dimly lit room. 

“I swear it.” 

Your lips come together as two separate forces once held far apart for too long, now the pull draws you both inwards to the other, magnetic and electrical. Passionate and hungry. You waste no time in sharing one another’s taste as your tongues glide and entangle amidst the heat of your kiss. 

Thank you for reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

#female reader #werewolf reader #gn reader #male reader #dem's updates #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #mafia au #werewolf #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x werewolf reader #teaser

[gingiesworld]

Family Ties (5/?)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @natashasilverfox @the-ox-fan20 @upsidedowndanvers @purpleturtletragedy

18+ MINORS DNI

Nat was dreading the moment to tell Y/N about finding her family, her heart was constricted, especially knowing that the survivors have had to move around to survive. Before she could step inside the compound, Clint stopped her.

"Just think about this Nat." He told her. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"I know what I need to do." She told him as he gave her a sad look. "I can't be selfish with this. With her."

"Ok." He nodded before giving her hand a squeeze. "I'll be here if you need me." She nodded with a small smile before she headed inside, Clint on her heels. The two walked into an empty common room and kitchen, so the two headed towards the training room, watching as Steve and Y/N were racing as Wanda and Vision were training her powers.

"Nat?! Hey!" Y/N beamed as she saw the redhead by the door, running over to her with Steve on her heels.

"Hi, how has it been?" Nat questioned as Y/N looked at Steve and nodded.

"It's been great." Y/N told her, Nat took a shaky breath before she decided to not tell her what she knows. "How was the mission?" She questioned as Nat shook her head.

"It was a bust." She told them. "Just empty bases for someone else to clear."

"We did have an issue with Tony though." Steve informed her. "The altercation caused Y/N to have some sort of panic attack."

"I'm going to kill him." Nat growled as Steve shook his head.

"Wanda was ready to throw him through a wall." He told her as Y/N decided to use some weights.

"She's been training more?" She questioned as he nodded.

"She hasn't sparred, she's afraid to lose control if she does." He informed her. "But she has been running, weights and the bag too."

"What if we try her with some weapons?" Nat suggested as Steve shook his head.

"This isn't a permanent solution Nat." He told her as she nodded.

"Yeah." She sighed as she took a deep breath. "I am going to shower." She told him before she turned away to leave, Clint right by her.

"You never told them." He stated as she shook her head.

"I couldn't." She whispered. "I just, I don't know how to describe this feeling but it hurts when I think of never seeing her again."

"You know, I managed to nab this from the clan." He told her as he held an old book. "While they were too busy talking to you, I went snooping."

"It's a family tree." She stated as she looked through the pages. "There's birthdates and names." She pointed to one of the names. "What does it mean when there isn't a crescent mark beside a name?"

"Human." He told her as he pointed towards Y/N's parents. "Both of Y/N's parents are wolves which means that Y/N and her siblings are the last of the pureblood for this generation."

"So if they don't find any other wolves." She started.

"The ones that will be bred will be unpredictable on a full moon." He told her.

"That can be a huge problem." She told him. "But why would Hydra want Y/N?"

"Her eggs." He told her as the two ran to Fury's office.

"Hydra are trying to breed mutts." She whispered as she moved quickly.

As the days had passed, Fury had a team try to find the remaining Hydra bases as Nat remained silent on the fact that she had found the Selene clan. She listened with a heavy heart as Y/N rambled on about everything she had learned whilst Nat was away. The days soon turned to weeks as Nat kept the secret. Y/N turned to Nat one night as they lay side by side, unable to sleep as her feelings were getting the better of her.

"Nat." She whispered to the woman who lay facing the ceiling. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course." Nat replied as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I have been having these feelings for someone and I don't know what to do." She told her shyly.

"What type of feelings?" Nat questioned as Y/N turned to face her.

"Whenever I'm around her I get this fluttery sensation in my stomach." She started. "My mind runs wild and I can't think straight when I'm around her but I know she would never go for me."

"Well that would be her loss." Nat told her as she turned to meet Y/N's eyes. "Wanda is an idiot."

"It's not Wanda." Y/N told her as she sat up.

"You don't have to lie to me Y/N." Nat moved away from her. "She has been around you more, it's understandable that you like her. She is pretty after all."

"Nat, it isn't Wanda." Y/N gripped her wrist, making her face her once more. "I don't like her, she is more like a best friend." Y/N closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. "I feel all of that all of the times I am with you."

"You're not thinking clearly." Nat moved from her and stood up.

"This is the clearest I have been thinking in years." Y/N approached her. "I can't explain what I truly feel, the connection between us but I like you. A lot." Y/N reached for her hand, the bracelet glowing lightly in the moonlight. "That's. Where did you get that?" Y/N asked her.

"I can explain." Nat started as Y/N stepped away.

"You found them." She whispered as she looked into Nat's eyes. "You found them and never told me."

"I'm sorry." Nat tried as Y/N shook her head, grabbing clothes and packing a small bag. "I can explain." She tried as Y/N grabbed her shoes.

"No." She shook her head. "I have to go. Get out of here."

"Y/N, it's not safe." She tried as Y/N shook her head.

"I am angry, Nat, and when I am angry I can't control myself." She told her as she gripped Nat's arms. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I lost my control around you. I wouldn't live with myself if I hurt you." Nat stepped aside as Y/N moved away from here, watching as she disappeared down the hall. Her bag was still on the floor as Y/N made her way to the training room.

Sitting on the floor, her legs crossed as she worked on her breathing, something she had learned when she was locked up and helpless.

"Are you ok Y/N?" Vision spoke up as he sat beside Y/N, mirroring her position.

"I will be." She told him. "I am just doing something I taught myself when I could feel myself losing control."

"Why were you losing control?" He questioned as Y/N opened her eyes to look at him.

"Nat lied to me." She answered him. "Well, more like she had kept information from me about my family. She found them, my parents and the ones who survived, and she never told me." He just listened as she spoke. "She found them weeks ago and never told me."

"Did she give you a reason?" He questioned as Y/N shook her head.

"I had to leave before she could." Y/N told him. "I will give her a chance to explain, but I couldn't stay in there while I could hurt her."

"Would you like some company while you meditate?" He asked her as she smiled with a small nod.

The next day, Y/N returned to Nat's room, finding her sitting on the bed, biting her nails. Once the door had closed, Nat jumped up from the bed.

"Please just let me explain." She pleaded as Y/N gave her a small smile.

"Ok." She whispered as Nat took Y/N's hand.

"I wanted to tell you. I did but." She took a deep breath. "I think I am falling for you Y/N. I can't explain why it has happened but it has. I am in love with you and it physically hurts me when I am away from you. It's like you're the missing piece of my heart, like I am tied to you and there isn't any shaking the bond." Y/N smiled as she cupped Nat's face, looking into her green eyes.

"I guess I can stay here." Y/N whispered as Nat shook her head no.

"Your family needs you Y/N." She told her, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

"You are my family too Nat." She told her as Nat shook her head.

"We can find each other again." Nat told her. "If it's meant to be, we will be. Just not yet."

"Can I kiss you?" Y/N whispered as Nat nodded, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss, a kiss that sealed their destiny.

#natasha romanoff sad #natasha romanoff au #natasha marvel #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x werewolf fem reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #vision

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐣𝐚𝐡

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon, corruption, and possible untagged 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 a stranger at your door, a visitor you can't make leave. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Yelena Belova

Note: I enjoyed this very much. I hope you do too.

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The bluster of winter wails outside the walls. The whistling wakes you, your eyes snapping open but the rest of you rousing slowly. Your muscles ache with the chill creeping up from the floorboards and through the aged plaster of the house. The smell of frost drifts in around the loose panes of the window, deterring you from emerging from the warmth of quilt and flannel.

