#Setting it into the timeline after he's met the Captain helps on that front at least haha - not quite so desperate

[sysig]

Back, beast >:0 (Patreon)

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

Dark prompt here for you:

Like AHWM, dark finds out how to get to the reader in ISWM, and tries to convince them that mark is no good. Maybe its a jump through a wormhole that turns black and white and has the blue and red hues? Idk lol

I was so emotional writing this gah 😩 but I love it. I hope you enjoy it!

With a sucking whoosh the Captain finds themselves once again inside the paradoxical power of the wormhole, plunging towards another universe, another story, another chance to choose their fate and the fate of the Invincible II. One can only imagine the wild wacky worlds that await them on the other—

The Narrator’s voice ceases, and you can’t help but be grateful. You were getting tired of having another voice in your head. You are hurling towards two portals, both impossible choices. How could you possibly know which one was correct? It was all left to random chance! It was unfair, it was rigged!

But before you can make this choice, the two portals converge before your eyes. You don’t have enough time to react as you are involuntarily pulled in. The normal electric blue and white spirals of the wormhole change. Swirls of red and cerulean mingle all around you, time itself glitches, and a loud ringing surrounds you, piercing your ears. What was happening? This was unlike anything you’d experienced yet in this never ending nightmare, which as both terrifying and relieving.

You crash into a void, black as space and just as cold, but you’re not spinning to your death as you had in other timelines. You could stand and breathe, looking around you for any sign of life.

“I couldn’t give you a choice this time.”

A form glitches into existence. A man in a white suit. Mark? He looks so much like him, but there’s something deadly in his eyes. He’s poised like a predator ready to strike.

And yet…he’s familiar. A spark of recognition alights old, dusty memories. You can’t piece them together yet, but you know, somehow, you and this man have met before.

“I almost didn’t break through,” he said, “He has constructed quite the story this time and put you through the ringer. Right, Captain?”

His words were strange and confusing, not mixing well with the remaining vertigo. He must have noticed this because you see his mouth tighten and jaw set.

“How many times have I repeated myself?” He says, taking a step closer. You backpedal, but you know there’s no where for you to go.

“How many times have we met,” his anger grew, the glitching around him increasing, the ringing behind his words pierced your ears. Your vision was blurry. There were several of him surrounding you voices coalescing, and then they vanished. It was as if his barely maintained shell was cracking.

“How many times have I ripped this facade apart for you?!”

A red flashing after image of him screaming, his hands curled like talons, eyes black appeared next to him. The next moment he’s right in front of you, shaking with rage.

“And yet every time you are as clueless as before about this game he’s playing!”

As suddenly as it happened, the violent glitching and ringing disappeared. He’s standing where he was again, straightening his tie, his wrath stuffed back into his shell. Your fear wakes you up.

Dark. You’re friend, your enemy. The villain of the story.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’ve simply given in. If your lost memory is a choice you make to keep living this lie.”

Emotions stir inside you. Joy and confusion and anger mixing and intoxicating you. You tremble, fists clenched at your sides. It all hits you at once like an unforgiving tidal wave. Words explode from you, tears stinging your eyes.

“You left me!”

He stares at you, his face solemn.

“I thought it best for your protection.”

“Bullshit!” You scream, “You said we were in this together. You promised!”

“I didn’t know how much control he had! I thought I could leave you safe in the mirror, safe from him until I could end him myself,” he glitches again, “I was coming back for you! Don’t you see how he’s using you?!”

“At least he’s been with me all these years!” You cry, “All these endless cycles…and all you could manage was interrupting the plot before he dragged me back!”

Dark scowls, closing his eyes and turning his head from you. Tears freely roll down your cheeks. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to be angrier. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t. You loved him. And he loved you. He had to, or he wouldn’t have tried reaching you over and over again.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he says softly.

You want to run to him. You forgive him. You’d forgive him a thousand times over.

“We played into his hands,” you say, defeated, “He got a sidekick and a villain.” You walk closer to him, staring sadly into his eyes, “I know you’re not Damien anymore. And I know you never will be again.”

His face twists, whether in anger or pain you don’t know.

“But you are still my friend. And I don’t care whether that’s wise or not.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but there’s a hint of emotion. Something of your best friend still lingering. You almost reach out to touch him, but you hear the unmistakable forming of a new wormhole behind you, feeling it’s irresistible pull. Time is up. Dark glares at the wormhole, a sign that Mark is calling you back to him, calling you back to the adventure at hand.

You manage a soft but sad smile as you and Dark are pulled farther and farther apart. And just before the wormhole closes, and you can still see him, you say:

“I’ll see you later, old friend.”

[ramp-it-up]

...And Forever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

AU: MCU A/U, after TFATWS

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Alternate MCU facts/timeline, lies, cursing, angst,  oral, (F, M receiving) fingering, spit play rank kink, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), sex on a pool table, semi-public sex, a special surprise, stalker-ish behavior, almost Dark!Steve? Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: I am an MCU nerd but not a timeline detail gal. Please forgive me if the timeline is off. This is an alternate universe and a work of fiction. Please have fun with it! This is the second part to Always.  Enjoy!

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

You opened your eyes to see that you were in what looked like a break room. There was a coffee machine, a round table with five chairs, a row of lockers, two Captain Americas, and a Winter Soldier.

There was some strange conversation going on.

“Then who gave me the shield at the lake…?”  

Sam was questioning Steve, but he stopped talking when you started moving around.  You must have still been in the wedding venue, because you saw the name of the historic building on various items in the room. 

You scowled up at Sam, Bucky and Steve.

You moved to sit up and Steve was at your side. “Easy…”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You squinted at Steve. His hair was shorter and he was clean shaven, but he was still gorgeous. Those blue eyes were full of concern. 

You raised your hand, and he held it, holding it and caressing it as you raised it to his face.

“Is it really you?”

Steve smiled ruefully at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You held his cheek and looked at him, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face. He smiled at you. 

You grabbed him and hugged him hard, and then pulled back again as he held you in his arms. He moved back and pursed those ruby red lips. 

You had this irresistible urge to...slap the shit out of him. And so you did.

The sound reverberated in the room. Steve just stared up at you, with that fucking beautiful face, and then smiled, rubbing his jaw as if it hurt. 

But you knew it didn’t. And you were tired of the bullshit.

Sam and Bucky moved to calm you down, but you were too quick for them, pacing to the other side of the room. 

“All of you can stay the hell away from me. Y’all have some fuckin nerve. Especially you, Steven.”  

Your Houston accent was shining through with your anger.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that was harsh. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You pointed at Steve.

“Fuck you.” 

You were seething, especially when he raised his eyebrow at your comment. But he quickly fixed his face when he saw the rage on yours. You looked at Sam, who just looked down, and at Bucky, who looked like he was in pain.  

Fuck thier feelings.

“I deserve your anger. I didn't tell…” Steve tried it. 

“You don’t deserve a got damn thing. Not even my anger.” 

Steve was stone faced at your vitriol. You were shaking, trying to control your emotions and not cry.  You were so hot. You fought to keep your voice steady.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out as a ragged whisper. But you knew everyone heard you.

Your voice was low, even, and scary. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes. Your own were brimming with tears.

“I thought you were dead and that they didn’t want to tell me.” 

You waved your hand at Bucky and Sam. And you waited until Steve looked you in the eyes again. 

“I thought you were in prison, that someone, on some alien star, forced you to play some sick gladiator games. Or that HYDRA was still around and they turned you into an agent for them. Or that you lost your memory in the blip. So many scenarios played in my mind, Steven.”

Steve knew better than to talk. This was his time to listen.

“But I never ever once thought that you chose this. Never thought it was your choice to leave and to stay away.”

“Listen…” Sam started speaking.

“Shut the fuck UP, Samuel.” 

If you had Bucky’s knives, all of them would be seriously injured right now.  

“You knew that he was alive and you didn’t tell me. Despite me begging for any kind of information.”  

Sam just pursed his lips and returned your glare.  You were right.

You went and stood in front of Bucky.

“James…” 

He looked at you, those pained eyes making your stomach flip.  

“How could you?  You knew?”

He just stared at you. Retreating into not speaking.

Steve spoke up.

“Yes, I left. Yes, it was my choice.  I thought I could… Well, let’s just say that hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t ever go back. I swore Sam and Buck to secrecy and I asked them to take care of you.  This all just got out of hand.  Didn’t it Buck?”

You watched Steve in disbelief and you swiveled your head toward Bucky and Sam again.

“You both lied to me. And Sam. Did you tell Steve to come back and ruin my life?”

Sam scoffed, offended. “No. I didn’t. S.H.I.E.L.D gave Steve quarterly updates.  You and Bucky happened so fast…” 

You ignored his explanation.

“But you knew exactly where he’d gone.”

“Yes.” Sam was cornered.

You turned back to Bucky. 

“I asked you a question earlier. Did you know?”

He nodded, imperceptibly.  “Doll… I…”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You knew?” Your heart was breaking even more than it was.

“Yes, but it’s complicated. He didn’t come back, at least not the way he left, and I thought it was a done deal. I thought he found…”

You interrupted him. 

“What. Happiness?” 

You turned back to Steve. “Is that what you were looking for, Steve? Happiness?”

“Sweetheart, you made me happy, I just had the chance to finally settle some unfinished business.”

You nodded.

“So James here took advantage of your little vacation to get with his best friend's girl while you explored your other options. Cool.”

It was not cool.

“Do you remember when you asked me if you could trust me, Steve?”  

He just gave a little smile and came to stand before you, looking down at you in that way of his.  He was trying to shake you. You were unshakeable. You raised your chin and looked right in his eyes.

“What you don’t understand is that you can’t pick and choose the pieces of life that you want, Steven.” 

You moved away from all of them. Steve stepped toward you, but stopped when you held up your hand.

“I’ve lived my life for everyone else, for this country, for as long as I can remember.  I deserve a little piece of life, Sweetheart.”  

Steve really believed what he was saying.

“What about me? Do I get a choice?”

Steve looked around at his two best friends, who were now best friends, and his best girl.

“You’re right. I think you should. You should choose.”

Your mouth hinged open. You spoke at the wall, then looked at Bucky.

“What about you, James? Do I need to choose?”

Bucky walked in front of you

“No Doll. You don’t have to choose.”  

You looked up into his eyes.  Damn, he looked so handsome in his bespoke grey suit that he chose for the wedding. And the tie that you gave him set off his eyes.  

“I just….  I just wanted a piece of happiness too. I knew you were Steve’s girl.”  He took both of your hands in his. 

“I don’t deserve you. When Steve didn’t come back, and you and I connected, I couldn’t help it. I was just going to keep an eye out, but…”

He gave you that cute little side smile of his.  And then he kissed you. It was short and sweet and oh so hot. You looked up at him, shook to the core. And then he ruined it all.

“I love you Doll. It was nice while it lasted.” 

Bucky was giving up. 

You nodded and backed away. Not believing this situation. 

“Ok. I’m making my choice.” 

You raised your chin and looked at Steve and Bucky.

“I’m not some fucking marble that you pass around, play with, and trade with your friend.” 

You took a deep breath.  “I choose me.”

You were gone in a flash, before they could even register it.  And although they ran, they couldn’t catch you before you were out of reach.

-----

Three months later, you walked through the late August soup of Houston heat to the bar, pausing when you thought you heard footfalls behind you. You used your speed to zip along to Willy’s; you were safe there.

You were back sharking with the best of them.  But your training was put to good use.  You never got burned and you never got caught.  You were making a good living.  

There were a jumble of misfit super humans who had gathered there with you.  You were a leader now. And you were doing well on your own. It was a life.

You already knew he was coming, and maybe that’s why you moved to the back room to play.

