#tpromptsachallenge

[harryspet]

painted with bruises | bucky barnes

[Warnings] severe domestic violence, bucky barnes x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, mafia!bucky, officer!steve, oral sex (female recieving), kidnapping, bondage, extreme violence, torture, so much angst, steve is a suuuper bad person in this haha

[A/N] This is a super last minute entry into @tilltheendwilliwrite ‘s 7.7K Follower (Covid Sucks) Celebration! so I hope you enjoy.

TRIGGERING AND ADULT CONTENT AHEAD

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar  @nsfwsebbie  @mandiiblanche

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He twirled his knife through his fingers, passing the time, as he waited for you to finally come to. He’d seen a million pictures of you but, seeing you so close in person, Bucky couldn’t help but think that your pictures didn’t do you justice. You were a mostly a ghost to society and, as someone who’s only family was Steve and someone who lived comfortably in his shadow, you had no one to truly gaze upon your beauty.

You were a hidden gem and Bucky understood a little more why Steve kept you so close to him. No matter how much you trained and proved your strength, you were still a prize. A very useful prize though. Bucky leaned back in the wooden chair, the furniture still wrapped in its protective plastic, knife still in hand as he watched your head start to move. The floor creaked beneath you, sound traveled eerily through the abandoned home. 

Motion traveled through your body as each of your limbs tried to free and stretch themselves. Bucky’s men informed him that you put up a good fight when they picked you up from the grocery store parking deck. Clint even came back with a broken pinky and a wounded ego. 

You sat in a chair only five feet away from him, your hands tightly handcuffed behind you, and your ankles cuffed to the legs of the chair. The home was beginning to smell like mildew and the smell invaded your senses as your eyes blinked open. Surprisingly, it wasn’t your restraints that triggered your initial sense of pain but your ribs.

When you finally gazed upon him, both of your faces were stoic. Two predators stared back at each other. You noted the two men standing a few feet behind him, their clothes dark and their faces hard. You recognized the one who’s pinky you’d roughly bent back when they had grabbed you. 

The room was illuminated by a flickering chandelier and you realized you were sitting in the dining room of some boarded-up house. By the furniture and wallpaper, you would’ve guessed it used to be a pretty, luxurious home. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Rogers.”

It took you a few short seconds but you placed who the man before you was. Brown leather jacket, dark beard, and a black glove covering up his left hand. You knew what was hidden beneath it, his arm being just as notorious as he was. 

“Bucky Barnes,” Your eyes narrowed at him, “You’ve … gotten old.”

Bucky didn’t smile but his slight amusement was evident, “Rikers Island will do that to you.”

His hands folded together and you tried to read the state of emotions. You imagined that he was doing the same to you, “Seems you’re lucky that you’re not there, rotting away right now.”

“Not so lucky for you or Steve though, right?”

“I guess not,” You spoke blankly.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, “You’re not going to ask why you’re here? No pleading? No threats of violence?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t. Perhaps because you had experienced much worse than anything this mobster could ever inflict upon you, “I know this is because of Steve because he’s the one who put you in prison. I know you probably want to hurt me in order to get back at him.”

Bucky leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours, “And this doesn’t scare you?”

There was fear in your heart but you weren’t sure if it was from a fear that you’d be hurt, “I know he’s looking for me. Half of the NYPD is probably looking for me right now. They’ll find you …”

“That may be true but you probably know how much of a selfish bastard he is. If he ran to his colleagues, he’d get taken off the case because he’s too close to it. I think Steve would want to kill me himself … hunt me down himself,” Your heart began to race as you listened to his words. You trusted Steve or at least a fantasy of Steve that you created, but Bucky’s words had a brutal truth to them. “What do you think, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I think you end up dead either way,” You stated, trying to keep your lip from shaking. 

“And what about you?”

“Steve... Steve will find me.”

“Sure,” You watched the knife twist in his hands, “But does he find you before or after I kill you is the question? … I think I’d want to see his face when I take away what he loves the most. But if you die, it’ll probably only make the public give him more sympathy. Our mayor loves charity cases and Steve would get promoted to chief of police in no time.”

You swallowed, “But you won’t let that happen. You’d kill him before you let that happen.”

Bucky sighed, “You got me, Mrs. Rogers. You know, you would’ve made a great detective. It’s a shame that you left the force after only three years,” Your eyes widened at his statement. Though the information was a google click away, you hadn’t thought about your past in so long that it had startled you, “It makes me wonder what made you quick.”

“You’re trying to make small talk with me while I’m handcuffed to a chair?” You scowled but he chuckled. 

“Fine, no small talk. Clint,” Bucky lifted his knife up, the handle facing up. The older man, his light brown hair slicked up and shaved at the sides, moved forward and grabbed the knife from Bucky. He used the hand that wasn’t bandaged up and moved towards you, “How about a little photo shoot so we can keep Mr. Rogers updated.”

Uselessly, you started to pull at your restraint. The man kneeled down by your feet, taking the knife and starting to cut away at the fabric of your black leggings, “What are you doing?” Bucky found it strange that you were now finally panicking. You had managed to act like your life wasn’t in danger this entire time. 

Now your eyes were blinking fast and the discomfort in your face was evident. Bucky didn’t answer you, only stared as he watched the fabric rip away, “I-I left because of Steve!” You rushed out, “I didn’t have to work because Steve was going to take care of us.”

“Clint,” Bucky stopped the man from continuing, your bottom leg already exposed. Clint stood and stepped away from you causing you to let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding, “He was going to take care of you? But you spent so long getting your GED, training and you worked hard to get that job.”

“He was my fiance then and … I thought it would be good for us. If I didn’t have to work then I shouldn't have to. Besides, he didn’t want me to be stressed from work while we were trying for a baby.”

“How long have you been trying?” He seemed genuinely interested but you kept talking hoping it would keep the knife away. 

“Two years…” Your voice trembled as his question triggered bad memories.

“Steve always wanted a family,” Bucky said like your answer triggered his own memory, “He’d probably do anything to get that …”

Part of you felt like you were betraying Steve by revealing so much information. You knew that Bucky and Steve went back all the way to elementary school and that their path had divulged into two very different roads. 

“He will have it,” You said, suddenly growing angry. You felt anger at Bucky as well as yourself, “When he finds me and kills you. And you’ll never experience anything like that.”

Bucky’s facial expression darkened at your words. He raised a hand, gesturing to Clint to continue. Clint went back to tearing away at your clothes and you started to struggle wildly, almost tipping the chair over in the process. 

Bucky straightened his jacket, trying to seem phased by the tears welling in your eyes. Clint tore away at your leggings and Bucky gestured to Sam to start taking pictures. The goal was to get Steve to think that you were being tortured in more ways than one. 

“Don’t. P-Please, don’t!”

All the men seemed to hesitate at the same time. Clint had paused as he watched the front of your shirt slip away to the sides and Sam’s finger hovered over the camera button. The beauty of your face was still there, tears in all, but your body told a completely different story. 

Bucky had never seen someone so purple and blue. The bruises covered your stomach, your thighs, and your arms which had been covered by long sleeves. There was a huge bandage on your stomach, bloody gauze stuck behind it. Bucky stood. 

Even in all his time in the most brutal jail in the world, he hadn’t seen anything like this, especially not done to a woman. Your knees snapped together and you turned your head, trying to hide away. 

“Who did this?” Bucky asked, his voice smaller than it had been during the entire encounter. 

You breathed heavily like you were being suffocated by the attention, “Y-Your men manhandled me!” You forced out, “What do you mean? Did you forget that you kidnapped me?”

Bucky looked to Clint and Sam, “Get out.”

As they left the room, Bucky removed his jacket, exposing the protruding biceps beneath his black shirt. He placed the jacket over as he began to undo your restraints one by one, “I gave them strict orders not to hurt you. And these … these bruises … some look much older than others,” You were a rainbow of color, signifying that each mark had a different date of impact. Bucky looked up at you, from his place kneeling at your feet, and something remarkable had changed in his face, “Don’t tell me …”

As your wrists were free, you brought your hands together, rubbing them together as they began to shake, “I had an accident … “

“Steve did this,” His voice had gone from strong and commanding to what is what now, weak and unsure. You shook your head, shutting your eyes tight, “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“You think you’re different from him?” You spoke, your tone venomous. 

“I know I am,” This time he was sure of his words yet he seemed a bit hurt, “And he’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

“He won’t,” That much you did know, “And you’re a fool just like me.”

+

“Ma’am,” You looked up from the bubbles, your bruised figure beneath the warm water, as you heard a maid call for you, “I left a robe for you on the counter and some clothes for you on the bed. Mr. Barnes wants you to join him for breakfast but he understands if you’d still like your time alone. He’ll send up your food if that’s what you wish.”

You didn’t respond, though she sounded like a kind lady, you had resorted to silence ever since your world came crashing down around you yesterday. 

You refused to see a Doctor which Bucky respected, probably knowing how much he had violated you yesterday and wanting to continue to play the good guy. 

When you heard her footsteps pitter-patter away, you sunk back down into the bubbles. It had been a long while since you “relaxed” in this way. Despite the fact that you were home most of the day, you never felt peace or relaxation living with Steve. 

Even when you organized his clothes perfectly, cooked his favorite dinner, or wore that red lingerie thing he liked, he was never really satisfied. Even when he pretended he was happy and you fell for his charm, his tone always changed.  

And now it felt like the relationship you had worked so hard to maintain was more useless than you originally thought. You had no baby and no happy family to show for it. You were behind enemy lines probably destined to die because of Steve. 

Though it did cross your mind that you were being abnormally pampered for a hostage. Bucky’s penthouse was high up, looking over the darker side of the city. A view of luxury from the wrong side of the tracks. 

You ate your breakfast alone from your room, spending most of the day staring up at the ceiling. When the servant returned that evening, you assumed that she was here to invite you to dinner with Mr. Barnes. She’d probably expect you to say no and to depressingly roll over in bed. 

Instead, she found you dressed and ready for something- anything. You’d pick out something from the fineries in the closet, a tight red dress that hugged your curves, and let more parts of your body show then you were normally comfortable with. 

“Ma’am,” The woman tried to keep eye contact and not let her eyes wander over your rainbow skin, “Mr. Rogers … Mr. Rogers is here.”

You took a deep, uncertain breath before your lips pressed into a thin smile, “Good.”

“You don’t want to eat here?” She asked, sounding concerned.

“Mr. Barnes wants me to eat with him, right?” You were already walking past her, your heels clicking against the marble floors. She was baffled as she followed after her. Bucky’s home was regal and, walking it in for the first time, you thought the man must’ve seen way too many mafia movies from the seventies. 

You approached a landing with a view of the massive living room, a grand staircase leading down to the event that you’d just interrupted. At least ten men were gathered, a black tarp laid out as a hunched over man sat there on his knees, and one man paced by the first. Steve and Bucky. 

They hadn’t noticed you and you took the opportunity to listen in.

“This good guy persona … you’ve really lied to yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself it's true,” Bucky’s tone was incredulous and you could tell the amusement in his voice was only a facade, “You forgot how you even climbed the ranks so fast. Without my connections, without my intel, you’d still be working security at the mall.”

“I turned myself around…” His voice was weaker than usual and, as you moved towards the stairs, you realized the blood soaking through the back of his shirt, “I tried to help you, Buck.”

“You threw me in prison for something that I did for you. I help you lock up one of my enemies, you get the praise and I make more money,” You started to put things together as you listened, thinking back to when you thought Steve was a hero and that this city was lucky to not have to deal with Bucky Barnes anymore, “Except you couldn’t help yourself from wanting more, old friend.”

“Oh, cut the fucking bullshit!” You felt your heart began to race at the sound of his growing anger but you kept moving forward. As you finally started to descend the stairs, your eyes connected with your kidnapper, “Where is she?”

Steve scared you to death but you had decided that you weren’t afraid of your final days anymore.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” You couldn’t exactly read Bucky’s expression but you knew exactly what Steve was thinking when he turned his head towards the bottom of the staircase. It was initially a look of relief, of thankfulness that he could lay eyes on his beautiful, obedient, and stupid wife. Then it turned to that anger you knew so well, that look he gave you and you knew immediately that you probably would be able to get out of bed the next day because of how in pain you’d be. 

Painted with bruises, you crossed the room and took your place beside Bucky. 

“Y/N … I’m taking you home, I promise,” He stated, trying to mask that fury with a smile that had charmed you many times before. 

You gazed at Bucky who seemed a bit unsure of your intentions but was entranced by you nonetheless, “That’s not a home,” You stated, trying your best to keep eye contact. Even now, you found your knees weak despite the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back and he was the one on his knees now, “A-And …” You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, “And it’s over.”

“What’s over, baby?” His voice raised and his eyes narrowed angrily, causing you to take a step back but you felt a calm hand on the small of your back. It was a reminder that this was all a manipulative strategy and he was trying to hold onto his control by scaring you. 

“Us,” You stated as calmly as possible. 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“Steve-”

“Answer me! Did you fuck him?” You were shaking now but not in fear. 

You turned towards Bucky, and before he could even know what you were planning, you were reaching towards his waistband. He didn’t panic, surprisingly, but easily let you grab the gun strapped to his waist. Even knowing you could turn it on him, he let you do it. To Steve’s surprise, this wasn’t a big charade in order to disarm Bucky and set the two of you free. 

You pointed it at your kneeling, former lover, “Y/N, what are you-”

“Who I fuck from now on should be the least of your worries. you jealous, fucking prick,” Twisting the knife, he was now red with anger. In an attempt to get to his feet, you thought he might charge at you but your aim was good, and, gripping the gun tightly, you fired a bullet into his thigh. 

“Fuck!” He cursed, falling back down, and whaling in excruciating pain, “You fucking bitch! You’re nothing without me!”

He’d saved you. He’d kept you from choosing a life of crime, of falling into a broken system, and he’d encourage you to follow dreams. Then he’d hurt you like the monster he actually was in an attempt to break you to his will. 

You raised the gun up, your eyes concentrating on the space on his forehead. You hadn’t noticed how badly you were shaking until you felt that same hand on your back. He placed his other hand on top of the barrel, “You don’t have to make it painless for him,” Were his words and you lowered the gun, letting Bucky carefully take it from you. 

“I want him to suffer,” You seethed, watching Steve clutch his thigh in pain. 

“Take him to the garage,” Bucky ordered his men, “Leave him unrecognizable.”

Steve went kicking and screaming but you found yourself unafraid of him anymore. You thought of him as this powerful entity that could never be taken down. Now you saw him as a petulant child that would probably beg for his mother on his way out. 

You turned to him but you didn’t have words yet. “How do you feel?” He asked, probably unsure of what to say to you. 

“Why do they say revenge is never the answer?” You asked, “I feel … fucking exhilarated.”

Bucky’s lip turned into a smirk, “They say that cathartic feeling won’t last … something tells me this is different.”

You nodded, your lips tugging into a smile, “Yeah, this is different,” You stepped forward, closing the gap between you. With hesitant hands, he grabbed your waist but you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled him down towards you, smashing your lips against his. 

Your lips didn’t stop tasting one another, as your bodies began crumbling down towards the carpet. The heat of the fire fanned your flames and you found yourselves desperately tugging at each other’s clothes. 

You swallowed that feeling that told you this was wrong, you swallowed that guilt you might have felt and you decided to do what you wanted for the first time in a long time. Bucky’s hands roamed over your skin but he never grabbed at you and you could tell he was trying to be gentle. With your back against the carpet, he hovered over you, “You’re beautiful,” He said, his blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. 

You liked the look in his eyes because he didn’t feel sorry for you. He meant those words. 

He kissed the side of your mouth and then down your chin. As his lips touched your scars, it was like he was acknowledging them and also accepting them at the same time. He kissed down your body, over your breast. He moved down, sliding your panties to the side as his head dipped down. He kissed your sensitive bud, teasing you as he looked back into your eyes, “Your aim is quite good, I think you could have a place here, Y/N.”

Your cheeks were warm and not because of the fire, “I won’t belong to anyone else ever again.”

“Of course not,” He smiled a wicked smile, “You’re in control … and your wish would be my command.”

His head finally dipped down again and, as you’d never been touched before, Bucky left you convulsing in pleasure for the rest of the long night. 

The Persephone to his Hades, you knew then that the underworld may have been where you belonged all along.

+

I hope you enjoyed this one! Please lmk what you think :)

#tpromptsachallenge #tw:abuse #dark fic #bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #writing challenge #marvel smut #bucky barnes au #captain america #captain america x reader #winter soldier #sebastian stan #chris evans #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst

[jobean12-blog]

Touched by an Angel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 850

Summary: Bucky and Winter find someone who needs their help. 

Author’s Note: This is for @tilltheendwilliwrite​ 7.7K follower celebration (covid sucks) and the Angel collection, I chose paper wings with Bucky and the photo I used for my inspiration is large and on the left in my moodboard. Congratulations my lovely and very talented friend, thank you for sharing all your amazing stories with us! Thank you all for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, soft fluff, Bucky’s dog Winter :)

A thin streak of moonlight shone through the window as Bucky lay in bed, awake and waiting for the sunrise. With his hands resting behind his head he let out a loud sigh, making his dog, Winter lift her head and nuzzle his side. “Hey girl, I’m ok. Just restless.” He gently scratched behind her ears until she laid her chin on his chest, staring up at him with eyes that match his own. “Should we go for a walk? Maybe we can catch the sunrise over the ocean.”

Winter’s tail thumps along the bed and Bucky smiles, grateful for the dogs unyielding companionship. “Ok, let’s go!” Bucky rises off the bed and washes up, throwing on some clothes and a light hoodie. Summer was coming to and end with the crisp kiss of fall right on its heels, the air had a chill.

The early morning was wet with dew as Bucky walked along the path in the woods. The moon and stars were still the only source of light in the sky and cast a warm glow through the trees, now coming alive with the sounds of the crepuscular animals. His body was tired, but he felt at peace here, the distant sound of ocean waves calling him closer.

Winter picked up on the smell first, her nose rising toward the sky and twitching back and forth. She looked to Bucky then took off on a straight shot toward the cliffs, Bucky right behind. When he rounded the corner, he couldn’t believe with he saw. At the edge of the rocks stood Winter, her head bowed low and nudging a listless body in what appeared to be a heap of feathers.

Bucky approached slowly, unsure as to what she was but unafraid. Winter laid by her side and licked her face causing her to roll over. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat when he finally got a look at her. Large white wings curved around her body in a protective stance while hair of the same color was strewn about her face and shoulders, matted with dried blood.

He immediately knelt down and felt for a pulse. It was weak but it was there. Brushing the hair from her face he went to touch a feather on her wing but thought better of it, admiring the almost translucent shimmer. They looked like the moonlight dancing across the ocean below, silvery white and brilliant.

Lifting her into his arms he secured her to his chest and started walking back to his home, her head falling to his shoulder and her chest rising and falling with short breaths. Winter bumped her dangling feet every so often and Bucky was sure he saw her lips lift into a weak smile.

When he got her home, he placed her onto his bed, trying his best to let her wings spread wide so as not to crush them in any way. Gathering his first aid equipment he set to work cleaning her wounds and covering them, taking extra care to wipe the blood from her wings. Winter lay curled up at the end of the bed, her head resting over the stranger’s legs and her eyes watching Bucky’s every move.

The first rays of the sun were peaking over the horizon as Bucky finished up, his eyes tired but his mind racing with a thousand thoughts about who and what she was. He noticed her breathing had become more even and her face looked calm and he took the chance to rest his eyes.

It wasn’t until he felt the warmth of the afternoon sun that he woke, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and frantically looking around asking himself if he had been dreaming. Both the stranger and Winter were gone from his bed and he stood, calling for the dog. Winter came bounding into the room and pushed against his legs, wagging her tail and barking.

She ran to the doorway and looked back at him before running off and out the door of the house. Bucky once again followed, rushing past the trees and along the path to the cliffs. When he reached the clearing, he saw both of them sitting at the edge, white fur and white feathers lightly blowing in the ocean breeze. She turned to look at him, her eyes bright with life and maybe something more. He stood and stared, in awe of the beauty before him. She held her hand out and beckoned him over, her smile soft and welcoming.

“Come sit with me soldier.” He walked to her side and she shifted her wing back, giving him room to sit. The sunlight glinted over her feathers and bathed her in an ethereal radiance. “Thank you, for saving my life.” Bucky’s head fell toward his chest, his cheeks pink with a light blush, “it was nothing.” She placed her fingers under his chin and lifted his eyes to hers. “Are you an Angel?” he asked, voice filled with wonderment. Her reply took him completely off guard, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

@book-dragon-13​ @bugsbucky​ @buckys-henley​ @buckstaybucky​ @buckosawrus​ @breezy1415​ @chuuulip​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @hawksmagnolia​ @itsunclebucky​ @ikaris-whore​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @lokilvrr​ @lorilane33​ @loricameback​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @yansi1923​

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x angel!reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x angel!reader #bucky x angel!reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #tpromptsachallenge #sebastian stan

[wingsyouburn]

Fic: Angel of Mine, Chapter 15 (MCU)

Title: Angel of Mine

Fandoms: Marvel Cinemagic Universe, Captain America (Movies)

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Rosalie Archer (OC)

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Tags: Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rated for future chapters, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angels, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demons, tpromptsachallenge, Eventual Smut

Summary: Angels walk among us. They serve the people, aiding those who need it, guiding their chosen, and using their magical abilities to make the world a better place. Rosalie Archer thought she had it all. Once her two best friends, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, returned from World War II, she would bind her life to theirs, and the three of them would live happily ever after. Only Bucky fell from a train, and Steve crashed into the ice, and Rosalie had to find a new path in life.

Now it’s 2014, and unbeknownst to Rosalie, her secret has been discovered. HYDRA wants to harness the power of angels, and with the help of a demon with a grudge, their experiments are close to complete. When Rosalie goes missing, her old friend, Peggy Carter, sends Steve and Bucky after her. In a reunion seventy years in the making, how will Steve and Bucky react to Rosalie’s abilities? How will the rest of the Avengers react to a new comrade with wings?

