#Somehow feels like Persephone x Hades energy... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Persephone’s Symphony | Day One | Hades

Hey lovelies— here is the next part! I wanted to pause here and add a little note: the word tiny is thrown around here. I don’t want this to hinder anyone of you to not read this because you think the word doesn’t apply to you. I want to make a couple things clear. 1) All shapes and sizes are beautiful and I, myself, am a wonderfully plump lady. 2) I don’t use the word as a physical description in a way meant to limit a ‘reader insert’ type of fiction— I use it because Bucky Barnes is a super soldier and anyone would be small to him. Thus I hope you can enjoy it the same way I can— because sometimes we all just need to feel like a super soldier could rip us in half. Stay safe my lovelies and please do enjoy!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: some angsty moments but overall no warnings

Word count: 4.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She’s tiny. That’s the only thing he can think for the first couple hours. She is so damn tiny and fragile and soft and he doesn’t know how to be around a human that tiny and fragile and soft. Maybe it’s worse because he has to keep this tiny human alive. He hasn’t had to do that before— all the other tiny people in his life have been perfectly capable of keeping themselves alive. Even Steve all those years ago, when he only came up to his shoulder—barely— would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Even then it always felt like Bucky was just there in case. Maybe that was just Steve though.

He blinks— he doesn’t want to think about the man right now. He can’t afford to get lost in his head. Gods only know if he starts thinking about those days— the ‘good’ old days— he won’t stop. Maybe not for days. Maybe because they’ll remind him that he’s not supposed to be here— that he isn’t made to keep tiny, gentle, grilled cheese cooking, question asking things alive. Usually he’s the one hindering people from being alive— hindering life itself. Usually it doesn’t bug him this much but he can’t help but equate the girl in the Caltech hoodie with life—

“Is what they say about New York pizza true?”

— And himself with death.

“S’alright— Chicago is better.”

He watches as she flips through a book that she had picked up off the coffee table a few minutes ago. The Big Book of Dogs. Is he supposed to laugh at that? She is— giggling and flipping through pages upon pages of puppies. It isn’t aimed at him, her musical, soft sounds. She isn’t laughing at him. It only feels like she is. He’s learned to separate the difference these days— it’s just in his head. Still, he has to turn away from her, using the guise— his job— of being a bodyguard to keep his gaze moving.

From the corner of his eye he watches as she lowers the book, peaking over at him from behind a peppy looking Alaskan Malamute— yes, he knows his dogs. He is one, after all.

“You know, I think there are quite a few people who disagree with you on that one.”

Bucky pretends to ignore the way she quirks a brow at him, her eyes drifting back to the page. He also ignores the way his heart spikes at the little movement. Snap out of it, Barnes. He stands, stalking to the living room window and pulling back the heavy green curtain. Nobody is out there— he didn’t expect there would be someone, he just needed to move. How many more hours?

“Thought you were asking me.” He quips, staring out towards the bayou where the water has turned grey and choppy.

He watches as the rain pours down the window pane, tap tap tapping in front of his nose as the sunlight surrenders to the misty storm clouds. As much as he hates to admit it, Wilson was right— the rainy season’s rolling in on the dot. Even he is starting to feel the effects, his bones beginning to leaden.

As if on cue, she yawns, setting down The Big Book of Dogs and curling her legs into her chest, hiding them beneath the mountain of fabric she wears. “I was gauging. Consider it a test.”

Bucky huffs— not sure if he’s annoyed because of her questioning or because of how, despite the tension still laced through his shoulder blades like sailors knots, he isn’t that bothered by it. Annoyed because he isn’t annoyed— that’s a first. He lets the curtain drop again and turns to the TV where Netflix lays open but unused, blocking out one mind numbing haze for another. What would they even watch together?

“Oh yeah? Did I pass?”

Maybe some cheesy sit-com. That feels harmless enough and he’s been catching up on a few of them. Some of them even make him laugh. Maybe that’s in poor taste though. He’s never had to deal with someone else’s grief before— he rarely deals with his own as is.

“Maybe it would be better to just not ask that.”

He doesn’t think before he says it— he doesn’t have time to, it slips out before he can grab it and shove it back in his stupid, sentimental mouth. “You sound like Steve.”

Fuck. Her head pokes up, her doe eyes somehow managing to meet his gaze despite how hard he tries to force his neck to turn in the other direction. How does one person look so soft? He can see the question in her eyes, the way they spark with intrigue. He watches in slow motion as her lips— not glossy like they had been in the picture but still just as pink— peel apart.

“Who’s Steve?” Her voice is too sweet— too sincere. Like she actually doesn’t know. Then again, maybe she doesn’t— they never really used his name.

Bucky can’t answer. It’s too early and Steve is too long of a story. One hundred years worth of story, to be precise. How is he supposed to fit all of that into one answer? He can’t. He can’t answer but he can’t not answer either— not when she’s looking at him like she wants to know every little thing about him.

Bucky can’t answer so he doesn’t answer. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

She sinks back against the leather cushions, pulling her hands into her sweater. He almost curses when she curls her knees closer to her body. He can’t really see them from under her hoodie but he can see the movement— the way she wraps her arms around her legs so that she looks like a tiny blob of fabric and a head. His chest squeezes at the sight of her pulling away from him. Can he ever say anything right?

He told Wilson— he told him that he wouldn’t be a good fit for the job. What, a man like him? Man, dog, wolf, asshole. What’s the difference? He was right, that’s all that matters. It’s been all of five hours and he’s already making her uncomfortable all because he can’t—

“You’re the one who brought it up.” She grumbles, her soft— less sweet— voice pulling him from his unintentional staring contest with her forehead. His neck flushes with heat. Shit.

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s just— it’s a long story, doll.”

Again, it just slips out. Instead of wanting to push the word back into his lips this time, though, he wants to punch himself in the mouth. Doll? Really? He watches as her eyes blow wide, his stomach sinking when her pink lips peel apart again, her jaw going slack but none of her honeyed words coming out this time. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Immediately he begins running through apologies in his head. Of course none of them are actually worth their weight— not in gold or anything else. Not even in the energy it would take to say them. What’s he supposed to say? Sorry the last time I spoke to a woman was eighty years ago. That would be even more explaining. Damnit, Bucky!

He tries not to groan out loud, clenching his jaw, still staring into her eyes. Look away, you idiot! He can’t. He’s about to say something— or maybe he’s about to literally throw himself out the window, he isn’t exactly sure which is going to play out just yet— but before he can do either the delicate girl in the Caltech sweater speaks first.

“I— erm—” she squirms in her seat but her eyes stay latched on him the entire time— maybe she’s a fighter after all— “we have time?”

For a moment he just stares at her, lost in the way her nose scrunches, her lips pressing together like she’s the one who said something out of line. Like she, too, is contemplating punching herself in the face. That’s when he caves. It’s to save her from a broken nose. He repeats it like a mantra. He isn’t giving in because he’s weak, he’s giving in because it’s his job to make sure she’s safe— even from herself.

He takes a step forward, only now realizing he’s been standing in the middle of the room the entire time. Has he always been this fucking awkward? Nodding his chin towards the floor, the space in front of where she’s perched, he shoots her a look he can only hope resonates as something along the lines of ‘can I sit?’. She nods and he lowers himself to the ground in front of her, leaning against the side of the couch as gently as the super soldier can muster. Despite his efforts he still lands with a thud, the couch shifting backwards a couple inches. It’s not terrible— she only slightly flinches this time and he only kind of wants to bury himself alive.

“Not that much time—” he watches as her face drops, the way her her cheek twitches like she's sinking her teeth into it, and he hurries the rest of his sentence— “but if you ask—” he tries for a smile that feels more like the right side of his face seizing than anything— “then I’ll answer.”

He waits for a beat, his gaze locked on her hands which she pulls from her sleeves only to twist together again. He has to stop himself from looking down at his own hands— from thinking again about how fragile and delicate she is. He doesn’t have to look to know that both of her hands could fit in one of his. Especially his special hand. She hasn’t asked about it. A few times he’s caught her peeking at it, no doubt a million questions swirling behind those wide eyes of hers, but those are questions she has kept to herself. He wouldn’t blame her if she did ask, though— or if she was terrified.

“Alright,” his eyes flick back to her face, meeting her determined stare and avoiding the way his chest lightens, “deal.”

He nods.

“But—”

Oh no.

“You have to ask me things too. It’s only fair— that way we both know things about each other.”

It’s only fair. He doesn’t know what to say. Again. It seems that every time he feels like he’s beginning to figure her out he gets shoved on his ass. Literally— he is quite literally on his ass right now. All because of what? A little girl? A little girl with small hands and a stare worse than his?

A little girl who thinks he of all people deserves fair. He knew life was cruel but this is worse— this is evil.

“Ask away.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Wait, wait, wait— you can’t be serious!”

Her giggles sound more like music than laughter to him. Usually he hates music— the newer stuff at least, maybe Wilson was right; maybe he is an old man— but this is bearable. This is mesmerizing.

He glances up at her from over his shoulder, fighting the same smile that’s been threatening his lips for the better part of two hours now. He isn’t sure why exactly he does it. Maybe because he knows it would be nothing compared to hers. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t deserve to be compared to hers. He isn’t a religious man but it feels blasphemous to even suggest he could exist with a margin of the sanctity she exudes. He’s committed many sins— that he can say with certainty— but to propose that he is the same as her would be the worst one of all.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from soaking up every pious laugh into his wicked skull— he isn’t a perfect man, after all.

“Deadly serious. Steve was pissed at me for weeks. How was I supposed to know she had a husband?” He is rewarded with more giggles, ones that set his chest on fire.

Is that what happens when demons spend too much time around angels— they start to burn?

She pulls the blanket she acquired around an hour ago over her face, muffling her laughter much to his dismay. “You could have asked her!”

Bucky lifts a shoulder before letting it flop back down again. “You’re right.”

This is how it has gone since he proposed she ask him questions. She asks him her question— usually something light and easy— favourite color, favorite food, what was the last thing he bought. That one threw him for a loop but he answered anyway— Chinese food. She had giggled at that. You don’t seem like a Chinese food kind of guy. She’s not wrong. That is usually what she does after the questions, though— giggles. Giggles and teases him. Tortures him. Same thing. He doesn’t even think she knows what she’s doing.

Then, of course, he asks her questions of his own. They’re pretty much the same— favorite animal, middle name, what Passadena is like. Warm and busy. That was her answer— he’s never been to SoCal so who’s to say whether or not she was telling the truth. He really doesn’t care. He was more paying attention to the timbre of her voice— the way she makes normal words sound important. He didn’t know he could be so enthralled listening to someone talk about a cat named mittens.

For the first hour or so it was questions like that. The easy, no commitment kind. He wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed like that but, as he kept answering, she had grown more and more confident. Honestly, he didn’t mind that either. It was interesting to watch as she became comfortable around him. Well, more comfortable than before— more comfortable than he would have thought she could be around a guy like him. Her knees eventually pushed out of that hoodie and she relaxed into the couch. It was strange— completely and utterly strange.

By the second hour she had braved the first of many hard questions. It wasn’t what he thought it would be— still nothing about his arm— it was nothing close to that, actually.

It was about his mother.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a hard question but it was, unexpectedly so. His mother. He hasn’t thought about his mother in years. Longer. Decades. He wasn’t expecting to feel so guilty about it but there he was, feeling like his throat was being crushed, while describing to the tiny, lovely girl— who has just lost her own mother— his mother’s lily of the valley perfume. He assumed that’s why she asked— because she misses her mother. He doesn’t blame her. He just never thought that he would miss his mother, too, today.

The rest weren’t as bad as that one. They still made his jaw ache, sure, but not like that. The ones about Steve were the only ones remotely comparable. How did you meet him? What was he like? What’s your favourite story with him in it? That was the last question— the one that made her giggle herself into a half hanging, half sprawling position over the arm of the couch— the position she is currently in right now.

He doctored the answers a little bit— he figured now isn’t the right time to tell her he’s pushing a hundred and ten— but he kept the good parts. Like how Steve and he had run through the streets of Brooklyn that night— Steve without a shirt and him in nothing but a pair of boxers that he is pretty sure to this day had belonged to her husband— being chased by the New York police. Good times.

“What, erm, what was her name?” Her voice is extra gentle— airy.

She’s nervous or maybe out of breath. He can’t quite tell, she’s too flopped over to get a proper look. She’s breathtaking either way.

All of a sudden it’s extra hard to fight back his smile. “I thought it was my turn to ask a question.”

Sitting up, she pools back into her seat. She scrunches her nose at him but doesn’t object. He can see that she wants to, though. Her eyes hide nothing. Then again he’s been trained to read people— to see the minute tick of her jaw and the invisible pulsing of her pupils. Invisible to anyone but him. Invisible to anyone who isn’t a monster— the big, bad wolf. His borderline smile dies quickly and he can’t bring himself to search for it again. This is how it should be.

Bucky clears his throat, mulling over what to ask her next. His eyes drift over the tan hoodie, the frays on the cuffs and the fact that there are no strings, and, like that, he has an idea.

“What’s the deal with that hoodie?” He tries to make it casual but he really does want to know— it’s like four sizes too big, there has to be a story.

He tries to make it casual but she still sobers. Like her hands receding once more into the cuffs of her sweater, the last remnants of the giggly girl fade from his line of sight. He chases it as far as he can, watching as her fingers disappear completely and lingering just in case it’s only a fluke. But no, they don’t come back, and he wishes he could disappear with them.

“It was—” her tongue pokes out, swiping against her pink lip and making it shine— “it was my dad’s. He, uh, he went to Caltech too. Was part of their alumni.”

The super soldier nods, pulling his legs up as well, hoping that by copying her she’ll see it as a signal to keep going. He doesn’t want to speak over her and accidentally derail her thoughts. He wants to know about her dad— her whole family actually. Whatever is important to her, like the hoodie.

“We used to go to these big alumni dinners and he would talk at them. Families like us were invited I guess— like a thank you of sorts.” Her eyes take on a faraway look, still latched on his but glassy and distant, no longer actually seeing him. It’s a look he understands too well. “One time he pulled me on stage with him. I think maybe I was thirteen? He said—” she stops, swallowing so hard her throat bobs, and he has to shove his hand under his leg to keep from reaching out— “ah, I’m sorry. He said ‘this girl right here— this is my daughter! If you think I’m good at what I do then you should see her. She’s something I tell you— Gonna be the best this school has ever seen!’”

His chest tightens— not necessarily from her story but from the way her voice cracks, her soft tone becoming scratchy. She swallows again and he hates it. He hates that he can see tears ready to fall and he hates that she’s even here with him under these circumstances.

He hates that he’s still grateful to be here anyway, being the person who she tells her story to.

“Was he right?” He knows it isn’t his question but he has to say something— anything— to make this better. He has no idea if this is it but it’s worth a shot.

Her brows push together, her head tilting slightly to the side, much too elegantly to be normal— are all women this pretty or is it just her? She blinks, clearing some of the mist, eyes drawing over his face. She traces across his brows, down his nose, stopping on his lips for a pulse— like tracing out the rhythm to a song only she can discern. Everything she does is like music. It must just be her.

“What?” She doesn’t say it rudely; she says it like she didn’t hear him— like she was too far lost in the wonderland of her memory to hear anything— and his chest tightens even further.

“You said your father told everyone you were going to be the best— were you?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her, slowing his words and waiting for the recognition to creep in. It takes a moment but it does, the last of the glass evaporating into something else.

“I, uhm, I don’t know—”

“You do.” He presses— he can hear the edge of that something in her tone. The downplay is scribed over her feature— lowered eyes, flat mouth, trembling fingers— she wants to say something.

“What do you even know?”

About anything going on in my head— yeah, that’s not familiar at all.

Bucky doesn’t flinch when she hisses the words at him— partly because, despite the clear ice in her words, he doubts they came out as hard as she was hoping they would. Her voice isn’t made to sound wretched. He knows she could tell him the filthiest things— tear him down to the last peg, spit his name out like a curse— and she would still sound like an angel. That makes her dangerous— or at least it would if she didn’t already have tears welling up in those big eyes of hers again.

He flicks a brow, letting one corner of his mouth tick up, telling himself that it’s only for her peace of mind— to let her know that he isn’t angry at her. That he gets it. That sometimes he feels so fucking confused and hurt and scared that he, too, wants to hiss at people because at least then they leave him alone. Yeah, it’s only for her peace of mind.

“Try slamming the ‘you’ harder next time—” he draws the word out, exaggerating the motion while keeping his features a mixture of schooled and relaxed— “usually works out better.”

Her hands— which have been tangling over the collar of her hoodie— drop into her lap with a thunk, her eyes rolling. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome— but you never answered.”

She shoots him a deadpan stare— well, sort of. She never actually stopped looking at him so her face just morphes from vexed to blank. So far it’s his least favourite expression— he would rather she just got angry. He’d rather see fire— or ice— than nothing.

“I thought it was my turn?” Doesn’t she know that the more she avoids the question, the more he wants to know the answer?

Bucky doesn’t let up— he will if she actually tells him to drop it but she hasn’t and he doubts she will— she’s too determined to win. “Consider it payment for your extra questions.”

He holds her gaze still, waiting for the moment she folds. It takes longer than he expects it would, sitting in silence with her eyes on him for almost three minutes. He almost breaks around two and a half minutes. The girl has a way of looking at him like she can see right into his head. Still, he holds, waiting, waiting, waiting until finally— there it is!

Light a light shining in the darkness, her mouth pulls into a merciful smile— well, if mercy means the coy glint in her eye, that is. “I was the best.”

The super soldier nods, finally letting his gaze drop. He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t have to. His point has already been made. He never wanted to be right. He just wanted her to say it. Not for him but for herself. He doesn’t let himself mull over what that says about him. Nothing good. That’s the only answer. It says nothing good about him, the lengths he’s already willing to go to keep this soft, icy girl safe. Him, a monster. It only tells him that he’s selfish— but he already knew that. Those are thoughts for another time.

“Your turn.” He reminds her, leaning back against the arm of the couch, all but aware of the foot of space between his head and her hand which is scratching over the leather behind him.

There is no pause this time— no beat, moment, or minute. Just like that she’s back, moving on to the next topic, almost as though she has had the question queued for ages now, dying to know the answer. He supposes it’s only fair— she let him ask his questions.

“What was her name?”

Her voice lacks the airy note it had held the last time she asked, clearly over waiting, and he has to turn to the window to hide the way he finally cracks, his lips sloping up in a grin that’s both too alien and too familiar. It tastes too much like the old days— like peach schnapps and movie theatre popcorn. She’s not ready for that. He knows because he isn’t.

“Delores.”

_______________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky (if i missed anyone I am so sorry please shoot me a message and I’ll fix it)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #Persephone's Symphony

143 notes · View notes

anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

Home: Chapter Five

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing, THIS PART HAS THE SEXC TIMES YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

word count: 4k

a/n: this is pretty much just fluff so pls enjoy :) also please comment you have no idea how much it means to me I cry when I get them lol :) also I have a playlist for this one so go listen if you would like!

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

When you woke Azriel had somehow wrapped his entirety around your frame, including his wings, tucking you tight against his chest. You pulled back slightly, moving your legs, trying to regain feeling in your muscles only to be greeted with a grunt and being pulled even tighter against his chest.

“Good morning to you too,” You giggled reaching up and pecking his jaw, smiling when he tilted his head to look down at you. He had a frown on his face but a playful look in his eyes none the less.

“Morning,” The deep tones of his voice vibrated through his chest and you bit your lip at him as he chuckled at your reaction. You lay your head back down on his chest listening to the soft patter of the rain on the roof, the storm had hugely calmed down however it was still raining lightly outside. Azriel’s hand moved to your back and you tensed as his hand moved over your scars, tracing pictures, and admiring them as if they were a piece of art. You lay in silence for minutes or hours, losing track of time as his scarred hands and your scarred back became one, soft murmurs keeping you barely awake as you spoke about nothing.

You eventually had to pull away when Azriel’s stomach was too loud to ignore. A shiver went through you as you sat up, not only losing the direct body heat but also the comforting press of his shadows as they had settled over you. The feeling of their embrace was an odd one; they were cold, and their darkness was everything you had grown to despise, yet they made you feel safe, indestructible. They felt like armour passed to you by the man you were falling for and gave you the feeling that as long as he was beside you, nothing would hurt you again.

Your eyes moved to where he was pulling on his trousers, the expanse of his back rippling with restrained strength and making your mouth turn dry. He turned when he felt your gaze on him and you were once again shocked by how pretty he was. You had admired handsome celebrities before, but he was different, he had an elegance you hadn’t seen before. Every movement was planned and smooth, no stumbles or mistakes as he moved, even when he was ill he still held that perfectly poised form, you presumed centuries of training did that to a man.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to get me some food woman?” he said, grinning cheekily when you smacked his shoulder.

“I will hurt you.” You scrunched your face at him, pulling your underwear on and rolling your eyes when you picked up your ruined bra.

“I promised you wouldn’t need it didn’t I?” He smirked, climbing over you, and pressing wet kisses into your neck. You smiled leaning into his attentions, bursting out laughing when you were once again interrupted by his stomach and he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Ask nicely,” you nudged his cheek with your nose, and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh please my darling, please do me the honour of eating your food so I may have the pleasure of devouring you on a real bed.” You laughed and sat up again, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Better.”

You were sat on the small balcony you had fashioned, leaning against Azriel’s firm chest, his arms tight around your waist. The clouds had cleared away and the forest was filled with the smell of evaporating water, you had been pointing out and naming species of lizards you saw basking in the morning sun, trying to get their internal temperatures back to a temperature they could function at. Azriel listened patiently as you spoke animatedly about the Komodo dragon you had seen the first night, he was in awe of how excited you were talking about animals, smiling as you explained how reptiles had always fascinated you.

“We once had a quest in L.A and I made everyone stop for like twenty minutes cause I wanted to take pictures of this frog I saw.” You giggled craning your head back to see him shake his head at you.

