#Wild Hunt Bucky

[cowboygimmick]

a girl on here used to hate me bc I hated her comfort character (Bucky Barnes) but would never admit it, just passive aggressively police my every post instead of, like, blocking or even unfollowing me, she sent me anonymous asks every time I came close to slipping up, called me a "personality-less white woman in a leather jacket," got unbelievably mad and vagued about me when I gently suggested she unfollow me (there were a lot of "I can't believe I ever thought you were an ally, I'm done trusting white girls"), and would get upset at me for reblogging stuff that black fangirls would post about racism in fandom bc she didn't like the language used.... instead of getting upset at the OPs bc she knew she'd get rightfully dragged for criticizing how they talked about their experience.

the last post she made about me after I soft blocked her went something like "oh so thats how it is.... well I got receipts, bitch :)" receipts for what? me being confused about why you're anonymously yelling at me about how I'm infantilizing a black character by writing sick comfort headcanons about them?

[middlingmay]

Coach Bucky and Gale, alone in the locker room... (3.5K)

Shoutout to @johncleven who sent me a fic request for something set in a locker room and let me run wild with it. I know this isn't what you originally had in mind, but I hope you like it all the same!

A fun romp of a fic set in my Footballer!John AU. This comes after the last installment at Christmas, after John takes up his position as head coach of a veteran's charity football team.

Summary: Football coach John Egan and his report boyfriend, Gale Cleven have some fun roleplaying in the locker room after hours.

Enjoy! Wordcount is over 3.5K so I've put most of it under the cut. Get's a li'l filthy, just to warn you.

.

It was a quirk of John's, collecting vintage football strips. But unlike most collectors, he favoured the shorts over the shirts. People hired experts in hunting down shirts all over the world with this misprint, or that stitching from this year, and that particular game. But not John.

"It's too much pressure, Buck." He'd told Gale once when he questioned his oddity. "You have to keep them pristine and perfect, and God forbid you touch 'em without gloves. And do you have any idea the kind of pretentious assholes who collect football shirts? You think I want to be part of their circle jerks? No thank you."

So he collected the shorts instead. The earlier the better. The black 1997-'99 home shorts of FC Bayern Munich with the red splash and white stripes. The high cut of the white Aberdeen away summer shorts with the Umbro diamonds and geometric detailing of 1990-1992. The 1980s Manchester City burgundy set with white and blue stripes, and the classic bold red block shorts with the yellow liver bird of Liverpool, used from the 1970s well into the '80s.

Which sat very high on the thigh. They were several sizes too small for John to ever wear, but on Gale they sat perfectly. Just below his belly button, pressed tight against the toned muscle and trim fat of his middle. Snug around the groin, and they left most of his long, muscular legs on display.

It meant that he felt every bit of John's size eleven sneaker covered in an expensive, sturdy, matte black leather where it sat perched on the bench between Gale's spread legs, brushing against the skin and hairs of his thighs and the soft clutch of the underside of the silk-soft shorts.

"What the hell do you call that today?"

Gale curled his toes in his boots and clamped down on his muscles to stop himself from wriggling close to the pressure of John's foot. With one foot on the floor and one foot on the bench between Gale's legs, John loomed over Gale. His elbow rested on his knee and he looked down at him, almost fatherly.

Dressed in those vintage shorts, true to the shamelessness and carefree fashion of the '80s with how short they fell below the crease of his thigh, and a skintight compression shirt that protected players against chafing and perspiration, Gale felt simultaneously starkly aware of his body, and much smaller than John than he actually was.

He normally resented any implication towards delicacy and softness, but sometimes, just sometimes, he didn't mind when it was with John. Gale had to fight and claw and scrap for everything he got in life, even his relationship. John's steady determination to take care of him with every inch Gale allowed was a relief sometimes, an opportunity to let go and hand off the reins to someone else, and trust they weren't going to derail his hard fought and hard-won life.

John shifted his foot until Gale felt the pinch. His eyes fluttered shut and his teeth left purpling dents in his lip.

"I said, what was that today, Cleven? Because it sure as shit wasn't anything I told you to do."

"I'm…I'm sorry." Gale wasn't sorry at all. How could he bring himself to regret a single thing that had led to him here under the mercy of John's heel and his gaze.

"Coach."

"John."

"You say, I'm sorry coach."

He shifted his foot away from the crook of Gale's groin, and not even Gale's desperate clutch on the back lip of the bench kept him from lurching forward for the hem of his pants in a desperate grab to bring him back.