And how far will demons go in order to see all of the angels destroyed?

A Stucky/OC Angels AU.

Notes: Written as part of @tilltheendwilliwrite​'s 7.7k Covid Sucks Prompt Challenge. Congrats on all the followers, T - you deserve all that and more! I hope you like what I've come up with for this challenge. ♥

This fic assumes that 1. Bucky was rescued from HYDRA, 2. the Accords never happened, and 3. everyone is living happily ever after(ish) in the Avengers Compound. What's canon? I've never met them. Takes place post the first Avengers movie.

Note for Chapter 15: The song Rosalie sings is "This Wild Ride" by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness. ♥

Her stomach rumbled. “I would love a sweet.” Pastries always reminded her of the bakery case at Archer’s, full of the freshest desserts from the bakery down the street. “You’re sure no one will miss us?” “Nah.” Sam slashed a hand over his throat. “Steve and Tony are arguing. Nat and Bucky are egging them on. We have time.” She giggled. “Sounds like my boys.” With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Sam directed her down the hallway. “Your boys, huh?” He whistled under his breath. “They must be mighty important to you.” “Of course. They’re my chosen.” The door to the break room was open. Inside was another, smaller conference table with a handful of chairs. The back counter had a Keurig, cups, lids, and a giant silver tray with danishes and coffee cakes. “Oh, coffee, that sounds good too,” Rosalie murmured. “Can I make you a cup, Sam?” She paused. “Sam?”

Read Chapter 15 at AO3!

Previous Chapters: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] 

[ 14 ]

#fanfiction #tpromptsachallenge #mcu #mcu fanfiction #stucky #stucky fanfiction #story: angel of mine #amie writes

[heylissaaaaa]

Sometimes, Gentle Solace

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader Summary: Steve disappears after a mission Word count: 3.4k Warnings: none, maybe some angst if you squint. Mostly hurt/comfort A/N: Hi friends! This was written for the amazing, fantastic @tilltheendwilliwrite​ ‘s challenge, with the song prompt “You Say” by Lauren Daigle. For reference, if you want it, I imagined the song as Steve’s POV whereas in the fic you get the reader’s. For registered users on AO3, you can also read this here. 

You were at home when you got the call, laying on your bed and flipping through a magazine. The phone went off by your elbow, some 8-bit song Bucky had thought was hilarious. He insisted that he be the only one with that ringtone. “Hey, Buck-o,” you said, putting the phone on speaker and dropping it back onto the bed. “I thought you guys wouldn’t be back until later tonight.”

“Is Steve with you?” he asked. He sounded out-of-breath, frantic. You could imagine him pacing, running his hand through his hair.

You paused with a page half turned, looking down at the phone with a frown. “No, he’s not. What’s going on?”

“He’s gone.”

Sitting up, you took the phone off speaker and put it to your ear. “Gone? What the hell do you mean, gone?”

“I mean gone, walked out, left, disappeared without a word.” You could hear how worked up he was getting, and didn’t begrudge him the time he needed to catch his breath. “We came back an hour ago, sat through the debrief, and then went our separate ways to clean up. He didn’t come back for dinner like we usually do. He wasn’t in his room. I asked Friday if he was in the building, she told me to talk to you.”

Your mind was moving so fast it was hard to focus on anything other than gone. It went through the worst-case scenarios first: kidnapped, ambushed, shoved into a van. But if that were true, Tony and Friday would have known about it. Which meant he’d left on his own. “He wouldn’t walk out for no reason. What happened on the mission?”

“You know I can’t-”

“Jesus, Buck, I’m not asking for a play-by-play or anything. Just… was it bad?” you asked, voice going soft.

He was quiet so long you worried the call had dropped. Then there was a sigh, an even quieter, “Yeah. It was bad. Mom and her son got caught in the crossfire. We lost the mom.”

Your heart lurched, eyes heavy. First for that poor family, and then for Steve. And then in clicked. “Candle lighting,” you muttered. No wonder Friday had told him to ask you; you should have known right then what she was getting at. After all, you were the one that insisted Steve have that code with the AI. You thought there should be at least some trace of where he was going, in case something happened. Now that it had, you were a little lost. He’d wanted this to be a secret, and so far, it had been, but this was way off-script. He’d never gone out in the middle of the day, never straight after a mission and never when someone else was waiting on him.

“Candle- what? What does that mean?”

Pushing aside any guilt at betraying his confidence, you knew you were going to need help. This wasn’t in the plans. “I know where he is,” you said. Shutting off the bedroom light, you made your way into the living room, squishing your phone against your cheek with your shoulder while you put on your shoes. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was hesitant, unsure. You could practically hear the questions swirling in his mind, could picture the furrow of his brow as if he were standing there in front of you. He must have thought better of asking them, or decided to wait until he could do it in person, because all he said was, “I’ll be there in ten.”

You were about to hang up when a thought occurred. “Bucky? Make sure no one else sees you leave,” you said. Friday would clean up after him and keep the team at bay as per your and Steve’s instructions, but it couldn’t hurt to have him try as well. Especially if he were stopped by someone on his way out.

“Why?”

“Just do it. Please.”

True to his word, Bucky let you know he was outside your building almost exactly ten minutes later. You gave him an address, and then the pair of you were silent as you sat in traffic. Lights and street signs went in and out of focus as you stared out the window, willing your heart not to beat straight out of your chest. Your hands were wedged tight between your thighs to keep them from shaking.

There was no doubt in your mind that Bucky could feel your reticence as much as you could feel his eagerness to talk about the address that you’d given him. It only grew as you crossed the bridge, and things started looking more and more familiar.

You saw the moment he realized where you were. “That’s…”

“Yeah, it is.”

Bucky found a miraculous bit of curb out front and wormed his way alongside it. After shutting off the car, all he did was stare out the window at the front steps of the small church. “How did I not know he came here?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“He didn’t want anyone on the team to know,” you said, looking down at your hands now fidgeting in your lap. You know how it sounded, but it was the only answer you had.

Still, it made you flinch when he snapped, “I’m not just someone on the team!”

“I know that, Buck. And so does he. But this was- this is his. The only reason he told me was because I was worried something was going on behind my back when he’d go dark on me. Radio silence for hours at a time when I knew it wasn’t work-related,” you said. It had been a very guilt-inducing conversation on both sides. No way had you actually believed he’d do anything to hurt you, but sometimes anxiety got the better of your rationality. He’d felt bad for making you worry; you’d felt bad for having gotten him to admit to something he’d wanted secret. “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, Bucky. He’s always so worried about not being strong for you and the others. I don’t think he understands that he’s allowed to be anything less than Captain America to you guys. You know that about him better than I do.”

“Yeah. Guess I do.” A car up the road honked, and several shouting voices followed. Bucky didn’t speak until they’d faded. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I- I thought he’d be able to trust me with something like this. Especially this.”

You reached across the center console and touched his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I didn’t know he trusted you. He trusts you more than anyone else in the world. He’s just a little dumb when it comes to himself.” Bucky grunted out a half-laugh. You unbuckled yourself with your free one.

Easing the church door open to minimize the squeaking of the hinges, your breath caught. Steve was the only one there, sitting in the front left pew, head bowed. The sunlight that poured through stained glass windows reflected off his hair like a halo. He didn’t look up as you poked your head in, so either he knew it was you or he was too far gone to notice an intruder at all. “I need you to wait here,” you murmured, voice still echoing in the stillness of the church. Bucky had followed you up the steps.

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw feathered as he looked past you towards Steve. You knew it was only care and worry for him that made Bucky want to ignore you. But it was that same care that finally had him nodding. “Yeah, alright.”

You hesitated a moment, still facing Bucky. “I don’t… I don’t know what state we’re going to find him in. I don’t know if he’s going to let us help. Follow my lead, okay?”

Bucky blinked rapidly, swallowed twice, and finally turned away from you to wait in the car. You knew how he felt.

The pew creaked when you sat down, too loud in the silence. Now that you were close enough, you could see his lips moving, hear the slightest whisper of words when he exhaled. His hands gripped his knees, eyes shut tight. His lashes were wet, and every few moments new tears followed the trails down his cheeks. You brushed your fingers over the back of the hand nearest to you, holding your breath. After a moment, he turned his hand over so you could weave your fingers between his. His grip was tight, not enough to hurt but enough for him to be sure you were there.

Relief washed through you. When things went wrong, sometimes he wouldn’t let you touch him, wouldn’t let himself touch you. That he would let you hold his hand, that he seemed to need it, reassured you that you’d made the right decision in coming.

“Hey, Stevie,” you murmured. He didn’t answer, the flow of murmuring didn’t break beyond the slight hitch of his breath, but you didn’t expect him to. Looking around the room, your gaze came to rest on the votive candle rack in the far corner. Three candles were lit. “Been awhile since you’ve talked to her. Say hi for me?”

He brushed his thumb over yours.

Very rarely did he come here to take confession, or to sit with a member of the clergy. Most often, he came here to be alone. To seek solace and comfort both in and from his own mind. Sometimes, and with the events of the mission he’d come here because of, he came to do something more specific. This was the church where he buried his mother.

Ten minutes later, his words tapered off into silence.

Before you could start coaxing him out the door, there was something you had to do. “Stevie,” you began. “Bucky’s waiting outside to take us home.” He tensed, and let out a low, distressed noise. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “I know, but he called me to tell me that you’d disappeared. I couldn’t not tell him. Besides, I can’t take you on the subway in your uniform and I don’t have a car. I’m a little surprised you made it here, actually. You’ll have to tell me about it later.”

The huff of laughter was a small victory, even if it ended in a hitched breath. After a minute of debate, you took his face in your free hand but didn’t try to lift it towards you. “This is still your place, you know. There’s just one more person that knows about it now. Bucky is your best friend. He’s not going to think less of you; you know he won’t.” You gave it another moment before you dropped your hand and stood. “Are you ready to go? Or do you want some more time?”

Steve stood up with you, and you were relieved not to see him favoring either side as you left the pew and walked back up the aisle. Bucky was in the car, staring resolutely ahead, while you opened the back door for Steve to get in. You found Bucky’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head and tried not to feel too bad when he frowned. You put your hand over his when you got into the passenger’s seat.

The drive to your apartment was as quiet as the drive to the church had been, something that had never happened when the three of you were in a car together. No bickering over the radio station - you always won - no backseat driving from Steve, and no cursing from Bucky at terrible taxi drivers or pedestrians that never payed attention to the walk sign. Just faint city sounds tempered by the glass of the windows and your collectively held breaths.

When you pulled up in front of your building, Bucky didn’t even try to get out. You helped Steve up the front steps, both his hands clutching one of yours. You stopped on the top step. Letting go of his hand, you put yours up to cup his face. “Go on upstairs, okay? I’ll be right up,” you said. He nuzzled into the soft warmth of your hands for a moment before he turned away and disappeared inside with your keys.

You turned back toward the car, leaning on the open passenger-side window. Bucky was looking over your shoulder, where you were sure Steve had disappeared into the building. “I know that it’s not easy to see him like this, and harder not to do something. But trust me; you’ve been a big help,” you said, moving your head to the side until you caught his eye. “He’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Bucky’s grip relaxed on the wheel, and he slumped in the seat. “Just… just tell him I love him when he comes out of it, okay? Then maybe punch him for scaring the hell outta me.”

The half-smile you knew he forced for you was a small comfort, one you tried to return. “‘Course I will,” you said.

“I’ll let the others know he’s safe, give you guys some space for a while.”

“Thanks.” You stepped away from the car and waited until the brake lights disappeared before you went inside. Bucky would need some comforting of his own after this, so you made a mental note to invite him over for dinner tomorrow night.

Your apartment door wasn’t fully latched when you reached the top of the stairs to your floor. Shutting it tight and locking it behind you, you took a moment to breathe as you leaned against it. There was already a hint of tiredness in your bones, your body craving to melt into a puddle on the floor as the adrenaline of finding Steve and getting him back here wore off. But there were things you needed to do first.

Steve’s boots were already lined up against the wall, your keys in the dish on the counter, but the man was nowhere in sight. You went through your apartment, making sure the curtains were shut against the afternoon light. From the kitchen you grabbed a bottle of water and a granola bar before making your way down the hall.

He was standing in the middle of the bathroom when you entered, looking at his reflection in the mirror but not seeing it. He hadn’t removed any other part of his uniform, hadn’t made any attempts to start cleaning himself up, but then you hadn’t expected him to. That wasn’t how this went.

You set your items down on the edge of the sink and he reached for them with mechanical movements. Both the bottle of water and the bar were gone by the time you’d filled up the tub. Steve had begun watching you move around the small space, grabbing towels and a change of clothes from out in the bedroom. When you were finished, you helped him out of his uniform and into the warm water.

He was still holding your hand as he settled in, so you knelt down by the edge of the tub. “Have to get you cleaned up, Stevie. You want me to stay out here while we do that?”

His fingers loosened around yours and for a moment you thought he’d let go, which you hadn’t expected. But then they tightened and he was pulling you toward him. “Okay, alright. Let me go for a second,” you said. You could feel the reluctance in his hand to part with yours, still touching as much as he dared with the pads of his fingertips even after he let you go. Undressing quickly, you stepped over the side of the tub and knelt between his knees so that you faced him. His hands came up to rest on the outside of your thighs, but you knew it was only because he couldn’t hold your hands anymore.

In the stark light of the bathroom, you finally looked him over. A bruise was fading over his left cheekbone, and there was a streak of blood going up into his hairline. If there had been a cut there, it was healed enough to be unnoticeable. He seemed no worse for wear, but you still asked, “Does it hurt anywhere else? Anything I should be careful around?”

He shook his head but it was slow, hesitating. You waited, until finally he took your hand and placed in over his right side underneath the water, just at the bottom of his ribs. “Anything broken?” you asked. He shook his head. “Just bruised?” A nod. “Okay. That’s good.”

After that, the bathroom was quiet except for the splashing of water and your murmured directions. Tip your head back, baby. Lift your arms up a little now. Lean forward for me. His movements started quick, jerky. Water splashed over the side of the tub when he lifted his leg too fast. But as you dragged a washcloth over his skin, ran your fingers through his hair, he calmed. He became slower, languid. Towards the end, he even helped rinse himself off. He met your eyes easier, too, when you stepped out of the tub first and dried off with one of the towels. When you prompted him to do the same, he did it on his own.

Tub drained, towels hung up, and both of you dressed in the softest clothes you owned, you led him by the hand back out into the bedroom. He stood taller now, not trying to fold in on himself. Something in your chest loosened when he almost returned the smile you gave him. “You want to go sit on the couch, or do you want to get into bed?” you asked.

He took the lead and tugged you over to your bed, waiting at the foot of it for you to put away the magazine still laying open and pull back the covers. He got in first, laying on his side facing the wall while you wrapped yourself around his back. Cradling him into you, you ran a hand over his chest in slow passes. As the last vestiges of tension left his body, as he sunk into the bed and into your arms, you couldn’t help pressing your forehead into his back.

Your heart broke for him in these moments, but they also gave you great comfort. That you could do this for him, that you could give him this, meant everything to you. There was one more thing to do before you both drifted to sleep for a few hours. “I know you did as much as you could today, Stevie. And it was enough. Bucky told me you saved a little boy today; I’m so proud of you. And I’m proud that you let us help you when you’re struggling. You’re so strong, baby. Even when you don’t feel like it. I’ll be here to remind you, every damn time.” When you heard the first sniffle, felt the first shudder under your fingertips, you pulled him closer to your chest and kissed his shoulder.

The next time you awoke, it was almost dark in the room. The two of you had shifted in your sleep so that now you lay with your back to his chest. It was warm in the room with both the blanket and Steve wrapped around you, and one of your arms was asleep. You tried to move as slowly and delicately as possible to get comfortable without waking your bed partner. Steve let out a breath that tickled the back of your neck and you squirmed in his arms. It earned you a huff of laughter. “You’ve been awake this whole time! Just watching me struggle,” you accused in a whisper.

“It was cute,” he said, his voice cracking from disuse. You wiggled again until he relented and lifted his arm so you could turn around and face him. He was staring at you, eyes soft. “Hi you.”

“Hey Stevie.” You reached up to run a hand through his hair, pushing away from his face. “How are you feeling?”

He nudged your hand, now still in his hair, so that you continued making gentle passes with your nails. “I’m okay, better.” His own hand reached up between you so that he could cup your cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

#tpromptsachallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #my writing #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Marvel Avengers #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers

[kaunis-sielu]

In The Back of the Cab (Lyft)

For @tilltheendwilliwrite 7.5k challenge, thanks for letting me join!

Hey darlin’ just wanted to let you know I’m home safe and sound. Just exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow?

Steve has sent the text before dragging his tired body into the shower. He can’t stand to go to bed covered in the sweat, dirt and general grime of a mission. After a quick shower he checks his phone and sees a message from you.

Thank you for letting me know you’re home safe. See you tomorrow.

He climbs into bed then, and closes his eyes. But sleep doesn’t come, his bedroom is still too hot, even with the fan going so he kicks the sheets off of the bed. There’s some more tossing and turning before Steve is laying on the bed, arms spread out to his sides, feet spread wide. You’d call him a starfish if you were here, then uselessly try to shove him over so he wasn’t taking up your side of the bed too. He’d roll so he was laying on top of you and you’d laugh and try to move him again with an exasperated huff. But he wouldn’t move, not until you’d given up then he’d kiss you and slide you onto his side of the bed just to have you close and you’d both fall into a content sleep. Steve can’t help the smile on his face as he thinks about exactly how the scene would play out. He sighs heavily then looks over at the clock on his nightstand, it’s just before one in the morning but knowing you, you’re probably still awake. He grabs his phone and before he can think better of it calls you.

You answer on the second ring. “Steve? You okay?”

“Yea darlin’, just can’t sleep.”

“Wanna talk for a while?” You ask and he can hear you moving around.

“You don’t mind?”

“Never.” You tell him but when he stays silent you continue, “I’m just painting so I’m going to put my headphones in so I don’t have to hold the phone. You wanna talk or should I?”

“Can you?” He asks and you give a small hum before launching into a description of the painting that you’re working on. This isn’t the first time he’s needed this after a mission and you, being the saint you are, always comply.

“Do you think we could video chat?” He asks, a sudden urge to see you coming over him. He should’ve just gone over, maybe he still could.

“Oh, I can’t.” You tell him and he can hear the embarrassment in your voice.

“What did you do?”

“I may or may not have dropped my phone off my balcony yesterday.” You admit and Steve laughs full belly laughs. Your ability to break technology has put Tony to the test in more ways than one. “Everything is all cracked and fuzzy on the camera but everything else works.” You continue over his laughter, “How mad do you think Tony’s gonna be?”

“I think exasperated is a better word Darlin.” Steve says through his laughter, “you wanna bring it by tomorrow? See if he can fix it?”

“Honestly what did he expect? It’s made out of glass!”

“The rest of us manage.”

“The rest of you are also superheroes so you’re clearly playing the game at a higher level than I am!” You argue but he can hear the smile in your voice. “Hey, I’m gonna take a quick shower. Do you want me to call you back?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Never.” You assure him, “talk to you in like fifteen.”

“Love you Darlin’.”

“Love you too.” He hangs up then and decides in that moment to head over to your house. If he hurries he can be there before you’re out of the shower. He grabs a pair of jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket out of his closet and after dressing puts on his boots. He’s taking the bike and you’d scolded him before for not wearing proper footwear. He makes it down to the garage in record time and pulls out of the tower and into traffic. Now he just needs to get to your place before you’re done with your shower because he knows that you’ll be able to tell he’s not in his room.

Traffic is a nightmare, Steve does maybe one or two illegal moves to get there faster but when he hits a red light there’s not much he can do. He’s about halfway to your place when he glances at a passing Lyft and his jaw drops. You’re in the back, looking as pretty as a picture, your bottom lip between your teeth as you look anxiously ahead to try and see what the hold up is. As your car pulls away Steve whips his bike around and follows, why are you in a Lyft? You said you were going to take a shower. Were you coming to see him?

Steve chases your Lyft for three blocks before you hit a red light, he watches as you lean forward and say something to the driver, Steve takes the moment of distraction to pull up next to your car, he flips up the visor of his helmet and leans onto the open window ledge.

“Hey Darlin’ where you headed?” He purrs and your head whips around. Irritation is evident on your face but it quickly changes to surprise then pure joy.

“Steve!” You cry before scrambling to the window and throwing an arm around his neck as you hang halfway out the window.

“Hi darlin’. Where ya goin’?”

“To see you of course.”

“Ma’am? The light is green so you need to be either in or out.” The driver calls and you look at Steve for some help, he chuckles and pulls you through the window and onto his bike.

“Got everything?”

“It was just me and my bag.” You tell him gesturing at the black bag at your hip.”

“I’ve got it from here. Thanks!” Steve calls through the window at the driver who pulls away and Steve moves his bike off of the road with you sitting sideways on his lap. Once he’s safely on the side of the road he yanks his helmet off and presses a needy kiss to your lips. You melt into him and he doesn’t know why he thought waiting to see you tomorrow was a good idea, already he feels more at peace.

“Can you imagine,” you muse softly, “how confusing it would’ve been if you hadn’t seen me and we both got to the other’s place and no one was there.”

“I probably would’ve thought something happened.” Steve admits, he’s always a little worried someone is going to find you and use you against him.

“I have a solution.” You tell him carding you’re fingers through his hair.

“What’s that?”

“Move in with me. You’ll have a safe space to go and we won’t risk any mix ups.”

“Or you could move in with me. Where it’s safer.”

“I’m not moving into the tower.” You tell him, “but I will agree to tighter security at my place.” Steve thinks it over, it would be nice to have a place away from the tower, you live in a quieter suburb, away from the noise of the city.