“You’re insane.”

“And what about it?” You closed your eyes, leaning back against his shoulder, letting the sun sink into your skin and imagining you could feel the individual particles wake up with the newfound energy.

“How are you feeling anyway? Do you think you could get us home today?” You asked, pulling away to sit next to him cross legged, your head resting against his bare shoulder.

“Probably, I just need more food and I don’t actually know where your house is.”

“Do you need like coordinates or something cause I don’t have that.”

“No, more like the area, it would help if I had been there. I could probably get us to the alley in that tall city again.” You laughed at his phrase.

“Okay that’s fine we can get a cab.” You stood up and climbed down the ladder, moving to a fresh patch of earth.

“A cab?” he appeared besides you, making you yelp and press a hand to your chest.

“I hate you, and yes a cab, it’s a car.” You explained, passing him an apple.

“Car?”

“Gods, an automobile. A carriage that isn’t run by horse but instead machines.” He just made a sound of agreement and you giggled.

“Oh you’re going to love it, those big ol’ wings stuffed in a metal tin.”

“Please no,” he dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there and you debated the question that had been stirring in your head all morning. You frowned and focused on the potatoes you were growing, trying to still the thoughts gnawing at your brain. Was this a one-time thing? Gods he’s going to go back to his world and forget about me. I mean he’s immortal. But we’re acting like a couple, is that what we are now?

Azriel sensed your panic as your eyes glazed over, the vacant expression a sign that you were too deep in your own thoughts. He quickly looked around for something red, ready to get rid of it at any cost, but couldn’t see a glimpse of red in the green that surrounded the two of you, so he instead tilted your head to look at him, your eyes wary.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked, thumb stroking your cheekbone reassuringly.

“It’s nothing, I’m just being stupid,” you tried to laugh it off, but he persisted. “I just- where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that, you’re immortal right? And I’m not. And you’ve probably got other girls lining up back in your other world and I,” He motioned for you to continue, eyes unbelievably soft.

“I don’t want to be alone again. I was alone when we met because I can’t socialise like I used to, but I’ve got so used to this, and I want- no I need you to be happy and I’m sure that’s home for you but. I don’t want you to go, I don’t want you to become a memory that I think of when I’m sad.” He didn’t know what to say, hadn’t even considered it really. After he realised you were mates all he could think of was a house that you would make a home, he imagined a cat and maybe chickens and you with a rounded belly and a toddler on your hip. He hadn’t thought of the reality, you were mortal, you wouldn’t have eternity with him, your body couldn’t bear Illyrian children and he would lose you before you had really even had time together.

His heart broke as you took shaky breaths, hidden in his chest, and he wrapped his wings around you. He was determined, he wasn’t going to let fate cruelly pull you away from him. The first women that had ever loved him in the same, deep, all consuming way he loved her.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out okay. And in the meantime you could come with me?” You looked up at him with glassy eyes and smiled sadly.

“I think I’m falling for you.” You whispered into the crook of his neck and he smiled tightening his arms around you.

“I already have.”

A few hours later you were standing looking up at your makeshift hut as Azriel readied to leave behind you. You watched as a finch flew over and perched on the side of your hut, a small twig perched in its beak, bristling its feathers as it rested.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Azriel sidled up beside you, an arm wrapping securely around your waist. You turned into his embrace.

“My thoughts are much more expensive than that.” He laughed at your difficult answer and tilted his head down, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sighed, tilting your head back to the side. “I think I have to destroy it. Keep the natural world natural y’know.”

“I suppose you do.” He said, the same sadness in his eyes as he looked at the makeshift home you had created him. The one where you had coaxed him through countless sleepless nights as he was overcome with sickness. The house you had shared as he took you for the first-time last night, and then the countless other times that followed.

He frowned but watched in awe as one hand reached out towards the house, your other wrapped firmly around his neck as you grounded yourself. The walls starting to warp and flow back into their original pattern and even when you dropped your hand, a faint sheen of sweat coating your brow, the branches still moved slowly.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked softly, picking you up despite your protests, walking the two of you out of the glaring sunlight and into a shadowed area.

“As I’ll ever be,” you whispered, looking up at him with those impossible soft eyes. To think not so long ago he couldn’t read them, believing that they were emotionless and cold, only to now feel his chest grow tighter and the air escape his lungs every time he locked onto them.

As he looked over your campsite one last time, the small fire pit sitting next to a vegetable patch where you had slept. The river where he had seen your scars for the first time. The whole place was filled with countless memories and as he thought of them, holding onto you tightly, he heard your soft voice.

“I think I’m going to miss being the only person in the world with you.”

You forgot how much you fucking hated shadow-travel. At least when he first did it you were hopped up on adrenaline and traumatic memories. This time however you were mentally present for the whole experience, feeling the sickness overcome you the way it did in the early days of autumn. There was a complete lack of life in the shadows, yet somehow the dark was still grasping at you. Azriel’s shadows had a different feel to them, however. Like the difference between a domesticated and wild dog, and you felt comfort as they protected you against the dark.

Thankfully, soon you were back in the light. The onslaught of noise making you flinch as cars honked and voices filled the air. You looked at Azriel to see he had a similar disgruntled face on as he gently placed you on your feet, steadying you when you wobbled.

You surveyed your surroundings, realising he had taken you to the exact alley you had met him, and you fought away the image of his weakening body on the ground, blood flowing out of him, when you saw the dark stain. You looked at him now, colour in his cheeks and the stern expression he had when you first saw him on. His eyes visibly softened when he saw you staring at him and he grasped your hand tightly.

“Come on,” he said, walking forward briskly, still not at all accustomed to the strange world he was in. it had seemed more familiar when it was just the two of you, but now as he watched you march ahead of him, a tight grip on his hand, head up and face impassive as you stared down anyone who so much as blinked at him the wrong way, his heart tightened again and he pulled you into the next alley he saw. You blinked at him confused but he just pressed his lips to yours in a deep, fierce kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally pulled away, breathless.

“You’re so hot when you’re scaring people.” He muttered and you giggled, repeating the sentiment, and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips again. He smiled into the kiss, confused at how naturally it bloomed across his face and gathered you up in his arms, taking off with a strong boom.

You shrieked and he laughed, holding you tight as he swooped about, before starting a steady pace and looking down to where you were huddled in his arms, eyes clenched shut.

“Open your eyes baby, you need to give me directions.” He said into your hair and smiling as you hesitantly opened your eyes, swearing as you saw the sight of New York below you.

“It’s beautiful.” You muttered, completely sincere as the view took away any sarcastic comments you had bubbling. He grinned and did another loop as you laughed loudly, hair flying about your face. He finally stopped and nudged your head with his nose, you slowly lifted a shaking hand as you released it from the death grip you held him with a pointed in the direction of your home. He took of that way, with you sometimes muttering more specific direction until he landed you on the road in front of the gate that led to your cottage.

Your legs were shaking when he let you down, but you pulled him along the small path that led to your front door, whispering to the plant that kept your spare key and smiling when it passed it to you. You pushed open your door and Azriel followed inside, smiling when he was overcome by your scent. His gaze trailed over your house as he moved through the archway that kept the entrance from the rest of the house. The kitchen was simple, wooden with old fashioned dishes kept in glass cupboards and sage green accents, a worn-down table with mismatched chairs and a simple stove with a kettle and more sage green cupboards underneath. He looked then to the living area, there was a small fireplace and a few armchairs around, the whole house filled with natural light, plants and books in a language he didn’t recognise, but he also noted the string lights you had looping around the beams in your roof, interwoven with trailing ivy.

You wandered over to him, smiling as you tugged on his hand leading him upstairs into a small bathroom. He cringed as he caught sight of himself in the mirror above your sink, before laughing as he saw even more plants on the windowsill over-looking the road.

“Now I really like you Az but I’m afraid this relationship will be over quickly if you don’t shower right now,” you laughed at him as he frowned sniffing himself before grunting in agreement. You reached into the shower and turned the nozzles letting a stream of warming water run, then peeling of your old clothes. Once you were done you stepped under the water, groaning as it hit your aching muscles and Azriel joined soon after, his hands finding residency on your hips and pulling you in for a kiss. You reached around him when you pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, rubbing it between your hands before moving to massage it into his hair, laughing when his expression became that of a blissed-out cat. Practically purring under your touch.

You pulled away allowing him to rinse off as you did your own hair. Soon after the two of you were done cleaning up he pushed you against the wall of your shower, kissing you harshly and pressing the length of his body into you, smirking when you mewled and arched your back into his wandering hands. One of his hands groped your breast as his other travelled south, gentle fingers trailing between your legs and stroking your wet folds. He moved to press kisses against your neck when you gasped for breath as he pushed two long fingers into you, the texture of the rough scars adding to the euphoria you felt as you moaned into the steamy room. His thumb moved to rub softly against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, your walls tightening around his fingers as you neared your orgasm. The pads of his fingers pressed into the spongy spot inside you that always made you see stars as he tugged on your nipple and rolled you clit under his thumb all at once making you fall over the edge with a silent cry.

He grinned as he pulled away from you neck, obsessed with way you fall apart from just his fingers. HIs hands usually only brought him shame and guilt but now were filling him with pride as you clenched around them. He pulled them out slowly, sucking your essence off them as you slumped back against the wall, spent. You reached a hand to his erection, but he pushed it away and turned the shower head off and stepping out of the shower, wrapping you in a fluffy towel.

“Later baby, you need some rest.”

You both slowly dried yourselves in silence and you groaned when you looked at your dull skin in the mirror and turned to Azriel biting your lip.

“What?” he laughed,

“Can we do facemasks later?” He looked at your hopeful smile and rolled his eyes, unable to say no to you.

“Later.” He muttered and you smiled before walking through to your bedroom, Azriel trailing like the lovesick puppy he was. He smiled at the sight of your room; it was so very you. The sun was glowing over the unmade bed that was covered in pillows and blankets and, upon further inspection, stuffed toys, making it look ethereal. There was even more bookshelves and a wardrobe and burnished mirror, your windowsill had soft cushions on it and a pile of stacked books next to it. And of course, plants. Everywhere. He walked further in as you fished out clean clothes and he frowned when you passed him a pair of boxers.

“Whose are these?” he asked, trying to keep his possessiveness tamed as he thought of another man living with his girl, his mate.

“Mine, they’re comfy.” You shrugged, pulling an oversized sweater on and bringing it to your nose, revelling in the clean smell. Azriel blushed bright red and quickly pulled them on, adjusting them as he watched you bend over to pull on another pair of boxers. You moved to sit in front of your mirror, fixing your hair as he ran his hand over the spine of the books, not recognising any titles, jumping when he heard music suddenly play and quickly searching for the source. He moved over to where you were looking through folders of disks.

“I lost my phone and I only have my dad’s old disks so it’s a lot of 50’s sorry,” you giggled as he stared in wonder, listening to the soft tunes. You turned to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying softly to the music, your head on his chest.

There's a place where lovers go To cry their troubles away And they call it 'Lonesome Town' Where the broken hearts stay.

You can buy a dream or two To last you all through the years And the only price you pay Is a heart full of tears.

He smiled and held you softly, dancing with you as your breathing slowed, completely relaxed. Soon the song finished and a new one started but instead of continuing to dance you looked up at him with tired eyes and a soft smile and he tugged you over to your bed, laying you down gently. Your body sank into the impossibly soft mattress and he laid down next to you, your arm waving slightly as your trailing ivy tugged your thin curtains together. His shadows settled over the two of you and you grinned up at him, as sweet as spun sugar.

“I love you,” you whispered softly, voice shy.

“I love you.” He repeated, kissing your head gently as you burrowed deeply into his arms, the two of you falling asleep as soft music played through the room.

Azriel woke alone, golden light in his eyes as he noticed the lack of your weight pressed into his side. He panicked instantly, jumping out of bed, and racing down the stairs, only calming when he saw you in your kitchen signing quietly along to a song coming out of the radio on your table. His heart rate returned to normal as he moved wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck as he watched you flip pancakes.

“Pancakes?”

“I’m allowed to be a stereotype if I want to be, it’s my house.” He laughed and moved to where a pot of coffee sat on the table, preparing his cup. His friends always laughed at the feared shadow-singer when he put two sugars in, and he was struck with homesickness when he did it now. You turned off the stove and put the plate in front of him, pouring your own coffee and drinking it black with a longing sigh. He groaned as you laughed when he reached for the creamer.

“What was it you did for a living again?”

“Shut up.”

You giggled and took two pancakes, coating them in fruit and syrup as he followed suit. They both devoured the mountain in minutes, and he reached over, pulling you onto his lap, your kisses sticky and sweet with sugar coated tongues. He took you again right on the table, before carrying you back to your room to take you there too, addicted to the soft sounds that fell from your lips.

When you finally pulled away from each other, some hours later you reached for your laptop. “I believe I promised you movies and Tony Stark,” you said, fingers moving across your keyboard as Azriel watched over your shoulder as the screen changed before his eyes. You found the first Iron Man movie and started it as Azriel stared at the screen, blown away.

“So this is your technology?” he asked, eyes filled with childlike joy as the movie began.

“Yup, and this film had technology we don’t have in its universe.”

“Cauldron.”

“Plus I figured I should introduce you to the loves of my life that are the marvel men,” his grip on your waist tightened and you laughed, “they’re not real Az, I’m not going anywhere.” You pressed a kiss to his lips and leaned back. You brain finally at peace as you laid back in the arms of the man you loved.

You tensed when the suit first appeared, the red colour of it making you clench your hands into fists and Azriel was quick to reassure you, moving to turn the film off, but you stopped him.

“This is my comfort film, and if I don’t start somewhere I’ll not make any progress. Just- can you hold me please,” you asked him, and he kissed your temple.

“Always, my love.”

You finished the movie together and moved to watch the next, hours passing as you found yourself completely consumed by the man by your side, ignoring the pressing concerns for now and instead focusing on his steady heartbeat. Content to stay in his arms forever.

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acofas #azriel x reader #Azriel #Heroes of Olympus

52 notes · View notes

zu-is-here · 3 years

Note

Hi Zu!

Well, being supportive and thoughtful is a part of friendship, so of course that's what I do for you, and that's what you do for me, it's mutual and that's the whole point ☆

Have you ever collected anything? From candy wrappers to, I don't know, coins or post cards or anything else. If so, do you still have your collection?

I need my tea super sweet, so it's about five or six spoons of sugar for my mug. And I do leave the spoon in there, for somehow my tea is more delicious that way (x That, and it's merely a habit at this point.

I don't celebrate anything, to be honest. Not in the way other people do. I give gifts, compliments, reminders to take care, and so on and so forth whenever I feel like it, not on some certain days. I honor those who died in wars whenever they come to my mind, and I try to educate myself about certain problems whenever I can. I don't need a certain date for that. If some people do, I respect that, of course. It's just... What I saw my whole life was absolute hypocrisy, and nothing else. People who never spared me a single moment of their attention and even people who hurt me congratulated me when my birthday came, wished me "all the best" just to continue being absent in my life or hurting me right after that. New Year never went without a scandal, without me crying until I had no energy left. On the ninth of May I saw people who made jokes about war being all pompous and so full of themselves, as if it were them who won the war and gave the next generations future. And don't get me started about something like National Women's day, which got twisted into the monstrosity we see every year, or, even worse, celebrations about diversity — race, gender, sexuality, all that. I know all of those are needed and make the difference, despite all that hypocrisy and cruelty. It's just me. I don't need it all.

Oh, the movie was amazing! I totally see why my beloved's gone to watch it, like, five or six times. Now I really want to watch it with her, and not in the cinema, so we could pause any moment and discuss things. Besides, she knows much more than I do about this universe, so I'd get to know more as well! For now though, I even guessed right quite a few plot twists, and yet was utterly smashed when they happened! [Warning! A bit of spolers ahead!] I mean, I didn't know that much about Oleg (although later my beloved said he seemed pretty much OOC in the movie), but still I realised it wasn't him almost instantly. Do you remember when Sergey tried to run from the journalists somewhere in the beginning? That's when my intuition went wild. And I was right! And yet somehow it made me even more shocked when the truth was revealed. Oh, and I totally see Swap!Sans as Dima! Especially after Dima said that he freezed the case about those fridges (x And by the way, did you stay until the end? I hope you did, because there is a scene after cartoon credits and a scene after normal credits. Ohhh, the music though! Absolutely awesome, as well as the visual part. And actors. And all the layers of meanings. And everything, honestly. I love this so much, and I'm so glad I got to see this on a big screen. (Sorry for rambling, I just couldn't resist! What a performance!.. (x)

Насчёт тегов не волнуйся, всё однозначно работает и в приложении, и в браузере. Я точно знаю, потому что слежу за обеими группами больше, чем кто-либо; недаром когда-то меня прозвали Левиафановедом (х

Hm. I've never gone to the Sea of Azov, so no idea here, but as for the Black Sea, if you go by car or train, it's about a day, I think. A bit more, a bit less, but overall something like that.

Awww, that's so thoughtful of you! Thanks a lot! It really makes my day to read your messages almost as soon as I wake up 💞

It's not that messy, I'd say (x And oh did I enjoy the new one, I was so delighted and terrified at the same time!.. And I can't help but hope for the happy ending (as well as for actual Persephone and Hades, to be honest; it was one of those myths that got right into my heart, so...)

It's not much, but yes, I would love sharing with you! I'm still too shy and uncertain to jump into most of the discussions though, but thanks for the reminder that I have every right to do so if I wish. I really appreciate that. I suppose I'll make it another ask, so this one doesn't get that big.

Take care! *hugs*

Hi anfie╰(*´︶`*)╯

I was just really flattered that you noticed this in my reply to @help-im-a-gay-fish, it was so attentive and courteous of you (〃ω〃)

As a child, I used to collect "Love is" gum inserts <3 Now I have no collections, except for some rare things maybe, like a ten-ruble bill ☆ What about you? *^*

Oh wow (°▽°) Didn't expect you loving your tea that sweet! Reminds me of tea in school cafeterias or in summer camps (being good for brain activity of course but so sugary, blep!) (>3<) Did you like the food in school cafeterias btw heh?

I'm very sorry that you have such an unpleasant experience and aftertaste of the holidays (◞‸◟) That's really good of you not to follow the date and to honor the memory, like, anytime. And I feel you, it's more like a... indulgence? I can't find the right word for this expected sign of unnecessary attention, especially from those who we have nothing in common with. After all, who doesn't want it, doesn't do it, right? Many close people don't contact at all, but here we are, being complete strangers yet putting our souls into simple messages to each other every day. ♡ There's something bittersweet about it. Maybe, if not for the holidays, many people would never cross their paths again. So that's what unite us in this world, after all. Even if it's nothing more╰(*´︶`*)╯

Well, let's not make it sad heh! I'm so glad you enjoyed the movie too (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) [tw spoilers]:

Your intuition worked so well *^* Cause I just began to doubt only at the moment when Sergey said he'd call the police, so Margo asked him again, and Oleg replied something like: "Don't forget to say you knew about everything from the very beginning." And Margo said nothing, that's what seemed strange to me. So the twists and turns were really unexpected! %) And Dima frizzing the case— it was so sweet that he started making puns himself! <3 Oh I did! ☆ I was warned about this beforehand so even the grumbling cleaning lady was unable to kick us out until the movie was completely over heheh *^* So don't be sorry, and thank you so much for your feedback ♡

Левиафановед? *0* Это от самого автора? Вот это я понимаю — погрузиться с головой! ☆

Quite a long road (・∀・) Bet it's faster to go to other countries by plane! x)

Sorry I didn’t manage to reply you by the morning, hope your day's going good though! <3

Oh thank youuu (๑>◡<๑) Guess @help-im-a-gay-fish has a happy timeline for them both, at least by the sweet headcanons here ♪

Then I'm looking forward to your thoughts about it! Take care *hugs* ♡

#ask #zu is happy

11 notes · View notes

delicatelyherdreams · 4 years

Text

Pragma(tic) 22: She Unleashes Hell

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4163

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, fighting, war, death

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 21: She Faces the End

The cry of agony was not yours.

But you felt it. You felt all the pain in the pitch just resonating around you. You could feel the agony and mind-numbing pain and it shocked you to your core.

Especially when you recognized the scream’s owner.

And it was then that you registered the lack of extra pain you felt and slowly peeled your eyes open.

And then you saw it: the body lying before you—the bloody body.

Bucky’s body.

Your lips parted in a scream as you saw Bucky writhing on the ground, ichor coating the entirety of his left side. It was just pouring from his arm—

No.

Not from his arm.

From the stub where his arm used to be.

He had taken the blow meant for you, somehow diving in front of you just in time to save your life, but not his arm. If you forced yourself to look, you would see the severed limb just lying in the grass feet away from its body. The scythe had cut through the bone like butter and left Bucky in terrible pain.

“Oh my gods, Bucky!” you cried out, your voice tearing through the air. You forced yourself to a crawling position despite the pain, ignoring all your nerves flaring up in protest as you dragged your limp body to the spot where Bucky lay. Nothing else mattered to you; not your father standing bewildered apart from you, not your siblings rushing over, not anything.

All that mattered was getting to Bucky.

As the adrenaline coursed through your veins, you could feel your healing increasing its pace. It seemed like your body was also desperate to get to him and care for him and it knew that, in order to do so, it would have to be at its best. Feeling slowly returned back to your right arm as the wound healed just enough to function. You crawled the few agonizing feet to Bucky’s side and fell beside him. Your vision clouded with red and tears as you pulled his head into your lap. “Bucky!” you sobbed, holding his head between your cold hands.

His skin was on fire and his eyes were squeezed shut. His lips were parted as he grunted and whimpered in pain. The sounds broke your heart. His hand blindly groped the side of his body as he tried to squeeze his limb to alleviate the pain, but there was nothing to grab onto. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stump of his arm. It’d been severed right beneath the shoulder. You weren’t even sure how it was possible. How had he jumped to be cut in such a way? Why had he done it?

