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lizzie-is-here · 2 years

Text

like the dawn

part ix- freefall

“i wish i had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that.” - brian andreas

summary: after the avengers publicly drop the accords, you have to help pick up the mess. all while dealing with some very complicated feelings.

wordcount: 4.4k

warnings: cussing, paparazzi, the press sucking, trauma, steve feeling left out 🥺, pining, arguing, guilt, a brief moment of what could be seen as su!c!dal behavior?

a/n: sorry this took so long! also that it’s kind of random and jumps around lol. gen eds have been kicking my ass and i’ve been drowning in work but the parties here are good and i’ve managed to avoid the sororities 😭 love u guys hope you enjoy!! 🤍 also peep the parallel from when bucky and reader fell asleep on a mission and now 👀

ps: pls help decide my next series! i’ll be posting it again later to try again, but there are three options! 🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey

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“Wait, you’re dropping the Accords?”

You huff as the group of superheroes bustle around one single board room. It’s been 20 hours since Siberia, and you still haven’t gotten to sleep.

Tony put out a formal announcement dropping the Accords hours earlier, promising that his lawyers would deal with the property damages. Now, until some of the mess gets cleared up, everyone involved is stuck.

In the Avengers Compound. Together. For at least a month.

“How do we know we can trust them?” Sam asks, flinging a hand at the other side of the room. Steve begins to explain your reasoning as you sink further into the corner. You don’t want to be seen right now, much less dragged into the conversation.

The compound is full of technology, with doors that open for you and some disembodied voice called FRIDAY. You like FRIDAY. She sounds nice.

The robot, who you now know is called the Vision, frowns. “Sergeant Barnes and Agent (L/N) have extensive charges to be dealt with, as well as most of Captain Rogers’s team. Are we sure we're going about this the right way?”

“The fact that we stay together is more important than how,” Natalia reiterates. “And besides, I know those two.” You glance up guiltily, curling even further in on yourself. “They aren’t going to pull anything.”

Tony massages the spot between his eyebrows as you’ve often seen him do lately. He hasn’t been necessarily rude, no, but more… apprehensive.

“Well, if we’re going to be stuck together, we might as well get used to it,” he announces. I’ll have FRIDAY show you all to your rooms. We can head into town tomorrow for decorations, pillows, all that fun stuff.”

You get your own room? Following the AI’s instructions, you wind down a hallway as Bucky follows you, Steve trailing along. He won’t admit it, but he feels out of place in your trio now.

As horrible as your time in HYDRA was, it undeniably strengthened the bond between you two. And Steve? He can’t help but feel a bit behind.

You and Bucky seem to communicate on some subconscious level. A brief glance and he’s getting you water, a shaky breath and you’re resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

You open the door to your room first and practically freeze in the doorway. Yes, the room is pretty bare right now. The ceilings are noticeable though. A large, round bed with a metal frame and matching furniture fills the carpeted floors. Some curtains, a small TV, and a view over the compound grounds. Opening a door inside the room, you find a private bathroom. All your own.

You’ve never been more grateful to have a place to stay. Bucky sits on the bed tentatively, almost startling at how soft and plush it is.

“Why’s it round?” he asks, tracing the edge.

Steve chuckles. “Tony won’t admit it, but he did his research. Figured a round bed would be easier to navigate with wings.”

You want to hop on, but to be honest, you’re sweaty, greasy, and absolutely dying to see why there are two showerheads and a whole shelf of bottles, so you gesture to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna get the dirt off. I’ll be right back,” you call, wandering in and leaving your boys behind. They grin in unison.

Bucky lifts up a hand and begins to count. “1, 2, 3-“

“Steve?” Your voice echoes. “How do I turn on the shower?”

The brunet nods. “Told you.” Steve heads to the door, knocking before stepping inside. After pointing out all of the different shampoos and how to adjust the temperature, he leaves you be.

Back in your room, Bucky’s fiddling with the TV. He manages to turn it on and avoid the news channel, offering the remote to Steve. As casually as ever, he immediately identifies what’s been on the latter’s mind.

“You’re not some third wheel,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Rogers. You look like a kicked puppy.” Steve huffs, giving in. Bucky’s always been a bit too good at reading him. “I know we aren’t the exact same people we were back then. I’m not sure if that’s what you were expecting-” He clenches his metal hand. “-But we… Whatever happened, we’re still the same, on some level, at least.”

The blond considers his words. “You two just seem so… close now. Even with the whole memory thing, you know everything about each other.” He glances at your bathroom door. “I feel like I don’t know as much as I want to.”

Bucky shrugs. “Well, we’re stuck in this compound for a few weeks at least. Got plenty of time to learn.”

“It’ll take some time,” he continues, “70 years in HYDRA is no joke. But I know I trust you. And I know she trusts you. And I know we have for a long, long time.”

You step out of the bathroom just then, wrapped in a fluffy towel with a small yet beaming grin on your face. The shower was heavenly, clearly.

“Do you want some clothes?” Steve asks, watching your eyes widen further. He opens a drawer, pulling a tank top and some sweats for you. A moment later, after you change, you literally soar onto the bed face-first, sinking into the blanket with a contented sigh.

Bucky runs a hand over one wing. You cleaned your feathers, but now they need to be preened. And he did promise he’d show Steve.

“You mind if I teach Steve a valuable skill?” he asks, only half-joking. Taking care of your wings is his way of showing that he cared when words were either too much or too little. The same way you showed that you care every time you pleaded with him to heal the pain in his shoulder, even temporarily. He never did let you, though.

You nod, stretching them out with a groan. Ink-black and shimmering with hidden colors, they touch each end of the bed as they lay across Steve and Bucky’s laps.

“See feathers like this?” Bucky begins, pointing out one that got a bit rustled in the shower. He gently pinches it at the base and smooths the barbs down. “If too many get like that, it can affect waterproofing and flight.”

You snort under your breath. “Yeah, had to learn that the hard way. Ran into a window,” you huff. The brunet points to another feather.

“You try.”

Steve is beyond careful. He touches the feather like it’ll snap in his hand, smoothing it out with delicate precision. When you don’t react negatively, only reach for the remote and begin to search for a history channel, he continues.

“What’s it like? Living here?” you ask, humming softly.

Steve keeps his focus on your wings, but shrugs. “Not bad. Gets a bit loud sometimes.”

“And the team?”

“They’re good. I trust them, they do the same.” He carefully avoids the word ‘family’. “We’ll get this all sorted, and maybe we can get you a job in the infirmary or something.”

You stir. “What? No, I want to work with you. I want to get back on the field.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says. “You don’t have to fight anymore, no one’s going to expect you to.”

Bucky, who had been occupied with the TV, cuts in. “She’s right. I want back in. If we have a chance to do good, and reverse some of what we did, we need to take it.”

“Exactly.” You nod, which seems to only frustrate Steve.

“Neither of you need to be charging back into a fight! You’ve been fighting for decades, you need a break.”

“You’re still raiding old HYDRA bases, correct?” you ask. The name sickens you. “We know more about… them, than anyone. We’d be valuable assets.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re not assets,” he insists. “Why are you so set on this?”

“Because we almost killed you,” Bucky snaps. “We promised Sarah we’d keep you safe, and we were the ones who almost took you out.”

“That was in 1927, we were in fourth grade,” Steve sighs. “Plus, it was before the serum, and all-” He waves a vague hand around. “-this.”

Throughout the whole argument, neither had ceased preening your wings, and upon finding all of your feathers in place, had resorted to fiddling with them. You let out a deep groan, sitting up and folding your wings behind you.

“This is stupid. We don’t even know if we’re going to prison yet,” you mumble. “We’ve gotten you into enough trouble, Steve. We just want to help you out.”

He eases, tension leaving his shoulders. “And I just want you two to be okay. We’ll get you introduced to the modern world, and then maybe- and it’s a big maybe - we can talk about missions.”

That settles down the argument, and you lay down again between the two.

“Don’t you have a room too, Buck?” you ask. He freezes for a second, but nods. You get it. You’ve been sleeping near each other for so long that separating is scary. But it’s probably better for both of you. Probably.

Rolling from your bed, you follow Steve as he steps only two rooms down. His room is in the middle.

Bucky opens the door, pleased to find some blackout curtains already hung up. His room is similar to yours, though the bed is a bit smaller and a heating pad is folded up on the nightstand.

He’s about to lay on his own bed when a knock sounds on the door and Natalia peeks in.

“Are you all gonna come to dinner? Or are you gonna argue again?” You aren’t sure how she heard. She was always sneaky.

“We’ll come,” you say, trailing behind her as Bucky and Steve stay behind for a moment.

“So,” she says. “The Angel of Death is secretly the (Y/N) (L/N). As in, ‘the only bow sniper in World War II, first female SHIELD agent, save Director Carter herself,’ (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Between us, I always looked up to you. Especially after escaping the Red Room. I knew you were out there somewhere.”

She grins, bouncing gracefully along the halls.

“You don’t… hate me?” you venture, struggling to keep up with her pace.

She shakes her head. “No, you were just as trapped as I was. I can’t hate you for that.”

You allow a small grin to yourself, shoulders lighter as she turns a corner and enters the kitchen.

“Thanks, Natalia,” you say.

“Natasha.” She passes you a glass of water and extends a hand as if introducing herself. “Romanoff.”

You play along. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

Dinner turns out to be courtesy of Wanda, and the smell of a Sokovian dish is pleasantly overwhelming as she serves plates. Instead of a chair, she magics a tall stool over for you. You eat gratefully, enjoying your first home-cooked meal in over 70 years.

The table is separated into the previous teams, with occasional glares thrown here and there. Mainly between Steve and Tony.

“Would you two quit it?” Wanda chides. “Your thoughts are so aggressive.”

Scott Lang, mid-chew and leaning over the table, raises his hand. “So how does that work? Can you just, read everyone’s minds?” That sends an uncomfortable shiver through you. Even if she means well, you don’t want her peering into your thoughts.

Thankfully, she shakes her head.

“No, just the loud ones.” She points to Tony, Steve, Peter, and him. Then, she turns to you, Natasha, and Bucky. “I can’t read them at all.”

Bucky nods. “I doubt you’d want in there, anyways.”

———————————————————————

After dinner, you help clean up, awkwardly avoid Tony, and head to bed after saying goodnight to Steve and Bucky. You turn the TV on to a random channel for some noise, secure the room, and lay down.

Sleeping isn’t easy. Or, at least, trying to. The bed is so soft you feel like you’re sinking, the blankets are too comfortable, and your wings have a surprising amount of room.

And after you finally get close to sleep, the memories sink in. With nothing but the quiet sound from the TV, there’s nothing to distract you.

Your time in HYDRA is never clearer than at night.

Endless training regimens that you’ve memorized cycle through your head. Different experiments, new recruits fighting back but always succumbing to the iron grip of the guards. And screaming. Lots of it.

How you forgot the names of your best friends when one was right in front of you and the other was a national hero. How scared you are that you’ll forget them again. Your hand twitches towards the nightstand drawer where your notebooks lie.

Pages and pages describing them both, with every memory you have in some attempt to never forget them, no matter what happens.

But what if HYDRA gets you? What if they put you back in that goddamn chair and scramble your brain again?

What if they don’t stop you in time?

Your mental spiral is cut off by you doing what you know best. Hopping out of bed and summoning a ball of light, you walk down the hallway to Bucky’s room.

He opens the door before you even knock. As silent as your footsteps are, enhanced hearing picks up everything.

“You too?” You nod. Glancing towards Steve’s room, he slips into Russian.

“Он чувствует себя... изолированным. Мы можем… [He’s been feeling… isolated. Can we…]?” He waves a hand to Steve’s door, wordlessly asking if you’re okay with opening this part of yourself up to him. Without hesitation, you knock.

Clearly, Steve wasn’t getting much sleep either. His lamp is on and he doesn’t seem shocked to see you waiting.

None of you say anything as he lets you both in, tosses the covers on his bed back, and turns off his lamp. You crawl in on one side, Bucky on the other- just like before when you’d keep Steve warm when the heat kicked off and his countless illnesses kicked on.

You feel an arm wrap around your shoulders and you reach across the blond to lay a hand on the brunet’s shoulder.

And you sleep. And in the morning, when the rest of the team comes looking and find the three of you peacefully tucked under the covers, none of them wake you either.

———————————————————————

It’s three days later, after keeping up the same routine with your boys without acknowledging it, when you run into Tony in the early morning. You’re standing in the kitchen, frozen on the spot as you grab the orange juice.

The genius never seemed to sleep. But you’d never run into him.

“I’m not gonna tackle you for getting a drink, geez,” he mutters, passing you to start the coffee maker.

You pour three glasses, hoping he doesn’t notice. He does, but doesn’t comment.

“Thank you.” You barely speak above a whisper. You’re living in his compound, off of his money, after killing his parents. “For all of this.”

Tony softens. From his dad and his history books, he’d formed an idea of you that was confident and proud. But here you were in the kitchen, afraid of pouring too much orange juice lest there isn’t enough for someone else.

The way you and Bucky have been trying to make yourselves as small as possible reminds Tony of himself. Howard was a busy man, who didn’t really want a toddler running around his legs. So young Tony learned to stay quiet and undisruptive.

It’s the same behavior, even if it doesn’t work as well for a metal-armed assassin and an archer with a ten-foot wingspan.

“You’re welcome,” he finally says. “You know, if you drink all the orange juice, all I’m gonna do is send you and Barnes and Noble on a grocery run.” The teasing is his way of apologizing for the fight in Siberia. Even if he isn’t ready to forgive the other two, he’s willing to give you a pass.

Tony leaves without another word, taking his coffee with him. Balancing the drinks in your arms, you head back to Steve’s room. When you open the door, your boys are already up. A side effect of the serum; you needed much less sleep.

“Morning,” they greet. You smile, passing off the glasses as you stretch. Being stuck inside has started to bother you. Not that you’d complain, but without access to the gym (which is constantly full of nosy SHIELD agents) or outside, you’re getting a bit antsy.

Peeking through the curtains to the compound grounds, you turn away from the window just as Bucky and Steve get up and start getting ready. None of you have even spoken about the sleeping situation.

Falling asleep is easier with them. Breathing is easier with them. Everything is.

Maybe it’s time to stop avoiding the subject of those letters you wrote.

“There’s a team meeting this morning,” Steve calls from the bathroom. “Apparently, we got some updates on what we’re allowed to do now. Hopefully we can get you guys out of this compound for the day.”

“Where’d we go?” Bucky asks, pressing the knots out of his left shoulder.

“Well, there’s always this museum in Brooklyn. Whole thing’s based on us there.”

You tear your eyes away from the shirtless brunet. “We’ve got a museum?”

“Yeah. Replica of our apartment, some old items of ours. Plus, we’ve got an exhibit in the Smithsonian. Your lockbox is there.”

The box. You had thought it’d been destroyed.

“They didn’t open it, did they?” Steve shakes his head.

“They’ve got the key, but kept it locked out of respect. Especially now that you’re back.” Thank fuck. You might have to go and get that back if you aren’t tossed in prison.

Bucky finally picks a shirt and tugs it on. “That’d be nice. Might go crazy if I have to talk to Wilson anymore.”

“Go easy on him, he’s trying to be nice,” you tell him.

You take your time getting ready, lazily navigating around each other as the sun rises and the compound starts getting busier. Around 7:00, you decide to head to the designated board room.

After a few days, you’ve gotten much better at navigating the compound. The Avengers’ meeting room is one of many down the hall from the first floor elevators, the third room on the left with the door always left open.

Meetings and dinner are the only times the whole group is together. Probably for the best, since some members have been going a bit stir-crazy.

The teen, Peter, spends most of his time around Tony, but when he isn’t following the billionaire he’s talking to you, Steve, or Bucky. Something about how he can pass US History now that he knows you.

Scott Lang has resorted to sleight-of-hand card tricks, practicing them for anyone who will watch. He’s pretty good, all things considered.

Everyone else has been doing alright with the confined space. Except you, you’re reminded as your wings ache.

You’re the first ones to arrive, shortly followed by the assassin duo and Sam. Everyone else filters in shortly after, with Tony arriving last with a new cup of coffee.

“Well, we’re starting the day off with some good news. We’re allowed to leave the Compound now, just not go out of state.”

When no one else asks, you give in. “And the bad news?”

He sighs. “Lots of that. Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross is pressing charges. I’ve got my team on it, but…” Hesitating, he projects a screen. Holographic. You try your best to focus on the video and not the tech.

“National War Heroes Sgt. James Barnes and Agent (Y/N) (L/N) were found to be the infamous Winter Soldier and Angel of Death just a year ago. Now, they’ve gotten involved with the Avengers, and the most recent dispute over the Accords, which would put the Avengers under control of the United Nations.”

“Earlier this week, Tony Stark announced that the Avengers would not be supporting the Accords, and is moving to gain the rights to operate independently. But with the track record of Barnes and (L/N), it’s not proving to be an easy task.”

The newsreel cuts away from the woman, showing a march at a Texas courthouse. Some people carried signs calling you a traitor, pictures of you and Bucky with marks drawn through them. They labeled you murderers and monsters.

Neither of you says anything about it. Just exchange a glance and try to ignore the familiarity of the words they shout.

“Only time can tell how this will end for Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,” the reporter finishes.

Your stomach turns. You can feel the lingering eyes as you hunch in on yourself, staring at the expensive-looking table and tracing the lines in the wood. Your wings twitch, giving you away.

“Hey, the good news is that a bunch of people are supporting us,” Peter says, checking his phone. “There’s a few petitions going for the team and you two.” You smile gratefully, still worrying a line into the table.

“What can we do to make this easier?” you ask.

Tony sighs. “We need to get the public opinion of you up. If we send you out for errands and you make a good impression with the press…” He trails off as Bucky grows visibly nervous. “...If you’re willing to try it, it’s worth a shot.”

You nod. “I will. If it helps you, I’ll try.”

“I can come too, just to help mediate if something goes wrong,” Steve offers, mainly directing his words to the brunet who won’t look up from his left hand.

Bucky steels his nerves and nods. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Sam speaks up, gesturing to the team. “So, now that we’re not stuck lazing around, shouldn’t we get back to training? Having a routine will help with whatever’s coming and exercise is a good outlet.”

“Plus it’s a chance to get you flying again,” Steve says. “I know your wings are sore.”

The group starts putting together a workout circuit, scheduling who gets the gym at what times, who wants to train with who. The weather outside is pleasant, not too hot, and with a light fog covering the grounds.

Slipping away, you wander around until you glance to the ceiling. “Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. (L/N)?” You smile at her gentle voice.

“Where’s the nearest roof access?”

She guides you down a few hallways, eventually pointing out a stairwell. When you finally open the door to the roof, stretching your wings wide, you nearly sob in relief. In HYDRA, you only flew when you had to. But flying for yourself had become one of your favorite things ever since Bucky suggested it as a way to reclaim that part of yourself.

Bending your knees, you launch yourself into the air, squinting against the wind as you rise in the early light. The air is heavy with dew, and condensation runs off your feathers as you reach your desired height.

And you drop.

Freefalling is a moment of peace. It’s absolute bliss to give into gravity and have a moment of true, stomach-dropping exhilaration. It’s not fear, it’s not joy. But it makes you feel human.

It never lasts long, though. You spread your wings and break the fall right above the compound, swerving around the building. You don’t notice that the door you left triggered a notification to the board room or the team watching.

Unaware of them, you loop and spin to your heart’s content before landing back on the roof. Shaking the water from your wings, you hurry back down the stairwell and back to the team.

Thankfully, they don’t mention seeing your little joyride. You slide back onto a stool and apologize for running off.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve been cooped up long enough,” Natasha grins. “We were just discussing when to send you three out.”

“And since we’re out of milk because someone-” Tony glares pointedly at Scott. “-has a cereal addiction, we figured today would be good.”

That’s sooner than you thought. Well, best to get it over with.

———————————————————————

You let Steve drive. He knows his way through the city and is the least prone to road rage, so you take the back seat while Bucky takes the front and mans the radio.

Steve pulls up by a grocery store and grabs the list, warning you about the paparazzi before he opens the door and a crowd descends on you.

You dodge eager hands as they reach for your wings and Bucky’s arm. Cameras flash as you try not to look too panicked for the photos.

“Ms. (L/N)! Is it true you were brainwashed under HYDRA?” Glancing to Steve, he nods in approval.

You lean towards the microphone as the reporters also lean in.

“Yes, that’s true.”

They scramble at your words and you flinch away, backing into your friends.

“What do you mean by that?” one asks.

Clearing your throat, the words flow easier as you go on. “HYDRA perfected a form of electric-shock treatment that could brainwash us when combined with trigger words.”

Even though they continue to press for more quotes to take out of context, you make it inside the store and finally get to breathe. Sure, you’ve been in groceries before, but the variety in the 21st century continues to amaze you.

While Steve works his way down the list, methodically stacking the products in the two carts, you and Bucky go a bit crazy. With his permission, you both grab things at random, tossing them into the cart with no regard to Steve’s organization.

By the time you check out, you’ve grabbed marshmallow fluff, a mango, a few chocolate bars, and some ice cream. Flinching at the price, you help carry the bags to the car to make up for the extra items.

It’s drizzling and the sidewalks are much less busy now, and no one approaches you as you sit in the car peacefully.

“I’m glad to have you two back,” Steve says eventually. ‘I care about you more than you know, and I’ll fight every government in the world if I have to,’ he thinks.

“I’m glad to be back,” Bucky agrees. “We got pretty lucky. We all made it back together in alright shape.”

You feel more at home than ever. It’s an all-encompassing sort of comfort that you don’t have the words to express. It’s the being carried to bed and being given the last bite of food kind of feeling. It’s knowing that you’re cared for, and wanted, and-

You know the closest word to describe it, but don’t dare utter it.

Instead, you smile, think about the letters in the lockbox, and watch as cars pass by.

“Well. the universe couldn’t keep us apart forever. We made a pinkie promise, after all.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x winged!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x winged!reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

Text

On Wings of Fate (1) - s.r. | b.b.

Summary: You meet a kind stranger one day in the marketplace. He's a pirate, but a good man, he swears. Your knight isn't so sure, but oh, what does he know? You like the pirate; his eyes are like the sea and his smile... oh, his smile is trouble. Yet from the moment he docked at your kingdom's port, you just may have bargained for more than the three of you could ever imagined.

Pairing: knight!Steve Rogers x princess!fem!Reader x pirate!Bucky Barnes

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: none

A/N: i'm back with a new series! this one is stucky x reader, and it's gonna be a fun time!!!

quick note: the setting is purposely vague, as i want all readers to feel included. it's an older setting in terms of technology but there is magic and fantasy themes (aka i will not be following the customs of 18th century England, or anything like that). furthermore, i will be making up a lot of stuff as i go. :)

I do not do taglists anymore! You can follow @sanguine-marvel for new updates on all my Marvel fics.

****

"Fish! Fresh fish! Fair price!"

"Veal! Get your veal here!"

You sidestepped bundles of fabric, pulling your hood down further to conceal your face. It was thin, suitable for the summer, yet enough to mask your identity. If any of the shopkeepers or surrounding guards figured out it was you, you'd be eating in your chambers for a month.

"Gems! Precious stones! Treasure your woman!"

You scoffed at that, glancing across the road at the stall with stones that were, undoubtedly, very lovely. One particular necklace caught your eye, cerulean and sparkling in the noon sun. If you bought it, you'd be questioned on where you got it. Especially by your knight. He didn't miss a thing.

It happened too fast. You didn't see the cart until it had already passed, kicking up dust in its wake. The squeal of the horses rang in your ears as a strong arm curled around your waist and yanked you back. You crashed into a strong chest, panicking for a moment, until you realized the owner bore no ill will to you.

"Are you alright?"

Blue. Eyes like the stone in the stall, like the first waves at sea. He stepped back as you caught your breath, heart thumping in your chest. You grabbed the wooden stall for purchase, staring back. He watched you, fingerless gloved hand lifted slightly, ready to catch you if you fell.

"Miss," he repeated. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I am. I—thank you."

He smiled and you decided then that he had a rather kind face, even wrapped in a dark tunic and unpolished boots.

"Careful. These carts move fast. Did they hurt you?"

"No," you breathed, still shaken. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure? Hey." He gently took your wrist, eyes soft. "It's alright. You're safe, I promise. And a promise is no light thing, y'know."

He was being playful on purpose. You wondered if he could feel your ratcheted heartbeat. He was handsome; eyes bright, lips sweet like trouble. You liked him all the same.

"Name's Bucky," he offered, perhaps all too aware of the fact that he was still a stranger.

"Bucky," you repeated. "I—"

"There he is!"

His grin widened, sharp around the edges. It was the telltale warning of palace guards. He winked, calloused fingers eventually slipping from your grip. Swift as a hare, Bucky leapt over the stall bench, much to the displeasure of the owner. You watched, stunned, as he ran. A throng of five guards sped past you with their swords drawn as they gave chase. You followed, making sure not to go in the road.

"Split up!" ordered the leader of the pack, and they did, tearing up the marketplace.

You winced at the blade notches in the passing stalls, the guards careless in their hunt. You'd tried explaining to your father before how reckless some of the men could be in their pursuit of so-called criminals. But the king hardly listened to you these days, taking everything his advisor said as holy word.

Eventually, the guards came to a stop, the leader sweaty and red-faced. He was brawny, with a mustache. Sir Jones. You'd never liked him. Arrogant and brash, he took pride in spilling blood.

“He can’t have gone far," Jones grunted. “Spread out!”

In a far corner, a haystack rustled. You swallowed, then stepped forward, making sure your hood covered part of your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you began meekly, soft as you could manage. “Are you looking for the runner? Dark hair?”

“Yes,” he answered gruffly. “Have you seen him?”

“Why, yes,” you nodded, lifting a finger. “He went that way, to the woods. He frightened me, sir!”

“Not to worry, woman. We’ll capture him in no time. This way, men!”

You watched, waiting until they were well up the path and towards the forest. The market continued to bustle, people ignoring the commotion. Bits of hay fell to the floor. The cows chewed their cud, unbothered.

Your savior emerged. He crept out carefully, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. He—Bucky—eventually focused on you, plainly confused.

“You led 'em away.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why are the guards chasing you?”

He smiled.

“Because I docked here.”

"Is that all?" you wondered.

Bucky shrugged.

"It's enough. My boots ain't as shiny as theirs. So, I'm a criminal."

“Well, they’re not very bright.”

“Most palace guards aren't known for their wit, miss."

"They're not all like that," you defended.

"No? And how would you know?"

“I have a sense about people.”

Something in his eyes flickered.

“As do I.”

“He’s not there, sire!”