“Deal.” He says and you grin broadly up at him pressing a kiss to his lips, when you pull away you give him a cheeky smile and say,

“Well then, Steve Rogers take me home.”

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[bolontiku]

“The Sentinel”

One Shot

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1618

A/N: for @tilltheendwilliwrite​ 7.7k follower celebration. Ya fucking deserve all the good shit in life ILY XD

Image Prompt:

From the first moment you exist, that first intake of breath, when you first register the touch of another being, the first thought you have.

You are a Sentinel. 

There is only one reason you were made. 

Only one.

You are to guide.

A millennia of watching over those that could not protect themselves. Of guiding them. Watching as they made war, as brother killed brother, mother killed daughter, strangers saving others. 

There is no emotion attached to it but that of duty. You are duty bound to see to their safety as they follow the path they are taking. Communication for us known as sentinel is on a different level. We know what we are to do, just as they know they are breathing. There is no conscious thought to it, it just is. We have no real names, yet we know each other. Some of us take names. 

We know where the others are, come across each other every now and then. 

We also know when one of us is no more. 

**

The mortal assigned to me is reckless, he is sure of himself and as he runs into war I feel a sense of pride. There is no need to worry, he can handle himself. 

He laughs with the men that accompany him, or is it the other way around? I watch as deep blue eyes shut, white teeth flashing in the light of the fire as he laughs heartily. Teeth flashing bright, a genuine grin spread across his features. Something shifts inside, I look away.

My kind move easily without them seeing us, we live and breathe on a different plane, a different existence so close yet so far. For those of us losing our place, we disappear quietly, for those of us that have failed, we turn to stone. Neither is preferable but it seems our existence is coming to an end. We are needed less and less, their belief in us is wavering.

Reaching out a finger I run it along his sharp jawline as he rests. He is interesting, not like others I have dealt with. Dark hair, tangled in places, warm brown mixed with copper from the sun, tanned skin. Pale scars stripped over his forearms and here and there on his lean battle hardened torso. Once he was small and lithe, grew into these muscles.

Those blue eyes are open, staring right at me as I look back at his face, it’s startling, to be seen by one like him. 

"Who are you?" he rasps quietly, deep blue eyes peering up into mine.

I've listened to his voice for so long, to hear him whisper, so close- 

It takes a moment to shift the veil, slip back into my own plane, slipping back into the shadows as he scrubs at his eyes sitting up as quickly as he can. Staring at where I had stood he shakes his head, certain he was seeing what was nothing but shadows.

**

"Did you know there are more ways to skin a rabbit than one?" He has come to do this. Speaking to himself every chance he gets, his men were unnerved at first. Believing that he had lost his mind, especially when he told them of the angel he had seen. 

Angel.

Mistaken human beliefs. 

He shifts subtlety, his charge looks at where he stands, does he see him? The blond purses his lips, perhaps he had become too familiar with the humans. Was that possible?

We serve no deity. We are here to ensure the mortals do not destroy too greatly, that they not lose their way. Steer them in the correct direction. There are fewer of us left though. Blinking out like a star in the night, quick and only known to others like us. 

"-ame?" I blink and stare at the man, focusing back on him rather than the surroundings he chose to ignore, more than likely due to having so many of his men around. Dark long locks hanging and framing his strong face. "I think my angel should have a name? But nothing normal? What would it be? Maybe you can visit me in the quiet of the night while I dream and you can tell me. I won't share it with another." He looked thoughtful for a moment, “even if it is a boring name, I should like to know it.” He snickered, others watching shook their heads, he spoke to himself but was unmatched on the field, and so long as he made good calls, as the men came back home to fight another day, who cared?

Humans. 

Always looking to name those they think are pets. 

What is in a name?

Especially for a sentinel?

Rolling his eyes the tall blonde crosses his arms over his broad chest, watching as the men make camp, talking over one another. There is war to see to in the morning. He easily dwarfs all the men, wings spanning the length of four of these men if they stood shoulder to shoulder on either side of him. He folded them behind his back, tucking in close, shoulders shifting with the movement. Baby blue eyes watched as his charge made his way to his own tent, he followed, easily slipping between the mortals around him. 

He stood beside pelts that made up his bed, turning when the wind shifted the flap of the tent. Deep blue eyes scanning the small area, "I know you're here, I can feel you." He licked his lips, eyes darting back and forth in the silence, he hung his head after a moment, hand scrubbing at his face. "I may not come back tomorrow, I want to see your face? If you are with me… just once more?" 

He felt ridiculous as the silence stretched on, tumbling into the pelts and letting sleep take him.

He was fast and deep in slumber when the Sentinel sat by him. 

**

War is disgusting. 

Dirty, filthy, bloody. 

There is no man that dies not cry the name of a female as they fall, be it the name of mother or wife, perhaps both.

He was beautiful. Striking his enemies down with his war cries, color painted across his face, beautiful. Muscles shifting with strength and power as he made his way across the field. Tonight, perhaps tonight he would give him his name...   

Beautiful. 

One job, guidance. 

He felt the hit, the way the blade cut into his abdomen, the feel of the ground underfoot. 

Deep blue eyes stared up at him as he knelt in the blood soaked ground, “you’re here.”

“Do not do this.” He spoke firmly, used to others listening to him when he spoke in that fashion.

That grin spread so easily across his lips, even as his blood soaked into the ground, warming his skin, the body he held cooling. “I knew you were beautiful.”

“Steve.”

Brows caught together before his expression cleared, “Bucky.”

“Bucky…”

The silence was familiar. This was his charge. And this was the end.

Silence filled the world around him, so this was what it was like. The weight in his chest filled him, spreading to his gut, arms weighing down heavily as he bent over him. He could protect him in his last moments. The war raging on, screams and clashing of iron clanging through the air. He felt his limbs weighing down, he stretched his wings out once more, circling them protectively around their bodies for one more moment, the last feeling of freedom. It escaped with the quiet sigh of his breath. 

His wings weighed down, silk feathers turning to stone. It shocked him to find his charge turning with him, and it comforted him as his world began to darken. At least in this he could not fail. Eyes closing as he held his charge, his Bucky, they would not be alone.

**

It was a dare. 

A very stupid dare. 

His classmates laughed as he posed by the statue. They egged him on, daring him to kiss the statue as they snapped selfies and shot pictures off, quickly posting to social media. James laughed refusing, outside under the weather for so long, birds passing and what other wildlife had touched it. He wouldn't dare!

A gargoyle leaning over a human. 

So ugly, but James had always loved the two. To him it was beautiful. The story was that the campus had been built around it, but James knew someone had to have commissioned it. Statues didn't just appear.

And now it was late, he had been on his way back to his apartment, after a study session at the library. He stopped and looked up, after lighting a cigarette, “wish someone loved me the way you loved him,” he cracked, dropping to the base of the statue to rest for a moment. Flicking the rest of the cigarette he sighed heavily. 

It was stupid.

Still he found himself climbing back up, leaning between the two figures and pressing his lips to the quiet frown the artist had put there. 

James snorted as he dropped back down. “Fuckin’ stupid.” He kicked at the ground as he stepped away, and looked back when he heard something crack loudly. “The-” he jumped back as stone fell to the ground by his feet, startled. James felt his heart jackhammer against his ribs as the figure moved, shuddering and shaking. The lover disappearing and James stared into baby blue eyes as wings expanded and stone broke, chipping away under the flutter of feathers which swung out and upwards before settling back and shimmering into nothing. James felt his hands shake, as the blond pinned him with his stare.

“Bucky?”

#the sentinel #steve rogers #tpromptsachallenge #james bucky barnes #avengers au #marvel

[anika-ann]

Tall as the Skyline, Roots Like a Tree (S.R.)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     

Word Count: 11,150 (oh, oh no)

Summary: You are one step from officially becoming a SHILED agent. Involved in a secret relationship with Captain America, you feel like the world might lie at your fingertips. Until it doesn’t because of your stupid inexplicable phobia.

Steve’s friend might be able to help… except it would take an open mind and a huge leap of faith on your part.

You wonder… how much can one endure to get where they want?

A/N: for a challenge hosted by @tilltheendwilliwrite​​. Congratulation to your rightfully earned milestone! Your writings are a work of wonder and you deserve evry single one of those followers *✧･

Prompt: Phobias - What if your phobias are based off how you died in a past life.

Warnings: !! Some might be extremely upsetting I’m afraid:  - elements of horror, talk about phobias (dogs and needles), character death (past lives), use of lethal injection, mention of murder, canon-typical violence (brief), swearing… French and fluff 

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ 

For the briefest moment, you allowed yourself to smirk as the door to the lab slid open, shuffling along the bodies two unconscious guards.

You knew cockiness was an enemy, but you the security system yielded after less than a minute of work. Was that supposed to be… hard? You guessed that taking the class that called anything but Hacking 101 bore fruit after all.

Also, you could smirk all you wanted – that obnoxious facemask you wore as a security measure might be obnoxious, narrowing your field of vision, but hiding your expression was a sweet perk of it.

Your smile slipped upon seeing the lab, upon being reminded of how much you hated the environment. The three scientists and two more guards staring at you did not help.

The alarm started blaring instantly.

Before the guards near the door could draw their guns, you sprang forward, kicking one of them to his knee and elbowed his face, causing him to fall to one knee with an unmistakable ‘crack’ in the joint. You twisted his gun from his right hand, using him as a shield as the other one fired his weapon.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the scientists gather by the wall, opening a small vault and placing a container that was doubtlessly that container there. Shit.

The first guard fell to the ground and you quickly aimed at the other one’s arm. He yelled and grabbed at his wound as crimson painted his already dark sleeve black, but didn’t release the weapon. Grimacing, you fired again, this time with more success. The gun clanked as it fell on the ground and you strode towards your opponent rapidly, knocking him out with a well-aimed punch to his temple before he could use the knife he pulled out from his sheath.

You turned on your heels, only to see the scientists had hogged improvised weapons; two of them armed themselves with those round flasks and started throwing them at you. You quickly ducked, swearing out loud when one of them grazed your arm. Luckily, you could barely feel the sting of the shards, barely sparing the injury a glance, crouching behind a counter instead.

Firing without much aim, you managed to hit something behind them, sending them to the ground as they tried to avoid the spray of sparks flying from the machine.

The third one, the only one with grey hair, was the one who nearly stopped your heart when he grabbed a dark bottle of something. You gulped in fright; you definitely didn’t want to be hit by that, whatever was the content.

Focus. Breathe, you chastised yourself mentally, narrowing your eyes at the last man standing, the senior scientist readjusting his hold. The moment was enough for you.

Two shots rang in the lab, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a scream. You peeked from your hideout, seeing crimson staining the snow-white lab coat, while the man tried his best to discard his stained shoes – or what was left of them – without touching the chemical with his bare hands.

Checking on your surroundings, making sure everyone else was still down, you paced to the scientist, grabbing a metal platter on your way, unceremoniously striking him in his head. He dropped to the ground and your path clear at last.

The vault made you sweat a bit, approximately two minutes passing before you managed to crack it. But here you were, pulling your gloves on – and you carefully extracted the container with three vial.

This time, you allowed yourself to smile fully.

“Bingo,” you mumbled to yourself, satisfaction rumbling deep in your chest.

The Sigma virus. Friggin’ jackpot.

Wasting no more time with revelling in your victory, you headed to the exit, container in one hand, gun in the other, just to make sure.

The sudden vice-strong grip on your ankle took you by surprise.

You weren’t proud of it, but you nearly yelped at the sensation, instinctively jerking your foot to free yourself as your gaze shot towards the attacker.

All of sudden, the world spun, your heartbeat skyrocketing, loud pounding echoing in your ears.

It was only one of the younger men in a lab coat, easily to be ridded off, unlike a guard, except-- except-

You felt your knees wobble, your chest constricting so tightly that when you tried to breathe in, it hurt. The gun slipped from your hand as did the container at the sudden wave of faintness.

No, no, no, please no--

The tip of the long needle rested against your calf, thick enough to pierce through your tactical suit, the liquid in it crystal clear, glimmering in the fluorescent light-

Your stomach made a quick somersault, your ribcage aching, darkness swimming in front of you-- it embraced you almost peacefully, as did the feeling of a free fall and then… then you felt nothing.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

A dull ache pondered at the back of your head, rush of blood in your temples, as you slowly realized you were lying on something soft – relatively soft –, dim lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. With each second passing, memories of what happened poked at your brain, causing you to groan.

Fucking shit, of course it would happen to you.

You passed out during your final exam – one that would officially saw you as a SHIELD agent. You royally fucked up.

Your heart raced, the headache only growing more intense with your anger rising. You were raging, in fact, the feeling bitter on your tongue, heavy in your stomach.

You had just ruined your shot at your dream job, because of a stupid fear of needles. There you were; a badass wannabe SHIELD agent, afraid of a harmless pointy object.

Just recalling the ugly thick thing brought nausea that told you the item was as far from harmless as you could imagine, but that wasn’t the point. The content of the syringe could be pure water for all you cared; you still fell apart like a house of cards under the slightest breeze, only seeing the needle too close to your body – and it meant that you failed.

Fuck needles. Fuck you.

“Hey, you with me?” a male voice asked, so gentle and careful it made you want to cry, startling you all the same, because him being here – wherever exactly ‘here’ was – was the last thing you expected.

“What are ya’ doin’ here?” you asked, throat unpleasantly dry, your tongue feeling like sandpaper, sticking to the roof of your mouth. In response, warm fingers closed around your bicep, shortly squeezing.

Your eyes snapped open, surprised by the touch; every minute ever since you had come clear about your mutual attraction, about your feelings for each other, you had tried to keep physical contact – or any contact at all – on minimum, at least in places where it could bring unwanted attention.

After all, Captain America had no business dating a to-be SHIELD agent. Better yet, the said to-be agent should not as much as try pursuing a relationship with Captain America.

But here you were, four months in, four months since your first date that left you with no doubt that you were quickly falling for the man behind the shield, exactly one person besides you and Steve knowing about it for they had eyes of the sharpest female spy known to the world.

And now Steve was here, by your bedside, touching you, no less-- well, not anymore. However, his concerned blue eyes fixed on your face still spoke volumes. One corner of his lips rose in a lopsided smile.

“Well, I’m checking on one of my best recruits. I was worried a bit,” Steve explained as if it was clear as day. Then, he sobered up a little. “No one is in the room. What they can’t see doesn’t hurt them… or us.”

You smiled at him weakly, shifting in the bed, testing the strength in your arms so you could sit up. It was embarrassing really – hell, it was maddening.

You couldn’t believe you had done that. You had passed fucking out. Because of your stupid phobia of needles. It had been in you since you could remember, ever-present. Most of the time, you could deal with it somehow, distracting yourself, making a deal with your hospital attendant to use peroral medication… or to simply made sure you were out of consciousness when needles couldn’t be avoided.

You weren’t a complete idiot; you knew it posed a problem, especially considering your career choices, but nothing seemed to work, any kind of therapy, not even exposure therapy. And you weren’t really into hypnosis, the idea of someone having power over your mind truly terrifying.

What drove you even crazier though was that you couldn’t recall why you should freak out at the sight of a needle alone in the first place. Your fear was absolutely laughable and you hated it from the bottom of your heart. However, that didn’t change the fact it was there, seeped deeply into your bones, just a glance at a damn needle causing your heart to hammer in your chest.

And seeing that-- that thing near you, the man’s finger ready to pump the whatever in you-

You trembled at the intense shiver that ran down your spine, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Steve’s voice snapped you from your trance, salvaging you from the spiral of self-depreciation and unpleasant memories.

“How do you feel?”

You almost wanted to scoff at the routine question, no matter how valid one it was.

“Tired. My ego is hurt. I’m mad at myself. Kinda glad you’re here,” you listed, answering honestly, unable to resist the pinch of sarcasm.

Steve smirked, yet his gaze remained kind.

“I’m kinda glad too… and hey, don’t be mad. You can’t help it. You did your best and from what I saw, you were absolutely amazing. I’m sure Cortez will still clear you for service.”

His optimism and support would be sweet hadn’t you been a realist.

“Steve, I literally passed out in the middle of a mission to retrieve vials with a dangerous virus. I’m pretty sure I dropped the container, actually,” you deadpanned, earning a grin. What was so funny?

“It didn’t break.” Okay, now you understood. But still. “You were about ten seconds from the end of the simulation. You might not pass with flying colours, but I have a firm belief that you will.”

You pondered for a second, staring at Steve’s expression; he was genuine in his effort to cheer you up, but also appeared perfectly serious on a professional level. He meant what he said. Against your will, a flicker of hope fluttered in your chest – and you could tell he noticed the change, the blue of his eyes diluted by a green twinkle of joy.

“If you say so…” you mumbled, now fully seated up, scooting so your back was resting against the headboard just in case your body betrayed you again.

“I say so. How about staying at my place tonight?”

You hesitated for a moment, weighting up your options; no matter the ray of hope he had provided, you had no doubt that your failure would come back to haunt you. Which meant that you would sulk at home, stuck with wanting to punch things, but being too exhausted to do so, because hello, passed out, and with crying yourself to sleep, possibly with a tub of ice-cream. Or you could do all that in Steve’s arms, which sounded more pleasant for sure, except it meant he might see a side of you he wasn’t ready for – and you weren’t ready to show him.

Steve’s eyes never left your face, hypnotizing, patiently waiting for you to think it through; but you did notice the minute fall of the corners of his lips when you hesitated a minute too long.

Oh no, you don’t.

“Sounds great,” you blurted out, a tired smile finding its way on your face as well, quickly turning brighter when Steve’s face lit up again. How could you even think about saying no? “Where can I find a doctor to tell them I’m completely fine and ready to sign discharge papers?”

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

An hour later, you were meeting Steve in the underground car park, relieved to find it empty except for your boyfriend. You slid to the front seat, softly returning his barely audible ‘hey’. The ride was silent, something heavy hanging in the air, something neither of you wanted to address; Steve was clutching the wheel tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white, but you didn’t find the courage to comment on it, wondering what that was about instead.

He had told you to meet him in the garage in an hour, saying that he only had one errand to run. It didn’t take you long to figure out what kind of an errant, however the idea of calling him out on his actions caused your stomach to twist unpleasantly.

You hadn’t talked until you were snuggled on the couch, mindlessly watching the TV – what was on again? – a steaming mug of tea in front of each of you.

“He’s not letting me pass, is he?”

Steve’s fingers stopped their periodic motion on the skin of your arm, his body tensing, his heart speeding up under your cheek just enough for you to notice as you had nestled your head on his chest.

The absence of immediate verbal answer was an answer on its own, his body language all you needed to catch on.

The pit in your stomach was now gaping open, a gnawing pain; a voice in your head whispered your dreams were in shambles. Tears burned in your eyes, but you kept them at bay.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t deserve to pass anyway.”

Steve instantly straightened in his position, his palms sprawling on your arms to pull you up as well, leaning down a bit in attempt to catch your gaze. Vain effort, naturally.

“Hey now, that’s not fair. They used your biggest weakness against you. It was—it was a real low blow,“ Steve argued, squeezing your arms firmer, probably trying to reassure you and get you to look at him.

You had to swallow against the lump forming in your throat, your gaze flickering to meet his gaze only to avert it again, unable to bear it.

“Well, had it been a real mission, I’d be dead or captured, spilling the agency’s secrets. It’s only fair.”

You heard Steve gulp in the silence that followed – he couldn’t argue with what you said.

“They are gonna use it again if I retake. But I’ll be more prepared next time, knowing it’s coming. I’ll-“ you stopped in the middle of a sentence, shaking your head with a bitter chuckle. The words tasted almost disgusting as you knew you were bullshiting yourself completely.

You had tried to fight it, to get rid of it, to swallow your fear, to bury it so deep it would never crawl out again. You had tried so many times. But the phobia just wasn’t going away, that stubborn piece of shit-!

You hated it so much. You hated it, because it kept getting in your way to happiness. You had dreamed of being an agent since you were twelve, feeling it in your bones like a damn calling. It only intensified when you met Steve, the desire growing practically unbearable once you started dating.

This wasn’t only about your pride anymore. This was about him being proud of you. This was about you being worthy of being by his side. You would be no Avenger by any means, but you’d be a SHIELD agent.

The rational part of you argued that love wasn’t to be bought by titles; your gut was telling you that despite the relatively short time you and Steve were an item – a rather stealthy one, but still an item – Steve wouldn’t leave you just because you didn’t succeed. He would love you just the same had you been a SHIELD agent, a doctor, a librarian, an artist, a worker in retail, a mechanic, anything. He wouldn’t care.

However, another part of you suggested that people talked and you’d hate to have Steve deal with that shit. Not to even mention that eventually, it might lead to him leaving you nonetheless because of the constant pressure, his heart be damned. Captain America and a SHIELD agent simply had a better ring to it than Captain America and a failed SHIELD agent.

Goddamnit, you had to succeed, for both you and him, because he was the best damn man you had ever met and he loved you, if his words of two weeks prior and his behaviour were anything to go by. And you loved him too.

You couldn’t lose him and you couldn’t lose against something as ridiculous as a needle.

But how?

You groaned, pressing the heal of your palm to your temple, feeling your headache return. “I’ll deal with it. It’s a Tomorrow Me problem.”

Steve chuckled at your antics and pressed a light kiss to the top of your head, sweet and loving, one of his hands moving to cradle your cheek, causing your eyes to flutter close, a warm feeling of contentment sneakily replacing your agitation.

“And Tomorrow Me.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, blatantly staring at him.

Really? Tomorrow Him? What was he going to do? Out your relationship to Director Fury and start a battle for favouritism? No thank you.

You’d hate to be the woman who got somewhere because of her boyfriend’s connections. For one, it would be about as humiliating as passing out at the sight of a syringe. For second, it wouldn’t solve the problem of your phobia and – more importantly – the potential dangers it posed in the field.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Steve,” you hissed before you could think twice of it, before you could realize how absurd that thought was.