You were prepared, but when you felt him, you still lost your breath.  But you recovered quickly, straightening your spine, despite the fact that he was standing so close to you.

You looked at the dartboard on the wall across from you and chalked your cue.

“Don’t you have other things to take care of? Other wheres? Other whens maybe?”

You learned more about time travel since you’d left New York, and you understood more of what happened. 

The Avengers had access to time travel.  If only you could go back… but no. You were stronger than those men.  You could live with your decisions. And move forward.

“No. What I need to take care of is right here. Right now.”  

His deep growl stirred something inside you, and you fought your body, which was becoming moist at his proximity.

You bent over the table, super soldier dick poking you in the ass before you drew your pool cue back sharply into his stomach.  Abs of steel met the cue and nearly broke it.  He just stepped aside and shook his head at you.

You turned your head to look into his aqua blue eyes and you fell in love all over again.  Shit.

You gave up and turned around, leaning back against the pool table, because he wasn’t giving an inch, not moving from your space.

You scanned the room and your people were watching, but keeping your distance. They all knew who he was, and your history. They gave you space, but wouldn’t let you be hurt without a fight. You nodded at them and they all went to the front, giving you more privacy.

He nodded in their direction. 

“People fall under your spell fast, I know that all too well. They trust you.”

You lifted your head. “I’ve never done anything to make them not trust me.”

He sighed.  “Point taken.”

“Why did you come here?  I know that you’ve known where I was. Sam must have told you.” 

“I’ve known where you were. How could I not? I didn’t need Sam to tell me. It’s not like you were trying to hide.”  

He cocked his head at you.

“But the reason that I’m here, now, is that I’ve always been slow at math. And I just put two and two together.”

You smirked up at him. “You’re right. This is home. A leopard doesn’t change her stripes.”

He just chuckled at your evasion.

“You wanna play a game?” 

His eyes followed you, undeterred by your challenge.

You walked around to the other side of the table, leaned over and gathered the balls to be racked. 

You held two in one hand and looked at him.  He smiled and the electricity at the small of your back was everything. He slowly walked around to you as you racked them.

He took in your form (including your ample cleavage) as you bent over the table and your mouth as you said the word, “Break.”

“I’m tired of playing games, Doll. I’m just here to win you back.”

You turned around and faced him, looking up at him, now aware of his smell.  You closed your eyes and inhaled leather and metal. You opened them again and his eyes were blazing.

“James.. I”  

Bucky grabbed your face, hands gently cradling your head, and cut you off with a kiss, his lips gentle at first. Then his hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto the table. He slotted himself in between your thighs, your bodies separated by the same brand of black denim. 

His lips and tongue seemed determined to possess you. Bucky kissed and felt your body like he hadn’t in a lifetime. His hands roamed you like they were starved from touching you. 

Your hands were on his neck and in his hair, relishing the feel of him. You’d  missed him so fucking much. You drew apart, and his breath fanned your face as you two panted together, his forehead resting on yours.

“I am never going to let you go again.”

“James…”

“Hold on Doll, I’ve got to say this.” 

He smiled and gave you another quick peck.  You nodded, solemn.

“I said the wrong thing back in Brooklyn. I don’t care that you were with him first. I don’t care if you think that you might want to be with him. When I fell for you, I fell harder than I ever have. Even from the train.”  

He was whispering the words you wanted to hear months ago, causing you to cry.  But a lot of things caused you to cry lately. 

Bucky smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that you loved. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you, silencing you again. You responded with a smile. He continued.

“I know that you think that I folded and just gave up on you on our wedding day. I was just thinking that I don’t deserve you. Especially next to Steve.  I mean, you won’t find a better man.  But in the time since, I’ve realized, even though it’s hard. I’m a good man too.”

“You are, James…”

“You helped me come to terms with everything that’s happened. Sam has helped me deal with everything I did...and I’m not perfect, and neither are you, but we can be perfect for each other.”  

You nodded, smiling a little.

“I’m in love with you and I deserve you. You deserve me. We deserve each other.  And I’m not saying this because I think you saved me. But you are the strongest woman I know, enough to be with me when I am weak. I figured out that I can be strong for you too. I have to be now. I am so sorry that I let you walk away. But I’m not going to let you out of my sight now, even if you don’t want to be with me.  But I am asking you, again. Be my family. Make one with me. Choose me.”

You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes.

“James Barnes, there was never ever any choice. It’s you. It will be you. Forever.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and started kissing you all over your face, down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was scared shitless, Doll! I love you so much,…”

You kissed him now, your hands under his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. Next, you went under his shirt, feeling his nipples, playing with them as he shuddered. Then your hands went up to one cold shoulder and one warm, grasping them as he ground his hard jeans covered crotch into yours.

“Too many clothes.”

You ended up helping him pull his shirt over his head. You trailed your hand back down his abs to the button on his jeans.

“I missed you James. My hormones are going crazy, Baby…”  

His eyes got wide as you popped the top button and bit your lip.  Bucky moaned.  He was about to explode just being near you.

“Th-that’s what we need to talk about…”

“Talk later. Fuck. Now.”

Bucky looked over your shoulder to the other room. To his surprise, the door was now closed.

“Wow, they…”

You hopped down from the table and got on your knees in front of him.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not James?”

He looked down at you smirking up at him and could feel himself leaking in his jeans.  Three months of his hand had been torture, thinking of you.  

It seemed as if he unfastened and pulled himself out without knowing.  For a moment he feared mind control. 

But it was just love and lust.

You grasped him, testing his girth and admiring how your fingers did not meet around his cock.  

“Mmmmmmmm,” you moaned while you thumbed his tip, collecting the pre-cum and lubricating him as you pumped.

He stared at you, slack jawed and sexy as he watched you.  He reached down and put his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You commanded him. “Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth, and spit on his cock.

“Fuck.”

You pumped him a couple of times before you opened wide and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of his wide, smooth, hard unit in your mouth.  You pulled off of him with a pop.

“Damn I missed this dick.” 

Then you deep throated him again, making Bucky have to hold on to the side of the pool table as he held your head while you spluttered around him.

“And I missed your pretty little mouth, Doll. Damn.”  He watched as you did it a few more times.

When you looked up and  he saw your ruined face, Bucky went feral.

He pulled you up by your shirt, pulling it over your head and wiping your face with it.  Then he kissed you.

“Fucking love how you do that, Doll.”  

He started kissing down your chest, pulling your breasts out of your bra, pinching and rolling your nipples gently, a little more carefully than usual. He looked at you knowingly as you squirmed in pleasure.

“I’ve been doing my research.”  

Then, he leaned down and suckled them with that mouth until you almost came, writhing in his arms. Bucky unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down, kneeling, and staring up at you as you leaned against the green felt table.

You stepped out of your jeans and panties and watched as his flesh hand glided from your ankle to your ass, palming it and then sliding back down as he lifted your thigh on his shoulder.  You shuddered as you could feel his breath on your cunt.

“I’ve been dreaming of this.”  

His eyes held yours as he leaned in for a kiss, then a long wet lick of your cunt.  You grabbed his brown hair as his blue eyes hypnotized you and as he ate you out. When his metal fingers came up, whirring, you started begging.

“Please, James…please…please…..”

He laughed, mouth still fucking your pussy. He pulled away, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers began pumping inside you, the vibration driving you up the wall.

“Are you begging me to stop, or to continue, Doll? Talk to me.”

“Unnnh, unnnnh, oooohhh shittttt. Don’t ever stop.” 

And then you came all over his face,  Bucky slurping it up happily.  He stood up, taking you with him and maneuvering you so that you could feel his thick tip at your hole before it breached you. 

Bucky’s cock stretched you out and made you see stars as you slid down his thick pole while he was standing up, pumping inside you as he deposited you on the table.

You wrapped around him like a vine as he held you, cock pounding from the feeling of being inside you again. He pulled back to kiss you again.  He was grunting in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Fuck you feel so good...Fair warning, Doll. I’m not going to last. Been too long.”

You let go of him, and leaned back on the felt, arms braced behind you as you replied, “Just fuck me James.”

Bucky took in your body, from where you were connected up your torso to your breasts and the beautiful fucked out look on your face and started moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”  You took him, looking down to see the impossible stretch.

“Yeah, look at that. Looks and feels so damn good, doesn’t it, Doll? How the fuck are you so… so… fucking… tight….?”

“Yes, fuck, James, FUCKKKKK.”

All nerves were in your cunt as you went down to your elbows, and then to your back flat on the slate table, pool balls going everywhere.

Bucky pulled your hips off the table and really started digging in, hips snapping at a frenzied pace as his metal hand slid down your body. You could tell that he was almost there.

“Cum with me Doll.” 

When that metal thumb touched your clit, it was over.  You came as soon as you felt his white hot ropes of cum drench your walls. You closed your eyes for just a second, and then opened your eyes wide.

‘Why am I curled up on a pool table after being fucked by my 106 year old fiance? What is life?”

Bucky laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head and helped you off the table. He looked around, going to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine.

“You good?” 

Bucky eyed you as you got your clothes together.  He leaned next to you as he watched you drink the water.

“Baby okay?”

You ducked your head, smiled and grabbed his hand, putting it on your slightly rounded stomach.

“Yeah. I can feel him moving around.  Can you feel that?”  

Bucky just stared at his hand, then at your face.

“Not really… Him?”  He was astounded.

“That’s normal. I’m gonna be able to feel him before you can, And yeah, Him.”  

You turned more fully toward Bucky and he took you in his arms.  

“I had all kinds of tests, to make sure that he was okay.  I wanted to know if… if what they did to me would affect…. “ 

You shook your head, then smiled up at Bucky.

“He’s healthy.  I’m 20 weeks. I figured we’d call him Jamie?”  

Bucky beamed at you and nodded. 

“How did you know?”

“Well, I figured out that you didn’t faint at the wedding just because of Steve. Why didn’t you tell me, Doll?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really asking me that question?”  

Bucky blanched and you decided not to be salty. 

“Well, At first, I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I was so happy that you asked me and didn’t know.”  You beamed at him. “ But then…” Your smile faded.

“I’m an idiot, Doll. Forgive me.  It’s me and you. And Jamie. Forever.”  

You two shared the kiss you missed at the altar. It was going to be okay.

“Now, let’s go get some food. I know you’re hungry.”

You laughed as you punched his arm. 

“Ass. But you’re right.” 

You two walked down the street to Ninfa’s Restaurant hand in hand. Bucky turned his head and gave an imperceptible nod as you two passed by an alley/

Steve returned the greeting as he stepped out and watched you and Bucky make your way down the street.

“That’s okay Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Buck’s a good man. But I know you’ll choose me. In another time.”

He walked to the quinjet, which was pointed toward New York.

-------

Did Reader make the right choice? What do you think about the surprise?And what the what is Steve thinking? Let me know if you liked it by commenting or reblogging!

Tagging:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @fineanddandy @olyvoyl @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83 @curlyhairclub @spookyparadisesheep @keepingitlokiii​ @weaselbeedisneygeek @toofab4utheatrediva

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[spencerreidslove]

Hi I'd like to request a Spencer Reid x soulmate!reader red string au. Where Reader is part of the BAU and they don't tell anyone they are soulmates because they want some privacy. But then reader gets kidnapped and Spencer is like I know how to find her and the day is saved. I just think that would be really cute but you can ignore this if you want.

A/N: I’ve wanted to do a Soulmate AU for a really long time and this one is so cute and I really tried to make it work and I hope you like it!

————

2 years ago...

“First day. You can do this Y/N.” You said to yourself. You were in the elevator heading to your first day as a profiler for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You had worked hard to work for this position for years. You had wanted to be a profiler ever since you were little and heard about Profiling on an episode of Forensic Files.