“Bucky, you’re going to be okay,” you whispered to him, your voice trembling. “You’re going to be okay… You’re going to be okay.”

It was Kronos’ laugh that drew your eyes away from your maimed love. Bringing them up to your father, they flashed red and you felt heat rising in your chest. A fire burned dark and hot as rage filled you. “You…”

Kronos was too busy holding his stomach to hear the malice in your voice. “What a foolish boy!” he cried out in between laughs. “An imbecile! He thinks that by jumping in the way he can save you? Hah! As if his sacrifice will make a differ—”

“Silence!” You swiped your hand at him and the rage flowed out of you. Manifesting in the shape of a wall of darkness, your power slammed into him and knocked him flying through the air. The titan had only a moment before he was sprawled out on the ground two dozen yards away, crippled by the raw force of your anger.

With him at a distance, you turned your gaze back to the man lying in your lap.

He was losing color at an alarming rate and you knew it had all to do with the vast amounts of blood that were flowing from his arm. He was bleeding out. You knew one of his arteries was severed and contributing to the steady flow of ichor.

“Pietro!” you called desperately, searching for the god of medicine. He would know what to do. He would know how to save Bucky. Your eyes scanned the field and, there, across the valley, you saw him struggling out of his fight to get to you. But even with his enhanced speed, you knew he wouldn’t make it to Bucky in time to do anything.

Unless you did something to help first.

Your mind was racing as you looked around. You had no string or anything of the likes that could be used as a tourniquet. You had nothing to stifle the flow. He was going to bleed out before you could save him if you just did nothing, but what could you—

And suddenly, looking through the red lenses that covered the world, it struck you.

Hellfire coursed through your veins. Fire could possibly stop the bleeding.

It certainly wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but it was something.

Your breaths were labored as you pulled Bucky closer to you so that his head was pressed against your stomach and you could reach his arm better. Bending over him, you reached forward with both hands and cupped the stump.

He thrashed in your lap, reaching over desperately to try and tear your hands from his flesh, but you held on, his ichor staining your fingers with the sickening color.

“Oh, please. Please let this work,” you whispered as you took a shaky breath and commanded the fires of Hades to flow through your body and to your hands.

It was mesmerizing to watch. Your veins glowed red beneath your skin, surging with power and warming your body tremendously. It flowed through your arms, stemming from your heart until it came to rest in your hands which were glowing white with fire.

And that’s when the pain really hit Bucky.

You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling at that moment, but from his screaming, you knew it was excruciating.

Your heart wept for him, but you could not stop. As much as you hated this now—seeing him hurting like this—you would hate his death more.

You kept the fire on the stump for only a few more moments, feeling the flesh cook beneath your skin, before letting go. The fire dimmed down and you were able to look over him in his entirety.

He’d lost a lot of his color, but the bleeding had been stopped. Sweat made his skin shine and plastered his head to his forehead. His usually plump lips were chapped and parted as he drew in ragged breaths. His face was screwed up in pain, his eyes—those beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much—were squeezed tightly shut. He couldn’t even open them. His hand was balled into a fist, probably to help him handle the pain as much as he could.

Your gaze softened as you brushed your hand over his head. Despite the fire lingering in your flesh, he was burning up. “Oh, Bucky…” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Why did you do that? Why are you so stupid?”

A shadow crossed his body and you looked up right as Pietro knelt by Bucky’s side. The god did a quick scan of the man in your lap before he got to work, conjuring medical supplies out of thin air. “You’ve cauterized the wound,” he said as he began to dab at it with pristine white gauze. “The bleeding is stopped but he’s not in the clear yet. Don’t worry, I have him.” His eyes flickered up to meet yours and he smiled softly. “You saved his life. Nice thinking.”

You could only nod. “I… I didn’t know what to do… What can I do?”

“You can win this war.” He was looking back down at Bucky’s arm as his hands moved swiftly. “Defeat Kronos. The other titans are down. Kronos is the only one left.”

You glanced up and, sure enough, your four uncles were either on the ground or in chains being handled by the gods.

You could see Tony and Pepper holding onto a broken and bloody Crius whose hands were bound in vibranium chains. One second they were there, the next they were gone—teleported away to, probably, the Underworld to return him to Tartarus. One by one, the other gods followed suit, taking their respective titans away. No one dared go near Kronos.

Your father was still sprawled out at the other end of the valley. However, he was stirring now, pushing himself up. Your attack had taken him by surprise and he was only now recovering from it. You could feel his rage rolling toward you in waves.

He was the only one left; the only obstacle in your path.

You grit your teeth and, after gently pushing Bucky’s head off your lap, rose to your feet. Your bident had materialized in your hand again, finding its home in your palm. The pain in your shoulder was almost nonexistent now, the hellfire you’d conjured having aided its healing. You felt good. You felt powerful. And you were going to end this. Sparing one last glance down at Bucky, your stare hardened. You could do this; if not for yourself, then for him.

Your strides were wide and purposeful, and every step you took sent thunder ringing through the air.

All the gems and minerals in the ground moved with you, the wealth you governed shaking the earth. The air itself was charged with energy and electricity, and it took you only a moment for you to realize that your sister was causing that.

Carol fell in stride with you to your right, her lightning staff crackling. Her eyes glowed with energy as she looked over at you, a firm smile on her face. “We’re doing this together. You’re not alone.”

“I could kick our dad’s ass,” Natasha chimed beside you, a smirk of her own crossing her lips. “I think it’s high time he learned his place.”

You chuckled. “Damn right. Together.”

Flanked by your sisters, you marched toward your father who had risen to his feet and was now glowering at you with crimson eyes. His lips were curled back in a sneer as he twirled his scythe threateningly. “You think that you can defeat me now that you have your darling sisters?” he demanded. “I am still your father. I brought you into this world and I can take you right out.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You met him halfway through the valley.

Carol literally jumped the rest of the way as she brought down her lightning on him. The clouds darkened above you as the weather bent to her will.

Natasha came in from the ground, the earth shaking with every step. Her earthquakes tore crevices in the earth as she swept her trident in his direction.

You charged him straight on, interlocking his weapon with yours and driving him back. You could feel the hellfire filling your body again and you channeled that heat to your bident, turning the black metal red with energy.

The three of you struck him at once and it was magnificent.

Attacking from all sides, he didn’t know which way to look to defend himself. When he was fighting back the lightning, a bident and trident struck his side. When he fended off the bident and trident, lightning bit his back.

You were vicious as you attacked, your anger and rage renewed with a vengeance. With your sisters at your side, you felt that there was nothing you couldn’t do.

And your father seemed to realize this too.

The red of his eyes intensified as he raised his weapon and slammed it into the ground. The wave of force that rolled out knocked you away from him.

You flew back half a dozen feet, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from falling.

He followed you closely, cutting an arc at you and slicing down your chest in your moment of vulnerability.

Gods, it hurt, but your healing was on overdrive and the pain didn’t last for long. And even if it had, you weren’t alone.

As you stumbled back, Natasha took your spot, locking the blade of his scythe in between two prongs of her bident and twisting it. The scythe was wrenched to the side, leaving his torso open for Carol to stab.

He roared in agony and swiped his hand at her, hitting her stomach with the full strength of an enraged titan.

With a thundering oof, she fell on the ground. She skidded several yards before coming to a stop and trying to muscle herself up. You could see the ichor already matting her hair down. It took a lot of force to break a god’s skin, but she’d been hit hard enough to do so.

Natasha, seeing her younger sister wounded, growled and readied herself. Using the force of the raging sea, she charged him, wielding her trident and aiming to strike him in the chest.

But Kronos was expecting her attack and spun around just in time to slice her side open with his scythe. Ichor spilled over the blade, coating it with gold.

Natasha screamed and fell back away from him, clutching her side and trying to speed up her healing process.

You were the last daughter standing and Kronos turned his attention to you. His eyes burned red as he smirked and charged at you. You were the last threat and one he felt he could eliminate easily.

You weren’t thinking as you watched him come closer. You just waited for him to come, and when he was right on top of you, you did what any normal goddess would do: you shifted your grip on your bident so you were holding the base, pulled it back, and swung it like a bat with all your might.

The impact took him off guard and the prongs of your bident slashed his stomach as you hit him away from you. He flew across the field and landed with his back hitting a sharp boulder. His cry of pain rang out, drowning out all other noise.

He was down and—in that second—you knew you’d never get a chance like this again. He wasn’t defenseless by any means (he still had his scythe in his hand) but he was wounded and slower than normal. If you acted fast enough, you might just have a shot at ending it all here and now.

It could be quick. Just a simple blow to the chest to put a stop to this war for good. You could do it.

It wasn’t impossible to kill a titan—just very hard. Like all immortals, they could be killed by your weapons if struck correctly. A blow to the heart would do the trick.

You were getting excited at the prospect of finishing this and you glanced to the side to see if your sisters were feeling the same. But one look at them had your heart sinking in your chest.

They were in no condition to help you end this. Their chests heaved with labored breaths as they stood bent over to conserve their strength. Natasha was nursing a gaping wound on her side and Carol was still recovering from her slide on the ground. They wouldn't be quick enough to land the final blow.

You weren’t sure you’d be quick enough either for that matter, but you knew you had to try. This was a golden opportunity and your window was closing fast. You didn’t know if it would work, but you knew you had to at least give it everything you had—for all your sakes.

But the second you made up your mind, something caused you to hesitate, and looking around at your friends and family, you realized it was them. If this went south and you ended up wounded beyond repair, what were you leaving behind? A family you cherished and a man you…

A lump formed in your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

You’d be leaving behind a man you loved without even telling him you loved him.

Thinking back on it, you never had uttered those three simple words, and now you could possibly die without ever doing so. You couldn’t… You couldn’t just let him live out the remainder of his days without knowing that, despite everything, you really, truly loved him with every ounce of your being.

So, the only logical option, should things go wrong, was to have a backup plan.

Swallowing a lump that had grown in your throat, you looked at your youngest sister. “Carol? Will you promise me something?” Your voice was heavy with premature grief, mourning the words you might never get to say.

She didn’t seem to pick up on the solemn undertones in your voice. “Yeah, anything.”

You took a shaky breath. “If… If what I’m about to do doesn’t go the way I’m planning, tell Bucky that I love him for me.”

That got her attention. She turned her head towards you and narrowed her eyes. “(y/n)... What are you going to do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago…” You tore your gaze away from her and focused on the titan still kneeling before you. Red clouded your vision as you steeled your nerves. “End this fucking war.”

You didn’t give her a chance to object because you knew she’d stop you if she had even a second.

Before she could register the meaning of your words, you were sprinting at your father, power building in you every time your feet hit the ground. You were going to need all the strength you could get.

Your eyes never once left your father as you ran.

He hadn’t changed at all. He still looked like he did when you’d fought him the first time. He still looked like he did when you were young and naive, just wanting your father’s love.

How many nights had you spent lying there thinking about him, about what you didn’t have—wondering what you could’ve done differently to avoid being eaten and avoid the war? How many times had you dreamt of what kind of a family you would be had things gone differently? Your father and mother would still be together. You and your sisters would’ve taken over ruling the universe when they decided to retire. He would join you and your mother for brunch. You could look in the mirror and admire your strong resemblance to him thinking, “Yeah, I look like my dad and that’s great.”

But things never worked out like that. He was a homicidal, power-hungry lunatic. There was no reasoning with him—no redemption. He would not stop until you and everyone you loved were dead.

And so, hardening your heart, you took a literal leap of faith.

The angle at which you fell gave you the perfect shot at his heart. You pointed your bident down, aiming for the critical hit.

His eyes narrowed at you as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. With a trembling hand, he lifted his scythe up to meet you. For a single second, you thought that he’d moved just in time; you thought that he was going to impale you instead.

But he was too weak.

And your aim was too true.

Your bident connected with his blade and the gold of the scythe shattered from the pure force of your strike. He had only a second to realize what you had done before it was too late.

Before you fell on him and the prongs of your bident buried themselves in his chest, the tips cutting straight through his heart and pinning him to the ground.

What remained of his scythe had fallen out of his hand as he sank back to the ground. His lips were parted as shallow gasps escaped his mouth. Ichor appeared at the corners of his lips and began to run down his face in thin rivulets, merging into the rather large pool that was forming around him.

Your arms shook with force as you shoved the bident down further, burying the prongs in his chest until the hilt could move no more. You could feel the ribs breaking beneath the pressure and the muscle resisting the damage.

But he couldn’t stop you.

He grunted as the metal shifted in him, and with a weak hand he reached up to grab the shaft. With all this might, he pushed at the vibranium in a desperate attempt to dislodge it from his chest.

But his strength had already left him. The push was nothing more than a slight force. It wasn’t hard to resist.

And it was then that he seemed to realize what had just happened.

It was then that he realized that he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive.

His breaths turned to wheezing as his punctured lungs tried to heal themselves. However, the unbreakable vibranium in his flesh prevented his healing from kicking in.

Fear filled his face as he gazed up at you, his firstborn and his killer, and he understood his death. He opened his mouth, but no words came out; only a strangled rasping you knew would haunt your dreams forever.

Death is a strange thing to see, you decided. The agonizingly slow pace of it can drive a person mad, and the pure horror of it is enough to terrorize even the strongest man. To know that this life before you is ending is a harrowing weight to bear on a soul.

But, in this case, it was necessary.

You took a moment to just look at him; to see him alive one last time if nothing else. Despite the ichor covering his face, you could still see every feature that you shared.

The same hair, despite his being matted and coarse.

The same nose, despite the ichor leaking out the nostrils.

Even the same mouth, despite the chapped and bloody lips.

The same eyes…

His eyes that you’d stolen from him to make your own.

His eyes and their color.

The red…

The red eyes that matched yours so perfectly began to dim with every passing second.

Because as his life left him and the light faded from his eyes, so too did the red—draining away until all that remained was a dull shade that mirrored your own (e/c) eyes perfectly.

Until he was gone.

Your legs gave out and you collapsed, clinging onto the bident and relying on it to be the only thing that held you up over his body. You sobbed. You wailed and cried and screamed as emotions, more intense than anything you had ever felt, washed over you: rage, loathing, guilt, and—most of all—grief.

The grief surprised you, but it was overwhelming.

It was all you could process.

The grief of losing a parent was one you never thought you’d know. Your mother was immortal, and you never really knew your father.

You should’ve hated him.

But your heart, the traitorous little thing it was, still harbored an ounce of love for him.

And it was only that ounce that was needed to feel this grief.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as your chest tried to cave in on itself. Your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head. Your heart hurt. It hurt so bad you just wanted to rip it out of your chest and be done with it. You hated this feeling. You hated him for putting you through this—for putting you through all of it.

But, at long last, it was over. It was done.

Kronos was dead.

You were vaguely aware of your sisters’ presence above you, but it wasn’t until Carol grabbed your shoulders that you actually acknowledged them.

“(y/n),” Carol called softly, her voice as gentle as could be. “(y/n), you’re hurt. You need to let go.”

You didn't respond to her. You couldn’t find your voice. Your heart seemed to have severed your vocal chords as well.

“It’s okay… You did it. You ended it. We can go home now. Just let him go.”

How could you? How could you just let him go? He was your father. He was supposed to be the one to tuck you in goodnight as a child and love you unconditionally. How could you just let him go?

“You’re okay. I promise you’re okay, but we can’t stay here. We need you home. Bucky needs you. We can’t stay here. We have to go.” Carol pulled gently on your shoulders, coaxing you away from the body.

Your fingers gave way without any resistance, the shaft of your bident slipping out easily, and she led you away.

You didn’t even have the strength to resist.

Next 23: Her Heart Betrays Her

#pragma(tic)#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #hades #hades and persephone #hades & persephone #hades & persephone au #persephone!bucky x hades!reader #bucky #bucky x you greek au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #greek au #gods au

468 notes · View notes

peacefulwriter88 · 4 years

Text

Epilogue: Reprieve the Punishments of Yesterday

Part of the Hades & Persephone Steve AU Series

Steve Rogers x WoC, Bucky Barnes x WoC

Catch up on the series here

Warnings: SMUT, 18+

A/N: I know I said this was going to be in three parts buuuuuttttt I had to write this last part. It's the last (maybe) and brings some closure to this series. I also have never written the reader character as one single strand of thought - I always captured her from the eyes of Bucky, Steve or her mother so I thought it would be fun to finally show the reader unshackled by the filter of others

I enjoyed very much exploring my love or the Greek gods played out with these MCU characters and hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed creating them.

_________________________________________________________

I made Hades run to me. He saw my bones beneath and offered me half his kingdom. Do you really think I ate the fruit unwillingly? - Anonymous

Our apartment is quiet. It's Friday afternoon and while the city bustles with energy, another warm spring day that was fighting the former winters cold our home lies still. The buds for the variety of flora, spices and greenery that I’ve planted weeks earlier are already peeking out of their boxes among the windowsill, the air dances with dust in the sunlight and the faint smell of jasmine and hickory lingers in the air - my perfume braided with Steve’s cologne.

I close the door quietly - perhaps Steve has had to leave on an unexpected mission; they’ve picked up more and I’m left a few hours to figure out how to share the news with him. The thought gives me relief as I hang up my jacket, place my bag and purse on the console table as I start to sift through the mail, briefly pause and drink in the fresh vase of peonies that he’s replenished on the dining room table.

It was a lofty thought.

Steve’s steps are heavy and silent but they betray him enough as he emerges from his studio, walks down the hallway with a smile on his face as he wipes his hands on a rustic red cloth. He’s covered in paint, overpowers his white shirt and worn jeans and handsome features of his face, the strong biceps in his arms. Mentally I make a note that I need to take him shopping, that he’s somehow gone through yet another month's worth of clothes and wouldn’t think to go shopping without my urging. His face is clean of the beard I’ve learned to adore, fresh faced and revealing his sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw that still steals my breath away.

He smiles at me the same time I smile at him - how could one person still make me feel like I’m falling in love over and over again three years later - and before I can speak I’m in his arms, gravity an afterthought as my legs naturally wrap themselves around his waist.

“Hello Ms. Benedetti.”

“Hello yourself Mr. Rogers.”

He leans in for the kiss before I can finish the words and I moan into his mouth, treasure the way his tongue lavishes my own, tighten my hold around his neck as he carries me into the kitchen, placing me on a counter. When he pulls away his breathing is hard and he’s giving me that sinister dark look that causes my stomach to drop, my panties to flush themselves in desire and he moans knowingly, mouth raking down my neck.

“Steve, no. We can’t. Sam, Natasha and Bucky are coming over for dinner a few hours from now and we haven’t started anything at all.”

He pauses mid kisses - there’s something bothering him in the statement I’ve said - but he doesn’t reveal it. Instead he pulls away and smiles at me.

“You’re right.”

He still has that dangerous glint in his eyes, lust dancing in his irises and I take the opportunity to lean away from him to rest my head on a cabinet, tug on his shirt.

“How was school?”

He smiles, leans into my touch, keeps a nose distance from my face to his,

“It was fine. I got an A on my last project. Got out of class early, went over some reports for some upcoming missions. Got some work in.”

“Sounds like a very productive day. Congratulations on your A.”

“Ummm hmmm,” he bends, nibbles on my ear, causes a giggle to erupt from my chest. “How was your day? How was rehearsal? And your mother when she found out that you’re going to tour in Italy this summer?”

He says the last part lowly, his distaste to her reaction from the last world tour still bitter in his mouth. His hands find my legs, wrap them around his waist again as I breathe out,

“It was good. A very good day. That pain in my hip has gone away, and the chiropractor thinks that I’m healing well from the surgery on my leg. My mother reacted...the way my mother reacts. But she did express her happiness that I was even considered. She sends her regards.”

“Hmmmm.”

His mouth is busy on my neck, hands moving up my back and dragging me closer to him. It's a lost cause, we didn’t know boundaries to our love and I had rejected his advances this morning when I realized I had woken up late. He was insatiable, needy and I wiggle my hips in his embrace, whisper out,

“You have an hour Rogers. One hour. Then I need to start on the pizzas I promised everyone.”

He lifts me, causing me to laugh as he pulls back enough to look me in the eye.

“One hour.”

______________

Love making with Steve evolves every time, is a mystery that appeals to my mood and I wonder how he knows what I need from him, what I savor.

This afternoon he’s lazy in his touches, kisses me languidly and possessively, hands exploring each part of me like it was the first time again. He’s mindful of how I respond to his touch, takes pleasure in going down on me immediately, his tongue lapping at me hungrily until my need for him is admitted through my words. He takes pleasure in having me ride him until I orgasm not once or twice but until I’m exhausted, he wants me to be worn out as his hands find my hips and juts into me, ensuring that I can feel every inch of him. He watches me reverently, in that way that makes my heart stop and my lungs give away, reminds me that I was given the gift of love.

He’s selfless, only comes upon my urging and when we lay in each other's arms sticky, fingers skating down my arm slowly as he presses another kiss to my forehead I know he knows. Don’t know how he would but something tells me he does.

He confirms it in an innocent question,

“How was your doctor's appointment?”

I hum, watch the way the late afternoon sun falls on our photo hanging opposite on the wall - him and I on our one year anniversary in the coffee shop we met in.

“It was good.”

I try not to have my heart betray the anxious thoughts that have plagued me for four months, the question confirmed in two simple words.

“Your health is good?” I nod and he hesitates, “....and the baby?”

I lift my head up at him and he watches me, cool blue eyes that drink me in. His face doesn’t betray anything and I try to keep the same stoic look but know that I feared his answer. I still answer,

“Yes.”

He looks at me, smiles though his eyes start to betray the fear that also lives in me,

“I didn’t think I could get you pregnant.”

“I didn’t think you could get me pregnant.”

A pause,

“I’ve never thought about being a father. I don’t know if I want to be.”

“That's okay,” I don’t mean for the tear to fall down my face, “I don’t really know if I want to be a mother.”