Hooves beat against the cobble, horses whinnying as the guards slowed to a stop. Your heart stuttered as one of them seemed to look straight at you.

“Go down to the docks,” sneered Jones. “He’ll turn up soon enough to catch his precious ship. Hyah!”

They started for the docks. You turned to Bucky, frowning.

“How will you escape?”

“Not my first time,” Bucky said. “Won’t be my last.”

“I can hide you.”

"What?"

Yeah, what? Why were you offering this stranger a safe passage? He certainly was no mere merchant if the guards were chasing him through the city.

"I—" you bit your lip. Bucky looked on in honest bewilderment. "I want to help you. You helped me. You took far more risk than I in your aid."

"I don't know about that," he frowned. "And how? They’ll search everywhere. You may get into trouble.”

“I won’t,” you said. “They won’t suspect me.”

Bucky considered you, then glanced around.

"You sure about this?"

"Yes," you replied, walking back to the castle. "I am."

Not even two steps in, he stopped you, hand gentle on your elbow. Bucky's fingers were adorned with rings—one had a stone just like the sky. Another was a deep scarlet, like the heart of a fire.

“I mean this in the kindest way possible, but are you mad? The castle is the last place I should go.”

“We’ll go through the servant’s quarters. They lead almost directly to the armory. Then you’ll disguise yourself as a knight.”

He hesitated, warily looking you over.

"The servants are preparing for the festival," you reminded. "No one will see you." That was how you'd snuck out originally. Though he couldn't know that. You weren't supposed to be out on your own in the first place.

The quarters were empty, just like you'd predicted, and you went through without a hitch. Training was over for the morning, so no guards were in the armory.

"You're similar height to my—the gate's knight," you said, considering a chestplate. "This ought to fit."

"You still haven't told me your name, you know."

"I know. Try this on." You handed him a helmet.

"Why do I get the feeling you're hiding something?" he asked, taking the helmet.

"Perhaps it's that sense of yours."

Down the hall, a door slammed. You froze, then quickly unbuttoned your cloak, stuffing it under a table. Bucky's eyes widened.

"Are those rubies on your neck?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes. You should probably hide right about now."

"You're not a servant. What are you, a lady?"

"Depends on who you ask. Father calls me a menace."

"Y/N!"

You ushered Bucky behind a curtain before he could ask any more questions, yanking them shut.

"What are—"

"Shush, or he'll hear you," you warned. "I'll get you out, but you must be silent. This is a clever knight—not like the ones in the market."

"Y/N, are you here?"

You whirled around a moment before the doors opened.

"Y/N. What… are you doing in here?"

"Steve! You found me faster than usual today. I think you're getting better at this."

You beamed, shuffling away from the curtains. Steve watched you, eyes already narrowed.

"Yes," he replied slowly. "Well, you've certainly been giving me practice. Did you have a nice time sneaking away to the marketplace?"

"Oh," you shrugged. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Y/N," Steve sighed. "I've told you time and again not to go without a guard. You don't know who might be looking to harm you. I've been searching for you all morning."

"I'm sorry. You're very right, Steve. It jeopardizes my safety. I should listen to you more often."

"I—yes. Yes, you should." He squinted. "What are you hiding?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You never agree so easily. That means you've done something."

"Me, doing things? Never! That would not be proper of me, Steve. Everyone knows my duty is to sit about with air in my head."

"Which you couldn't do if your life depended on it," he muttered.

"Yes, well, if you'll be on your way, I can get back to practicing."

Steve stepped forward, sword clinking gently. Then he stilled, glancing around. You exhaled quietly, doing your best to keep a neutral face when he noticed the out of place armor.

"Why is that there?"

"Hmm? Oh, well…" You sighed heavily. "I suppose now you should know my secret, Steven. Truthfully, it has always been my dream to be a Royal Guard. I'm terribly envious of all the chainmail you get to wear."

You traced the lines of metal with your finger, gazing longingly.

"Oh, how I wish to feel the cool press of armor on my skin! But such is not a fate for me. Woe—woe, Steve!"

"Try again, Y/N."

"Steven! Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"You offend me, knight," you huffed. "That is rather presumptuous of you."

"Presumptuous? You've only been cooking up schemes since we were children."

"Only for good."

Steve looked at you, then at the room. He drew his sword and zeroed in on the curtains.

"No, wait!"

Too late. He flicked open the curtains before you could move. But Bucky was ready.

"Steve, is it? Pleasure."

Steve was one of your father's best soldiers. It had been after he'd won a medal for valor that your father had assigned him to your personal detail. He always kept you safe. Sometimes that also made him a not very good listener.

"Steve, he's not a threat!" you tried again, grimacing at the clash of metal.

Bucky blocked every advance, also skilled with a sword. Steve parred right. You stepped forward—both men were far too determined for your comfort.

Steve glanced at you, concerned, and in a second, the sword slipped from his grasp, landing across the room. Bucky pointed the tip of his sword at Steve's chest.

"Leave Her Highness alone," ordered Steve. "Do what you will with me, but do not harm her."

"And take the lovely princess's handsome knight away? Now why would I do a thing like that?"

"You've no business here."

"I'm helping him, Steve," you explained exasperatedly, inserting yourself between them, hand on Steve's bicep. "Bucky saved my life today, in the market."

"He did what?"

Bucky took a step back, bowing slightly as he sheathed his sword.

"The name's Barnes. Bucky, if you're feeling sweet."

He retrieved Steve's blade, handing it to him.

"You fight well. For a knight."

"Funny," Steve replied. "For a thief."

"Oh, hey now, I'm no thief, Sir Steven. I docked here hoping to refuel for a night. I've committed no crimes."

"And Jones chased him all through the market, Steve, ruining the stalls!" you fumed. "It angers me so, I could just spit."

Bucky grinned.

"Beauty and heart. You've got it all, princess."

"Hang on. Go back to the saving your life part," said Steve, who was assuredly not amused.

"Umm," you started. "Well, there was a tiny thing with a cart in the road and Bucky pulled me back. It was a footnote for the day, really."

"Y/N, this is exactly what I mean! You could've gotten seriously hurt and—"

"But I didn't, Steve! Because of Bucky. And now he needs help. So I'm going to disguise him as a knight and sneak him out of the city."

"Oh, absolutely not. Y/N, I've supported a lot over the years and lied for you even more, but this is ridiculous. You can't stow a criminal in the palace armory."

"Again," chimed Bucky. "Not a criminal."

Steve looked at him, arms crossed.

"You're a merchant then?"

"In a sense."

"I see. And what sort of cargo do you carry, merchant?"

"All sorts. Whatever needs transport."

"Uh-huh. And your documentation for transport?"

"It's on its way," Bucky shrugged.

"Right. Y/N, he's a pirate."

"Steve! What a cruel thing to say," you scolded. "Bucky is an honorable man."

"Honorable men can be pirates," said Bucky. "We exist."

"No such thing," Steve grumbled. "There is no honor among pirates."

"Like there's so much with you knights."

"What would you know about—"

"My God," you cut in. "Will you both quiet down? Bucky, I meant what I said: I will get you to your boat."

"Princess, as kind as that is, I think it would be best if I went on my own. I don't believe your guard dog likes me very much."

"Don't mind him. Steve will come round."

"No, I will not," he said firmly. "Y/N, this is very serious. Please do not make me go to your father."

"You wouldn't! Oh, Steve, don't. Bucky saved my life—he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"He's a pirate, Y/N! A commoner is one thing, but…"

"Look, I don't wanna cause a tiff between you," said Bucky. "I know when to bow out."

"There'll be no bows yet. Steve, if you trust me at all, you'll help me to help Bucky."

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Y/N, of course I trust you, but—"

"He doesn't deserve to be arrested! So what if he's a pirate? He could've asked for a reward or taken advantage of me, but he didn't."

Steve took your arm, gently steering you across the armory. Bucky nodded, giving a thumbs-up.

"Take your time," he called. "I'll be here, not thieving."

"Y/N," Steve began, lowering his voice. "I know you want to help him and I'm glad he helped you, truly. But if your father catches wind of you consorting with a pirate, he'd have his head and maybe yours too."

"But he wouldn't know! Not if you helped us. Father trusts you. Pierce trusts you."

"Pierce thinks I'm a brainless ass."

"Well, yes. In any case, he'd never suspect you."

Steve glanced at Bucky.

"You're really sure about him?"

"I am. He doesn't deserve the dungeons."

You took one of Steve's large hands in both of your own, hugging it to your chest. Steve lightly curled his fingers around yours. You smiled, bringing his hand up to brush your cheek.

"Please? For me?"

Steve sagged, staring at his hand on your cheek. You grinned, because that look always preceded a yes.

"Fine. But he can't return. I'll only do this one time." He raised his voice as he addressed Bucky. "And if Her Highness is put in any danger, you're on your own."

Bucky held up his hands.

"'Course. Wouldn't want her in any danger either, Sir Steven."

Steve grunted, walking over.

"Dressing you as a guard is our best bet. How long will it take to cast off?"

"Ten minutes at most. With an extra set of hands."

"Alright. The guards rotate every quarter hour. There will be one guard on shift, because you're one man and Jones is disgustingly overconfident. If I can lead him away, that ought to give us—"

"I'll do it," you said. "I can distract him."

"Absolutely not, Y/N."

"Why don't you ever let me have any fun?" you whined.

"Because your idea of fun usually ends up in trouble and the whole point of me helping is to avoid exactly that."

"Oh, please. I've been getting away with trouble since I was a child. Have a little faith, Steve."

"Y/N…"

"It'll be like you two are escorting me around town. I'll be at the docks to giggle and flirt with the uniformed officers because I'm a silly princess with no interests besides men."

"Crafty, aren't you?" Bucky grinned.

"Don't encourage her," grumbled Steve.

"Come on," you pushed, rummaging around for shoulder pads. "We're losing daylight, and I'm not allowed out after dusk. Don't worry, Steve. I promise I'll be safe. Now help Bucky with his armor."

It ended up taking longer than you thought it would, what with their squabbles ("hold still, Barnes" — "it's pinching things that shouldn't be pinched!") but eventually, you did make it out. Bucky was in a full suit of armor, helmet down to mask his face. He was a lot more graceful in it than you expected, which you had to give credit for.

Then came the stables.

"Uh," said Bucky, pushing up his helmet. "I didn't know we were riding."

"How else would we get there?" asked Steve, leading your horse, Hyde, out, then his.

"You'll have to share," you said. "It'll look suspicious if we return with an extra horse."

Bucky nodded, then glanced between you. He took a step towards Steve's horse, a sturdy stallion, meant for traveling long distances. The stallion whinnied loudly, rearing up.

"Steve!" you panicked. Steve cursed, hurrying to soothe him. Bucky backed away, looking a little green.

"I... um," you began. "You can take Hyde with me. He's quite gentle. Stallions are sometimes unpredictable and this one prefers Steve anyhow."

Bucky didn't look convinced.

"Right. It's just, I don't ride often, being a pirate and all…"

"Well, you can't very well walk. Knights would never escort the princess on foot. You might be questioned."

Bucky watched as you mounted Hyde. As he approached, Hyde nickered, tossing his head. You hushed him, keeping him steady. Bucky put one firm hand on Hyde's neck. He whinnied louder, mane flying. You frowned, tightening the reins.

"That's odd. He isn't normally skittish."

You clicked your tongue, riding closer to Bucky, who didn’t look too pleased either.

"Horses don't like me much," he confessed when Hyde stomped one hoof. "I really oughta just walk."

Hyde whinnied, snorting, but eventually, he did let Bucky on. He was a gentleman, holding on with only a single hand on your arm. Bucky was warm, almost too much so for the summertime. He smelled like leather and salt, solid and sure behind you. You shared a look with Steve, whose expression was unreadable.

"We should go. If he becomes too much trouble, walk him the rest of the way," grunted Steve.

"He already doesn't like me," said Bucky.

"I was talking to Hyde."

No one bothered you. In your official dress, away from the shroud of your common cloak, you were every bit regal a princess should be. With two knights at your side, most people kept their heads down as you passed.

It was a blessing and a curse. Steve's grudge with your frequent disappearance wasn't unfounded, but you couldn't enjoy true freedom bogged down by palace guards and their pomp.

"Which one's your ship?" asked Steve.

"There, with the wolf flag," replied Bucky.

There was only one guard, like Steve had said. Bucky hopped off, as did Steve. They broke off from the path to go around a barn, to the ship. You continued straight.

"Y/N, no!" hissed Steve. "Y/N—"

"Pardon me," you called loudly, trotting over. "Guard? Oh, guard?"

"Your Highness?" said the guard. "Your Highness, you should not be without an escort."

"Yes," you agreed and dismounted, watching Steve and Bucky slip past out of the corner of your eye. "You're right. But I just wanted to be at the docks. And you're here! So really, I'm not without protection, am I?"

"I suppose not, milady. But you shouldn't be here alone. I am not supposed to leave my post."

"Oh?" you said, leaning in. "Why is that? Did something happen?"

"Well…"

"It must be something highly important if you're on duty," you cooed. "I know my father would trust you with anything."

A cough that sounded more like a laugh came from behind some boxes. You cleared your throat, smiling even wider.

"Well, yes," said the guard, puffing his chest. "The king can trust me."

"Don't you trust me too, Sir…"

"Gouven," he answered.

"Sir Gouven, of course! I've heard of all your noble deeds."

"You have?"

"Why, certainly!"

Steve and Bucky were still preparing the ship. You hummed sweetly, being sure to block his view.

"Of course I have," you reiterated. "How could I not? You were brilliant in the last battle. The way you handled that lion!"

"L-lion? Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you, Your Highness. Though I really must escort you back to the castle. I'll beckon another guard, one moment…"

"Uh," you began, mind racing. "No, that's alright! Truly. I won't tell a soul."

"I am afraid I cannot leave you unaccompanied. It would be against my honor as a guard."

Oh, brother. You rolled your eyes as he turned, following him around.

"Sir Gouven, my escort will arrive shortly, I swear—"

"I cannot take that chance, milady."

He started walking towards the ship. Shit, shit.

"Oh! Oh, I'm feeling quite faint!"

And down you went.

Gouven did not react well. You made a mental note not to rely on him in case of emergency. While he ran around like a headless chicken, trying to decide what to do with you, you opened your eyes.

Bucky and Steve were both frozen in concern. Steve looked ready to leap to your aid. You lifted your head, because really? Did they think you could faint on command like that?

Go, you mouthed, waving your hand, and they both jumped into action. Idiots.

"Gods, gods," Gouven bemoaned. "They're going to lock me in the stockade after this! Stay right there, Your Highness. I'll return!"

You shut your eyes, rolling onto your back. It was a pleasant summer day and the sun felt good on your face. You sneezed, then yawned. Summers were always lovely at home.

"Having fun?"

You opened one eye, adjusting to the shadow cast over you from Steve's frame.

"That was quick."

"He's efficient," Steve admitted. "Bothersome as he is, I'm sure he makes a wonderful pirate."

"Sir Steven, I'm touched."

You grinned at Bucky, who had a coil of rope slung over one shoulder, his pack on the other. You reached out one hand and Steve sighed before gently pulling you up.

"It wasn't a compliment," he grumbled.

"'M choosing to take it as one," chirped Bucky.

He turned and bowed properly, looking up at you through his lashes.

"Princess, I owe you my life. If you ever need anything, well, I'll be in port again shortly. Somewhere."

"That's kind of you. But I'm just glad you're safe, Bucky."

He took your hand and lightly kissed your knuckles. You smiled, unable to help your giggle.

"Speaking of, you ought to get going," interrupted Steve. "Gouven will be back soon."

Slowly, Bucky released your hand, glancing at Steve.

"Fine, fine. Stevie, been a pleasure. Keep up that right par, and don't get distracted."

Bucky winked, saluting, rings glinting in the sunlight. He jogged back to his boat. It took another minute before he was rolling off, sails fluttering.

"I like him," you decided.

"Hmph."

You smirked, nudging Steve's rib.

"You're just upset he bested you in a duel."

"He's full of himself."

"He's charming!"

"Far too reckless."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is Steve Rogers lecturing about being reckless?"

"Yes," he said, straight-faced. "It's a terrible habit, you know."

"Uh-huh."

"Not to mention, he's a disaster with a horse."

"Well, not everyone can be as perfect as you, Steve."

"Please promise me that you will not be helping any more pirates," he said, helping you onto Hyde, then climbing onto the stallion.

"We'll see," you replied, riding ahead of him. "Today was rather thrilling!"

"You're lucky it wasn't Jones here."

"Oh, as if that man has anything beyond weeds inside his head."

"Your Highness!"

You and Steve stopped, halfway to the castle.

"Your Highness! Your High—"

Sir Gouven skidded to a stop, hunched over. He panted, holding a vial of salts. You tilted your head.

"Sir Gouven. Whatever do you have that for?"

"You—you'd fainted, milady! I thought… I thought that…"

"Oh, that! It was hardly a faint. I was merely resting my eyes."

His face was covered in sweat and he himself looked ready to collapse.

"But…but you were unconscious."

"Not particularly. I was terribly tired, you know."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish's. You took pity.

"Still," you continued. "Thank you, Sir Gouven. I will surely tell Father about your dedication to the crown."

"Huh?"

"And look! Sir Steven's here. Isn't that fortuitous?

"Gouven," greeted Steve, nodding. "Hard at work, I see."

"I—but… milady, are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He looked blankly at the vial.

"Are you alright, Sir Gouven?"

"I… think so."

"Good," you said. "Goodbye, then."

Steve chuckled once you were out of earshot. "Poor Gouven. He's a decent knight."

"I'll tell Father to award him a medal of valor. You knights love those, don't you?"

"That's not exactly how it works, Y/N."

"Come now, Steve. We just smuggled a wanted pirate back to his ship. I think I can manage a medal."

You glanced back. The docks were tiny now, the ocean a small strip of blue on the horizon.

****

"Your Highness?" came a voice from outside your chambers. She knocked softly. Your maid, Petunia.

"Yes?" you called back.

"I don't mean to disturb, my lady, but the king desires your presence for dinner."

You sighed, turning over.

"Do I have to?"

"I think it would be best, my lady," was the quiet reply. "You've not dined together in many weeks."

"Because he's been away," you grumbled, dragging yourself out of bed.

"Would you like me to help you dress, my lady?"

"No, thank you, Petunia. I'll be down shortly."

You opted for a simple blue gown, not bothering with accessories. As frustrating as your father could be, he'd never been too strict about attire in the castle. As long as you were clothed, you were decent.

"Ah, Y/N! Please, come in."

You entered the dining hall at your father's beckoning. He was quite pleasant, more than you'd seen him in many months. You took the seat to his left as you usually did. The extra setting across from you didn't escape your notice.

"Father, welcome home. How was your trip?"

"Good, very good. There was much to discuss. And now, I think it's time I include you in the discussions. You are old enough, after all."

"I am," you agreed, perking up. "What sort of discussions?"

"I hope you have not started without me, my king," interrupted a smooth voice.

Lord Pierce leisurely took his seat, meeting your eye immediately. The king's advisor, and your father's right-hand man for many years, Pierce was the one to suggest you be removed from any political meetings.

"My lady, how nice to see you. We've not spoken in a long time."

"No, we have not," you said, waiting until he broke eye contact first. Good.

"I was just about to tell Y/N the news," your father continued, helping himself to a thick slab of roast.

"Oh, splendid. I did say she ought to be in the know, when the dust had settled."

"How thoughtful of you, Lord Pierce," you smiled, gummy and fleeting.

"I may as well get on with it. I have made the decision to rescind our treaty with the Kingdom of Faleron."

Your fork clattered onto your plate. Pierce calmly bit into a honeyed apple.

"What? But you and King Faleron have been allies for nearly two decades."

"It has come to my attention that strange magics have been reared toward our city. He is our closest neighbor, and King Lahan has expressed to me in confidence that he has noticed poxes plaguing his own kingdom. Faleron is the only one among the six kings who is known to be sympathetic to magic users. And I excused it at first, but no more."

"But Father, that makes no sense," you argued. "You and Faleron are friends. You benefit mutually from your alliance. It would be foolish to upset you or any of the other kings."

"Yes, daughter, it is quite foolish. And that is why we must wage war."

"Have you tried discussing it with Faleron?" you asked.

"Of course he has," interjected Pierce. "Your father is a reasonable man, Your Highness. Faleron denied it and insulted your father. The nerve of him, offending a man who's shown nothing but grace and a fair hand."

"He said this to your face, Father?" you balked. King Faleron was a hothead but he'd never been known to lose his temper towards his fellow kings.

"Pierce went on my behalf. Words were exchanged."

"I see."

"Regardless," continued Pierce. "We cannot be seen as weak. With magic spreading, it would be certain doom to retreat now."

"Faleron's men are barbaric," you said. "They'll tear the city apart. Our people don't deserve a war, Father."

"I do not want this war anymore than you do, Y/N, but it's not something we can ignore. We will have the support of neighboring kingdoms. Do not worry."

"I just think it's risky to move so quickly."

"Risky when we have spies?" your father countered.

You frowned. Pierce continued to eat.

"Spies?"

"Surely you saw the extra guards at the docks today," sniffed Pierce. "I hear you were out without an escort, Your Highness."

"Actually, I was accompanied by Sir Steven. But thank you very much for your concern, Lord Pierce, unnecessary as it is."

Pierce's eye twitched.

"Steven is a good man," your father jovially confirmed. "I trust him with my life. But I do not want you alone, Y/N. It's true. We had a dirty pirate escape today. Captain Jones informed me that he was a spy of Faleron's."

Bucky? A spy?

"Oh my," you said, picking at your potatoes. "Will they catch this brute?"

"If he ever returns, you can be sure they will," replied the king. "Jones' men are the best."

"You're right, Father. Especially that one knight, Sir Gouven. He's been very good to me."

"Has he now? Well, I shall keep that in mind."

"I did not know you were familiar with the knights, my lady," said Pierce, chewing on a chicken bone. "Well, except for Sir Steven. You two are rather… close."

"Certainly, I would meet the men who would lay their lives down for this kingdom. It is important to know where people's loyalties lie, don't you think, Lord Pierce?"

"Quite." He stood, tapping his chin with his napkin. "And now, I must retire. If you'll both graciously excuse me. I must plan for my journey to consult King Lahan."

"Of course, Alexander," enthused your father. "I thank you for all your help."

"It has been an honor and pleasure, my king. Thank you for your cooperation."

Pierce nodded at you. You nodded back, waiting until his footsteps disappeared.

"Father, please do not declare war on Faleron. It is a horrible idea. People will die."

"I will not discuss it any further, Y/N. Magic is dangerous, and I cannot let it run free in my kingdom."

"Don't you think it's strange that King Faleron would respond so harshly? You two are practically brothers."

He sighed.

"I wish things were different. He is like a brother to me. But this isn't something I can excuse. Faleron has always been a loose cannon, Y/N. This is best for us and the kingdom."

The king rose, smiling gently.

"Try not to fret over it, my daughter. I know you, and how you worry. Everything will be alright."

You sat, long after he left, staring at the bits of honeyed apple and meat bones.

What if everything wasn't alright?

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x you #stucky reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #royalty au #fantasy au #on wings of fate

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mischiefsemimanaged · 2 years

Text

Steve: When you flirt with me, are you doing it to get on a mission?

Y/n: No

Steve: Then why are you doing it?

Y/n: I'm doing it to flirt with you.

#source: the west wing #incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers #incorrect marvel #steve rogers #captain america #reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #idiots in love

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bossbtch1 · 5 months

Text

Hottest Night of Your Life

Summary : Bucky and Steve joined you for a night out at the club, but things took a dark turn when a stranger spiked your drink. Bucky and Steve were more than willing to "take care" of you.

Pairings : Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes

TW : Smut, NSFW, 18+

Tags : Possessiveness, Jealousy, Aphrodisiac, Slight Manipulation, Fingering, Threesome, Double Penetration, MMF, After Care

Words : 10.9k

A/N : Hey there! Apologies for the irregular updates, life's been quite hectic lately. Nevertheless, I wanted to share something with you for the holiday. I'm not sure if it's up to par, and I might delete it later, but for now, I hope you enjoy it!

My Masterlist

As you finished getting ready for the night out, you slipped into a daringly short dress with the clear intention of making a statement to get laid. The plan for the evening was simple – hit the club, have a good time, and maybe find some company for the night. Initially, Nat and Wanda were supposed to be your trusty wing-women, but they had mysteriously bailed on you, leaving you to navigate the scene solo.

Despite the slight annoyance at their unexpected absence, you couldn't stay mad, knowing the two had their own thing going on. A knowing smile played on your lips, realizing that you might be the sole occupant of the Avengers compound spending the night alone. It wasn't that you were one to sleep around, but the chance was too tempting to pass up, especially with the only man who held your interest seemingly oblivious to the depth of your feelings, at least not to the degree that he wanted to do anything about it.

With a self-assured mutter, you declared, "Alright, I’m ready to get laid." as you slipped into your high heels and grabbed your purse, ready to take on the night.

As you swung open the door, you were met with the unexpected sight of Steve and Bucky standing there. Their heads turned toward you in unison, jaws dropping, and their eyes shamelessly traced the contours of your figure, creating a heat that resonated through the room even before they touched you.

"Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I didn't see you there," you greeted them, ensuring your voice carried enough volume for them to hear. Their expressions shifted from confusion to subtle appreciation as they took in your well-put-together appearance. Tonight, you looked not just good but exceptionally gorgeous.

As you casually inquired, "I'm just about to go. Is there anything you need from me?" you maintained a calm tone, masking the arousal building within you as their intense gazes lingered on your form.

Steve, attempting to regain composure, stammered, "I, uh..." struggling to meet your eyes.

Bucky, captivated by the exposure of your legs, found himself at a loss for words, his mouth subtly watering. Silence lingered, a charged atmosphere thickening between the three of you.

Not willing to prolong the moment, you broke the silence, "Okay, bye. I'll see you later," and started walking toward the exit. Their apparent speechlessness didn't deter your determination to have a good time.

They didn’t say anything and you didn’t want to wait for them any longer, "Okay, bye. I’ll see you later," You mumbled as you began walking towards the exit, it seemed like the two didn't have anything else to say and you weren't in the mood to wait any longer, you were ready to have fun.

Before you could reach the door, Bucky's voice halted you with a single word, "Wait."

You stopped and turned around, concealing the effect their scrutiny had on you, hoping they didn't notice how wet you were through your panties, you didn't need anyone to know that your pussy was begging for attention, you just hoped that nobody could smell you. "Yeah?" you inquired, awaiting whatever he had to say, uncertainty hanging in the air.