Steve would never do that; it went against what he believed in and he knew you’d never accept it.

Your jaw clenched when it hit you just how hurtful your words might have been, shame filling every fibre of your being, your gaze falling to your lap where your restless fingers fumbled together. You were acting like a little ungrateful piece of shit. Steve was only trying to help. He was only being here for you, declaring his support.

An apology already on your lips, his hand slipped under your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek before he applied the slightest pressure and raised your head to face him, his expression serious.

“This isn’t that,” he said, voice laced with severity. It caused your body feel as heavy as made of lead and yet unbearably weightless.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he added in a light joke then, his gaze locking with yours. “But I’d like to fight your battles with you. We’ll figure something out.”

He kept you in the beautiful prison of his eyes until you finally nodded, not voicing your doubts, not saying you were only convinced to a point.

You stretched out, catching the corner of his mouth with yours to express your gratitude and settled back into his chest with something dangerously resembling a smile tugging at your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words no less true despite the battle raging inside of your head. Of that you were certain. Of your future, not so much.

“I love you too.”

Despite the few stray tears that soaked into his shirt several minutes later, these were the last words spoken before you drifted off to sleep.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Sensation of a free fall and an instinctive jerk of your foot snapped you from your restless sleep.

Your eyes opened to the darkness, a groan dying in your throat when you came to yourself enough to feel strong arms around you, ones belonging to a man you loved and whose sleep you sure as hell didn’t want to disturb. Less so since you were obviously lying in his bed where he had had to move you since you had fallen asleep on the couch.

You couldn’t remember what you dreamed of, but it must have been nothing pleasant.

However, Steve’s arms winding around you tighter, bringing you close to his warm bare chest definitely did count as pleasant and you hoped for an early return to the dreamland.

The lightest of kisses landed in the crook of your neck, whispers barely audible, mumbled to your skin.

“You alright?”

You grimaced, snuggling further into Steve’s form, your hand settling over his on your stomach.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you,” you said at the very same volume, wishing not to ruin the peace of the night any further.

“You didn’t.”

His reassurance eased your guilt only for a moment – only until you realized that what he said carried two different meanings.

You shifted in his arms, rolling over to look at him, finding his face without any trace of sleep… as if he never even tried to get a shut-eye in the first place. His eyes were like reflectors even in the dark of his bedroom, intense blue shining with something you couldn’t quite grasp. In only fed the guilt suddenly gnawing at your chest, for not only waking him up, but actually keeping him awake the whole time, his serum-boosted brain even more restless than yours.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you apologized sincerely, your hand leaving the warmth of the sheets to lay on his cheek.

He smiled at you softly, covering your hand with his palm, bringing yours to his lips to show you he didn’t blame you, no matter how clear it was that you were the reason for him losing sleep. The guilt stabbed you again, your momentarily fully frantic mind racing, your lips quick to peck his shoulder, his sternum, his chin in silent apology.

“I’ve been simply… thinking. That’s not on you, mon cœur.”

Despite yourself, you smiled against his skin; his ‘mon cœur’ never failed to make you smile and feel warm all over. You had learned about his decent French when one of the recruits snapped at him, calling him an asshole in his mother tongue, clearly not expecting a comeback; a smart one, not necessarily a rude one, but certainly a hot one.

Steve then let casually slip a word or two in conversations, calling you his heart as if his French alone wasn’t turning you putty in his hands, and you were a goner.

“Nice attempt at distracting me,” you praised him, nestling your chin on his chest to face him. “What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

He hesitated, watching you for long moments as if assessing whether he should tell you or keep you in your blissful ignorance. You hoped that he wouldn’t shut you out, especially if his thoughts concerned you.

“I’m thinking… about Wanda,” Steve whispered finally, causing your heart to jump in your chest in surprise, your body going rigid. His eyes widened at instant, a groan leaving his throat, rumbling under your chin. “That came out so wrong— don’t look at me like that, it’s always you-“

“Sure am,” you snorted silently, relieved and actually rather amused. For all his smooth lines, he could be just as awkward as your next guy.

He swatted your rear lightly to shut you up, wordlessly telling you to quit being a smartass.

“Sorry. Please, go ahead, talk about your gorgeous Avengers recruit,” you encouraged him, earning a glare. “She’s gorgeous, you can’t deny that. And if not that, she’s definitely at least cute. Anyway. Speak up. I’m listening, Steve. It must be serious if it’s keeping you awake.”

He licked his lips, his gaze rising to the ceiling, his thumb drawing a circle on your bare arm.

“When we were fighting Ultron – Tony’s genius murder robot –, before Wanda joined our side… there was this fight and she… entered our mind, sort-of. She… she trapped us in visions, showing us our deepest fears. She offered a glimpse at things we were trying to keep buried inside for no one to see. The fear of… not being enough, not belonging, fear of missed chances that would never come back.”

You listened, gulping at the mentions of visions, of his very own fear lying in the open, simultaneously dreading where he was going with talking about it. You had a good idea that it wouldn’t get any more pleasant.

You squeezed his arm softly to ground him, noticing his breath hitching, determined to hear him out nonetheless.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you crooned sympathetically, even if it could barely make him feel any better.

He still seemed to appreciate it, gently threading his fingers through your hair, taking a deep calming breath.

“I’m here. The thing is, she showed us something else too, something more… primal, I suppose? Carnal? Like… fear of spiders, dark, drowning, things like that…?”

You stiffened, sensing that now he was much closer to hitting home that you liked. But you supposed he was about to make a point, so you tried to keep your voice neutral despite your curiosity about what that specifically meant for him.

“Okay?”

“You can ask what she showed me.”

You shifted in his embrace, frowning as he glanced at you – slightly uncomfortable, but definitely sincere.

“What… what did you see?” you asked lowly, your hand sliding down his arm to interlace your fingers with his.

His heart sped up under your chin, his Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still told you.

“I was torn apart by wolves. Dogs maybe, I’m not sure. I just remember claws and sharp teeth-“

“Jesus,” you breathed out at the vivid image appearing in front of your eyes, squeezing his hand tighter.

At the same time, your mind raced as much as his heart did.

Was Steve afraid of dogs? That would be… strange. For one, there was a reason he was compared to a golden retriever at times, but the idea was even more surprising because you had seen him interact with dogs on occasion. He was… maybe not enthusiastic exactly, but alright.

Why would he be scared of them anyway? Was there a story? A childhood memory perhaps? You of all people should know that phobias often had been caused by a negative experience in childhood – it was one of the reasons you hated yours so much, because you couldn’t pinpoint the moment that had caused it.

But this wasn’t about you. Not yet anyway, you guessed.

You remained silent as Steve gathered his thoughts, his eyes misted as he lost himself in a memory.

“I’m still not great with them, but I… manage. Wanda was the one to help me achieve that.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a jealous bitch of a voice whined. You shushed it mentally, trying to follow his train of thought. The conclusion was ridiculously clear.

“You think she can help me too,” you stated the obvious, finding Steve fully in the present again, gazing at you intensely.

“Only if you want to try. You… you don’t know what your fear is based on exactly, right? No concrete memory?”

You shook your head automatically. “No clue. One of my past therapists thought that it was the reason why our sessions weren’t working, not even after repeated exposure. We never got to the bottom of it.”

Steve was still watching you with almost unnerving intensity. There was more to what he was suggesting, you could tell. You only didn’t know what – was it about the nature of Wanda’s powers?

You wouldn’t lie – the idea of someone intruding your mind scared the hell out of you, but here you were… growing desperate to get rid of the only thing holding you back.

“She might be able to help then. But… eh, hear me out before passing judgement, okay?”

That caused you to frown deeply – wasn’t it what you were doing?

“Okay?”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, wavering again and you sighed, propping yourself on your elbow, staring down at him in utter confusion and with a healthy amount of expectancy.

“Some people believe that-- no, uhm- what Wanda did was that she made me see the very cause of my fear, the exact memory. And this might not be making any sense at first, but— I was seeing it from my perspective, it was definitely me… and my hand was— it was a black man’s hand.”

“…huh?”

Colour you fucking clueless.

What the hell was he talking about?

Steve grimaced helplessly, his explanation apparently not turning out the way he wanted to.

“Some people believe that our fears are based… on the way we died in our past life,” he finally admitted and you… froze.

Your eyes grew wide, your body tensing and for a brief second, you wondered if Steve had gone completely mad, because the look on his face was deadly serious.

Past life?

Seriously? Steve, of all people, the very rational guy desperate for factfulness, was talking about reincarnation?

What. The actual. Fuck.

Steve, the guy who had scientists pump his body with supersoldier serum – by needles, of all things, seriously, the procedure sounded downright terrifying and reading about it made you respect him even more –, a guy who survived being frozen thanks to science, was trying to convince you that past lives existed.

Your mind went entirely blank.

The worst thing about it was that he had a solid reason to believe this thing, that was if he was telling the truth and he had been able to lessen his fear. And if Steve believed something, then for the reasons you had listed to yourself, there must have been a damn good portion of truth in it.

It was just a lot to wrap your head around.

You cleared your throat, feeling Steve’s eyes burning a hole into your head as he awaited your reaction, possibly with dread, which was perfectly justified.

It sounded insane… but.

“So… let me get this straight. You think that the origin of my fear lies in… some past life of mine. A life which ended, because of a-- a needle?” you choked out, the words sounding even crazier when spoken out loud.

You shook your head, still processing the information when Steve confirmed it. “Well… yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You lowered yourself back to the cushions, rolling over to your back, staring at the ceiling instead. You could feel Steve fidget next to you nervously, his eyes still on you.

“You think I’m crazy.”

The corner of your lips twitched, your chest rising and falling calmly, the sentence easing the pressure that built there during his explanation.

“Well, yeah, but I knew that before you told me all that, so-“

“Hey-!“

You slapped your hand over his as it neared you, pinning it to the mattress and casting a grin in his direction, a strange feeling of contentment spreading through your body.

Maybe you fear wasn’t your fault. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that you needed help. Hell, even the great Steve Rogers, the bravest man you knew, had sought assistance – and then he had won.

Knowing that felt so damn liberating.

Mostly because maybe, just maybe, you had a chance of overcoming this. Maybe you could still become a SHIELD agent.

You were lying here in the bed, side by side, hand in hand, head turn to side, gazes locked, and while you were smiling, Steve’s lips slowly spread in a hesitant smile as well.

God, you loved this man so much, more than words could express.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Steve,” you said simply, but from the very bottom of your heart.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Does that mean you’re… willing to give it a shot?”

You shrugged, scooting closer to him and he eagerly opened his arms for you, contentedly wrapping you in his embrace again as you pressed a kiss to his sternum.

“Not gonna lie. It might be a very long shot and the idea of someone raking through my mind is… unsettling to say at least, but if you trust her enough to let her do that… I trust you, Steve. I trust your judgement and I believe you wouldn’t come up with something like this just for laughs. So yeah. I’m willing to give it a shot.”

His hand found its way under your chin to tilt your head back, chasing your mouth with his, sealing the deal with a surprisingly sensual kiss which turned into another and another… gradually growing lazier and sloppier until you settled for one last kiss goodnight, melting into each other like you belonged there and nowhere else.

Maybe you did – for all you knew, you could be lovers who reincarnated time and time again only to find each other across time and space.

The thought made you chuckle, the breathless sound escaping your lips before you finally fell asleep.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat on the couch, one you had taken after anxiously pacing the living room for what felt like forever. Steve had called Wanda the first thing in the morning-- well, almost the first thing, and she had agreed to meet you this very day, accepting the offer to be picked up after lunch.

One light meal later, because you could barely swallow anything with your throat tight and stomach twisted, and one unpleasant call later in which you learned you officially failed the exam, oh joy, here you were, waiting in Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn.

For the millionth time you thanked heavens for Steve wanting to have his own space outside the compound. You really didn’t want to deal with this near everyone and you weren’t certain you were comfortable with the woman you didn’t know at all in your crampy apartment.

The lock clicked and you jumped to your feet, instantly making your way to the door. You stopped in your tracks when you realized you would probably freak her out right from the start.

Better let Steve handle this part. And the introduction-

Shit, can she read my thoughts right now?!

Naturally, your mind suddenly filled with the most embarrassing moments of your life and you wanted to scream in frustration, mentally apologizing to the young ‘witch’.

Yep, still weird to think that.

One sweetly familiar and one foreign voice reached your ears, the female one chuckling silently and you just knew she heard every single one of your thoughts.

Well. Worse things had happened, you guessed.

You sighed, took a deep breath and tried to fix an inviting smile that wouldn’t seem too desperate and awkward as hell. You probably failed, but you would take what you could get.

“I still can’t believe Sam challenged you to a flying contest. I really thought he’s a sensible guy,” Steve said as they entered the common space and you wiped your sweaty palms to your jeans, searching his face first.

His lips were smiling, but if you looked into his eyes closely, you could read the hints of anxiety you felt yourself.

Your gaze shifted to his companion then; the pretty brunette with shade of red in her hair shrugged at Steve’s remark, smirking.

“Who am I to argue with him if he wants to have his behind handed to him?”

If you were being honest, you had been slightly intimidated at the mere idea of meeting the Scarlet Witch; however, you took an instant liking to her.

She was young and while her eyes carried pain of her complicated past, she radiated strength and positive energy, a glow of something extraordinary that had nothing to do with her powers, but more with her personality.

She met your gaze, smiling at you kindly and you shook yourself, registering Steve making his way to you, dropping a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hi,” he whispered and you returned the sentiment, brushing his hand before deciding to grab it firmly and squeeze in greeting.

“Hello, miss Maximoff. I’d say ‘welcome’, but I’m not sure I have the right since this is Steve’s apartment,” you rambled, mentally cursing yourself for it. You couldn’t just keep your cool, could you?

The woman only smiled wider as you went and offered your hand to shake along with introducing yourself.

“I appreciate the sentiment anyway. And please, call me Wanda. It’s nice to meet you. I only heard good things.”

You frowned slightly, trying to imagine how much Steve could tell her about you during the ride, when Wanda subtly pointed to her head.

Oh. OH.

What should you even say to that? She had seen you before and possibly knew things about you she didn’t ask for (was that how that worked, people throwing thoughts on her without her will, or-) without even meeting you.

You gulped and from the corner of your eye, you noticed a slight hint of red to Steve’s cheeks. Interesting.

“Likewise. Uhm… I’m sorry to meet you like this though. I—we barely introduced and… I’m already asking for your help,” you said apologetically, honestly ashamed for that. “I’m sorry.”

It might have been a mutual decision of Steve and you to lay low with your relationship, which meant postponing meeting his friends to later, however it didn’t change the fact you felt like you were using Wanda.

It was not the best feeling in the world. This was how low you had steeped-

“Please, don’t even worry about it. Steve’s… friends are my friends as well. I’ll be happy to try and help, more so to help people that make Steve happy.”

A twinkle of mischief appeared in her eye and Steve next to you cleared his throat loudly, rushing to be a good host.

“Anything I can offer you, Wanda? Water, tea, coffee…?”

You did not miss the pointed look he gave her and the beautiful creature she was, she grinned at him, amusement dancing across her face.

“Tea would be great. Shall we sit?” she beckoned to the couch and you nodded, asking Steve for a cup of tea as well. Coffee and talked about your phobia did not sound like a good mix after all. “Alright. Let’s see what can we do about your situation.”

Steve had told her most of the essential information, obviously including the fact you didn’t know when the phobia developed.

“Okay. Are you comfortable with me trying to reach out into your mind? To create a mental connection of sort?” she asked after a while, sitting in an armchair opposite to you, while Steve nestled next to you in respectable distance, not touching you at all, letting you choose how much of a physical contact you wanted.

You greatly appreciated both Steve and Wanda for respecting your boundaries and allowing you to push them whichever direction as you seemed fit.

Because having Wanda probing in your head was fucking terrifying.

Steve trusts her, you reminded yourself, and she gave you no reason not to trust her either. She was in fact so welcoming you could cry.

Wanda smiled at you patiently and you felt heat rising into your cheeks, once again realizing she could probably hear your hesitance as well as seeing it.

“Yes. Tell me what to do,” you decided, hoping you sounded at least twice as firm as you felt. “…that is if I need to do something.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if you did, I’m sure you would like that better too. Once you do what I say, you will feel certain nudge, my mind reaching out – please, try to let me in. Now I want to you to close your eyes and imagine a safe space. A truly safe space, somewhere you feel like nothing can touch you, can’t hurt you in any way, not physical one, not emotional one. Just a completely safe place,” she coaxed you gently.

With a deep breath, you eyed Steve, catching his supportive smile before following her instructions.

Your first thought was of your childhood bedroom. You were surprised how sharp the memory felt – probably an effect of Wanda’s powers.

You stood there, as if truly there, looking at your desk, papers with amateur doodles scattered all over it, and you couldn’t but smile at the memory of your notebooks being filled with little results of boredom. And then the angry male voice reached your ears, followed by a shout from a woman, and the illusion shattered just like the plate that hit the ground, causing your eyes to snap open to reality.

The intense weight on your chest startled you, the fights you had heard from the relative safety of your room during your early years crushing your ribcage with each breath you tried to take.

You met Wanda’s kind eyes, feeling Steve’s hand gently brush the back of yours which was gripping the edge of the couch.

The young witch shook her head lightly, your gazes locked with such strength you felt like she was staring into your soul through a looking glass – and boy, did you feel like Alice in wonderland yourself.

“There’s no rush,” Wanda assured you, voice low. “You don’t need to force it. Breathe in, breathe out. In and out, how many times you need. Close your eyes and try to remember. When was the last time you felt truly safe?”

Steve’s hand squeezed yours before withdrawing and leaving you to your own thoughts again as you took several calming breaths and let your eyes flutter shut.

You honestly had no idea why you had thought of your childhood first, when you in fact only felt safe once you left to pursue your dream career. You loved your tiny apartment much more – because it was your space, your safe space.

Your couch bought on extra sale because of the horrendous colour, that bookshelf that remembered better days, but still didn’t yield under the weight of your books, the three pitiful plants you got only to shut your friend up… you walked to the poor excuse for a kitchen cabinets, involuntarily smiling at the mismatched door that your neighbour was able to get you and installed after the original one nearly knocked you out as if fell off without warning.

Your fingers traced the counter when a pair of strong hands landed softly on your hips, an arm sneaking around your stomach, a kiss pressed into the crook of your neck. It didn’t startle you, a sense of comfort enveloping you instead, Steve’s lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Tu m’as manqué, mon cœur,” he admitted and you couldn’t but melt into his form, a content smile tugging on your lips.

“Missed you too.”

His grip grew stronger before he allowed you to turn in his embrace so you could give him a welcome kiss. He had been on a mission for a week and you somehow found yourself at that stage in a relationship where you felt comfortable enough to admit you fell hard for each other, while retaining that sense of your time together being precious and too limited no matter how much of it you actually spent together. Or at least that was what this was for you – judging by the satisfied smile painted on Steve’s lips when you withdrew to catch your breath, the feeling was mutual.

“…though that phrase is still not making a damn sense,” you complained, earning a chuckle and another kiss, his arms lifting you so you barely stood on your tiptoes.

You were an independent and a dare to say badass woman, but hey, you would not deny that such display of strength made your toes curl.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked once he set you back down, though he never released you from the cage of his arms.

The sudden dull pressure in the back of your head surprised you, but wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

More than anything else, it brought you back to reality a little; this was nothing but a memory. Steve appearing as if his motions slowed down only proved that.

Unsure what to do, you massaged the back of your head and stepped back, Steve’s arms easily falling; his gaze remained fixed on your though, patient. A game your mind had built, you realized, a mirage created with the witch’s help.

Let me in, Wanda had said. Yeah well, a manual to follow would be nice.

Willing yourself to relax as much as possible, you felt a slight pop and the pressure disappeared.

Before you could question it, a voice sounded somewhere, close but yet far.

“Thank you for letting me in,” Wanda said simply, causing you to jump few inches above the floor.

But the Steve in your memory nodded and you focused on breathing in and out, trying to take in his comforting presence in the safety of your apartment rather than focusing on Wanda, the intruder you invited.

The thought of the witch seeing this however felt anything but comforting – embarrassment filled your being instead. A part of you couldn’t quite believe Steve, your boyfriend of barely four months, belonged to your safe place as much as anything else.

You were honest with each other, but how would he react if he knew that? What Wanda must have been thinking?

“There is no reason to be ashamed,” her voice reassured you softly, sounding as if she was smiling a bit. This really was awkward. “I won’t tell on you either way, but you must know you are on his mind often. I believe I was being clear on that earlier. He would be – and he should be – honoured by this. Plus, it’s still your apartment, he’s just an addition.”

Letting her words sink in, you noticed a strange red glow by the edge of your couch, just a flicker of something that certainly didn’t belong – and sure as well wasn’t making you feel safe.

In fact, simply watching it caused your stomach to somersault.

“Think of your fear for a bit. What you see is a rift to the world you’re trying to reach.”

Balling your hands into fists, you gulped and reluctantly did as Wanda told you.

Needles. Christ, why.

The glimmer of red energy pulsated, growing in size considerably – and with it, so did the cold sensation in your stomach. Your breathing picked up, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gentle fingers curled around your wrist, causing you to look at Steve, having been ignoring him for a while. He swept his thumb over the sensitive skin on your inner wrist, a smile spreading on his lips when your eyes met.

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged you and you briefly wondered if this was your imagination, Wanda’s doing or actual real-life Steve touching you.

Whichever it was, it grounded you, your ribcage expanding easier despite the pain.

The rift stretched to your height, its powerful presence feeling like a punch in your solar plexus, making your skin crawl, your body shrinking into itself. The wave of nausea that hit you didn’t help either.

Your hand was lifted, lips brushing your palm before letting go.

“You’re going to hate this, but I need you to touch it,” Wanda instructed you and indeed, you hated the mere idea of coming closer to that thing. But what other option did you have?

Steve smiled at you again, supportive and understanding, and you clenched your jaw, forcing your feet, suddenly feeling like made of lead, to move.