You took a deep breath as the doors opened and you were face to face with the looming glass doors. You felt a little pull from the string circling your pinky finger.

That’s odd. You thought. Soulmate strings didn’t pull unless you were close to your soulmate. But recently it had been happening to you.

The other week you were at a coffee shop when you felt it tug. You looked after it, and saw it heading into the bookshop across the street, but by the time oh had gotten there, your string had stretched off around street corners.

You looked at your string and saw it leading in between the glass doors.

Maybe my soulmate is one of my coworkers? You thought.

You entered through the doors and saw your string going up a small set of stairs to a room with windows on one side.

Your string tugged again.

As much as you wanted to run up those stairs, you were supposed to meet Agent Hotchner in his office, like you had for the interview a week ago.

After you had met up with Agent Hotchner, (“Please, call me Hotch.”) he brought you to the round table room to introduce you to the rest of the team.

“Everybody, this is my our new Agent, Y/N Y/L/N.” He said. He introduced you to everybody until he reached the person you had been glancing at.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You smiled at Spencer as he looked at your strings. There was only a few inches of space in between them, connecting your right pinky finger to his.

Present Day...

“4 victims in North Dakota. Small town, all women in their late 20’s, early 30’s.” Garcia said, showing the victim’s pictures on the board.

“We can clearly see the victimology. They have Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes.” Prentiss said.

“They look as though they could be sisters.” JJ said.

“They’ve all been stabbed several different times.” Penelope said.

“16, then 32, then 48, and finally 64. He’s stabbing them in multiples of 16, and he’s getting angrier.” Spencer said.

“And this timeline is short-only a few days in between victims.” You said.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said.

-

It was three days later and there were no more victims and the case was going nowhere.

“Everybody head back to the hotel for the night.” Hotch said. It was nearing midnight.

Everybody was heading out of the station, except for you. “I’ll catch up. I just want to see something.” You said.

“Don’t stay too long.” Hotch said, heading for the doors. You turned back to the evidence board, twirling a pen between your fingers.

You felt that familiar tug on your pinky finger and turned to face Spencer. “You really should get some sleep.” He said.

“I will. Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.” You said.

Spencer waited a moment longer before turning out of the room and heading for the door. There was a moment of quiet before somwine tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned to see an officer, one you had talked to earlier. His name tag read ‘Jones.’

“Are you the only FBI one left?” Jones asked.

“Yeah, I was just about to head out, but what’s up?” You asked.

“I saw something outside that you should see.” He said.

You followed Jones outside and next to the precinct, your gun out. “What did you see?” You asked. You turned around just in time to see Jones hit you on the forehead with the butt of his gun.

And then it went dark.

-

The next morning, the team walked into the police precinct’s bullpen. “Has anybody seen Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Maybe she overslept. I’ll call her.” Prentiss said. She picked up the phone and let it ring for a few minutes before it went to voicemail.

“She’s not answering.” Prentiss said.

Morgan picked up his phone and dialed it to Garcia. “Hey baby, Y/L/N’s not answering her phone, see if you can get through to her.” He said.

“Sure thing hot stuff.” Garcia said. There was a moment before she said anything else. “Well, that’s strange.”

“What is?” Morgan asked.

“I pinged Y/N’s phone to if she was on her way, but it’s pinging from the precinct.” Garcia said.

“Maybe she left it here?” Morgan said. He began to look around at the tables, hoping to spot Y/N’s phone.

“Oh no no no.” Garcia said.

“What?”

“She never checked into her room at the hotel last night.” Garcia said.

“Hold on.” Morgan put his phone down and turned twoards the group. “Y/N’s phone is pinging from in the precinct and she never checked into her hotel room.”

“Where could she be?” JJ asked.

Rossi turned around from his spot at the evidence board. “Damnit.” He said.

“What?” Prentiss asked.

“Y/N matches the victimology and the preliminary profile shows that the Unsub might be a police officer.” Rossi said.

“Y/N was the last to leave the precinct last night.” Hotch said.

Everyone seemed to deflate as they realized what had happened.

“Captain.” Hotch called out to the police captain. “Did any of your officers not show up for work today?”

“Yeah, Marvin Jones called in sick.” The captain said.

“Garcia get us everything you can on a Marvin Jones.” Morgan said, picking up this phone again.

“I think we can know how to find her.” Spencer said, speaking up for the first time.

Everybody turned to him. “How?” JJ asked.

Spencer took a deep breath. “We’re soulmates.”

-

You woke up to find yourself tied to a chair in the middle of a empty room.

“Jesus.” You muttered, blinking a few times. Your head hurt and you could feel some blood in your face.

“You thought you could just show up and taunt me?” A voice said. Your eyes focused on the man stepping out of the shadows.

Jones, you remembered.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“You look so much like her, I just couldn’t help myself.” Jones said.

You eyes adjusted to the room around you and you realized the walls were covered in pictures of the same woman. One who looked shockingly like you.

“What the hell?” You muttered.

“When Addie died, I knew I needed to find someone like her again. The others...weren’t right, but you, you could be the one.” Jones said. He came close to you and grabbed your chin.

“You could be the one to replace her.”

-

“What do you mean you and Y/N are soulmates?” Morgan asked.

“There’s really only one way to interpret that.” Spencer said.

“She’s worked here for what? 2 years? And neither of you said anything?” JJ asked. “Why?”

“The same reason you didn’t tell anyone that you and Will are soulmates! For privacy. But that’s not the issue right now.”

“Reid’s right. If him and Y/L/N are soulmates, we have a direct line to her.” Hotch said.

“That’s still too broad of an area. We need to find out more about this Jones guy.” Rossi said.

As if summoned, the phone rang with Garcia on the other side.

“Crime fighters, I have got the 4-1-1 on Marvin Jones. 32, from Bismarck. He was married to his soulmate, Addie Reign until she died a few weeks ago on the 16th.” She said.

“That’s why he stabs them in multiples of 16.” Prentiss said.

“I’ve got a picture of Addie and she could be a dead ringer for Y/N, and the rest of the victims.” Garcia said.

“Home and work address?” JJ asked.

“Already sent. Go find her.” Garcia said.

The team split up, heading to both locations. Spencer desperatly hoped his team was heading to the right address. He stared down at his string, begging for it to start tugging.

-

“Now, Addie, won’t some dinner be nice?” Jones asked. He placed a plate on the card table he had set up in front of you.

You stayed silent.

“Addie? Did I make the wrong thing?” Jones asked.

“My name’s not Addie. It’s Y/N.” You said.

Jones’s face fell, and he slapped the plate off the table. “Wrong answer.” He said. Jones reached over the table and slapped you. “Now, let’s try this again.”

“No.” You said. “My name isn’t Addie. Whoever Addie is, she’s gone and pretending I’m her won’t bring her back.”

If it was possible, Jones darkened even more, and pushed the card table out of the way. “Unless you want to end up like the other girls, you’ll be Addie.”

You shook your head no. Jones punched you on the left side of your face.

“If you’re going to be so difficult, I’ll have to fix that.” Jones said. He pulled a switchblade out from his back pocket and stepped twoards you.

-

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “Y/N’s in here.” He said, looking down at his string. It led directly into Jones’s house.

The team crept up to the house, and Spencer felt his string tug a little. You were still alive.

Morgan moves up to the door and kicked it open. They all stayed silent as they moved through the house.

Spencer followed the string to a door leading to a basement. He nodded to the others and began to go down the stairs.

When Spencer reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw you sitting in a chair, having been stabbed in the arm, with Jones standing behind you with a knife to your throat.

“Marvin, but the knife down.” Spencer said.

“No!” Jones cried out.

“I get that your soulmate died and you’re upset, but but killing innocent people is not the answer.” Spencer said.

“If they would just be Addie, then they wouldn’t die!”

“But the thing is, they’re not Addie so they can’t be her. And now their soulmates are without them.”

Realization of what he had done seemed to sink in on Jones’s face.

“I took someone else’s soulmate?” He asked.

“Yes. You don’t want to take another person’s do you?” Spencer asked.

Jones slowly shook his head and dropped the knife from your neck.

Morgan rushes past Spencer and cuffed Marvin. He bagan to read him his Miranda rights, and Spencer races to you.

He quickly untied you and called for a medic.

“I’ll be fine.” You said, wrapped your unstabbed arm around him. Spencer responded by gripping you tighter.

“I could’ve lost you.” He said.

“I’m right here Spence. In mostly one peice.” You said.

Spencer pulled back and looked at you. “It’s a joke, Spence. I’ll be fine.” You said.

At that moment, the medics rushed into the basement and began to look at your arm.

Both you and Spencer were pushed apart by the medics, but you knew he was there by the simple tug on your string.

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @rachelxwayne @just-damn-bored @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @andreasworlsboring101 @zhuzhubii

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[ficforce]

Asakusa Crush Part 1

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader SFW / NSFW No set timeline New relationship

Hikage and Hinata had been munching on their sweets, following close behind Benimaru who was buying them whatever he could to keep them quiet - they were particularly hyper that day and he was beginning to wish he hadn’t let them tag along. It was a routine walk through the town, making sure nothing was going to wrong and that none of the smaller gangs had any ideas about who Asakusa belonged to. The girls both walked straight into him as the man stopped suddenly and a head popped out either side of him to see what the fuss was up ahead.

A big man was mouthing off at the front of a store, demanding the owner come out and settle things like a man and accusing them of robbing him.

“Another fight, huh…” Benimaru crossed his arms and watched as the twins stood in front of him to watch. The guy must have been about six foot four and he had a big build, Benimaru figured he’d pack a punch but not be too fast on his feet, the scars and bruised knuckles identified him as a guy who brawled a lot. The curtain was moved aside from the store and out stepped a young lady, she was wearing a flowery yukata and he was a little surprised to see she was only wearing bandaged binding beneath it, had she just woken up? She was rubbing her eyes and then pushed her hair out of the way a little.

“Where’s the old bastard who owns this shit hole?!” The man stalked over to the woman and put his hand on her shoulder to move her out of the way. Benimaru barely caught the move so he was damned sure that the big guy never saw it coming. Her hand had shot up onto his wrist and with an elegant twist and using his own momentum against him, she had the man on his back on the dusty ground.

She stepped back from him and covered a slight yawn, she had definitely been taking a nap, “What’s your problem? You were loud last night too. If you can’t handle your drink then don’t come here anymore.”

“Y/N is hilarious!” Hinata cheered,

Hikage nodded, “She’s always best when she’s sleepy!”

Benimaru looked down at the two, they knew her? He couldn’t recall ever seeing her and he thought he had met most people in the town, “Y/N? Who the hell is she?”

“She came here a month ago, Waka, the bar owner is her grandpa or something.”

“Sooner he kicks the bucket the sooner she can make it fun for us!” The two giggled and then hung onto Benimaru, “She has a cool fire trick too!”

By this point the man had gotten up off the ground, spitting onto it and getting himself up, he swung at Y/N twice, both times she stepped out of the way and on his third swing she punched him between the eyes and he fell down flat. Unconscious before he hit the dirt. “Yeah! Kick his ass Y/N!”

Benimaru met Y/N’s eyes as she looked in his direction, it was for a second and then she glanced down at the twins, her annoyed expression brightened and she grinned at the girls with a small thumbs up. The Captain’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt an odd heat spike inside his gut, why the hell was that?

A tug on his clothing pulled the left sleeve down and he yanked it back up, Hikage sticking her tongue out at him and the bouncing on her feet as she saw Y/N approach them, “You two weren’t even gonna help, were you?”

They shook their heads and then grinned at one another before pointing up at Benimaru, “We were waiting for the man to do the decent thing!”