But the foot hit the ground in a disappointing clack.

"You let me down today, Cleven."

Gale's stomach lurched. Thick, calloused fingers skirted along his jaw, and anchoring balm in the face of John's disappointment. They settled under Gale's chin and forced his head up at such an angle, it stretched the front of his throat and made it difficult to swallow back the build-up in his mouth.

You, Gale wanted to swear through a mouthful of John's leather belt. And maybe John read it in his wide, wet eyes and parted lips. Because he tssked anyway and put a whole two feet between them.

"I think you need a lesson in focus." John crooked two fingers, his other hand propped on his hip. "On the floor."

Gale looked down. The floor was shiny and smelled of lemony chemicals. Freshly cleaned.

"Gale. Get on the floor."

Gale slid off the bench onto his knees and sat back on his haunches.

But John still wore that sad frown and twisted purse of his lips. It made Gale want to collapse into those thighs which no amount of fine tailoring could slim down, and beg John what he wanted to stop looking at him like that, so he could just give it to him.

"Down further." John stepped back and Gale slapped clumsy hands against the rubberised flooring as he swallowed up John's retreat until his was pressed stomach down, leaning up on his forearms. His legs kicked up, entirely without his asking. Like a school girl prostrate before her crush.

John took two careful steps closer. One heavy sneaker slipped into the space between his forearms, where his chin might be if he laid face down on the floor.

"Further."

Gale almost wished he hadn't foregone the boots and knee-high socks as he lowered his legs back to the floor and the chill of the floor seeped in and cooled the tense muscles. Only John's sneaker protected Gale's face from the same fate. Gale swept his palms to press under his shoulder and leaned down and down until his mouth and his nose hovered above the leather.

John would be cross if he drooled all over it. He swallowed back a mouthful.

John didn't say anything, but Gale felt the weighted burn of his stare on his nape, the flex and shift of his shoulders and hips as he settled into position, the curve of his ass that felt like it was only just hidden under the shorts, despite the tiny, entrapping pair of briefs he'd been made to wear under them.

Goosepimples erupted up his arms and down his legs, all the little hairs standing on end.

"How about we start with twenty?"

Gale slipped for a moment and grinned into the floor. John did love an excuse to see Gale get physical. He adjusted his form, set his wrists under his elbows, rolled his shoulders back and pressed up. He held it for a sec, letting John admire the line of him. He always waxed lyrical about the lines and angles and juts and refined strength in Gale's body, so he flexed his heels up and down under the guise of perfection his push-up position. He made a show of making sure his ass wasn't sticking out and held himself high up on his arms to show of the strength up his forearms, biceps, triceps.

He heard the tiniest thump of John's toes tapping inside his sneakers. And just as Gale started to lower himself down to complete his first push-up, John lifted the tip of his foot and stuck it under Gale's jaw tilting his head up.

It was a long stretch, and an uncomfortable distance for his eyes to look up. But it was worth it when he saw John gazing down at him, square jaw tight and eyes burnin'.

"Count 'em."

"One." Gale followed John's foot back down.

For the first ten, John simply watched him, sharp and critical like he did his players when they'd performed less than their best and John knew it. It powered Gale's body and his ego like little else and sent him tearing through the next ten with ease.

At fifteen, John started to loop his body, and Gale's rhythm slowed and fell in time with his steps, burning his muscles up a little more than the quicker pace he had before.

"Eighteen. Nineteen." At the top of number twenty, John lifted his foot and pressed it against the thin, barely-there material of Gale's shirt. It was a light touch at first, the simple weight of John's foot. Then he pressed harder. And harder. Until Gale could feel the skin of his back pinch and his muscles had to push against the downward force of John's sneaker.

"You said twenty," he gasped as he tried to hold against the unspoken order to lower himself back down. "John—"

"Coach."

"Coach! You said twenty. You said twenty."

"But look at you," John crooned and Gale didn't have to look at him to know exactly which of his smiles he wore right now. "Not even out of breath. Not a lick of sweat on you. Do it. Again."

With a final push John brought Gale down onto the floor with a grunt. He kept his foot on his back, making Gale press on through the weight. As he rose and fell, rose and fell, his skin rubbed against the hard sole of his sneakers, interspersed with slivers of metal, specially designed for walking around football pitches as he coached. he felt the skin ruddy and redden, fancied he could start to make out the pattern of the treat by the time he got to twenty again, and was so distracted when John's heel slipped into the curve of the small of his back, Gale didn't get chance to muster a single shred of resistance when John pushed him down to the floor again.