“Once you touch it, you’ll find yourself in the memory. Sadly, I can’t follow you there, but trust me – and trust Steve –, we will pull you back. It’s nothing but a memory,” Wanda explained and that truly did not ease your building anxiety at all.

You supposed it shouldn’t have, she was only stating facts, but the remark about her and Steve did give you strength as did looking around your apartment again.

All you had to do was to touch that-- weird thing… and relive your death. Death involving needles. Charming.

You took another shaky step, every fibre on your being screaming at you to run the opposite direction instead. Leaning onto the couch for support as your legs turned wobbly, you let the familiar sensation of the fabric sooth you.

You had to do this. You could do this.

You casted one more glance at Steve, who crossed the short distance you had walked and placed his hand on your shoulder, clearly not having any difficulty approaching the rift. It made sense, you supposed – this was your fear you were dealing with, not his.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his palm sliding down your back, its warmth so damn pleasant against the goosebumps that rose on your skin. “And you’ve got this, mon cœur.”

“Damn you,” you mumbled and that bastard had the audacity to chuckle and squeeze your hip.

“Go. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Easier said than done.

With a suffocating lump in your throat, you forced yourself to take the last step and reached out your trembling hand towards the pulsing red energy.

A scream ripped from your throat when that thing gripped you fiercely and sucked you in.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

The lights were bright, burning in your eyes as did the unshed tears. After the dark corridors you had walked with a man at each of your side, both shorter than you, and another man behind your back, the startling clinical white made you nauseous.

Or maybe that was just knowing the inevitability of fate. Bile rose to your throat, the world spinning, shadows of the hall following you like claws of death, already reading for you at the mere thought of what waited in this room.

You didn’t try to run; each of your steps felt too heavy for that.

You didn’t try to break free of the men’s hold on your veiny arms; they felt like made of lead, weak and clammy from the lack of sleep and sustenance.

You didn’t try to insist on your innocence anymore; there was no point in talking if words fell on deaf ears.

People always heard what they wanted to hear. People always saw what they wanted to see.

Truth was a matter of circumstances and death was the only certitude a man had.

The door fell shut behind your group of gloom, the white walls closing on around you, the hairs on the back of neck standing at attention. The icy tone of the room barely aggravated the cold seeped in your core, in your very bones. Each step echoed in the almost empty room, every breath – as much as your last would.

You had practised yesterday; you knew the drill. Enter the room slowly. Don’t look at the one-way glass as it might startle the high representative of state whose daughter you had (supposedly) violated and strangled to death. Lie down and let them strap you to the table.

When you had obediently sat down and one of the guards – Franz they called him, decent guy you thought – met your gaze, a warning in his eyes mingling with regret as you laid down.

Staring onto the ceiling, tears gathering in your eyes, your heart was beating its way out of your chest, anger, so much anger at the injustice once again battling with the feeling of resignation. Justice didn’t exist int his world; they had found their scapegoat. Your innocence virtually didn’t exist. Your testimony was a lie, everyone thought so.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the buckles at your feet, a torturously loud sound in the silent room and then your feet were restrained. Your chest right under your armpits came next; the guard fastened it harshly, so tight your eyes snapped open in surprise.

You stared into the eyes of a guilty man, a man whose face held no remorse for wrecking and taking two lives. You remembered the black orbits from the night you saw them widened with wildness, a savage pleasure gleaming in the dark, noticing your figure behind the beams.

Strange, you pondered. The restraint on your chest felt like a tickle in comparison to the pressure on your chest when you looked into those eyes, your breath hitching in your throat, suffocating weigh squeezing your lungs and heart; was this how it was going to feel? You had heard rumours.

Like a liquid fire running in your veins, slowly licking until it reached your heart. You wondered – who spread the tale? Everyone with this treatment met their death, didn’t they? Then how could people know?

Was it something made up so the inmates died a bit by bit, every minute before even feeling the pinch of the needles?

A violent shudder shook your whole body, but you didn’t think you moved at all.

Your limbs didn’t belong to you anymore as they uncuffed your wrists in order to strap them to the table instead.

God, it was so so cold- what was the last time you were warm?

Your eyes followed Adams’ hands, hands painted in invisible blood, invisible tonight as least, as they fixed the strap on your right wrist and moved to your head, jerking it so you faced the blinding light instead.

You couldn’t plead Satan to take the true killer anymore; you were out of time. You prayed instead.

You prayed for your soul to find peace and justice, for the light to engulf you quickly, before you could feel the fire in your veins in stark contrast to the ice in them present now.

Now I lay me down to sleep

To an eternal sleep. To death. This was your end. Tears ran down your cheeks, silent and useless.  Shame on a man who cries for himself – but you lied to yourself, just this one time, that you were crying for the unjust world where lies and deceit won over the truth.

I pray the Lord my Soul to keep

Your gaze blurry, your head restrained, you could still make up the needles piercing the skin of your forearms, attached to the bags on the IV poles. The liquid in them was clear, pure like water, seemingly so innocent – as much as the inmate on the table.

If I should die before I wake

It was a strange dichotomy – the numbness spreading from one side, the burning heat from the other. Your fingers twitched and closed into a tight fist at the sudden surge of pain, gnawing, blinding.

Oh God, please, please-

I pray the Lord my Soul to take

A scream filled the blank room, a sound so animalistic it couldn’t belong to a human being, deafening to your ears. You couldn’t breath as the fire burned its way through your arm, leaving ashes in its wake-

“-the fuck-“

“What’s-“

“Just--it! ---thing!”

The fire subdued as the world lost its colour, everything swallowed by blackness, a bleary image of a spasming arm with a glint of thin piece of metal flickering before disappearing altogether.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Your throat burned from the scream ripping from your its depth, a blurry image of a woman in front of you casing you to back out into the bed— no, you were sitting up now, the room wasn’t white, was darker-- the scream was definitely not male anymore, no, it was a female one, it was yours-

The room spun and disappeared, replaced by a sharp image of an apartment, your apartment, and you looked around frantically, catching a glimpse of a tall blonde figure in the corner of the room, your heart, hammering so painfully in your aching ribcage fluttering in relief. Your gaze swiftly returned to the man, like a drowning person to the sun glimmering on the surface of water.

Steve.

Your apartment and Steve.

Your name was being called silently and you realized that the scream had died down, only your harsh breathing remaining.

“You’re safe. Remember? Nothing can touch you here, no one can, not unless you let them,” Wanda’s voice soothed you, causing your eyes to flutter shut in respite, your knees giving out.

Despite having been standing several feet from you, Steve was suddenly there to catch you, scooping you into his arms, enveloping you in a protective embrace while you sobbed into his shirt, his soft voice whispering sweet nonsense, not saying a word of complaint about how desperately you were clinging to him, inhaling his aftershave and detergent and him.

You’re safe. I’ve got you.

Je te protègerai toujours, mon cœur.

I’ve got you, I’ve got you.

I love you.

When you opened your eyes again, the images blended together. His heart was beating vigorously against your cheek, his lips pressed into your hair, but you could hear Wanda moving around – you were in Steve’s apartment, back to reality.

Upon realizing that, you gripped him with all you had and whispered a shaky sorry, which only resulted in his embrace growing tighter.

It took you another hour to settle down enough to discuss what would be your next steps, ones that certainly wouldn’t be taken today.

“I know how hard this is to hear, but I won’t just magically snap my fingers to make it go away – I mean, I could, but no one can tell the consequences in the long run. It will take several sessions, short though, when we dull your very understandable fear a bit. You’re strong – I believe we can deal with this. Thank you for trusting me,” Wanda said nonsensically, as if she wasn’t the one helping you.

Even if her help so far felt entirely awful.

“Thank you, Wanda. Truly. It means a lot.”

“Thank you,” you echoed Steve’s words lamely and heard a hint of a smile in Wanda’s voice when she was leaving the apartment.

“You’re welcome. Get some rest. I can get to the compound on my own – I need to practise for the match with Sam anyway.”

Involuntarily, the corners of your lips twitched at the image of Wanda floating above the city and landing in front of Steve’s gobsmacked friend, cursing himself for challenging a witch. About thirty seconds later, you were laughing, practically doubled over with the force of it, tears still streaming down your face.

To be fair, you did deserve to be hysterical all you wanted.

Much later, you fell into an uneasy sleep, Steve’s voice laced with amusement and concern at the same time as he read to you about adventures of a young telekinetic girl, about her sweet teacher and the terrible headmistress bullying them both.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

You might have been fiddling with your fingers, anxious about what you were about to face, but you couldn’t’ quite shush the excitement spurting in you with each joyous beat of your heart.

You eyed Steve in search for silent support – or any support really – but if his expression was anything to go by, he was highly amused at your antics. The corners of his lips were twitching as he stared ahead, ignoring your very pointed glare.

You elbowed his ribs playfully, but made sure to dig you bone into him. Cocky little shit.

He actually chuckled at that, fully aware that you probably hurt yourself more than you hurt him, because his damn serum turned his abs into stone. A very hot stone in both senses of the word, a stone sensitive as hell when you ran your fingers over it (or your mouth, for that matter), but still.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he let out between his chuckles and you didn’t believe him one bit.

You knew that you were being a tiny bit ridiculous, but… he didn’t have to rude about it.

“Likely story,” you muttered grumpily, trying to recall just when had the anxious but fully supportive Steve turned into a laughing mess.

It must have been when you passed your fucking exam. Finally!

After weeks of Wanda working her magic on you – and of your work on yourself, being very brave and determined, as she had never forgot to mention, as did Steve – you had been able to retake your exam, the last one in the line of group missions and tests. You could have been done long before today, but truthfully, you couldn’t be happier with the result.

Besides passing your exams and officially becoming a SHIELD agent, you had learned how to control your phobia. Not entirely, but considerably, just enough to do your damn job.

Your dream job.

The fact that it meant you and Steve not having to be shy about your relationship anymore was an entirely pleasant bonus. By no means you had been shy when you succeeded – you had assaulted him right in front of Director Fury, jumping into your very secret boyfriend’s arms. Thank god for Steve’s reflexes, because while he had seemed utterly shocked at your lunge, he still hadn’t dropped you. Needless to say, you both had to collect your jaws from the floor when the director just snorted in amusement, a knowing look in his eye. Apparently, nothing escaped this man’s attention. It was almost funny, actually.

Naturally, with majority of your friend being off to missions, because they had graduated spy school at their first attempts, you were left with Steve to celebrate with; no complaints were filed though, celebrating in Steve style was very much glorious. One might say you even saw fireworks.

Anyway, since his friends were in town for once, he decided that the time had come for you to meet them, with not having to hide your relationship anymore and all that.

Hence you being worked up again; you were about to meet Steve friends. The Avengers.

You had every right to be slightly terrified. What if they didn’t like you? SHIELD agent or not, how would you face an angry Hulk? Or a demigod? Hell, Barton or Romanoff—okay, Romanoff at least knew you existed, occasionally catching your gaze in the corridor or during training, but-? And Wilson could fly in that get-up of his-! Not to mention the android!

Steve’s arm winded around your waist, pulling you to his side and spinning you to him until you were chest to chest. That did effectively snap you from your gloomy thoughts.

“You just defeated your phobia and showed everyone what a great agent you will make. You can handle a bunch of people with the same goal as yours,” Steve reasoned with you, smiling down at you widely, even dropping a kiss on your forehead. “Plus, they are excited to meet you.”

Was that supposed to make you feel better? Because your stomach dropped even lower and you sighed, meeting Steve’s eyes, soft and yet joyful.

His enthusiasm was infectious. Plus, you did become a SHIELD agent today… Steve had shown you his appreciating in many ways… plenty of reasons to be happy.

“What did you tell them about me?”

“All the good things. Stop worrying, they have to be nice to you anyway, it’s your day after all.” A smile spread on your face at the reminder and Steve’s arm tightened around you. “The moment we started to plan the reunion, they knew celebrating your big break would be on agenda.”

You leaned your head onto Steve’s chest contentedly and closed your eyes, showing him how sweet you thought he was being. In the back of your mind, you wondered just how long one elevator ride could be, even if it was to the top of the Avengers Tower, and if the AI running the building happened to slow it down just so you could try and calm your nerves.

Which was exactly why it took a moment for Steve’s words to truly register. Your eyes snapped open in horror and you quickly retreated, not missing the shit-eating grin forming on your boyfriend’s lips.

“Steve… when did you start planning this get-together?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes at him and swallowing the luckily unnecessary panic.

“Four days ago. Why?”

He knew damn well why!

You slapped his left peck with vigour, half-angry, half-moved by his stunt. He chuckled and placed his palm over yours, pinning it to his chest, shaking with hushed laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Steve!” you argued only half-heartedly, because to his utter luck, things worked out. “What if I have failed? That would be so-”

He removed his hand from yours in order to cradle your jaw. You wanted to be angry with him, you did. Furious, in fact, but he was making it really hard and you officially got your dream job today and- yeah, he was hard to be mad at, especially when he spoke with sincerity that took your breath away.

“I knew you wouldn’t. I had faith in my girl.”

Steve pecked your lips as you sputtered a curse, frustrated with your inability to chastise him properly when he was being charming and melting your heart with every word.

“You know, everyone keeps saying that you’re reckless…” you grumbled and one corner of his lips rose higher in a lopsided smile, twinkling eyes watching you with a blend of admiration and amusement and love and how could you resist him? “Punk…”

His fingers sneaked to your nape, pulling you in for a deep kiss; lips parting, tongues meeting just because you couldn’t get enough of each other and of the delight you tasted on each other with every kiss.

His arm just lifted you from the ground a few inches, causing your stomach to flutter in the most pleasant way, when the elevator doors slid open and a snarky comment welcomed you.

“Rude.”

You jerked away from Steve, startled, but the ball was in his court as he had to place you back on the ground. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment when your gaze fell on a smirking Tony Stark.

Well, shit. As far as first impressions went, this could have happened much better…

“You sure you want to celebrate here and not somewhere else?” the Ironman himself continued, gesturing his hand in a so-so motion and you wished to face hundreds of needles rather than him and the rest of Steve’s friend who had just got a free show. A rather PG one, but a show nevertheless.

“Stark, quit being a dick,” a female voice stuck up for you, rendering you speechless as it didn’t come from Wanda, but from Natasha Romanoff. “Congratulations!”

The rest of the team had various mixture of amusement and surprise written over their faces, but neither of them seemed hostile. In fact, they did look eager to meet you despite your dramatic entrance. Wanda smiled at you reassuringly from behind the android – Vision, you believed – and nodded, probably hearing your thoughts practically scream at her.

You smiled back at the witch before turning to the Black Widow herself.

“Thank you, Agent Romanoff,” you replied politely and a grin that told you that one day, you might even become friends, appeared on her face.

“You’re welcome, Agent 18.”

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ *✧･◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

S.R.masterlist

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Title taken from Halsey’s Haunting. Pics used are not mine, credit to original creators.

Also: yes, Steve was reading Matilda to our brave to-be SHLED agent as a comfort book.

Thank you for reading!

(If you at least a bit and you’re a fan of Wanda being awesome, please consider reading Walpurgis Night. It’s a result of rereading too much of T’s work anyway.)

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Tags:  @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​ @cxptain​ @patzammit​ @kayteewritessteve​

#tpromptsachallenge #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x you #captain america imagi #steve rogers #captain america #wanda maximoff #tw:death #tw:violence #tw:blood #tw:cynophobia #tw:trypanophobia #tw:needles #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #writing challenge #avengers #shield agent reader #sheild #avengers fanfiction #fluff #angst #elements of horror #long post

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Firebug and Freezer Burn

My entry for @tilltheendwilliwrite​ ‘s 7.7k follower (covid sucks) writing challenge. 

Clearly my time management (and mental health management) is lacking, but I figured I would post this anyway. 

Sorry. 

The pic on the right was my prompt, I added the one on the left.

PLEASE FORGIVE THIS SHITASS TITLE

WC: 3276

Warnings: Fire, cursing, panic, being ill, fluff who the fuck knows

The small suburban neighborhood evening was shattered by the fire engine sirens screaming toward the pillar of fire that had once been a family home. Neighbors who had called 911 huddled outside, speaking to responders as they arrived. The three person family living in the burning house hadn't been seen since the fire started, but as far as anyone knew, they had been at home earlier. The parents had picked up the little girl after school, and returned home like usual. On a normal night, they would have all been in bed by now, if not for the noisy terrier up the street, the fire may have spread farther. Tears burned in throats, and sobs were barely contained as smoke and ash stung sleepy eyes. Lucky. The neighbors were lucky, and they all felt it, the feeling increasing in strength as the minutes ticked by with no sign of the family.

There was practically nothing left of the house now. The supporting structural pieces were still standing, but drywall had been all but disintegrated, leaving an empty shell, filled with smoldering ash. Nothing could have survived a blaze that hot.

An impossible shout came from a firefighter in the house. Firefighters converged on their brother and all blinked in surprise at what they saw. A small body, unconscious but unharmed, wrapped in an equally small blanket. The little girl, she was untouched by fire, though it was clear it had burned through the room around her. Her bed was ash beneath her, and nothing of her room remained standing. She seemed asleep, snoring softly as her dreams went undisturbed by the chaos around her.

The only thing odder still was her skin. It was tinged gray. That could have just been the smoke, if not for the cracks. Like lava creating fissures in soft volcanic stone, lines glowed red-orange all across her skin, visible even underneath her nightgown. The stunned firemen didn’t seem to know how to react, but one of the EMTs on sight already had their phone up to their ear, 

“Phil, you need to get here. There’s someone you’re gonna want to see.”

...Years Later

Having been raised by Phil Coulson, your life was fairly heavily impacted by SHIELD (and the tales of Captain America), it wasn’t a surprise that you became an agent. Though Phil actually wasn’t too happy about his little girl being put into dangerous situations, you gained his approval after pointing out that you would probably involve yourself in dangerous situations whether or not you had the training or backup that SHIELD provided. Working with the Avengers probably shouldn’t have surprised you either, but all you knew you had was your immunity to fire. Turned out that ability, in combination with your martial arts and weapons training from SHIELD, was actually incredibly useful to the Avengers. One mission became several more, and before you knew it, you were living with them.

Phil was a pretty constant visitor, he wasn’t “checking on you”, he was “touching base with the team”, or fanboy-ing over Cap. Mmmmhmm, sure thing. You knew better, but you generally didn’t call him on it, though it got you a lot of shit from Tony Stark. Honestly, Tony would have found something to tease you about either way. Being called “kid” was probably pretty tame, especially considering Tony’s other name for you: “Glow-Stick”. Clint called you “kid” all the time anyway.

The two members of the team who could have called everyone “kid” were usually the most respectful. Steve never called you anything other than your name, Bucky had called you a few different names, but none of them pejorative. Natasha tended to refer to everyone but Clint by their last name, and Sam, well Sam just called you an idiot, but that was for a different reason.

“Well you are an idiot. Seriously, you oughtta man-up and tell him already.” You and Sam were in the lounge area, having reached a commercial break during the game you were watching. He was leaning back against the arm of the sofa opposite you, rolling his eyes.

“First of all, ‘man-up’? Really? You wanna have that discussion again?” you gave him a significant look, eyebrow raised in indignation. He scoffed and waved you off, you continued, “second of all, mind your own business.”

“He’s gonna die in his sleep before you say anything at this point,” Sam’s voice was mocking.

“Stay in your own lane Wilson,” you growled.

“I’m just saying-”

“Nothing. You’re just saying nothing. The game’s back on.”

“C’mon , you gotta -”

“No, Sam.”

“What’s he up to now?” Natasha asked as she walked into the room, dropping into a seat with a bowl of popcorn.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not saying shit to you.” You knew better than to even give a kernel of information to a master spy.

“Pft, I probably know whatever it is already,” she shrugged. She wasn’t wrong, but as long as she didn’t realize Sam was pushing you to admit it, Natasha wouldn’t interfere. 

You turned to watch the game, missing the glint in Sam’s eye as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

You weren’t going to say shit. The only reason Sam knew about your adolescent crush was that he had hung out with Phil for too damn long one night, and Phil had been a little too open with your story. Years of hearing about Captain America’s exploits had been a basis of your childhood, but Steve wasn’t the character who fascinated you. That was James Buchanan Barnes. Unlike your father figure, your interest lay in the Commando’s sniper, not its leader. Originally, you had wanted to specialize in long-range shooting, but now, having more intimate knowledge of just how involved sniping was, you were even more impressed with Bucky. There were way too many calculations involved in what he did, and he did it so well. 

He had been the yardstick you’d used to measure every romantic partner you’d had, and most of them fell short. That was before you knew he was alive. What was funny was that the Bucky you knew now beat the yardstick you’d made of his past self. 

He was sweet, and mindful of everyone around him, and when he wasn’t too deep in his own head, he was really funny. From the first night you had accidentally stumbled upon him on the roof after a nightmare, you’d been fast friends. Though he was the member of the team you worked with the least, he was the one you spent the most downtime with. Hence, why you put up with all his nicknames. Doll, Sugar, Sweetheart, Darlin’.

When a tennis ball bounced off your head, startling you out of the unintentional mental tangent, you realized that not only had more of the team entered the room, they had clearly been talking to you. 

A blush rapidly heated your face. “Sorry. What?”

“Where’s your head at, kid?” Tony asked. He was sprawled across the loveseat, looking more at you than at the TV.

“Nowhere important; zoned out a little. Guess I’m just tired.”

“Suuuuure you are,” Sam drawled, exchanging looks with Natasha. Your brow furrowed, but you said nothing. 

The topic changed back to the game, as Bucky came into the room. Steve was already seated in the armchair next to Natasha, but instead of crossing to his best friend, Bucky settled on the arm of the sofa, right beside you. Sam cleared his throat, and you shot him a threatening look. 