At last, you find the strength to get up. You make the bed before you find your housecoat and tuck your feet into a pair of fleece-lined slippers. The house creaks around you as you open the door on whiny hinges. The single-floor holds several stories of memories; your own and others’.

You check the thermostat. It shouldn’t be so cold. You swear you can see your own breath. You shiver and rub your hands together as you enter the kitchen. You put the kettle on the burner and light it. You linger for a moment to bask in the warmth of the low flame of the gas stove.

You leave the kitchen, the click of the burner sticking in your head. You enter the back entryway of the house and pull open the old splintering door to the basement. The stares are steep and swathed in darkness, the wraiths of your childhood fears waiting at the bottom. 

You flip on the light switch and take your first step down the groaning wooden stairs. Each foot down feels like a descent into hell. You get to the bottom, even colder as no warmth can be found in the cement floors or painted brick walls. The old dryer and washer loom, the only sentinels in the cobwebbed space.

In the corner stands the rusted old furnace. You near with trepidation, shaking as you see the fog of your own breath waft out from your nose. The meter is limp and lifeless. As you near, you realise the old utility is silent.

You’ve had this problem before, it’s nothing new, just like everything else in this house. You go to the cabinet above the washer and dryer and take out the box of matches, checking to make sure they haven’t been dampened by their time in the mildewed basement. You return to the furnace and get down on your knees, close to the back. 

There you reach for the gas valve and give it a twist. You press down the red button and strike the match, putting it to the pilot light. You let go of the button and stand to turn the furnace back on. You hear the old barrel-like utility begin to hum.

You head back upstairs, the racket of the furnace building behind you, muffled as you shut the door behind you. As the handle clicks into place, you hear something closer, something louder. You pause and listen, hand resting on the cold metal knob. You fear it comes from where you just were but when it comes again, you realise the noise is from outside.

Before chasing your curiosity, you go back to the kitchen as you hear the kettle begin to quake. You move it off the burner before it can whistle and twist off the dial, the flame wilting to nothing. You shuffle into the back hall and near the back door, listening to the wind still whistling.

You hesitate to open the door, even as you’re certain it’s nothing. You look over at the old cross hung over the rack where you keep split logs for the fireplace. You slide back the lock and twist the handle, easing the swollen door from the frame.

As you pull the door inward, a weight pushes it against you. You step back and let it fall open completely, something collapsing by your feet. The shock blows over you with the winter gale, blustering in through the door. There, her head between your feet, is a woman smeared in dirt and something red. 

Her blond hair is filthy with dry mud and a stick is caught in a tangle. There are scratches on her face and neck, her clothing barely in tack as it exposed her raw and bloodied skin. You stare, uncertain of what to do. 

Any sane person would shove her back out in the cold and lock their door. But any decent person wouldn’t leave anyone out in that condition. You know her face, not as well as her reputation, but you do not doubt your eyes. 

You look out over the expanse of snow littered across the backyard. A touch of yellowed grass peeks through still as the winter has not yet made its full advance. It feels desolate and frigid even as you spy the top of the next house just above your fence. You can’t help but wonder how she ended up back there.

You bend, unsure of how to approach the woman. You fear waking her as much as you worry she may not be able to wake. You slip your hands under her shoulders, turning her flat and hooking your arms under hers. 

You haul her past the doorway, dragging her across the rough floorboards. You bend her legs as you go to close the door and stand facing it for just a moment as you process reality. You step back and over the woman, leaving her in the hallway as you try to decide what to do with her next.

It is just as Father Harvey read from the pages, ‘If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?’

You’re not sure you’ll be able to maneuver her further on your own, and you’re just as nervous of going near her again. The thought of a call to the cops crosses your mind but you know it’s futile when it comes to those ones.

You take the kettle off the stove and pull out a mug and some tea to steep. You ponder a second cup but it would probably be cold before she comes to. If she does.

You sit at the table, a glimpse of her dirty blonde hair visible through the doorway. You turn your attention to the window instead as you watch the snow start to fall. You could try to find her brothers or whoever they are. The other ones you don’t speak to.

As you contemplate your fate and the strange woman, you blow over your tea and take your first sip. A small comfort amid a very uncomfortable situation. You empty half the mug before setting it down, your stomach churning with anxiety.

You put your head in your hand and close your eyes. It could be a nightmare. You might wake up and find the house as you left it the night before.  You cradle your forehead, keeping your other hand against the warmth of your mug. You hear the vents start, a gush of heat blowing in from under the table as the house thrums.

You hear the clatter of the furnace kicking up. You look up to the thermostat but something else catches your eyes. The figure standing off-kilter in the doorway, watching you as you gape back in shock. Realising it was not the furnace making so much noise, but her.

She doesn’t say a word, instead letting her lips slant and dragging a limp leg over to the stove. Without looking back, she opens a cupboard and takes down a cup of her own, perusing the other wares within. She shuts it with a snap and scoffs, pushing her head back as she rubs her neck.

“Do you have any damn coffee in this shit hole?” She sneers as she drops her hand.

You blink dumbly, put off by her demanding tone and the presumption of her search through your cupboards. As she opens another, you get up and near her, pulling over the canister of coffee against the wall. You hold it up but she doesn’t take it.

You glance over at her bloodied, broken nails. You’re too polite, honestly too afraid, to ask what’s happened to her. Whatever it was, it hardly seems to faze her.

You turn to load the coffee machine, the small single serve you rarely use yourself. Not since the woman across the street disappeared. She used to come now and again for coffee when her husband worked. You always prayed for her and her husband, he wasn’t a nice man.

You shut the lid and tap the brew button. Your mind wanders to the burnt foundation of the neighbour’s house. They found his body but not hers. You hope she was still out there, somewhere, alive. More than a month though and even your faith threatens to falter.

The machine’s grind quiets and you back up, startled by the woman’s reach as she drags the mug off the drip tray. You press yourself to the adjacent counter and look at her. You slide open a drawer and grab a teaspoon, offering it to her.

“I have sugar–”

“Black is fine,” her eyes flash at the silver utensil as she lifts the cup. Her greenish bluish irises carry a tint of yellow, “put that away.”

Her harsh snap surprises you. You put the spoon back and close the drawer. She staggers back, balancing the cup over her uneven gait. She puts her coffee down before dropping into a chair, barely keeping it from turning over under her.

“Close these fucking curtains,” she demands as he bends her head and shields her eyes, “the sun’s always a bitch after the moon.”

Her words don’t make much sense. You obey and pull shut the curtains above the sink, closing out the winter sun. There’s no reason she should be so affected, the sun is trapped behind a pillow of cold clouds.

“Good girl,” she praises and takes a loud slurp. 

You spin to face her, crossing your arms as you watch her. Your hand wanders up to your throat but finds only the nook of your collar bone. You’ve left your necklace in your jewellery box. A habit you’ve rarely broken.

‘Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you.’

You remind yourself of the passage as wariness nips at your mind. You do not know this woman, you only know what is said of her. And as the Lord bids, one may not judge without first first accepting judgment themselves.

“What happened to you?” You finally muster the question from the maelstrom of fear and shock.

Her thick brows rise and she tilts her head. She sits sideways in the chair and leans back to look down at herself. As she takes in the shredded flannel hanging from her figure, she lifts her hand to touch the twigs caught in her hair. She laughs, greatly amused as she smothers it with a swig of coffee.

She pops her lips and wipes them with her filthy hand, “well, looks like I had a good night.”

She smiles, her teeth eerily long and white. The expression fills you with unease. You clasp your hands together over your stomach.

“Well, I could run you a bath and you could take some of my clothes. I have a bag I was going to donate at the church–”

“Oh, you are a good girl,” she winks, “you go to church?”

You nod, “every Sunday. It’s an open service.”