“Waka didn’t do a thing!

“Shame on you!”

He clicked his tongue at them, grumbling for them to shut up and then he was looking at the woman close up. She didn’t seem special, her appearance was a little rough, the yukata was too big for her and obviously just thrown on - did she even know that it was so open? She didn’t even have anything on her feet. She was plain and he was oddly speechless.

“Waka?” She asked and then she seemed to have a moment of realisation, “You’re Be- uh, Shinmon Benimaru, right?”

She was from the Empire then? She’d barely caught herself in saying his name in the correct order, that should have put him off her but it really didn’t, she looked like she belonged in Asakusa and Benimaru was still struggling to speak so he just nodded.

“Hika and Hina gave me the heads up on who’s who in Asakusa, you’re pretty high on their list of people. I’m Y/N, sorry for the ruckus just now…” She figured that fighting in the street wasn’t the best way to meet the town’s Demolishing King.

“What fighting style were you using?” That was the only thing he could get to come out of his mouth.

“A little Aikido, some Kobudo and generally the skill of avoiding getting hit. I lived on the outskirts of the Empire barely inside of Tokyo, it got a little rough from time to time.” She watched him give another nod and took a step back, “Well, I guess I’m up now, I better get the bar ready for tonight - Later, girls!” The twins chimed in their goodbyes and then gave a pull on Benimaru as they complained he was too slow.

He had been fixated on watching Y/N walk away, he wanted to follow her and talk a little more now that the beating in his chest had calmed down. “What the hell was that…?”

—

Konro couldn’t help but watch in fascination as his young Captain stared after the new girl, the mismatched red eyes glued to her as she chatted away with Hinata and Hikage after bringing snacks to the guardhouse. The Company had been busy rebuilding most of the morning and people were bringing them food and drink to keep them going, there was nothing like watching a loved one combust and getting put to rest to bring everyone together. But since she had arrived, Benimaru hadn’t moved and his face had a little more colour to it, he decided to try something out and made a random comment, “She’s pretty.” He was being honest, she was wearing a cute yukata with a flowery belt, she wasn’t too made up and her hair was kept simple - she looked like a sweet girl.

“She’s amazing.”

Konro nearly choked on his surprise, “What?”

“…W-what?” Benimaru tore his eyes away and looked up at Konro, his face heating up as he realised what had just happened and he turned his head to glare at the opposite wall, “Shut up! Get that dumb look off your face or I’ll -“

“You’ll what?” Konro smirked, “Blush some more?” This was great, Benimaru didn’t get crushes, Benimaru wasn’t a virgin either but he never really showed too much interest in women. For him to actually get embarrassed like this was better than any hazing he had put Benimaru through as a young teen. “I wish I had the camera right now.”

Benimaru clicked his tongue angrily and stepped out of the doorway without looking, straight into Y/N like some dumb cliche. “Watch it!”

“You stepped into me, dumbass!” Y/N shot back at him with a glare to match his own, a slight orange glow to her eyes.

Benimaru wanted to know what she could do, was she a second or a third-generation? Would she have a real sting in her tail or was she just flashy? “Tch!” He went to sidestep her but she blocked him, “The hell you want?”

“An apology.”

“Not happening, move” He reached a hand to her shoulder to move her aside and grunted as she used the heel of her palm to knock it away. Was she challenging him? She didn’t look anything like the woman fighting in the street a few days ago, this well-groomed, pretty face had no place in giving him trouble. “I said move.”

He moved quicker this time and she countered, their palms and forearms collided several times as they attacked and countered, “And I said apologise.”

There was a small crowd around them now, excited murmurs buzzing along them as they watched the standoff. Konro grabbed Hinata and Hikage before they could run over and join in, he approached them both and put a hand on each of them. “If you’re gonna fight, do it away from the new building work.” Benimaru shrugged him off and walked away in the opposite direction, Konro watched after him with a barely concealed smile - he had it bad for this girl. “You shouldn’t play with fire.”

“I’m fireproof,” Y/N smiled up at the man benignly, “Besides…I’m just pulling on his pigtails.”

The twins giggled at her side and teased her about her own crush on Benimaru.

[aelaer]

Hi friend! You seem vast in your knowledge of Stephen and willing to share so please enlighten me as I don’t read the comics but I do watch the mcu movies, and do love Stephen.

I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.

IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.

The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.

Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off

Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?

Regardless, thank you for your time if you see this xx

Oh yeah, Stephen's my favorite subject at the moment so I'm happy to give my thoughts!

Note that my answers apply to MCU!Stephen and what we've seen in the four films he's been in.

I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.

In my experience of just living, there are personality quirks that can be tempered out and made better, but not entirely eliminated, even if it's undesirable. In my opinion, Stephen's need to push himself and prove that he can Do A Thing is a trait that won't ever go away--especially as that trait has helped him more than hindered him. Examples would include the more mundane such as getting through a combined MD/PhD program and inventing surgical procedures at what is still a really young age for a neurosurgeon. We don't have a canonical age for Stephen, but Benedict was 40 when Doctor Strange was filmed and released; even if he's canonically in his mid-40s, that's still very young for him to be at his caliber after the necessary years of med school and residency in the United States. He's young and nowhere near the end of his career when he gets in the car crash. So with that information in mind, we know that he's very ambitious and throws himself into doing difficult work with gusto. That doesn't even go into everything he did as a sorcerer.

Why get into all of this? Because while we, the viewer who has seen the multiverse open at... some point (possibly, in a rewritten timeline, it's always been open now with what happened in Loki!), we have seen just how nuts it gets. We have seen the consequences. Stephen's smart, but I don't think it's a matter of strictly recklessness and more a combination of ignorance on this specific subject (erasing memories across the world or slightly rewriting time-- we don't know how he's doing it, but a memory spell makes more sense to me), hubris (of course), and the real desire to help Peter out. The latter two traits combined in intelligent people have proven bad in both fiction and reality.

The reason I don't think it's pure impulsiveness is because in the trailer, we see Stephen doing some meditation type thing in the underground area before the spell. He's also always doing research and as he tells Peter he'll help him, he clearly knows of a spell already and has some working knowledge of how it works. The conversation with Wong wouldn't have happened otherwise. But I personally get the vibe off him that he'd not do it without being very confident that he can do it -- and his history in the films has shown 0 failures in any of his spells once he's past novice-level, so in that aspect, his confidence makes sense. If he *should* do the spell due to the risks of failure, and lack of practicing precaution in the face of his confidence, is where his flaws lie, IMO. And in that sense people could say he was reckless for deciding to perform a complicated, dangerous spell, but that follows his M.O. completely -- he performed a very complicated, dangerous spell consistently with the Time Stone again and again, from how the sorcerers spoke about the Infinity Stone (and he casually just... throws himself into a time loop, then to look through time. He takes calculated risks, but they are very much risks).

One last thought on this statement - the biggest, biggest lesson that Stephen learned in his first film was that it was not about him. There was more to the world than his glory and his brilliance and even his happiness. He started doing things for the greater good rather than himself. And he started doing things for others -- fighting for the Sanctum in his own film, and protecting the Earth. Serving something greater than himself. But that doesn't make him suddenly humble, and it doesn't suddenly take away his strange (hah) sense of humor.

IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.

He was more serious in that film. So was Tony. They still had some quips and arguments, but they were very serious. And it makes sense as to why -- it was the end of the world. So the mood of the setting would change anyone's demeanour. But he had very little chance to unwind in that film, considering that he was trying to protect one of six items that would destroy the universe, and also got freaking tortured in the middle of the film with little time to recover. But nearly every Avenger was super serious in that film, and for good reason.

It's a completely different setting from what is now Stephen's life which, from what little we've seen in the trailer, is weird enough that he got a magical snowstorm in the Sanctum. It's safe enough that Wong's off on vacation. It's been nearly a year since he returned from the dead. He's either figured out how to move on in the last year or, as some prefer, has gotten good enough to put on a facade and bury the trauma so far down that he's putting on a normal act - but that's up to debate until MoM. And we have no idea if old traumas are going to be brought up there or if it's just the new things.

I think the point is that it's possible to be both a responsible person and also to make colossal mistakes due to either emotional connections or hubris (or both - we don't know which way the film will go, if they'll explain it at all). They're not mutually exclusive. He can be protecting reality fantastically, while also believing that he's skilled enough to pull off the ability to pull off a dangerous spell which he did in his own film and in IW. He's guided the timeline down a specific path in IW/Endgame, after all - what's a little identity item compared to the fate of the universe, after all? Removing the Spider-Man/Peter association is, in comparison, child's play I imagine to a man like Stephen.

The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.

Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off

He was definitely silly in his own film. He was constantly trying to get Wong to laugh and there was a banter between Stephen and Christine after he gets stabbed. He's always been a bit awkward and a bit jokey--I think Thor showed that combination of humorous snark and good research rather well, though he was flippant in a way that didn't get to show his kinder side that is better established in his film. And now we get to see that sympathy in his agreement to help Peter (at least, in my opinion).

Because he was doing an amazing awesome spell not once, not twice, but *three* times in the trailer alone, I am not worried about Stephen just being a joke. He seems just as powerful as he was in IW and Endgame. The rest of the world is just getting reminded that he's definitely a bit of a socially awkward duck at times (or, if you prefer, Putting On a "I'm Fine" Front And It's Coming Across As Weird). So him being a big joke is not something I am personally worried about.

Situational humor has been a staple of Marvel films since Iron Man. I watched the films casually before 2016 when I fell head deep into Stephen Strange (or well, 2018/9 is more accurate as that's when I *really* went nuts), and my viewings before that time and after that time was a lot more analytical. And it's very easy to see where the silliness started, all the way back when Tony crashed into his own car and Dum-E sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. Thor was the butt of the joke in the "fish out of water" scene in a good, good chunk of the film. Even Captain America had some situational humor. And remember that Guardians of the Galaxy was back in 2014, which was halfway through the MCU's time thus far. The stars of these films are almost always the butt of some joke a couple times and do things that could be viewed as childish.

I don't know your age at all, but if you were born after 1990, what might be happening, rather, is that they are not getting sillier, but that you may be getting older. I was an adult (legally, at least) in 2008, but the way I view the adults of the films throughout the early 2010s as compared to now is night and day. It's just come with my own life experience, and wider understanding to media tropes. The jump is even more significant if you were younger in Iron Man/Avengers days and are an adult now. If you're an older adult than me, then I'd argue it's the matter of life experience adding to your overall knowledge of media plus, potentially, rose-tinted glasses giving you a better vision of the older movies while forgetting that the older movies had plenty of their own flaws (and silliness). Could be a lot of things- it's too individual to really say why your perspective has changed. But I don't think the MCU's largely changed their comedy formula since 2012/2013.

Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?

Oh the comics are a mess of characterizations. It's very difficult to find full consistency across writers, and some writers did him much better than others. At the moment, Jason Aaron's 2015 run is viewed as very good by a large amount of fans, while Waid's 2018 run is viewed with mixed reviews. It's largely a matter of preference as you'll see traits that are just so uncharacteristic in an arc and then it never happens again. He takes on secret identities, he kills billions to save trillions (along with the other Avengers!), he sells his soul, he's in a steady relationship for 30 years, then he's sleeping with a new woman every arc he co-stars in-- it's just so dependent on the writer over the decades. What Marvel thinks will sell. Right now Marvel thinks his death is gonna sell issues, so yeah :P You pick and choose with the comics and build a personality from there.

Thank you for the thoughtful ask. I hope this wasn't too much of a drag to read through; I get rambly on my favorite subjects. Or anything, really.