"Uh," Steve and Bucky both stumbled, their thoughts racing in a direction they deemed inappropriate for you to discern. The air thickened with unspoken desires and awkward tension.

Concerned by their peculiar behavior, you raised an eyebrow and questioned, "Do I have something on my face?" Your gaze moved between the two men, sensing their discomfort and odd demeanor.

"No, not at all. It's just... Do you have plans?" Steve stuttered, casting a lingering glance over you. He couldn't help but imagine you in those heels, a tantalizing image that sent shivers down his spine. He felt his cock twitch and he was having a hard time not picturing you wearing those while he fucked you. "Where are you going?"

With a shrug, you replied, "Well, the girls bailed on me, so I'm going alone for some clubbing."

You couldn't help but notice their uneasy state. "Are you guys okay?"

"Fine," they both chimed simultaneously, their synchronized response only adding to the peculiarity of the situation.

Smiling softly, you turned to continue walking, bidding, "Okay then, well, bye."

"Hold on!" they exclaimed in unison, bringing you to a stop.

Turning back with a furrowed brow, you asked, "Yeah?"

"Would you mind if we came with you?" Steve questioned, his eyes devouring your form. He wanted to etch every detail of you into his memory, unwilling to miss out on any part of the captivating picture you painted.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You? Why?"

Bucky, his hands twitching with a desire he couldn't hide, chimed in, "You can't go out alone, it's not safe." The urge to touch you was evident in his restless movements, a silent plea for permission.

"I think I'll be fine, it's just clubbing," You shrugged, you weren't in the mood for babysitters, especially when all you wanted was a carefree night with drinks and hopefully a dick. “I can take care of myself.”

"It's not a good idea, we're coming with you," Bucky said, the two had already made up their minds.

"I don't know, guys..." Your hesitation lingered in the air as a tinge of worry crept into your voice. You were cautious, fearing they might unwittingly sabotage your chances of getting laid. Trying to dissuade them, you crafted excuses with a playful touch, "You guys don't really seem like the clubbing type. It's not exactly a hotspot for old people."

Steve, slightly offended, retorted, "Hey, we're not that old."

A playful chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you both are pushing 100 years old." Your attempt at humor fell a bit flat as you sensed their discomfort. The attempt at humor hung awkwardly in the air as you noticed their discomfort.

Your smile faded, and you cleared your throat, "Sorry, it's just that a lot of the music is newer, and you might not be familiar with the songs," you apologized, subtly appealing to their sensibilities in the hopes of swaying their decision.

"We can dance to any song, no matter the year, we'll fit right in," Bucky assured you, a trace of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Fine, but I don't want to hear any complaints," you agreed, not seeing the harm in taking the two along. You just hoped it wouldn't end up being awkward. "Now let's go," you urged, signalling them to follow as you turned back around.

"Wait, you're going in that?" Bucky questioned, pointing at your outfit.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You crossed your arms, glaring at the man, "If I recall, I don't believe either of you have a right to tell me what I can and can't wear."

"Yeah, I'm with her, you can't tell her how to dress, if she wants to go clubbing in an outfit that shows off her curves, then that's her business." Steve defended you.

"Thank you, Steve," You smiled at the man before turning to Bucky, "I'm waiting, I don't think it should take this long for you to come up with a response."

"Nothing is wrong with the dress, it's just… You're going to attract a lot of attention," Bucky muttered, he didn't want a bunch of guys staring at you, he didn't want anyone laying a hand on you.

"I'm sure that's the point," you sighed, feeling impatient as you grabbed their hands and pulled them towards the door. You weren't in the mood for arguments, you just wanted to have a good time. "Can we please just go now?"

"Why do you want attention?" Steve asked, letting you pull him along, not that he needed any persuasion to follow you.

"Because," You sighed, rolling your eyes, you were not about to admit the real reason to the two super soldiers, you would rather die. "I just want a fun night out, now let's go, please."

Deciding not to press further, Steve and Bucky mumbled in agreement, choosing not to upset you and risk changing your mind. They followed after you, their eyes inadvertently drawn to the way your hips swayed as you walked—a sight that proved quite hypnotic.

You made your way out of the building and down the streets, it wasn't that far of a walk to the club you were going to, which was great since you weren't sure if the two super soldiers could fit into a taxi with you.

After a couple minutes of walking, the three of you finally made it to the club, the bouncer let the three of you in right away when he realized who the three of you were. Inside, you found a spot at the bar and motioned for the two men to sit on either side of you. They complied willingly, both instinctively warding off anyone attempting to claim a seat next to you.

However, Steve and Bucky looked conspicuously out of place, clearly unimpressed by the pounding beats and unfamiliar tunes that resonated in the club. Their discomfort was palpable, and they appeared more attuned to jazz or big band music.

Internally amused, you chuckled at their reactions, witnessing the awkwardness that had already garnered attention from the ladies. All eyes were on them, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, secretly yearning for the kind of attention they effortlessly attracted.

"Hey, can I get a martini and three shots of vodka, please?" you yelled, catching the bartender's attention. "Oh, and a beer for each of them."

"Sure," he replied, swiftly working on the drinks and placing them in front of the three of you moments later.

You wasted no time, grabbing your drink and downing it. "So, what's the plan for tonight?" Bucky asked as he and Steve sipped their beers.

"Well, I'm gonna get wasted, that's what," you replied, signaling the bartender for another drink. "And then I’m probably gonna dance." The night was young, and your intentions were clear – a mix of intoxication and uninhibited dancing awaited as you sought to make the most of the evening.

"That's a lot of things, are you sure you can do all of that?" Steve inquired, his eyes once again appraising you.

"Is there a problem with that?" you asked, taking a leisurely sip of the fresh martini the bartender handed you.

"Not at all, we just want you to have fun," Bucky reassured, his gaze focused on you.

"Thanks," you smiled, raising your shot glass for another round.

"No problem, sweetheart," Steve grinned, his fondness evident.

You hummed as you downed the second martini. "You know, I'm sure the two of you can get lucky tonight. There are tons of horny girls already drooling over you. I mean, you guys are super attractive."

"Oh, so you think we're attractive," Bucky grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What?" You stuttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized the unexpected admission had slipped out.

"We heard you," Steve chimed in, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

"No, I didn't say anything," You replied, trying to cover up the fact that you admitted that the two were attractive, "You must be hearing things, I didn't say anything. Anyway, I-I’m gonna go dancing now."

No, I didn't say anything," you replied quickly, attempting to cover up the unexpected truth. "You must be hearing things. I didn't say anything. Anyway, I-I’m gonna go dancing now."

Ignoring the protests from both Steve and Bucky, you gracefully slid off the stool and made your way towards the dance floor. The pulsating beats grew louder, drowning out the lingering echoes of the conversation at the bar. As the rhythm took hold, you let the music guide your movements, relishing in the freedom of expression. The neon lights of the club flickered, casting a vibrant glow over the bustling dance floor.

Bucky and Steve couldn't tear their eyes away, captivated by your magnetic presence. Your hips swayed with the music, the ambient glow revealing the delicate sheen of sweat forming on your skin. As the attention from onlookers intensified, it became evident that you were blissfully unaware, each drink ordered contributing to the intoxicating haze that enveloped you.

"I don't like this," Steve growled, his gaze narrowing as he observed a guy dancing too closely behind you, hands brazenly on your hips.

"Me neither," Bucky muttered, glaring at the man who had his hands on you, his blood was boiling and his grip tightened around the glass, threatening to break it.

"Let's go over there, make sure he doesn't do anything," Steve suggested, a protective edge coloring his voice.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, downing the remnants of his drink in one fluid motion.

They both made their way over to the dance floor, bringing them closer to where you laughed and letting the guy touch you. Bucky tapped the man on the shoulder, a fierce glare directed at him. "Can I help you?" the guy challenged, met with the unyielding resolve of the two super soldiers.

"Yeah, get your hands off her," Bucky warned, his voice a low growl that conveyed both authority and a simmering threat.

You frowned at their interruption, momentarily taken aback as you relished your time with the guy. "Or what?" the guy scoffed, clearly unimpressed and unfazed by the two super soldiers.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, irritation evident in your voice. From your perspective, the guy was doing just fine.

"We're leaving," Steve declared, wrapping his hand firmly around your arm.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Fuck off," you snarled, attempting to yank your arm from Steve's grip.

The guy, undeterred, maintained his hold on your hips, his curiosity piqued. "You know them?" he asked, eyes shifting between you, Steve, and Bucky.

"Yeah," you replied, uncertain about the stranger's intentions. "They’re just a friend. Let's go back to dancing."

"I'm not fucking around, get your hands off her or I will make sure that you won't be able to hold anyone again," Bucky threatened.

"Are you serious?" The guy chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening in defiance.

"You have no idea who we are. If I were you, I'd release her and walk away," Steve interjected, a stern warning in his tone. He had no intention of letting the situation escalate into a public altercation.

"Yeah, since she's so eager to go with you guys," he retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words as he rolled his eyes dismissively.

"Steve, Bucky, I'm warning you, leave us alone!" you glared at them, frustration evident in your voice. Turning back to the guy, you pleaded, "Let's just ignore them," hoping to salvage the evening, you were getting horny and wanted him to fuck you.

"No. We're leaving," Steve ordered, he was tired of playing nice.

As Steve attempted to pull you away, the stranger stood firm, refusing to release his grip. "What the fuck is your problem?" The man growled. “Get a hint, asshole!”

"My problem is that you're touching her," Bucky declared, frustration boiling over as he seized the guy by the throat, forcefully pressing him against the wall. He was done being, he was going to punch him in the face.

"Bucky!" you yelled, shocked by his sudden aggression.

"Are you just going to stand there?" you questioned Steve, incredulous at his apparent nonchalance.

He merely shrugged in response, his demeanor nonchalant. "He should've left," Steve remarked casually, strolling over to observe the unfolding scene as Bucky maintained his grip on the man's throat.

"Let go," you pleaded, attempting to pry Bucky off the man. Despite your efforts, it became apparent that Bucky didn't register your words over the haze of his anger. Desperation crept into your voice, "Let him go, now! Or I won’t ever talk to you both again."

As you issued the ultimatum, Bucky turned his head toward you and dropped the man, watching as he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. He glared up at Bucky. "You're a psycho!" he yelled before hastily running off. "There are plenty of women here anyway. You’re not worth it."

“Wait, don’t go! Um...,” you hesitated, realizing you forgot to ask his name. “Ugh, whatever. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around to face Bucky. "What the hell was that?" you demanded, frustration and anger evident as you punctuated your question with a punch to Bucky's chest.

"Ow," Bucky flinched.

"Don't act like that hurt, I didn't hit you that hard," you retorted with an eye roll. Pissed off and no longer in the mood, you added, "Seriously, why the hell did you do that?"

"He had it coming. He was touching you," Steve pointed out, his tone defensive. "We couldn't stand by and watch."

"Yeah, and what's wrong with that?" you challenged, genuinely perplexed by their actions. You folded your arms, awaiting an explanation.

"Are you seriously asking us that?" Bucky questioned, his shock evident as he rubbed the spot where you had punched him.

"Yes, I don't understand what's so wrong with you guys. You don't have the right to tell me who I can and can't sleep with," you declared, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The club's music throbbed in the background, adding a surreal intensity to the confrontation.

"You want to sleep with him? Really?" Bucky asked, his tone was condescending.

"And what if I do, why does it matter?" You countered, getting more and more irritated.

"You can't be serious," Bucky scoffed.

"It's none of your business who I sleep with," You glared at him. "I can't believe this. That was my chance! And you guys completely ruin it."

"What chance? You should be grateful, that guy is an asshole," Bucky mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“That wasn’t your call! And you know what, don't talk to me," you snapped, frustration etched across your face. "I'm going home, I can't deal with this shit."

"No, we're not done talking," Steve protested, attempting to grab your wrist.

"Let go," you yanked your arm away, irritation fueling your movements. "I'm going home."

You spun around and marched towards the exit, not bothering to wait for the two. Then as you walked, your head suddenly felt dizzy, you stopped and held your head, everything was spinning and the sounds were muffled. "Fucking hell," You groaned.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, concerned, as he came up to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"Don't touch me," you hissed, slapping his hand away. Anger boiled up inside you, but then your head started to feel light, and you stumbled, your vision becoming fuzzy.

You didn’t understand why your head suddenly felt dizzy, you hadn’t consumed that much alcohol. You knew your limits, and this amount shouldn't have made you feel drunk.

"You don’t look fine sweetheart, how many drinks did you have?" Steve asked, placing his hand on the small of your back. You were too weak to push him away so you just ignored him.

"I dunno," You mumbled, trying to focus on them. “It shouldn’t make me this drunk…”

“Did you take any drinks from that guy?” Bucky asked and you thought for a moment, you didn't, but maybe, you couldn't remember. You didn't know what happened after the last couple drinks, everything was blurry.

"Maybe, I don't know," You replied.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He was about to go inside again. But Steve stopped him. “Buck, later. Now we have something else to worry about. We should make sure everything is okay." Bucky was reluctant but listened to Steve, they would get him later.

"We'll take you home, sweetheart don't worry," Steve spoke, rubbing your back.

"It's okay, I can manage myself." You pulled yourself away from his touch and turned away, wanting to leave. You wanted to be alone and rest, not be near the two super soldiers.

But you took a step and your body collapsed, if it weren't for the super soldier, you would've hit the floor. "See, you can't," Steve stated, holding you up by your waist.

"But I don't want your help," you protested weakly, your stubbornness clinging to you even in your compromised state.

Steve sighed, exchanging a worried glance with Bucky. "We can argue about this later. Right now, let us help you, we'll take you to my place and then we can figure out what's wrong, okay?" He suggested.

"Fine," You reluctantly agreed, leaning into his hold.

"Come on Buck."

Bucky hailed a cab since walking home in your current state was out of the question. As you settled into the backseat, a sudden surge of heat engulfed you, making the ride feel more suffocating than the dimly lit club you'd just left. You fanned yourself, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, and the dress sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

"Fuck, why is it so hot in here?" you complained, looking at Steve and Bucky, who appeared unfazed by the sudden rise in temperature. “Aren't you guys feeling hot?”

Steve had already discarded his jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his casually confident demeanor. On the other hand, Bucky remained fully dressed. The two exchanged knowing looks before Steve spoke up, "Doll, you were roofied."

"What?" Your voice came out soft, a mix of confusion and disbelief. But soon, anger surged within you, intensifying the heat in your head, making you feel nauseous. "Ugh, why can't I fucking catch a break?"

"You're okay sweetheart," Steve assured you, "Buck and I will help you, we won't let anything happen to you."

"Okay," You gave in, resting your head against the seat. You were tired, you just wanted to go to bed. You felt Steve wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, you were too weak to care.

"Okay," you relented, leaning your head against the seat. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you; all you wanted was to crawl into bed. Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You nestled your head on his shoulder, too drained to resist.

Upon reaching home, you found yourself being gently guided to the bedroom. "Here, doll," Steve said, placing you on the bed and handing you a water bottle. "Drink some."

"I don't want it," you grumbled, pushing it away.

"Drink it, you'll need it."

"Fine." You took a few sips, but the water offered little relief. Instead, the heat intensified, your stomach now feeling uneasy, akin to a fluttering of butterflies. Confused and uncomfortable, you couldn't pinpoint the cause, especially since the water should have calmed the fire.

You attempted to take off your dress, but weakness overwhelmed you. Sensing your struggle, Steve sat beside you and gently assisted in removing the dress. "We have to take your clothes off, okay? It'll help," Steve informed you.

"I'll just do it myself," you mumbled, determined to exert independence. Pushing yourself up, you tried to stand, but the drugs had weakened you considerably, causing you to sway dangerously. Fortunately, Bucky acted swiftly, grabbing your arm just in time.

"I got you, doll. Just let us help you, okay?"

"Okay," You gave up.

Bucky gently assisted you in sitting up on the bed and then proceeded to remove your heels. Steve then came in and pulled down the zipper, allowing your dress to slide off your shoulders. Beneath, you wore a simple laced bra and underwear set.

Bucky and Steve tried not to stare too much, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. They were just helping a friend out. "Okay, do you need anything else?" Steve asked.

Despite still feeling hot, weird, and tired, the comfy bed and cool air conditioner offered a tempting sanctuary. "Stay," you requested, lacking the energy for further explanation.

"You want us to stay here?" Steve sought clarification.

"Yes," you affirmed, your fatigue evident in your response.

"We'll stay here," Bucky reassured you.

You smiled and closed your eyes. The room was spinning and your head felt dizzy. You felt so weak and tired, you could just fall asleep right here. But then a sudden burst of energy rushed through your veins, you were no longer tired, and your body was heating up.

"Fuck," You moaned, clutching the sheets. "Steve...Buck..."

"We're here," Bucky sat beside you, while Steve was in front.

You opened your eyes, feeling dazed and hazy. "I feel weird," You mumbled.

"How, sweetheart? Does it hurt?"

"My body is hot, my stomach feels weird," You rubbed your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension between your legs. "Fuck, I feel weird."

"Shit, she's horny," Bucky realized.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Doll, the drug is supposed to make people horny, basically it's an aphrodisiac that the dude slipped into your drink," Steve explained.

"Then what do we do now? Fuck... I...feel….," You panted, your breathing became heavier.

You were already wet, your panties damp. You were still wearing the underwear so it was fine, not a lot of discomfort yet but you kept rubbing your thighs to get some friction.

Steve then opened your legs and exposing your heat. Steve could see how soaked your panties were, the wetness covering the area. "Steve what are you doing?" You asked, watching him as he spread your legs.

"We have to get the drugs out of your system," Steve replied, his face so close to your core.

"What?" You couldn't believe what Steve was doing. "But how does that work?" You asked as Steve kept your thighs open and looked at your clothed heat.

"I’m going to try and suck out the drug," Steve said as if it was nothing.

"What?! Steve no, you don't have to do that," You blushed and shook your head at him, but then you felt his hands gripped your inner thighs tightly.

"No, no, no," Steve shook his head and then he started to kiss your thighs making you moan. "Trust me, Y/N, I want to," He continued, sucking the sensitive skin making you moan again.

"Fuck, Steve," You moaned as you felt his lips kissing your thighs. Steve kept kissing and licking, marking your thighs with his lips.

"Just let us help you, doll." Bucky said as he watched you getting turned on by Steve.

"Okay, okay," You gave up, feeling the heat in your stomach, wanting release.

Steve was so close to your cunt, you could feel his warm breath. You were squirming from the stimulation but Steve kept a good grip on your thighs, not letting you move too much.

"Fuck," You cursed, you could feel his teeth and his lips on your thighs, the pain was pleasurable, a nice contrast to the teasing.

Steve kept teasing, kissing everywhere but where you want him the most. You were getting frustrated and you were about to tell him when he licked a stripe across your clothed heat, the damp lace barely covering anything.

You groaned and bucked your hips but Steve kept you still, his big hands gripping your thighs tightly. "Steve please, I need more," You begged him, you wanted to feel his mouth directly on your cunt, not your underwear.

"I'll give you what you need, don't worry," Steve said as he started to rub his thumb on your clit.

You gasped as he touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks throughout your body. Steve's touch felt amazing and you wanted more, but the lace was in the way. Steve then hooked his fingers on the lace, pulling the underwear off. You were now bare for them to see. Bucky watched as Steve kept touching you, making you a mess.

Steve then put your legs on his shoulders and licked your cunt. He didn't waste any time, he ate you out like he's been starving. Your eyes were shut, mouth agape as Steve worked his magic.

Steve was really good, knowing where to lick and touch. He kept eating you out, his tongue circling around your clit. Your hand went to his hair and you tugged his hair, making him moan, sending vibrations to your cunt.

"Oh god, Steve!" You screamed his name.

"She sounds so pretty, Stevie. Can't wait to have her screaming our names later," Bucky said as he moved behind you, making you sit up so you were leaning against his chest.

Steve didn't reply, he just continued to eat you out. He could feel his cock hardening at the thought of you cumming and screaming his name.

Bucky's hands went to your breasts, groping them, massaging them, and removed your bra. "Your tits are perfect, Y/N," Bucky whispered into your ear as he played with your nipples.

"Oh fuck," You moaned and arched your back as Steve inserted a finger into your tight pussy.

Bucky watched Steve, his friend's face was buried between your thighs, eating you out, making you feel so good. Steve inserted another finger, fucking you with his long digits, hitting all the right places. You were moaning loudly, your orgasm was building, you could feel the knot tightening, but you couldn't cum. The drugs were making it hard for you to cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed as you held Bucky's hands and squeezed his flesh arm tightly.

"What's wrong, doll?" Bucky asked as he stopped playing with your breasts and held you instead.

"I can't cum, I need more," You told him. "Please, please, Steve," You begged him, you hoped that they could give you more, help you reach your climax. He wanted you to cum, so he could hear you scream his name again. He wanted to taste you. So, he put two fingers inside you and moved them while his mouth was focused on your clit.

Steve increased the speed, fucking you harder and faster, sucking on your clit while Bucky's hands roamed your body. The pleasure was overwhelming, you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm so close," You mumbled, feeling the tension building in your stomach.

"Then cum," Bucky growled as he pinched your nipple.

"Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my tongue," Steve said, looking at you, his blue eyes darker than usual.

And that's what did it. You came, screaming both Steve and Bucky's name, tugging Steve’s blonde locks, your body trembling from the intense pleasure. Steve pulled away with a string of your slick connected to his lips, his chin was soaked from your wetness. He looked up at you and smirked.

"We'll give you a minute to calm down and then we'll continue," Steve said as he watched you catch your breath.

"Continue? What do you mean?" You asked, confused. You didn't think they were going to do anything else, this was enough. After all, Steve said the drug would be gone after he sucked it out.

"The drug's not gone yet," Bucky stated as he gripped your chin and turned your head to him. "We thought by sucking you was enough, but we need to make sure that we got all of it," He continued as he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you hungrily.

Steve then went to kiss your neck, licking the spots where Bucky bit and sucked earlier. "Looks like I didn't do good enough job earlier." Steve whispered as he kissed your neck.

Bucky hands travelled to your cunt, rubbing your clit. "I don't know if we have to keep going or not," He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned as you leaned back to Bucky, his chest pressed against your back.

"Bucky," You whimpered.

"What do you say, Steve?" Bucky asked his best friend.

"I don't think we've done a good enough job, she's not begging us," Steve said as he pulled away. "I think she doesn't want us, Buck."

"Really, doll?" Bucky replied as he rubbed your clit in slow circles teasingly. You couldn't help but to arched up into his hand, whining as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. Bucky chuckled as he pulled his hand away, making you whimper. "Looks like Steve might be right, what should we do?"

"I don't know, Buck." Steve sighed, stroking himself slowly. "It's a shame, really. If she begged we'd give her everything she wants. I mean, she's just sitting there, wanting us so bad," Steve taunted while he was kissing all over your body, making you whimper again.

You could feel their cocks hardening against your ass and your thigh. They wanted you, and you wanted them. "I want you, please," You begged. "I need more."

"More of what?" Steve asked as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it," He demanded as he removed his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock.

"More of your fingers, more of your mouth, your cocks, I don't care. I just need you," You cried, feeling desperate for release. "I want your cocks in me, I want to ride both of you. Please, just fuck me, please," You begged, you couldn't take the teasing anymore.

"There, was that so hard?" Bucky teased as he stood up and removed his clothes.

Both Steve and Bucky were naked, and they looked even more gorgeous. Bucky had a metal arm and a scarred shoulder, but he was handsome, and he was ripped. Steve had a similar look to Bucky, only his arms weren't scarred, they were smooth. His muscles were huge and you wanted to run your fingers all over them.

"Fuck, you two are so sexy," You commented, looking at them up and down. You didn't know if it were the drug or the lust that was talking, but you couldn't find a better description for them.

"Look who's talking," Steve smirked. "Now, are you ready?" He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist, supporting you.

"Yeah, I'm ready," You replied.

Steve picked you up, carrying you bridal style, and walked to the bed, laying you down carefully. Steve climbed on top of you and Bucky joined the two of you on the bed.

"Fuck, doll. You look so beautiful, laid down like this," Steve whispered as he stroked your face. You blushed as you looked away. "Look at me, baby," He said, turning your head back.

Your heart was pounding, you couldn't believe you were actually doing this. Steve started sucking your neck, making you moan as his beard tickled you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, moaning.

"I wanna fuck her," Steve said, looking at Bucky, who was stroking his cock.

"Go ahead," Bucky said to Steve. “Why don’t you spread your legs for us, doll? Be a good girl and do as we say,"

You laid down on the bed and spread your legs, exposing your wet cunt. You could see Steve and Bucky's eyes darken with lust. They were both naked now, their muscular bodies were perfect and they were huge, especially their cocks.

Steve spread your legs, pushing himself inside of you, groaning. You gasped as you felt him filling you, moaning as he started moving. Steve was huge, and he felt so good, stretching you out. You couldn't help but to arch up to him, feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix.

"You're so tight, doll," Steve groaned as he fucked you faster.

Bucky moved, climbing on the bed next to the two of you, positioning himself near your face. "Open up," He said. You opened your mouth, allowing Bucky to slide his cock inside. You moaned as he began to thrust into your mouth.

Steve grabbed your legs, placing them on his shoulders as he fucked you, his balls hitting your ass with every thrust. "Mmphhh" You moaned, arching up.

"Shit," Bucky groaned, moving his hips, thrusting his cock into your mouth. You ran a hand over his thigh, moving down, touching his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Fuck, Stevie. Her mouth feels so fucking good, it's so hot and wet," He moaned as you bobbed your head, moving up and down his cock, moaning.

Steve growled and began fucking you faster, hitting deeper. You arched up, grabbing the sheets. "Oh, fuck!" You gasped, feeling your orgasm coming.

"Her pussy feels so fucking good Buck" Steve groaned, his hands were on your hips, gripping tightly.

"I can't wait to fuck her next," Bucky groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting in and out of your mouth.

"You like this huh sweetheart?” Steve moaned, “You are squeezing my cock, sweetheart Fuck,"

"Fuck, I'm so close," Bucky said, moving his hips, fucking your mouth harder. "Fuck, baby, suck my cock, that's it. Such a good girl," He praised, making you moan.

You couldn't speak, your moans were muffled by Bucky's cock. You were moaning, feeling Steve's cock hitting your g-spot, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You closed your eyes, letting the sensations overtake you.

"I'm gonna come," You managed to gasp, feeling yourself starting to tense up. You were close, you could feel your orgasm building up, your pussy was pulsing, and your nipples were hardening. You wanted to scream, but Bucky's cock was in your mouth, stopping you from doing so.