“Ha,” she guffaws, “I appreciate the invitation but it isn’t for me. I like the Catholic girls more than the Catholic rites.”

You slowly part from the edge of the counter. She is crass in a way that makes you uncomfortable, in the same way as the drunken men who come out of the old bar on Tilbury. She has no shame or it seems, sense. She is as unbothered by her torn flesh as she is by her similarly shorn clothing.

“I’ll get the tub going. The pipes will take time to heat up–”

“Ah ah,” she tuts as you turn on your heel, “what kind of good Christian does not offer a name?”

You face her again. You didn’t realise. You didn’t think to give it, somehow, it felt like giving more than just that. As if you were handing over something precious. But she is here in your home and the Lord treasures gracious hosts. So you say your name, feeling it leave your tongue like a vow.

“Beautiful,” she praises, “I am Yelena, or whatever you like me to be.”

You have nothing to say to her last remark. You leave her to your coffee and forget about your tea. You’re certain it’s already cold as ice. You head down the hallway and let yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light as you enter and cross the small patchwork of tile to the tub.

You pull back the curtain and bend over the brim to twist the four-pronged faucets. The water spills out and you splash it up the porcelain to rinse it off, turning off the flow to let it drain before starting it again. You put the stopper in place and push yourself straight.

You take a deep breath as you leave the building humidity in the bathroom and stop short as you find the woman, Yelena, just outside. She smirks at the cross stitch in its round frame, reaching to touch the embroidery; Rejoice in the Lord, the threaded cursive reads with the wreath of flowers.

“Quaint,” she muses as her eyes list over in your direction, “your husband must love you. Blessed be the meek and all that.”

You shake your head and look down at your left hand. If your mother was still around, she’d be certain to loudly proclaim your lack of suitors. The woman hums, taking the hint. She surprises you as she claps her hand on your arm.

“Who needs em? Men,” she scoffs, “trust me, they are…” she pauses, considering her next words carefully, “useless.”

She releases you and you step aside, pointing her into the bathroom. She enters, limping still. You notice how her foot drags, her leg entirely limp. You step forward, lingering at the threshold.

“The towel is clean,” you instruct, “and the hot water will probably run out by the halfway mark–” you voice catches as she strips away the remnants of her shirt. Shamelessly, she pulls down the strap of her bra, the other one snapped, and bares her chest, “oh, but uh, I’ll leave you–”

She snickers, “I am not ashamed of how the Lord made me, feel free to admire his work.”

You gasp and latch onto the doorknob. You swallow and quickly swing the door shut, clinging to it as you blink at the peeling paint. You look down at your hand, feeling as though you can’t let go. You see her body still, her pert tits and knowing smile stir your stomach cloyingly. A sinful sensation that tingles down your spine.

You snatch your hand back and nearly stumble into the wall. You must pray and cleanse yourself of these feelings. Let the Lord forgive you.

🌔

You dig out a pair of jeans and a wool sweater from the box, adding a pair of socks and underwear to the stack before scooping it up. You hug the clothing as you head down the hall, listening to the stir of water through the door. 

You clear your throat and place the pile on the square table set against the wall. You lean in, voice catching as you try to make the words come out. You feel as if you’re being choked.

“There are clothes out here for you,” you call through at last.

“Mm,” you can hear her sultry hum, “thank you, sweet one.”

You back away, retracting as if scalded. You shudder and continue on to the kitchen. You take the mugs from the table and go to the sink to wash them. The house is still cold though the furnace has softened the nip in the air.

You dry off both cups and put them back in the cupboard. You empty out the filter in the coffee machine and push the canister of grinds back against the wall. Restlessly, you pace, contemplating what comes next. It is unkind to ask a guest to leave but you must. There’s something festering about this woman being in your home.

You should’ve left her in the cold. The thought brings you to a halt and you’re mortified by your own cruelty. You shake your head and trace a cross through the air with your fingers; forgive me, lord.

You go into the living room and sit on the couch, teetering on the edge as you lean forward, elbows on your knees and hands clamped together. You press your lips to your knuckles and close your eyes. 

A silty fatigue grits under your eyelids. You are suddenly very tired. You’re still hoping this is just a dream.

“Ah, there you are,” Yelena’s voice brings your head up, your head swelling dizzily.

You look over your shoulder as she struts across the room. She wears only the wool sweater, her legs naked as the hem hovers tenuously just below her pelvis. You gulp as you watch her, stunned by her speedy and complete recovery.

The cuts across her neck and face are gone, her legs show no blemish or scar, and she walks unimpeded. Her blond hair is damp but shiny, and her cheeks are rosy and full. You’ve never seen anyone look so enthralling.

“I feel much better, darling,” she declares as she combs her fingers through her hair, the sweater rising up her thighs, “oh, but you look less than… what is the matter, sweet one?”

“N-nothing,” you go to stand but she’s quick to meet you, blocking you as she stands before you, putting a hand out to keep you at bay, “I…” you gulp, your mouth dry and pasty, “I was going to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

She looks down at you and turns her hand to cradle your chin, “I am ravenous.”

You stare up at her, hypnotised by the heat of her touch and the yellow flecks seeming to glow in her irises. She slips her hand down to your neck and leans her weight into you, urging you to sit back. You let her, trembling as your body surrenders against your will.

She brings herself down to her knees, moving to insert herself between hers. Her hand crawls down and she hisses as she clutches the silver cross hung around your neck. He yanks and snaps the chain, bringing a yelp from your lips. She flings it away and shows how the pendant left its shape burnt into her palm. You gape as her skin slowly fades back to normal.

“What…” you breathe.

“Shhh,” she presses her finger to your lips, “I will not hurt you. The moon has gone and my hunger has changed.”

Your eyes round as you squirm. Lord, give me strength. 

Her hand falls again and she gropes you through the cotton of your sweatshirt. You murmur as she squeezes and you feel it pluck deep down inside of you. You look down at her hand as she fondles you, her other creeping up to raise the bottom of your shirt.

Your mind screams for you to stop her. You know you should, you know what she’s doing is wrong, but you can’t. It’s as if your body is no longer your own. As if she’s possessed you with her touch alone.

She rolls your shirt above your chest, peeling down the cubs of your wireless bra as she leans forward. A glaze of shock paralyses you as you watch her press her lips to the curve of your tit. He kisses the flesh, teasing it with her tongue, then her teeth, nipping so you squeak.

“Delicious,” she purrs, as her thumb twirls around your hardened nipple.

Your hands ball against the cushion, the most you can muster as your muscles lock up. She keeps one hand on your chest as she trails down your stomach with her mouth. She dotes on your soft belly, her other hand edging around as she guides your hips forward. Her fingers curl around the top of your pants.

Her other hand brushes around your ribs and down your back. She grips the elastic of your pants, guiding them down, tugging them under your ass as she jolts your body. You groan as she pulls both underwear and pants down your thighs in a single swoop. 

A crack forms in your trance and you bring your hands together to shield your nakedness. You hid your cunt behind as she strips the fabric past your ankles. She tuts and lays a kiss along your calf. She makes a path up to your knee, then switches legs, kissing along your quivering thigh.

“Don’t be shy,” she growls, “the lord gives us all a purpose. He would not make anything so beautiful if he did not mean it to be admired.”

She leans back and reaches behind her hand. She tugs the sweater up over her head, disposing it on the floor as she presents herself to you. Naked and built like a statue, muscle hewn perfectly.

She pulls your hands away from your pelvis and leers between your legs. She pushes your hands down beside you and drags her own down your thighs. She lifts your legs, one at a time, opening you to her.

She bends as you shake, detached from your mortal shell as he bows her head over your lap. She reaches up grazing over your chest and to your neck. She stretches her hand across your throat and holds you in place as she pokes her cool tongue against your slick heat.