"Ah, God." His erection twitched and pulsed against the floor. He couldn't stop the helpless, tiniest thrusts against it searching for the barest modicum of relief. John was so gentle and good to him all of the time, but when he got like this, focused and a little mean, a little physical? Gale never stood much of a chance at any kind of stamina.

"Hmm." John toed a rough line down the small of his back and over the crease of his ass. He sunk his heel into the meat of it, and Gale nearly bit through his lip. The copper was bittery sweet. "We're not doing this right if you're enjoying it so much."

He shifted his foot and it rucked up the short hem of the shorts and Gale felt John's sneaker against the bare curve of skin that peeked out of the briefs.

"M'not. I'm not, coach. I promise."

"It's no good?" That fucker. That smug-faced tricky little bastard. It was heavenly. Hurt in all the right ways and had the back of Gale's eyes burning just as much as his muscles and the heat in his belly. But he couldn't let on or it would ruin the game, and John would stop.

So he clamped his mouth shut, and locked his muscles until the shook from the effort of not rolling between the twin resistance of the floor and John's foot pressing on him.

"Again."

After the first two push-ups, Gale doubted he was going to survive this. The push against John's foot had it massaging his ass and slipping over the seam of him; whilst the press down against the floor jolted against his cock begging for any kind of touch. Twin agonies derived to drive him out of his mind.

His arms were shaking by the time he got to five.

John tutted in false sympathy. "You don't look too good, Cleven. You need to stop? Learned your lesson?"

Like hell.

He pushed down and up, down and up. Then he heard John sit on the bench behind him. And he slipped his foot down further, trailed the hard curve of the toe of his sneaker down Gale's ass, round over his thigh, and all the slow slide under until it pressed against the crowded pouch of his briefs and where he strained under the shorts.

He pushed in hard.

"Oh, God. John. John."

"If I have to tell you one more time…"

"Coach! Fuck, I…"

"You're not done." John's voice was rough and Gale shivered at the only evidence he had that John was just as affected by this as he was, lounging on that bench, watching Gale from behind as he made him rut against his foot like an animal. In his mind he pictured the wide sprawl of his thighs, the strained fabric of his beautifully tailored, navy blue dress pants. The shine of his lips where he licked at them as he tried to catch his breath.

"Keep going, or you can pack your shit up and get the hell out of my locker room."

Gale barely swallowed a whine and pushed down, his arms shaking with the effort not to collapse. John made him push his foot down as he went, and kept the pressure on as Gale pushed himself back up. No relief. No reprieve. Just a constant, blinding pressure as he shook and forced his way through push up after push up. His cock was no longer dripping so much as it was leaking. John's foot rubbed and pressed and wiggled against him. Started dragging back and forth in little pulses and Gale couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers that fell from him with every exertion. His pace picked up, even through the sweat that curled around his forehead, off his hair and splattered on the floor.

The simmering heat in his belly started to bubble and forth. His moans were getting louder, his form sloppy, and behind him John rumbled straight from his chest,

"Fuck that's it, baby. Almost there."

Gale choked on his own spit and a little felt out in a sliver of drool as John pressed against him and stimulated him in earnest now.

"Coach. Coach. I—Jesus. Fuck, I…" Gale was babbling. Nonsensical and desperate pleas to the man above and behind him. For it to keep going, For it to end. For anything he deemed fit to give him.

He gave him it all. Whether from Gale's pleading or his own painful impatience, but John pressed his foot against Gale so hard, that he felt the sensitive skin of his sack pinch like the knife needed to cut through the knot it pierced through Gale's pitiful last defences. He collapsed onto one elbow as his other hand plunged down to clutch John's ankle and keep it there as he rode and rode out his pleasure. The minimal space left inside his tight briefs flooded with sticky heat, and kept flooding. Gale wasn't in a locker room, but somewhere above and outside time and space as he chased the trembling heat and frothy exaltation of his orgasm as far as it would go.

By the time he came back to, his mouth was blabbering against the floor, and he shook from head to toe.

A noise came from John, a little wounded, but like the good boy he was he stayed still. They weren't done.

"You—" his voice shook and John cleared his throat. Shifted it lower and calmer and more in character. But even then he couldn't quite shake the tremor. The softness. "You've got something of mine. Give it back."