He wipes it away, drags his lips across my own.

“I don’t know if I want to be a father because I gave up on that future a long time ago. I……..I love you though. I want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy.” I counter back and he pulls away.

“So do we keep it?”

“I don’t know.” I laugh, more tears falling down my face. I bite my lip, rest my chin on his chest. Keep my eyes on his.

“I like knowing that I’m carrying your child.”

He smiles, cups my cheek. He doesn’t deny the tears that start to fall down his eyes.

“I like knowing you’re going to be the mother of my child.”

I sigh, raise my eyebrows,

“We’re going to keep it then, aren’t we?”

He laughs, brushing a fresh tear from my cheek,

“Yea. I feel like we are.”

_______

Bucky and Natasha are late.

Sam, Steve and I pass the time playing charades and munching on the bruschetta I whip up while Steve and Sam sip on expensive wine that Tony has gifted Steve and I. Occasionally I check on the pizza cooking in the oven and salad already whipped up and it's halfway through Steve guessing Spock and my admonishment that Steve even knows what Star Trek is that there's a knock on the door.

I answer it to find a disheveled Bucky in our doorway, black hat disguising his normally bright blue eyes, hands stuffed in his jeans as he gives a slight smile to me. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hi Bucky, are you okay?” I move to let him in and he shrugs, his eyes avoiding Steve and Sams.

“I’m fine.”

I want to push more but know it won't serve anyone so I ask the next absurd question,

“Where’s Natasha? Running behind more than usual?” I try to tease and he shakes his head, moves away from me towards the living room.

“Not coming.”

He doesn’t stop at the couch, or even to snag a drink but instead moves to our balcony, shutting the door snug behind him. I close the door, turn to Sam and Steve who are giving knowing looks to the other, avoiding me.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Sam snickers as Steve flickers his eyes to me. “Explain. You too Samuel Thomas.”

My voice is stern as I cross my arms. Sam looks at Steve, who gets up and walks toward me.

“Don’t put your hands on me until you explain what's up with Bucky and Natasha.” I say as I put up my hand he sighs.

“They broke up.”

“Why?” I ask Sam and he shrugs,

“I actually have no idea. Natasha just told us that Bucky was a piece of shit and she never wanted to see him again. And she might cut off his dick in his sleep.”

My eyes look to Steve who is watching me, a knowing glint in his eyes and I place my hands on his chest, lean up and kiss him, his hands automatically wrapping around me protectively.

“What are you going to do?” he whispers lowly when I pull away slightly and I give a small smile.

“Finally telling him the truth.”

___________

Bucky doesn’t look back at me when I slide the door open, step into the cool evening as I close it behind me. Sam and Steve have turned music on, are checking on the pizza and chatting lowly among themselves and I stand at Bucky’s side, nudge him softly.

“Normally I’m the one trying to avoid all the commotion.”

He smiles, slightly, looks over at me. Watches me in the heartfelt way he always does, eyes saying far more than his words.

“You know, don’t you?” he finally asks.

“I bullied your friends to tell me.”

He sighs, looks back into the horizon.

“They know why?”

“No,” I lean closer into him. “But I do.”

His head snaps to me quickly as I look down at my fingers.

“Natasha didn’t tell me.” I look back up at him and he watches me curiously. On guard.

“Who then?”

I’m silent as I look back at him, sigh as I return my eyes to the sunset.

“Bucky, do you remember the first time you met me?”

He looks away from me, that shameful way he used to before we had gotten closer, when he’s trying to deny something in himself.

“It was….two years ago. With Steve. At that cafe you both like.”

It's a small mumble that I can barely pick up as I look out into the sunset.

“No it wasn't. It was three and I wasn’t with Steve. I was standing in line and I let this couple step ahead of me. You looked at me and looked like a deer caught in headlights. I was listening to…….. I don’t remember aside from it was for a show, I think. I remember being hungry and thinking you were cute but my hunger won over your attractive looks.”

His breath wavers, his metal arm tightens around the rail we’re both leaning on but he doesn’t look at me.

“....what are you saying?” he finally asks and I shrug.

“I’m saying Bucky I know why you and Natasha broke up. It has to do with me.”

He looks over at me and I look back down at my fingers, picking at them. A terrible habit I couldn’t break from childhood.

“You never went to that cafe before that day. Neither did Steve. It was some strange coincidence that on that particular afternoon our paths crossed. And afterwards you were always there. Rain or snow or shine I could expect you and Steve in that same spot, Steve looking out the window aimlessly and you, staring into your cup of coffee until I walked in.”

I laugh, looking up from my fingers into the busy street.

“You really flattered me you know. This handsome guy checking me out every day. It was the first time any man had given me that much attention. I was waiting for you to ask me out but you never did.”

I finally look over at him and nudge him and he scrunches his eyes together.

“You noticed me?”

“Yes. And then you disappeared one day. And Steve remained.”

Bucky bites his lips, presses into the rail. It creaks and he pulls away slightly,

“You went to Steve first.”

“I did. But that was innocent. The cafe was packed and I wanted to read my book. It was the only spot open and I at least felt like…..I don’t know I could sit there and he wouldn’t bother me. Steve never paid me any mind, even when I walked by him. I liked that. He was Captain America but he never flaunted this celebrity, this power he has. It made me feel like I could read in peace and move on.”

“But something changed.” his voice is laced in pain and I resist reaching out, grabbing his hands.

“Yes. The second time I walked by Steve I was looking to sit at the table next to him. It was his art that grabbed my attention. It was the only reason why Steve asked me out. And...admittedly when I gave him a second glance he took my breath away. I liked being in his presence. I liked the safe, calming effect that came from being around him. The way he looked at me. I don’t think I could have fought it,” he turns away from me, eyes burning. “That’s the point Bucky. I know you….I know how you feel about me. I know you won’t let it go. Me go. Steve’s told me about when we first started dating. About you….following us.”

Bucky whips his head toward me in fear. Ashamed.

“Don't be upset. Its okay Bucky. He told me because he felt terrible about the way things played out. But you need to know that I love you, but not like that. I don’t think I ever will love you…..like that.”

I place my hand carefully on his shoulder and he flinches, eyes tearing up.

“Of course.”

“Doesn’t mean your unworthy of it though, the kind of love Steve and I have for each other,” I whisper lowly. “Doesn’t mean you can’t give it. Natasha really loves you. You should…..well not now she might actually kill you but you should fix that. I know she’ll let you after a while. She’s told me how she feels about you. I think you really care about her too and you just let me get in the way.”

He breaks, hands falling into sobs and I wrap my arms around him, draw him close.

“What if I can’t. What if can’t get over you?”

I sigh, rub his back.

“Oh Bucky. I don’t know. Why condemn yourself to hell when you have a chance at heaven?”

________

Tag List: @Sad-af1121, @whichwayisthebeach-Sebass, @theplumbclub79, @4theluvofall, @tatathekissypatato, @baezen, @lostinthoughtsandfeelings-blog, @plumbfondler, @pegasusdragontiger, @prettybubblesintheair, @docharleythegeekqueen, @brieannakeogh, @palaiasaurus64, @emotchalla, @thejenniferincident, @shayla-markele, @supernovasandcoronas, @toastmaster94, @brandybucky, @papi-chulo-seb, @jaamesbbarnes, @paulxrudd, @badassbaker, @letsalltakeanap @papi-chulo-bucky, @moonbeambucky, @jaceyfade, @samingtonwilson, @violentlybarnes, @wehaveathor, @buckfics, @frostbitebakery, @killmongerdreams, @plussizeappreciationfics, @softlybarnes, @prettyyoungtragedy, @angryschnauzer, @221bshrlocked, @yslbucky @zohoffman @ssweet-empowerment@capsofwinchesters@tacohead13@harleycativy@pietrotheavenger@francezka10@papichulosebastian@obsessionsofmynerdheart@melaninmarvel@avengedqueen26@nasteaxluvgal@winterbuttmunch@nys30@buckyslongasshair@ohlumi@wellthirsted @jalapenobarnes @geminimoonbeamx @ssweet-empowerment @chrisevans-sexualfrustrations @xceafh @misskenni @younghades

#steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogerse x woc #steve rogers x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x woc #bucky barnes x plus size reader #steve rogers fan fiction #chris evans #bucky barnes fan fiction #sebastian stan

28 notes · View notes

whitewolfbumble · 5 years

Text

Of Gods & Goddesses - Chapter Four

A Modern & Fluffy Greek Mythology AU with Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The connection was immediate and the mystery behind Bucky Barnes ran deeper and deadlier than you thought. Falling in love has never been this complicated, for a goddess or otherwise. A modern reimagining of Hades and Persephone, with Bucky the God of Spring and you the Goddess of the Underworld.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (aka God!Bucky x Goddess!Reader, Persephone!Bucky x Hades!Reader)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k

MY MASTERLIST // OF GODS & GODDESSES MASTERLIST // CHAPTER THREE

The city was long since in your rearview mirror with the dark green forest a wall on either side of you as you sped through.

He had been a little tense, arms and legs held together unmoving and stiff when the two of you had slid into the black car. Now, the further you had gotten towards your house, the more relaxed he had become and the more tightly wound you had become.

This is insane!, you thought to yourself, repeating it for the hundredth time and gripping the steering wheel all the harder. Never have you analyzed anything less in your entire existence or chosen to disrupt the balance of things in such a way.

What were you supposed to say when he asked why you weren’t there tonight? What were you doing here now? Why had you insisted on doing this?

You couldn’t just steal a god and take him back to your house. There were rules. There were reasons why this wasn’t done.

You glanced to him, eyes shooting over to the passenger side and held him in your gaze for a moment.

He was sitting here, hands folded easily in his lap now, a vision in the dark shadows of the night that veiled you both. But while you sunk into the shadows easily, he was somehow still full of colour and that glow of calm energy, deep jewel tones breaking through the darkness.

His eyes, watching out the window at the greenery speeding by, were a deep alexandrite blue with little flecks of icy beryl set into them. His hair in the darkness looked like onyx with flashes of chestnut and amber and carnelian. As always he had that almost invisible aura of glowing new life, pale and beautiful and small.

You saw another colour too, something light in shade below his eye, forming just under his skin. It was a tint darker than his lips, though you doubted it would stay so light for long.

“Nat told me a little about what happened tonight,” you said quietly, eyes back on the road and mouth as dry as you could ever remember it being. Gods, you could use a bottle or two of champagne right now. “Who did you get in a fight with?”

He pulled a bit of a face, shrugging as he looked down to his hands.

“T’Challa,” he started, stumbling through words laced with sadness, confusion, and embarrassment. “I guess I… well, he said I did somethings. Awful things. But I swear, I didn’t. At least, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I can’t exactly remember.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled through your teeth, trying to quell the cold fury inside you. That was a side you couldn’t let Bucky see yet. “He’s determined guy, I’m surprised you didn’t lose an eye.”

“Steve got him off me,” Bucky admitted. “But I don’t think he was quite done yet. Managed to break away to the balcony.”

“All the better reason to get you out of there,” you said more to yourself, grasping at any straw you could to justify you stealing a god away from his home. And not even one of your own gods working under you.

“Well, I’ve never been to the Underworld before, or your realm at all I guess,” he said, eyes looking somehow brighter. It was almost like he was looking forward to this?

A crooked grin cracked through on your face, a mixture of validation and amusement sprouting in you. You were happy from the distraction from your anger and self-doubt anyways.

“Well, you won’t be able to say that much longer…”

You faded out, the massive black gates and concrete fence looming just ahead. You nodded out the windshield to the structure that was stories high, dark, and intimidating. There was a veil or mist, slightly murky and shimmering just before the gates. You drove through without interruption, passing through the wobbly mist to the clarity of the other side, and officially into your realm.

“We’re now officially within the Underworld now. So welcome to my home, I guess,” you added, frown following. Gods, you desperately needed to brush up on your small talk and social interactions. You’d be cringing over that one later.

You curved around with the circular driveway, a black marble and gold detailed fountain in the middle of it, parking in front of steps up to the impressive front doors. Nothing about your home was ordinary, to be sure.

“It doesn’t have the height or grandeur of the Tower,” you said, feet crunching the gravel underfoot as you walked around to him. “Or as much plant-life as you would probably prefer, but it’s home.”

“I thought it…” he started before turning and walking in step with you up to the doors. “I thought it would be… I guess different.”

You weren’t exactly shocked at that reaction, giving him a smile as you opened the door, pushing it in to reveal the sprawling space inside.

“We’re in my realm, sure,” you said, throwing your keys into a gold bowl on a low white table. “But that back there was the South Gate. The Underworld you’re thinking of is just west of here, at the aptly described West Gate. Here it’s less dead souls and mist covered wastelands, and more minimalism with a cool colour pallet.”

You walked just a couple steps ahead of him, floor to ceiling of windows on your left and modern art decorating the grey concrete walls to your right. Bucky wandered behind you, taking it all in.

“I won’t go over a full geography lesson here,” you said. “But it’s important that you stay on these grounds, within this building. I won’t get into what lurks beyond them, but in here you’ll be just fine.”

You looked back hesitantly, wondering at what point he’d snap-to and demand to be returned. But he quickly nodded in understanding, eyes going back to peek into large rooms as he walked by of what were mostly art collections, sculptures, and rare jewels on display.

You ended up in your living room, with low and long leather couches, a lengthy fireplace set into the wall, and a stocked bar to one side.

“Kitchen is through there, and I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms,” You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stayed in one actually. “If you need anything, I’m here. And Veronica, the A.I., of course.”

You briefly debated going through a tour of all the rooms; anything to keep from having an awkward conversation of questions from him you couldn’t answer yourself.

It was only you and him here though. It wasn’t like you could put off talking to him forever.

He was silent as you turned to him, fiddling with your hands under the silence that was fast turning tense, at least to you.

He only watched you softly though. Was he waiting for you explain why you had broken your promise to him? Why you had abandoned him to a party only to be attacked when he was looking for you?

In the mere minutes from when you first noticed, that mark under his eye had gotten darker. Oh gods, you had done that to him. You might as well have anyway. He wouldn’t have gotten into with another god if you had kept your promise.

He trusted you, believed you when you said you would be there. He had made himself vulnerable and you felt that in turn now.

Your face scrunched a little, sympathy pain stabbing in your soul. Reflexively your hand went up to touch the bruise just under his eyes, the colour already a plum-like purple now. Your fingertips didn’t touch him, hovering just over the spot.

“I’m so sorry,” you said morosely, your eyes glued to the injury but his locked to yours. “I feel responsible for this, I should have been there. I don’t really have an reason I can give. Nothing good enough to justify this anyways.”

You were snapped out of your misery by his hand taking your wrist. His skin was so warm compared to yours, the heat of spreading through you in a moment. Only then did you catch that look in his eyes, soft and intent at the same time. He moved your hand to rest on his face just like you had wanted too, the connection another jolt of heat through your body.

“You still came,” he said, voice low and quiet. “There’s nothing to forgive, Y/N.”

You held your breath as your fingertips moved gently and slowly on his cheek. Bucky did the opposite, not holding his but instead inhaling a deep contented breath, moving in closer and placing his forehead to yours. If his eyes were open he would have seen a kind of thrilled panic in your eyes.

How had you, the relatively brazen one, and the shifting man you met on the balcony switched places? Now you were the unsure one, breath rapid and mind racing, too afraid to move and break the delicate equilibrium of this moment.

How was he this comfortable with you? Why had he wanted you to touch him?

...But did it matter? At least in this moment you couldn’t believe it did, a haziness falling over your brain as that magnetism he exuded overwhelmed you. Combined with that floral, spring rain scent of his you were done for.

You had no choice under that sway but for your muscles to relax into him, his hands coming to your waist to steady you.

“I think…” he whispered, a gentle night breeze on your skin. “I think I missed you.”

You swallowed, another wave of dizzy hitting you. What was he saying?

“You don’t know me, Bucky,” you said, that heady floral smell filling every pocket of your lungs. It was as though you had been transported into a field thick with wildflowers and sun and rain. You could smell the beautiful florals, feel the heat of the sun, taste the mist of rain on your tongue.

“I know,” he agreed, swallowing. “But I still did.”

This was insane and you knew it, but you didn’t care. You had thought about him since you met him. You were losing sleep over him. Torturing yourself over trying not to think about him. Your heart broke when you refused to see him out of your own spiralling doubt. You snapped when you heard he was hurt. You stole him away in the middle of the night. You had him in your arms now and decidedly didn’t want to let go.

“If it helps,” you spoke, barely audible in the little space between you. “I think I did too.”

His reply was unspoken, just the feeling of his arms wrapping and tightening around you.

Yes it was insane, but it was true and in this moment it felt real.

“I think I-” you said, pulling away slightly and stopping short as you saw what was around you.

Mouth ajar you looked around, taking in the scene of your once clean-cut minimalistic living space.

The blue and grey space was filled to the brim now, transforming from a space you knew well into a full blown greenhouse of sorts. Vines had climbed up the walls, covering them in a thick leafy tangle. Green sprouted under foot, thick and lush grass and leaves covering the sealed concrete.

The most stunning were the flowers though. It practically stole your breath away. There were more varieties than you knew, blooming and growing everywhere. Blue and violet Floss Flowers, light peach Peruvian Lilies, white and butter yellow Windflowers, ruby red Persian Buttercups, bright turquoise Blue Himalayan Poppies, and so many more. They filled the once dark room with blooming, beautiful life.

“What is it?” Bucky asked. You looked back to him with a disbelieving scoff before realizing his eyes hadn’t left you.

“Your handiwork certainly brightens up the place,” you said with a grin, gesturing around you.

His eyes glanced to the side for a second before back to you. It took a moment, but his face pulled into one of confusion. Slowly this time he looked around the room and actually saw it now, eyebrows shooting up and eyes wide at the display all around him.

“Oh gods,” he said, instantly fighting within himself to either laugh at this or be embarrassed by it. To your delight he ended up smiling, a moonbeam bright look that made your soul hum in a contented way you swore you had never heard before. “I swear I didn’t mean too. I’ll fix it, I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, a warm smile on you lips. You put your hands back to cup his face, leaning him back down to you, as you had just been.

“Please don’t,” you said, quietly. “Not yet.”

The warmth in you smile matched his, growing as fast as the flowers had.

“Okay Y/N,” he hummed, settling easily into holding you again. Whatever hum your soul had made sounded exactly like the one he did just there.

You thought there maybe should be some awkwardness or shame or something nagging you. But there just wasn’t. Only the smell of spring and his warm arms around you. There wasn’t room for much else.

Your attention was was pulled just to the side of the pair of you, wrapped up together. You thought the movement would be more stunning flowers growing, but you found quickly you were quite wrong.

You didn’t blink and didn’t move, just spoke to Bucky with a clear and steady voice

“Bucky,” you started, voice a warning. “Don’t. Move.”

You felt him stiffen under you just as a distinct vibrating growl filled the room. The aggression in the sound was palpable, and you felt his hold on you tighten, pulling you deeper into him. Slowly he tried to turn his body and block you from whatever was making the noise

“Bucky, don’t,” you whispered, eyes moving to lock onto the large black figure just in the shadows.

“What is it?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. But at the sound of his voice the snarl grew louder and angrier, conjuring up visions of nightmares.

You lifted your hands off of his shoulder, raising them up slowly. Carefully and with deliberate movements, you reached down to Bucky’s hands at your sides and removed them. You held on to one wrist, moving so that at no point were you completely detached from him, but shifting your body so you were in front of him, facing the creature making the noise.

You felt more than a little resistance from Bucky, who was not all too pleased to be behind you, despite being unaware of the danger he was in.

“Bucky… this is Cerberus,” you said, calm and steady. The commanding tone was neutral and controlled, but the threat clearly wasn’t over yet. “Cerberus, this is Bucky, God of Spring. He’s welcome here, and you’ll treat him as such.”

At that there were three distinct clashes of teeth flashing the shadows, snarls and bellows ringing out like thunder. The fury behind them was not thinly veiled at all, murder and blood in every snap and rumble.

This time when you spoke your voice was lowered, sounding cold and deadly and spreading a chill through the room with a single word.

“Enough.”

Bucky couldn’t see it but your eyes were taken over by a glacial blue colour, clouding your irises, pupils, and whites of your eyes completely. It was death and ice and lightning held in your eyes, displaying pure power and directed solely at Cerberus before you.

In the darkness you saw three sets of purple eyes flash with that same icy look. After a moment the growling stopped, and the three set of eyes faded into one pair, melting back into their violet glow.

After that Cerberus stepped forward, looking rather displeased but not murderous at any rate, so that was a start.

You relaxed immediately, moving out from in front of Bucky, who was looking wide-eyed at the creature as Cerberus stepped into the light and jungle of a living room.

He was built like a wolf, long black hair and tail shining in the moonlight coming through the gaps in the vine-covered windows. You walked up to him easily, patting his side. Your head was about at his shoulder, with his sharp teeth and predator eyes looming just above you protectively.

“I know he’s a little dangerous looking, but if you give him space there’s no need t-”

When you turned to look at Bucky you didn’t find him across the room, but right up to Cerberus, both hands scratching the dogs chest and craning his neck up to look fondly at the black beast.

You swore both you and Cerberus had the same stunned and surprised expression on your faces watching Bucky, who had a rather goofy expression on his face.

“Who’s such a good protector, huh?” Bucky said, voice low and like he was talking to an infant. “Who’s a good protector?”

You watched as slowly Cerberus sat back on his hind legs, wary eyes on Bucky before stretching his neck up for Bucky to scratch more.

“Oh please,” you muttered to yourself, leaning against the dog’s fluffy side.

“Who’s such a god boy?” Bucky asked, and you felt a breeze on your legs. Looking back you saw a bit of a wag from your so-called murderous beast.

“Alright, I think it’s time you got back to work,” you said to Cerberus before speaking to Bucky. “And you got some rest.”