You’re just as surprised at the mingling of hot and cold as you are by your own arousal. She laps you up eagerly as your body responds, falling apart in an instant. You moan through your tight throat, wrapping your fingers around her wrist as you drop your head back. Your voice gristles out as you tilt your hips in welcome.

The scald of your repentance fades into that of your delight. Her tongue delves between your folds, dissembling you with each slow swipe, each swirl around your tender bud. Her fingertips tickle along your thigh, edging the crease of your pelvis and dipping down to your entrance. She prods, wiggling just inside as she eases into you little by little.

You gasp and gulp, rocking your hips in time with her. You can hear how much you want her, you can feel it flooding from you, dripping down her hand and spreading on her tongue. She buries her face against you as she devours you, urging you on as she builds her pace, jamming her fingers deeper and deeper.

You reach down without thinking and latch onto her head. You push her down, smothering her face in your cunt as you rut against her face. You feel the swell crest and your body quakes as the tension shatters and sweeps over you. Your orgasm gushes out around her fingers as your voice fizzles to a creaky whine.

She feels along your hand, carefully drawing it away as she raises her head. Her chin drips with your juices as she snickers, baring her wolfish teeth. Her eyes glimmer as she slips her fingers out of you. You squirm with the sudden emptiness.

She grabs the backs of your calves suddenly and stands, pulling you so you slip down, your shoulders on the cushion. She grips the front of your bunched shirt and hauls you onto the floor, bringing you to your knees. She lifts her leg over your shoulder, planting her foot on the couch behind you.

She pushes your face into her pelvis and you open your mouth. You taste her, tilting your head back as she stains your tongue with her desire. Your eyes roll back as she holds you there, her hips rolling as she grips a fistful of your hair.

“Kneel in worship of me, sweet one,” she cradles the back of your head as she brings you closer, “leave your false god behind.”

All doubt, all dread, dwindles away as you’re swallowed by the heat of temptation. The strength of your spirit succumbs to the weakness of your flesh. Forgive me, lord, oh please, forgive me for how sweet it is.

#yelena belova #dark yelena belova #dark!yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #illuminate #au #werewolf au #avengers #mcu #marvel #black widow

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 12

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: okay soooo many. Violence, quite a bit of it actually, and then later it gets so nasty; oral (m & f receiving), double v penetration, mad dirty talk, praise kink goin craaaazy, double creampie, dumbification kind of- I think that's all of them but idk they fuck and it's filthy basically

Genre: maybe a little angst i think, lots of smut, even more fluff

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

"Did you find her?" Steve asks.

"Fucking hell." She breathes out.

"What? What does that mean?" Steve frowns.

"How quickly can your people get ready to move because we need to go now."

"They're ready. Been on standby for your go ahead all night." Steve says.

"Good. This is the go ahead. I know where she is." Wanda says.

~*~*~

A glance at the clock tells you it's after nine. The clock is analog and there are no windows on this floor so while you're pretty sure it's morning, there's a chance it's been a whole day and it's night again. You sit cross legged on the bed, facing the clear wall, trying to come up with a plan of action. Your eyes narrow when you notice two shadows on the floor. People are walking this way. You gasp when you realize who one of them is and walk over to the glass wall.

"Bruce!" You yell banging on the plexiglass to make sure you get his attention. He jumps and turns to you, eyes the size of saucers when he sees you.

"Y/n? Oh my God." Bruce walks right up to the glass.

"What did you do?!" You ask.z

"Me? I- I had nothing to do with this I swear. I didn't know you were here! I swear." He shakes his head frantically.

"There were six people that knew what I was Bruce SIX and you were the first to find out. You kept a file on me like I was one of your little projects! How much do you wanna bet that stupid file is how I got here in the first place?"

"All I ever did was run a blood test and jot down some observations." He says defensively.

"All you ever did was run a blood test? On your girlfriend. Without her permission! Do you realize how not okay that is?!"

"I'm sorry! Look, I never wanted anything to happen to you. I will- find out who's responsible for this and get you out of here I swear."

"If you plan to help you'd better do it quickly because I can guarantee hell will be on your doorstep soon." You say.

"What's your tag?" Bruce asks you.

"Excuse me?"

"The uh- identification they gave you. Instead of your name. He would've given you an identification number, we use them for, ya know." Bruce's words trail off.

"Say it Bruce. Don't be shy. This is your work. I'm an experiment here."

"Look did he tell you your tag or not?"

"89273. I think." You say.

"You think? You need to be sure."

"I heard it once Bruce. Excuse me if I haven't committed to fucking memory yet." You roll your eyes.

"Y/n." He sighs.

"That's it. I'm sure." You nod.

"I need the letters."

"What?"

"The letters at the beginning. That's the part that makes it unique.  Everyone here uses a different letter combination to keep our work organized. It'll help me figure it out."

"AZM." You say. Bruce mutters something that you can't exactly hear through the glass, but his face gives him away anyhow. "What is it? Why did you just get all pale?" You ask him.

"Nothing! Just- hang tight. I will- figure this out and get you out of here."

"Not like I can go anywhere in the meantime." You mutter. "Bruce!" You call before he can get far. He runs back over to your cell.

"Yes?"

"If I find out you're more involved in this than you are letting on, I will rip you to shreds in every sense of the word." You say. Bruce nods and dashes off. A few minutes later the camera in the back corner pops out from the wall and the whirring of its mechanics makes you turn around to face it.

"Good morning subject AZM89273." The same voice from before rings through the room. So, it is morning, just like you thought.

"You know, that arbitrary combination of letters and numbers is so many more syllables than just saying my name. I'm sure this is supposed to be some sort of display of your power in this situation but it really just seems like you're giving yourself more work." You say.

"That's funny I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter."

"Yes well if we all stuck to doing explicitly what was asked of us I wouldn't be here so, we can't always have it our way now can we?" You roll your eyes.

"We will begin round two of testing in one hour and fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting! Not like I can go anywhere on my own." You say with a lazy shrug. The camera disappears back behind its panel in the wall and you're once again left with your own thoughts and plans.

~*~*~

"Wanda where exactly are we?" Bucky asks when the trio pulls up to the address she gave. She'd rushed them into action when she located you, giving an address to the driver with a group of their, Wanda calls them minions, following in other vehicles.

"Bruce's lab." She says walking towards the door quickly.

"Bruce as in y/n's ex Bruce?" Steve places a hand on her shoulder.

"Wanda hang on we don't have a plan." Bucky says.

"Yes as in y/n's ex. And the plan is to get in there, get her out, and maybe break a neck or two in the process." Wanda says.

"You didn't want to mention in advance that y/n's ex was responsible for this?" Steve asks.

"It makes sense." Bucky scoffs.

"I didn't say he was responsible because I don't know if he is. As far as I know he's not the only person that works here. It could be someone else that uses the space." Wanda says.

"Wilson." Steve looks over his shoulder to call towards the group that's waiting for instructions. Sam walks over to the three of them quickly.

"What's the plan?" He asks.

"Surround the building and find every entrance. I want the whole place covered. The primary goal is extraction. If you find y/n, she is your top priority other than that nobody gets in or out of this lab until she's safe and the bastards who did this are in front of me and Bucky is that understood?" Steve says.

"Crystal clear." Sam nods.

"No, wait. I will prioritize finding y/n. Your guys should focus on locking the place down so the culprit doesn't make a run for it." Wanda says. Bucky and Steve exchange a look and a slight nod.

"Fine. Focus on keeping everyone inside. If you find y/n in the process she still takes precedents but in the meanwhile don't let anyone get out of there until we've got who we need." Bucky says.

"On it." Sam returns to the group and starts giving out directions while Wanda stays with Steve and Bucky to discuss their own strategy.