"Shit, fuck, fuck, doll, I'm coming, fuck," Steve growled, his thrusts becoming sloppier, losing his rhythm. He grabbed your hips, holding them tightly.

"Me too," Bucky gasped, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pushing his cock deeper in your mouth. Bucky and Steve thrust were getting sloppy. You were choking and drooling around his cock. You could taste the salty pre-cum and you loved it.

They both came at the same time, you were right behind them, coming, clenching around Steve's cock. "Fuck," Steve growled, coming, spurting his load inside of you, his cum spilling out. "That's a good girl," Steve praised as he pushed you deeper.

Bucky came with a loud groan, his cum filling your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, but some of it spilled down your chin. He pulled out, stroking himself, making sure to get every drop out.

"Fucking hell, doll. You're so good at that," Bucky moaned.

"Shit, baby," Steve panted.

You were laying down, feeling completely blissed out. Your whole body was tingling, and you were panting. You never came that hard in your life, maybe the drug enhance the experience? Or was it the fact that you were being doted on by two incredibly handsome, and kind men? Either way, it was an amazing experience, and you wouldn't change a thing.

You were still horny even though you just came. Maybe you could convince them to go again? You were about to say something when you felt a hand on your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw Bucky smiling down at you.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Mhm, more than alright," you smiled back. You saw both of them got hard again, your eyes widened, "How can you get hard so fast?" Guys usually needed time to recover after coming right? Or did they not come that hard? You thought they did.

"It's the serum," Steve explained. "We can get hard, stay hard, and last longer than most men."

"You're not done yet, doll," Bucky whispered. "We still have a lot of fun ahead of us."

"We're not stopping until you can't walk straight," Bucky added. "You're going to take us both. At the same time."

Your whole body was still tingling, and you felt a warmth spreading through your belly. You were already aroused, but hearing him say that, you felt even more aroused. You let out a small moan, and you blushed, covering your face.

"Don't hide, doll," Steve coaxed, moving your hands away, "We want to see your beautiful face."

"Yeah, we want to see your pretty face," Bucky agreed, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Come on, doll, don't hide," Steve coaxed again, pulling your hands away.

"Okay," you nodded, moving your hands. You blushed, your cheeks turning red. You looked down, feeling shy. You weren't used to the praises. It was a new thing for you, a nice thing. But it still made you feel a little shy.

"That's it. Don't be embarrassed," he said. "You're perfect, you hear me? Perfect. You took our cocks like a good girl."

"Yeah, doll. You're fucking perfect," Bucky added.

"Let's get you ready for round 2, huh?" he asked, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

You nodded again, and Steve leaned in, kissing you. He was slow and gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth. He kissed you deeply, passionately. You were breathing heavily, your heart racing. You were so turned on, it was unreal.

Bucky watched with a hungry expression, his eyes roaming your naked body. "I'm so fucking lucky," he muttered under his breath. He moved between your legs, his hands moving over your thighs, and then to your pussy. He stroked your pussy, his fingers teasing you. "I can’t fucking wait to fuck this sweet pussy.”

After you and Steve broke the kiss, Bucky then pulled you into straddling his lap, his cock was resting against your stomach. He was stroking your back, kissing your neck. He was being gentle, his movements slow and deliberate. You were grinding on his lap, his cock pressing into you. You were aching for more, "Steve, I want her to ride me, you can prep her, and then join us, okay?"

"Sure." Steve got up to grab the lube and moved behind you. "I need you to lean forward, baby doll." You followed his instruction and leaned forward, bracing yourself against Bucky's shoulder.

You looked over your shoulder to see him squeezed some lube on his fingers. Then he leaned forward and kissed you. You could feel the coolness of the lube touching your ass as he gently worked one finger into your tight ass. You hissed at the intrusion. "It's okay, baby, just relax." Bucky said. He ran his hands up and down your back.

You nodded, letting out a breath. Steve continued his slow movements, "There you go, baby. Taking me so good." You began to feel comfortable with his finger in your ass, it hurt from his finger you worried about taking his cock.

But then it started to feel good with Bucky now helping you to relax by sucking and licking your breast, his other hand playing with your clit. You moaned at the sensation of Steve's fingers, and the feeling of Bucky playing with your nipples. You were grinding down onto Bucky’s hardness, desperate for friction. You were sure he could feel how soaked you were on his cock.

"You think you're ready for another?" Steve asked, looking down at you. You nodded. "Use your words, baby doll."

"Yes, sir," you replied.

He then removed his finger, squeezing some more lube and pushing another one inside of you. "Ahh," you let out.

"You're okay, doll. You're doing so well. Such a good girl." Bucky praised.

The feeling of Steve's fingers, along with Bucky's praise sent a new sensation through you. It wasn't necessarily arousal, but it was something similar.

"You're doing so good, baby. Take my fingers so well," Steve said.

"Please," you begged, "I want more." You looked at Bucky with pleading eyes. "Want you inside of me."

You saw Bucky's jaw clench and eyes darkened, "Fuck doll, you can't just say that." Bucky growled, "I can't wait any longer, I need to be in you now," Bucky was holding his cock, and positioning it at your entrance.

He slammed you down. You took a breath as his cock slowly stretched you. The wetness from your previous orgasms making it easy for him to slide in. You whimpered as he moved. Bucky's eyes never left yours.

Steve was behind you, whispering encouragement into your ear. "Such a good girl. You look so pretty taking Bucky's cock."

Bucky slowly picked up his pace, thrusting harder into you. "Fuck doll, why didn't we do this sooner?" He groaned, moving his hips upward, pounding into you. You were a moaning mess, you felt as if you were going to burst. The pleasure was building up inside of you.

Your mind went blank, and all you could think about was how good it felt. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning. "Oh yeah, just like that. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, doll," Bucky said. You could feel him hit your g-spot over and over, each time it got more intense. You wrapped your hand on Bucky's shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh.

Steve pushed two fingers inside you and curled them, finding the spot that drove you crazy, your walls clenched around his fingers. You started riding Bucky's cock, grinding your hips on his hard member as Steve was scissoring you, trying to stretch you out. When he had worked a third finger in, he started thrusting them in and out. "Taking both of us will take some work. You're doing so good for us now, sweetheart."

Bucky kept his eyes on yours, making sure you were okay. After a few moments, they began working together faster with their combined rhythm while fucking harder from both ends.

Soon, you were rocking back and forth between them, moaning their names.

"Such a good girl," Steve praised.

"So fucking hot," Bucky groaned.

"Please," you begged. Steve moved his other hand and pinched your nipples while he turned your head around to taste your mouth. Your whole body tingled and the sensations were so overwhelming, you could feel yourself getting close. You rocked your hips faster, bouncing up and down on his length. You were so lost in the pleasure, that you didn't realize when Steve started to stretch you with two fingers.

You could feel your second orgasm building, and it was going to be bigger. "Fuck, Bucky! I'm so close, oh fuck, right there!" You moaned, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. You moaned. You felt Steve's other hand reach around and start rubbing your clit.

Your whole body was on fire, and you felt like you were going to explode. Steve kept pumping his fingers in and out of your ass while rubbing your clit. While Bucky thrusting inside you faster and rougher.

"Cum for us, Y/N." Bucky ordered. "Let us hear you scream our names."

Your orgasm tore through you. Your body shook violently as you screamed their names. "Fuck, Bucky! Steve!" It was so strong that you couldn't even hear yourself screaming his name.

You were completely limp, lying against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. "That's it, baby doll. So good. Taking us both so good." Bucky praised. He placed a kiss on your forehead, his breathing ragged.

You felt Steve's fingers slow down and his thrusts became shallower. Steve was still fucking into you, trying to prolong your orgasm. He pulled his fingers from your ass and trailed kisses around your back. “Good job, sweetheart. We are so proud of you.”

Bucky was still inside you but he stilled his hips, allowing you to catch your breath. "How do you feel, doll?" Bucky asked.

"Amazing," you breathed out.

Steve kissed your shoulder blade, "You did so good, baby. I'm proud of you," he said. "Are you ready to take us both, doll? You think you can do it?" Steve asked.

You felt like your eyes were going to pop out of your head. The two most gorgeous men on the planet had you trapped between them and they were making a plan to fuck you into oblivion. It was a dream, right?

You nodded. You were ready. "Yeah. I'm ready. I can handle it."

Steve chuckled. "That's our girl. We'll make it good for you. It will be better than any dream."

You moaned, hearing his words, you wanted them both inside you. "Please, fuck me," You begged.

Bucky grinned, he looked over your shoulder at Steve. "You hear that, Stevie? She wants us to fuck her."

"Yeah, I heard, Buck. Can’t wait to fuck this sweet ass." Steve smiled back at you, he was still behind you, pressed his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. Bucky was sitting upright, his legs spread apart. He held you up, helping Steve position himself behind you.

“You move first so she can adjust to it first then I’ll move.” Bucky said.

Steve then poured more lube onto his length, he poured generous amount of lube and stroke it onto his cock. Then he was positioned at your entrance. "Are you ready?" He asked, his mouth was against your ear. His hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes," you nodded.

"Relax," Steve said. You were aware of Steve's hands spreading you open. The tip of his cock brushed against your hole.

"Fuck," you whined.

"It's okay, doll. We'll take care of you." Bucky said, rubbing circles on your thighs.

Steve pushed inside you slowly, feeling his girth spreading you wide. "God," Steve groaned, his head leaning back. You could feel him stretching you open. You gasped, and gripped onto Bucky's shoulders, the pain was intense, it burned a little making you winced.

"Shit, fuck, shit," You groaned. It was uncomfortable at first. But he waited, and he didn't move, he was letting you adjust.

"You're doing good, sweetheart." Steve whispered, stroking your back. "Just relax."

You took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. They were stretching you out, "You ok, sweetheart?" Bucky asked. Bucky kept his eyes on yours, making sure you were okay. “Is it too much for you?”

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." You closed your eyes, trying to relax. You knew it would pass, and the pleasure would be worth it.

Both of them were helping by rubbing your back, kissing your lips, and whispering sweet praises into your ear. You could feel both of their hands on your hips, and their mouths kissing and sucking at your neck and shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky asked. You had never felt more full.

"It feels so good, you guys are so big. Just... give me a second," you said. They both waited patiently, not moving as they allowed you to adjust. You began to move your hips, trying to encourage them. "I think I'm ready. Please."

Both of them started to move at the same time. Their pace was slow and deliberate, giving you a chance to get used to them being inside you. You moaned, throwing your head back against Steve's shoulder. It felt amazing, having both of them moving at the same time. The burning sensation was replaced with an intense feeling of pleasure. You could feel both of them hitting the spot that drove you crazy.

Steve reached around and started playing with your tits, sending shivers down your spine. Bucky had one hand on your hips, and his other hand was between your clit. Both of them were thrusting in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making you scream their names.

Bucky groaned, "Oh doll, you feel so fucking good."

"I think we're going to have to pick this up a bit," Bucky said as he thrust deeper inside you.

"Yeah, I think she's ready." Steve started to move faster, thrusting deep inside you.

"Yeah, baby. Take our cocks. You like taking our cocks, don't you?" Steve hands from behind were groping your tits, squeezing and massaging them.

" Yeah, baby. Take our cocks." Steve growled, his hands from behind were groping your tits, squeezing and massaging them as he pounded into you. "You like being filled up by two cocks. You love having us inside you."

"Oh, fuck, yes. I love it. Fuck me harder, please," You begged.

"Your ass feel so good, sweetheart. So tight and hot," Steve groaned. "You're doing such a good job, taking us both. You're being such a good girl for us, baby."

They were both thrusting inside you, your body sandwiched between them, their movements making the friction against your clit that much sweeter. You were surrounded by their smell, their skin, their sweat, their moans of pleasure. You were overwhelmed, your senses consumed by them. Part of you thought it was the drug's effect but another part knew that it was just because of who they were.

Now you could care less if it was the drugs, it was amazing. The sensations were so intense. Bucky gripped your chin, "Focus on us, doll. On our cocks inside you, on our voices." His grip on your chin was firm, but he was still gentle.

"That's it, focus on how good we feel," Steve whispered in your ear, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. "Do you know how beautiful you are? How sexy?"

Bucky moved his hand from your chin to your hair and grabbed a fistful of it, pulling your head back so that he could claim your lips. He kissed you fiercely, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, loving the possessiveness of his kiss.

When the kiss ended, Steve turned your head so that he could claim your lips as well. Your body was burning up, their combined pleasure coursing through your veins, your blood singing with the feeling. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock and you could feel his breathing becoming ragged. He was getting close.

"Fuck, Bucky, I don't know how long I'm gonna last." Steve said. You knew Steve was holding back, he could easily pound into you if he wanted to, but he was waiting for you and Bucky to get there.

"She's close, just a little more," Bucky grunted.

"God, I'm so close, please," you begged. You needed to come.

"Come for us, doll." Bucky growled.

"Yes, yes!" You cried as your orgasm washed over you, your walls clamping down on both of their cocks, the sensation of you walls spasming and contracting was too much for them to handle, pushing them both over the edge. They both kept fucking you through your high as their thrusts became frantic, both of them chasing their own releases.

"Buck, I'm close," Steve grunted.

"Yeah. Me too. Come on, Stevie, come in her ass. Fill her with your come. Show her who she belongs to. Claim her."

Bucky groaned, his body going stiff as he emptied his load into you. Steve let out a loud moan as his orgasm hit. He thrust deep inside you, filling you up. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, his seed coating your insides.

You slumped against Bucky, your body completely spent. They stayed inside you for a moment, both of them trying to catch their breath. Steve moved first, carefully pulling out of you. He gently picked you up and placed you down on the bed. Bucky pulled out, and you let out a small moan. You were already sore.

"I'll get you a towel," Steve said, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "Just stay right there."

"Here, sweetheart. We’ll clean you up." Bucky gently wiped away the remnants of his and Steve's cum.

You smiled, feeling so relaxed. Bucky finished cleaning you and threw the towel on the ground. He kissed you deeply, and you couldn't help the smile that crept on your lips. He broke the kiss and laid next to you, holding your body close. He snuggled into your other side and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

"That was intense," you commented, a smile playing on your lips.

"That's an understatement, doll. You were amazing," Bucky chuckled, expressing his admiration with a sweet kiss.

"Thanks to both of you. That was incredible. You two have been with women, but that was my first time with two people. I'm so glad it was with you guys." You looked at each of them, your eyes full of love.

"Are you kidding?" Steve chuckled, "We should be thanking you. You're the best thing to happen to us, darlin'."

Bucky's fingers traced light patterns on your arm, and he added, "I agree. So, did you enjoy yourself?"

"What do you think?" you laughed. "I don't know how I'm going to walk tomorrow."

"Well, hopefully, it will be a nice reminder of tonight," Bucky grinned playfully.

"Yeah, I doubt I'll be forgetting tonight anytime soon," You chuckled.

"Good," Steve smiled, his gaze filled with affection. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, delivering a gentle kiss. "I'm glad you had a good time. We did too."

"You have no idea, doll." Bucky smirked. He gave you another kiss on your forehead. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"That would be great, actually. I'm a little thirsty," you admitted, the aftermath of your shared activities leaving you in need of hydration.

"We should all hydrate after that," Steve laughed.

"I'll be right back." Bucky walked out of the room, heading to the kitchen

Steve shifted to lie beside you. "That was quite a ride."

"It was," you smiled, the post-experience glow evident on your face.

"You're really amazing, you know that?" Steve complimented, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

"You're not so bad yourself," You laughed.

Bucky returned, cradling two bottles of water in his hands. He extended one to you and the other to Steve before settling down on the opposite side. His eyes reflected a mix of concern and care.

"Are you okay? You didn't hurt yourself or anything?" Bucky inquired, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, I'm fine, Buck," you reassured him with a warm smile.

"Good," he sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I'd feel awful if we hurt you.”

"Don't worry about me. I can handle a little rough sex." You laughed.

"If you say so." He chuckled.

You smiled, finishing the last drops of your water. Steve gathered the empty bottles, disposing of them in a nearby bin.

As you laid down, a yawn escaping your lips. The drug coursing through your system, coupled with exhaustion, was taking a toll on you. As you lay there, a hazy stupor enveloping your senses, you could hear Bucky and Steve engaged in conversation, but couldn't understand what they were saying as everything began to fade.

You drifted off to sleep.

The next time you opened your eyes, the morning sun bathed the room in a warm glow. Glancing over, you noticed that Steve and Bucky were still peacefully asleep next to you. You took a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of warmth and comfort before carefully disentangling yourself from them and tiptoed into the bathroom for a refreshing shower. Afterward, you draped yourself in a robe and made your way to the kitchen.

It was the morning after your first night as mates. It wasn't a secret that Steve and Bucky had wanted this for a long time, but you hadn't been so sure. They were your best friends and you didn't want to risk messing that up by bringing feelings into the mix. And yet, they'd somehow managed to convince you.

As you bustled around the kitchen, the mellow sounds of brewing coffee filling the air, a subtle noise pulled you from your tasks. Swiveling around, you found Steve and Bucky, now fully awake, standing in the doorway. "Good morning, boys," you greeted them, a warm smile gracing your lips.

They exchanged puzzled glances. "What are you doing up? Why didn't you wake us?" Steve inquired, clearly confused.

"I just wanted to get a head start on the day," you replied casually, your smile unwavering.

Steve closed the distance between you, a gentle expression softening his features. "That's not how this works, doll. You wake us up. You need anything, you let us know." He smiled, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, you both look so worn out, and I don’t blame you after what we did last night. So, IO figured you could use the extra sleep,” you explained, pouring two mugs of coffee, offering them each one. “Plus, I wanted to make you a thank-you breakfast, for being so amazing to me,"

“Careful, doll.” Bucky sidled up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder. "You keep this up and we'll start to think you want us around." He smirked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"And that's a bad thing?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, before pulling away with a playful grin. "Not in the slightest, doll."

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving." Steve announced.

"Well, that's no surprise," you teased, earning a glare from Steve. "I'll finish making breakfast, you two can sit."

"No way," Steve retorted, snatching the spatula from your hand and taking over. "Go sit."

"Yeah, doll," Bucky added. "You sit. Relax." He nudged you toward the kitchen table.

"Guys, come on, let me help," you insisted, attempting to reclaim the spatula from Steve's firm grip. He playfully held it just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Not a chance," Steve chuckled.

You pouted, "But… I want to be nice to you guys."

"You are being nice, sweetheart." Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead as he placed a tender kiss. "Now, come on, sit. Let us take care of it."

Reluctantly, you complied, settling into a chair and observing as the boys skillfully took charge of breakfast preparations.The sizzle of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filled the air as they expertly flipped them, occasionally stealing glances in your direction. Engaging in casual conversation, you asked, "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Nothing too exciting," Bucky responded, flashing a charming grin your way.

"That's fine," you reassured him. As they finished cooking, they presented a delightful spread in front of you. "Wow, this look delicious, thanks, guys!"

"It was our pleasure, sweetheart," Steve smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"We love spoiling you." Bucky grinned, digging into his food.

"But after this, we have some business to take care of," Steve chimed in, his tone serious.

"Business?" You raised an eyebrow, curiously.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, doll. Just a quick trip we need to make." Steve's reassuring words did little to ease the sudden wave of concern washing over you.

You furrowed your brow. "What do you mean?"

"We've got a meeting," he disclosed, taking bite of his food.

Your expression shifted into one of curiosity and concern. "A meeting? With who?" you pressed for details.

They exchanged glances, prompting Bucky to downplay the importance. "It's nothing, doll. Just some boring stuff," he assured with a nonchalant tone.

"Are you sure?" you persisted, a hint of skepticism coloring your expression. The uncertainty in their demeanor was hard to ignore.

"Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, attempting to brush off your concerns with casual reassurance. "Everything will be fine."

You sighed, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to this meeting than they were letting on. "If you say so."

"We do. Now, enough about work. Let's talk about something more fun." Bucky smirked, the mischievous glint in his eye sending a shiver down your spine.

"Like what?" you asked, curious about the direction of the conversation.

"Well, we were thinking..." Steve began.

"About last night," Bucky continued, finishing his best friend's thought.

"Oh." You couldn't help but smile, a subtle blush creeping into your face at the memory of the previous night.

"And we'd like a repeat performance," Steve stated, his expression serious, though a playful undertone was evident.

"Would you?" you mused, feigning ignorance and adding to the playful banter.

"Yes, we would," Bucky affirmed, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes.

"Well, then," you replied with a sly smile, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I suppose that could be arranged."

Your giggles echoed in the room as you enjoyed their company, relishing in the shared thoughts and feelings about the night before. The three of you engaged in lively conversation, delving into the details of the memorable encounter. As the atmosphere remained light and playful, Steve and Bucky reluctantly acknowledged the ticking hands of time, signaling their departure.

"Doll, we’re going to have to leave," Bucky said, glancing at his watch.

"Okay," you nodded, your smile persisting. "Stay safe, you two."

"Always, sweetheart." Bucky kissed your forehead. "Now, why don't you get some more sleep?"

"I might do that." You smiled.

"Good." Steve planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"Come on, let's get going." Bucky urged, taking the lead as he walked toward the front door.

"See you later, sweetheart." Steve kissed your cheek before turning to follow his partner.

“Bye, boys." You waved, your smile lingering as you watched them walk out the door, leaving you to your own devices for the rest of the day.

Once alone, you headed back to the bedroom, crawling into bed and snuggling under the covers. Closing your eyes, you let sleep claim you, a content smile gracing your lips as dreams of Steve and Bucky danced through your head.

Last night was indeed the hottest night of your life.

What are your thoughts about the story? If you found it enjoyable, would you like me to pen a part 2? And if so, any ideas or suggestions for the next part?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky x steve #bucky x steve x you #marvel x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes

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babyjakes · 5 months

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〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | monster fucking

pairing | steve rogers x fairy!reader

warnings | me knowing nothing about fairies. reader is in "fairy heat"? bruce captured reader (potentially inhumane conditions for fairy-keeping?) soft sweet steve. size kink LOL. th-thumb riding? fingering. p-pinky fucking? stretching. multiple orgasms. squirting. praise and encouragement that makes me feral. pity kink? is that a thing? if it is, i think i have it.

word count | 1,225

an | i've never written monster fucking (or really anything super fantasy-oriented) so please be kind!! wasn't expecting to get sooo into this, but like there's just something about reader being literally so tiny that steve's pinky stuffs her to the brim that's making me all 🥲🫠😩

what if bruce was off working in some top-secret remote location and brought you back with him: a sweet little fairy he'd captured while working out in the field, just as you were entering your fairy heat 🫠

maybe you're just about 7 inches tall, with the body/proportions of a grown young woman. he's been conducting research on your species for quite some time, so he's able to determine basics like your age, your likely place of origin, etc. he's thrilled to have caught you at the start of your heat

what's your fairy heat? i made that part up simple, it's the span of several days that occur around the same time every month when your body's at its prime and looking to breed. you become insatiably horny, almost to the point of it being debilitating, and all you can focus on during your excruciating waking moments is fucking yourself on anything of appropriate size in sight

you're kept in some sort of incubator in his lab, a glass box that's a few feet by a few feet wide and deep. the bottom of the enclosure is made of a soft cushiony material, making any spot a good spot to lay down and rest. miniature food and water bowls are set out for you, and a bright lamp hanging from the ceiling of the box shines 12 hours a day. it's a pretty miserable existence, your makeshift habitat nothing close to the wide open flower fields and prairies you're used to, but it allows the scientist to observe you closely without any distractions or interfering variables. and since you're in heat, you aren't too worried about where you are or who's taken you. all you can do is writhe around on the soft floor of the incubator in desperate, horny agony

maybe one day bruce is out of the lab, but he told steve he could come check out his new findings and maybe keep you company if you'd let him. when he enters the room and sees you lying there, squirming and struggling weakly, of course the supersoldier's heart is instantly hurting for you 🥺

he approaches the incubator slowly, not wanting to startle you. but pretty quickly he realizes that you're paying him no mind; you're too preoccupied with your discomfort. he takes his time observing you, standing right in front of the glass box as his huge frame towers over you. bruce told him a little about your condition and the science behind it. it made him blush, but he accepted it like he would learning about any other species and their unique reproductive habits

"poor thing," he hums to himself as he watches your tiny body wriggle in distress. he's stunned by how pretty you are. you have the most delicate little face, and your translucent wings with their iridescent shimmer look like something straight out of a fairytale movie. you're completely naked- bruce removed your scraps of moss carpeting and leaf clothing when he found you. but it's not strange or offputting in the slightest to steve. he just thinks you're beautiful, such a stunning little creature that seems too precious for this world 💕

he notices the plugged openings in the glass wall that allow bruce to reach in and work inside the enclosure. carefully removing the rubber inserts, he reaches a large hand in, wanting to offer you some comfort if you'll take it. you're so tiny that you could nearly crawl right into the palm of his hand and curl up if you wanted to

but snuggles are the last thing you're looking for in this moment. when you see his huge hand lying there, palm up just a short distance away from you, you weakly crawl over, wings drooping in exhaustion. you couldn't fly at the moment if you tried

steve is a little surprised as you hoist yourself up onto his thumb, your tiny legs dangling on either side of it. it only takes him a moment to realize what you're doing- his cheeks turn bright red as you begin rolling your hips desperately, a faint feeling of wetness forming on the pad of his finger as you leak your glistening juices all over him

"oh doll-" his voice is dripping with pity and concern. he doesn't try to stop you, just watches as you so needily try to relieve yourself. as strange as the situation is, he can't help but find your primal actions endearing, in a way

he continues watching sympathetically as you grind your tiny little pussy down against his large digit. his heart swells at the way you place your hands down in front of you, trying to keep yourself upright as you rock at a steady pace. just a few moments later, he sees your little body spasming and realizes you've reached orgasm by merely riding along on his finger. "oh my," he hums thoughtfully, watching as your precious little toes curl in delight

your face is much happier after your climax. steve watches curiously to see what you'll do next, staying silent as you climb off of his thumb and move to the other end of his splayed-out fingers. as you lie yourself down on your back and spread your legs out on either side of his pinky, he's again blushing deeply. "o-oh, hey little one-"

he watches as you begin pushing down to press the tip of his smallest finger up against your leaking hole. seeing how much you struggle to maneuver against him, steve takes even more pity on you. "here, doll. let me help," he decides, bringing his other arm through the unused hole in the glass. he moves it over to lift your back up gently, supporting you in a sitting position as he carefully begins easing his smallest digit up into you, smiling affectionately as you let out a soft sigh of relief

"there you go. that's it," he's murmuring encouragingly as he carefully fucks you with his pinky. your little pussy is so tight around him, he's surprised he's able to fit. but you're taking him so well, and there's something so sweet about the way you look as you sit here in his hands, letting him stretch you out over the smallest finger he has 💕

"good, just like that" "such a pretty little thing you are" "that feel good, doll?" "just keep taking it, sweetheart" "so good for me, keep going" he's not sure if you can understand his words, but there's something he finds satisfying about talking to you this way

he can somehow feel your second orgasm approaching, your walls growing a bit tighter around him as he works up his pace a little more to carry you over the edge. "there," he's humming proudly, smiling as you manage to squirt out forcefully against him. your come ✨literally sparkles✨ as it coats his finger

as you're floating down from your high, he strokes your hair with his thumb as you lean up against the rest of his hand that's behind you. your eyes are droopy, your body no longer writhing in discomfort. as questionable as his actions might've been, it's clear he's taken care of much of your discomfort- at least for now

whyyy was this hot 🫠🫠 maybe i need to write fantasy shit more often lol

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navybrat817 · 6 months

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Mission Report

Pairings: Incubus!Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader, Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Incubus!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: After a night with the two demons, Brock comes to collect your body and faces the fury of all three of you. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, threesome, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, spitroasting, blood, violence (shooting, stabbing, and more), physical and mental torture, dark elements, death, revenge, implied noncon, possessive behavior, supernatural elements, Incubus Stucky (that's a warning, lovelies!). A/N: Fic #10 and final fic for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! I had to revisit my incubi the day before Halloween and this is a direct follow up to Ready to Comply. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Less than a day passed since Bucky and Steve claimed you as their own, but it felt like you always belonged to them. You were their eternal award for their capture. They were your reward for the pain you endured. The three of you would scorch the earth together.