The shorts. He meant the shorts. Gale gazed stupidly, on his belly, down the line of his body, realising he'd have to move to get them off.

"One minute, coach, please. Just one. I can't," he gasped through sharp breaths and spittle, "I can't."

"You can. And you will. Give."

Gale cursed and let out helpless little noises as he worked the shorts over his hips, his sensitive cock brushing against the unforgiving floor. Once under the curve of his ass, gale managed to flop over, and wiggled and kicked his legs, but the shorts were too tight, and wouldn't budge. One look at Gale sent his head thumping back against the ground. His eyes blazed with heat and he looked like a starving man staring at his favourite meal.

"I will leave you here, if you don't give me those now, Cleven."

Gale heaved himself up, the idea of being out of John's sphere right now too much to risk. Shaking hands shoved the shorts down his legs and over his feet, and he threw them in John's direction, before leaning back on the palms of his hands, panting.

John felt all over the slippy fabric, inspecting for any signs of wetness or sticky texture, but there were none. Gale's brief had seen to that.

"Good," he murmured, surprised and pleased and Gale flooded with a different kind of warmth when he added, "You did good, Cleven. You did exactly what I wanted."

He let a tentative, exhausted smile twitch across his face.

"But now I want those, too."

John nodded at Gale's crotch, nostril's flaring. His briefs. Wet and damp and squidgy with his release. They were uncomfortable and messy, and—

"I want them. Give them here."

Gale couldn't look away as he sat up straight, slipped one thumb and then another under the waistband and slowly peeled the ruined briefs off himself. Gale looked at John and John's looked at his prize, as Gale peeled them down one leg then another, trying not to get himself any messier than he already was.

Gale held the briefs in his hand, pinching the dry fabric of the waistband between two fingers. He looked between then and John.

"This what you want? Coach?"

Before Gale could tease him, John's hand snapped out and clamped over his wrist, and hauled Gale's whole body into the space between his legs. From the floor, Gale's head fit perfectly in the crook of John's thighs, and he let his head fall there against the ample padding of one of them, and stared unblinking as John yanked the briefs out of his grip, and unfastened belt, buckle, button and zip with one hand. He drew himself out, and thank God Gale was already on the floor, because the sight of John drawing himself out of his pants and wrapping Gale's briefs full of his some around his cock and using them to jerk off would have brought him to his knees.

It looked painful. Hard and swollen and red and straining. Gone too long without attention, love, worship. Gale licked his lips. His hands twitched to touch, and John noticed.

He smirked down at Gale as he denied him. "No. You just sit there and watch." He groaned through a twist of his own wrist. "Maybe—maybe next time you'll— l-listen. Fuck. Then I might let you touch."

Gale's head felt heavy against John's thigh, and his long fingers white-knuckled their grip on the fabric on John's pants. John worked himself at speed, the tenons in his neck straining, his chest heaving.

"Fuck, your panties are so wet."

Oh my god.

"And all for me?"

Gale nodded weakly. His trembling hadn't subsided. Even when he wasn't touching him, John had him riding that edge of overstimulation.

John was almost there. The muscle in his thigh was twitching and his stomach clenched under the crisp white shirt he wore. His grip on himself tightened and a well of absolute filth fell from his lips the way it always did when Gale edged him and he finally got close enough to the edge to feel it.

"Look so fucking good on that floor, Gale. Under my foot and doing what you're told? Shit. Shit. What else would you do for me? Huh? Fuck. What else would you do?"

Gale took a risk and pressed a line of kisses down John's inseam. Just as he reached the apex of his thigh he looked up at John through his lashes and said, "Use you. To get what I want."

John's free hand snapped to Gale's hair and yanked. Gale gasped as his throat was exposed and he heard John curse and moan and felt him thrash through the throes of his orgasm. "Fuck. Fuck. Buck!"

It took minutes before John's hand turned to petting him instead. Gale looked up to see John weakly removing the now sodden briefs and gingerly setting them on the bench next to him.

He made grabby hands down to Gale. "Get up here."

Gone was the clip of Coach Egan. In his place, the attention-greedy and devoted Bucky.

Gale let himself be pulled up and gathered onto John's lap. His curly head dropped to Gale's chest and his arms wrapped all the way around Gale's waist. Anchoring and soothing both, and Gale scraped his fingers through John's curls and smelled the sweet scent of his hair.

Eventually John pecked sweet kissed against his cloth-covered chest and rested his chin in the valley between his pectorals. His eyes were bright with contentment whilst Gale's were heavy and sleepy and sated.