~*~*~

Fifteen minutes to go before they move you again. Time drags so slowly in this room of blank white walls. Assuming they sedate you again, you'll have to wait until they're wheeling you back to this room to make a break for it. If you're lucky like last time, you'll wake up before they make it here and you should have no problem getting by a couple of scientists.

CODE BLACK; INTRUDER ALERT; INITIATING LOCKDOWN

The blaring alarm and sudden flashing red lights coax you quickly to your feet. Perhaps you should be alarmed by the sudden alert and angry red flashes considering you're trapped in a room, but you'd bet money the security breach in question is here for you and you're the only person whose safety is guaranteed.

"Uh- Don't know if anyone is listening to me or not but in case you are, I'm pretty sure that warning code of yours, means your time is up and you should start running. Or don't, it'll make everyone's life easier. You can't really escape this." You say loud enough that you should be heard even over the repetitive warning.

"Y/n!" You spin around at the sudden call of your name. Wanda's magicked a hole in the plexiglass wall of your cell.

"Wanda? Wait a second did you bring the calvary here?" You ask stepping through the hole into the hall with her.

"You sent me an SOS did you expect me to do nothing with it? Of course I did, you have the mob basically at your disposal." She says hugging you tightly.

"I know, I just didn't think you'd be here with them." You say with a small chuckle.

"Oh please they're just the muscle on this mission. I'm the one that found you." She scoffs. "Come on, your boyfriends went looking for the culprit. I'm sure they're waiting for you." She says draping her arm across your shoulders. The two of you head further into the facility, every so often passing frantic scientists being corralled by Steve and Bucky's men.

"I don't think all of these people were involved in this ya know." You say to Wanda.

"I'm sure they weren't but Steve and Bucky said no one's allowed out until they find the right people. Better safe than sorry." She shrugs.

"Yeah I guess so. There were three guys that kidnapped me, I didn't hear them all talk so assuming none of them are the guy orchestrating this there could be anywhere from 4 to 7 people involved, based on who I've seen or interacted with. There could be others of course. There have been some periods of unconsciousness on my end so-" You rattle off.

"Don't worry. I'm sure between your boyfriends and their minions they'll find out the exact number and their identities in no time." Wanda says. Eventually, you find Bucky and Steve, their backs are to you and Bucky's got someone pushed up against the wall. You rush up to them when you realize it's Bruce they're shaking down.

"Bruce." You say. Steve and Bucky turn to you and Steve has you in his arms not a second later. He's mumbling about you being okay and blaming himself and Bucky for this all happening (somehow), between kisses atop your head.

"Thank God you found her Wanda." Bucky says. As much as he wants to hug you he's not about to let Bruce go.

"Steve I'm alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, you can let me go." You mumble into his chest. It takes a few seconds before he unwinds his arms.

"Are you hurt? Do you need anything? I am so sorry princess. This should never have happened. I-"

"I'm okay Stevie. As far as I know all my parts and pieces are exactly where they're meant to be. You can stop doting and blaming yourself. That doesn't even make any sense." You say.

"We're just- so relieved to see you." Steve sighs.

"Right back at you." You say turning your attention to Bruce. "Are you going to tell me who's responsible for this Bruce, because I think you've known since you saw me a few hours ago and I couldn't push it then but now, your life is in- technically in his hands but whatever you tell me will determine if I let him kill you or not so choose your next words very carefully." You say.

"Wait a second it's not Bruce that locked you up?" Bucky glares at him.

"Not directly, I don't think so but I have a strong feeling he knows who did." You say.

"Y/n, please." Bruce chokes out.

"I need a name, Bruce. A name." You say.

"Dr. Gekko. Colin Gekko." Bruce relents.

"Describe him." You say.

"Brown hair, green eyes, tall and pale. He's got a birthmark on his neck." Bruce rushes the description out breathlessly.

"Drop him Bucky." You say. Bucky lets Bruce go and Bruce hunches over struggling to catch his breath. Steve is already on the phone before you can say anything.

"Clint, we need to find a Colin Gekko. Brown hair, birthmark on his neck, tall and pale with green eyes. If you can find a photo- yes, make sure everyone knows. He is the target." Steve says into his cell phone.

"We should start looking too." Wanda tells you. You nod in agreement.

"Y/n, wait." Bruce says before you've even started to walk away. He holds out a flash drive to you that you look at with confusion. "It's everything we have, on you. What Colin was doing, my- initial file. I've wiped them all from our servers but... I thought you'd wanna have the information." He explains. You take the thumb drive from him.

"Thanks." You mutter.

"I was so looking forward to finally having a reason to break his bones." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"You can break Colin's bones when we find him." You say. "I bet he's still in whatever observation room he was using to watch me."

"End of the hall." Bruce yells after you all. Following his suggestion, the four of you head down the hall towards the observation room. Bucky kicks the door in before you even try to open it. Chances are this Colin guy tried to barricade himself in there anyway. Sure enough, when the door flies off its hinges one scrawny looking green eyed man, birthmark on his neck and all, turns to look at you all with fear on his face. Steve grabs him before he can make a move, holding his arms behind his back.

"So you're the one behind all of this." You cross your arms.

"I should rip your head off your shoulders." Bucky glares. You hold up a hand to stop him from moving towards the cowering scientist.

"I want an explanation." You say.

"You want an explanation? You broke his heart and one of the greatest scientists I've ever known couldn't do his work." Colin grits out.

"So- Bruce, put you up to this?" Wanda frowns.

"No." He scoffs.

"Sorry, let me see if I can piece this together. My boyfriend, lies to me for months, so I break up with him, well within my rights and you kidnap me to run experiments in hopes that you'll- what? Fix him? Get brownie points? Maybe a promotion?" You ask.

"I've been here for years, always flying under the radar, I thought for sure you, the bitch who ruined him-" he stops to groan when Steve tightens his hold on him in response to his vulgarity towards you.

"Watch your mouth." Steve warns shoving Colin to his knees.

"I deserve to be a head scientist here." Colin says.

"Aw, well now you'll be a dead scientist. Broke the code of ethics and all, only to wind up with nothing." You shrug. "Not even a pat on the back from your 'so-called' idol who, by the way, totally gave you away for us to find you."

"Wait I- I don't wanna die." He shakes his head.

"Oh. Maybe you should've thought about that before you kidnapped me. Word of advice, don't target someone with mob ties if you like living."

"You know, if you keep him alive you could teach him a lesson he won't forget." Bucky mutters quietly. You look over your shoulder at him and consider his suggestion.

"Do you have a knife?" You ask.

"Yes." Bucky pulls out a blade and hands it to you immediately.

"Wait a second what do you need a knife for?" Steve asks. You squat in front of Colin and grab his wrist, placing his hand flat on the ground between you. With the knife in hand, you start to sing as you jab the knife between the gaps in his fingers.

"You have all your fingers. The knife goes chop chop chop, and since you were not careful, I'm gonna take some off." You slam the knife down severing the two middle fingers on his right hand and the scream he lets out his piercing. Steve's eyes look like they're about to fall out of their sockets and Bucky's currently trying hard not to let it show how much he enjoyed watching you do that.

"Y/n!" Wanda gasps.

"What?! He kidnapped me! I coulda killed him, taking two fingers is letting him off very easy!" You say.

"Honestly the little song was a cute touch. Clever." She nods.

"Right?! Thought it'd make it a little more fun." You link your arm through hers turning to leave Colin wailing on the floor.

"Hang on." Bucky says. He walks over to Colin and grabs him by the top of his head, pulling him up onto his knees. Bucky shoves his thumb into one of Colin's eyes, sending him into another screaming fit. "Leave town. Because if we ever see you again. I'll take the other eye." Bucky says menacingly, letting go of his hair. Colin crumples to the ground again as Bucky cleans his finger with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's go." Bucky says, a hand on your back guiding you out of the room and subsequently Wanda, while Steve walks behind you, discussing something with Sam.