[qyrhan]

Hugh (Third Of Five) x Reader

(Individuality)

Part One

[ Platonic ]

The soft hum of the engines comfortably filled your ears as you wandered down the Enterprise’s long, winding corridors. Such has been the norm after your arrival on the starship roughly a month ago.

You still had a sense of disbelief about living on a spaceship. Venturing out into the stars was merely a childhood dream of yours, though you learned all too quickly that it took only the best of the best to leave Earth’s atmosphere and into the void beyond. But now you were here, walking the hallways of a vessel tasked to explore the very stars you’d marveled at for hours and hours while on your back porch.

Here, in the future, where humanity mingled with the members of so many different species it gave you a headache every time you glossed over the multiple PADDs scattered all over your desk. Humanity actually pushed passed its differences and turned into something remarkable.

Knowing that your kind actually had a hope for the future certainly warmed your heart, even if Worf had nearly scared it out of your chest the first time you’d met. However, the cost of such knowledge loomed in the back of your mind constantly.

You remembered the look on everyone’s faces while seated in the meeting room as Captain Picard broke the news. They all seemed sympathetic to your position at the time.

“[ ],” Jean-Luc began, his hands folded together on the table in front of him, “it has come to our attention that your being here is not by accident, nor was it a simple mistake.”

Your brows knit together into a look of confusion while the captain continued.

“There are certain scientific events that may take place at any point in time, events that change the life course of a person forever.” He paused, his expression taut. “These events are what we call “temporal anomalies”. They’re unpredictable, and they form without warning. You happened to be an unfortunate victim of one such anomaly.”

A tense silence fell upon the room as you digested the captain’s words.

”So when can I go home?” You finally managed to pipe up after a moment.

Looks where exchanged, and the awkward feeling in the room amplified, as well as a beginning sense of dread that made a chill run down your spine.

“When do I go home?” You asked again, hoping they’d just misheard you.

Geordi was the first to answer, his voice filled with hesitation, “That’s where the problems start. We’ve been running some tests, checking past records and… We can’t send you back.”

Your heart dropped to the floor, fear creeping into your mind. “But what about my friends my— my family?” You placed both your palms down on the table, urgency influencing your speech. “I have to get back I— you have to do something, anything!”

”We’re doing everything we can, [ ],” Geordi tried to calm you, his expression level and sure, “but this is something we can’t change. You being sent to the twenty-fourth century is a set date in the timeline. You’re meant to be here, on the Enterprise.”

You were brought out from your reminiscing by a conversation happening nearby you.

“…And he doesn’t fight answering your questions?” One voice inquired.

”No, not at all,” another, this one familiar, replied, “he’s actually quite eager to help in any way he can.” It was Beverly. She was deep in conversation with one of her nurses, Kendra, if you remembered correctly. “I was surprised at it myself, but it’s definitely been easier asking about his implants, and running scans on his well-being.”

You trailed just behind the pair. You knew how rude it was to eavesdrop on things that didn’t concern you, but your curiosity always got the better of your common sense.

“And you’re not worried about him, well, assimilating you while you’re not looking?” Kendra asked.

Beverly merely waved her hand dismissively at her. “He’s just a boy, and if he wanted to assimilate me he would have. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve turned my back on him. He could’ve taken any one of those moments, but he didn’t.”

”I guess,” the nurse gave a unconvinced shrug, “but he could just be waiting for a chance to strike. He’s still Borg after all.”

Borg? You’ve heard of that before, in a report you read on one of the PADDs back in your quarters. They were those semi-mechanical beings, right? Not quite robot enough to be machine, but they weren’t fully humanoid, either.

They were also the species that had captured the captain and turned him into… into one of them. “Locutus of Borg.” That’s what he had been before his crew rescued him.

What in the world would a Borg be doing on the Enterprise? And why would they be taking care of it? Him. You corrected yourself mentally as you remembered Beverly referring to him as such.

“Well good morning, [ ].” Beverly’s voice made you jump as you looked up at her.

You’d been caught red handed.

”’Morning.” you gave a quick smile, and decided to give up any attempt to hide what you’d been doing. “Who were you talking about? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Kendra seemed to stiffen, while Dr. Crusher smiled warmly at you. “We have a guest staying with us for right now. He was hurt on the moon we had received a distress signal from, and he’s recovering from his injuries.”

The Borg was hurt, that would explain why he was even here in the first place. But if there was one, there should be more. Borg are never alone. At least, that’s what you’d read. You pursed your lips, intrigue bubbling up inside you as you wondered about the new arrival. What was a Borg like up close?

”Would you like to meet him?” Beverly inquired, which just about caused a smile to form from ear to ear on your face.

“Doctor I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea,” the nurse cautioned, “they’re a civilian, they don’t have clearance, and we still don’t know if he’s dangerous.”

”I’ll give them clearance,” Crusher answered, certainty on her face, “and I’ve said this before, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

You didn’t see Kendra calm at those words, so you assumed she didn’t like them very much. Not that you could argue, she no doubt knew more about potential threats than you ever would.

However, you weren’t going to pass the opportunity to meet a new species, even if that species had a bad reputation. Who knew, maybe this Borg was even nicer than Beverly made him out to be.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Path

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: Uh, yeah, the long awaited update! And we’re very close to an ending. A necessary explanation that the timeline of the MCU has been changed for the purpose of this series. As of this chapter, the year is 1989. Anyways, let’s welcome back James and Luka!

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

You’d never been on a plane before. You’d ridden in the cargo bay of a large boat from Europe, hidden amid the barrels and fishing nets. The rest of the way, had been marked by the back of rickety farming trucks and mule-drawn carts. But never a plane.

Weeks on the road, by foot, by car, until you reached the short dock along the winding river; a peculiar, small plane floating on the water. 

James handed the man a handful of bills and turned back to you as he felt the pistol hidden beneath his jacket. Luka sat on your hip and asked a dozen questions as you were helped into the aircraft, the pilot ahead of you and James behind. How did it fly and float? Where were you going? Were you going to space? 

You hushed him as you sat on a crate against the wall and James sat on the next. You turned Luka so that his back rested against your front and the man beside you tapped his gloves fingers on his knee. 

You listened as the pilot flipped switches and cranked the plane to life. It rumbled around you and you latched onto James’ arm without thinking. He leaned in until his arm met yours. Luka laughed in delight as the propellers began to spin.

“It’s alright,” James said in Portugeuse; he warned you not to speak Russian. “Be calm. I rode in worse.”

“Maybe you have, but I do not like the idea of being so high up,” You hissed and retracted your hand. “Must we go so far away?”

“We’ve spent long enough here.” He whispered close to your ear. “And now is the time to go. So many people are moving around, we will hardly be missed.”

“You still haven’t told me where we go,” You hugged Luka as the plan began to move.

“Best I don’t. Yet.” He said pointedly and raised his finger to his lips to signal silence.

You nodded and rocked Luka. The canvas bag on your back held a change of clothes for both of you and the woolen wolf toy you’d knitted him when he was still in the cradles. James told you to bring as little as possible. Enough to survive. He had a bag on his own back stuffed with salted rations, ammunition, and his own clothing. He was geared more to war as you felt little more than a refugee running for the hills.

The constant roar of the engine set you on edge and tugged at your exhausted mind. As the plane lifted from the water in a flurry, you clung tighter to Luka and he grabbed onto your arm to keep you from squeezing him too hard.

“Mama, mama,” He called over the noise. “You will hurt me.”

“Here,” James reached out and took Luka’s arm. “I’ll take him. You should try to rest.”

“Up here?” You let go, reluctant. The boy was your only comfort as you lifted into the clouds. “I don’t think I can.”

“Try.” He ordered. “We will still have far to go after we land.”

“We always have far to go,” You crossed your arms.

He was silent. Again. In those days you’d traveled, he had been even less talkative than before. His brow wrinkled as he forged on, aimed towards some unknown target. He was even more insistent, even more impatient, but you did not have the strength to hope that he was eager for some end to the road. Only another pit stop.

Despite your nerves, despite the way your skin pricked every time you thought of the dearth of land beneath you, and the altitude made your ears ache, your eyelids closed. At first you did not doze, merely tried to hide from the world before you. But your own fatigue overwhelmed your obstinacy and you fell asleep.

In your dreams, you were there again. As you were every time you slept. The bright cell, the anguished cries of your child, the sinister shadow of the soldier. Not James, the soldier. And the doctors poked and prodded at you as they whispered. You screamed but no sound rose and you woke with a start.

You blinked through the haze as the engines whirred still and you glanced over as James quickly folded up a piece of paper. You saw only the picture of a man, taken long ago, blonde hair and square jaw; stoic. You covered your yawn with your arm as James tucked the paper into his pocket, jostling Luka who slept silently against his chest.

“You okay?” He asked. “You were dreaming again.”

“Was I?” You played dumb.

“You make noises,” He said. “Sometimes you speak.”

“Oh,” You shifted on the crate. “How long did I--”

“Mmm,” He shrugged. “We’re almost there.”

“There?” You asked.

“Almost ready to land,” He explained. “You don’t trust me.”

“Why do you say that? I have trusted you, James. You have kept us safe.” You argued.

“But you watch me.” He said. 

You lowered your head and rubbed your hands together. “You are quiet. You… never tell me anything.”

“I tell you what you need to know. Any more and it would be dangerous.” He pushed back his hair. “Can you trust that I am taking us somewhere we will be safe? Somewhere we might be able to stay?”

“And where would be such a fantastical place?” You challenged.

“Another thing I cannot tell,” He smiled grimly. “But will you trust me one last time?”

“Always trust,” You assured. “Always.” You reached over and touched Luka’s cheek. “Even then, you saved him. You took him from those monsters.” You sniffed. “You never had to take me too.”

He bent his head and looked down at the child in his lap. He rubbed Luka’s back and sighed.

“Do you think I would’ve left you?” His voice was brittle.

“You weren’t James then.” You placed your hand over his as his fingers, the metal ones concealed in his leather glove, began to twitch. “You are now, but you still hide from me.”

He shook his head and turned his face away from you. “The soldier, James…” You could barely hear him. “They are the same person and they both hurt you.”

“You are not--” You tucked your fingers under his palm and held his hand as he tried to pull away. “No, you did not know the soldier as well as I. You are not the same, James.”

He kept his face hidden but squeezed your hand. He took a deep breath and rested his head on Luka’s smaller one. “I try…” He muttered. “I try.”

✰

Back on solid ground, you didn’t stop moving. The only thing that changed, was the world around you. At first, the signs remained in Spanish and after a stop at a checkpoint, they turned to English. You could not read that so well and the few people you met, spoke too quickly for you to keep up.

You could surmise that you were in America. You knew that James was born there, it was of the few details he offered about who he was, or who he had been. You stopped at a bank, he waited for the other customers to clear out, and he exchanged his real for dollars. He kept his head down as he returned to you, hidden with Luka behind a cafe, and kept on.

He bought a rusted old Chrysler from a dealer on a dusty road. It rattled but didn’t putter. He stopped only to fill the tank and buy coffee and processed sandwiches from the stations. You stopped once to eat in a restaurant but James had hurried you through the meal as Luka began to shout loudly in Spanish, Russian, then English.

States lines were little more than painted signs on the road. The landscape changed, it grew wetter, lusher, swamps then forests, then sprawling farmlands. James kept away from the cities and forged along the back roads. And then he stopped and stared down an impasse.

You were tired. Days spent sleeping in the car, almost a whole week, with the brooding man and the bored and energetic child. It had all mounted on your shoulders and in your head. You wanted a bed; a real bed. You wanted to stay still.

“What is it?” You asked.

“We’re almost there,” He said.

“Almost where?” You wondered as you unwrapped a candy bar for Luka. A treat you’d saved for him a few days back.