Bucky parted with the beast with a last scratch before you two began walking down to the hall to the bedrooms. You casted a glance back to Cerberus, who was hopefully off on his nightly patrol, slinking back silently into the shadows.

“I think he likes you,” you said, a little floored. Besides Cerberus loving you, you didn’t think that was possible.

“That’s great, I-”

“No, that’s definitively not great!” you said, laughing incredulously at the turn of events. “He’s supposed to protect this place, I can’t have him rolling over for complete strangers!”

“What about gods who are not so much strangers?” he asked, the smallest hint of mischief in his eyes.

“I mean I’m happy he didn’t tear you to shreds, Bucky,” you said. You slowed down and stopped in front of a bedroom door, Bucky following your lead and doing the same. “But I think I better have a talk with Cerberus in the morning all the same.”

“So he protects this place?” he said, conversationally with that look still in his eyes. You wondered if he was purposely lingering. If so, you didn’t really mind that at all. You weren’t sure you wanted to say goodnight just yet. “And you while in it, I assume?”

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s usually pretty good at both. The best, actually.”

“So,” Bucky started, taking a step closer to you. “If I were to hold you again, would he show up looking to kill me again?”

“I uh, I don’t know actually,” you said, a heat flushing your face. You didn’t get too many visitors keen on wanting to hold you, the Goddess of the Underworld, afterall.

“Okay,” Bucky said, taking another step closer, the length of his body practically pressed to yours now. If you didn’t know his any better his height and frame would seem intimidating, but your fluttering heart was not out of fear. “Can I try it, just to see?”

“If he does shred you before you can soften him up, you’ve been warned,” you said, trying to hide in sarcasm.

It wasn't exactly a "no" though and Bucky picked up on that with a grin.

Your fluttering heart felt as though it bloomed in your chest the moment his arms wrapped around your waist, pushing the pair of your closer together. Close enough to breath him in, feel his heat, hear his heartbeat.

That haze of intoxication filled you again, the connection in you so strong to be near. Now that you had him so close it overwhelmed you, thawing you out and filling you with a bubbly firey warmth. It was like he was turning your cold, wintered soul into spring again.

It could have been minutes or days he held you and you held him, but at some point Bucky brought you gently back to reality.

His lips found their way to your ear, gently brushing your skin as he spoke. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped back rather quickly, breath rapid in your lungs and that warm haze covering you. Again you saw Bucky, now with that same delicate white flower crown wrapped loosely around his head. Again it had bloomed in a quiet moment between you, a beautiful fragile thing, sitting gracefully on his brow.

“‘Night, Bucky.”

You didn’t know how you walked back to your room, or why you change out of your pajamas just to get into fresh ones. This night was not the one you expected to have in the least, your mind fuddled and heart thumping loudly.

When you entered your ensuite, running the tap and heating up the room with steam, you looked up and saw yourself in the mirror. Somehow, wrapped around your head in a small circle was a wreath of dark green stems with pale blue blooms. Unmoving in front of the mirror, you took in that wreath and it's ethereal glow, seeing those same small white flowers accompanying those little blue blossoms, matching the flowers Bucky had on his.

You still didn’t know what you were doing, but whatever it was you liked it.

_______

CHAPTER FIVE

_______

A/N: Hope you liked this one darling! Please let me know what you thought and if you want to be tagged in this! Thanks!

Permanent Tag List: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @captainrogerrsbeard, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @buckybonky, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl, @cauraphernelia, @cassiopeia-barrow, @ailynalonso15, @1elboomdemsechevarria, @cameronskywalker, @rogrsnbarnes, @verygraphicink, @onlyanothersocialcasualty, @lisalisa007, @james-bucks, @zannemes, @msruchita, @breezy1415

Of Gods & Goddesses Tag List: @holyfuckinghale1975

Buck Barnes Tag List: @bexboo616, @kaaatniss, @lost-in-translating, @emabookcookie, @jewelofwinter, @crazybutconfidentaf, @jitterbuck

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #greek mythology au #bucky fanfiction #avengers #marvel #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers au #of gods & goddesses #persephone!bucky #hades!reader #hades x persephone

321 notes · View notes

softjeon · 6 years

Text

Through the Veil | Pt. 9

• Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Fluff | demon!AU (→ Gifset Trailer) • Words: 8,5k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol and violence / death / graphic content

↳ Jungkook is pretty sure that he is a normal human being, but he is also sure that this book, he got from his grandma, is a cookbook. So when it turns out that the words he's reciting are not to cook some tasty meal but to summon something from the depth of the underworld - then maybe there are a few more suprises for him in stock. « previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

Jungkook let him get dragged along by the ferryman who roughly placed him into a line of people, or souls, as Jungkook realized when he looked a little closer. It seemed like what was left was only the shell off the people that had died. There were mostly old people but a few younger ones and Jungkook gulped heavily.

Persephone had told him, that the mission he was on wasn’t an easy one, but he couldn’t help but feel a little mad that she had sent him off alone. Especially now that he thought about it a little more, as he came, step by step, closer to the boat, he realized that it would be dangerous for him as well. Wouldn’t it be also very draining to be so deep in hell for a human like him? Shouldn’t that have any effects? Suddenly Jungkook gasped for air in panic as he looked around. The waves kept crashing against the boat, as they got closer and closer to the other side. Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his focus on his task. All he needed to do was to find Yoongi. He didn’t know how or where, yet but he was sure he would succeed. Jungkook tried to mimic the other souls to his best ability, by sitting as still as he could, staring off into the distance, looking as unlively as he could. The heat of the air and the pain in his chest was making it harder for him to breathe, as it felt like the deeper they got the darker it got around them.

He hadn’t realized how much time went by until the boat docked on the other side. The ferryman was calling for them to get out of the boats and in line and Jungkook quickly followed. He needed to separate from the crowd, that he was sure of, or else he would end somewhere he didn’t want to be. Persephone had told him about the gate and that the souls were led through it to get to probably pay for their sins. In an unobserved moment, Jungkook quickly sneaked away and hid behind one of the many ledges that came out of the ground and peaked up. It reminded him of Yoongi’s cave and the way all the stalagmites reached up to the ceiling of it. If it wasn’t so hot and dark at the same time, Jungkook would have probably like it and stand in awe for a moment. He flinched right out of his thoughts, when a sudden loud bark made him peak over the stone. “Oh shoot,” Jungkook ‘cursed’ quietly when he saw not one, not two but three heads of a dog that stood right in the middle of the gate, where the souls walked through. He couldn’t help but admit that he was scared. Nervously he watched how the souls got through one by one, the dog carefully sniffing at them. Only when he was sure that everyone was gone through and the ferrymen were sailing back to the other side, Jungkook got out of his hiding spot.

The young human boy cleared his throat, before taking another deep breath. He stared off blankly into the distance, humming and growling like a zombie as he waddled towards the gate in hope that the dog mistook him for a soul that got lost – but unfortunately for him the three-headed dog wasn’t fooled that easily, especially if one could smell the difference between humans and souls. Jungkook froze completely, when the snout of the dog was so close to him, sniffing him up, before baring his teeth with a low growl. It most definitely was a warning – that much he got.

Quickly he backed up again, holding his hands up in a weak attempt to show the big dog that he came in peace. His heart was beating fast and Jungkook blindly ignored the pain that was getting worse and worse. Yoongi must be really hurting. He needed to come up with something quick. Another loud bark made Jungkook flinch and he could feel his hands shaking in fear.

“Think, Jungkook, think,” He said to himself as he tried to come up with a plan, when he suddenly remembered a history lesson from school. They had talked about Greek mythology and even though it was all just stories, some of it seemed to be true – now that he had seen it with his own eyes. Other gods had passed the three headed dog before, they had somehow lured the creature in, with a honey cake for example – but Jungkook didn’t have one - but he had something else. It was the only idea he had, so it was worth a try. He sighed deeply, trying to gather all his courage as he closed his eyes.

Then he simply began to sing, “That I always wonder what you’re up to, pictures I’m living through for now~” He took a step closer to the three headed dog, who looked at him curiously, listening attentively. “Trying to remember all the good times, our life was cutting through so loud~” Jungkook kept on singing and without knowing a hint of his angel magic stirred inside of him, making the dog go pliant with every tone he sang, “Memories are playing in my dull mind. I hate this part; paper hearts and I’ll hold a piece of yours~” The young boy closed his eyes as he kept on singing, his voice resonating through hell. The magic in his voice wrapped himself around the dog, calming him and making him sit, as all three heads yawned, showing off the sharp teeth, before resting it on his paws and snoring quietly. Jungkook carefully walked by, in awe about how easy it was, singing a bit longer until he deemed himself far enough. Only then he turned around, ran away and towards the palace that was stretching itself out on the horizon. It must be Hades. There was no other option.

Just when he had run half the way Jungkook stopped, his breath coming in short pants. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the demon. “Where are you?” He mumbled to himself repeatedly. He wasn’t sure if Yoongi would hear him or feel him or if the bond magically told him the way. Jungkook slowly but surely was starting to panic.

Yoongi was barely conscious, slipping in and out of feverish dreams that were caused by his body lacking the magic it so desperately needed. He was burning up. The wound, the energy loss, the effects of the magic powder, it all had become too much for him. Yoongi felt so weak that even raising his arm felt like an unimaginable task.

He wondered if this was it. If he would take his last breath here. He felt sadness sweep through him like a wave, washing everything else away until the only thing left was this unbearable sadness with a tinge of regret. He hoped with all that he had that someone send by Persephone would find his body as soon as she realized that he hadn’t made it. If she got the shard anyway then maybe she would still be nice to Jungkook. And if Hoseok would stick to his promise then maybe, hopefully, he would help the angel boy to get back up to the living to go back to his everyday life. Sweet, beautiful Jungkook!

He could almost see his face in front of him. Hear him calling his name. His dream Jungkook sounded worried and he didn’t like the fearful expression in the other’s eyes so he tried to tell him that it was okay, that he wasn’t even really hurting any longer but his tongue refused to do its task. Nothing but a mumble came out. Jungkook only looked more scared. He was glad that he had touched that glittery stuff because it was nice to have Jungkook besides him even if he knew that it was impossible that he was actually here. And it was nice to know that Jungkook was safe, far, far away from this.

Jungkook felt a sudden pull in his heart, something that was aching painfully, and he blindly ran in panic. It let the memories of his own death appear and Jungkook choked on a sob, as he followed the pull mindlessly. He wanted to scream out for his demon, but he wasn’t sure if guards were around or if Hades would come back any time. Wiping away his tears, he suddenly stumbled over a little stone. He caught his own fall with his hands that bruised from the stones that ripped his skin open but Jungkook didn’t mind – there was only one thing that he cared about now. He brushed off the dirt, wanting to look up and see how far the palace was still away when he saw something – or someone. His someone.

“Yoongi!” He suddenly yelled out and scrambled on his feet when he saw someone leaning onto a stone, hunched over and eyes closed. “Oh no, please,” Jungkook rushed over to him, cupping the demon’s face right away and patting his cheek to make him wake up, “Please wake up, please be okay.” Jungkook reacted on instinct, pressing his lips onto Yoongi’s hoping it wasn’t too late.

Suddenly something pushed through the haze in his mind and he could feel Jungkook’s lips on him. He wondered how a hallucination could feel so real when the sudden rush of pure energy flushed away the haziness and the pain, the damage and the magic hallucination, leaving his mind clear and fresh and functioning as if nothing had ever happened.

He gasped for air the second Jungkook pulled away, heart hammering in his chest from how forcefully it was pushed into overdrive, the gifted magic busy to close and properly heal the wounds of claws on his chest that the hellhound had left. He needed two attempts at speaking but finally managed when he felt refreshed enough to pull himself into a more sitting position. “Oh god, you’re here, you’re real! You... oh my goddess... you are dead! You’re here because you are dead! I left you alone up there and you died because. Oh Jungkook, I shouldn’t have left you alone, I’m sorry, why did you leave your room, I tried to protect you, Jungkookie, sweet, little Kookie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that…,” He interrupted his sorrowful rambling when his brain caught up with what had just happened. Jungkook had fed him energy. However, he knew how to do that and wherever he had the energy from. But he couldn’t do this as a soul. Not like this. And also, the bond felt pretty much intact. Jungkook wasn’t here because he was dead. But if he hadn’t come down to hell the natural way then how exactly had he managed to come here at all?

“How on earth did you manage to reach me? And why... why would you even help me after ...,” He had left practically right after finishing screaming at each other. Jungkook couldn’t help but cry tears of happiness, smiling at Yoongi in cheer joy that he had gotten him back. “I’m not dead, you idiot,” Jungkook chuckled, “I stayed in just like you said. You think I didn’t see Hoseok being around everywhere I go? And the hellhound came back? You remember him. He kept me company. Staying in front of my door all day. I’m good – Persephone sent me here.” He caressed over Yoongi’s cheek lovingly, sniffling his nose cutely. “I’m here to help you, damn it,” Jungkook scolded Yoongi teasingly, “Stop worrying about me! You are the one hurt!” He leaned in to kiss Yoongi on his lips again, not to give him energy but just to feel him. He needed to. So badly.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbled against the demon’s lips, “I know you’ve been just taking care of me and I hadn’t realized that I was thanking you for saving me with getting myself into trouble more. I will listen to you now, I promise. No more danger.” Despite everything Yoongi closed his eyes when Jungkook's lips met his again and just enjoyed the strange feeling that it gave him to have the younger so close. It was a strange thing to be kissed for real, not in a dream that he had pushed upon him. However though, it ended way too soon when Jungkook informed him about Hades arrival. The sudden loud noise made both flinch and Jungkook pushed Yoongi back, so he would stay where he was, while he looked over the stone they were hiding behind. Hades had returned and even though Jungkook could only see his back, as he was walking with a big smile towards his palace, he was pretty damn sure it was the god himself. “Ehm…talking about danger - will Hades think that you’re waiting there at his palace? Because if so…then we should hurry and quickly go the other way,” Jungkook whispered worriedly, “And I hope no matter what Persephone wanted you to get, you didn’t leave too much chaos? So, he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?”

The adrenalin shocked him back into reality and Yoongi was up on his feet in a second. If someone would see him now they would never believe that he was on the brink of fading away just a few minutes ago. But that’s what the magic could do for him. If it ran in his blood, he was practically invincible. Except maybe for hounds and strange missions in hell that included mingling with business of the gods.

“Nah, don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Or at least everything would be fine as long as Hades wouldn’t go into his storage room. But why should he? And even if he went in there to check for stuff, there were so many things lying around Yoongi was pretty sure (or rather stupidly hoping and therefore telling himself so) that Hades wouldn’t realize that anything was missing in this chaos. Or notice that someone was in there. He hadn’t hurt the hound, the lock was back in place and as far as he knew he hadn’t left any traces - unless the blood from the shard had dripped unto the carpet. Yoongi opened his hand that was now fully healed and where only a bit of dried blood from before told that it hadn’t been like this the whole time. He was staring at the shard, that fragile little thing that could help read the angel’s book and use all the spells inside of it. Like the one to bind demons. And also, to set them free again afterwards.

Jungkook watched Yoongi closely, staying by his side in case he needed someone to hold on to – but he seemed fine. While his gaze fixated on the shard, Jungkook nervously looked around. “Come,” Jungkook wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s wrist and pulled him along, “We’ve got to go home.” He quickly bit his lip to hide the smile and walked ahead and back to where the gate was. “I don’t know if you’d be able to fly all the way over the river, we should better save the energy and get a boat,” Jungkook said quietly, “You have to apparate with two people not just yourself.” The closer they got to the gate, the louder the snores of the dog were and Jungkook was hoping that he just stayed asleep.

Yoongi almost asked what Jungkook meant with ‘home’ but he kept himself from it, just to prevent the younger to realize that soon they wouldn’t be connected any more. Instead he just nodded and followed Jungkook back to the gate because unlike him it seemed as if Jungkook knew exactly where he was going. Seeing the three headed dog sleeping at the gate was a strange sight but at least it explained one of the mysteries how Jungkook had managed to walk around in hell like this. Yoongi made sure to get in between Jungkook and the three headed dog in case it woke up. Because he could take a hound’s claws and survive it but Jungkook wouldn’t. And he wasn’t losing him! At least not like this - over the shard-and-book-way he had no control over.

Jungkook almost giggled with the way Yoongi was pushing himself in front of him, but it got stuck in his throat the second he got pressed against the gate when the dog stirred sleepily, and the demon reacted instinctively.

When the dog opened his eyes and Yoongi told Jungkook to stay still and quiet, the human boy did exactly the opposite (even though he had promised Yoongi to listen to whatever he said only moments ago). Jungkook began to sing again, hoping that it works just as perfectly as it did before. “Hoping that you won’t forget, I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side~” The magic in him woke again, following his singing voice out to its aims. If Yoongi wasn’t so busy staring down the three-headed-monster in front of him that was currently busy sniffing and snarling and deciding which one of them to rip into pieces first he would have whipped around and asked Jungkook if he was insane. He had asked him to be quiet only moments ago and Jungkook seemed determined to tell the dog exactly where they were and get them killed... Still he wasn’t as angry as he should be, not even close.

“But you’ll be good without me and if I could just give it some time, I’ll be all right~,” Jungkook kept on singing, pushing Yoongi quietly to tell him to go on.

Jungkook’s voice was so soothing, so calming. His words were like butterflies dancing around you and distracting you with beautiful colors and their gentle grace. It took Yoongi awhile to get what Jungkook was doing. It wasn’t only Yoongi who was affected by these crystal-clear notes, it was also the hound. With all its three heads. Yoongi watched in awe as the hate melted out of those big, glowing eyes and instead left only room for sleepiness and attachment. The hound seemed to like Jungkook’s voice. Jungkook had made Cerberus fall for him, the guard of the gate of hell. To be fair Yoongi couldn’t imagine resisting that honey sweet voice either. While the dog placed its heads back onto his paws they sneaked further through the gate, Yoongi keeping his eyes on the hound and his grip on Jungkook. He wanted to kiss him out of thankfulness and if it wouldn’t have effectively shut Jungkook up he would have done it right away.

Jungkook kept on singing until he deemed it safe until, only then a wide grin appeared on his face as he looked proudly at Yoongi. He let the demon pull him along and over to where the boats were. In an unobserved moment, both sneaked up to one and Jungkook quickly got in, while Yoongi untied the rope. With a bit of magic, the boat was sailing across the river and Jungkook sighed deeply, the tension falling off his shoulders.

Jungkook let his gaze wander over to Yoongi, while he managed the rudder. The waves kept crashing against the boat and Jungkook flung his arms around himself to keep warm. He could feel that Yoongi was somewhere else with his mind, looking a bit worried, so he spoke up, thinking that it was because of their fight. “Are you still mad at me?” Jungkook asked carefully, “I promise as soon as we’re back I won’t do anything anymore without your permission. I really mean it, that I am sorry. I’ll be good, I swear.” His expression was full of worry and regret, hoping that Yoongi would forgive him. He really didn’t want to fight with him anymore and just wanted him to come back.

Yoongi turned only half towards Jungkook to keep the boat on track when the younger spoke up. He had been too lost in his thoughts about what it could mean if Persephone was able to read the book now to realize how long he had been silent. Of course, it had made Jungkook worry. The younger always got nervous when there was tension. So Yoongi made sure to give him a friendly smile before he leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about it. I guess neither of us really meant what we said during our fight. I know that you felt caged in and I...” He sighed deeply and then decided that it didn’t really matter anymore they would probably go their separate ways soon anyway, so he might as well show weakness and tell Jungkook the truth. “I was just so worried about you that I would rather have you mad at me and alive than in danger. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt or even dead when I come back. I felt so helpless thinking about you being all on your own while I was so far away and unable to come help you no matter how you felt.” Quickly, Yoongi turned back towards the water seemingly emerged in making sure that they would reach the other side quick and safe. He wasn’t sure how Jungkook would react to him acting so ‘soft’ and he wasn’t too keen on finding out.

Jungkook could feel the sudden heat rise to his cheek, making him blush hard. He was looking everywhere but Yoongi, when he mumbled his reply, “I worried about you, too. I do… a lot. Every time you’re away.” Jungkook barely glanced at Yoongi, before he turned his head looking over his shoulder as he saw the shore coming closer and closer. When they docked against the edge a bit away from the usual spots where the boats were, Jungkook quickly jumped out of it and pulled it in using all his strength.

Yoongi tried his hardest not to coo at the younger’s cuteness but then he thought about how he would have felt if Jungkook had done that a minute before, so he quickly dropped it. He did smile to himself though. Jungkook was worried about him. About him, a magically abled, horned, winged creature with claws and the ability to fight his way to almost anything. Maybe he should pretend to be offended that Jungkook thought so weakly of him and watch the angel boy get more flustered. Their arrival interrupted his plans and they quickly tied the boot to something stable enough to hold it. Hopefully one of the ferrymen would find it and not think any more if it besides that one of his colleagues had lost his way a little. It was better not to leave any traces but pulling the boat back to the others wasn’t an option because normally only the ferryman went in this direction and Jungkook and him obviously weren’t that. So, they secured the boat and then ran as fast as they could to hide behind the very next spot that would shield them from other creatures’ eyes. The heap of rocks they hid behind wasn’t big enough to stand so Yoongi sat down, gesturing for Jungkook to come closer. “Come on, I need you to get really close to me. This wasn’t a walk in the park and I want to make sure that all parts of both of us arrive.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly and got closer to him. When Yoongi shook his head and motioned for him to get even more closer, Jungkook just bluntly sat himself on the demon’s lap. “I’d like to get back in one piece,” The human boy whispered and leaned his head onto Yoongi’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “I missed you,” He murmured and closed his eyes, hoping they would be back in the underworld soon. Jungkook definitely had enough drama and danger for today.