Your captors weren't strong enough to endure the flames.

As you lay naked on the floor as instructed, you counted the footsteps as the squad members got closer. There were three pairs of heavy boots, one set which belonged to Brock Rumlow. You almost pushed yourself up when fiery anger coursed through your veins. You wanted him turned to ash just so you could watch the wind blow him away into nothingness. It would be glorious to smile in the face of his demise.

“She feels your rage, Buck. Reign it in,” Steve ordered from where he sat in the corner.

“No,” Bucky spoke in an almost laidback tone from the opposite corner. “Let her feel it.”

In the very short time they bound you to them, you figured out that Steve was the more assertive of the two. It didn't mean Bucky wasn't forceful when he had to be. At the moment though, he wanted you to feel a bit more of his impulsive side.

“Now isn’t the time,” Steve chastised, making Bucky scoff in reply.

You lost the concept of time the day you were unwillingly taken under Hydra's wing. Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds did you no good as you waited for whatever horror they decided to unleash upon you. The days were no longer a precious gift, but a stark reminder that you were closer to death.

A sound reminiscent of a snarl escaped as you opened your mouth. “Hydra took everything from me,” you grumbled as angry tears sprang to your eyes. “I want their blood to stain the ground. I want it to paint the walls.”

Thanks to the demons in your cell, your demons, you would get your revenge. You would live to fight again. And you would live to serve them. You promised them forever, after all.

An odd sense of comfort surrounded you and allowed you to breathe a bit easier. “We can feel your pain, sweetheart,” Steve whispered.

Bucky hummed, the warmth doubling within your chest. “We can also feel your strength, doll.”

“We'll spill their blood,” the blonde promised as you blinked the tears away. “But not if you're impatient. We need you to act docile when they take you out of the room.”

“Stevie's right. We know you're angry. We all are. They'll pay. Trust us,” the brunette agreed. “And we'll have lots of fun along the way.”

Demons were many things and played lots of tricks, but one thing they wouldn't do was lie to you. It allowed you to let the hurt go for the time being. “I'll behave,” you whispered when the footsteps stopped in front of the door.

“That's our girl,” the incubi said in unison, the words wrapping around your heart and reminding you that you weren't alone in this fight.

The bond crackled between the three of you as the door swung open. It allowed you to remain still, just like they told you to. You made no move to cover yourself as the men observed you on the floor. Your demons also made no move to go toward them. With the symbol above the doorway, there was no way for them to escape.

Yet.

“Well, well, well. I thought we’d find a corpse when we opened the door,” Brock smirked. Instead of snapping back the way you wanted to, you made a wounded sound instead. “But I guess they fucked the fight out of you after all.”

“She was a lot of fun to play with,” Bucky said, the phantom touch of his claw moving along your back easing you. “Really does go pliant with a cock in her.”

You had to bite your lip to suppress your moan. They wrung so much pleasure out of you that you stopped counting the orgasms. You were certain their seed was still dripping out of your holes.

“She was stronger than most,” Steve added, one of his claws joining Bucky’s as you made another small sound. It was arousing as much as it was calming. As fun as it would be to beg for their cocks in front of these men, now wasn’t the time to play. And the guards weren’t an audience who deserved to watch you get off. “Feel free to bring her back.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking freaks,” Brock sneered, his hand tightening around the taser prod on his hip. “Get up, bitch. We don’t have all day.”

You slowly lifted your head and held a hand out. All you had to do was pretend just a little bit longer. “Help me,” you whispered.

His lip curled in a dark smirk as he stayed in place. “You really think I’m dumb enough to go in there? Nice fucking try. Crawl if you can't walk.”

Bucky growled in your mind and Steve’s fury simmered in your core as you began to drag yourself across the cold floor, both of your demons itching to attack when the men laughed at your “weakened” state. You let them have their fun. It would be one of the last things they ever did in this world. And it would be your laughter ringing in their ears once their souls went to Hell.

Soon.

Once you crawled far enough out of the room, the guards finally moved to grab you. They each took an arm and yanked you to your feet, uncaring of your discomfort, as your head lolled from side to side. Brock’s eyes lewedly dragged along your shivering frame before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his dark eyes. There was no mercy in his gaze.

And you felt none in your heart for him.

The fingers on your chin tightened painfully, but you didn’t give Brock the satisfaction of whimpering. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered before he forced you to look over your shoulder, your neck straining from the angle. Bucky and Steve’s eyes glowed a furious shade of red as they moved to the center of the room and stared you both down. It would’ve frightened you if you didn’t know that they were yours.

“I think they miss you already. Slut,” Brock taunted, saliva hitting your cheek as he roughly released you and walked down the hall. “Bring her to my office. Let’s see her fight back when she can barely stand on her own two feet.”

Steve whispered one word as the men began to drag you away. “Now.”

A surge of energy flowed through you as you harshly shoved the guard to your right away with enough force that he smacked the wall. Before the other guard could react, you grabbed his gun from his holster and aimed at his head. “Safety first,” you said, firing a bullet through his skull.

“Stupid bitch,” the first guard snapped as he straightened up. You grabbed his wrist when he reached for his gun, his skin warming under your touch as he gasped air. Just as quickly as his skin grew hot, he grew deathly cold.

“You feel that?” Bucky moaned.

“I feel it,” Steve confirmed. “She's giving us his energy.”

You didn't know how you were doing that since Bucky and Steve used sex to drain life force. Were you a conduit now thanks to your bond? Just how powerful had they made you?

“Help,” the guard gasped before you pressed the gun to his forehead and fired. You smiled when his body hit the floor. It felt like minutes, but happened in the span of seconds.

The blood along the walls also brought an unexpected moan out of you.

Blood. Red. Lust.

“That’s our girl,” Steve praised.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky added, their pride in you making you whimper.

“Really?” Brock muttered from the end of the hall as he turned to face you, his gun in hand as you shrugged. “I should’ve known you’d do something stupid. Now I need to hire two more men.”

“Actually, you’re the one who did something stupid by giving me to them,” you said, gesturing behind you. “And we’re going to kill you.”

Your captor’s scoff made you smile more. He didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong. “Just because you have the serum doesn't mean you're not expendable,” he said, aiming the gun at your heart. “Let's see you try and kill me with a bullet in your chest, bitch.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you spoke in a low and hypnotic voice. It wasn’t your own. Your demons were speaking through you. “You’re going to shoot the symbol above the door until you run out of bullets and drop your weapon.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Brock’s forehead as he slowly raised his arm higher, the veins in his neck straining as he tried to resist the order. He had every reason to be afraid. The marking was the only reason Bucky and Steve hadn’t killed him yet. Once they were free, he’d have to answer for his sins.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Doesn't feel good to not be in control, does it?” you replied, taking great pleasure in knowing he couldn't stop himself. “Shoot.”

You stared him down as he fired the first shot, watching him grit his teeth. Your nipples hardened as he fired again and you couldn’t help but dip a hand between your legs as power continued to move through you. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much with two dead bodies nearby, but revenge was exhilarating to say the least.

“Don’t get started without us,” Bucky called out, even as you envisioned him wrapping a hand around his cock. With a whine, you grudgingly stopped touching yourself. “I wanna taste you while he begs for his life.”

“Oh, he’ll beg,” Steve smirked, his claws scratching the wall by the door. “And we won’t listen to his prayers.”

“Shit,” Brock groaned, his arm trembling as he took his last shot.

The hall went silent as you dared to look behind you. Whatever marking that kept the demons trapped in that cell was gone now, lost in a pile of rubble and dust on the ground. “It’s time to play,” you said, urging them to come out.

The gun fell from Brock’s hand as Steve took the first step. He sighed happily when nothing prevented him from walking through, but the glow of his eyes was anything but comforting as he looked at Brock. With unnatural speed, he flew toward him as he reached for his radio. The snap of his wrist breaking was one of the best sounds you’d ever heard.

“Mmm. Break his other wrist, Stevie,” Bucky suggested as he stepped out of the room and joined you at your side. You gasped when he pulled you in front of him to grind his hips against you, his cock hard and hot against your skin. “Make him scream.”

“Fuck-” Brock screamed as Steve snapped his other wrist, his hands useless as the blonde demon grinned.

Steve brought his finger to his mouth and licked a drop of blood away. “You taste bitter,” he taunted before he lifted his head. “Another guard is on the way.”

Bucky chuckled as said man entered the hall a moment later. “All alone? That's brave and stupid.”

“Oh, my God,” he said as he surveyed the scene.

It had to be quite the sight. Blood and brain matter along the walls, the man's boss on the ground in pain, you and your demons naked and unafraid. Haunting and beautiful.

“There's no God here,” Bucky smirked as he lazily rocked his hips against you. “But feel free to pray anyway.”

“Do something!” Brock ordered through his pain.

Bucky spoke a command in his natural tongue as the guard dropped his gun. Fear radiated from him as he took a knife from his belt and turned the edge toward his throat. “I don't wanna-” he shoved the blade deep in his neck with wide eyes before he could finish his statement, gurgling as he collapsed.

“Die,” you whispered, completing his sentence.

You had to bite back a moan as Bucky turned your head to meet your lips in a filthy kiss, Steve smirking as he looked back at you two. The carnage fueled their need as much as yours. As the coppery scent of the blood continued to fill your nostrils, you justified that this was the right thing to do. The men made their beds.

They could die in them.

“Come in,” a voice on Brock's radio rang out.

“Shh. Don’t make a sound,” Steve ordered, grabbing Brock’s radio as the operative went eerily silent. His eyes bulged as the demon began to speak with his voice. “Go ahead.”

“Thought I heard commotion in the hall. Sent David in to assist. Do you need more backup? Over.”

“Negative. Subject tried to escape and we subdued her. All clear. But no one is to go in the South Wing, no matter what you see or hear. And tell all S.T.R.I.K.E. members to gather in the debriefing room and await further instructions. Over.”

“But sir-”

Steve's eyes flashed as he continued to speak like Brock. “Did I fucking stutter? Get the men there and stay the fuck out of here. That's a direct order. Over.”

“Roger that.”

Bucky chuckled when Steve crushed the radio in his hand. No alarms rang out. No soldiers ran down the hall to recapture you. There were no lockdowns. Brock knew he was fucked.

And not in the way you would be.

“You know, Rumlow. You truly are a dark soul with a penchant for pain,” the brunette began, nipping your shoulder as his hands roamed your body. “We could’ve worked out some sort of deal with you. Given you true power. But you just had to lock us up.”

Something dark surfaced from the depths of your mind as you listened. You saw yourself curled up, naked and trembling, in the corner of a cell similar to the one they kept your demons in as Brock advanced on you. “Make yourself useful or you’ll die choking on my cock,” he threatened. It was a memory you kept locked away after they captured you and shot you up with the serum. One they thought they erased for good.

The anguish was almost enough to drown yourself in.

“And you just had to hurt our girl,” Steve snarled, swiping his claws across Brock’s cheek when you whined.

“No one hurts our girl,” Bucky growled over his cry as blood sprayed from the open wounds.

You no longer felt like you were drowning as they fed you strength, allowing you to see clearly again. You always wanted someone protective by your side. Someone to fight for you. Now you had two beside you.

“He can’t hurt me anymore,” you said as the blonde grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back down the hall toward you. He may have yanked a few strands out along the way. “Would you like to hear my mission report, Rumlow?”

His chest heaved a bit as he lay on the ground, trying to breath steadily through the pain. “Yes,” he lied, knowing better than to smart off again.

You arched your back when Bucky covered your breast with his hand, squeezing it gently as Steve joined you and began to play with the other. “You tossed me in their cell with the hopes they’d drain my energy, but I came out stronger. You know why? Because I gave myself to them. All of me,” you explained. A gunshot rang out before Brock screamed and grabbed his knee, the pistol you stole from the dead guard now in Steve's hand. “Their power flows through my veins and my soul belongs to them. We’re bound to each other.”

“And her energy is delicious. Just like her cunt,” Bucky smiled as he turned and shoved you into Steve’s arms. He sank to his knees and winked before he tossed your leg over his shoulder, nosing at your slit. “Hold my horns if you need to.”

“I supposed we should thank you,” Steve said, tossing the gun away. He brought a hand back to your breast, pinching your nipple as Bucky licked along your folds. You grabbed his horns and squeezed when his wicked tongue got to work. “Whatever you injected her with helped her survive what would've killed a normal human. And the more we fucked her, the more she needed us.”

“Such a greedy, pretty thing when she takes our cocks,” Bucky spoke against your pussy, the image of him fucking your throat while Steve took you from behind shimmering in your mind. You could feel them inside you, claiming you as theirs. “Didn’t even take much for her to come when we took her ass.”

Your holes clenched, desperate for them to fill you again. “You tried to turn me into a weapon,” you moaned, smiling as blood dripped from Brock’s leg. “I guess, in a way, you succeeded. Because we’re going to destroy Hydra.”

Bucky flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit as you squirmed. It wasn't enough. You needed more. “Three guards down.”

Steve smiled as he kissed along your neck, his lips lingering on your pulse. “And you’re next, Rumlow.”

“No,” Brock breathed, pushing himself up with his elbow. Fire filled your eyes when he met your gaze, his face going pale under your stare. Were your eyes glowing? “I-I can still join you. I can help.”

“I don’t think you can help us,” Steve said, nodding down to Bucky. His tongue stabbed deep with a moan as he swiped his hand along Brock’s thigh, his claws tearing through the tactical pants and skin. More blood splattered as he screamed in agony. “But you can bleed.”

“Beg. I want you to beg for me to save you,” you moaned, grinding against the brunette’s face before your expression twisted with anger. “I was innocent, you piece of shit.”

Where was your innocence now? Gone. Destroyed. But you made a choice. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness by joining forces with the incubi they captured. And you didn't regret it for a second.

“Please,” Brock said above a whisper, trying in vain to cover his wounds. How much had it taken for him to say that single word? “I-I was just following orders. I'm sorry. Save me.”

You regarded Brock with an unsympathetic gaze. You could show him compassion that he never bestowed upon you and let him see that there was still good in you. But where was the fun in that? What kindness did you possibly owe him?

You glanced back at Steve as you considered it, who merely smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You felt Bucky smile, too. They encouraged your fury, fueled it. These demons truly were glorious. Horrifying.

And they were yours.

“You're not sorry and you know the orders were bullshit. So as far as saving you?” You asked, smiling when the realization of his doom crossed his face. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Brock's hands flew to his head as he let out a cry of anguish. It filled the hall, like a song of agony as the lights flickered. The sound almost shook you to your core, but it fed into your growing darkness. You embraced it with a smile.

“Do you know who those screams in your head belong to?” Steve asked evenly as Brock continued to yell and thrash around. “That's the suffering of every person you ever hurt. All the pain you caused.”

Bucky pulled his mouth away to glare at him. “Including our girl.”

How many bodies had Brock and his men left on their path of destruction? How many lives had they ruined? It was only fair to return the favor.

“Stop it! Make it stop!” Brock cried, slamming the back of his head against the ground with enough force to crack it. “Stop!”

You cried out when Bucky shoved two fingers inside you, his claws careful not to cut you as he thrust deep. “You're close, doll. Dripping down my fingers,” he said, the sound of your wetness blending in beautifully with the wail of pain.

“He's close, too,” Steve said in your ear as he reached down to toy with your clit, playing with the sensitive bud with a grunt. You hardly paid any attention to Brock now, even as his body twitched and blood from his skull stained the floor. He was inconsequential to you as the light began to fade from his eyes. He was nothing. “It's the end for him.”

Bucky twisted his fingers with a smirk, your pussy quivering as you were ready to fall apart. “Come while he takes his last breath. Let go. Let it all go.”

Your vision swam as you did as he commanded, your entire body throbbing with pleasure. You felt the air leave Brock's lungs as bliss flooded you, Bucky's groan obscene as he brought his mout back to lick up your essence. Steve held onto you as you lost yourself, every part of you inside and out owned by their touch.

In that moment, you were invincible.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky said, his mouth and chin wet from your release as he took his fingers out and lowered your shaky limb from his shoulder. “Damn. I thought he'd last a little longer. I wanted to shove his taser rod up his ass.”

“You still can,” Steve said, kissing your shoulder. “You did so well, sweetheart. You okay?”

The praise from both of them made you preen as you looked at the surrounding carnage, slowly coming down from your high. “I'm better than okay,” you exhaled, reaching out with your foot to nudge Brock's body, relief hitting you square in the chest when he didn’t move. Your tormentor was dead. And you wouldn't shed a single tear for him. “He's gone. He's really gone.”

“He is. And we're free, thanks to you, doll,” Bucky spoke, licking his fingers clean before he stroked himself, a cool shade of blue flickering from his red eyes. “Our mate.”

I'm theirs and they're mine.

And as their mate, you had to thank them. Take care of them. Worship their hard and aching cocks the way you were made to.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

“With pleasure,” Steve smiled, putting you on your hands and knees before he sank down behind you. He shoved his thick cock inside you with no warning, the head of it practically kissing your cervix as you screamed. “This is just the beginning. We have more lives to destroy when we’re done fucking you. For now.”

Bucky tapped his cock against your cheek affectionately before he pushed inside your eager mouth. “Alexander Pierce. Jasper Sitwell. Everyone. We'll kill them all,” he promised, snapping his hips in time with Steve as you moaned, letting them use you like a ragdoll between them. But you didn't feel used in the slightest.

You felt complete.

“You're free,” Steve grunted, bringing his palm down on your ass with a sharp slap. “We're free.”

He was right. You were finally free from the shackles Hydra tried to put on you. And you couldn't wait for the carnage the three of you would continue to spread, once you could form a coherent thought. All you wanted for now was for them to paint every hole of yours until there wasn’t a drop left.

Bucky's head fell back with an excited moan, as if he read your mind. “And we have so much time to make up for. So take our cocks and let us fill your holes before we burn this place to the ground.”

That was a mission you were more than happy to complete.

So, THAT happened and I'm not sorry. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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frostironfudge · 1 year

Text

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.

Won together.

Lost together.

In the past few days died together.

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.

Wanda looks down at her hands.

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.

“I know, I did too.”

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.

“Wh-what?”

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.

You stand there dumbfounded.

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated

that about the company’s past.

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.

Opening it reveals a burner phone.

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.

Opening the text.

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”

“So confident.” You raise your brows.

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”

No one nods.

Nick shakes his head leaving the room.

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.

Nat and Sam stare at you.

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.

His mouth opens again to speak.

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.

People trickle in and out.

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.

Finally it's just the two of you.

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.

“You lied?” You repeat.

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”

The doors open to your floor, you step out.

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.

Mixed training was now mandatory.

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.

You grin at him.

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y/N.”

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.

Sam takes his arm away.

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”

You glare at him, “Alright.”

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.

You frown in recognition.

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him?

Why do you miss him?

He hurt you.

He lied.

He hurt you.

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.

Your palms cover his, you look up at him.

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.

“Poppet, something is wrong.”

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?

Why was he falling to his knees?

You look behind him, people standing and watching.

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.

Steve keeps his eyes closed.

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.

“Steve—,”

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.

“I see and why is she yours?”

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.

“You can’t have him at risk again!”

“I won’t let you die!”

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.”

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.

“He’s in the United Kingdom.”

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.

When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

3K notes · View notes

anika-ann · 8 days

Text

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8k

Summary:

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and landing a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body and the water and snow and icy wind would for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons. With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest pair of blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to then one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head. “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down?

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

#CT 2024 raffle entry #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #soulmate au #soulmate steve rogers #the unexpected #anika ann

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

Hey! Can I request how MCU characters would react to you getting injured on a mission? <3

Love me some protective Avengers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, Scott Lang, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, mission injuries, worry, protectiveness, mention of blood, soothing kisses, warm baths

A/N: My Marvel writing is taking some angsty turns lately.

Steve does everything he can to patch you up right away. Its something left over from war, is he doesn't help you now he feels like he might not get the chance to. Even if the injury is small he will bandage you up himself before carrying you over to the medical wing of S.H.I.E.L.D and waiting in the room with you for the doctors to look you over.

Bucky holds you against him during the ride back, never taking his eyes off your injury, pressing his hand over it despite the blood. He's had plenty of blood on his hands, he never wanted yours. Stays up all night with you and is on your beck end call.

Sam swoops you up and flies you to the nearest hospital, asking for doctors as soon as he's inside. He's not calm, he can't be when you're breathing so heavily in his arms. Before the doctors take you away he presses a long, hard kiss to your forehead. When you wake up he's by the bedside, smiling at you, holding your hand, with a bag of your favorite snacks on the little table next to your bed.

Natasha can patch you up by herself, she's had to do it for herself, for her sisters, for her friends. So why can't she stop her hands from shaking now? When you smile up at her, strained as it might be, she feels a weight lift off her shoulders. Your smile is everything to her, everything.

Clint blames himself for not reacting fast enough to get you to the medical wing before you passed out. He was on edge the whole time while the doctors were looking you over, bouncing from foot to foot. You feel his lips against your forehead when you start to wake back up. A few cracked ribs, you're gonna have to sit out some missions from now on. But don't worry, he'll kick some extra ass just for you.

Thor makes sure that your enemies eat dirt and blood before he takes you to his bedroom and calls the doctors over. Don't even tell him that you're fine when he can clearly see you're in pain. Hates not being able to do anything but walk around the room, sparks flying from him due to how nervous he is. He'd like nothing more then to hug you tight and kiss you all over to make sure you're okay, that would hurt you so he settles for holding your hands while you sleep beside him.

Loki doesn't know healing magic, not yet. If anything will get him to learn it its seeing you groaning in pain. He's being pretty rude to the doctors, yelling about how they better fix you or nothing and no one will be able to fix them when he's done, just like the sorry bastards who did this to you. When the doctors are gone he goes in for a kiss only for you to stop him and tell him to go and say sorry, otherwise he's not getting a kiss from you.

Scott has a medical kit in his pocket but for more severe injuries he takes you to the hospital. He makes sure that you're never alone and if he falls asleep he leaves his ants to watch over you. Because he doesn't want to leave you the ants are running all over the house, fetching you what ever you might need while he does things like help you clean your wound or help you change clothes. It saves time.

Kate freaks out at first. As she is still new to being a hero she can't help but be beside herself when you go down. You tell her that its just some bruises and that you'll be fine but it does little to ease her nerves. What makes her freak out more though is you taking off your shirt and telling her to inspect the injuries. If she could stop staring at your half naked body she might be able to do as you said.

Peter prepares you a bath and runs out to get your favorite food while you're being patched up at S.H.I.E.L.D and then brought to your place. You don't expect him so he nearly gets hurt by you. Its a little funny initially but he quickly goes back to being the worried and doting boyfriend. Can't go an hour without kissing you and asking if you're in pain or if you need something.

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heaven4lostgirls · 8 months

Text

Never Enough (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warning: angst, allusion to breakup, Steve chooses Sharon over reader.

summary: Steve leaves you, thinking you’ll wait for him.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I’ll be honest, this isn’t my best work, but I thought why not get something out because I’m pretty sure the next chapter of mr americana and the heartbreak prince will be a little delayed cus I have so much work to do but I hope this tides you over until them lmao.

part 1, part 2, part 3

“Steve, I swear to god if you walk out that door, we’re done” you say as tears run down your face. It’s radio silent in the Avenger’s compound as Steve stands in front of you about to leave because Sharon had called him because of an ‘emergency.’ After she had found out that you were Steve’s girlfriend, she found ways to come in-between the both of you and somehow, she was succeeding. This was your third fight about Steve just leaving out of nowhere when she called for him, you don’t know how much of this you had in you.

“Don’t be dramatic y/n” he rolls his eyes, “we’ve been over this, she’s just a friend” he says, and you cross your arms over your chest. “Steve, how many times do I need to tell you that she is not just a friend to you? A month ago, she wanted to get into your pants” you raise your voice and Steve’s expression only grows more annoyed, “She doesn’t want me like that anymore!” he says, your expression grows even more annoyed. “If you step a foot out of that door Steve, I won’t be here when you get back” you threaten him and watch as he hesitates before he says,

“She needs me y/n” he pleads with you and tears if frustration line your eyes at his words. “What about me?!” you cry out at him incredulously, “she! Is not your girlfriend Steve! I am!” you throw your hands in the air as tears run down your face in silence and watch as Steve’s irritated demeanour breaks “I’m going y/n, we can talk about this when I get back” he says and slides a hand down his face in exasperation. “Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you dare” you threaten as he again walks to the door. “I’m sorry y/n, I’ll be back” he rushes to the door as he feels his phone buzz again.

As soon as the door to your shared room closes. You’re sliding down the wall as you sob uncontrollably, why was it so easy for him to pick her? Why did he pick her? Why were you never enough?

The rest of the Avengers stand outside your door, hearing your heartbreaking sobs is enough for tony to get Friday to unlock your door before he crouches down next to you, letting you wrap your arms around him and sob into his shirt. “Why wasn’t I enough?” you cry and Tony’s eyes mist over at your heartbroken whisper, he shakes his head as he rubs your back “you are perfect” he whispers as he kisses your forehead. Tony had always been like a father figure to you since you had joined the Avengers, a little older than Peter, he had taken you both under his wing and taught you everything you needed to know.