“Jesus Sam, what did you do to get her looking at you like that?” Steve asked. He sounded almost worried. You would have laughed at his concerned look, but you had to keep an eye on Sam. You let the silence stretch out, not answering Steve and not looking away from Sam, until you were reasonably sure he would keep his mouth shut.

“It’s nothing Steve. Sam just needs to mind his own business.”

“He is nosy as hell,” Bucky grumbled behind you, his arm going to the back of the couch and essentially around your shoulders.

“Aw, you’re just mad cause he’s bugging you about your secrets.”

“Natasha, I don’t care how hard it’ll be, I will kill you.” There was no inflection in your voice, nothing to give away how angry and scared you were. Maybe you should have given a little emotion for the team to read. Maybe then they would have let it go.

As it was, they collectively ganged up on you, grilling you, and refusing to be redirected until you snapped. 

“Just fucking drop it!” you shouted, throwing the tennis ball that was still in your hands at the last team member to pry, Tony.

Everyone was staring. And it took you a moment to process exactly why.

The tennis ball had been on fire.

It hadn’t been on fire before you threw it, and yet it was flaming when it almost hit Tony in the head.

Silence, and slow blinks all around. 

“Holy shit.” Sam was staring open mouthed.

“FRIDAY, when was the last time we checked the fire protocols?” Tony asked, his face still showing surprise, but his voice calm.

“I- I-... That-” you couldn’t seem to form a sentence. Your body seemed frozen to the spot.

“Well that’s interesting,” Natasha mused.

“Is this- is this new?” Clint asked from his seat on the floor in front of Natasha’s chair.

You didn’t know what to say. Was this new? You’d never done it before. You would have known if you had… right?

The only fire you’d ever been in was… oh god.

And just like that, your body was no longer frozen. You shot up out of your seat and sprinted down the hall. You ran into your room and passed through to the attached bathroom without checking if the door was closed, too intent on reaching your destination. Your knees hit the floor in front of the toilet just in time. 

Tears poured from your eyes as you retched. Panic had your chest and gut constricting, making you struggle to breathe. The room would have spun if your head weren’t resting on the cool porcelain of the toilet. As it was, your ears were ringing so much that you couldn't hear your own panting breaths, let alone someone entering the room behind you. You wouldn’t have known Bucky was there if he hadn’t slid his cool metal hand to the back of your neck.

“Shh, doll. It’s okay. It’s just me,” he soothed when you jumped.

You hiccuped in response, taking several minutes to calm to the point that he was able to usher you out of the bathroom. 

Sitting you on the edge of your bed, Bucky stepped back into your bathroom, flushing the toilet and wetting a soft washcloth before coming back to you. He held out the cloth, but when you failed to take it, he began to gently wipe at your face. 

“You know none of the team is upset or freaked out, so what made you run outta there?” Bucky asked quietly.

“What if I did it?” you asked in response, your voice so low Bucky almost missed it.

“Did what, doll?”

“The fire, my parents-” you cut off, unable to say anything more, as fresh tears filled your eyes.

Phil Coulson had been a fantastic foster dad, no doubt about it, but your child’s brain took a long time to adjust to his parenting style. You had missed your parents. Phil had done his best not to erase your parents from your memories. He didn’t know much about them, but your old neighbors had been happy to share stories with you, and you’d created an idealistic version of them in your head. You couldn’t understand why you had survived and they hadn’t, and the nightmares that had followed you into adulthood were still traumatic. What if you had been the cause of the mysterious fire that had killed them. 

“Doll. Hey. Hey Sugar, look at me okay?” Bucky’s hands were on either side of your face. When you met his eyes you got the feeling he had been trying to get your attention for a while. His thumbs softly rubbed your cheekbones as he spoke. “It wasn’t you, doll. It wasn’t your fault.”

“How- how can you possibly know,” you asked in a whisper, trying to pull your face out of his grip, but his fingers tightened slightly. 

“You’ve never done that before. And you’ve only been in one mystery fire.”

“Yeah but-” you started, but Bucky talked right over you.

“If you had been able to start fires as a kid, you would have had it happen around you frequently. When you were angry, when you were scared; it would have happened all the time when you were little, but it didn’t.” He brushed a tear from the corner of your eye and his voice softened. “It wasn’t you honey. I’m sure of it.”

That was a sentiment that he repeated with a few minor variations for several minutes until you calmed down. Once you did, you realized that the position you were in was a little close for comfort. At some point, Bucky had moved from kneeling in front of you, to sitting on the bed beside you, to holding you in his lap. He had his arms around you and your head tucked under his chin. 

However, when you squirmed slightly, embarrassed by your behavior and more than ready to put some space between you and the super soldier you had a giant crush on, Bucky did not let you go.

“Buck,” you said, your voice was a little gravely from crying, “I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” He replied, not sounding convinced.

“Yeah, you can let me go now.” You were fairly certain he could feel the heat in your face through his shirt.

“I can, but I don’t want to.”

“I- what?” you stuttered.

“I happen to like holding you, never got to do it before, but I’ve decided I like it and I’m not ready to let you go yet.” Bucky said it in such a matter of fact tone, it sounded reasonable.

The fuck? Did you hear that right? Uh….

Before you could formulate any kind of response, Bucky’s phone started to ring. He managed to get it from his pocket and answer it without releasing you.

“Hello Agent Coulson, thank you for calling me back. Yes, she’s right here, hold on,” he held the phone out to you.

Still in a sort of shock, you took the phone without question. “Papa?” You used the name you called him when you were little. He was never “Dad” or “Daddy” you could remember calling your father that. No, Phil Coulson was “Papa”.

“Hey sweetie. I heard you had a little scare.” You almost burst into fresh tears, but Phil continued. “You never really asked me about the fire, so I never made it a point to tell you about it. It wasn’t you sweetheart.” As Bucky continued to hold you, occasionally rubbing your back, or rocking you slightly, Phil told you about your father’s business, and the intense and hostile relationship he had with his rival. A rival who had decided that killing your father and your family was the best way to enable a hostile takeover of your father’s much more successful business.

An entire amusement park’s worth of emotions rolled through you as you listened to the tale. Anger so intense you could feel smoke all but coming out your ears.

“Doll,” Bucky softly drew your attention, his fingers ever so lightly grazing your arm. When you looked down, you almost jerked out of his hold.

“Holy fuck!” The lava fissures were glowing across your skin. You knew you let off heat when you were like that. You’d burned plenty of bad guys, guards, and assholes as soon as they made skin contact. “Bucky, let me up.” He did, but he didn’t leave the room as you finished your call with Phil.

Phil felt guilty for not telling you all this earlier, but you shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “It’s not your fault, Papa. I didn’t know this was even a possibility for me to do, I never questioned the fire before. There’s no reason for you to tell me, I didn't ask.” After reassuring him a few more times, and promising to visit him soon and showing him what you’d done, assuming you could repeat the stunt, you said your goodbyes. “Love you, Papa.”

“Love you too sweetheart. See you soon.”

You handed Bucky his phone back, not getting too close to him. But he took his phone and then quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him again.

“Bucky, you're gonna get burnt!” “No I won’t. You haven’t burned me before, and I’ve been near you like this before. It’s okay.”

“You’ve what?! Why would you do that?!”

“Why would you let me get anywhere near you?”

“Huh?” Well that was a topic change.

“I’m just as dangerous as you. More so actually, I’ve hurt and killed way more people than you probably ever will. You never hesitated to get near me.” Bucky held up his metal arm, drawing attention to it.

“That’s different Bucky, I don’t have control of this. You have control, you would never choose to hurt me.”

“It’s not different to me. I’m not afraid of you. You wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, and I trust you to keep me safe.” You shook your head, incredulous. “You’ve never burned your clothes. You have burned the shit out of people before, but you’ve never burned your clothes.” When you didn’t respond, Bucky said, “you’re in control, Sugar, and I trust you.”

Too many revelations in one day. That was your explanation. A second after Bucky stopped speaking, you registered what he was saying, and dropped your forehead to his, all the fight leaving your body, as your eyes closed. He settled you more comfortably on his lap but kept your foreheads together.

You sighed. “It’s been a hell of a day,” you said with a laugh.

“You’ve had a few shocks alright,” Bucky agreed. After a short pause, he spoke again. “Think you can handle one more?”

You hummed, “probably,” and soft lips pressed against yours. 

A quick intake of breath and your eyes shot open, but you didn’t pull away. “Bucky?”

It was his turn to hum. A small smile slowly spreading across lips that had just pulled back from yours.

“What- why?”

“Been wanting to do that for a while. And if you don’t want to tell me to fuck off, I’m gonna want to do it again. You gonna tell me to fuck off?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head and the smile on his lips stretched. When he pulled back from your second kiss, you could feel a matching smile on your own lips.

Hours later, the two of you emerged from your room, a plan in place to test your new ability. Another plan for how to explore your relationship with both of you being Avengers and having very little privacy. And most importantly, a plan in place to fuck with your nosy, annoying teammates. 

“Hey there, Matches,” Tony called as he spotted you from down the hall.

“Seems I’ve got a new name,” you grumbled. 

“At least you’re not ‘Manchurian Candidate’,” Bucky grouched, pressing a kiss to your temple. A kiss Tony did not miss.

“OH MY GOD! Firebug and Freezer Burn are kissy-face!” Tony Stark, a 12 year old. You rolled your eyes and prepared yourself for handling your teammates.

#tpromptsachallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x inhuman!reader #its late cause i fail

[n3rdybird]

The Serpent Ch 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite​‘s 7.7k Celebration/Covid Sucks Challenge.  My prompt was this image.

Not gonna lie, this got away from me a bit, and looks like it might flesh out into several chapters.  Hope you enjoy!

Vikings

OFCxIvar

Rating:Teen

Warnings: Blood/Battle/Curse words

The singing of swords echoed through the trees. Ivar and his men mowed down English soldiers with relish, screaming their victory. Ivar, atop his chariot, pounded his axe against the woodside, eager for more. The wood bridge was no-man’s land as both sides rushed each other, dying over the water. Ivar urged his horse forward, his blood pounding with every Englishman slain. Out of nowhere, a sword caught his arm, causing his grip on his horse's reins to falter. The horse panicked, causing the cart to careen sideways on the rickety bridge. The chariot slammed into the side of the bridge, sending Ivar over the edge. He had but a moment to see the clouded sky overhead, before falling into the churning river.

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The calm quiet of the glade was an illusion. The plush green moss underfoot, the soft rushing of the river, the clear blue sky. By all accounts, it was a peaceful day. But the muddied red river and corpses along the banks betrayed that notion.

 A lone figure picked through the woods, a piebald horse trailing after her a few paces behind. She laughed as the horse would pause to chomp at the occasional green leaf. The horse would toss his head, annoyed, when she would urge him forward with a click of her tongue. He would take his revenge by nibbling at her chestnut brown hair in defiance. Legs encased in sturdy leather leggings, her torso covered by a thick band topped with animal fur. Her boots were soft and pliant; she didn't make a sound as she scanned the grounds for various plants.

 She paused when coming upon the bloody scene. She hitched her herb basket higher up on her back before squatting to inspect the closest body. The chain mail and metalwork of his armor pointed to a soldier of Lord Aldrich. She curled her lip in distaste; she had run-ins with his men before. Her family was not welcome to the ‘civilized’ English. She scavenged his corpse, searching for anything of use. When she found nothing, she moved on to the next. The leather armor was similar to what her people wore but thicker and heavy with metal studs. These men were not her kin, nor Alrich’s. They were someone new.

 While towns did not appeal to her, they were a great source of news. She heard the whispers of the elders, as they discussed the possible allies or enemies. Northmen, they were called. The heathen monsters from across the sea; known for pillaging, killing, wearing their enemies blood like warpaint. Something most parents would tell children to frighten them to stay close to home. Much like the tales that surrounded her kin. But this scene proved they were human and bled, like all men.

 She made her way to each of the bodies, picking over each one. She found very little, refusing to take any of the adornments of the unknown warriors. If they were fighting with her clan’s enemies, they deserved the courtesy of not being picked over like carrion. She found a dagger tucked into a waterlogged belt. It was well made and would be easy for her to wield. She stood and brushed off her knees, not wanting to linger when a groan caught her attention. Brandishing the purloined knife, her eyes darted around to find the source.

 As the groan reverberated again, she pinpointed its source to a fallen log. The enormous oak was half-submerged under the river. The tree's limbs acted like a sieve to catch anything in the river’s current. Wedged in the branches was a body. Curiosity winning out against sense, the woman wadded into the water, following the sound. She tossed the debris aside, revealing a young man, pale but breathing. He had blood clotting at his temple and a nasty gash on his shoulder. He wasn’t one of Aldrich’s men that was certain. His braided hair was decorated with beadwork and his armor matching that of the Northmen. She kneeled, the cold water lapping at her thighs, and reached out to trace his brow. He was young, no wrinkles but a few silvery white scars spaced apart on his skin, most likely from battle. He was a handsome sort, and no doubt a person of importance, if his stylized armor was to go by. She was so focused on her appraisal that she didn’t see him move until it was too late.

 Pain shot up her arm, her wrist held in a bruising grip.

 “Hvem er du?” his voice growled out. 

 Although his language was unfamiliar, his gravel-toned voice made her shudder. His forceful tone and his grip were intimidating, but the bright blue eyes staring drew her in. Steeling herself, she wrenched her wrist away and reached for the dagger at her waist. The warrior was quicker and had her dagger against her throat in a flash.

 “Hvem er du!” he yelled, the blade demanding against her skin. He trembled and blinked, his eyes unfocusing. He was weak and close to falling unconscious again.

 She leaned into the blade, the metal cutting her flesh. He stared at the blood trickling down her next, before bringing his piercing blue eyes back to hers.

 “Elda,” she introduced, taking the knife from his weakening grip and putting his hand on her chest.

 “Ivar,” he mumbled before his head lolled forward. Elda stood up, tucking the knife back into her waistband. He was strong, that was certain. And if half of his men were as strong as he, perhaps her family’s future would not be so bleak. Decision made, she whistled, and her horse plodded closer, whinnying at his owner.

 “Come closer Paega, you coward. I’m not carrying this man back to the hut alone.” He tossed his mane and snorted.

 “Fine,” she huffed, hefting Ivar as well as she was able. He was heavier than she expected, his upper body strong under his leathers. She clicked her tongue at her horse, and he kneeled, allowing Elda to drape the man over his back. Paega straightened up, dancing a bit in place to get used to the weight on his back.

 “Come on now boy, let’s get back home.”

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The trek back to her camp took Elda longer than anticipated. While Paega had a smooth gait, picking through the woods caused the rouncey to stumble at times. She tried to take it slow so as to not aggravate the Northman’s injuries. She would be disappointed if he died after the trouble of getting him out of the river.

 Elda crested a hill and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her camp. The wood and thatched roof were modest, but it was hers. The small hut was nestled in a glade surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It had some supplies and a lean-to barn for Paega. The hut itself was sparse, a single room with only one wall. But it was enough for her when she was away from home and needed a safe refuge.

 The young woman was able to get Ivar inside with some effort, with Paega all but dumping the Northman onto the wood. After his victorious delivery, the chestnut horse busied himself with a bucket of hay.

 The brunette stretched, her back sore from hauling the unconscious man across her threshold. For now, Ivar lay on a bedroll fashioned from furs. Elda collected supplies, herbs, and clean linen dressings and a bowl of water. She arranged them next to the bedroll. The next step would be to undress him. Elda knelt next to his prone form, her fingers attempting to undo all the buckles and straps. She eyed the strange metal skeleton encasing his legs but passed on trying to figure it out. His shoulder was the priority. Each layer she set aside until skin slick with blood revealed itself.

 Ivar wasn’t the first man or boy she’d seen shirtless. Her skills as a healer had her seeing many people at stages of undress. Ivar was no boy. His upper body was all sinewy muscles and scattered scars. Elda allowed herself a moment to gaze at the ink adorning his shoulders, wondering what deeds he had completed to earn them or if he had more. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the gash on his arm. It spanned his bicep to his shoulder, deep, but not fatal. The blood loss combined with the cold water of the river led to his current state. She cleaned the wound, first with water to wash away any dirt, and then again with an herbal rinse. If it was painful, only the slightest twitch from her charge betrayed that. Needle and thread in hand, she closed the angry wound with even, small stitches. It would scar, but what was another in his already impressive collection. Ivar grunted in his delirium and opened his eyes.

 He panicked sluggishly, attempting to push Elda away.

 “Stop Ivar,” she chided, pushing his arm back down with a firm hand. Even in his state, he was almost strong enough to toss her aside. Elda braced his head and brought an earthenware bowl to his lips, water for his parched mouth. He slurped at the bowl, causing him to cough when he took too much. She pulled the bowl from his mouth, even though he groaned in disappointment.

 A poultice was next, fresh cloth steeped in warm water and herbs. Goldenrod to stop the bleeding. Garlic to prevent infection. Feverfew to keep him from falling to fever. With the remedy placed on his arm, and then wrapped tight, Elda turned her trained eyes on the rest of him. The gash on his temple was superficial but she cleaned and treated it nonetheless. Ivar watched her through half-lidded eyes, not trusting Elda. She didn’t see any more wounds aside from a few scrapes and bruises on his top half, so she reached for his legs.

 “No!” he half roared/half slurred, sitting up to push her hands away. Elda jerked at his outburst, knocking over her bowl. The bloody water splashed across the wood, soaking into the furs. She cursed and stood up.

 “Ungrateful ass!” Elda couldn’t help the irritation coloring her tone. She gathered her supplies as Ivar groaned, clutching his shoulder.

 “Lay still, else you will undo all of my hard work. And I refuse to stitch you up again,” she said, pushing the stubborn warrior back down. He grunted but allowed Elda to arrange the bedding.

 Within moments, Ivar seemed to either fall asleep or unconscious. To be fair, she normally wouldn’t care, he wasn't one of her people. But the elders had a vested interest in the Northmen. After all, the enemy of their enemy is their friend. Or at least their potential ally. She stood and walked to Paega who had finished his meal and nibbled at her pants looking for more.

 She laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Paega was a gift from her father when he realized he couldn't stop her wandering. A sure-footed horse to help her escape should she run into trouble. Over the years, Paega had become her constant companion, seeming to know what she was feeling.

 “Is this a foolish idea sweet boy?” she asked the horse, who nickered in response. Elda stroked his nose, the velvety skin of his nose soft against her hands.

 Now all she had to do was get her charge to Valkwind without running into Lord Alrich’s men. Or any Northmen who might take offense to her holding one of their own. She could only hope that he would be less combative once the fog of battle waned.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Ivar awoke with a start and immediately reached for his weapon, which was not at his side. He was without a shirt and winced when his shoulder pulled. He touched the bandages wrapped around his arm, sniffing the herbal scent wafted from it. The wound was stiff, but not burning with infection. The hovel he was in was little more than a lean-to with a single wall and a raised wooden floor of rough-hewn wood. There were few supplies stashed in boxes or hanging from the roof.

 His legs seemed a bit sore, but that was common. However, his leg braces showed damage. He didn’t remember much after catching the blow to his arm, but he remembered falling into the water. The metal was bent in a few places, snapped in others. Ivar cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure if they would hold if he stood, or if they'd crumble under his weight.

 A movement to his left drew his attention, and he saw a brown and white horse nosing at some of the hanging herbs.

 “Paega!” a feminine voice scolded the horse. A young woman with a pheasant in one hand and a bow around her chest. The horse seemed immune to the chastisement and took a leaf in defiance. The woman grumbled something in a language Ivar didn’t understand but patted the horse's neck. Ivar followed her every move, watching for any sign of aggression. His hands flexed, wishing he had a weapon in his grasp.

 “This north man believes me to be an enemy. Surely he’s noticed I have bandaged his wounds,” she said to the horse, turning her gaze to Ivar. While she was speaking English, her accent betrayed the fact it wasn't her first language.

 “Who are you?” he asked. The woman tilted her head at his use of English and smiled.

 “I am sure that I answered that yesterday, Ivar,” she said, with mirth in her eyes. He frowned at her flippant attitude. Did she know who she was addressing?

 “To remind you, my name is Elda,” she introduced with a little bow. Ivar bristled.  Was she mocking him?

 “Where are my men? Where am I?”

 “The alive ones, I do not know. The dead ones, several leagues to the south. It is where I found you, after all. Half-dead. Gratitude would be appropriate,” Elda said with a nod to his shoulder. She took a seat at the edge of the hut and began plucking the feathers with efficient movements. Instead of thanking her, Ivar huffed and reached for his shirt. He twisted his body to reach it and did not see her eyes widen at the design inked on his back.

 “You will take me back to my camp,” he ordered, pulling the shirt over his head with a wince.

 “I will not,” she retorted, continuing her plucking. “I do not know where your camp is located, nor do I wish to run into Aldrich’s men.”

 At the mention of his enemy, Ivar studied the woman. She didn’t seem like the typical English woman. No long swishing skirts, her hair wasn't coiffed but pulled into a loose braid. He admired the way her leather leggings clung to her hips. Elda reminded him of a shield maiden of his people, but less refined. She wore no gold adornments, her few pieces of jewelry made of polished stones or carved bone.

 “Aldrich is lord of these lands, yet you speak his name with contempt,” he said, zeroing in on the knife at her hip. If he could get it away from her, he could make his way back to his men. He did not relish losing his command to his brothers.

 “Lord of these lands, pah,” she said with disgust. “My people have been here for generations, long before Lord Aldrich deemed it his.” She pulled the last stubborn feathers out with a vicious yank and set the bird down.

 “And who are your people?” he asked with veiled interest.

 She looked amused at the question.

 “My people? If you were to ask our enemies, we are the uncivilized heathens who spurn their ‘God’, commune with nature spirits, and snatch their children to drink their blood.”

 At this Ivar grinned. Such stories were familiar, after all his reputation was similar.

 “Is there truth to the stories?”

 Elda smiled and pulled her knife out of its sheath. She tapped the knife against the pheasant.