"So what happens now?" Wanda asks.

"We take you home." Steve says.

"I meant with Colin." She frowns.

"He'll probably get out of town thanks to Bucky's threat."

"How did you guys find me anyway?"

"Wanda came to us." Bucky says.

"She interrupted a meeting and nearly got shot in the process." Steve says.

"I mean, I didn't know they were in a meeting until I got there. Besides, I was too busy being angry about you getting kidnapped despite their insistence on security watching you." Wanda says.

"Well I'm safe now." You shrug.

"We want you to see our medic." Bucky says.

"What?"

"We don't know what that sick bastard could have done to you and we think it would be best to have you looked over just in case." Steve explains.

"Alright. Fine, but you stay the whole time." You say.

"Deal." He nods. "Wanda we'll drop you at your apartment first and bring y/n back later, okay?" Steve says.

"Sure whatever." She shrugs. The rest of the drive to Wanda's apartment is quiet, Wanda hugs you tightly before getting out once you arrive. After dropping her off, the three of you head to Bucky and Steve's penthouse apartment where the medic is already waiting for you apparently. She's quick, but thorough in her examination, checking superficial things like your reflexes and vision asking several questions, taking samples of your blood, and whatnot. When she leaves, you let out a deep breath finally feeling comfortable.

"How're you doing princess?" Steve asks sitting beside you to rub his hand in circles on your back. Bucky sits on your other side with a hand on your knee comfortingly.

"I'm... alright- it's just been, a day- or a couple of days. I don't really know how long it's been actually." You frown.

"It was only one night. Wanda was up til morning trying to find you and we headed out as soon as she got you." Steve explains.

"Oh- well that explains why it's only after 1 pm." You mutter.

"This- may not be the best time to say this but I'd like it to be known that the little knife game you played with that guy, was very... impressive." Bucky says.

"Thank you, although I think it's fine to say that now because it like just happened." You chuckle.

"Seriously Buck?!" Steve rolls his eyes.

"What?!" Bucky says.

"Am I missing something?" You look between the two of them.

"Don't 'what' me!" Steve scoffs.

"Oh come on, there's nothing wrong with what I said you're the one being weird about it!" Bucky says.

"Okay, definitely missing something." You nod.

"I'm being weird about it?! Because I know what you meant by that! Don't play dumb."

"Hello!" You shout and they both look at you immediately.

"Yes princess?" Steve says at the same time Bucky says,

"Yes sunshine?"

"Hi, can you let me in on this weird psychic conversation you're having?" You ask.

"If Bucky was 'impressed' with your little knife trick it was not because of this head up here." Steve says tapping his fingers on his temple.

"What-?" You frown.

"He thinks it was hot." He rolls his eyes.

"Ohhh! You could've just said that. Either of you." You laugh.

"You were just kidnapped, now is not the time to be thinking with our- lower appendage." Steve frowns.

"Come on pal you're telling me it didn't stir something in you seeing her do that?" Bucky asks, grabbing your hand.

"I'm fine Stevie, I- being turned on is a much more positive reaction to me chopping someone's fingers off than I would've expected." You shrug.

"Wait you're- you're okay with it?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's better than you being freaked out by it." You say.

"Definitely not freaked out." Bucky mutters kissing up your shoulder. You relax against his ministrations, enjoying the way his lips feel on your skin.

"That's a relief." You chuckle breathily.

"Buck-" Steve starts to roll his eyes but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, kissing him to stop whatever scolding he was about to give Bucky.

"Alright pal now that she's given you the green light, fess up. I know you better than anyone else, don't pretend you weren't thinking about bending her over when she took that loser's fingers like that." Bucky says, he's stopped littering your throat with kisses to taunt Steve, but his thumb is stroking the back of your neck as he speaks. Steve pulls away from your kiss to answer him.

"I was thinking about what an absolutely perfect queen she'll make." Steve says.

"Won't she?" Bucky smirks.

"Oh flattery like that will get you everywhere." You say with a small giggle.

"Right now I'm hoping it'll get us inside of you." Bucky says.

"Now that's a wish I'm only too happy to grant." You hum.

"Yeah?" He smirks.

"Absolutely." You match his cheeky smile with one of your own.

"Come here, pretty girl." Bucky hoists you off of the couch into a bridal carry. Steve kisses you once more before Bucky carries you up to their bedroom with Steve behind you. When Bucky tosses you onto the bed, Steve immediately pulls you into another kiss.

"Are you sure you wanna do this now princess? You know you can always tell us to stop if-"

"Steve stop talking!" You huff out, cutting him off. He blinks at you with a frown on his face.

"Y/n." Bucky's eyebrows knit together at your sharpness.

"I've had a very shitty 15 hours and I don't want to think about it anymore. Please. I am going to be okay just- distract me." You explain with a sigh.

"Happy to sunshine but, don't forget we love you. Sometimes we'll worry." Bucky says softly.

"I know. You can worry all you want- later. But right now I need my mind on something else." You say. Bucky nods and tugs your pants and underwear off in one go. His lips trail kisses starting at one knee and working up but he skips the place you need him most to repeat the trail up the other leg. The moment Bucky's tongue swipes through your slick folds, Steve drowns your moans with a kiss so fierce you can't breathe. Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves. Your hips thrust up against his ministrations and one of his arms comes up to lay heavy across your waist, holding you down.

"Steady doll. Gotta stay still for me." He grumbles between your legs. When two of his thick fingers slide into your entrance and curl upwards you're forced to break away from Steve's kiss, your head thrown back at the feeling of his digits working you open. Steve uses the moment to take your shirt off and unhook your bra, turning his attention to your newly exposed skin. He litters your chest with blooms of red while his fingers toy with your hardened nipples. Between the two sets of hands and lips, your head is spinning with pleasure and you can feel your release building quickly.

"G-guys I'm- fuck, oh my god. I'm gonna-" you struggle to pant out a full thought with their overwhelming touch.

"You gonna cum for us princess? Go ahead baby, you know how much we love it when you fall apart." Steve coaxes, taking your earlobe between his teeth. Your back arches as your orgasm hits, as if his words were the key to a door that wouldn't open on its own. "Good girl." Steve hums when you take in a shuddering breath.

"You taste so fucking good sunshine." Bucky mutters kissing up your abdomen.

"You tell me every time." You chuckle.

"You disagreeing with me?" He quirks an eyebrow at you making you laugh harder. "Steve? Second opinion?" Bucky turns to Steve.

"I think I need a fresh taste test before I weigh in." Steve nods, effectively ending your giggle fit as he and Bucky shift accordingly, Steve kneeling between your legs and Bucky moving onto the bed beside you.

"Wait, Bucky stand up. I wanna blow you." You tell him. He lets out a groan.

"You don't have to tell me twice." He says standing up and shoving his pants down his legs quickly. Steve huffs out a laugh before diving into your heat. Your mouth drops open with a moan as his tongue laps at your pussy. When it comes to most things, Bucky and Steve have very different styles of approach, between your legs though, both men devour you like their final meal- you sometimes wonder if they discuss what they do to you to determine what works best, but you only allow yourself a second to relish in Steve's tongue as Bucky is standing at attention beside you. You take Bucky into your mouth, bobbing your head along his length eagerly. Bucky's head falls back with a groan as you work him.

"Fuck, feels so good doll." He mutters. Just then, Steve wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly making you moan around Bucky. Your hips jerk when Steve slides two fingers into you and you struggle to keep sucking Bucky's dick as Steve pulls you towards another orgasm.

"Let go for me baby." Steve mutters against you, tongue lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You have to pull off of Bucky entirely when your release hits this time around, your body spasming uncontrollably.