As much as it hurt all the Avengers to see you so broken, it hurt Tony that much more that this was the one source of pain he couldn’t protect you from. As your anguished sobbing turned into small sniffles, Tony lifts your head and wipes your nose with his sleeve, “eugh” he makes a face and smiles at the small laugh you produce.

You loom around the room to see Peter, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, and Wanda all standing or sitting in different parts of the room, watching you with sad gazes, you know they’ve probably already heard the entire fight and you find yourself collecting yourself before you stand up with the help of Tony to look at all of them, “I cant stay here” you admit to them. Their faces fall as they realise that this isn’t your usual fight with Steve and by him choosing to check on Sharon instead of staying with you, he’s lost his place in your life.

Some nod solemnly and other eyes mist over yet they all share an overall agreement knowing that they are willing to do whatever they need to help you heal. It’s surprisingly Tony who voices what everyone else is thinking, “do you not want to wait to hear what he has to say?” he asks softly as you lean on his chest. You shake your head as tears begin to fill your eyes again. “I asked- “your voice breaks, “I begged him to stay” you tell them and watch as sympathy floods their faces.

Wanda and Natasha are the first one’s moving in order to get you out of there, they give everyone tasks so that you have some breathing room, Tony is organizing a safe house out of state while Sam and Bucky are working on getting a plane and pilot to fly you to it. Peter is making food and trying to stock up the house with groceries for the near future and Nat is overseeing his orders to make sure he doesn’t put just junk food on it.

Whist everything around you is moving faster than you can imagine for you to be out of the compound before Steve gets back, which according to Bucky is in the next hour, You and Wanda spend time packing your clothes and essentials you’ll need to have. The quiet in the room is comforting even though you can feel the anxiety slowly overcoming you at the idea of finally leaving Steve.

Wanda breaks the silence as she bombards you with a hug, “I could feel your pain, I thought this might help” and it does, Wanda has an aura around her that is so comforting for everyone around her. You both continue packing before you’re interrupted by Bucky knocking on your open door, he smiles sadly, “we’re ready for you” he says and you nod, picking up the two duffel bags lying on the floor, leaving a piece of paper on the bed before you walk out to the quinjet.

Bucky stops you before getting on the plane, as he grasps your arm, he pulls you into a hug and you know this is his way for apologizing for Steve’s behaviour. “it’s not your fault Buck” you whisper, and you feel him nod into the hug, you were both friends through Steve and you knew just how scared he must be in fear of losing you because of what his friend had done.

Peter is next and you can’t help but laugh through your tears as you see him with tears running down his pouting face, he looks like a puppy. “c’mon parker pull it together’ you roll your eyes and pull him into a hug as he sobs, “you do know I’m coming back, right?” you whisper as his sobs stop and he nods and you both giggle together. “we’re ready for take-off” you hear the pilot through the megaphone, and you release peter to walk onto the plane.

As soon as the door opens for you, you hear your voice being called desperately. “Y/N!!” you hear, and everyone turns around to meet Steve’s broken expression. “NO! Please just hear me out!!” he’s screaming through his tears however Bucky holds him back. “No! Stop the plane please! I need to talk to her” he yells and tries to fight off Bucky to get to you, but you ignore him and wipe your cheeks and make you way onto the plane, “NO! Please y/n stop! I’ll be better baby! Just get off the plane please!” his screams are drowned out as you make your way to the couches on the plane and sob.

“Y/N! Please! Let me talk to her! Please someone! Let me talk to her!” his voice becomes hoarse from all the yelling as he watches the plane take off, he doesn’t stop struggling in Bucky’s hold until the plane disappears. “I’m sorry, God I’m so sorry” he cries into his hands before he collapses, crushing your handwritten letter in one hand as he sobs. Bucky lets everyone leave as he sits with Steve on the ground, watching his best friend fall apart on the dark asphalt.

#juliwrites #mcu #steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #captain america #steven grant rogers #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #captain america angst

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

Text

like the dawn

part xviii- the time heist

“am i supposed to be grateful to have survived this?” - brenna twohy

summary: five years after the snap, you still haven’t moved on. but when tony comes calling with a proposition, you aren’t so sure.

wordcount: 4.6k

warnings: cussing, violence, angst, reader has precisely 0 coping skills, events of the first half of endgame

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsprashimusic @yourfavunsub

a/n: two more parts after this 🤭 anyway i’m so sorry @yourfavunsub because it WONT LET ME TAG U CRYIN FR but i do hope y’all enjoy this one. this series has been one of my favs so far and i’m still not sure where i wanna go after this. but love y’all have a nice day 🫶

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After killing Thanos, you run.

You take everything from your rooms in the compound and take off one day after leaving a note to tell the team how to reach you in an emergency.

They respect your decision, especially after hearing you wake up screaming every night.

With nowhere else to go, you head to an old HYDRA safe house. It’s abandoned, obviously, but it has everything you need.

You clean the place up, fix the paint and repair damaged wood. You plant a large garden and buy a few chickens to take care of. You work for two weeks straight.

In the end, the cabin is comfortable. Homey and small but a great place to hide from everything going on. A way to keep running but stay in one place.

The small Romanian town grows used to your presence, and after a few months of living nearby, they don’t even ask about your past when you come to market to trade. They saw the look in your eyes when they asked about Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

You tend your garden that grows every week, in part thanks to your powers that seem to affect the area. You can’t control it, but your crops and flowers grow faster and healthier. In just a year you have a fully-grown plum tree in your walled-off yard.

And the years keep going by.

You celebrate Steve and Bucky’s birthdays every time they roll around, mainly by heading back to Brooklyn for a week and visiting the museum. Your museum.

Despite how often you go, you find that you’re never able to look their pictures in the eye.

All you see is your boys disappearing from your grip.

It’s all you can see when you go to bed.

———————————————————————

“Come, come on Margaret.”

You gather the unusually small chicken into your arms, smoothing her feathers as she clucks in greeting. The birds like you a lot. You suspect it’s the wings.

“It’s about time I fix that fence, isn’t it? If you keep getting out.”

Margaret shuffles indignantly in your arms, bawking as you let her back in the fenced-in chicken coop.

They’re a bit spoiled, you have to admit. All eight hens shared a large coop, with heaters and lights, and hay you change out every week. You let them out every morning and bring them in every evening.

With a light sigh, you start fixing the fence. Enhanced strength makes it easy work as you push the post into the ground, tuck the chicken wire back down, and make sure there are no more holes.

Shaking the dirt from your skirt and wings, you rise and head to the front of your home. As you clean your feathers, your hands pass over the small charms still on them. The ones from Wakanda. From a happier time.

The stone walls surrounding your property have one entrance at a large metal gate, which is currently wide open.

Usually, you keep it open during the day, lest a villager needs a cut healed or extra food. But it’s late now, and you’re ready to head in for the night.

But just as you head to the gate, you see a car. Furrowing your brows, you call out.

“Buna ziua. Te pot ajuta cu ceva? [Hello. Can I help you with anything?]” When no one steps out of the car, you continue. “Am prune în plus [I have extra plums].”

“Come on, (Y/N). Of all the languages I do speak, you know Romanian isn’t one of them.”

A voice comes from behind you and you whip around, firing off a blast of light that the group of three dodges.

Natasha, Tony… and Scott.

Scott was dusted. Five years ago.

You storm up to them, eyes watering.

“What are you doing here? What’s going on?” you ask.

Natasha takes your hand in hers, smiling.

“We might be able to bring them back.”

Your lips purse and you take your hand back, starting to shake. Entertaining such a hopeful idea is dangerous, you’ve learned.

Every night, you dream of your boys. And every time you wake up, you hope that it all was a nightmare and you’ll wake up in their arms.

You never do.

“Don’t tell me that unless you’re sure,” you say, brushing past them and heading towards your house.

They follow you, unsure if this is an invitation or a dismissal.

When you open the door and sigh, they know it’s the former.

“It’s a nice place,” Tony comments mildly. You offer a small smile, stepping into your kitchen. You open a cabinet and grab a tin of tea, the same kind you’d buy in the 40s, and put a kettle on.

You take three cups out, setting them at the dining room table that only has three chairs. Most things here are in threes.

As you hesitate to set the cups down, Natasha speaks up again. Slowly, carefully, as though you’ll run at the wrong word.

“Will you at least hear us out?”

To her credit, you don’t run. You start crying.

Scott and Tony share a look of “Oh, shit,” as the lights start flickering.

“What is there to hear?” you ask, laughing ruefully. “Unless you’re sure, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

Whistling from the stove catches your attention, and you hurry over to grab the kettle. Like usual, you forget to grab a glove. Your hand meets searing metal and you hiss, cursing your bad habit.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, standing up quickly.

You nod, eyes watering even more. It’s not from the quickly-healing burn, though. “Yeah,” you sob out. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Leaning on the counter, you take a few breaths. You grab the kettle again and fill all three teacups, dropping in the tea bags and some sugar.

“(Y/N), give us a shot.” Tony takes the cup. “That’s all we’ve got, and you’ve taken chances against worse odds before.”

You don’t dare look at the pictures on the wall.

“These two managed to rope me in, and we need your help. You ran off with Cap to save Barnes, so-“

“That’s before I watched both of them die.” You gently hit the table. “Twice.”

“And we might be able to bring them back a second time,” Natasha adds. “Please?”

A third chance. You’ve seen second chances, but never third. Never. And for you, you rarely got the former.

But here one was.

“Okay. Okay,” you say eventually. They all breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just… find someone to watch the chickens.”

———————————————————————

“I see we’ve both been taking it hard.”

You sit next to Thor on a bench. Everyone else is working on a large platform, but you’ve done your part. The years clearly haven’t been kind to him either. He’s at least 100 pounds heavier and reeks of alcohol.

He shrugs, sipping a beer. “Well, I didn’t have anyone left, so…” He raises the can. “To them.”

You awkwardly form a misshapen can from light and tap it to his.

“To them.”

“Hey Point Break, Lucifer! One of you care to lend a bit of that super-strength?” Tony shouts. You sigh, hoisting a large box of metal supplies in one arm. Tossing it at Tony’s feet, you gesture to the invention.

“So this can do it?”

The genius proudly slaps a metal leg. “Yep. Time travel made simple.” You glance at the complex wiring and countless panels. Sure, simple.

———————————————————————

You watch as Bruce, now half-Hulk half man, Nebula, and Scott test one suit. Apparently, there are risks with time travel. Interdimensional warping, quantum entanglement, String Theory, blah, blah, blah.

You’ve tuned them out by the time Rhodey walks in.

“Time travel suit, not bad,” he comments. As Bruce tries to insert a vial into the suit, Scott snaps.

“Hey, easy, easy!”

“I’m being very careful,” the scientist insists.

The two go back and forth before Scott momentarily disappears. He comes back, sighing heavily.

“There goes the first test run,” you say. When Scott tries to hype himself up to no avail, you pipe up.

“Let me go. Got nothing to lose, right?”

They have you suited up in minutes. The suit, which is nanotech, materializes with a simple tap on the watch, molding around your wings to fit you perfectly.

“(Y/N), now you’re gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don’t worry about that.” You nod as Nebula types away on a screen.

“Wait, wait, wait a second. Let me ask you something,” Rhodey cuts in. “If we can do this, you know… go back in time, why don’t we just find baby Thanos? You know, and…” He pantomimes strangulation.

“First of all, that’s horrible,” Bruce says at the same time you say, “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea.”

The scientist blinks in confusion before pressing on. “And secondly, time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change the future.”

You groan as they argue and eventually begin listing movies.

“Boys, as much as I love this little debate, can we get going?” They oblige your request, and head to the main room. The platform stands, ominous and waiting.

“Are you sure about this?” Natasha asks. You nod, smiling.

“I just wanna see them, even just for a second.”

She won’t say it, but she thinks it’s a bad idea for you to go. To see your past selves, before all the trauma. But you’re set on going.

You step onto the machine, flexing your fingers as you watch Bruce press various buttons.

“All right, (Y/N). We’re going in three, two, one…”

It’s like the ground opens up beneath you as you dive in, passing through some dimension in milliseconds before you pop back to normal.

You shout a bit, quickly stifling the sound.

You’re in your old apartment. The radio crackles with familiar music, and your bow sits by the door.

Wandering the small rooms, you finally come to your old closet. When you open it and find the box you’re looking for, you smile and pocket it. Past you forgot it even existed, so it wasn’t like you’d miss it.

The door handle clicking makes you jump, quickly closing the door.

Three voices wander in.

“You need to stop spending all this money, or Stevie’s not gonna have any when we ship out.” Your own voice sounds weird to your ears. Not just in the normal way, but because of how light it is.

The next voices knock the breath from your lungs.

“Hey, it was worth it. I got you that bear,” Bucky retorts. You lift a hand to cover your mouth as you sob.

“Three bucks, though? And you’re supposed to be a sniper?” Steve’s voice is wheezy, thin, and breathless.

“There’s a big difference between throwing a ball in a ring and shooting someone,” the brunet grumbles.

The three of you dissolve into bickering, and all the while you sit in a cramped closet. You haven’t heard their voices in so long. So long.

Maybe you can open the door and warn them. Where to avoid, what to do. How to live a normal life.

The moment you reach towards the door, the watch starts beeping.

“No, no,” you whisper, trying to quiet while frantically fumbling with the doorknob. “Please!”

And you’re back.

You’re kneeling on the platform again, teary-eyed for the umpteenth time and more determined than ever.

The team runs up, and Natasha gently helps you stand up.

“Hey, hey look at me. You okay?”

You catch your breath, reaching into your pocket. “Yeah, yeah, it worked.” You present the small box, clutching it tightly in your hands.

———————————————————————

“Okay, so the ‘how’ works. Now, we gotta figure out the ‘when’ and ‘where’,” you say, standing at the front of a meeting room. Various screens show the various stones, and the gathered team is grasping at any ideas.

“Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones-”

Tony cuts you off. “Or substitute the word ‘encounter’ with ‘damn near been killed’ by one of the six Infinity Stones. You nod. Two out of three times you’d come into close contact with one, it had almost killed you.

Scott shrugs. “I haven’t. But I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.”

Bruce steps around the table. “Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each. And these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

“Our history,” Tony clarifies. “So not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

You tap a screen, watching as all six flicker to life with images of each stone. “Which means we have to pick our targets.”

“Correct.”

“So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” When you mention him, you look up to see the god slumped in a chair.

“Is he asleep?” Nat asks.

Rhodey replies, monotone and unbothered as ever. “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

You manage to shake him awake, guiding him to the front of the room and sitting on a nearby stool.

The god coughs a few times, tugging off his sunglasses. “Uh, where to start? Umm… The Aether, firstly, is not a stone. Someone called it a stone before. Um, it’s more of an angry sludge sort of a thing… so someone’s gonna need to amend that and stop saying that.” You massage in between your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

Thor puts in a few eye drops as he speaks again. “Here’s an interesting story though, about the Aether. My grandfather, many years ago, had to hide the stone from the Dark Elves. Ooh. Scary beings.” He makes vague sounds, frightening precisely no one.

“So, Jane, actually-“ He pokes at the screen. “Oh, there she is. Yeah, so Jane was an old flame of mine. You know, she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time, and then the Aether stuck itself inside her…”

You cough to hide a chuckle.

“…and she became very, very sick. And so I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I’m from, and we had to try and fix her.” When you look around the room, Scott, bless him, is the only one paying real attention. You’re pretty sure Clint is asleep with his eyes open.

This doesn’t deter Thor, though. “We were dating at the time, you see, and I got to introduce her to my mother… who’s dead and, um… Oh, you know, Jane and I aren’t even dating anymore, so…” He sniffles a bit, voice growing heavy.

“Yes, these things happen, though. You know? Nothing lasts forever. The only thing that-“

You gesture for Tony to bring his little soliloquy to an end, and the billionaire reluctantly tries to bring the god to a chair. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

Thor brushes him away. “I’m not done yet. The only thing that is permanent in life is impermanence.”

“Awesome. Eggs? Breakfast?” Tony asks. You awkwardly clap a few times.

“No. I’d like a Bloody Mary.”

For the rest of that day and much of the next, you all discuss the rest of the Stones. Where they came from, what their powers are, and everything any of you know about them. And after hours of brainstorming, the plan is all laid out.

Reality is on Asgard in 2013, a mission given to Thor and Rocket. Natasha, Clint, Nebula, and Rhodey will be taking Power and Soul, all in space in 2014. Space, Mind, and Time are all in New York in 2012. And you’re going there alongside Tony, Bruce, and Scott.

“I don’t see how I’ll be much help. These-” You gesture to your wings. “-aren’t very subtle.”

Tony pats your shoulder. “Just c’mon, kid. We could always use the extra hands- or wings.”

“I’m 105, Stark. I’m no kid.”

“You’ve lived less than half of those years. You’re a kid,” he rebuffs. The two of you exchange a smile before he claps his hands.

“Alright, we’ve got a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.” He takes one last glance at the screens. “Let’s break some eggs.”

———————————————————————

New York City, 2012.

“All right, we all know our assignments,” you say, still catching your breath from the jump. “Bruce, get to the doctor. Get the Time Stone.” He rushes off, hurriedly jumping between buildings to stay out of sight. You turn back to Scott and Tony. “You two, get the Space and Mind Stones. I’ll get the Mind Stone once it’s in the elevator, but from there, I’ll only be backup if you get stuck.”

You fly up alongside Tony as Scott shrinks down atop his shoulder, ducking out of view as you spot the team. You can spot Steve, but you tear your eyes away, dropping down in search of the elevator.

Once you find it, you land on a ledge, taking a moment as you wait for the right moment.

“Oh, man. I almost forgot that Cap’s suit did nothing for his ass. I’m almost jealous, (L/N),” Tony whispers over comms. “That’s a slappable ass.”

“Tony!” you snap. “No one asked you to look.”

“But it is slappable, isn’t it?”

You sigh, deep and long-suffering. “Yes.”

“I think it’s great,” Scott pipes up. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.”

The elevator beeps, and you get ready to ruin a few HYDRA agents’ days.

“Who are these guys?” Scott asks.

Tony starts to explain, not quite minding his volume. “They are SHIELD, well, actually HYDRA, but we didn’t know that yet.”

“Seriously? You didn’t? I mean, they look like bad guys.”

“Yeah,” you shout over the wind. “It’s even more obvious when they’re brainwashing you monthly and prodding you with needles.”

After a bit of shuffling, you see Tony leap from the tower. “It’s all yours now, (Y/N),” he yells. You mock salute, diving off your ledge and watching as the HYDRA agents load into the elevator. You’re going to enjoy this.

As soon as the door closes, you blast a hole in the glass from the outside.

You hear the screams as you barrel in, immediately smashing the emergency call button to bits. No communication.

Fire beams of light as quickly as possible, letting them bounce off the walls in deadly ricochets. Once you take out all but one, you stop.

Brock Rumlow smirks and opens his mouth.

“Свет [Light],” he begins, confidence growing. You watch patiently as he lists off your trigger words, and he finally comes to the end. “Я готов отвечать [Ready to comply]?”

You tilt your head and smile. “I don’t work like that anymore, asshole.”

Grabbing him by the tactical vest, you throw him against the wall, landing a powerful kick to the center of his chest before you start throwing punches. It’s satisfying, watching the man who caused you so much pain actually fear you for once.

You leave him, barely breathing, and pick up the case containing the scepter before starting the elevator and leaping from the shattered glass. You land on a stairwell inside the Tower, hoping to meet up with the other two. Instead, you’re met with one of your best friends.

And he can’t quite believe it.

“Hey, Stevie.”

Instead of the greeting you’re hoping for, the Captain grabs you by the collar.

“Who are you? What’s going on?”

You furrow your brows. “Steve, it’s me. Bucky and I are alive.” When he doesn't let up, you roll your eyes, still adjusting to seeing him after five years. “Stubborn as always, hm? How about I tell you something only I would know?”

He doesn’t respond.

“For example, you wet the bed until you were 7, and one night after you lost a tooth and put it under the pillow you did it again-”

The captain cuts you off, teary-eyed but still mortified. “(Y/N)? Oh my god, it’s you. How did you get wings?”

You barrel on. “-and in the morning you were too embarrassed to admit you’d pissed yourself-”

“Okay, I get it, really-”

“-so you told Buck and me that the tooth fairy did it,” you finish. He pulls you into a hug and you practically melt as he rests a hand on your head.

“Now, I’m from the future, and I really need this scepter, but me and Buck are alive, you’ve just gotta find us.” He never pulls away, just letting you lean into him.

“How am I supposed to find you?”

You sigh. “It’ll all work out in the end. I promise.” You feel him nod into your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he says.

You gently pull away, taking his hand. “I missed you, too.”

“We’ve got a problem, (L/N,” Tony gasps over comms. “Head back to the rendezvous point.”

The blond captain casts his gaze to the ground and purses his lips a bit. A shy tell.

“Guess that’s the future calling?” he jokes. You laugh before your gaze turns a bit sad again. Steve decides he doesn’t like how sad you look however far in the future.

“I love you so much, Steve. Take care.” If the words shock him, he doesn’t give it away.

You give past-Steve one last smile before turning on your heel and heading back to the elevator, prying open the doors, and diving out of the building.

When you land beside your meeting point, all you can do is wait. And when Tony and Scott walk out looking more than discouraged, your hopes sink in your chest.

In between their bickering, they manage to explain. They lost the Tesseract. And there’s no do-overs. You curse, before thinking.

There was a point in time when you were sent on a mission to retrieve Pym Particles. There was also a time when HYDRA was in possession of the Tesseract. But that means…

“I might have an idea. I don’t like it, hate it, actually, but I think it may be our only option,” you finally admit. “There’s a couple of months when HYDRA had both Pym Particles and the Tesseract.”

Scott tries to stand up before hitting his head on the roof of the car they’ve sat down in.

“Wait, HYDRA as in ‘HYDRA’ HYDRA?” he asks.

You furrow your brows. “What does even- You know what? Yes. HYDRA HYDRA.”

“So when was this?” Tony pulls up a screen.

You think about it. You know the time period, but it’ll be easier if there’s less guards around. So what date…

“March 1983. Siberia,” you decide. The peak of the Cold War meant HYDRA was sending out soldiers left and right. Better odds.

Tony nods. “Any particular day?”

“The 10th.”

Scott gets out of the car, much more carefully this time, and holds up his hands.

“So we’re going into HYDRA? No offense, but I don’t want to have to fight past-you or past-Barnes. Or the two of you together,” he says. You smile.

“None taken. But-“ You shove the scepter into his hands. “You’re not going. You’re going to get this back to the compound, okay?”

You see Scott breathe a sigh of relief before quickly hiding it. A few taps to the watch later, he’s gone.

“You sure about this?” Tony asks.

You shake out your hands, getting ready for another disorienting jump to a much more sinister place.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s all good. In and out and we’ll be cooking with gas.”

The genius snorts. “Was that some 40s slang that I just heard, (L/N)?”

You roll your eyes, simply setting the date and coordinates in.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“I do.”

———————————————————————

HYDRA Base, Siberia 1983.

You almost forgot just how unforgiving the cold gets here.

The wind buffets your body as you and Tony spark into existence, fighting your way to the base. You let him shoot down the man guarding the door before you step over the body. Muttering under your breath, you punch in the code before slipping inside.

Just as you predicted, there aren’t many people prowling around. A few guards that you slip past or shoot down before they even know you’re there, but nothing you can’t handle. Plus, it’s not like you have to worry about an escape route, You can head back to the present as soon as you get the particles.

“They’re in there,” you whisper to Tony, pointing to a nearby lab. “Furthest freezer on the left, third shelf from the bottom. Code is 3395” You silently thank your usually-detested memory as he slips off, politely nodding to one doctor inside the lab before blasting him into the wall.

As he has his fun, you head further into the building, pressing down the nausea that comes with every familiar corridor.

You remind yourself that you’re doing this for the world, for your boys. You can handle a few minutes in this building.

Finally, you reach a locked door. Another code you remember too well.

In the center of the dull room lies a sealed safe. You raise your hand, focusing light to your fingertips before grabbing the lock. It melts in seconds, and you yank the door away.

Shielding your eyes, you reach out for the glowing cube when you hear a voice behind you.

“Что ты делаешь [What are you doing]?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Привет, Зима [Hi, Winter].”

When you force yourself to turn around, you see him. Not quite your Bucky, but not quite the Soldier either. His hair is shorter, but he’s got that same look in his eyes. Still holding the cube in your hand, you step closer.

He reiterates his question, but you don’t answer, instead opting to take his hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper. “You’re going to get out, and you’re going to be free. Just a little bit more of this, James, I promise.”

He tilts his head, but he doesn’t reach for his guns or knives. You don’t want him to get punished for not dealing with an intruder.

“What?” he whispers back. You can’t bring up the words, so you simply lean into him and rest your head on his chest. The tactical vest is scratchy and uncomfortable, but you ignore it. “Who’s ‘James’?”

“Not important,” you begin before backtracking.

“Actually, no. He’s very important. He’s you, in fact.” Gently bringing his flesh hand to his chest, you smile. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re Bucky. And today’s your 66th birthday -technically.”

The man in front of you is bewildered. It’s as if you told him the world was crashing down. For him, it might seem that way.

“And I know that sometime you’ll go back into that damn chair and you won’t remember I was here, but you will eventually. You’ve just gotta hold out a bit longer, m’kay, love?”

He nods, quiet as ever. You hug him tight, just like you’d done to Steve a few minutes earlier. Or- 29 years later? All this time traveling was messing with your brain.

“I love you, okay? Remember that.”

Bucky is still standing in that room when you slip away, heading down the corridor until you find Tony again.

He holds up two vials of the Pym Particles as you hold up the Tesseract, the both of you grinning wide.

“We’re back in the game,” he cheers. Alarms start going off throughout the base, but neither of you care. The agents will be too late anyways.

“Yes we are, Stark,” you yell over the wailing siren. “Now let’s get them back.”

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

Text

On Wings of Fate (3) - s.r. | b.b.

Series summary: You meet a kind stranger one day in the marketplace. He's a pirate, but a good man, he swears. Your knight isn't so sure, but oh, what does he know? You like the pirate; his eyes are like the sea and his smile... oh, his smile is trouble. Yet from the moment he docked at your kingdom's port, you just may have bargained for more than the three of you could ever imagined.