To be honest Yoongi had secretly hoped for Jungkook to do just that but he had never thought that the usually shy boy would actually do that. He turned his head to look at the younger’s expression, to see if he was flustered or if he was really so innocent that he wouldn’t know what this was doing to Yoongi. He didn’t come that far though. When he turned Jungkook felt his movement, turning his head towards him as well and Yoongi practically stared directly into his eyes. He could feel Jungkook’s breath against his own lips, a little too quick which gave away that the younger wasn’t as relaxed as he tried to appear. A little smirk stole its way on Yoongi’s lips which had Jungkook licking his lips nervously. A grave mistake. Because Yoongi’s eyes naturally followed the movement and then stayed fixated on those plush, soft, enticingly rosy lips. Way too tempting to resist. Especially with the younger sitting in his lap lice this and the fear of never seeing Jungkook again in his heart. Yoongi easily reduced the distance between them to capture Jungkook's lips with his in a gentle, loving kiss.

The younger one’s heart was beating wildly against his own chest and way too loud for his own liking that he was sure that Yoongi could hear it and feel it with how close he was. He stayed still, when Yoongi kissed him so sweetly. It felt so good. As if the other’s lips were made for him – and only him. Jungkook sighed, kissing him back, as his hand wandered up to Yoongi’s neck, deepening the kiss right away. He was desperate. Starving for the demon’s kiss. He shifted in his lap, wanting to get closer, to feel even more of the other against his own body.

Jungkook had never reacted so strongly before and it messed with his head to have the younger kissing him back like this. How should he control himself if Jungkook made it seem like he wanted this? Yoongi opened his mouth to give him entrance and then took the chance to taste Jungkook too. He had no idea if it was the angel blood in him or if it was just a Jungkook thing, but he tasted so sweet that Yoongi couldn’t get enough of it. When Jungkook shifted in his lap he groaned quietly, trying to swallow it down but failing. God, what was he doing to him? The demon gave in to what he wanted, tightening the grips around Jungkook’s waist so that he could feel Jungkook’s body closer to him, completely forgetting where they were and what he should be doing instead.

Jungkook’s hands were gripping on tight to Yoongi’s shoulders, all while he couldn’t get to separate his lips from the demon. Only when he needed to take a breath he pulled away, gazing right back at Yoongi under him, his chest heaving. “I…I really think,” His voice sounded a bit too breathless and he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say anyways, so he leaned in again, kissing Yoongi eagerly on his lips, mumbling something about how they should go back to Persephone soon – but he never stopped kissing the demon. He just didn’t want to stop.

“Right. Persephone. The shard,” Yoongi only responded in between kisses, hooked on how Jungkook’s lips tasted and how his body felt against his. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted more… so much more.

Yoongi shuddered and then got a bit of distance in between them when he remembered again that one of the reasons why Jungkook was smelling so sweet was because he had never done anything like this before. He couldn’t take that away from him. Especially not if they would part soon and Jungkook would get back his life where he could find himself some cute, harmless human where he was at no risk of being eaten or whatever else he had already stumbled upon while being in the underworld. It wasn’t his place to ruin Jungkook like this. He hesitated, before stealing one last little kiss from the younger and then changing the position of his hands, hugging him tight but innocuously. “Close your eyes,” He warned him, before he send them both back to Persephone’s palace.

Jungkook obeyed easily, holding on tight to Yoongi, when he felt the familiar pull of them apparating again. Only this time, it felt different – a little bumpy maybe and Jungkook held on tighter to the demon on instinct. Even the landing wasn’t as easy as it normally was and Jungkook tumbled over Yoongi completely, pushing him further down as he screamed out. There were thorns and branches pricking him, poking him at the sides and scratching his skin as he tried to decipher where he exactly was.

Great. Yoongi coughed when something leavy poked his nose. He should make a mental note to himself ‘never try to transport you or others to somewhere else after kissing someone who makes your heart race like that because you will end up thinking about him instead of the place you should go to and then land in some fucking thorny bush’!

He tried his best to help Jungkook get out of the green mess they were constantly caught in and then crawled out himself. “M sorry, I guess... the exhaustion,” He finished lamely, hoping that Jungkook would just believe him and not ask question on how he could still feel exhausted when he got pure energy from Persephone kissed into him. Yoongi shook his head to get rid of the hunger that thinking about being kissed by Jungkook evoked. Not the physical hunger that he had satisfied by feeding of Jungkook’s little sinful dream encounters. It was a different hunger, one that he couldn’t quite explain and that had him getting itchy and nervous around the other.

Yoongi roughly tried to get the leaves and dirt off him as best as he could before nodding towards the palace, “Let’s go. The sooner I get rid of that thing the better.” At least he had landed them somewhere close.

Jungkook followed Yoongi, staying right by his side as he dusted the dirt off his clothes. Yoongi walked straight towards the main hall, where Persephone was already waiting as he had felt the appearance of her demon. With a sheepish smile on her face, she looked the two up and down. Yoongi instantly bowed for her while Jungkook was busy picking a few leaves out of the demon’s clothes, only stopping when he gave him a side glance. “Sorry,” He mumbled and quickly bowed as well.

The goddess didn’t mind the dirtiness of their clothes at all but sent Jungkook off to take a bath anyways. This way she could talk alone with Yoongi. Only when the door was closed, Persephone reached out her hand with a knowing smirk, “I’m glad my present arrived safely. Do you have what I desire in return?”

Yoongi was tempted to tell her ‘no’ as a little payback for how close he had been to dying this time - but it was her who had saved him with the help of Jungkook, so it wouldn’t be fair to be so cold hearted now. Therefore, he reached into his pocket and gave her the shard, its edges still covered in his dried blood. “I got it. But I am not sure how long it will take Hades to notice its missing. He had a hellhound to guard the door. Maybe he will know someone was there because of the dog. And as I was the last one he saw before leaving he might rightfully think that I am the thief and…”

Persephone interrupted him casually, “Don’t worry. I made sure you are safe. He won’t remember who was with him before he met me. So if you didn’t leave a picture, or his dog can paint portraits you don’t have to fear him coming for you. He’ll probably hear about me having an angel’s book sooner or later anyway, rumors are hard to keep from spreading, and the more powerful and rare the item the sooner the news will spread. But as long as he can’t proof it he won’t say anything. That’s why I chose you. I knew you would do anything to get back to your little angel. He found you right away, didn’t he? I was worried about his lack of experience, but I guess love is stronger than anything else, isn’t that what people up their say?” She winked at him and happily turned the shard between her fingers making it gleam. Dismissing Yoongi with a wave of her hand, she let him think about her words alone – or not, if he rather decided to grumble and think that he was untouchable and would never be in love or something familiar. Persephone chuckled to herself as she retreated to her room. From the moment he had seen the both together, she knew there was more than just the magical bond between them and now with the shard, the goddess would get all the answers.

Back in his room, Jungkook was drying off his hair with a towel. He was just about to take care of the wounds on his arms, when Yoongi came in, eyeing the hellhound (that he had gotten to know on his first day in the underworld and seemed to really want to stay close to Jungkook and kept guarding his door) warily. The hellhound stared at Yoongi, cocking his head and Yoongi continued to stare back until the hound buffed a little and apparently decided that Yoongi wasn’t a threat to his newly chosen master.

“I fell before I saw you,” Jungkook answered before Yoongi could even ask further, “Stumbled over some stone and scratched my arms open.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to tell Jungkook about the shard being in Persephone’s hands now when he realized that the other was still shirtless. It was annoyingly distracting. Yoongi let his gaze wander over Jungkook’s back that was way too muscular for a soft boy like him. And way...way too perfect. Yoongi had touched Jungkook in his dreams but the urge to touch him for real now and look if his skin was as soft as it looked was overwhelming.

“Can you please put something on?” He asked before concentrating on the scratch that Jungkook had showed him, “I can heal you up after. It’s no big deal.” Jungkook blushed hard, as he reached out for his shirt before quickly pulling it over his head. It wasn’t like Yoongi had seen him shirtless before, but he had said he would be listening to him from now on.

“You don’t have to though, it’s going to heal anyways,” Jungkook said, not wanting to make fuss about some scratch wounds, “It doesn’t hu-” He got interrupted when Yoongi caught his wrists and pulled his arms towards him. Jungkook watched in awe when the demon let his hands caress over his wounds, healing them up like it was nothing.

He thanked the other quietly and sat back further onto the bed as he watched Yoongi walk around it, still dirty and with ripped clothes. Raising an eyebrow Jungkook pointed at him, “You could put on something as well. You could also just be shirtless right now!” He teased him, before cuddling into the silky blanket. “But you could also stay naked. Persephone said feeling the silk against your naked body would be the best feeling in the world,” A cheeky smile appeared on his lips, “Might as well try that before she sends us back.”

A wound wasn’t a nice excuse to touch Jungkook, but he took it anyways, letting his magic flow over his skin as gently as his touch. He had thought that this was it then and that they would both just get some rest and let their minds and bodies process the last events. Although they had managed to go to hell and back it wasn’t a piece of cake for an organism that was still alive, so they definitely needed that. But apparently the little angel boy was a bit playful and Yoongi would have let it slide - if the other hadn’t tried to tease him about the silk. Because Yoongi knew damn well how good it felt but there was no way innocent little Kookie knew.

So Yoongi turned towards him, facing him fully before he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion. “Oh, I know how good it feels. I’ve been here a long while, Kookie. I had sex on them before. Skin on skin also feels quite nice. But you wouldn’t happen do know that, would you?” His smirk was teasing when he leaned over to tug on the blanket that Jungkook had pulled almost up to his chin. “Besides, you’re talking about how nice it is to feel silk on your naked skin while you are fully clothed. I’d call that a little hypocrite, don’t you agree?”

Jungkook got flustered with the way Yoongi was talking right back at him and turned away a little. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden heat stirring inside of him, something that felt like – jealousy. He grumbled quietly, pulling the cushion and his legs closer, making sure that his shirt wasn’t revealing anymore skin. Jungkook reached for the end of the blanket and pulled it up again, “Well I am not a demon and can live without sin!”

Yoongi could barely hide the smirk. The younger was unbearably cute like this, getting all flustered but still trying to keep his cool facade. He knew it would be nice to just let him be now and have him feel like he had the upper hand - but oh, Yoongi had never be the one to be nice. So, he played surprised and hopped onto the bed with an innocent expression (or as good as he could fake one at least). “But how would you know that you can live without sin if you have never tried it? You should at least try the silk thing as you advertised it so well. Come on,” With a hard tug the cover was at Jungkook’s waist and before the younger knew what was happening to him Yoongi had him half out of his sleep shirt.

Jungkook was stiff like a board as he watched the demon closely. “I…maybe I have tried it already…when you were gone,” Jungkook stammered a little too obvious that he was getting nervous. It wasn’t because he didn’t want Yoongi’s touch on him – no, he absolutely loved it. But he feared what it meant, of where it could lead, that he would lose his heart in this even more than he’d liked to admit.

“Well then it won’t be a problem for you to do it again, right?” Yoongi continued as if he didn’t see through Jungkook’s lie easily. He was surprised that the younger let him do as he pleased but he enjoyed it, reveling in how pliant Jungkook was under him. When he pulled the cover down further he half expected Jungkook to flee but the younger was either too shocked or too curious to do anything about it. So Yoongi trailed his hands down Jungkook’s bare skin until he reached his waistline, playing with the hem a little before pushing it down. He kept his eyes solely fixed on Jungkook’s face, not even sneaking a single glance down. He wanted to tease not to embarrass.

When he had undressed Jungkook completely he pulled the cover back up, folding Jungkook’s clothes nicely as if he was some maid tugging Jungkook into bed. “So, now you can tell me if you really like it that much tomorrow after you’ve slept a night like this.” His smile had more than a hint of teasing in it.

Jungkook was so frozen that he almost thought Yoongi was using some magic on him. He whimpered quietly when Yoongi had undressed him just like that – as if it was nothing. His cheeks were flaring up with the heat and he almost shivered from the feel of the silky blankets against his skin. He watched Yoongi carefully and how he placed his clothes far out of his reach so the younger one couldn’t just get up right now and get them, without baring himself even more. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he only hoped that Yoongi would retreat to the bathroom, so he could pull at least his boxers on again. They only shared one blanket and most of the time cuddled closely…. Jungkook gulped heavily when the thought of Yoongi being naked as well crossed his mind. The demon didn’t do him that favor though, he only slipped out of his pants, glad that he wore underwear today (or else the little angel in his bed might have gotten a heart attack) and then slipped under the covers. “Good night, Jungkook,” He turned to watch the younger who was still lying on his bed like a plank, staring up at the ceiling as if not looking at Yoongi would make him go away. “Will you turn off the lights, please?” Yoongi had to do his best not to show that he was shaking from suppressed laughter.

Jungkook grumbled quietly, not really answering the other as he shifted away a little more, trying to keep his decency. But being the kind young man, he was, Jungkook sat up a little, holding on to the blanket tightly, as he leaned over to try and reach the switch to turn off the lights. He really shifted closer to the edge of the bed trying to manage to not fall out of bed and keep his decency with pressing the blanket onto himself.

Yoongi could have sworn that Jungkook would tell him that he wanted to sleep with the lights on tonight or ask Yoongi to do it for him because he was ‚too cold‘ or ‚too sleepy‘ but apparently Jungkook was still as dutiful as ever even if he was so embarrassed that he could barely look at Yoongi. He had to admit that this time he didn’t keep his eyes where they should be and instead had admired the long expanse of bare skin that was presented to his eyes. Jungkook had broad shoulders and when he moved Yoongi could watch the muscles shift in his back perfectly because the younger was so tense. It would have been easy to just lean forward and kiss between his shoulder blades, made him gasp in surprise. He could reach around and just trail his fingers down over Jungkook’s hips to make him shudder under his grip. He knew how Jungkook would react because he had more or less seen it in the younger’s dreams. They hadn’t gone that far but it had been close. And although Yoongi had promised himself to never take over the others dreams like that again he was very, very tempted to break his own promise. Or just do the real thing right here and now. If Jungkook liked to kiss him - and he must have or else, he wouldn’t have kissed him back like that - then maybe he enjoyed his touches too? Yoongi bit his lip, considering just leaning over and nipping at the soft skin at Jungkook's neck, turning him over on his back so that he could lean over him and … No. He tightened his jaw when he made his decision. He couldn’t toy with Jungkook like that. The younger was still innocent, he couldn't take advantage of him like that. Yoongi almost growled at himself to think such a stupidly non-demonic thought. He was probably going crazy already.

“There,” Jungkook said a little out of breath when he turned to Yoongi, who was smirking at him. He squinted his eyes in response and kept close to the edge and away from Yoongi. “I hope you know I can tell that hellhound to attack you any minute,” Jungkook threatened the demon and huffed in annoyance.

“Oh, sure, send that hellhound onto me, I'm sure he will..uhm..cuddle me to death? I haven’t even seen him bare his teeth for real. I guess you infected him with your angel virus,” The same that he himself must have caught. And which made him decide to spill the beans and make sure that he wouldn’t have a chance to give in to temptation anytime soon to visit Jungkook in his dreams again, “Besides, there’s no need to be shy about this. I’ve seen you naked already, arching up under me. You were a lot more willing in your dreams, weren’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes had widen immediately. In his dreams? Yoongi had seen his dreams? Of course, he had! Oh wait… Jungkook suddenly whined desperately, putting his arm over his eyes to hide the shame he felt. Everything made sense now, the way Yoongi had made him drink and teased him all the time. He only had wanted to make it easier to slip into his mind. Jungkook almost laughed – there he was, thinking that his mind had sent him some dreams. Dreams that were only his. And Yoongi had fooled around with him, just like a doll. Just like he was playing with him now.

Before he had felt nervous and maybe a hint of excitement, but now there was only hurt left as Jungkook turned towards Yoongi, “Why? Why did you do that?”

His voice failed him for a second at the hurt in Jungkook's voice and the sadness that he could feel through their connection. It was as if Jungkook wasn‘t just embarrassed about it but actually.. disappointed. In him.

Yoongi really wanted to explain himself while not sounding as if he was justifying himself although it was exactly what he was trying to do: „It wasn‘t as if I had another choice. The bond was too tight back then for me to hunt and it wasn‘t like you were sinning in any way or form that I could have fed off so I decided that a little bit of lust wouldn‘t hurt, I didn‘t want to starve and you definitely didn‘t want me to starve either - or else this could have ended very differently - and so I send you dreams and you seemed to like it so I didn‘t stop until…“

Until he had gone too far and Jungkook had been scared of him.

„Until I didn‘t need it any longer because the bond.. after the visit... because I could hunt properly again,” Yoongi finished lamely, strangely scared about Jungkook‘s reaction. He liked the other, sure. But he wasn‘t stupid enough to actually think that they would stay together. It was probably better if Jungkook hated him now because it would make the separation easier. But despite all logic he hated that option. His heart constricted at the mere thought of losing his connection with Jungkook. It must be that he had just gotten used to it, that was all. It wasn‘t as if he actually had feelings for the other. It was just lust and habit and…and maybe a bit of longing. Just a little.

The younger one nodded. He could understand that Yoongi had been desperate back then, in a way Jungkook had been too. Only that he thought, that at least the dreams had been still his own, while everything else was already filled with the demon’s presence.

“It’s okay, I guess,” He mumbled quietly, “You sent me a dream on the first night here as well, right? When we were lying down on the meadow? In-between all the flowers?” Jungkook sighed and shrugged his shoulders, “That was too perfect to be one of my dreams. But you’re fine. I forgive you, because you never did something I didn’t want again. I am thankful for that.” He smiled weakly, turning his gaze to where his clothes were lying. “Could you…please?” Jungkook asked quietly, wanting to at least put his boxers back on – especially now.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. How could Jungkook forgive him like that? He had used him and almost turned his dream into a nightmare once. He had broken Jungkook’s trust and he was still doing it with keeping way too many things from him. And Jungkook listened and then reflected and then forgave him. Again, and again. That couldn’t be healthy. Where was the blazing hatred, the anger, the wrath that ate at Yoongi every time he felt betrayed or toyed with or helpless? How could similar situations lead to completely different reactions? Suddenly he felt very, very tired. And wrong. As a demon it was a nice thing to know that there was no good or bad, no rules to go by except what your god or goddess told you. You were free from guilty consciousness from feelings that confined you, from anything that could possibly hurt you. Going back to feeling was…scary. And it made Yoongi feel a lot more vulnerable than he would have liked.

He was a bit too confused to know what to do right now, “Do you want me to get them for you? Or turn around? Or sleep somewhere else?” Jungkook nodded, “Yeah could you look away for a moment?” When Yoongi immediately obeyed, he quickly got his boxers and put them back on, before getting under the cover again. He carefully placed his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn again and Jungkook smiled, “You don’t need to sleep anywhere else. I forgave you, don’t worry. As long as you don’t feed off me anymore without my permission I am good.” Before the demon could say anything else, Jungkook took his arm and wrapped it around himself, snuggling closer to the warmth of his demon. “I missed you, so I want you to stay here,” Jungkook said and placed a hand on Yoongi’s naked chest. His fingers caressing over his soft skin.

“You…you are too good for this world, you know that?” The words slipped out before Yoongi could take them back and he hid his flaming cheeks with hiding his face half in the cushions, half in Jungkook’s hair. His sweet smell was the strongest here, close to his neck and Yoongi inhaled deeply. “You smell so sweet,” He whispered, kissing the crone of Jungkook’s head softly. It was dark, and he was emotional and if someone ever accused him of being soft he could absolutely deny it. This was only between him and Jungkook.

And Jungkook would be gone soon anyway, so it didn’t matter anymore what he did or what Jungkook knew. Their paths would be separated, and no one could hold any of them accountable for what they had done. So Yoongi held Jungkook close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, how he liked that Jungkook could find joy in the darkest of things and stayed hopeful in the scariest of places - and that he was thankful that he had rescued him. And maybe, after Jungkook had fallen asleep in his arms already he also told him that he was thankful that he met him. And that he would let himself be bound to him again if it meant that they could be together a little longer.

A/N: And another update! Ahgrh thank you again for all your lovely comments ;; We love you guys so much! Let’s let them both have a bit of a soft time...for now...maybe not for too long ;) Don’t forget to comment on how you liked it! Your support means everything to us!

168 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two | Persephone

Hey my lovelies a month later here is the next installment! When I was planning my chapters out a month or so ago I wrote at the top of this one "Sunny day, go outside, FLUFFY" (exact words)-- I regret to inform you that this is almost pure angst LOL. I deviated from that but the next chapter should bring some much needed fluff. Thank you all for your patience and support-- it means the entire world to me. All my love, until next time <3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, anxiety, PTSD, nightmares, angst things, self-hatred, terrible Greek myth references, this ones big angst but necessary for the plot line

Word count: 5.2k

Previous | Next

Master List

He likes his coffee iced.

Black and iced.

She watches as Bucky lifts the glass— the one filled with more cubes than coffee— to his lips, wincing when his throat bobs. It’s seven in the morning. Sure, neither of them slept that much last night— something which makes her gut twist, knowing quite well that it’s her fault— but still. It can’t be as refreshing as he’s making it look. Iced coffee is meant for afternoons. And meant with as much sugar and cream as she can get her hands on. Never just straight dark roast. She clutches her own mug closer to her, taking a sip of the warm, sweet liquid. This is how it should be.

“Got something you wanna’ say, doll?” He takes another sip and she scrunches her nose, both trying to keep her eyes off his pink lips and trying not to force her own mug into his hands— she would be doing him a favor.

If the slight smirk— the millimeter tick in his cheek— is anything to go by then she would say he knows how hard this is for her. A sadist. His lips pull up a touch higher, as though reading her mind. A handsome sadist. Her face flushes under his gaze and she drags in a lungful of air through her nose, holding it for a moment— one, two, three moments— before blowing it back out her mouth.

She lets the hint of coffee leftover on her tongue carve a syrupy smile across her face. “Nope— nothing at all.”