 “We don’t drink children’s blood. Why waste the whole child?”

 Ivar laughed at her jape.

 Elda methodically slid the knife through the bird's flesh, pulling the meat from the bones. Ivar had to admit, her knife skills were impressive. He could only imagine what she could do against her enemies, slicing through skin with deft precision.

 She finished butchering the bird and set the knife aside. She stood up and made her way to the small cookfire outside the hut. While Elda focused on skewering the meat to cook, Ivar palmed the knife, tucking it under his sleeve. He couldn’t believe the foolishness of the woman. She had no idea who she was dealing with and her ignorance would be her downfall.

 While she tended to the cookfire, Ivar formulated a plan. He would catch her off guard, and demand she take him back to the battlefield under threat of death. From there, he would be able to find his way back to his camp. He’d take her as a thrall. She had skills as a healer, and she was striking to look at. His brothers would be jealous of his captive.

 Elda’s voice cut into his thoughts.

 “Are you planning to use that knife before or after I finish cooking? I would ask that you wait until after I've eaten.”

 Ivar looked up to see Elda watching him with a knowing grin. He bristled, angry at himself for being caught and for the smug look on her face.

 “You could have killed me the moment my back was turned, yet you did not move from the bedroll. So you are waiting. For what I wonder?”

 She stood up, brushing dirt off her knees.

 “For me to come closer? You would not let me check your legs for injuries. Perhaps you are injured.” Elda watched Ivar for any reaction to her questions. His strange leg armor wasn’t anything she’d seen before.

 “Well, Northman? Are you going to kill me? Steal my horse? Somehow find your way back to your men? Without running into Aldrich’s?” she asked, before holding a skewer just out of Ivar’s reach.

 “Or you can eat, ride with me to my family, and have an ally in these lands?” She approached him and straddled his legs, kneeling on either side of his hips. Her thighs brushed his, as she kept her weight off him. She was so close, that he could drive the knife into her neck with ease. Fearless, he had to give it to her. This woman had more balls than most of his men.

 Ivar clamped down on the irritation that was bubbling up at the gall of the woman. While he did not take orders from anyone, she had a point. This land was unknown to him and he was without the support of his men. It riled him to be exposed like this, armed only with the pilfered knife. And that self-satisfied smile. She knew she was his best option. Even if he did kill her, he wasn’t sure if he could even get on her horse, let alone ride it to find his camp. For now, it would be in his best interest to at least follow the strange woman’s lead. He could always kill her later if he so chose.

 He spun the knife in his hand before tucking it into her belt. He ran his hand along her waist to her arm. His hand circled her wrist and he could feel her heartbeat through her pale skin. It was quick and that fact excited him. Yet as calm she seemed on the surface, she was still nervous. Ivar brought her hand up to his face and took a bite out of the skewered meat. The meat tore easily and juices ran down his chin.

 “How far is it to your family’s land?”

#tpromptsachallenge #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc #vikings ofc #ivar x ofc #ivar the boneless

[wingsyouburn]

Fic: Angel of Mine, Ch. 16 (MCU)

Title: Angel of Mine

Fandoms: Marvel Cinemagic Universe, Captain America (Movies)

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Rosalie Archer (OC)

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Tags: Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rated for future chapters, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angels, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demons, tpromptsachallenge, Eventual Smut

Summary: Angels walk among us. They serve the people, aiding those who need it, guiding their chosen, and using their magical abilities to make the world a better place. Rosalie Archer thought she had it all. Once her two best friends, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, returned from World War II, she would bind her life to theirs, and the three of them would live happily ever after. Only Bucky fell from a train, and Steve crashed into the ice, and Rosalie had to find a new path in life.

Now it’s 2014, and unbeknownst to Rosalie, her secret has been discovered. HYDRA wants to harness the power of angels, and with the help of a demon with a grudge, their experiments are close to complete. When Rosalie goes missing, her old friend, Peggy Carter, sends Steve and Bucky after her. In a reunion seventy years in the making, how will Steve and Bucky react to Rosalie’s abilities? How will the rest of the Avengers react to a new comrade with wings?

And how far will demons go in order to see all of the angels destroyed?

A Stucky/OC Angels AU.

Notes: Written as part of @tilltheendwilliwrite​'s 7.7k Covid Sucks Prompt Challenge. Congrats on all the followers, T - you deserve all that and more! I hope you like what I've come up with for this challenge. ♥

This fic assumes that 1. Bucky was rescued from HYDRA, 2. the Accords never happened, and 3. everyone is living happily ever after(ish) in the Avengers Compound. What's canon? I've never met them. Takes place post the first Avengers movie.

Warnings for Chapter 16: Implied torture, not explicit

Rosalie deserved to have a happy life with someone who loved her. “No dating ever?” Steve asked. “I find that hard to believe.” “I didn’t say that.” She held up a finger. “I’ve had my fun. If Peggy hadn’t been so hung up on you, then I might have made a run for her too.” Steve gripped the wheel tighter. “Really?” “Can you blame me? Peggy in her prime was stunning.” “She’s got a point,” Bucky added. “Hard to look away from a dame like that.” “God, not you too.” Steve sighed. “I’m not ready for you two to team up against me.”

Read Chapter 16 at AO3!

Previous Chapters: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] 

[ 14 ] [ 15 ]

#tpromptsachallenge #mcu fanfiction #mcu #amie writes #story: angel of mine

[thejemersoninferno]

Mad love.

· Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

·A/N: Here’s my entry for @tilltheendwilliwrite​ 7.7K’s challenge. I was supposed to post it earlier but I thought I scheduled but I didn’t. Sorry. Anyway, I hope you like it.

·Song: Mad love - Sean Paul ft Becky G & David Guetta.

· Word  count: 2246.

· Warnings: language, smut, more language. Steve huffed punching the punching bag as hard as he could. Once again you were training to that damned song he hated. Too much language, too explicit he thought. Bucky smirked as he walked towards his best friend knowing how pissed he was. You were always listening to explicit songs, that’s what Steve said. He, on the other side, enjoyed seeing you dancing and singing at the top of your lungs some dirty lyrics.

“Easy, tiger,” Bucky joked, which gained him a murderous look from Steve.

“You knew she was coming, didn’t you?” Steve asked, annoyed.

“Incoming, incoming!” you shouted running towards Bucky and, luckily he caught you on time.

“How are you doll?” Bucky laughed.

“Tired as fuck,” you sighed. Steve grunted at your side and you giggled, “Sorry, Captain,”

“You do have a mouth there, doll,” Bucky winked, letting you off his arms.

“And damn well you know it,” you winked and chuckled.

“C’mon girl, Wanda is waiting,” Natasha called you out from the door. You greeted them goodbye, not without leaving a kiss on Buckys’ cheek and waved Steve. He hated you.

You were dancing and singing at the top of your lungs. Tony threw a carnival party and you were enjoying it like nobody else. Wanda and Natasha long lost in the crowd, tequila shots boiling your blood and you drank your drink in one sip. You spotted Bucky, Sam and Steve at the VIP area as Sam said and you walked to them. Still vibing to the song, your recent discovery Latino music aka reggaeton and Tony seemed to enjoy it. Everything to annoy Mr Language.

“HEYOOO” you shouted to greet them.

“There she is,” Sam smiled.

“How many tequila shots you had doll?” Bucky asked, letting you rest against his chest.

“Enough to see you as handsome as ever,” you smirked.

“I think you should go to rest,” Steve commented.

“Ugh, too early,” you replied.

Steve was about to argue back when you heard the rhythm of the song of the summer, that’s what Tony said, beating loud. You yelped excitedly and grabbed Buckys’ hand pulling him with you. Safaera aka known as a vetoed song banged making you danced provocatively with Bucky. 

Bucky followed your moves, his hands grasping on your hips and his hand slipping lower on your back. You spun around to keep his hands busy and giving him a good view of your tight black skirt and croptop. Bucky rolled his eyes laughing at your dirty look, he adored you.

“MAMI QUE TU QUIERE!” You sang and Bucky pulled you away from the intruder trying to steal you. You laughed and bounced your ass, seductively, singing the lyrics. Your so many years under HYDRA rules taught you so many things, like languages or to be a stripper for a mission.

You caught Sam vibing to the song and you needed to bring him to dance with you. You walked to him and Steve, your hips swaying, gaining dirty looks around. Bucky followed and soon the three of you were singing and dancing. 

“Jesus christ,” you heard Steve murmured. You looked at him, red covering his ears betraying his disgusted face. You winked at Bucky who nodded assuring you he regretted speaking Spanish.

“She took a pill that makes her horny, fucks in audis, not in hondas. If I fuck you don't call me, it's not for you to love me. If your boyfriend doesn’t eat you out, then why is he here,” You sang at the top of your lungs, Bucky and Sam laughing out loud and cheering you up. You erupted in laughter, still moving your hips to the beat, your eyes fell on Steve. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark and angry. You gulped, filling the heat in your core, you squirmed on your spot.

Tonys’ voice echoed the room while you exchanged looks with Steve. Your mouth was dry, maybe it was the tequila or all the beers you had, but you were looking at Steve with the nastiest of the looks, your eyes filled in lust. Steve, on the other side, his jaw clenched, his expression serious and slightly annoyed you could say, his knuckles white, you thought he would break the glass between his hands, he bit his lower lip and you let out a groan. Steve swore he saw your nipples through the fabric and he closed his eyes shut.

“Ten thousand for Captain America!” Tony brought both of you back to reality.

“TONY!” Pepper arrived at his side and pulled the microphone from him.

“Captain!” Tony called out.

“I’m sorry, Steve’s not in this auction,” Pepper said.

“Fifty thousand!” a woman shouted from the other side of the room. Your mouth fell open and you tried to find her through the crowd.

“A hundred!” another voice, from the back.

“No, no,” Pepper tried to calm them down.

“I hear a hundred and fifty?” Tony giggled, happily, enjoying the moment.

People chattering and giggling, you spot the curly woman who offered a hundred thousand for Steve smile proudly. 

“Oh boy,” Sam laughed.

“A hundred in one,” Tony started counting down.

The people anticipating the moment with giggles and congratulations to the woman.

“A hundred in two,” Tony sang, you saw the excitement on his face and you denied.

“A hundred and fifty,” echoed the room and you spun to see Natasha, her known smirk plastered on her face. You sighed relieved.

“A hundred and fifty for the widow!” Tony sang and everyone erupted in cheers.

“I’m going to kill him,” Steve sighed.

“He did it for a good cause,” Sam added.

“Yeah, making Cap lose his virginity,” you mumbled. Bucky erupted in laughter.

“Not everyone is like you,” Steve snickered back. Sam facepalmed himself internally while Bucky gave Steve a disapproval look.

“Fuck you, Steven,” you spat, you kissed Buck’s and Sam’s cheeks before walking away.

“Really Steve?” Bucky added. Steve huffed.

                                                          ★★

The beat from the speakers made the room feel like some club, your hands punching the punching bag then and there, you were tired, exhausted but mostly, pissed. You never knew why Steve couldn’t stand you, from the very beginning he was a dick to you and you were tired of it. Yes, you had a mouth but you weren’t like that at the beginning until you realised that was the only way Steve spoke to you. You wanted to be friends with everyone in the compound but Steve made it hard to be friends with. 

Sean Pauls’ Mad Love made your heartbeat race and without thinking, you started dancing. First slowly, spinning around, ballet style until the beat dropped and you dance sensually, your hands touching your hips and your thighs, you let your mind drive you to your darkest fantasy.

Seve walked in to find you dancing, your hips rocking something imaginary on the floor, your hands moving at your sides, you were dancing. You stood and moved sensually to no one and his unsteady breath made him growl. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he imagined himself around you, he imagined his hands touching your thighs, your hips, your hips bouncing frenetically against his. His hands closed in a fist, you made his blood boil and his mind dirtier than ever. If you only knew.

“Steve WHAT THE FUCK!” you screamed, scared.

He opened his eyes, you were standing a few feet away, your breath unsteady, your face red and slightly sweaty, your lips red from biting them. Fuck me, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” He excused himself quickly.

“You scared me!” you added, “And given our job that’s quite hard,” you murmured. 

“I know,” He whispered.

“I was..” you blushed, “training,”

“I’ll be back,”  He said before storming out. You denied, that man would be the death of you.

                                                          ★★

After Steve left you finished your cooldown and walked back to your quarters, you needed a night out and you needed it now.

“Doll,” Bucky sighed. 

“Please, please Bucky” you pouted. 

“I’m not in the mood for a party night,” he shrugged.

“But I want to dance!” you pouted again, giving your best puppy eyes.

“Look there’s Steve,” Bucky called him, “You’re still going to that ball, right?”

“It’s not a ball,” Steve replied. 

“Prom whatever,” Bucky added, “Do you have a date?”

“It’s a gathering for senior people, we’re supposed to join them,” Steve answered.

“Great, she’s going to be your date,” Bucky pushed you into Steve and ran away. The fucker ran away. I’m so killing you, you told him telepathically. 

“See you at 8 P.M?” Steve asked. You looked at him skeptical, was he for real? 

“Yes,” you mumbled. 

An hour, you have been in the seniors ball for an hour and you still haven't had a drink. Well, cherry cola only. Steve doing his work, pep talk, meeting people and taking pictures. You still remembered when Tony told him he was going to be the Seniors Ambassador in town. I’m not that old he said, you laughed.

The music low and from the forties, you’d recognized the music anywhere. Steve liked that music. You caught him looking your way and you gave him a soft and supporting smile.

He smiled back and you felt your head dizzy, that man. 

You huffed at Bucky’s text and wished you had a beer. You sighed hard and sat properly on your chair, waiting for Steve. 

“Now tell me, sweetlady, is he your beloved?” an old lady asked, standing at your side.

“Oh no,” you answered, “friend from work,”

“I had friends from work and I’ve never spoken about them the way he does about you,” she smiled.

“Steve’s very polite,” you smiled.

“Then I’ll ask him to dance with me,” she winked and walked to him. You watched the exchange smiling, Steve agreed by the looks he send your way and walked to the dance floor with the lady. You observed them dance for a moment, until a hand fell in front of you. Bucky.

“Dance with me?” he asked, pouting. You squinted your eyes but accepted his hands. Put your head on my shoulder by Paul Anka sounded. You moved slowly, your eyes focused on each other and he chuckled.

“Fuck you, Barnes,” you muttered. 

“Doll, I really thought it would be good for you both,” he replied.

“There’s no beer, how is he supposed to tolerate me?” you asked.

“He tolerates you pretty well, excuse me very much” he snickered, you denied, you were about to answer when a tap on your shoulder made you turn. Steve and the woman looked at you.

“You know honey, Brunettes are more my type,” she grabbed Buckys’ hand and pulled him to her side, pushing Steve into you and dancing away.

“She just stole my date,” you mumbled. 

“I thought I was,” Steve added. You looked at him, his face calm and relaxed. His blonde hair well placed and all you wanted to do is put your fingers on it. The song switched to Sway by Michael Bublé. Steve offered his hand and you grabbed it, pulling him into the crowd. You swayed from side to side, his fingers on your lower back and hand, your hands on his shoulders and you risk it all caressing his arm until you reached his neck. You felt his grasp into your green satin gown and you decided it was now or never. You swayed sensually, moving him around, spinning under his touch, giving him sensual and seductive looks. The song arrived to an end with Steve nailing into your hips, his left hand travelling to fix your hair. 

His kisses burnt your skin, your hands touching every inch of his bare torso and back. His mouth travelled to find your earlobe and you moaned his name. He pulled your dress up and kneeled on the bed to kiss you everywhere. You moaned and asked for more while his fingers travelled on your legs and you felt his fingers getting close to your core. You held your breath and let a heavy sigh escape your lips when he kissed your forehead. 

“Open,” Steve demanded. You obeyed sucking into his fingers than once were inside your sex.  Your legs still trembling from the first orgasm his devilish tongue cause inside you. He bite his lips and opened your legs, growling. 

“Love the views,” you panted. 

His hands caressing and grasping into your thighs, you panted and pulled his arm trying to make him fall on top of you.

“Your legs look the best when I’m spreading them apart,” he groaned in your ear. You felt your center wet again and you kissed him passionately. You panted and moaned his name, his sex hitting your g spot, making you squirm under his touch. Your legs started to give out and you knew you were close again.

“Fuck, give it to me baby,” Steve growled in your ear. His movements erratics making you notice he was close to.

“Steve!” you panted out loud, he trusted a few more times and you felt him fill you up.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, trying to steady on top of you. You both panted and tried to breath again.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, play Mad Love by Sean Paul and Becky G,” Steve panted.

“What?” you asked, confused. 

“I’m not done with you,” he moaned on your lips, his hands travelling to your heating core. 

                                                           ★★

If anyone would like to be tagged, let me know.

J 🍀.

#tpromptsachallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #thejemersoninferno writings #thejemersoninferno masterlist #thejemersoninferno #smut

[crocoguile]

The Taste Of Death’s Kiss

“Before” ; prologue

A mysterious young woman charges right into the life of one James Buchanan Barnes and leaves him temporarily paralyzed with a press of her lips. They're both tied to something big, and it's going to take more than they have alone to handle the storm coming for them.

Chapter 1 of [REDACTED]      ||      Accompanying Playlist

“Kid, I’m gonna fucking swirly you when this is over.” Bucky is only a little winded at the top of the tenth floor as he tears through the cracked fire door and through what he guesses is an architectural firm’s office and stumbles a little when he hears a little laugh ahead of him. 

A Bucky Barnes / Original Female Character fanfiction. 

Read now on Ao3!* *You have to be a member, I’m tired of having my work get stolen and reposted. I have a few account invites left. 

Fic for @tilltheendwilliwrite​ ‘s #tpromptsachallenge. Original prompt Image under the cut, but was edited down for the cover image.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #tpromptsachallenge

[iwillbeinmynest]

Primus

Pairing: Bucky x OFC  (Listen, I know OFC’s aren't popular but if it make’s you feel better just replace her name with yours, or better yet, pretend you have a new name, kay??)

AU: Gladiator

Prompt: *top center photo* “Last Warrior” from T over at @tilltheendwilliwrite for her writing challenge!! Congrats on the followers and thank you so much for hosting this!!

Author’s Notes: I wrote this in one day...yeah, you read that right, ONE DAY. I haven’t been this inspired in a long time okay and ancient rome AU’s have a very very special place in my heart so needless to say I had a fire under my butt to actually finish this fast before I lost whatever motivation was within me. Also, I am obsessed with Roman Empire era fiction, okay. I got way into this and now I can’t get the vibe outta my head. Please excuse me as I go find my sandals and a maxi dress.

Word Count: 4.8K (don’t be mad, I needed to keep it a one shot)

Notes/Warnings: Kissing (It gets a kinda steamy but I tried to not be inappropriate), blood and gore (like, lots), mentions of abuse and trauma, mentions of slavery (ancient rome, y'all. I do not support it.) major character death, angst, grief, sadness, fear. - This is a tragedy, okay? I made it sad. 

Masterlist

                                                                      Moodboard by @itsanerdlife​

She walked through the sleeping city under the stars concealed by her dark cloak. She’d pulled the hood up to cover her hair and face from any passers by, which at this time of night were very few and those who did pass her, were too drunk to pay any mind. Her sandals hardly made a sound on the compacted sandy streets. She stayed close to the edge so that she would be out of what little light tonight’s moon provided.

She turned a sharp corner and hurried down a narrow alleyway. As she emerged onto the  next street, she was greeted in silence by a man who she only knew as The Falcon. He was dark of skin and he wore his tragedies in his eyes.

The Falcon handed her the reins to a dark colored horse, it was too dark to tell it’s true color, but Cassia assumed it was black. The steed swayed beside her, shifting its weight.

“Ride swiftly. Your time is short and you must be back before the sky begins to turn. I will not wait for you.” He reminded her.

She nodded and he helped her mount the beast. She turned the horse towards the city gates and took a deep breath but before she could kick the horse The Falcon grabbed her leg below the knee. Cassia gasped quietly but she didn’t pull away.

“The Captain will meet you at the ludus gates.” The Falcon handed her a cloth that was wrapped around something thin and hard. “Give this to him and tell him his debts will soon be settled.”

He let go of her after she took it and then slapped the steed beneath her, sending it straight into a gallop.

Cassia held tight and rode through the final streets before speeding through the west gate- unattended thanks to The Captain’s orders. The way to the ludus, Cassia had long ago put to memory. She’d many times accompanied both her father and The Captain to the ludus to watch from the balcony as Lentullus’ gladiators trained.

Her father, Praetor Marcus Cassius Faustus, often visited the surrounding ludus’ to obtain the best gladiators for his games. He’d put on many games during his time as Praetor and the people loved him- or, at least, the rich and the noble did. The rest of the city tolerated him as they had no choice.

The Captain, or Steve as Cassia had come to know him, was one of her father’s closest confidants, having served under him in his final years as a general in the Legion. Steve was near the same age as Cassia and they’d become close friends. Cassia’s father even suggested that The Captain marry her but her heart belonged to another and Steve knew it.

Now, the ludus was in sight. Her journey was very brief thanks to the swiftness of the horse she’d been loaned. She could see the flames of the guards who stood at the top of the walls and she watched as the flames disappeared the nearer she became.

She pulled back on the reins and the horse huffed and heaved hot breath from its nose as it was finally given a respite.

A young servant approached her and took the horse to get water after she dismounted. He didn’t meet her eyes and Cassia’s heart broke at the sight of the leather collar around his neck.

Steve appeared with a torch in hand, his blonde hair looked golden in the light of the flame. “Cassia,” He greeted her with a kiss to the cheek. “Come, we haven’t much time.”

She grabbed his arm giving him pause. She handed him the cloth, “The Facon says your debts are soon to be settled and to give you this.”

“What are its contents?” He asked, puzzled.

“It was not my place to look.” And she meant it. What ever was between The Falcon and The Captain was none of her business nor her concern. She only had one task on her mind tonight.