Pairing: knight!Steve Rogers x princess!fem!Reader x pirate!Bucky Barnes

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: violence, arguing, feelings, reader is grabbed/threatened briefly but she's okay, don't worry <3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

I do not do taglists anymore! You can follow @sanguine-marvel for new updates on all my Marvel fics.

dividers by s-tarksintern

Dawn cracked through the notches in the door, stirring you first, then Steve. Bucky had herded you both into his quarters after you escaped, insisting he didn't sleep much anyway. Steve, weary though he was, had taken the foot of the bed, sword at his side.

You slept longer than you ever had in your life, nearly an entire day. Back home, Petunia would've already opened the curtains and coaxed you awake with honeyed milk and summer fruit. The thought made you ache.

But seeing Steve perched at your feet, wisps of light dancing across his cheeks, was like coming home. You didn't regret a thing, despite the circumstances. You were alive and so was Steve. That was all that mattered.

The crown was still by your bed where you'd left it, as well as any jewels that hadn't flown off in your flight.

"Are we at port?" Steve yawned, pushing himself up from the floor. You shrugged, yawning.

"I haven't been out yet."

"Is the crown still there?"

You crossed your arms. "Yes. Where else would it be?"

"Just checking." His tone was light. You let it go.

You rose, opening the door. You raised a hand to shield your eyes from the sun.

"We're approaching port!"

Bucky was already awake, bright eyed even though you hadn't heard him gone to bed. His face had a mild sheen of sweat, the first two buttons of his shirt undone.

"Where?" asked Steve, fastening his chainmail.

"Bridgeport. We're as far as I could get you in a day, but I need to refuel."

"Thank you, Bucky," you smiled. "You've done so much. I want to repay you. Maybe…"

You removed the gold pendant from your neck and tried putting it over Bucky's. He stepped back, catching your wrists.

"Bucky, what—"

"Princess…" He stared at the necklace, wordless for several moments. It was like he was bewitched. Then he shook his head, taking another step back and letting go of you.

"No, no. You wear it a hell of a lot better, sweetheart."

"But you've done so much…"

"It's okay. I'm a pirate, I've got plenty of gold,” he grinned. “You should hold onto it."

"I shouldn't," you frowned, slipping it back on. "What if someone steals it in town?"

"I'll stow it away for you. And your crown. You're right: jewelry would attract too much attention. And that's the last thing we need right now."

"Hold on," interrupted Steve. "Why should we trust you?"

"Pardon?"

"Steve!" you scolded.

He didn’t back down. "How convenient that you'd be able to store precious items on your ship while we're distracted in town."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "You really think I'm a thief? After everything I've done?"

"This is the perfect time to take advantage," Steve said coldly. "A pirate is a pirate."

"Steve, stop it," you snapped. "What is the matter with you?"

"You're too trusting, Y/N!" he burst. "Don't you wonder why he was there on that first day to begin with?"

"He…" never told you. You'd never once questioned why Bucky was there; it hadn't seemed important at the time.

"I'm sure he had a good reason…”

"I was refueling. Like I'm doing now."

"But there are dozens of cities on the coastline," you mused quietly. "There are small towns that don't have palace guards to chase you. You took a risk going there, Bucky."

"Bigger cities have better supplies. But fine. Here." Bucky disappeared into his quarters, returning with a burlap satchel and the ceremonial jewelry from yesterday. He stuffed it all into the bag, then shoved it into Steve's chest.

"If I'm a filthy pirate, so be it. Take your things and go."

"Bucky," you pleaded. "Bucky, wait! I do trust you. He’s just—”

"This won’t work if your guard dog can't keep his bite to himself, princess." He met your eyes, blue turned icy. "Go on."

Steve's hand curled around your wrist and you were pulled on reluctant feet off of the ship.

"Come on, Y/N. We'll find another way."

You stumbled as you turned back, trying to catch Bucky's gaze. But he was gone, ship bare. You wrenched your hand away from Steve, chest heaving.

"What is wrong with you?! Bucky was helping us. He risked his life for you and I, Steve!"

"You don't know anything about him, Y/N! Gods, you're naive, thinking everybody's got good intentions. They don't. I know that, and so does Bucky. That's what you learn in a war, outside palace walls."

You recoiled like you'd been slapped.

"Oh. You think me a stupid little princess. Just like the rest of the castle."

"That's not what I meant."

"I thought you… I thought I was your equal, Steve."

"Y/N.” Steve looked aghast. “Please, of course we are. I didn't…"

You shook your head, storming into the village. Steve followed, calling after you.

"Y/N, wait, please. I don't think that of you!"

"Stop following me! We're not behind palace walls anymore. You're not a knight and I'm not a princess."

Your feet ached and your body was littered with bruises and nicks. Certainly, if there was any doubt you were no longer a princess, your appearance was sign enough. Your skirt was tattered beyond mending, but it was the only thing you had left. All your clothes back home had probably been looted or burned by now.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

The sound of chainmail made you stop. You sighed, facing the sky.

"I told you to let me be."

"I know you're angry and you can be angry with me all you like but I am not leaving you by yourself in a strange town," came Steve's voice behind you.

"Then at least afford me some distance."

"Fine."

You started walking and this time, the jingle of chainmail wasn't so close. This village was smaller, rougher. There were more pubs for one, and they were the extent of the town's development. Instead of cobblestone roads, the path was lumpy dirt and dry weeds. You stepped carefully, your shoes insufficient for the beaten roads.

“If you walk in the grass, it would be smoother,” Steve called behind you.

You huffed, taking off at a run. This wasn’t fair. None of it was. You were angry at Pierce for his betrayal, angry at your father for trusting such a horrible man. You were angry at Steve for his mulishness, and angry at yourself for, despite everything, still wanting his company. Why hadn’t you caught wind of Pierce's betrayal sooner? Perhaps Steve was right—you were helplessly naive.

“Please,” croaked a voice. “A crust of bread from m’lady?”

You slowed, spotting a frail hand that reached from under a ragged navy cloak. It shook as if weak from hunger. The figure was slumped against a crumbling stone wall.

“Please,” she begged again, voice cracking with age. “Anything will help, m’lady.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied as you neared. “I have nothing. But maybe…” you glanced towards where Steve was catching up. “I could try—”

The hand suddenly grabbed your dress. You startled, squirming.

“Not nothing,” she hissed, grip strong. “Doesn’t look like nothing on that pretty neck.”

She rose then, cloak slipping down. You gasped as a youthful, partially human face stared back at you, framed by fiery hair. Her green eyes glowed.

“Gods!”

“Y/N! Let go of her!”

You gaped in horror at the obsidian claws that appeared, her visage melting away. She grabbed your arm, claws clicking too close to your throat.

“Easy now,” she purred. “I only want the gold.”

Steve raced to you, sword drawn. He struck her arm but she only hissed, the sword clanging against hard scales. She swiped at him, which Steve narrowly dodged.

“What are you?!” you shrieked, struggling, but she held fast.

A man stepped out from the shadows, quick on his feet, and suddenly, Steve was distracted with another decidedly not-human creature. They fought, though the man didn’t appear to have any weapons. You continued to struggle with the woman, until—

“Tasha!”

The woman whipped her head around, though her grip on you remained. Both of your hands clung to the necklace.

“What are you doing?” Bucky barked, shoving through Steve and the man without a second glance. “You two promised you’d quit!”

“Times are hard, Barnes. We can’t all have an affinity for treasure,” ‘Tasha’ replied calmly. “And you left, remember? Besides, this one’s palace-pampered. I can smell it on her.”

You squeaked as a single claw danced over your collarbone. Bucky’s expression darkened.

“Let. Go.”

“Possessive, are we? You never did learn to share.” Her gaze turned onto Steve. “How ‘bout him? He looks good enough to sink my teeth into.”

“As much as he may deserve it,” grit Bucky. “No.”

“Oh,” she grinned, showing off rows of fangs. “You got soft, James. They’ll only break your heart, you know.”

“Natasha.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument. “Let her go. Before I make you.”

“It’s your fault for letting your toys astray,” she tutted but her grip loosened.

You stumbled away, knocking into Steve, who was no longer locked in a fight. He held you close, inspecting your neck. You let him, relief overriding your earlier spat.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Natasha said. “See? No bruises of mine. It’s not my fault she’s a squealer.”

“You and Clint promised your begging days were over.”

“War’s brewing,” said Clint, removing his own hood. “We don’t have much else.”

You gawked at the ivory horns that curled up and near his head. Steve stiffened in surprise.

“It’s not polite to stare,” sneered Natasha.

Quickly, you averted your gaze, mumbling an apology. She stared at you for a moment, then turned to Bucky.

“So, where did you find them? Didn’t think you were much for rubbing elbows with royalty.”

“None of your business,” Bucky clipped. “Don’t try t’act chummy after all this.”

“Me? You were always the sentimental bastard even while cutting throats,” she chortled. “And what do you plan to do? Sleep on your ship? Can’t be good enough for the pretty princess.”

“We’ll manage,” Bucky put firmly.

“We?” asked Steve. “Since when is it we?”

“Since you two can’t go a moment without finding trouble,” Bucky snapped back. “And as difficult as you are, the Princess doesn’t deserve that. Besides, it’s not like you have the faintest idea where you’re headed.”

“She and I can manage just fine without your pigheaded—”

“Enough!” you shouted. “Gods! Steve, we have no idea where we’re going and Bucky has been nothing but kind to us. Bucky, Steve was only trying to protect me, however backwards his actions were. We appreciate you, and we want to travel with you, if you’ll let us. But I cannot put up with any more quarrels!”

You folded your arms expectantly. Bucky looked at the ground. Steve glanced at you guiltily, then sighed.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of being a thief, Bucky. That wasn’t fair of me. She’s right: you’ve only been a good man. Hell, you could’ve left us here, but you didn’t.”

“Well,” Bucky grunted, unusually bashful. “You’re good people. Even if you can be a little exasperating.”

“Back at you,” but Steve was smiling.

“Now shake hands,” you ordered.

They shook hands. Bucky lightly smacked Steve’s shoulder, jostling him. You pushed forward, throwing your arms around Bucky, who gently accepted you with a hum.

“Thank you for coming back,” you said into the crook of his neck.

“‘Course, princess. I always will.”

Your gaze lingered on the slope of his nose and the dip of his Cupid’s bow. Steve touched your shoulder, startling you and Bucky apart. A beat passed.

“Interesting,” commented Natasha.

Bucky ignored her. “We may be able to barter passage to the kingdom in town. It should only take us about three days’ time.”

“I can get a message to my father there, if he’s fled," you said. "And hopefully the other kingdoms.”

Steve nodded. “We’ll need an army to fight Pierce.”

“Alexander Pierce?” asked Natasha.

Steve only glared at her. She stepped to Bucky.

“You’re going after Pierce,” she said.

“He captured my kingdom,” you explained, trying not to falter with those serpent eyes staring back at you. “He was my father’s advisor. We didn’t know he was planning this, though. Bucky got us out.”

“I see.” She turned, beginning to walk into town. “Well, you’ll need to refuel, and there’s no way you can travel in that, Highness.”

“Wh-what?”

“Do I speak in tongues?” she snarked. “If you’re going after Pierce, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“There’s no way we’re following you anywhere after what you’ve done,” Steve snapped.

Natasha regarded him coolly. “You don’t have to trust me. I don’t trust you either.”

“Then why are you—”

“I would assume James didn’t dock here by accident.”

You glanced at Bucky, who sighed. “No more begging.”

Natasha shrugged and continued walking. You and Steve stayed put until Bucky coaxed you along.

“‘S okay,” he said. “I know ‘em.”

“I know; that’s what I’m worried about,” said Steve.

“Aww, don’t worry, Stevie. I’ll keep you safe,” Bucky cooed.

He laughed as Steve shoved his shoulder, falling in step behind you. Steve remained glued to your side. You really couldn’t fight him at this point; most of the anger from earlier had dissipated anyway.

“I am also sorry,” Steve began quietly. “For what I said to you. I don’t think you’re stupid, Y/N, never. You care for others, and I can’t fault you for that.”

“No,” you sighed. “I suppose I am naive. Just look at what happened.”

“Preying on your kindness doesn’t make you naive. It only makes others cruel.”

“You and Bucky don’t get preyed on, and you’re both good men.”

“We’re also stubborn, cynical, and more than a little beastly,” simpered Steve.

You looped your arm with his, nudging him with your head.

“You two aren’t beastly. You’re lovely as a prince and Bucky looks crafted by the finest sculptor.”

Steve made a face. “Sculptor?”

“Shucks, Princess—you’re making me blush.”

Bucky sidled up between you, grinning. You yelped in surprise.

“O-oh! Apologies, I didn’t mean to be so brazen.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,” he winked. “I’m quite flattered, sweetheart.”

“I—”

“Bucky,” interrupted Steve, clearing his throat. “Are you certain about this? You might know them, but…”

“They’re safe, don’t worry. I wouldn’t put you two in danger when you’ve already got such a knack for it.”

“That’s rich, considering the company you keep.”

“I know, right?” Bucky grinned. “I sure know how to attract the punks.”

You beamed at their teasing, further leaning into Steve. He pulled you into his side, rubbing your shoulder.

“Hold onto your valuables,” called Clint. “This is a rough crowd.”

“Good idea. Gimme the stuff,” said Bucky.

“What? No. I can hold it,” Steve insisted.

“You’ll get pickpocketed before we set foot inside.”

“And you won’t?”

“No, I won’t,” huffed Bucky. “Hand it over. I’ll give it back as soon as we’re in the room.”

Steve grunted, grumpily forking over the satchel. Bucky tucked it into his vest.

“Stay close,” he murmured. “We don’t know who’s listening.”

"Do you think there are spies?" you whispered.

"I really don't know, princess. But I wouldn't rule it out."

You got to the inn without much hassle. The rooms were run down and obviously the cheapest option available. But it was shelter for the night and that needed to be enough for now.

"Eat light," Natasha said in a tone that made you unsure if she was joking or not. "This is the last of our gold."

She set down bowls of stew in front of you and Steve. Shrouded under their cloaks, Clint and Natasha appeared human. The innkeeper barely cast them a glance. You and Steve, however, had drawn his attention as well as that of the stray guests quietly chatting. They stared until the door shut behind you.

"Gods," groaned Bucky. "Steve, take off the chainmail."

"I need to be ready for any danger!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and plucked Steve's shoulder pads off. "You look ridiculous. The nearest kingdom is no less than three days’ trip and you’re clomping around like you’ve raided the village.”

“Oh, and your leather coat isn’t obnoxious? It’s June.”

“I have poor circulation,” Bucky sniffed, then peeled off Steve’s chestplate.

“Hey!”

“Quit your whining, buttercup. You can keep the boots and belt.” He winked. “Or don’t.”

"Come along, little princess," said Natasha, beckoning you with one finger, claws away. "Those rags won't do. I've got better for you."

You glanced at Bucky, who nodded. Steve stepped forward.

"I'll be right here, Y/N," he said. "Yell if you need anything."

"She'll be fine," Natasha said lightly. "Promise I'll play nice. James?"

Bucky reluctantly followed Clint to the door. "We're going to go find some means of passage. Stay put. That means you too, Steve."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I know you have trouble following directions, dearest. Wanted to make myself clear."

"You really are an asshole, huh?"

"The biggest," he winked.

You took the pack from the table, handing it to Bucky. His eyes widened.

"Princess, what—"

"I trust you. I know you'll be able to get a good price for them. It's not like I have any use for them now."

"We can find another way," he began, but you shook your head.

"Use what you need. I want to help. And if you need my necklace…"

"Now, what'd I say 'bout that?" he tutted. "Looks better on you."

"We should go," Clint urged. "We have to check to make sure you three weren't followed."

"We weren't," Bucky huffed. "I checked."

"Right. Well, better to be safe. Who knows what happened while you were busy mooning over your guests."

"I was not—"

Their bickering carried on after the door shut. You let Natasha lead you into her room. Primly, you sat on the corner of the hay-stuffed mattress, trying not to wince at the hard straw.

"It's no palace chambers," she said as she dug through her pack.

"No, no, it's—thank you. For your hospitality."

She rose, smirking at you. "There's that famous royal benevolence I've heard so much about. Nearly sliced you open and you're thanking me for straw."

"I—well, you didn't have to take us in."

"No, I didn't. James is a friend, though, and you two are harmless. No scales off my back."

"Right," was all you said, feeling wildly out of place.

"Relax, Highness," Natasha crooned. "I'm not going to do anything to you. The necklace is all yours."

She tossed you a bundle of random clothing, letting you your privacy as you changed. The tunic was worn but soft. You had to adjust the trousers—none of the clothes were custom made for your body, but you managed.

"Decent," she approved, turning. "If you were handy with a sword, I might mistake you for a pirate queen."

"Pirate queen?"

"Oh, yes. James would make a fine pirate king, don't you think?"

"Wh—I-I don't know what you mean,” you spluttered.

"Of course. Mustn't anger your darling knight. Gods know he's already brimming with jealousy."

"Steve?" you balked. "Jealous of whom?"

"You can't be that dense, princess. Another pretty boy crashes into your life with his swashbuckling feats and your knight is raring to duel him for your hand. It's all very predictable."

"Steve isn't jealous," you argued, voice a whisper. "He and I have been best friends since childhood. It would be silly to be jealous."

"I agree wholeheartedly. But love is a fickle muse. Makes men do mutton-headed things." She rolled her eyes. "Never saw the appeal of it, personally."

"Aren't you and Clint…?"

Her look made it clear you were overstepping but she answered anyway.

"Clint and I are partners. It's different. We've known each other so long, he's like an extension of myself. I care for him more than anything. But there's none of that foolish posturing like your buffoons do. When you've been alive as long as I have, you tend to see things differently."

"Love can be a great many things," you decided.

"Yes," Natasha smiled; a tiny, genuine peek of teeth. "It can."

You left the room. Steve was exactly where he'd promised he'd be. He searched your body for new marks, satisfied when there were none.

"Don't trust me with your princess?" Natasha simpered.

"No," Steve replied flatly.

"Pooh. We had a lovely chat. Perhaps she'll invite me for tea."

You sat beside Steve, shoulders touching. Immediately, you felt at ease. Natasha busied herself with sharpening an already very sharp dagger. Soon, the shwing of metal was the only sound.

"You should try to get some rest," Steve murmured.

"Hard to sleep," you replied.

Between your kingdom catching aflame and being threatened by snake-women, sleep wasn't exactly at the top of your list. Steve seemed to understand—he always did, always so in tune with you, your Steve—and let you be.

"So," began Natasha, setting the dagger down. "Pierce was your kingdom's advisor. Didn't know that."

"Yes," you replied hesitantly. "For nearly a decade."

"Wow. He's been hiding out there for a long time."

"Hiding?"

"Oh, sure. Pierce is a nasty piece of work. He's made a lot of enemies."

“You know him?” asked Steve.

Her eyes flicked to him. “Many of us do. And we know of your father too, Your Highness. He’s goaded the other kingdoms to shun creatures of magic.”

“I am not my father,” you said. “Everybody should live peaceably.”

"Hm. Still, it’s not as bad as Pierce. His abuse of our kind is heinous.”

“Abuse?”

Natasha pulled her hood past her neck. Your heart sank at the cracked scales, torn and scarred over.

“I’m sorry,” you offered. “I had no idea.”

“Why would you,” she dismissed, pulling her hood back up. “It's not your concern.”

“It is,” you argued. “It involves the well-being of people. Maybe my people, maybe not. But even so, they, and you, deserve kindness.”

She stared at you so long that you turned away, nervous.

“You’ve lost everything," she said. "Yet you still care for others.”

“I haven’t lost everything,” you replied. “I am not alone. And neither are you.”

“I can see why James likes you.”

“How do you two know each other?” asked Steve.

“You ask a lot of questions, Steve.”

“I know.”

She considered him. “Unfortunate circumstances.”

“Meaning?” he pushed.

Natasha’s smile turned brittle. “Meaning it's not my story to tell. I'm sure you'll learn one day. Whether he wants you to or not."

Steve didn't ask any more questions. As the oil of the lamp burned, your eyelids started to feel heavy. Leaning against Steve was comfortable. He was soft without his armor, though still solid.

"Stevie?" you whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." He squeezed your arm. You were slotted beside him, head on his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid," you confessed in the dim light.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of everything. What if we can never go back? What if my father is…" You winced.

"We will," he promised. "We will go back. I will make sure of it. And whatever happens, you've got me. Always."

You sat up, peering down at where Steve was on his back. The reflection of light shone in his eyes.

"Do you like Bucky?"

Steve blinked. "What?"

"I like him," you continued. "And I wish you would too."

Your eyes met. Steve looked away.

"I'm glad he cares for you. As I do."

"But do you like him?" you pressed.

"He's fine. I've misjudged him, I know."

You lay back down. When your hand slipped into Steve's, he met your gaze again.

"You're my best friend," you said. "You're always my best. Okay?"

Steve lifted your hand to his lips, touch feather-light. Your heart hammered in your chest.

"Sleep.”

This time, Bucky awoke you. The lamp was nearly out.

"You alright?" he whispered.

You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eyes. It was nearly dawn; had he and Clint been out all night?

"I got us a carriage," Bucky said. "But we need to leave now if we want a ride."

"You were gone a long time," you yawned, gently moving Steve's arm off of your waist.

"I know. Clint and I…" Bucky made an odd face. "We ran into a little trouble. Some folks aren't so accepting of magic creatures."

The amber stone in Bucky's ring glowed in the dark. It almost looked like it was moving.

"Is everything okay?" you asked, unable to take your eyes off the ring.

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat.

"Everything's fine. You three were…?" He raised a brow.

"Yes. Natasha was hospitable."

He chuckled. "Well, that's a word nobody's ever used to describe her. Good."

Bucky lightly shoved at Steve's feet, jostling him.

“Up and at ‘em, handsome. Got us a carriage.”

“Huh?” Steve asked. “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you said, resting a hand on his ribs. “We’re off to the next kingdom.”

You moved quickly after that. At least you wouldn’t draw any attention in your new clothes. You were a new woman—but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

Natasha and Clint agreed to take care of Bucky’s ship while he was away. Steve helped you into the carriage while the others chatted, too low for you to hear.

“They must be good friends,” you said.

Steve only hummed.

Natasha nodded sagely at you, a truce of sorts. You returned the gesture and smiled. You thought you saw a peek of teeth from her.

“Minimal stops, right?” Bucky asked the driver, climbing in. “We’re kind of in a hurry.”

“Of course, sir,” said the driver, staring at you. “Only the best.”

You took off, you and Steve on one side and Bucky on the other, back facing the driver. You’d been in carriages plenty of times, and were familiar with the jostling and bumpy roads, especially in the town square back home.

“So what’s this king like, princess?” Bucky wanted to know.

“I don’t really know. My father didn’t let me get too close to politics. I met him once when I was very young. And now I realize I don’t know all that much about what goes on. I’d no idea about the abuse magic creatures faced.”

“Nor did I,” Steve admitted, looking guilty. “They deserve better.”

“Natasha’s passionate about the cause,” Bucky said. “A lot of people suffered under oppressive regimes. Tale as old as time.”

You leaned forward, full of fire. “When I return, I will make a change.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I believe you, princess.”

Suddenly, the carriage lurched to a stop. You’d been traveling a few hours now, and shouldn’t have stopped until at least nightfall. Peering out the window, you could see nothing but wilderness for miles.

“Driver, why did we stop?” Steve called.

No reply.

Bucky met your eyes and put a finger to his lips. You nodded. Gravel crunching under boots drew your attention to the right side of the carriage.

“Driver?” Bucky tried.

The door swung open. The driver was grinning crazily and clutched a tiny sack that looked kind of like a tea bag.

“A princess shouldn’t be so far from home,” he cackled, dangling the bag.

“Shit!” Bucky yelled. “Get out, get out!”

Steve moved on instinct, leg shooting out and knocking the carriage door shut. It flew into the driver, knocking him backwards.

“Take her!” Steve ordered, drawing his sword.

“Don’t let him touch you with the hex!” Bucky warned.

He pulled you out the other side. You went to grab your things but something sparked beneath the carriage, and suddenly the back erupted in flames. That spooked the horses, who took off, dragging a withering carriage behind them.

“Leave it!” Bucky said, dragging you around towards the wilderness. “Steve!”

Steve drew his sword back, covered in blood. Your stomach lurched, and you turned your face into Bucky’s arm so you wouldn’t see the unconscious body on the ground. He accepted you, gently patting your back.

“That’s great,” Steve grunted as you went into the woods. “No horses either?”

“No,” Bucky grimaced. “But if we follow this path, we should be able to make it to the next kingdom over. It’ll take at least three or four days.”

“I’m terribly tired of running from things on fire,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry, princess. If I’d known, truly—”

“It’s alright, Bucky,” you said. “You got us here in one piece.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, then slipped off his amber ring. He put it on your thumb so it wouldn’t slip off.

“The driver had magic. Terrible magic. I don’t know what we’ll encounter here but… I need you to keep this on at all times. Okay?”

You stared at the glittering stone. “What does it do?”

Bucky hesitated. “It’s… a good luck charm. Helps in battle.”

“I’m no good in a fight,” you frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. Seems like you two have your share of spirit.”

You grinned. “Steve more than I.”

“Right. Like I’m the one who smuggled a pirate right under the king’s nose,” Steve snarked.

You stuck your tongue out, bumping his hip. He rolled his eyes. His fingers caught yours, gently intertwining.

“Everything okay?” he murmured.

“I’m alright. Just…”

You made a fist with your other hand, rubbing your forefinger over the ring. You glanced back at where the carriage was, then opened your hand. The stone blazed on, as steady as when you’d first seen it on Bucky at the marketplace.

“You were right,” you decided.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah.” You tucked your ringed hand into your pocket. “People are never what they seem.”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #royalty au #fantasy au #on wings of fate

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Text

Make the dust fly

dark!Steve Rogers x female reader; dark!Captain Rogers x fairy reader

Author’s Note: This is a dark retelling (with a wicked twist) of a Peter Pan fairytale, for @boxofbonesfic “Once Upon A Time” challenge and 10k milesestone celebration - once again, congratulations!

summary: You’ve always been loyal to Peter and to his group of rascals, fierce in the way you protect them. So when the bloodthirsty Captain Rogers is close to catching your friends, your fairy heart bursts with courage and you place yourself between them. Little did you know that Captain was never after Peter. It was always about you…

warnings: dark!Steve Rogers; dub-con (bordering on non-con); captivity; stocks/pillory; spanking; size kink; forced orgasm; explicit sexual content; mentions of drug use;

Reader is a fairy, Peter’s sassy Tinkerbell, but in my take on this universe fairies aren’t that tiny tiny. They’re “regular size”, but definitely smaller than Captain Rogers.