He nods once, blue eyes creasing at the corners as he stares at her from over the glass. He knows. He lazily swirls the coffee, the ice cubes clinking together. Mocking her. She clenches her jaw, fighting the growing urge to snatch the bitter drink and dump it down the sink. The liquid is so dark that she almost gags, picturing what it must taste like. Bitter. Tangy. Vile. It’s the same color as his hair— brown but practically black. Unlike his hair, though, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near that coffee. He needs something warm. Something soft.

Something like her—

“You sure?” Bucky’s voice is mocking too but lacking the ice— the bitterness— his mocking is sweet.

He’s tilting his head now, his black and gold hand settling on the table between them, glinting in the dregs of sunlight starting to break past the curtain. To think yesterday she had been afraid to meet his gaze— afraid of her own feet creaking against the hardwood and of messing up his lunch. Now look at her, less than twenty-four hours later and she can’t look away from him. She doesn’t want to look away. Forget about being afraid to burn the grilled-cheese— she’s about to spartan kick the glass off the table if he takes one more sip.

“Oh I’m sure.” She simpers, fingers curling a touch tighter around her mug. “Why, is there something you would like to say, Bucky?”

His eyes sparkle, not backing down from the challenge. “Nothing at all.”

In that moment— in the one, two, three moments that it takes for his head to slope to the other side, still tilted but somehow more taunting— it’s almost impossible to hold in the scowl threatening her lips. “I see.”

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting but it certainly isn’t Bucky’s laugh— loud and raspy and rushing over her in a tidal wave of energy stronger than the caffeine on her tongue— as he throws his head back. He had laughed yesterday but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t so pure. It’s all she can do to hold her breath as his eyes flutter closed, creasing at the corners, and wonder if she looks that wonderful when she laughs too. If she, too, looks like an angel falling from the sun, burning in the inkling of light the curtain allows. Does the kitchen haze halo around her hair as well? Does it make it look like her skin is gold— the same way he looks like a statue, sculpted and frozen from precious metal?

There’s just no way.

“You look like you wanna’ leap across the table—” his hand presses against his mouth, flesh fingers closed in a fist as his shoulders shake— “why— why do you look so determined? C’mon, fill me in please— I’m—” he has to pause, laugh turning silent from the force of it— “I’m dyin’ here.”

Her own laughs come in short huffs, airy and just barely making a noise. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep finally getting her— that would explain both of their laughs actually. She hasn’t felt giddy in months. It kind of hurts, how hard her stomach contracts upon seeing his eyes blinking at her, bright blue and glassy, swallowing his chuckles the same way she gasps for the breath needed to answer him.

She finally caves, finger pointing to the glass in front of him and a smile so wide on her lips that her cheeks hurt. “There’s just no way that tastes good.”

He glances down, looking at his offensive beverage, before looking back up, his eyes brighter than she’s yet to have seen them. “That’s what this is about? My coffee? I knew it.”

Nodding, she lifts her own mug, tilting it just enough for him to see the contents. “This is coffee— not that sludge. That cold sludge. Is there any sugar in there? Like, even one grain?”

“Quit bein’ dramatic—” he snorts— apparently the big bad bodyguard snorts— and it’s cuter than she would like to admit— “just because I don’t load my coffee with additives. S’there even any coffee in yours, doll? It looks more like milk if you ask me.”

Her face flushes hot and she doesn’t know if it’s from the nickname or the fact that he just called her out— so what if she likes sugar and cream?

She meets his smug gaze with her own, narrowed-eyed glance. “Sugar and cream aren’t additives, Bucky— they’re good.”

“But not good for you.” He counters, dark brows quirking.

She scoffs— scoff, swoon, same thing— “Not everything has to be a superfood to be healthy— at least mine isn’t iced.”

Bucky’s eyes glint upon hearing that, picking up his glass and swirling the ice cubes once more before taking a long sip. His eyes never leave hers as he peers over the rim, taking his sweet time to down the liquid. Does he know that even when he’s being arrogant he looks like an angel? Her hand curls tighter around her mug, testing the durability of the ceramic as his throat bobs again. Her palm stings in warning— a little hey maybe you should let go. She doesn’t— somehow shattering the mug seems like a better option than breaking her composure.

Her grip loosens a fraction when he finally sets his glass back down. “What’s wrong with iced coffee— isn’t it a California staple?”

“Not before eight it isn’t.”

“It’s refreshing.” He deadpans.

“It’s cold.” She deadpans back, fingers tapping against her mug— maybe she can hypnotize him into not wanting to finish it. “Californians don’t like the cold. At least not in So-Cal we don’t. Maybe Brooklyn’s different.”

Eyeing his drink, she contemplates the schematics of the mission at hand. It truly doesn’t seem that difficult. She could just reach over and grab it and he wouldn’t even see it coming. He’s already distracted, right? She stops tapping, casually— well, as casual as one can be when actually trying to be— laying her palm on the table. His eyes, thankfully, stay glued to her own, lips parting with a huff.

“New Yorkers just want coffee, no time for all that fancy stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” She drawls. “What does fancy stuff entail exactly?”

She can only hope that her voice sounds interested— her eyes are still locked on his but her attention is entirely elsewhere. She needs to keep him talking— to keep him distracted. His huffs as she crawls her fingers closer, drawing his focus to her shrug, making sure he never glances away. This is too easy.

“All that cappuccino, frappuccino, whatever the hell it’s called nowadays—”

This time she huffs. “Is that what you think we drink?”

She inches her palm even closer to his glass—

“I know it’s what you drin— Hey!” Bucky laughs again, tugging his glass towards him with a cheshire grin— okay so maybe he would see it coming— “keep your hands where I can see them—”

Whatever he says next falls deaf into the space between them, cut off by the sudden rushing of blood in her ears. It’s like his words hit a barrier between them, one hastily constructed of thin glass and terror. Every thought of coffee rushes out of her mind in an instant. She blinks, mouth going dry, heart stopping. A switch flips inside her— keep your hands where I can see them or what?

What did he hear?

He must have heard something.

Why can’t she hear him?

She can see him— see the way his lips form around his sentence, his smile starting to wane but still slightly holding in place— but she can’t hear him. She can see the way his laugh drops but she can’t hear the explosion of it hitting the table. She can only perceive the collision in the fall of his lips, echoed in the creasing of his brows. Her hands catch in mid air, hitting the glass as well— she can’t save it. Him. She’s trying— instinctively reaching for him— but she can’t pull the smile back up or smooth the lines on his forehead. She’s helpless— useless.

He knows— he must know.

What did she say last night?

Why can’t she break the glass?

The wall is too much.

She tries to tell Bucky— I’m so scared I can’t breathe— but when her gaze snaps to his none of the blue that she’s been memorizing for the last day is visible. There’s only blackness— blackness in the now dimming light of the bright room and blackness in his eyes, even the whites, and blackness in her own vision as she, too, drops. One minute she’s there, sitting at the table, watching the confusion pool into his features that were only seconds ago coated in mirth, and then next she’s back. She’s dreaming. She’s in the house that haunts her every night.

She’s not asleep but—

She’s in the coat closet of her parent’s home. It still smells the way she remembers— like sunscreen and lemon Pine-Sol. Her mother uses it to keep the wooden fixtures around the house oiled. Apparently that’s a thing. She’s never really understood why but at least it smells nice— like sunshine and laughter and her mother. Like her home. She doesn’t understand but, regardless, any other time she would be closing her eyes and drawing in as much of the citrus as possible, too content to be confused.

Not today, though— she’s too excited to do any such thing today.

She hasn’t told anyone that she’s coming home for the weekend; she wants it to be a surprise. Her brother always surprises her. His birthday is just around the corner and for once she wants to be the one to do the surprising. Hell, she even bought a cake with an inscription— the very same cake that’s nestled next to her feet as she rummages through the shelves. Happy 29th Birthday! She has a whole plan in place. Have Susan drop her off while her family is out and set up the celebration before they return. It isn’t a hard plan. It’s supposed to be simple— not hard and very simple.

And then the door opens.

Not the closet door but the front door. She hears the familiar tread of her family— her mother’s eco-friendly slip-ons and her fathers clunky, also eco-friendly, sandals, followed by the heavy thudding of her brother’s combat boots. Despite her mother’s pleading— and the fact that he hasn’t been deployed in over a year— he still wears them religiously. Still, her interest peaks— it doesn’t make sense. The only time he doesn’t wear them is when he goes to the beach and she could have sworn one of them had sent her a text earlier today asking if she had wanted to go with them—

“Keep your hands where I can see them, you hear me!”

She freezes, hands clamping around the towel in her grasp as she whirls around and squints through the grate in the closet door. She can’t make out everything in front of her but she can make out enough to know that something isn’t right. There are four people standing in the foyer. Not three— not just her mother, brother, and father— but four. She sees her mother shoved behind her father, his arm curled around her hip, and her brother, his hands held out in front of him towards the fourth person. His face, while slightly distorted from the grate, is terrified. Him— the man who’s faced the worst of the war— terrified.

Something is terribly wrong.

She pushes her gaze to the fourth figure, trying desperately to understand what’s happening. Dressed in all black, their back towards her, there isn’t much to go off of. Their stance is rigid, steps heavy as they slam the front door and lock it. Is her family being robbed? Is that what this is? She knows they’re well off— more than that. She knows her family is rich. But her neighbourhood is guarded— enclosed. She’s never heard of something like this happening—

She bites back a scream as the person shouts at her family, voice staticy as it crackles through what sounds like a modifier. “On your knees— now!”

Her mother’s cry rings through the air, piercing her chest like a bullet. She wants to scream too but something inside her catches the sound before she can. Maybe it’s common sense— her street smarts coming out to play for once in her life. Maybe it’s fear— the scream dissipating into a barely audible huff of air as she watches her brother sink wordlessly to the floor. Solidarity, perhaps. Maybe, though, it's the slab of iron in the person’s hand, pressed against her father’s head and winking at her in the bright foyer light.

A gun— whoever is in her home has a gun and is pointing it at her family.

“Please don’t hurt my family—” it’s her father this time, his hands in the air and voice deadly calm— how he manages that she has no idea— “I’ll give you whatever you want. Money, jewelry, whatever you want, it’s yours— just please don’t hurt them.”

It’s surreal— she’s heard that phrase in movies and shows— hell, she heard it in a theatre production one time— a macabre commentary about something she couldn’t remember if her life depended on it— does her life depend on it right now?— of course it doesn’t snap out of it y/n! She’s losing her mind, her throat is burning and her palms are starting to sting— the point is she never thought she would hear those words said aloud. She certainly never thought they would come from her own father as he covers her mother’s body with his own.

“I don’t want your money!” The intruder growls, their voice so low and grainy that she almost doesn’t understand.

What she does understand is the sharp click of the gun’s safety being released— she understands the way the muscles in her body tense all at once. In that moment the unthinkable happens—

She drops the towel.

It doesn’t make much of a sound at all, only a small thud as it falls, but it’s enough to make her jolt backwards, foot landing heavy in her brother’s cake. The heady scent of the cream-cheese icing melds with the Pine-Sol and she has to swallow the vomit that rises in her throat, not daring to lift her foot let alone move an inch as the hulking figure rises.

They spin around quickly, facing the closet with a covered face and squinted black eyes, and her heart stops dead in her chest. Can they see her? Do they know she’s in there? She had made a beeline for the closet when Susan dropped her off, not bothering to stop long enough to kick her shoes off until inside the small space. She hasn’t even turned the light on— there’s been enough pouring in through the grate to do without. Perhaps there’s a chance they don’t know she’s here.

She holds her breath as the figure steps forward, arms pressed tightly to her chest. Whoever it is get’s so close to the grate that for a moment she can’t see her family at all. It’s only a few seconds before they turn away— logically it can’t be more or else she’d be gasping for air— but it feels like a lifetime, her toes curling in the red-velvet and a steady bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck. She prays the entire time— she doesn’t know to who— she doesn’t know if she’s being heard— but she prays.

And the figure turns around.

Her hands fly to her jeans immediately, frantically pressing against the material but coming away empty. Fuck— where the hell is her cellphone? She could have sworn it was in her pocket! She wracks her brain, trying to think of where it could be. She hadn’t brought her purse or a coat— why would she, she was only going home. She has both of those things in her bedroom upstairs. She had just slipped her debit card into her phone case and ran to meet Susan—

Fuck— no, no, no!

An image of Susan’s console jumps into her mind, her phone sitting in the cupholder, forgotten as she animatedly waves her hands around. She can’t even remember the story she’d been telling now. It was nothing important— now she knows that. Nothing important enough to warrant forgetting her phone. She never forgets her phone.

She sees movement from the corner of her eye and her gaze darts to her mother whose head is now turned towards the closet, her eyes— the very eyes she’s spent years wishing she could have inherited instead of her father’s because they’re just so lovely— locked on hers. They pierce through the thin opening, softening a fraction, and her heart jumps, restarting.

She sees her.

She knows— her mother knows that she’s there. She’s watching and she knows. It’s both relieving and terrifying, knowing that she isn’t alone but also what would happen if she’s caught. Y/n’s lips peel open instinctively and, ever her persistent mother, she shakes her head. It takes everything in her to not call out for her— to not burst through the closet doors and rush into her arms. But her mother’s instincts have always been better than her own.

So she doesn’t speak— doesn’t move— she just watches.

It all happens so fast— the time it would take someone to blink is the time it takes to watch everything she’s ever known crumble.

She watches as the intruder turns, deciding that the closet is empty and that there are more important matters. Matters meaning her family. Matters meaning the gun in their hand.

She watches as her brother lunges forward, his arms wrapping around the intruder and bringing them both to the ground with a thud that threatens to bring the entire house down around them. It all happens in slow motion— yet another thing she never thought she would experience off the big screen. They roll around for a moment, battling for control. For that moment her chest sags— he’s going to win. He’s a trained soldier and he’s strong and his birthday is in three days. He has to win.

But then a gunshot rings through the air and a cloud of smoke erupts from between their bodies.

And one of them slumps but it isn’t the one in the mask.

It smells like fireworks, the gunpowder. Like the fourth of July or labor day weekend. Like she should be celebrating with the neighborhood and not pressing her fist against her mouth, helpless as her brother’s body caves in on itself. She doesn’t even get time to process the crimson pooling from the corner of his mouth as his head slots towards her before the intruder is back on their feet.

She watches as the monster aims the gun again— matters being dealt with— and she watches as her mother nods ever so slightly, her mouth just barely forming one last ‘I love you’— different matters but she would later come to find that they were also being closed. Her mother has never been one to leave things unresolved.

The second gunshot doesn’t smell like fireworks— it smells like lemon Pine-Sol.

It smells like blood.

No, she’s not asleep but she’s definitely not awake.

In hindsight maybe she should have taken that breath. She would have, had she known. Hindsight is funny like that. No. Funny is the wrong word. Hindsight is cruel like that. Better. It makes her wish that she had just closed her eyes— that she smelled the lemon oil one last time before it mingled with the metal of her family’s death. In hindsight she wouldn’t have left her phone in Susan’s car. Or dropped the towel. Or said no to the beach. Or any other thing that led her to stand in the coat closet. And those are just the things she wouldn’t do.

She still can’t think about the things she would do— not without bile rushing into her mouth.

Bucky clears his throat and— like the towel— the mug almost slips from her fingers.

“You sure you don’t want to talk ‘bout it?” His voice is gentle— well, as gentle as she’s sure he can make it— and that’s all she needs to understand that he really has no idea as to what’s going on in her head.

Surely if he did then he wouldn’t be gazing at her with that look in his eyes.

Shrugging, she keeps her attention focused on her mug— the coffee doesn’t look nearly as appetizing as it had before. She raises it anyway, her lips sealing around the porcelain and pulling in another mouthful of the liquid. Somehow, despite the steam that had been rising from it only minutes ago, it’s ice cold now. She grimaces but swallows it anyway, if only to buy herself a few seconds to think of a suitable answer. Maybe that’s why Bucky drinks it too— as a distraction. As a guise.

The mug thunks off the table when she sets it down, her hand landing much heavier than she intends. Of course it does— gods can she ever do anything normally? She winces, passing him a look she hopes conveys that it was an accident. She doesn’t want him to think she’s angry with him. Not when it feels like he’s the only person she isn’t mad at. These days that’s hard to come by. Thankfully his blue eyes remain soft. Maybe he gets it.

“I, uh—” she twists her fingers together, dropping her gaze to his cheek— this isn’t the kind of thing you say while looking someone in the eye. Maybe she’s just a coward, though— “I had a dream. Erm— about that night. A memory. Kind of.”

Her voice cracks and she swallows, trailing off. She didn’t mean to say the last part but it’s like it forced itself past her lips, her psyche unable— unwilling— to withhold the truth from him. Well, not all of it at least.

It’s not the whole story. It’s not even close. What she doesn’t say is that it’s her fault. All of it. That if she had just acted— if she had done anything at all worth something then she would still have her parents. Her brother. That she may as well have killed them herself because she sure as hell didn’t do anything to stop it. She doesn’t tell him that she’s nothing but a scared, stupid girl who— when it came down to it— froze. A monster— The Queen of Death.

Aren’t queens supposed to save the people they care about?

“A memory?” He sounds confused but all she can see is the grain of the table, her eyes now refusing to look at even his skin.

It’s all she can do to play off the way her chin drops— the way the air gets sucked out of her lungs— as a nod. “Yeah.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything in return and she’s not about to pick her chin up from her chest to demand an answer. She likes him. She doesn’t exactly want him to know she’s a killer. Well, more so than he already does. He’s here, though, so it’s not like he doesn’t know that the people closest to her always end up dead. Mother, father, brother— dead, dead, dead. He just doesn’t know the extent of it— or that she’s the harbinger.

That there’s a little part of her that wonders if he’s going to end up dead too just for sitting across from her.

Would she save him or would she only watch from the closet as his body caved to the floor?

Bucky hums softly— reverently— and she remembers the way his skin had glowed only minutes ago— Icarus meeting the sun— and the way he had laughed— Icarus humming his praise to the sun— and she feels like she’s been submerged in ice.

Icarus falling.

What happens when Icarus hits the ocean? Will it smell like lemon Pine-Sol?

Nevermind, she doesn’t want to know the answer.

Bile pools over her tongue and she swallows it as a tapping sound catches her attention in the stillness, her eyes darting to the cause. Sparkling metal— his fingers. The gold gleams even more now that the sun has risen higher. It’s not raining today— was it raining the day Icarus fell? She can’t tear her gaze away from his metal digits as they thrum a beat against the table, the steady motion mesmerizing. It’s not raining but his fingers could fool her. It’s nothing dramatic— nothing harsh. Just the tap, tap, tap of his index and middle fingers, a little heavier than had it been his flesh hand.

It’s a normal motion— she misses normal.

Tap, tap, tap.

She misses the rain.

It hits her like a truck how much she longs for the grey haze of yesterday’s sky. The sun is too bright— her skin is too exposed. It feels like it’s beaming right through her hoodie, cutting through the heavy fabric and burning the flesh from her bones just to prove that they’re not the ivory they should be but rather charred and black. It feels like the sun is out for her blood— out to watch the citrus ichor drip from her veins through the veiled window. If her feet weren’t rooted to the floor, her toes digging painfully into the harwood, she’s sure she would be sinking below the table to escape the rays. She can’t breathe— her mouth tastes like acid. Like lemons.

She misses the rain.

Tap, tap, tap— it’s not the rain but surely it’s close enough, right?

Icarus would think it’s enough, right?

So why does it make her shoulders tense?

“A memory.” Bucky breaks the silence, repeating his words but this time they aren’t a question— not yet. “What d’you mea—” he stops, sentence dropping before picking up on a new, clearer note— “You were there?”

Maybe because it’s the sound of the puzzle pieces clicking together in his head.

It’s not an accusation— there’s no charge in his tone— but still she flinches, hands pressed together at the wrists, fingers tangled together, guilty. She’s yet to confess but she’s already been caught— she can feel it— red handed in red velvet and wondering if— when she glances past the table— she’ll see her foot still smeared in the cream cheese icing. She had stood in it for so long that she wouldn’t doubt it. It’s a part of her now.

She nods, not trusting her voice. Not trusting herself to not reveal more than she already has. She isn’t being accused but her heart is pounding so hard that she feels like she’s in the interrogation room again. She wiggles her toes— are they sticky or is she just imagining it? Her shoulders burn where the sun has managed to cut through the crack in the curtain. She misses the rain.

Tap, tap, ta— his fingers stop.

Her eyes dart back to his metal hand, the black and gold frozen mid tap.

“Holy shit—” there’s a pause, his fingers flex before straightening, flattening against the table before— “they didn’t tell me that.”

Bucky’s voice is so low that she almost doesn’t hear it— she probably wasn’t supposed to. She has to force herself to keep her gaze leveled below his, her voice steady despite the fact that she’s almost certain the sun has seared through her vocal cords. Her throat burns. Maybe he wasn’t so far off with the iced coffee after all. She wouldn’t mind it right now.

“I wasn’t sure if they would.” She croaks and then winces, swallowing before her throat can close on it’s own— she needs at least the semblance of control.

It’s the truth— she didn’t know. It would have made sense to tell him, though. It would have been polite, at the very least. She’s damaged, they should have told him. Watch out. They should have given him the papers— the records of the month she spent in a hospital bed. They should have told him. Maybe they were trying to help her— maybe they were trying to save him. But they should have warned him regardless.

She’s unstable; she’s liable to shut down in the worst moments.

She doesn’t sleep at night; she just screams and screams and screams.

She’s deadly; she won’t help you, Icarus.

His fingers start again but this time it sounds less like rain.

Tap, tap, tap. Mother, father, brother.

“They should have.” Bucky grinds out, voice thick— angry? “They should have told me.”

Is he angry with her? She squeezes her hands together tighter, her nails digging into her knuckles. Please no. She shouldn’t have said anything— she should have kept her mouth shut. Isn’t that supposed to be the one thing she’s good at? Not speaking out? Not talking? The thought of the dark haired man being angry at her is like poison in her blood. The tension rolls over her bones in a heavy wave, settling like a blanket, suffocating her.