James let out a long breath and turned the wheel as he hit the gas. He didn’t answer as he drove on. He wasn’t going to tell you. You could tell he was anxious. You could tell he was uncertain. And you were too.

You played a game with Luka to distract yourself. He grew tired of it and so you sang with him, out of key, but it eased your nerves. You went silent as you reached the city. You didn’t need a sign or a map. You knew it from the magazine and the television. It was New York.

You looked over at Bucky in disbelief.

“This is--”

“Where I’m from,” He said. “I was born here. Up in Brooklyn.” His voice was wistful. “A very long time ago.”

“Very long,” You chided. “You are not so much older than me.”

“I don’t look it,” He kept his eyes on the road and slowed with the traffic around him. “I…” He swallowed. “I have to meet someone and then I will tell you. Everything.”

“Meet who?” Your heart was fluttering.

“An old friend,” He stopped as the car before him did and he leaned against the car door as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out that paper, newsprint, folded and refolded time and time again. “Here.”

You unfolded it carefully. The article was printed in English. You frowned. “I cannot read so well this language.” You said.

“You can read enough.” He insisted. “You will have to learn to speak it too.”

You squinted and looked over the paper. The same picture of the blonde man; words you recognized; a name. ‘War hero, Captain America, found in Arctic’. Your eyes roved the page; thawed, alive, preserved, miracle. You shook your head in confusion.

“That is my friend,” James said. “He can help us. He knows people. People who can keep us from Hydra.” He eased onto the gas. “I can’t fight alone. Not anymore.”

“You sure they will?” You asked. 

“I know he will.” He gripped the wheel tightly. “If not me, you and Luka.”

“All of us.” You insisted.

He looked grim as he nodded but said nothing more. You folded up the paper and looked around at the crowded buildings.

“Mama, there’s so many people,” Luka chimed. “And everything’s so tall.”

“Yes, Myshka,” You said. “So tall.”

✰

It was dark. You sat in an alley with Luka in your lap, a disposed orange crate beneath you. James stood against the wall, hidden in shadows as he kept his eyes on the opening. Every time a pedestrian passed, he grew tense. You weren’t sure what his plan was, you were only scared. You needed somewhere to sleep, even the car, but he was too nervous to leave you alone, even locked in the old Chrysler.

Then he marched forward. You watched him as he grabbed the silhouette and dragged it into the alley. The man was taller than him, his figure limned in sunlight as he pushed back against James and forced him against the wall. The two men struggled with each other as they grunted.

James caught a fist than an elbow, barely keeping himself from being thrown off his feet. He was holding his punches, refusing to hit the man.

“Steve, Steve!” He hissed. “Hey, punk, it’s me!” He snarled. “Bucky.”

The other man suddenly stopped. He held James, or this person he knew as Bucky, against the wall as he tried to see him through the dark. He released him and stepped back, stunned.

“How--” The man uttered.

“I can’t explain. Not here.” James said as he lowered his voice.

“It can’t be,” Steve gasped. “Bucky. What the hell are you doing scaring me like that?”

“I didn’t know how else… I spotted you just down the street but-- had to take a chance.” James said nervously. “And I-- We need a place to go. Just for the night.”

“Just for the night?” Steve asked. “Is that all?”

“Well, no, but--”

“Wait, you said ‘we’,” Steve interjected. “Who--”

Bucky waved two fingers and signaled you over to him. You stood from beside the stinking bins and neared as Luka asked what was going on. You hushed him and came to stand by James, just behind his shoulder. The moonlight shone past the tall apartments and you saw the man clearer as he saw you in turn. He smiled.

“Buck,” He said. “You--”

“My son, Luka,” James said pointedly then introduced you.

“How did you--”

“We can’t talk out here.” James urged. “I know it’s a lot to ask but I can’t take them anywhere else.”

“It’s nothing, pal,” Steve patted his shoulder. “Stay as long as you need.” He looked between you and James. “So, let me show you my place. Not much…” He inched towards the mouth of the alley. “But it smells much better than this hole.”

[itsuki-minamy]

PROFILE: ENOMOTO TATSUYA

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Enomoto Tatsuya

Terms of address: Enomoto y Eno

[PROFILE]

Birthday: April 30, Taurus

Blood type: A

Age: 23 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.73 cm in height. A little slender.

Face, hair: He wears glasses. Soft features. Long black hair.

Attire: Scepter 4 uniform.

Personal effects: Exclusive saber. Registered name "Tatsuya no Tsurugi".

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Strong against electronic devices such as personal computers.

· He is a nerd with a wide range of genders, so he is familiar with everything.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· Former fourth member of the platoon. Roommate is Daiki Fuse. Seiun Dormitory Room 3.

· Since he was a member of the Fourth Platoon, he has been on good terms with Fuse, Goto, and Hidaka.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

Member of the special work team in "Scepter 4".

Originally, he passed the civil servant exam and intended to work normally in the family registry section, but Munakata liked it and became a member of "Scepter 4" with the fourth room of the family registry section of the Office of Affairs Tokyo Legal on the front sign. Although he deviated a lot from the life plan he had hoped for, he is working with "Scepter 4" with a sense of purpose.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

Fuse, Goto, and Hidaka, who are close friends, are relatively common sense. The care is also good.

It's a long story when he talks about things that he is particular about.

It wasn't until he entered "Scepter 4" that he was a guy who appreciated his hobbies, but he didn't even think of a good cause, but he met Munakata, recognized his power and thinking, and does his best he can do.

[FATE, ENDING]

As a member of "Scepter 4", choose a path that helps Munakata even if he disobeys government orders.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

Originally a covered school, it was not suitable for battle, but he fights with his intelligence and ability to awaken as a member of the clan. Although his basic physical strength is the lowest among the members of the special force, his ability to use his abilities is very skilled.

[POWER]

C (General clan member.)

[LIKES]

Various hobbies. (Related to PC, large collection of books, toys such as robots and models, game consoles and analog games, etc.)

[DISLIKE]

A person who makes fun of someone else's hobby.

[HOBBIES]

Personal computer.

Hobbies are thorough and deep knowledge.

[FASHION]

He is not that interested in fashion. He often wears a plaid shirt with simple clothes.

[BODY]

Slender. There is not much pure force.

[INTELLIGENCE]

High. He has a great deal of experience in matters of particular interest.

[BELIEFS]

He likes everything that is good.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

Previous background, he is a college student. After graduation, he passed the civil servant exam and planned to work in the family registry section, but Munakata found him and became a member of Scepter 4.

[TIMELINE]

· 1990, Tatsuya Enomoto is born.

· 2010, Munakata wakes up as the "Blue King".

· 2011, Enomoto joins “Scepter 4”.

· 2012, he forms a special mission team in "Scepter 4". Enomoto becomes a member of the special mission team.

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is a private "Boku", and in a public setting "Watashi".

[TOWARDS REISI MUNAKATA]

He calls him "Captain".

He respects him even though he is a strange person.

[TOWARDS AWASHIMA SERI]

He calls her "Lieutenant".

She is a strong and cool woman and boss.

[TOWARDS FUSHIMI SARUHIKO]

He calls him "Fushimi-san".

He's not good with his personality, but on the inside he secretly feels sympathy. There are many situations where he works together on information processing related work, and in such cases, he relies heavily on him.

[TOWARDS AKIYAMA HIMORI, BENZAI YUJIRO, KAMO RYUHO, DOMYOJI ANDY]

He calls them "Akiyama-san", "Benzai-san", "Kamo-san" and "Domyoji-san".

He is currently a colleague of the Special Task Force, but treats them with an attitude towards older people.

Domyoji was the direct commander of the Fourth Platoon era, but the distance is close due to Domyoji's friendly nature.

[TOWARDS DAIKI FUSE, REN GOTO, AKIRA HIDAKA]

Friends who have been friends since the Fourth Platoon era. They are also friends who can goof around together.

[avintagekiss24]

Home > Steve Rogers

|| pairing: 1940′s!steve rogers x black!reader

|| word count: 3,224

|| warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of war, mention of Bucky’s death, canon divergence/canon adjacent

|| challenge: @cake-writes​ 1940′s challenge: “Loose lips sink ships”

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2020 O5: Steve’s Compass

|| note: I totally forgot about this challenge, lol. I signed up for it last year and it just totally slipped my mind until today. Which is why I’m posting so late (here in the US anyway) so I can make the due date of today, May 8th. This is canon adjacent? Canon Divergence? I don’t know, lol. All I know is it’s 1945 and Steve never crashes his plane. He goes home to get his girl. The timing might be a little off. I went off the MCU timeline, where he gets injected around 1939? When he’s around 21 years old.

The song reader is singing is Lover Man by Billie Holiday and her outfit is also inspired by Billie. I’m not sure of the gif credit, I got it from google. If you know, or if it’s yours, please let me know so I can credit you! Line credit once again goes to @writeyourmindaway​!

Brooklyn. 1945.

“The night is so cold and I’m so all alone. I’d give my soul just to call you my own.” 

You sway slowly as you croon into the microphone, the band playing behind you. You scan the small room, packed with bodies, all eyes on you as you sing. They sip on their drinks under the dim lights and there’s a low murmur from the people at the bar, but even they turn and lean against it to watch you, putting their orders on hold for just a few minutes. It’s still amazing to you - a transplant negro girl from Louisiana - having all these faces staring back at you, admiring you. Black faces, white faces, tan faces, it didn’t matter. They were all here for you.

The bar is a small one but word spread fast and within months, not a chair or table or stool could be found empty on a Friday or Saturday night when you were there. The cops don’t even really bother you or Sam, the owner and one of the first people to notice your talent, anymore. Some even stop by for a drink and a quick song. 

Your eyes flutter shut, “Got a moon above me but no one to love me. Lover man, oh, where can you be?” You hear the door creak open and close seconds later, but continue to sing, “I’ve heard it said that the thrill of romance can be like a heavenly dream. I got to bed with a prayer that you’ll make love to me.”

There’s a sudden commotion. You pop your eyes open, squinting as you try and make out the dark silhouettes in the corner. A few heads turn at the voices and loud shhhh’s ring out throughout the room. The noise dies away from the door, but the bodies are still crowded around - Jimmy, the bouncer, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, the bartender and maybe Sam, you can’t tell. In the center of them, a mess of blonde hair. 

----------

“Steve,” Sam whispers hard, “She doesn’t want you here, you know that.”

Steve’s shoulders slump a little as he takes a deep breath, “I haven’t seen her in six years.” He answers slowly, softly, “Please.”

Sam and Rhodey exchange glances before Sam takes a deep breath. He tosses his eyes back towards the stage to watch as you sing. Quick memories flash back to him from years before. Steve helping, well trying to help, set up the place when Sam first bought it. You and Steve slow dancing together in the middle of the empty floor. The three of you kicking back with ice cold Coca Cola’s, daydreaming about how big this place was going to be one day. 

He cuts his eyes back to the tall blonde in front of him. He didn’t believe it at first, when he saw a picture of him in the papers. The sickly, five foot something Brooklyn boy was now a towering six foot man. Rippling muscles, no lingering cough, a straight spine… this wasn’t the Steve Rogers that left for war. This is Captain America standing in front of him now. 

“Sam,” Steve starts, “Rhodey, you know me.” He pleads, “Please, just a minute of her time, that’s all I ask.”

Rhodey lets out a breath and throws his hand on his hip, “Just let the boy stay. He gets outta hand, Jimmy’ll throw him out.”

Steve cuts his eyes towards the burly Jimmy. He’s big, but he’s no match for the new, improved Steve Rogers, “I don’t want to hurt you, Jimmy.”

“Shit,” Jimmy swears under his breath, “I’ve read all about you. I don’t want you to hurt me neither.”