"That's it doll, so pretty." Bucky hums, stroking your hair soothingly as he sits on the edge of the bed beside you.

"Gotta say, tastes better every time." Steve nods and you let out a breathless chuckle.

"You two, are ridiculous." You shake your head.

"How ya feeling sunshine?" Bucky asks.

"Good. Ready for y'all to fuck me." You say.

"Someone's insatiable." He laughs positioning himself against the headboard and lifting you onto his lap.

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" You wink. Bucky rolls his eyes but there's a smile on his face that keeps yours in place. At least until Bucky shifts you again, positioning himself at your entrance and pulling you down on him. You let out a shuddering moan as you adjust to the sudden intrusion, Bucky groaning at the way your walls pulse around him.

"Are you implying that we're responsible for this?" Steve laughs kissing your shoulder.

"Absolutely. You spoil me. I have expectations now." You say.

"Expectations, huh?" Bucky smirks, settling his hands on your hips.

"Obviously." You nod.

"Obviously." Steve scoffs. "Well Buck, let's keep those expectations high, aye."

"Was thinking the same thing." Bucky winks over your shoulder. He shifts below you, before lifting you up to bring you back down against him as he thrusts up. You cry out as Bucky takes you like that, fucking up into you and forcing you down on him. He keeps it up for several minutes before stopping, at which point you're reeling from pleasure. "Alright sunshine, we're gonna try something. Stop us if it gets too much." Bucky tells you. You should probably ask what the thing is but you're too busy trying to catch your breath so you just nod as Bucky pulls you forward to lie against his chest. Steve shifts behind you, his hands grabbing your hips firmly. You gasp and jolt slightly when you feel the head of Steve's dick poking at your already stuffed pussy.

"Wait a second there's no way you'll both fit." You say.

"Yeah we will, just relax for us baby." Bucky kisses your temple.

"Stop us if you need to princess but I think you can take it. You are perfect for us after all." Steve says rocking forward slowly, working himself in beside Bucky. You focus hard on breathing through the definitely too intense stretch of them both. When Steve eventually bottoms out, the two of them hold incredibly still, kissing reachable parts of your skin as they allow you to adjust. After a few moments, you start to squirm against them.

"Move. Please." You breathe out. They take a second to get leverage and then both of them are thrusting into you harshly. They sort out their rhythm almost immediately and all you can do is moan as Bucky and Steve fuck you together.

"Knew you could take us both. Such a good girl for us." Steve huffs out between thrusts, his breath hot in your ear. You whimper out an incoherent response.

"Aw Steve I think she's gone a bit cockdrunk on us." Bucky taunts, taking in the way your eyes are glazing over.

"Think so? Good. She wanted not to think anymore after all." Steve says. You can hear them, but their conversation falls to your ears muted, so overwhelmed that you're struggling to process anything other than the drag of their dicks along your walls.

"F-fuck I, I'm gonna- oh god." Your whiny pant isn't even a complete thought, but it's the best you're able to get out so blissed out from the way Steve and Bucky fuck you.

"Gonna cum for us sweetheart? Gonna soak our fucking dicks like a good girl?" Bucky coos at you mockingly.

"Please. Please. Please. please please please please." Your broken pleas are the only response you can offer teetering so close to the edge you can practically taste it.

"Go ahead princess, cum on our dicks, show us how good we fuck you baby." Steve says, kissing your neck. Their words along with their pace send you over the edge with a cry of their names into an orgasm so strong it's blinding. You're shaking so hard they have to tighten their hold on you as they chase their own ends. It doesn't take long for them to spill into you either, Bucky first with an expletive on his lips and Steve right after with a long moan that sends shivers down your spine. Between the two of them it's too much and you can feel their release leaking out of you. For a few moments nobody moves, it's still and silent aside from heavy breathing. Steve pulls out first and you whine when he does. "We gotta get you cleaned up princess." Steve says in response to your protesting grumble while Bucky soothes you with kisses all over your face. You watch as he walks into the bathroom and you can faintly hear the tub running. After some time, how long? Who knows, Steve returns.

"Alright sunshine. We're gonna get in the bath now." Bucky tells you. You don't have the energy to argue but you do whine again when he, with Steve's help, lifts you off of him to carry you to the bathroom. The plus side of this is when Bucky does place you in their too big jacuzzi bathtub the water is so warm you practically melt into it. Steve and Bucky take their time washing you up, gentle hands and a soft washcloth glide over your skin like it's the only thing that matters to them as they whisper promises of love and adoration and you swear you've never felt safer than in this moment.

It's incredible how what started as an anonymous gift at the mall/two overly complimentary strangers ended with you here. You're not sure loved is a strong enough word to describe how they make you feel.

***

Part 12/12

Tagged Users: @cjand10 @vicmc624 @mandijo17 @marvel-fandom23 @kattreffic

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfic #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky #stucky angst #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf au #Just Let Me Adore You #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers

[writer-darling]

About You

Rating: G (General Audiences)

Pairing: Jack Russell (Werewolf by Night, 2022) x GN!Reader

Warnings: ANGST. Hurt/comfort. Mentions of injuries and bruises. More-than-friends-but-not-a-couple trope. Mutual pining. Coziness. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 2k

Summary!: Based on the song by The 1975. Jack always responded to letters. Always. What happens the one time he doesn't?

******

Early morning train rides are always a gamble. Sometimes, they were peaceful. You could easily slip into a quick nap with how smooth the ride could be on those days. Sometimes, it was chaos. If it was riddled with teenage students who commuted to the nearest high school, it could easily be an hour’s worth of hell. But today was thankfully not one of those days. As the morning drizzle drips down the windows, the train seems to be in a world of its own. You’re tempted to take another one of those naps but honestly, the worry in your bones is keeping you from doing so. You glance around at the other passengers for a moment in an attempt to soothe your nerves.

The train is sparsely-packed today. A couple of girls sit a few rows away, college-age. They sit and smile at their phones, laughing quietly amongst themselves. The shorter girl with her hair in a ponytail tilts her phone screen towards her friend, who laughs and suddenly blushes, making her look so much younger.

A man in a brown suit sits on the other side of the aisle from you, also in a window seat. He has a pair of earbuds on and his laptop is open on one of the train’s small tray carts as he talks in hushed tones to the screen in front of him. Likely some sort of business meeting from the seriousness of his tone and the furrow of his brow. A black suitcase sits next to him on the unoccupied seat beside him. 

Another glance around shows you an elderly couple that sit beside each other at the very back of the cart. The two old ladies hold hands tightly as the blonder one of the two rests her head against the shoulder of her companion.

That last image makes you smile a little. But all too soon your thoughts go back to Jack.

You usually aren’t much of a worrywart these days, but Jack’s uncharacterisitic lack of correspondence has quickly changed that. You’re not exaggerating when you say Jack is an immediate responder. To texts, to calls, to letters even. His letters almost always get back to you within 1-2 days' time. The longest he’d gone without getting back a letter was a couple of weeks and that’s because his response had gotten lost and arrived later than he had assured you. Now, his last correspondence has been almost two months. Not to mention his last phone call or text had been a week or so before that. 

When you’d reached out to his mom, she had voiced similar concerns, though there was something in her voice that sounded much less worried than you felt.

“I’m sure he’s alright.” She’d said. “He’s likely just busy.” She’d said.

Still, it’s done little to reassure you. There was just something in your gut that told you something was very, very wrong. You were almost tempted to file a Missing Person’s report, but when you’d voiced that idea to Jack’s mom, she had assured you that she would do it herself. Yet, it’s been weeks since then and no police have reached out to you at all. 