She can’t breathe.

She needs to breathe.

“I know—” she pushes through her teeth, voice finally cracking— “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t know who she’s apologizing to— Bucky already told her not to apologize to him. She can’t help it though, the words are always on her tongue. Always haunting her.

I’m sorry I didn’t go to the beach— I know I missed a lot of family trips last year.

I’m sorry I left my phone in Susan’s car— I know you’re always telling me how forgetful I am.

I’m sorry I missed your birthday— I just wanted it to be a surprise.

Her skin itches, toes curling against the hardwood and the icing. It hurts. Everything hurts. The sun— the Pine-Sol. The sticky tinge to her skin where the blood had spattered through the grate. She needs out.

Tap, tap, tap. Mother, father, brother. Dead, dead, de— if she doesn’t get out of here right now there’s a good chance she’s going to explode.

“Do— ah— do you think maybe it would be okay to get some fresh air?”

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings @hazardoushallucination @em-august @nuttytani @brown-eyed-babes

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x y/n #Bucky #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky series #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #bodyguard!bucky #mcu imagine #mcu series #Persephone's Symphony

72 notes · View notes

afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Fated Ch. 2

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Summary: Humanity has broken the world. How they did it doesn’t matter. What does is that in doing so they quickened the old gods once more. A century later things are settling into a new order but all is not as it seems. As Fate draws two gods together the cracks begin to show in this new age. Will their bond tip the delicate balance or restore order to a broken world?

Warnings: N/A (I don’t think.)

A/N: You’re all fucking incredible! Seriously. You’ve been SO damn patient with me here. This is my first AU and it’s haaaaard! I don’t even know if I’m doing this ‘right’ but whatever. I really hope y’all enjoy this and hopefully, you won’t have to wait for another age for chapter 3.

LOVE YOU PUMPKINS!

OH! And if I missed your tag please let me know!

Tags are open!

James tears down the passage into the Underworld, clutching the bleeding wound at his side.

“Sir?!” Charon stares shocked, as much to see him here as at the ichor flowing down his master’s side. James didn’t spend much time down here recently, Anthony thought it best they maintain a visible presence among the mortals with things being so unstable.

However, in this moment, it’s the fastest way to get to his brother and rip his throat out.

“I’m fine,” James growls.

Charon blinks, “Uh… sure… Has fine changed meaning topside?” James doesn’t answer as he continues to walk, leaving a glittering trail. “I mean I know things are kind of fuzzy from before but-”

“Shut up!” James bellows at his old friend. Charon’s eyebrows raise. He may be the lord of the dead but it wasn’t like him to speak to his friends in such a way.

He drags his free hand over his face, “I’m sorry…”

“Zeus?” Charon knows only one being alive that can induce this reaction in his master.

“Anthony,” he softly corrects, “but yes.”

“Ah. Should I… call someone…”

“Why?” James stands in front of the door that leads to Anthony’s New York tower. “So they can interfere?”

He slides the door open and stalks through.

When James’ cold stare falls on Peter, annoyance rankles. He didn’t want Anthony’s youngest to be here for this fight.

“Unc-Hade-James,” the boy’s eyes are wide as they notice the wound. “Oh! Do you need a healer I can-”

“Move,” James’ voice is low and menacing.

“But I-” Ever one to do his duty he tries to stand in James’ path.

“I have words for my beloved brother,” he snarls.

“Oh… uh… Zeu-Anthony isn’t seeing anyone he’s-” James whips the weapon from his waistband and aims it at the boy. “In his lab…”

He slams the door to Anthony’s workshop open with a clatter. Despite the noise doesn’t even look back.

“I thought I said no-”

James fires the weapon, just barely missing his brother’s head. The bolt crashes into the wall, shaking the whole building. He releases another and another causing everything around them to tremble ominously.

“What in the fuck!” Anthony’s voice booms, cracking one of the panes of glass.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” James doesn’t need to below to prove his point. He throws the weapon at his brother and collapses into a chair. Anthony catches the gun-like device staring at it and his brother, in turn, trying to understand why he almost lost his head.

“Explain to me,” James grimaces, “how your fucking grandson ended up with that. Explain why you sent me in there blind and-”

“Wait,” Anthony examines the weapon, “you’ve really gotta be more specific. Which grandson?”

James’ eyes roll back, “Don’t.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly known for my chastity.” James glares at him. Anthony sighs setting the weapon down, “Ok. Yes, I knew it was Heph’s kid. I assumed it would be easy, that he’d be… pliable.” Like his father were the words Anthony doesn’t speak.

Groaning James leans forward a touch, eyeing his brother. “You give your son too little credit. Are you honestly going to tell me you had no idea?” He gestures toward the weapon.

“That some demigod brat had a god-killer?!” Anthony’s fingers tentatively graze the metal. “No, James I didn’t know. Why the hell would I send you in-”

“Why do you do half the things you do brother?!” His anger is cold as ice in his veins as he spits the next words, “Because they suit you. In one way or another, you do as you please when it pleases you, consequences be damned.”

The vein in Anthony’s neck throbs, “What do I gain in killing you?” He says through clenched teeth.

James had to admit it was a fair point. No one truly wanted to do his job, even with the perks that came along with it…

“Hephaestus,” Anthony grumbles.

“I don’t think this was his doing…” Though who’s else it could be he didn’t know.

Anthony levels a dark glare in the middle distance, “I’ll handle this.” His eyes fall to the gold staining James’ side. “Are you gonna be ok?”

James doesn’t respond. Instead, he studies his brother, unease settling in his gut. “How will you handle it?”

“I’m going to talk to my son.” James raises a brow at this. “What?!” Silence hangs.

Anthony sighs heavily. “I am not who I once was…”

None of them were. Not for the first time, something itches in distant corners of James’ mind, something forgotten… fractured. He doesn’t have the energy to waste on such things now.

“If there is a traitor amongst us we need to find out quickly. I need you to-”

“No,” James huffs as he stands. “I’m done for now. You sort this mess, I have no ties to it and I want nothing more to do-”

“So you think if they revolt, if all this goes to shit, it won’t affect you brother?!” Ignoring him James turns to leave.

A small bolt of lightning scorches the marble floor before James’ feet. Far too similar to the actions of Anthony’s grandson earlier.

“You have a duty! To all of us, to your king-” Before his brother can think to move James wraps cold metal fingers around his throat, lifting him inches from the ground, silencing him.

“Duty,” James growls. “I suggest you refrain from words you do not truly understand.” The air around them is electric. “I have a duty to something far greater than you my king.” He spits the title before flinging his brother across the room. “Because you were too weak to bear it.”

“How dare-”

“How dare I what little brother?” James’ voice is velvet which somehow makes it all the more sinister. A subtle dark mist begins to lift from around him in delicate curls. Anthony says nothing more.

“That’s what I thought.” Sighing James turns to leave, Anthony remains on the floor.

Before he’s out the door James says over his shoulder, “Never forget, I serve her before all others and she is greater than any god. All bow before Death at the end of things brother, even you.”

It had been almost two weeks without incident. Despite that, you couldn’t convince yourself that all was well within you.

“Kore?”

“Yes, Mother?” She doesn’t take her eyes off the plant she’s infusing with her power.

“Will you bring me a bit of mint from the greenhouse, with the roots attached?” You were creating hybrid medicinal plants for Hecate—er, Wanda, to use in her craft.

“Of course,” after hours in the lab, fresh air would be nice.

It had rained lightly that morning leaving the ground soft beneath your feet. Each step sent the scent of the soil and the tender grass flooding to your nose. You breathe it in deep. The smell of decay, always present in the earth, was beginning to comfort you, in fact, you were beginning to find yourself seeking it out. That intoxicating odor would be even more present in the greenhouse, you know. The thought quickens your pace.

You take longer than necessary separating a portion of the mint plant, wanting to spend as much time as possible in this humid place filled with that dark, rich, scent. Any longer and Mother will have questions though. With a disappointed sigh, you head out.

As you walk the short distance back to the lab a slight glint in the dark soil ahead of you catches your attention.

Kneeling you reach your fingers into the damp earth, moving it to reveal three shiny copper coins, their markings long worn away. A smile lifts the corners of your mouth. You’d been finding coins like this for as long as you could remember.

Mother only ever mentioned them in the garden that day you’d killed the tomato plants and you never volunteered the information to her. The coins were yours and yours alone, gifts from the earth they seemed. You kept them in a box, always grabbing one or two when you’d attend a birth or healing—never knowing if you’d need to give one away.

In truth, you never thought much of it, why these coins found their way to you. Now though… Whispers of the strange feeling from before tingle through your body, the desire to plunge your hands into the earth.

Down, something seems to whisper. From the corner of your eye, you notice the movement of shadows.

No. You will not fall prey to whatever this is, not now. Shaking your head you walk briskly back to the lab.

“Finally,” Mother sounds exasperated.

“Sorry,” you say softly, fingers rubbing the smooth surfaces of the coins in your pocket.

Over the next three days, you feel as though a serpent is writhing, painfully, in the pit of your stomach. You try every distraction you can think of to calm it. Burying yourself in your duties only fills you with more dread that you’d have another strange mishap again. Surrounding yourself with the women feels suffocating. Even the pleasures of the flesh do nothing to soothe this ache—as all you can feel when you touch her is the inevitable death hiding beneath her supple skin.

The ache grows leaving you with one clear and present truth—you need to leave. In the past, you had dreamed, fleetingly, of what it would be like to be free of this place but now… This was no passing folly. Something within you screams that if you don’t get away, soon, it will be your undoing.

You lay on the roof of one of the dorms. The shingles, warm from the midday sun, provide a kind of hollow comfort. Birds swoop above you against a background of blue and soft white clouds—weightless, untethered, free…

An idea which had been flitting around the outer edges of your mind lands heavy in your chest now.

Wanda would be here in a few hours. Wanda whom Mother knew and trusted. Wanda… who was as free as the birds above you, who had her own house, her own acolytes, and duties which overlapped with your own. Maybe she would allow you to come to Tría House, serve with her for a time… Just… Maybe.

You know the chances are small. Many decades ago you’d asked to go into the city and Mother had raged at you about abandoning your duties for weeks. Any other time you’d tried to broach the issue it was always met with rancor. This may be the only way she would willingly allow you to leave. And leave you must. If she doesn’t allow you... it didn’t warrant thought now.

As you walk by Mother’s side at sunset to meet Wanda your fingers nervously stroke the coins in your pocket. Three coins you’d found three days before the three-faced goddess arrived… desperately you pray it’s a sign. Though who listened to the prayers of gods you didn’t know.

“Wanda!” Mother proclaims warmly as she enters the front gate.

“Deme,” Wanda embraces her warmly, “so wonderful to see you!” Releasing Mother she turns to you, “Kore, how are you?” She takes both of your hands in hers, drawing you in to kiss your cheeks.

The goddess has the power to hear the unspoken, you know this. Silently, you whisper over and over that you must speak with her alone. There’s a tingle where her skin meets yours. When she pulls back a faint red shimmer colors her irises. Almost imperceptibly she nods.

“Wonderful, thank you.” Your words holding more than a casual greeting.

“Come in, we have food and wine waiting.”

You’ve only just sat down in one of the oversized chairs in the living quarters you share with Mother when, as she turns to pour wine, a red haze colors the room. Immediately her movements cease, a deafening silence falling.

For a moment you freeze, panic that you’ve somehow done this flooding your system before the obvious cause registers.

Slowly you turn your gaze to Wanda. She’s transformed from the beautiful but earthly creature she was a moment ago. Her modern fitted burgundy and black garments replaced with flowing red and ash robes, her face shifts from youthful to beautiful to haggard so subtly you doubt you’re actually witnessing it, red tendrils of power flow from her coloring everything.

This is the goddess of witchcraft in her true form. You’re awestruck. Her power is great and terrifying but a warm smile fills her face removing any traces of fear.

“Tell me Kore, why would you ever think you’d done this?” Lazily her hand gestures to the room.

“Strange things have been happening to me of late…” Saying more seems like a risk.

Wanda nods as if she understands. “What did you need to say to me, sweet one?” Your eyes slide to your Mother’s still figure. “She cannot reach us here.”

“Where is here?”

“Don’t trouble yourself with that.” A smirk plays on her slightly shifting lips, “Tell me what you need.”

Guilt holds you back for but a moment until you feel the churning need in your gut once more, solidifying your resolve. “I need to leave this place, goddess.”

“This is your home Kore, your seat of power to be shared eternally with your mother.” She pauses, appearing to wrestle a bit with her next words, “As it has always been.”

You catch her gaze, holding it with determination, “But… must it always be? I don’t know how to explain it, Wanda, but something is wrong—inside me.”

Suddenly it feels like she’s looking through you. It isn’t painful but to say it was pleasant would be a stretch. Something dark flits across her features causing the red of the room to flicker a bit before strengthening once more.

“I wish I had the words. But this… restlessness is driving me mad. There is something pulling at me and I know I will not find it caged here for the rest of time.”

She nods, “And what would you have me do?”

“Let me serve you.”

“You’re a goddess Kore-”

“I serve mother. I have no altar to accept their offerings, none raise up praise in my name. I’m a goddess in title alone.”

“Are you certain this isn’t what is causing this unrest within you? Would you not have them raise the name Kore to their-”

“No,” you say with utter conviction. “I do not desire their worship, I don’t long to hear my name in prayers. I’d rather be nothing than have that.” You can see this is confusing to Wanda. Gods should crave these things… “At least not now. I cannot serve nor seek praise from a world and a people I know nothing of…”

“Ah,” this seems to make sense to her. “You seek pilgrimage, not servitude.”

“Perhaps I can do both under your guidance… if you’d take me.”

“Kore…”

“Mother will not let me leave this place… She never has.” Your desperation breaks, pushing yourself from the chair you hit your knees before her, grasping at her flowing garment.

“I beg you Wanda, Hecate, mighty goddess help me get out so I can tame this monster growing inside of me. I will forever be in your debt.”

Her hand reaches down, tilting your chin up. “You don’t need to grovel my dear, Kore. I’d be happy to help you.”

The room is devoid of that ethereal red glow in an instant. You’re back in your chair though you don’t recall moving from the floor and Mother seems entirely unfazed. Quickly you dart a glance to Wanda, a slight red glow at her fingertips. She gins and gives you a wink before your mother turns back with the wine for the goddess.

You listen as you always have when another member of the pantheon visits, a perfect image of an obedient child, despite being a grown woman—despite this feeling of being torn apart from the inside out. For now, you must appear as Mother would expect, the fear that even the slightest deviation would alert her to your plan.

“Kore is doing exceptional work in the lab, truly creating some miraculous specimens which I believe will aid you greatly.” Mother smiles at you.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Wanda looks at you appraisingly, “You know Deme, I would love to teach Kore some of my craft. It could be incredibly helpful in her work to know the intricacies of the work her specimens contribute to.”

“I’d love that!” You throw mother an excited smile, hoping it’s not overdone.

“I think that would be wonderful. Would you have the time to come here though, Wanda? I know your plate is so full.”

“Well,” Wanda takes a sip of her wine, “I’d prefer to have Kore at TrÍa House with me. It would be better to-”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, but I cannot allow that.” Mother’s features look stormy. “Kore belongs here.”

“Of course she does,” Wanda’s tone is thick as honey, “I would never think to remove her from her seat, simply to allow her to learn in a new environment. I’ve learned a great deal from working in-”

“I understand. However, my answer is no. If you’d like to teach her the craft it can be done here.”

“Mother,” it takes all your effort to keep your desperation from coloring your voice, “I would like to go, please. Learning from the goddess would be an honor and to see Tría House would-”

“My answer is final, Kore!” Mother’s voice booms in the space.

Red pulses around Wanda for a moment. “Demeter, is that necessary? It was only a suggestion.”

“A suggestion!? Taking my daughter from me is not just a suggestion. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“What I understand is that you would deny her the opportunity to gain the gift of knowledge to keep her here.” There’s more venom in Wanda’s voice than you’d ever anticipated.

“Please, Mother. I must grow to become worthy of my title. I… I can’t do that here.” You voice behind to shake at the end.

“So you want to leave, is that it?!”

“No! I need-”

“Need,” Mother’s tone is mocking. “Go to your chambers, Kore. I must speak with Wanda.”

“I am not a child!” Your voice cracks through the room as you thunder from your chair, sending the furniture flying back. Power pulses in your body, your eyes meeting your mother’s rage filed glare without flinching. For a moment, there seems to be a shaking beneath your feet, a distant cry of something from far below.

“I am a goddess! I need to grow outside of these gates Mother. Or would you rather I wither and die here?!” You were inches from her now. She showed no sign of budging until your final words but she says nothing more.

“Am I a prisoner or your daughter?”

“Of course you’re no prisoner…”

You let the rage slip from you a bit, “Then if I am not a prisoner give me your blessing to leave. I need this, Mother. Please.”

“I will keep her safe, Demeter. You must know this.” Mother throws Wanda a murderous glare before turning tired eyes back to you.

“It is a simple request, Mother.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think the two of you plotted this.” She pauses and you don’t dare breathe. “Fine. Forty days, Kore. After that I expect you to return with a wealth of new knowledge to better serve our purposes here.”

“Thank you, Mother!” You drop to your knees before her, clasping her hands and kissing her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“Forty days. No more.”

“I swear it.”

“Gather your things. I will help Wanda with the plants.”

You exchange a grateful look with Wanda before bolting, not wanting to give Mother time to change her mind.

In moments you’re pounding on Abigail’s door. “Abigail!” You’re practically giggling.

“Kore,” she smiles at your obvious excitement, “what’s happening?”

“I’m going to Tría House for a time to study with Wanda!” Taking a breath you attempt to calm yourself, “I… I was wondering if I could borrow a bag. I haven’t had need of one until now.”

“Of course!” Abigail beams at you, “How exciting! Tría House is stunning you’re going to love it! Come in while I find one.”

Abigail’s room in the main dorm had been her home for over ten years. It was a small space but Kore always felt comforted here, grounded. Even though Abigail was a human she had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease.

“How long will you be gone?” She asks over her shoulder, rifling through the closet.

“Forty days, so not too long.”

“Long enough,” Abigail says with a touch of melancholy handing you a large bag.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You take it gratefully. “Besides, you’ve been gone on missions longer.”

“True, but I always expect you to be here when I return.”

Your heart swells, if you could take her with you this would be perfect. You can’t linger, “I have to hurry.”

“Of course. Have a wonderful time.”

You pull her into a tight embrace, “Thank you, Abigail.”

“Anything, always goddess.”

Truthfully, you live a simple life here at Eleusis House compared to that of the other houses of the gods. Because of this, you don’t have much to fill your bag with. The copper coins you have found over the years you tuck into the bottom covered with your simple garments, your small ceremonial dagger, and… that’s it. What more did you need? There was a world out there waiting ready to fill your bag with its gifts.

Mother and Wanda wait for you by the front gate, wrapped in tense silence.

You aren’t sure what to say, you’d never had to say goodbye to your mother.

“Thank you,” it seems as good as anything.

“Yes… well… forty days.”

“I know.” You reach out to her but she doesn’t take the offer.

“Travel safe daughter.” With that, she turns away.

“Ready?” Wanda’s face is warm.

“Absolutely.”

Wanda wraps her glowing power around the plants you and Mother created, effortlessly levitating the boxes and steps out the gates.

You pause at the threshold though. This place was all you’d known, all you remembered. Life began and ended here up until now. Despite the slight desire, you don’t look back, lifting your foot you take a confident step out into a new world. In an instant, the churning within you ceases and you know you’ve done the right thing.

As you follow Wanda neither of you see the three women in the alley across from Eleusis House, their hooded capes covering them head to toe. You do not see them turn to one another and nod in seeming approval before fading into the shadows.

James’ nose fills with the intoxicating scent of Narcissus flowers, rich damp earth, and rain. His heart flutters oddly at the smell.

Suddenly he gasps for air. Choking—he’s choking… no. Drowning. He can feel the water flooding his lungs, even with their supernatural strength they cannot force the liquid out.

Dull light glitters through the dark water above him. He reaches for it with his left hand but there’s nothing there, just the dull ache of absence. Would Lady Death take him in such a way? Was his duty over?

A loud roaring bark next to his ear wrenches him from the clutches of the dream. He shoots up, body trembling, glistening with moisture. Cerberus licks the back of his hand, looking up with worried eyes.

The hounds had broken down the door to make sure their master was alright. He couldn’t even be angry.

“Thank you.”

Sleeping would be impossible after that dream. With a groan, he stands padding over to the balcony doors. Flinging them open he steps into the cool night air taking in the glittering city skyline.

A breeze picks up, running its fingers over his damp skin, making him shiver not unpleasantly and filling his nostrils with the scent of Narcissus flowers… damp earth… and rain.

Something had changed. He can feel it to his marrow, in the tingling at the back of his skull.

Cerberus follows him out, raising their heads to the air sniffing. A small whimper escapes the beast drawing James from his thoughts. He mistakes the noise as a sign of hunger.

“I could use a snack too. Come on.” He looks out into the night once more, pushing the feeling aside, before turning his back on the night.

The hounds linger behind, eyes on the three shadowy figures standing on the roof of the building opposite whom its master didn’t seem to notice. In an instant, they’re gone but the scent of someone familiar lingers.

Tags:

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @cinderellarhea @nerd-without-a-cause @musical-doll-x @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @gotham-city-muse @egos-r-life @jewelofwinter @callie-bear15 @-lilacnialler- @libbymouse @siriuslycloudy2 @capkitkat @courtmr @emilysallysmith @brilliantkey @achishisha @ayanemoonlight @wildmoonflower @captain-hammer-of-asgard @a-hardcore-romantic

#bucky x reader #Marvel AU #Hades x Persephone #Hades!Bucky #persephone!reader

143 notes · View notes