“One drink.” Sam warns, his eyes stern, “One drink and you gotta go. I don’t want her getting upset over the likes of you.”

Steve throws up his hands, “One drink.”

“You got it?” Sam asks, turning towards the soft-hearted Rhodey.

“I heard ‘ya. One drink, that’s it.”

Sam turns on his heel and moves off without another word. Rhodey waves Steve with him, walking back behind the bar to grab a tall glass, “Sip it slow, Rogers.”

Steve tips his head towards the older man and accepts the golden liquid that’s slid his way. He brings it to his lips and takes a small, slow sip as he turns to face the stage. His eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You’re just as beautiful as he remembered, although, a little more grown up now. You’re in a black sequin, form fitting dress - low cut to expose your… one of his favorite parts of you. A large white flower is pushed into your hair and a small smile quirks onto his face. He used to love bringing you flowers. 

He closes his eyes so he can hear you, just like he used to. Suddenly, it’s 1935 again. The two of you, with Bucky pulling up the rear (only there for you and Steve’s protection), walk slowly home from school. They’d wait for you everyday, right around the corner of your school, and as soon as the two of you were out of eyeshot of anyone, he’d link his fingers with yours and kiss you right on your cheek. With your fingers laced together, your arms swinging gently, you’d sing some old song, one he’s never heard before, one you’d have to explain to him as an old southern spiritual. Bucky would always know the songs, but he wasn’t as sheltered as Steve. He was worldly already at seventeen. 

Steve lets out a slow breath as he lets the words of your song seep into him.

Strange as it seems

Someday we’ll meet and you’ll dry all my tears

Then whisper sweet little things in my ears

He has every intention of doing just that. 

----------

“A- huggin’ and a-kissin’, oh, what we’ve been missin’. Lover man, where can you be?”

You smile as the band finishes and the room erupts in applause for you. You thank the band, extending a hand of your own for them before you announce a short intermission for a quick smoke and a drink. Jimmy helps you off the stage and ushers you towards the bar, where you’re met with a large smile and a ready made Manhattan. 

“That was beautiful, doll.” Rhodey compliments, handing you a cigarette before striking a match, “Just beautiful.”

“You’re too kind,” you giggle as you lean forward, placing the cigarette to your lips for him to light, “I was a little flat.”

He waves you off, scoffing quickly, and gives you a wink before he moves to another patron. You take a drag of your cigarette and let out the smoke slowly before flicking the butt and bringing your drink to your lips. You hum lightly as the sweetened liquor slides down your throat and settles in your belly, giving you an instant warmth. You swear, you don’t care where you go, Rhodey makes the best damn Manhattan in all of New York. 

“You sounded amazing up there.”

You freeze as the voice sounds to your right. Your lips part as the familiar voice swirls around your brain, activating a part that you thought you had left behind. You turn towards the owner and gasp at the person staring back at you. You recognize most of him. His eyes, that wispy blonde hair that he used to sweep away from his forehead, those big ol’ ears. But, that strong jaw, the height, the thickness… you didn’t believe it then -  the stories, the pictures -  but God, you can’t deny it now. 

Doesn’t make you any less mad.

You drop your eyes back to the glass in front of you and take another drag of your cigarette, “Thank you.” You say flatly. 

“I always knew you’d make it one day.” Steve says softly, “I knew people would love you.”

“Not the right people apparently.” You snap back.

You close your eyes and rub your temple as the anger you buried six years before starts to resurface. You feel his eyes on you, those same blue eyes that you used to see your forever in. You turn back towards him, blinking quickly. You don’t say anything, you just stare at him while he stares back at you. Anger flashes through you again as he gives you those puppy dog eyes, trying to make you feel bad for him. 

“Why are you here?” You ask bluntly, “I told Sam I didn’t want you here.”

“I wanted to see you. I had to.”

“For what? Hmm? To spring something else on me, Steve? You have a wife? A kid on the way?”

He sighs as you practically scream at him, “It’s been six years, you can’t honestly still be this mad at me.”

“A lifetime could pass, and I still wouldn’t want to see your face.” You stand, grabbing your drink, “Give the Germans a message for me, hm? Tell them that if you’re still breathing, they aren’t doing their job so well.”

You turn and push through the crowd of bodies before he can say another word. You finish your set some hour or two later and stay behind for a little attention, after all, you are a single girl. You feel those eyes on you the entire while but you pay him no mind. You laugh, you flirt, you nuzzle in a little closer than you usually would - pull on a few ties. A twenty seven year old girl should be a wife. The man you thought would make you an honest woman decided war was the better option. 

It’s almost midnight before you decide to head home. It’s a nice night, the sky clear and full of bright stars, so you wave Sam off when he offers to walk you home. He insists, but you know this neighborhood like that back of your hand. You wouldn’t feel safer in any other place in the world. So, he wraps your fur scarf around your neck and sends you on your way with a quick kiss on the cheek and a smile. 

You’re not but ten steps away from the bar when you first notice the presence behind you. You stop to light another cigarette before you call out to him, “I don’t need you to follow me.”

“I’m gonna walk you home.”

“I don’t need you too.” You reinforce.

“I’m going to walk you home anyway. I’ll keep my distance, I promise.”

You sigh heavily. The persistence of him hasn’t changed and the pounding headache you have won’t let you argue. You walk slowly, taking in the fresh air and the calm night as the one and only Captain America follows you home. He keeps his distance, just like he promised. Once you climb the steps to your stoop, you turn again, watching as he stops at the bottom of the steps. 

“I’m home now, thank you.” You say flatly again, clearing your throat.

He nods gently, “My pleasure.”

You blink at him, your lips parting as words threaten to fall from them. You open your mouth wider, even inhale to begin to speak, but you can’t. The words just won’t come. The memories of your last night come flooding back to you - the screaming, the tears. If you walk out that door, don’t you ever think about coming back. Do you hear me, Steve? Don’t you ever come near me again!

Your eyes start to water at the thought. You have to turn your head away from him, you have to stare down the street to try and stop the tears from falling. It doesn’t work. You drop your head as a single tear slips down your cheek and splatters on your patent leather pumps. Your chin trembles as you glance back up towards the sky and hold your hand over your mouth.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, his voice full of emotion, “I can fix it.”

“We had plans, Steve.”

“I know that,” he answers quickly, “You aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Loose lips sink ships, Captain.”

He takes a deep breath, “I don’t really care if you or not. Let me fix it - I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You shout as all of the pent up emotion you’ve held in for all these years comes pouring out onto your cheeks, “Fix it? How are you going to fix it? I’m just supposed to forget that you walked out on me? That you chose killing Germans over starting a life with me?”

“You don’t understand-”

“I don’t need to understand! You and Bucky both, you just -” 

Your words come to halt at the mention of his name. Steve drops his head as he swallows hard and has to close his eyes. Bucky’s mother didn’t even have a body to bury. You couldn’t breathe when you heard the news. His sister, Rebecca, came to tell you and you just… you hadn’t ever felt a pain like that. James Buchanan Barnes was good to you - loved you like you were one of his own. Not only had you lost the love of your life, you’d lost your best friend now too. 

You clear your throat, “You both just left. No warning, barely a goodbye and poof. Gone.”

“I thought about you everyday,” Steve says, his eyes still closed, “Every damn day. You were the only thing that kept me alive.”

You laugh sarcastically, “Don’t say that. I had nothing to do with keeping you alive, that shit you got pumped into you did.”

He shakes his head emphatically, “You kept my heart beating. That’s what I mean. I was fighting for you, and for Sam, and my mom and dad. I had a duty,” he stresses, his voice breaking under it, “You don’t understand what that meant to me, being able to fight.”

You roll your eyes but he continues anyway, “It had nothing to do with my love for you. I could have done it better, yes. I could’ve communicated with you better, yes, but it had nothing to do with how much I loved you. How much I love you even now… despite you wanting me dead.”

You sigh heavily as your words from earlier in the evening, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean that.” You answer softly.

He flashes a knowing smile, “Yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes again and shrug. You glance back down the street, sniffling softly as you hug yourself. You can’t lie to yourself, you are glad he made it home in one piece. You blink back at him, finding his big, wide, blue eyes on you still. He takes a step closer, resting his hand on the railing. He pulls something from his pocket, running his fingers over the gold cover before he pops it open.

He takes another breath as a small smile spreads on his lips. He turns it towards you and holds it out for you to take. You eye him suspiciously for a few seconds, but you take a step, and then another, and another until you’re within reach of the round object. You take it from his fingers and bring it to your eyes, taking a breath when you see a picture of yourself staring back at you.

“That’s my compass. I used it every day - I saw you every day. You are why I made it home.” He says softly, his watery eyes bouncing between yours, “I’m home now - for good, and that’s how I can fix it. I willingly offer you every day of my life from this minute on. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll get for you. I’ll protect you, I will love you, I will honor and treasure you. I’ll give you every piece of me.”

You hold a hand over your chest, for fear that your heart will leap right out of it. You drag in deep breaths as you shake your head, “I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know you.”

“You know me,” he answers quickly as he pushes up the stairs to meet you, “I’m still me, just in a new body, that’s all.”

“I don’t want this new body. I loved you just as you were.”

He grabs your hands, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips as you cry, “I know you did baby. Give me a chance, baby doll. Please? You’ll like this new body once you see it, I promise.” He smiles. 

You don’t. Deep in the back of your mind you want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and have him kiss your tears away and make love to you until you can’t stand it anymore. You want to wake up in his arms tomorrow and every day after that until you take your dying breath - but it’s not that easy. You were idealistic in highschool and stayed that way right up until the day he left, but you aren’t now. You can’t afford to be. It’s still only 1945. He’s still a white man, you’re still a negro woman. You’re still not able to mix, not that boldly anyway.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper.

He rests his forehead to yours, “It is that easy,” he whispers back, “Let me prove it to you.”

“No, it’s - they won’t leave us be. You can’t be with me - “

“Don’t you talk like that.” He says sternly, “I dare anybody to say anything to you. I’ll throw ‘em through a goddamn wall.”

“Steve - “

He cuts you off, bringing his finger to your lips. You close your eyes and take a few deep, calming breaths. God knows you want to believe him. You’ve been so angry for so long. He places his large hand to your chest, resting his palm right over your heart.

“I can make you love me again.” 

You inhale sharply as you look up at him, “I never stopped loving you, Steve. I never stopped.”

You moan when he crashes his lips to yours. He lifts you from your feet with complete ease, an ease you’ve never seen him display before, and crushes your now much smaller body to his. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you kiss him back hard, pulling back only to tilt your head before diving back in for more of him. You press your hands to the sides of his face as you catch your breath, his lips moving down to your chin and to your neck, placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin. 

You dig into your purse, pulling out your keys. He pulls back - out of breath, his lips flushed red and swollen as he stares up at you. You push your keys into the palm of his hand and wrap your legs around his waist as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. You close your eyes as he holds you tight, cradling an arm underneath your behind before he walks up to the front door of your building. He slips the key inside the lock and twists, pushing the door open, before you direct him to your humble apartment. 

You wake up in his arms the next morning, and every day after that until you take your last breath. 

[tobealostwanderer]

The Sun of the North - Chapter One

Oberyn Martell x OFC (x Ellaria Sand)

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of death, eventual romance, eventual smut, eventual polyamory, I know barerly anything about GoT deserves it's own warning, Oberyn being OOC, story diverts from the show and book.

Timeline: This is set just after the death of Elia Martell. So Doran and Oberyn should be around 31 and 21 I think? I tried to make the ages make sense to but it is a bit confusing at times so I am keeping them at those ages. Amore is 19 years old when she travels to Sunspear, and Mara is 11.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones nor Of Ice And Fire. The rights belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin. I only own my characters, Amore Snow and Mara Snow.