Which makes you think that, hey if she’s not too concerned, why should you be, right? After all, other than Jack’s mom, you’re his closest loved one. You know that like you know the Earth revolves around the Sun. So then, what is going on? You sit there in the train’s window seat, watching the blur of the forest pass you by as the train makes its way into town. The City Limits sign greets you in another green and white blur. Why hasn’t he written back? 

Suddenly, an awful, gut-wrenching thought hits you:

Maybe he’s forgotten about you. Not literally, of course. But maybe, just maybe, he’s finally let go of that friendship you both have cherished so much. Maybe he no longer cherishes it the way you do. The thought tastes like bitterness in the back of your throat and you don’t realize you’re crying until you glance down at your open notebook and see the tears staining the blank page. That must be it. If his mother isn’t worried… if he hasn’t made any effort to reach out… then maybe… maybe he just doesn’t want to. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest and suddenly, your pen is flying across the page, more tears staining and blurring the ink in some spots as you write.

You express your sorrows onto the page, and one page becomes two, then five. Possibly your longest letter to Jack yet. In 40-plus years of friendship, this is your longest and possibly most depressing letter yet. You’re still crying when you disembark into town and walk to the nearest post box. You slip the now-enveloped letter into the blue box and try your best to get a grip as you make the trek to your job now, opening up your umbrella as the drizzle starts to become a hard downpour.

Jack’s body ached like he’d been hit by several trains as he stumbled back onto the property, his body still recovering from last night’s transformation. His clothes were practically torn to shreds as he walked over to the mailbox, limping slightly. His body was near-entirely black and blue from so many bruises, but he’s not too concerned about that. Two months had somehow flown by as he’d been tracking monsters and creatures all over the country. Another rescue mission for Ted last-minute had stolen every ounce of his attention for the last three weeks. He’d been completely unaware of the passage of time. 

Until he saw the letters.

He knew it had been some time since he’d last responded but had it really been so long? It must’ve been. Given the five unopened envelopes sitting in his mailbox. It had made him smile to see so many of your letters greeting him home. Like the warmest hug he could ever hope for, only second to the real thing, of course. Until he opened them…

“I miss you on the train, I miss you in the morning… please write back soon…” Jack’s eyes immediately filled with tears as he finished the last of your many unanswered letters, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. His fingers ran over every tear stain, every smudged letter, and finally on your rushed signature at the bottom of the page. He grabbed his phone from his desk drawer and finally turned it back on. An influx of messages and missed calls greeted him. All from you. How could he have been so careless?

His eyes scan over the notification banners of every message, each one sounding more and more saddened than the last. He’d missed you, of course he’d missed you. He always missed you. But these last few missions in particular had left him little time to breathe let alone think about anything other than what had been directly in front of him. He had been surrounded by different terrains and different creatures for so many nights. One of those times in his life where he’d been forced to be more monster than man, simply for survival’s sake. Thankfully Ted had kept him somewhat sane. So, when the ManThing had gone missing once again, he’d been pulled back into the Wolf’s mentality in order to save them both. 

As he read the last message he knew what he had to do immediately.

“Ay no. No, no, no, no.” He didn’t even bother to pack a bag, booking the quickest flight he could as he left the house only after a quick change of his clothing. 

He had to make this right.

You’re in bed, your mind still on Jack and the letters. It’s late in the day and the last twenty-four hours since you sent the last letter have been somehow harder than the last two months combined. Bleary-eyed, you grab your phone and open it up. Still no call-back, and your messages haven’t even been read by Jack yet. You decide to send one more text. Just one more.

“Have you forgotten about me?” 

You expected maybe a text. Or a call. What you don’t expect is an urgent knocking on your door only moments later. Your heart skips a beat and you almost run to the door, your mind telling you it's impossible even as you yank it open and take in the sight before you.

“Jack?” He’s out of breath, his hair hanging in his face as he pants, leaning himself against the doorway. You only barely notice the taxi that dropped him off leaving your driveway a moment later. “H-How-?”

“How could you?” He asks, and he sounds wounded. You’re at a loss for words, relieved that he’s here but confused as to how he got here. All you can do is take in his appearance. He looks tired, he looks worn down. His eyes have the deepest shadows you’ve ever seen on him and his scruff is the most grown out he’s ever had it. But all your mind can think is: heshereheshereheshere. You don’t realize he’s speaking again until he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. 

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you??” He demands, upset, but not angry. His voice is a grave, intense whisper and the pain in his eyes makes the hazel in his eyes burn like molten amber. Pure incredulous disbelief paints his features and you can’t respond for a full minute.

“You… You didn’t answer my letter. My messages, my calls… You always answer my letters.” You mumble in response, your voice almost detached as your mind just can’t register the fact that he’s standing right in front of you. He slumps for a moment, nodding, before stepping towards you and sweeping you up into his arms. You both embrace each other tightly and despite the restriction, you find yourself able to breathe in what feels like ages. He’s safe, he’s warm, he’s here. Your eyes close as you melt into him, feeling one of his hands cradle the back of your hair, while the other rubs your back. You’re both silent, just breathing together and reveling in the fact that you’ve reunited. You pull away after a moment, just to look at him again. Your eyes dart all over him as you soak in as much of his appearance as you can.

“I was away. I wasn’t home. I felt my phone. I-I’m sorry.” The words stumble out of his mouth quickly as he makes you meet his eyes. Your gaze locks on his for a moment as you try to catch your breath, your mind still lightly spinning. 

“I thought you forgot about me.” Your voice is almost timid as you speak and you see something in his eyes change. A fierce shift of protection you rarely ever see in Jack. He hugs you again, even tighter this time and the two of you don’t speak for a long moment as he holds you close to him. His scent permeates your senses and you breathe in deeply, your eyes closing as you bask in his warmth.

“Ni lo pienses.” His voice is a low mutter into your hair as he rubs your spine gently with his palm, his touch comforting and reaffirming his presence. You let out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh as you melt into him further and he melts right back. Both of you somehow keep each other upright as you hug one another so tightly you’re almost sure you’ll have bruises in the morning. But that’s the last thing on your mind right now. You pull away to bring him into the house, getting both of you out of the chill and the rain into the warmth of your house. You both feel like thousand-pound weights have been removed from your chests.

He’s here... and he's not going anywhere.

******

I really need to write more Jack stories. He brings me so much comfort, I can't explain it.

Jack Russell TagList: @jedi-in-crocs @kayleezra @amandanik23 @mandy-sings

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#gael garcia bernal #werewolf by night #marvel #gael garcia bernal x gender neutral reader #gael garcia bernal x you #jack russell x gender neutral reader #jack russell x you #my werewolf's keeper au #crossposted on ao3 #writer-darling

[tofu-likes-to-draw]

I need to redraw this comic strip its so damn wholesome. I started reading the Morbius comic books originally I just wanna observe the man’s fashion sense, BUT I ended up loving him even more lmao.Now he’s my fav character ever in the Marvel franchise.

I drew MCU Jack Russell here, he’s literally too pure for this world and I love Gael’s portrayal of him.

Not ever drawing the Jared Leto version, I hate the 2022 film version with a burning passion

PLUS I kinda made a MCU-based Midnight Sons AU thingy out of pure daydreaming and because it’ll take too long for it to happen so I’ll just do it myself 😤😤

Kinda scared to post this bc no one ever made a Midnight Suns AU before (at least not that I know of) planning to make it a comic series or some sort.

The original:

These characters and comic belongs to Marvel btw. I hope y’all enjoy the piece of my imagination.

(Also looking for the OG Morbs fans here bc it’s so damn lonely liking this guy)

#digital art #art #fanart #myartstyle #jack russell #redraw #morbius #michael morbius #midnight sons #marvel au #morbius the living vampire #I forgot the volume sorry reee #Still new to comics so I dunno how stuff works yet #werewolf by night #the tags here gonna be wild