Steve pocketed the cloth and placed a hand at her back, urging her closer to the ludus. But instead of entering the front doors to the house, she was now sent down a steep hill and towards the metal gates at the bottom. The two guards, that stood on either side, looked straight forward and into the black of night.

Cassia’s pace stuttered but Steve pushed her on.

“Nevermind them,” He reassured her. “They know their duties.”

She nodded and followed him through the gates. After a short walk and a right turn, Cassia let out a soft gasp. She recognized this ground. She was standing at the edge of the training yard. She’d seen Lentullus’ gladiators train here with wooden swords and blunted spears. She’d watched as they were whipped for their failures and praised for victories. She looked up and saw the balcony where she usually stood. How strange to be looking at it from this angle. Was this how he saw her?

“Cassia!” Steve whispered her name, shocking her from her moment of perspective. “This way.”

She hurried to catch up with him. Cassia followed him through the passageways of the slave quarters and up to yet another metal barred gate and beyond that were more bars and cells. It was like a place for wild animals and while many romans believed this is what they deserved, Cassia knew better.

From the darkness beyond the cell door where she stood, there was a shuffling of feet and a muttering of harsh words.

Her heart jumped when she was finally within hearing distance and she recognized his voice. She turned to smile at Steve but he was staring, with brows furrowed in concern, at the cloth she had handed him from The Falcon. Even with the cloth now unwrapped and it draping over his fingers, she still could not see what was in it.

“I only get so much time for sleep,” A distant voice grumbled. “Pray, what has you dragging me from my slumber this night, Crassus?”

Bucky shuffled his feet, stirring up the sand as he was pushed forward by the guard behind him. His gaze jerked forward from the shove and he froze.

Tears welled in Cassia’s eyes and she grabbed the bars that separated her from him.

 His stupor only lasted a moment before he rushed to the gate as well. His hands went to her hair and he all but whimpered at the sight of her. “Cassia?”

The Captain nodded to the guard who pulled the keys from his belt and unlocked the gate.

“Remain here.” The Captain ordered. “I will bring him back shortly.”

The guard nodded and turned his back but remained in his place.

The moment the gate was wide enough, Bucky was through it. He grabbed her and lifted Cassia off the ground in a long overdue embrace.

“Life has returned to my body. Have I been blessed that I get to hold you again?” He set her down and held her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

Buck remembered the day he first laid eyes upon her. She stood beside Steve on the balcony of the ludus. Lentullus was lavishing her father with praise and complements while Cassia’s eyes focused on his fellow gladiators. He’ll never forget the look on her face. It wasn’t disgust not pity nor lust, as so many other patrons of his Dominos would look, but rather he saw grief and compassion in her eyes.

 Bucky had known Steve all his life, they even served in the legion at the same time but Bucky disobeyed a direct order to kill a young family of Gauls and his punishment was immediate death or to fight in the next games.

 Bucky chose the games, as most do, and won his match. Lentullus was enamored with the way Bucky fought and bought him then and there from his chair in the pulvinar of the arena.

 It was only months later that Steve arrived with Cassia trailing behind him. She followed Steve to meet Bucky that same day. Bucky asked her why a woman as beautiful as she looked so sad to watch what most other consider to be exciting.

 She responded ‘No one should be enslaved- whether they are bound by debt, the collar or blood- no man should have to be forced to do something they don’t want to.’ It was then that he knew she was different. He knew she had endured a the tragedy of slavery he just didn’t know at what end.

 Bucky would later learn of the hardships her father had put her through- forcing her to keep slaves, encouraging her to please other men he wanted to impress- he learned that she refused this order every time it was given, causing her father to strike at her for her disobedience- or attending the games, which she couldn’t stand.

 In their next handful of secret meetings, Bucky fell in love with her. Their romance was forbidden and secret. It had to be, her father would never allow her to marry a gladiator as they were only a short rise above slaves. But Cassia still came to him and he would thank the gods every time he was able to hold her.

 And now, he thanked them again.

 He studied her for a moment before looking at Steve, “Thank you.” Cassia’s voice stole his attention before The Captain could respond.

“I had to see you.” She tried to stall her tears but they escaped even still. “I had to be in your embrace before…” She couldn’t say it.

Bucky’s eyes softened. “And I you, only I did not think it would be possible.” He pulled her into another hug and then felt a foreign hand at his shoulder.

Steve was looking around. “Let us move to a place more secluded. I fear a slave may spot us here.”

Bucky nodded but never lost touch of Cassia. They followed Steve out past the training yard and into the small hall that leads to the final gate. With none but Steve’s torch to light them,  long shadows were cast onto the sandstone walls.

Bucky took Cassia into his arms again, her tears now stopped and content on her face. “How did you get her here?” He looked to Steve for answers.

“Samuel, arranged a horse.” Steve answered.

“And what did that cost you, this time?” Bucky kept his eyes on Steve but his hand rubbed a gentle circle across Cassia’s back.

Steve swallowed but remained steady. “I’ve yet to make my payment but It will come soon enough.”

Cassia felt Bucky tense and she leaned back to look at them both. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Steve took in a breath, “I’ll go pay the guards and leave you to solitude a moment but you don’t have long.” And Steve hurried off, leaving them in the dark.

“Bucky-” Cassia began to question but he cut her off with a hungry kiss.

He leaned into her until she was flush against the wall. She weaved her hands into his long, dirty, hair and tugged gently, making him grunt into her mouth and bite softly on her bottom lip. His hands roamed over her dark blue, linen, tunic. The  purple and gold sash at her middle hung low on her hips, hugging her bottom, and Bucky traced the fabric with an open palm.

Cassia pushed him back and gasped for a breath that she wished she didn’t need.

Bucky paused his attack on her neck when he thought he heard someone coming.

Cassia used the respite to her advantage. She took Bucky’s face in her hands and kissed him slow and gently. She tried to forge every sensation to memory. The feel of his beard on her cheeks, the warmth of his lips and the taste of his mouth. She was afraid of loosing him. 

Bucky pulled away from her and it wasn’t until she felt him wipe the tears from her face that she realized that she was crying again.

“I pray that I am not the cause of such sorrow.” He said with a familiar grief.

She shook her head. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to ruin our last-” A sob broke her sentence.

Bucky held her head in his hand and shushed her. “I’ll be alright.” He tried to soothe.

She shook her head again. “You fight in the Primus tomorrow. Against Theokoles! A champion in all his fights!”

Bucky tried to smile. “Does my beloved hold doubts of my skill and strength?”

She grabbed his face. “Never. But-” She reconsidered her statement and then said, “Bucky, I have seen him fight ten men and leave with nothing but a scratch. You fight him alone!” Her eyes danced as she searched his face for any sign that he understood the severity of tomorrow’s games.

“Cassia,” He caressed her cheek but it did nothing to ease her worry. “If I win tomorrow, I will win my freedom. And with the winnings I earn, we can leave this city and start again somewhere new.”

She only looked at him and offered a small smile. He kissed her again and she struggled to remain in the moment. Her mind wandered with images of tomorrow’s games and all of the horrendous ways he could die. She did consider him winning but she knew he had never faced an opponent such as The Mighty Theokoles. His size nearly doubled Bucky who was well fit in his own right.

Bucky fought double swords while Theokoles took all victories with double spears. Theokoles was her father’s favorite champion. Whenever he fought, the crowd swelled within the arena, bringing in much coin to his purse. Tomorrow’s games would be no different. Senator Claudius Tiberius Sextus would be attending and if the games fair well, her father would be able to speak with him about elevating his position from praetor to governor. With the senator’s backing her father could very quickly rise to a higher power.

 Bucky nipped at her ear, making her gasp and hold him tighter. She let out her breath with a low moan and Bucky began to work faster. He kissed down her neck to her shoulder. 

 Cassia’s hands had also begun to roam. Being a slave, Bucky wore nothing but a little bit of cloth to cover his hips. Her fingers traced his bare and chiseled stomach, then they ran around his torso to feel the strength in his back.

Just before Cassia and Bucky could take things any further, Steve came running up quick.

“You must come back!” Steve whispered loudly as he pulled Bucky from Cassia’s arms.

Bucky looked back desperate and Cassia ran to catch his hand and follow.

“What happened?” Cassia whispered, praying to whatever god would hear her that she may have more time with him.

“Doctore has called for him. He must answer from his room, lest you be discovered.” Steve said quickly as he hurried them back to the gate.

Before Steve could push Bucky through the iron cell door, Bucky ripped from his grasp and took Cassia in his arms again, kissing her with solidity and fervor.

He pulled back with a happy smile. “I will free us both tomorrow, you will see.”

Cassia yanked the blue beaded necklace from her neck, breaking the latch, and pressed it into his chest. His hand covered hers. “Take this, that I may be with you in the arena.”

He kissed her again, “You always are, my love.”

Steve pulled Bucky hard and shoved him through. “Go!”

The guard hurried Bucky back into the darkness of the ludus corridors and he was gone from Cassia’s sight.

Her heart sank to no longer be in his arms but she didn’t have time to grieve because suddenly Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and she was hurled the other direction. Steve then took her hand and tossed his torch into a nearby barrel of water, putting it out. He ran them back through the halls and the training yard and back to the final gate.

The two guards who’d kept watch hadn’t moved nor did they now. Steve helped Cassia back on her horse and then mounted his own.

“Hurry,” He said. “We mustn’t be discovered.” and he kicked his horse, slapping Cassia’s as he passed. They both rode back to the city as fast as their horses would go. As they neared the city walls Steve broke to the left, leaving Cassia to ride the rest of her way, alone.

*  *  *  *

 The roar of the crowd was nearly deafening as Cassia sat in the pulvinar. The servants behind her slowly waved fans at her back. She hated that this was the life she led. Having servants and being expected to command them. No one should be commanded or forced to do anything they didn’t want to and people shouldn’t be owned. She’d grown up with servants and she’d seen the cruelties they’d endured. It made her sick. She never struck at her servants, save once when her father demanded it and she promptly apologized once in the privacy of her room- she was only fifteen then.

Cassia sat beside The Captain as they both awaited the primus, the final fight of the games. It was why everyone had come. The executions and following fights entertained the crowd, to be sure, but they came for Theokoles and Winter’s Soldier.

Bucky had acquired his Gladiatorial Title after a brutal and bloody defeat in the snowy arena in the northern outskirts of Rome. Bucky had beheaded his opponent and the blood spatter looked like a legion eagle, thus being named Winter’s Soldier.

She hated that name.

The gladiators in the arena below her clashed as their armor and shields collided. A man with a red feather atop his helmet thrust his sword upward in the final strike. The crowd erupted in cheers as they basked in the gore. Cassia turned her head.

“My lovely daughter never could stomach the games.” Her father said to Senator Claudius.

Claudius looked over his shoulder and chuckled at Cassia before turning back to Marcus. “The delicacy of women.” He teased.

Cassia clenched her jaw then stood. “I should like to get some air before the primus, please excuse me, father.”

“I’ll escort you.” Steve offered.

“How very kind of you, Captain.” Marcus smirked. “I’m hoping to have him as a son-in-law soon.” He said to Claudius.

Claudius nodded and smiled. “It would be a wise arrangement.”

Cassia hurried out of the pulvinus and Steve followed. She only made it as far as the second corner before she almost collapsed. Steve caught her arm and she grabbed him. “I can’t do this Steve. I can’t sit there as my father uses the life of the man I love to elevate himself so that he can enslave more people!”

Steve sighed and helped Cassia to stand upright. “Not to mention the humor at your expense.”

She snapped her head at him, “I’d have him shout my worthlessness to the gods if it meant Bucky didn’t have to fight!”

Steve shushed her and stepped closer.  “Calm yourself!” He whispered at her. “Keep shouting and he’ll hear you.”

She shook her head. “Tell me the truth, does Bucky stand a chance?”

Steve paused. “I- I don’t know.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted but it was the answer she expected. Her lip quivered but she clenched her jaw, took a deep breath and straightened. She nodded her head once. “Right.”

The horns blared in the arena to announce the beginning of the primus and both Steve and Cassia jumped and turned back to the path to the pulvinar. The arena shook with the stomps and cheers of the crowd.

Cassia tensed and started to run back to her seat but Steve grabbed her arm. “I have to confess to you!” He shouted so he could be heard but he pulled her close to keep their conversation private. “I can not let your father rise to be governor. He will not leave this arena today bro will the Senator. It is how I will settle my debts with The Falcon and save Rome from yet another tyrant.”

Her eyes widened and tears pricked her eyes at the vastness of what the rest of the primus will bring. But she knew her father was a mad tyrant, for him to be in power any higher would be devastating. So, she nodded her head. She understood what needed to be done.

“Where will you go?” She asked.

“Arrangements have been made. There are a few senators who will back me.”

Suddenly, she had a thought. “What did The Falcon give you?” Her expression left no room for lies or dismissal.

He pulled a small dagger from his waist for just a moment before concealing it again but she saw the markings of yet another corrupt senator, Senator Julius. Thats when she figured it out, Julius was to be framed for her father’s murder.

She nodded. Whatever plan The Falcon had drawn was well thought out. Three evil men would be taken down. Cassia wanted to feel sorry for her father’s fate but there was little chance that he would ever be anything but wicked.

They were both brought back to the moment when they heard Marcus begin to announce the final fight.

Steve took her hand and they ran back to the pulvinar.

“My fellow citizens!” Her father shouted with arms wide. “It is my great honour and privilege to host these games for you today! But The honour of announcing the primus,” The crowd erupted briefly, “The honour goes to the magnificent Senator Claudius Tiberius Sextus!”

Claudius stood up proud and raised his arms as Marcus sat back down.

“Good people! I present to you from the house Lentullus Sepius Romulos, Winter’s Soldier!”

The crowd cheered and some booed. Some threw flowers and others rotten food.

Bucky emerged from the left of the arena. His waist was covered in cloth and belts. His legs were covered up to the mid thigh in leather and gauze. His right arm was bare but his left was covered in chainmail and metal plates. He walked out of the iron gate with both swords already drawn. He ignored the cheers of the crowd and whatever was thrown his way and he looked up and locked eyes with Cassia.

Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed Steve’s hand.

“And your reigning champion!” Claudius continued and the arena began to stomp. “Theokoles!!”

The crowd screamed and cheered and the massive man burst from his side of the arena with arms raised high and he screamed with pride.

Theokoles pointed one of his two spears at Bucky and then spun them both around.

Bucky stood firm where he could see Cassia and he didn’t even look to his opponent.

“This is a fight to the death!” Claudius shouted over the roar. “The winner of this Primus will receive a Rudis! And with that, his freedom!!”

Cassia walked to the edge of the Pulvinar and gripped the harsh stone.

Claudius dropped an arm and yelled, “Begin!”

Steve was at Cassia’s side in an instant, eager to see the fight.

Theokoles charged Bucky with a roar and Bucky swung his swords in one full rotation and prepared for impact. 

The fight felt like it took ages and yet it seemed to be nearly over in minutes. Bucky landed fair hits to Theokoles but the beast of a gladiator paid his wounds no mind.

Bucky took blow after blow as Theokoles showed no mercy. Theokoles cut Bucky’s side, back and right shoulder. Bucky was bleeding and fading.

“Steve,” Cassia’s breathing was short as she feared the worst. “Steve stop this.”

“There’s nothing I can do,” He said as he watched in horror.

“Kill him, now.” She said as she glanced to her father.

 Steve considered it but, “I-” She could see he was afraid.

Marcus looked over to his daughter. “My, Cassia, I never have seen you so invested.”

She turned to him, her final hope. “Father, please, if you have any love for me, I beg you to stop this game.”

Marcus looked stunned and offended, “Stop the games? Why would I do that? Look at this crowd!” He gestured an arm out and Bucky screamed as Theokoles landed another blow. “They love this!”

Cassia’s heart sank in despair. Bucky swung his arm around in an attempt to cut his opponent but Theokoles hit him in the jaw with the back of his spear. Bucky stumbled back and looked up to Cassia. Blood ran from a cut on his head, over his eye and down his face. He was covered in blood and sand and as he looked to Cassia, his eyes told her he knew he couldn’t win.

“Father, please!” She cried.

It was then that it dawned on Marcus. “Cassia, do you-” he chuckled, “Do you have feelings for Winter’s Soldier?”

Theokoles grabbed Bucky by the hair and laughed. Bucky whirled around as best he could and sliced through the back of Theokoles’ knee, severing the tendons. Theokoles screamed out and dropped to the ground. Bucky regained his footing and the crowd was stunned.

To stir the people in his favor, Bucky raised his arms and screamed so loud, he felt his vocal chords ripping.

The crowd joined him in praise.

“Looks like your beloved might  survive after all,” Marcus taunted his daughter. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

Bucky turned to the pulvinar and raised his armored arm to Cassia.

Movement behind him caught her eye but before she could even breathe, Theokoles hurled a spear at Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. He looked over at his shoulder, his arm dropped as he watched the blood drip down his chest.

The spear had impaled his left shoulder just below his armor. The bloody spear head stuck out through the top of his chest. He struggled to breathe. It must have hit his lung.

Cassia screamed out his name.

Steve turned to Marcus. “Stop the games,” he demanded.

Marcus waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. Friends or not, that man,” he pointed to Bucky, “Is a criminal and chose to be a gladiator to pay his dues.”

“That man is a hero and you know it to be true. You condemn him to death for sport and to elevate yourself, you selfish-”

“Hold your tongue, Captain.” Marcus warned.

Bucky stumbled forward, eyes finding Cassia’s again. His mouth moved but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Theokoles stood on his only usable leg and grabbed his final spear. He changed his grip and prepared to strike but before he could, Bucky dropped to his knees and threw away his swords.

 He held up a finger to the pulvinar, a sign of surrender in hopes his life could be spared buy the call of the editor.

“Marcus!” Cassia called at her father. “Call life!”

Marcus grinned. “I do not make the call.” He turned to Claudius, “Senator, how should we proceed?”

Senator Claudius stood and watched the crowd. Most of them threw out a thumbs down, urging him to call for Bucky’s death. They favored Theokoles and Cassia knew it.

“I won’t be from him in death.” Cassia said to Steve. “Help me.”

The sands of the arena were only ten feet below. Cassia climbed over the waist high stone and Steve helped lower her to the sands.

“Cassia!” Marcus cried out and stood from his chair. “Have you gone mad?!”

The Senator, who ignored the commotion around him, smiled to the crowd and stuck out his hand- thumb down.

The crown began to chant and cheer, “Death! Death! Death! Death!”

Cassia lifted her robes and ran to Bucky as fast as she could, but it wasn’t fast enough. She watched as Theokoles drew back his final spear and hurled it at Bucky’s back. The spear went straight through his chest and came out the other side dripping in blood.

Cassia screamed, “NO!” and ran faster.

Bucky lurched forward and caught himself with his hands. Trying desperately to take a full breath. He could hear her voice but she seemed so far away.

Cassia stooped over as she ran and grabbed one of Bucky’s swords. Tears blurred her vision but accuracy was not important. She shouted and with all her might she slashed at Theokoles, who was turned away in victory.

The blade sliced open his side and some of his organs slipped out. He cried out in agony and fell to the sand. She climbed on top of his crumpled body and slung the sword again, lodging it in the place where his neck met his shoulder. She flinched when blood splattered all over her.

Theokoles did not get up.

Cassia didn’t know if she’d killed him or not but she didn’t care. She ran to bucky and fell to her knees in front of him. “Medicus!” She screamed, “Please, someone fetch the medicus!”

She drew Bucky’s head up and blood dripped from his mouth. It hung loose from his jaw and his eyes drooped.

“Bucky,” She sobbed, “Bucky, please, don’t leave me!”

His hand reached up weakly and touched her bloodied cheek, smearing it into her skin. “You’re hurt.” He whispered gruffly.

She shook her head. “The blood is not mine. Bucky, please get up. We must go.”

A scream from the crowd and Cassia’s head turned to the pulvinar. Her father lay halfway over the balcony, Steve above him, stabbing him in the chest two, three, four times before turning on the Senator.

 He must have found his courage to pay his debts.

Like a bolt of lightning, men on horses swarmed the arena sands firing arrows into the crowd. Everyone screamed and ran from their seats.

But the chaos meant nothing to her.

She rubbed her thumb across his cheek. “Bucky, get up.” She cried. “Get up!”

Bucky’s hand fell and a flash of blue caught Cassia’s eye. Her necklace slipped out from under the armor on Bucky’s left arm- he’d wrapped it around his wrist.

Bucky looked up to her. “You are...always with me, my love. And I...with you.” His voice was fading as was the color from his face.

She lifted his head, where he could no longer, and kissed him. She pulled back with his blood on her lips and in her mouth. “I love you, Bucky. I love you with all that I am.”

“I love you...Cassia,” he tried to breathe but instead wheezed and coughed blood, “My life...my...only…”

Bucky fell to the ground, eyes open and gripping Cassia’s hand firmly. She cried out in agony and wept over him. Her hands palmed at his hair, brushing it from his face as she kissed him again and again, begging him to return to her.

The arena was burning. The screams of the crowd had long faded and now only a few men on horses remained.

A hand grabbed her arm and tugged. “Cassia, we must go!”

She turned in her grief to see Steve’s eyes pleading with her. “Please, we must go, now!”

“I won’t leave him!” She cried.

“You must!” Steve wrapped his arm around her waist and heaved. Cassia was lifted from the bloody sand and thrown onto a horse. Steve mounted behind her and took off.

She screamed and begged him to go back but he ignored her, wiping the tears from his own eyes at the sight of his closest friend dead upon the sands.

The Falcon rode up beside them and called out, “Follow me! This way has burned down. The only exit is north!” Steve followed behind The Falcon and Cassia wailed as they passed Bucky one final time.

Bucky’s body lay still in death. The sand around him was stained red. His opponent dead several meters away. The wind blew the fire all around as the arena continued to burn.

Cassia’s necklace remained wrapped around his wrist.

*  *  *  *  * 

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