Also, there’s a light hint at WS!Steve, regarding his prosthetic (after all, he’s serving as Captain Hook in this).

word count: 5.8k

Though the sun spilled through the half-broken window of the old sanctuary, the splashes of colors softening the stone floors where stained glass-work cast its reflection, the soothing atmosphere was dispersing.

Fear and charging darkness chased you through the corridors as the pirates’ trap closed in on you.

How did they even find this place? It was an abandoned little playground which you found a few months ago and to which you brought Peter and the boys, Wanda too. Her stories gained a new dimension of life when told here.

It should be safe! So far from the seas and rocky beaches where the pirates often lurked. Far from the lush green forests, which Captain seemed to roam alone with ease, as if he wasn’t a bastard limited to the seas, but a nomad who found his place anywhere he wished. Anywhere his power allowed him.

And he had power in bulks.

Elders of your fairy clan have spoken of him with fear. You always thought it to be because of his ruthless mastery over the seas and the merciless determination with which he hunted Peter.

Somehow, he found Peter even here, so deep into the land it felt impossible to meet him and his crew here. But the warning came crisp and clear as MJ ran inside the sanctuary, breathless and panicked, yelling about pirates securing nets outside and preparing to storm in.

Nets so they could trap all of you, even if your dust gave your friends the ability to fly.

“Go, Peter!” You hissed at him, handing him a small pouch with gathered fairy dust.

“Take Wanda and leave through that tunnel we found last week!” You urged them. “Once outside, you’ll be able to fly off. They won’t be able to set up nets over a cliff!”

“Come with us.” Peter caught your wrist. “We can all fly.”

You shook your head, yanking your hand from Peter’s grip. That spontaneous escape would work on most, but not on Captain Rogers.

As rash and reckless many men were, he was a brilliantly strategic son of a bitch. The fact he somehow found you here, was able to build up a quick trap, spoke of how dangerous it was to underestimate him.

Somehow- someone had to play decoy, so the others could save themselves.

You knew Peter managed to get free in the past, always so creative in improvising and audacious enough to follow through with quite crazy plans, but this time it felt more dire. Your instinct told you it was no playful risk, but could be the end to all ends.

Captain Rogers wanted Peter, you were merely an annoyance he’d wave off like a fly.

“Go! Go now!” You pushed Peter toward the secret exit. “I’ll meet you later.” You vowed, determined to squirm your way out of the pirate’s grasp.

When the group started squeezing into the tunnel, you took a deep breath and fluttered your wings out. You flew up to one of the partially broken windows and peeked over the red stained glass that used to be a part of a rose.

Hook’s crew was indeed outside, in a formation that looked threatening and discouraging to any rebellion. Well, it made your rebellious streak flare. After all, fairies weren’t known for mellow, compliant behavior. You certainly weren’t that kind of a fairy. Nor that kind of woman.

Hook. You shook your head as you thought of a rather cruel nickname the boys gave Captain Rogers.

He lost his arm - there were various tales regarding the circumstances behind that. Some included a ridiculous brawl with a crocodile; another a power hungry demi god from the outerworld who turned into an alligator; other stories were about wars in far lands after which Rogers’ body washed up on the shores nearby, already lacking an arm.

Whatever the truth was, each tale had a significant truth to it which your friends liked to omit - Rogers survived. Perhaps even won.

It should keep you all scared, not underestimate him as a pathetic, crazy pirate with a prosthetic.

There was a hook attached to his prosthetic many years ago, but it was long gone, replaced with a functioning metal arm whose endurance and strength matched Rogers’ general power.

Still, Peter and the boys snickered at the Hook nickname.

Most of the time you called him Rogers or Captain Rogers, only when you were truly pissed, or scared of losing your friends, did you call him Hook; and many other degrading names.

He stood there, so close to the entrance. His head was slightly bowed as he talked to a man beside him. Sun streaks seemed to catch in his blond hair, his features bathed in warm glow. It annoyed you that someone so ruthless and despicable dared to look so beautiful, so stunning. Light and magic of the world were for fairies like you, to shimmer in your nearly translucent wings and burst full of color as you shed dust. It shouldn’t caress a man like Captain Rogers, making him appear innocent-like.

No, he was not innocent.

He was a bottomless pit of darkness and all things wicked, only luring with his handsome veneer. Like those flowers Tiger Lily once showed you - they were so lush and aromatic, but when an insect touched their petals they’d trap it inside and feed on it.

Not only because Rogers had this sick obsession with Peter, trying to hunt him down, but there were other instances that turned your blood cold.

He kidnapped three mermaid younglings, taking them far away over the seas and selling them as an attraction, or maybe as pets. He spread bodies of his enemies on the rocky shore, arranging their corpses in wooden galways, leaving them for animals to feed on.

There was a tale of Echo, one of the Tribe’s people, who disappeared unexpectedly. Rumors of her fate laid at Captain Rogers’ feet. Yet there was no gossip of her potential whereabouts. And the Tribe, for some unknown reason, still occasionally traded with the pirates.

Rage at his conscienceless acts made you itch for your daggers. Though you probably couldn’t hit him from a distance.

So you flew up slightly higher, to get a better look at the siege, seek a hole through which you could escape and show them the middle finger.

At that moment Captain turned his head and looked up, as if he sensed he was being watched. His gaze zeroed in on you.

Stupidly, really, but you stuck out your tongue at him when your eyes met.

Rogers cocked his head to the side, his gaze slid from you to the building then back up. He was assessing something, calculating. Suddenly he turned on his heel and marched straight inside.

Heart jumping to your throat in fear, you flew down.

It dawned on you that he had to be considering where your group may hide within the sanctuary’s corridors, but your little peek gave him the answer right away. It meant he was aiming straight to your place of hiding.

Which was good, you reminded yourself. It drew attention away from Peter and Wanda and the rest. You had to stand your ground.

You couldn’t just fly around like a butterfly anyway, since a few months ago it turned out that pirates have shipped in some new kind of weapon that splutters rapid fire at any object in motion. It would hit you at some point, even if you’d manage to dodge most of the shots.

Taking Rogers on in a fight was a task near impossible, but you were fast, agile and quite good with your daggers in close distance. Maybe you’d be able to surprise him with a nick, or two, and use the distraction to escape. The tunnel Peter and the rest went through was so narrow that Captain’s broad, large frame would never fit through it.

You drew out your daggers, clenching your fingers around the ornately carved wood, as you heard booming steps approaching. Captain Rogers barged in, his pace slowing as he entered the chamber fully.

A small group of his pirates followed, but when they realized there’s no one beside you inside, they stopped in their tracks.

You felt a surge of victory. You tilted your chin up defiantly, a smirk curving your lips as you threw Captain a challenging look.

“Peter’s not here.” You called out, triumphantly. “You’re not gonna get him, old man.”

It was an overused jab that had more spunk when Peter yelled it. His youth could rub it in for a man of Rogers’ age (truthfully, you did not know his actual age, but he was at least twice the age of Peter and Wanda).

You? Fairies aged differently. You may as well be his age, if not older.

Captain Rogers didn’t seem enraged at your challenge. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his face remained impassive as he stared you down.

He motioned at his people to stand down behind then slowly drew out his sword. The sound of a sharp blade leaving its sheath pierced the silence that fell over the sanctuary.

Your fists clenched, the hilt of your dagger digging painfully into your delicate skin. You drew your wings together and rested them against your back to gain more momentum as you charged at him.

You were fast and sneaky, easily avoiding Captain’s first cuts. Unfortunately for you, his large size wasn’t an obstacle to his agility. You learned it quickly as his moves sped up and he matched you in your rapid twists. His bulky frame was surprisingly graceful in a fight.

With a snarl, you managed to cut his shoulder, dark shirt parting where your blade nicked it. Blood soaked that spot, but the Captain didn’t even hiss, nor did he falter in his steps.

He attacked you with ferocity, though you didn’t notice that each of his moves was to disable you rather than kill you. Too immersed in your own rage, you slashed like a caged animal while he remained a sophisticated predator toying with his food.

You twisted around, swaying your arm in a half circle in an attempt to slice his other arm. A sudden pain in your wings pulled you backward. He caught your wings in his metal fingers, delicate filaments nearly crushing under the pressure. With a yelp, you bowed your back to lessen the tugging pain, flailing your arms around to lash at anyone who dared to approach.

Captain Rogers hit your fist with the broad side of his sword, the strength behind it hard enough to make your fingers seize in pain. You dropped the dagger. Before it clattered to the floor, he did the same to your other hand, leaving you weaponless.

Another tug at your wings pulled you backwards to him, then his hand caught one of your wrists, wrenching your arm behind your back.

He had you locked, your side pinned to him as he forced your back to bow further, your face tilting up to him as you did.

Striking blue eyes, reminding you of the electric clear sky after stormy clouds disperse, stared down at you. A cold victory shimmered in his irises.

“I don’t care about getting Peter, little sprite.” Captain’s deep, velvety voice resounded over the rapid fluttering of your heart.

“It was always about you.”

His dark chuckle caused your heart to stop, dread swallowing you in a cold wave.

You never expected to become a part of his sinister plans; your mind filled with horrifying images of being shipped away to unknown lands, sold like a piece of meat, or forced into labor to survive. You were ready to die, if it meant saving your friends, but you never considered a worse fate awaiting.

One of the Captain's crewmen brought a set of shackles, which they locked around your hands. Usually you were able to get out of any regular cuffs, but these seemed to be tailored for a fairy’s slimmer wrists. Attached to it was a heavy chain, the end of which Captain Rogers wrapped around his metal hand.

“You can walk, or you can fly, I don’t care.” He said to you, yanking on the chain and forcing you to stumble into his chest.

With his other hand he gripped a fistful of your hair and loomed over you.

“But you will follow me, sprite. Or another chain will go around your neck and I’ll drag you by it all the way to my ship.”

He led you out of the sanctuary, your feet scurrying after his big strides. Once outside, you spread your wings, helping yourself catch up to Captain’s pace by floating in the air. A small group of his pirates joined you, trading beside and behind. The rest stayed to take down the nets and pack everything.

It really seemed that Captain got exactly what he wanted and you had no idea why it was you.

You looked for any familiar faces that might lurk in the thickness of the jungle, or hide behind rocks, as the pirates led you to the beach where the boats awaited. Anyone, who could carry the news of your capture to Peter, or to your fairy clan.

However, all forms of life seemed to scatter from the Captain’s path.

Perhaps it was the right thing to do. You should’ve abandoned your bold, fierce courage - or stupidity, really - and hide from him, like all reasonable creatures did.

As some of the elders of your clan sighed, you spent too much time joining Peter’s reckless adventures, forgetting your survival instinct.

At the shore, Captain brought you with him into one of the boats. Only two other pirates joined you, their task to row the boat toward the monstrous, black ship out in the open sea. Rogers made you sit down on the bottom of the boat, curled between his spread legs.

He ran a finger down the back of your neck and to where your wings grew out of your back. You hunched forward, then turned your head and glared at him. His mouth curved in a cocky smirk as he teased the outline of your shimmering wing.

You clenched your jaw and hung your head down, feigning pure anger to cover the hint of trembling.

Fairy’s wings were exceptionally sensitive to touch. The stroke of Captain’s fingers evoked a sensation contrary to pain or discomfort. That side of your wings, when teased, would cause your nipples to stiffen and a fire to bloom in your abdomen.

You would never let Hook know about that. He’d use it to humiliate you, or to think of an even worse fate for you. You were sure he had some depraved, disgusting buyers in the dark human offshores.

Once on the ship, the crew parted as Captain Rogers prowled toward his suite. Their eyes leering as they watched you trot behind him. You swallowed, but tilted your chin high. You even sent a glare at one or two of the pirates.

Your breath stuttered in your chest, your eyes growing big, when among the crew you noticed a dark haired woman. Tight braids adorned with beads and a pirate’s outfit on her body, but you recognized Echo. Or someone who looked so much like her. She sent you a dismissive look, as if she wasn’t bothered by your presence. She definitely didn’t seem to be in distress.

You had no time to wonder about Echo’s ties to the pirate crew, because Rogers opened the door to his cabin and pushed you inside. Heavy wood closed behind you with a booming finality.

The first thing you saw was a long table with maps, plans and navigating instruments. Books lined shelves on the sides. A few trinkets glinted in the dimmed darkness.

The cabin was separated in half by a heavy curtain. When Captain led you around the table toward it and parted the folds of the embroidered fabric, you froze on the spot.

That you’d see the private, sleeping part of his quarters was something you expected. But it was the thing beside his big bed, lined with layers of soft looking linens and silks, that made you stumble a step back.

A large, human sized birdcage hung beside the bed. Pillows fluffed atop its bottom didn’t change the fact it was a scary, humiliating prison. Undoubtedly made for you.

“I’d rather be tossed in the brick with other slaves you’re about to sell.” You gritted your teeth, yanking on the chain which Rogers’ held in his hand.

“Sell?” He approached you, a cruel smile on his pretty lips.

He traced a single finger along your cheek and you flinched away from his touch, despite how strangely soothing it felt for your rattled heart.

“Sprite, why would I sell something that can bring me regular profit rather than just a one time gain?” Captain chuckled.

Not the least discouraged by your body leaning away, he slid his hands down your arms. The fact his touch was gentle and not a forced manhandling, somehow made the disgust in you grow.

“See, I’m well aware that fairy dust gives more than just the ability to fly for a few minutes.” He opened your shackles, dropping them and the chain to the floor with a loud clunk. “Though, that in itself would sell greatly.”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing tightly and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I know that fairy dust gives an euphoric rush and enhances strength, speed, and senses. Even if the effect is short, it's a drug most sought after.”

You heard of it - of what your dust gave people. Peter and your friends gained from it, but for joy and freedom. Others wanted the power of it for more nefarious deeds. And, as it always was with people, they wanted more and more and more.

“I plan on reaping the benefits of selling it regularly. And you, little sprite, are my source.”

With a wicked grin, Rogers kissed you on the lips. A short, harsh thing. Then he pulled back, laughing at your stunned face.

It took you a second to regain your train of thought as your brain scrambled - both at his admission and the kiss. Ire rose, rebellion against aiding the damned pirate in any way bubbling hot like lava.

“Ha!” You scrunched your nose and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not shedding a single flake of dust for you, asshole. Keep me locked as long as you want, you’re not getting any.”

You expected a flash of anger. Hell, you wanted to annoy him! You wanted to push all his buttons, rip them free and stuff them down his throat so he chokes.

But he remained calm, amused even. Studied you with a head tilted to the side, corners of his mouth still lifted upward in a smile.

Then, in a split second, he had a hand behind your neck, fingers gripping tightly.

He dragged you across the room, toward a wooden pillory which you didn’t notice earlier. You growled out your protest, heels digging into the floor planks as you fought against Captain's grip. It was futile. He overpowered you easily.

With the help of his metal hand, he had you bending down. Your neck settled into a bigger half-moon in the middle of the pillory. He forced your hands to rest in the smaller circles. Then locked the upper part, trapping you in. A padlock clicked in place.

Your wings fluttered wildly, your feet lifting off the floor, but it changed nothing. He had you bound in an uncomfortable, humiliating position.

He crouched in front of you, blue eyes staring into yours with a dark glint.

“Ah, sprite. You underestimate me.” His smirk grew and a dreadful feeling settled deep in your gut.

“I knew you wouldn’t shed dust for me willingly. I also know that there is another instance when a fairy sprinkles it. Uncontrollably, I’d say.”

No! He couldn’t know that. Nobody did.

That was a secret of the fairies, shared with absolutely no one. You never told Peter or anyone else. You knew no other fairies would reveal it, no matter how strongly they trusted human friends.

Yet everything inside you sensed that the Captain spoke the truth. He knew the truth.

“I- I have no idea what you are talking about.” You huffed out, but you suspected your bluff was easily caught.

“Of course you do, sweet little sprite.” Rogers chuckled.

He straightened and slowly walked around you. He didn’t even reprimand you for struggling in the stockade, trying to somehow break the sturdy wood. He was this secured in his dominance over you.

There was a long, silent pause, heightening your trepidation since you were unable to see what he was doing behind you.

A big, warm hand rested right above your wings, then teasingly slowly dragged between them all the way to your ass. A brush along your wings was enough to send a faint zap of sensation to your core. Rogers flipped your green dress up, exposing your butt. He splayed his hand over one buttock, warming up your skin.

He pulled his hand away. A second later a loud smack resounded, evoking a burning sting and causing you to squeak.

His fingers spread over the spot, rubbing soothingly and turning the pain into pleasant throbbing. He draped himself over you as he looked down at your bowed head from above the pillory.

“A fairy sprinkles dust when they’re aroused.” Rogers recited the most intimate secret.

“Well, you don’t arouse me!” Your fingers clenched into fists as you hissed at him.

“Don’t I?” Captain hummed.

With his foot he kicked your legs wider apart. Next his hand landed with a softer slap over your pussy. He kept his fingers there. Held them pressed against you, starting a slow circular motion that drew out wetness you shouldn’t be presenting at his proximity.

A whimper escaped your mouth as you felt your clit throb beneath his fingers. The thin fabric of your bottoms growing a wet spot.

“There she is.” Captain drawled in pleasure, tracing his metal finger along the back of your neck.

Dust glittered on your skin, the tiny flakes clinging to his finger as he touched your skin.

His touch disappeared, leaving you with a mixture of relief and confusing longing, as Rogers moved around to face you again.

He crouched down, showing you his finger that now shined with fairy dust.

“You may think I'm repulsive, sprite, but I will do things to your body that will make you burst in fountains.” He traced your lips with that finger, withdrawing it just in time before you thought to bite it (even if your teeth would crack against the metal of his prosthetic).

“No, I won’t!” You sneered, struggling in your bonds.

Captain’s face leaned closer, his breath puffing against your lips as he spoke:

“I’ll have you creaming and dusting yourself like a pathetic, needy slut. And you’ll learn to beg for it.”

He stood up, once again leaving you clueless about what he was about to do to you. The stocks prevented you from movement, but also blocked out any way of catching in your peripheral vision what was happening behind it. No way for you to prepare yourself for whatever the Captain did.

He slid your green bottoms down your legs in one swift move. You shrieked and tried to kick him. A cold, metal grip crushed your ankle. Your bones rattled, the pressure of his hold warning you of how easily he could break you if he wished.

“Keep your feet on the floor, or I’ll shackle them too.” He barked, releasing your leg.

You considered kicking him again, but then your brain lost the ability to connect thoughts to motions as another slap jerked your body.

His hand met your bare skin now, the sting of it more intense. He gave you no pause as he began raining steady hits across your ass. Your body tensed, heat from the burning in your butt spreading in waves through your body. Perspiration shone on your skin, your breathing growing heavier.

Then his fingers teased along your parted folds, dipping into shameful wetness that dripped out of you.

You couldn’t comprehend how he managed that. The spanking has hurt, it shouldn’t rouse your body. Your position was humiliating. You were a captive against your will! And yet… Captain Rogers had you trembling with growing need.

“Nooo!” You moaned a protest when his fingers gathered your wetness and started circling your clit.

Your thighs tensed. You wanted nothing more but to close them and stop this madness, but Captain slotted himself between them, the fabric of his pants abrasive on your delicate skin.

“Yes, sprite.” He rubbed your nub harder. “Let it go.”

He watched, mesmerized, as your skin started glowing. A delicate shimmer at first that turned brighter as your arousal spiked. The higher he pushed you the more dust appeared. Your skin looked like it was covered in a layer of sweet glitter. Your wings seemed to be encrusted with crushed gems, sprinkles falling all around as your wings fluttered.

A single long, big finger slid into you, spearing through your tight walls. An intrusion that set everything inside you on fire, causing the fairy dust to fall all around as you seized in pleasure.

He kept pushing into you, even as you sagged. Pleading noises bubbled on your lips; for what, you weren’t even sure anymore. A second finger joined the first, stretching you. He curled them and the spot he nudged elicited another lewd moan from you.

Captain’s cool, metal hand touched the small of your back. Surprisingly gently this time. He slid his fingers up, teasing the underside of your wing. Silver metal of his prosthetic covered in the thick brilliance of your dust, sparkles of rainbow caught in the light.

He moved his hand further and gripped your wing a tad harder, not enough to cause pain though. That, combined with incessant thrusting of his fingers, toppled you over another peak.

You came with a hoarse cry, dropping your head low as dust fluttered from your fingers which clenched and straightened in spasm as you rode out your orgasm.

When he pulled out his fingers, a squelch of your sopping pussy humiliated you further. His metal hand gave your folds a little pat; you had to clench your jaw to stop another moan from falling out.

Captain remained quiet. No teasing words, no victorious jab.

You thought you heard him hum in delight. A silent pause stretched. Then a loud groan.

“Fuck.” His low, husky voice sent a shiver up your spine.

His steps sounded heavier as he moved, as if he suddenly gained more weight or strength. He squatted in front of you. Your head felt heavy as you slowly lifted it up to look at him.

His irises weren’t simply blue anymore. They mirrored a jeweled shimmer of fairy dust.

His skin seemed aglow, too. All of him pulsed with power.

“That I did not know, sweet sprite.” He said, wonder and hunger bursting a starlight in his eyes.

“That your juices are more potent than a whole bottle of fairy dust.” He licked his lips as if savoring the taste. “I merely sucked your slick off my fingers and the power that it gave me? Oh, sprite- I feel it charging through me like a lightning bolt.”

“A thimble of fairy dust gives a kick. A nice high with some enhanced perks for a short while. Your cream? It’s a storm in veins, sprite. A little lick and I’m a step from a god.”

“No! No, please, no, you can’t-” Your brain turned frantic, fear creeping up through your still softened with pleasure body.

If he told anyone of that, not only would your fate be chained to the gutter, but all the other fairies would be at risk. Hunted and ripped apart for limitless greed of monsters like Captain Rogers.

“Relax, little sprite.” His hand cupped your cheek, his voice almost soothing. His eyes, a galaxy of captivating darkness. “I have no intention of sharing this power with anyone. No, sweetling, I’ll be the only one you give it to.”

“The others will pay high for the dust you sprinkle around plentifully. But your sweet, tiny cunt? It belongs to me now.”

He leaned in, sealing your lips with his own. You tasted yourself on his tongue, your juices not having the same effect on you as it did on him, but the hunger of his kiss stirred something inside you.

He broke the kiss with a bite to your lip, which he soothed with a flick of his tongue. Then he was standing up and moving again, until he nestled himself between your thighs.

His hands squeezed your buttocks, spreading them to allow him even easier access to your glistening, puffy folds. He licked you with a broad stroke of his tongue; the sensation made you shudder, your hips tilting upwards in an involuntary invitation.

He devoured you, mouthing on your pussy as if it was the juiciest, sweetest fruit. He lapped up each trickle of your slick, forced his tongue inside then swirled it around your clit. Bristles of his beard brushed your skin, adding to the hazy pleasure. You knew you’ll have burns from how ferociously he ate you out.

You came into his mouth, despite trying to hold it off. Your whimpers mixed with Captain’s groan of delight.

He licked you clean, wasting no single drop, then trailed hot open mouthed kisses across your inner thigh and over your ass. Your legs shook as he straightened up. Rustling of fabric reached your ears, your dizzy brain recognizing clothes being taken off.

“Might be a tight fit, sprite.” Captain’s husky chuckle made your pussy clench.

Your weak whine unfurled into a wanton moan as the tip of his big cock stretched your opening.

Captain Rogers was much larger than you in size overall, you never considered before that he may be proportionately bigger in every detail of his body. The breach of his cock felt nearly painful, yet his girth seemed to rub against spots which were never touched properly before.

He kept pushing in, in, in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He pierced into you deeper, filing you completely.

“You taste amazing and you feel exquisite, too.” He gripped your hip with his metal hand and the curve of your upper wing with his flesh one as he bottomed out.

“Ah, sprite! You’re so tight around me I may want to stay inside forever.”

He ran his fingers along the curve of your wing, sending little shocks straight to your core. Your pussy fluttered, sipping more slick.

“You like that, sweetling?” Captain purred, stroking your wing again, at the same time rocking his hips into you slowly. “Yeah, you do. I’ll make you see fireworks. Turn you into a little sparkling firework, too.”

Tightening his hold on you, he withdrew. Then slammed back into you with force, evoking your cry.

He fucked you with steady, deep thrusts, speeding up when your skin covered in new sheen of dust. Glittering powder seeped through his fingers where they rested on your wing; speckles of dust flaked from your thighs and ass with each sharp slap of his hips.

Your whole body tensed, wings spreading wide and feet nearly flying off the floor as his cock drove into a particularly sensitive spot. You saw stars bursting white in your eyes and your whole body glimmered with a powdered rainbow.

Your cries grew louder, then your voice scraped raw after another, and another climax. Still, Captain was fucking you through it. You had no idea if it was him alone, or if your magic that he gorged on made him able to last so long.

When he finally finished, spilling inside you with a loud, beastly grunt, you were sweaty and shiny, and completely boneless. You nearly dropped to your knees when Captain slipped out and let go of you.

With a breathless chuckle, he wrapped an arm under you and pulled you up. With his other hand he opened the padlock and released you from the stockade. You fell into his arms half-consciously, even your wings felt heavy, dropping down, too tired to make any motion.

“See, little sprite, you dusted for me in abundance.” He mocked your earlier rebellion as he scooped you up.

The floor was covered in a thick layer of sparkling dust. Enough to fill a few vials.Your small feet left an imprint in the shimmery drizzle in the spot from which Captain picked you up.

You had no strength to fight him when Rogers carried you across the suite. He opened the birdcage and sat you down on fluffy pillows. Arranged your body quite comfortably in your new, narrow prison. He locked it and swayed the cage with a gentle push.

He watched you with clear, untired eyes (still sparkling with extreme power), while you peeked at him through heavy eyelids. You saw him wrap his fingers around his softening cock, gathering your mixed juices and bringing his hand up to his face. He licked it clean, his irises anew igniting with power.

His skin glowed, though you weren’t sure if it’s only the sweat from your coupling, or if your magic thrummed beneath his skin so vividly. His muscles looked to be carved from marble. Veins curved in places which you never paid attention to in any man.

He looked like a god he claimed to feel like.

A beautiful monster who you should despise for the rest of your life, no matter how your body shivered under his touch.

“Rest now, sprite.” Captain cooed as your head leaned against one of the bars. “If you prove to be good, you might earn yourself bed rights someday.”

He swayed the cage again, rocking you to sleep. Despite your effort to stay awake, to not waste a second and start forming a plan of escape, drowsiness was taking over your exhausted body.

You fell asleep as you watched Captain pull on his pants - and nothing else - and bend over the map table, scribbling something down. A new course to lands where he could profit from your dust.

Or doomed places where he could test the power that owning you gave him.

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