I have just seen 3 seasons of GoT when I was like 16 so I can't remember a lot from it. I do try to be as accurate as possible by using Wikis and other fanfiction but please bear with me if I mess up events.

Masterlist

Taglist

Wordcount: 1492

Westeros was a peculiar place. From the cold, icy planes of the North to the sweltering heat of the South. Danger lurked everywhere and it was easy to be used as a pawn in the Game of Life. The game that had claimed a lot of people in wars and negligence of Lords.

My parents had been claimed a long time ago. The war had reached our little village and anyone not willing to send out their sons were found guilty of conspiracy against the Lord of the land. And thus my parents had been killed because they only had borne daughters. My eldest sister died along them as she tried to protect us from the vile men. I was only eight years of age when I was given the care of my younger sister, just a babe, and told to run away with our trusty horse, Steps.

And now? We have learned to live on the streets. Going from town to town, begging for food. Mara helped, being so young and innocent she reeled in a lot of coin in our earlier days which helped me buy her warm clothes and milk, and me some broth.

And so we had wandered Westeros for years and years, never being able to be settle down but always longing for home. That is when I met them, on my one and sixth year of age. The Starks were kind people and cared for us like we were their own. I would never be able repay Rickard and Lyarra Stark for what they have done for me or Mara but they always told me not to worry.

And thus we grew up with Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna and Benjen. Brandon was the eldest, then me, Eddard, Lyanna, Benjen and Mara. We were happy even though I saw the worry lines on Rickard’s face grow every day as the Mad King reigned. But he found joy in all of us. He taught me how to fight a few moons after my one and fifth birthday and soon Eddard and Brandon helped me as well. I turned out to be a great fight with daggers, swift but deadly, and enjoyed pinning down the taller and stronger guys as much as I enjoyed a good honey nut treat.

But this happiness didn’t last for years. And soon the upcoming war would take my father and brother. And me? Well..

I was standing on the deck of the tiny ship. My skirts and hair flowed behind me as the harsh wind whipped around me. The Shivering Seas did well to it’s name. It was cold, but it was always cold in the North.

I was on my way to Dorne. To pay respects to the Martells. The news of the death of Elia and her children had reached us and I had begged Lyanna, my adoptive mother, to let me go to Dorne on behalf of the Starks. She argued that it wasn’t a good idea, that the people of Dorne and the Martells were hurting and visiting would be unwise after such a brutal end to their lives. I understood. After everything, she was hurting so much, she couldn’t bear to lose another child. I went anyway, in the dark of the night, on my own. I had left a letter for Mother, Benjen and Mara to read and disembarked on my way to Sunspear.

I had met Elia Martell a few times. She was a kind soul and the brutal death of her and her children had shocked me. The letter in which her death was announced described the horrid scene in which people found her. Little Aegon was most likely flung against the wall, his little head bashed against the stones and he likely died of impact. Rhaenys was stabbed many times, almost unrecognisable on the cold stone flooring. Elia was brutally raped many times, having been covered and smudged into her own children’s blood before her head was crushed, making her almost unrecognisable as well.

Nowhere in the letter it spoke of whoever could’ve done this abhorrent thing so as the news spread through Winterfell, whispers were heard of who it could be. I had my own ideas. It couldn’t be a normal soldier, they wouldn’t be able to crush someone’s skull like that. And with the Lannisters sieging the Keep, my guesses went out to the Mountain, Tyrel Lannister’s Right Hand.

A sigh left me as I mulled over the contents of that letter. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Mara was brutally murdered like that. And after Lyanna’s disappearance and death, and Father and Brandon being held hostage and being killed afterwards, I don’t think that my heart could survive anymore heartbreak. I rather be killed a thousand times in the most horrible ways then go through the heartbreak of losing someone close to me again.

And still I went to Dorne. I needed to find a bit of closure after everything that happened. I needed something else after being cooped up in Winterfell for so long. Living in fear there, it almost made me forget all the good memories I held there. I couldn’t walk through the halls where Lyanna’s, Rickard’s and Brandon’s ghosts walked. I couldn’t go there without Eddard, who was still in King’s Landing. I couldn’t face Mara and Benjen, who were still so young and happy. I couldn’t be in the same room as Mother, who was still mourning everything, trying to hold it together for the sake of the land.

The days on the sea seemed to flow together like the waves we moved on. It was all so blended together. Every night I sat with the Captain over maps as he explained where we were, how far away we were of Winterfell and Sunspear. It would take a while, but the men working the ship were good company and polite enough to me. Even though I was used to disgusting language and glances, they were kind enough to me nonetheless.

It took a week and a half. The weather went from icy cold to smothering hot and the dresses I had brought along were suffocating and I went about my day in just my chemise, linen skirt and a thin overdress. It was modest enough but kept me cooler than the woollen dresses in my trunk.

As Sunspear came in view, I grew nervous. I had send my personal raven to Prince Doran to alert of my arrival and had received a positive answer back but even so, this is the first time since Mara and I have been taken in by the Starks that I have travelled. And the first time ever that I travelled alone. And I wished that my stay would be welcome and without burden.

We docked and I smiled at the crew and thanked the Captain as I set my feet on solid land. I was a little unstable but managed to keep my composure as the welcoming party approached. Two bannermen with the banners of House Martell, a handful of guards and at front the second Prince of Dorne, Oberyn.

He looked tired and a bit stern. His lips pulled down in a frown, unlike the smiles he constantly wore the day I met him. I curtsied when he stopped in front of me, a soft “Prince Oberyn” left my lips as I met his eyes again, coming out of the curtsy.

“Milady Amore, welcome to Sunspear.” A guard said. I inclined my head to the guard in acknowledgement and met Oberyn’s eyes again. “My family sends it’s condolences to you and your brother, Prince Doran, after the passing of your sister and her children, Prince Oberyn. We are saddened by the news and House Stark wishes to be of help during this harsh time.” It didn’t seem like my forced words were of any comfort to the Prince. He looked even angrier with every word spoken. I hoped that my eyes could send him my true message. “I am sorry that I am the only one of my family willing to come and I hope my presence isn’t another slap in the face. I want to help..”

“Thank you for your words, Lady Amore.” Prince Oberyn said. His voice was low and grave. He mentioned me to walk with him so I slipped my arm in his open one and we made our way through Sunspear to the Old Palace.

The walk was quiet apart from the bustling and talking of people in the city as we made our way through. Oberyn was obviously hurting and it made me curse my words with every step I took. I squeezed his arm briefly to comfort him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me but I ignored it, just focusing on getting to the Palace.

Oh I hope that this was a good idea…

Chapter Two

Taglist: @pedropastelpascal,

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 6

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺   

This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[thepaladincosplays]

Return of Haku - Timeline

Hey y’all, Paladin here. Here’s that timeline I said I was gonna do a while ago! This’ll be updated over time with every additional fic, and as a little bonus there’s going to be themes for every fic. The titles are links to the fics, descriptions are links to the fics’ themes. Hope you enjoy!

A Friend Returns -

When Astro and Breeze visit the Field of the Fallen they’re treated with a visit from an old friend. One that has a few choice words, and actions, for them...

Father Issues -

A recurring topic pops into Visas’ mind when Astro leaves to train with his father in Tartarus, and after a heated argument she starts getting answers to a long unanswered question: Who was her father?

The Precursor -

Haku, imprisoned for fourteen years, breaks free from the Underworld’s most fortified prison, Tartarus. All along his escape he talks to a friend only known to him, carrying them in a vase...

Training and Gathering - 

As the Calamities and Handmaidens train and learn about the dangers the Cult of Haku possess, Haku himself, now free from his prison, searches for his followers...

The First Battle

Haku and his minions finally arrive, ready to succeed where they once failed. Ready to fight them, Visas, Astro, Breeze, and Slick prepare for a fight, although Haku has a few tricks up his sleeve...

Trapped

Visas awakens to find herself in a strange land, surrounded by unfamiliar faces; Higgs finds herself in hiding with no sign of her daughter no where to be found; meanwhile, Haku finds himself irritated as he rests after his transformation.

Kroviir and the Plan

Visas is ushered to Kroviir’s home to find out a terrifying truth while he’s away, and the Sentinels have already taken notice of her movement through the Sanctuary; meanwhile, after talking with Typhon the Grandmaster informs Astro about what he has to do to rescue the hostages Haku has taken.

Freedom Through Fear

When Visas finally meets Kroviir she’s met with stunning news, along with a few uninvited guests…

The Rescue

Astro, Breeze, Sarasim, and Higgs all enter the castle grounds to rescue both the hostages and the Handmaidens, as well as recover the Handmaidens’ seeing stone; however, Higgs has other plans she wants to attend to. In the end, the group finds themselves in an unpleasant situation…

The Truth and the Accord

When Visas awakes in a cell beneath the elder council’s chambers, she’s treated to unpleasant news about her situation; Haku fulfills his promise of rewarding one of his minions, and brokers a deal with Glossaryck; the Grandmaster arrives with eye opening news for the elder council, and untold secrets for Visas…

The Ceremony and the Tournament

Haku and his minions reach the next step in Haku’s plan to bring the Precursors back to Mewni; when Astro and the others return from the castle raid, they’re met with a messenger who explains what Haku has in mind for fighting them again…

The Tournament: Hava the Raven

The Resistance Against Haku have arrived with all of their fighters. After a brief moment alone the Grandmaster returns and reluctantly shares a brief glimpse into her past…

The Tournament: A Better Goliath

While the tournament begins, the Grandmaster attempts a method to draw out Visas’ magical ability to help turn the tide of a potential battle against Haku; meanwhile, Puff stands off against Ar-Baruk in the first match of the tournament. With a threat against not just his life, but the life of the people he cares about, the young Goliath must muster up all of his strength against his adversary.

The Spirit Realm: A Family Reunion

The Grandmaster’s plan in motion, Visas finds herself in yet another strange land. She meets two particular individuals that see no threat in her, while one offers the wisdom and knowledge she needs to fight Haku…

The Tournament: A Truth Unknown

With Ar-Baruk defeated, the Cauldron Child meets Sirius in the center of the arena to face off against him; however, the Queensguard captain has other plans in mind than a fight. He wants to know the truth behind the Cauldron Child - what he is, and more specifically why he rebelled and what he wants to gain.

The Tournament: A Fair Fight

Visas awakens from her trip to the Spirit Realm and asks the Grandmaster an impertinent question; Sen faces off against Viper in their match, prodding at a topic they share: Haku.

The Tournament: A Heated Defeat

Ozedus and Amber face off, but with an ace up his sleeve the necromancer tries very little to actually fight the Septarian Princess. After an unexpected turn of events, Haku explodes in anger at his Cult and is issued a challenge by a familiar face.

The Final Battle: Familial Fighting

Kroviir takes a stand against Haku, who speaks his mind about his banishment while decimating his younger twin. With the fight only having just begun, Visas throws herself into the ring.

The Final Battle: Surmounting the Odds

Visas finds herself in a familiar setting; Haku attempts to put an end to the resistance against him, but finds himself quite outmatched even with his astronomical powers at his disposal...

The Final Battle: Evened Odds

A brief glimpse into Haku’s past; after his brother threw himself in front of Visas to protect her, Haku intends to ensure he won’t be impeded by her again. In the end, only one of them will survive…

Victory

With Haku defeated, Astro is requested by Sarasim to tend to a matter he’s been tasked with by the Grandmaster; in the Sanctuary, Visas and the Grandmaster are taken to a certain individual that the Grand Elder wants to speak with.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

X

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you. 

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”