"Was that what you had in mind?" He asked, almost shy. John and Gale were adventurous in bed before they got together. They'd never been shy about exploring new things in their relationship. But those occasions when Gale wanted John to take the reins, Gale knew he worried about pushing too hard or swinging too far out of their dynamic for Gale's comfort.

"Mhm," Gale murmured against his forehead. "Though buy bigger briefs next time, Jesus. Damn things nearly cut off the circulation."

John rubbed a soothing hand over his flank. "I couldn't risk it, Buck. They had to keep everything…contained."

"Oh, so you can risk my cock but not your vintage 1980s Liverpool shorts?"

John's silence was far more indecisive than Gale would have liked.

"Boy—" Gale moved to get off, but John clamped down and pinned him there.

"I'll buy bigger next time; I'll buy bigger next time," he giggled into Gale's neck. "You bring a chance of clothes?"

Gale nodded to his backpack in the corner.

"Get dressed, and we can go home."

But Gale didn't budge. "We can't leave the place like this, John." Drips of both of their slick had escaped the confines of the briefs and were dotted across the floor and the bench. A sizeable puddle of Gale's drool also lay there where his mouth had panted and watered as John put him through his push-ups.

"Buuuck." John whined like a child.

"You remember what the cleaners said?"

"Come on!"

"If they find one more unexplained bodily fluid in here, you're goin' to have a strike on your hands. You want that? You want to be the one to clean up after Crosby? Or explain to Brady why he can still smell Bubbles' socks the next day?"

John flinched at the thought of an irate, upset Brady.

"You get dressed, I'll get the mop."

[dullgecko]

Ok so we’ve had Riz accidentally becoming human sized, but have you considered the rest of the bad kids accidentally/being cursed to be goblin sized or full goblin themselves.

I’m honestly leaning more towards they’re all goblins since then they get the full goblin experience with all the instincts and biology quirks that come with it, also a curse that turns you into a goblin definitely seems like something some jerk of a long dead wizard would create.

Like gorgug is absolutely freaking out cause suddenly he’s small and he has to look up constantly and he’s so used to not using his full strength for anything and now he has to put his whole body into just opening a door, on the plus side he’s now the right size to give his parents proper hugs.

Fabian has to jump on and scramble onto every piece of furniture and everyone at school keeps trying to pick up! The whole thing’s incredibly undignified, plus especially with fighter as his main class he has the strongest urge to pounce on and hunt anything fast moving he sees.

Adaine is used to be quite and unseen thanks to her upbringing, which when she was an elf was still nit ok but atleast you could look away from her for a second and not have her disappear under a table etc.

Fig of course uses her new found sneakiness and increased senses to be an absolute menace, she’s taken to running up suprise biting peoples calves then running away before then can even spot her.

Kristen is trying to use the experience to learn more about being a goblin and kinda what Riz experiences just day to day, also Bucky definitely see her at school and has a mini freak out about her being cursed and turning into a ‘monster’ for turning against Helio (nothing against Bucky he’s just 14, heavily indoctrinated with 2 overbearing racist parents and with what he sees as direct evidence of what they’re teaching/telling/warning him in the form his sister)

Xx

Riz is having a bad time because he's trying to wrangle his entire party and they are not at all used to the level of anxiety that comes with being a goblin. They are small, they are prey animals, and he's trying to drag them through the hallways of the school in the middle of the day so he can set them up in the library and start working out how to fix the problem.

All five of them are clustering together as close as possible and on high alert and snappy. Fig, Gorgug and Fabian are the worst of them because they have the urge to protect everyone else.

Adaine has to be holding someones hand at all times or she will literally burst into tears from panic but they need her to focus because she'll have to research to break the curse and turn them back to normal.

They don't all look like normal goblins because their normal ancestry carried over slightly with the change. It's not helping things because it's such an oddity seeing something other than a Chaos Mountain or Bastion City goblin in the school and people keep trying to get a closer look.

Adaine as a high elf is the oddest looking, she's a pearly white with much larger ears that droop down at the ends with a much longer tail. She looks the closest to the goblins that stayed hidden the the fae wilds and escaped being controlled by maglubiyet and kidnapped to the material plane. She honestly looks like if someone wanted to make a marketable toy of a goblin and made them 'cuter' to be more appealing.

Gorgug is much taller and stockier than Riz but looks very close to him in colouration. His ears are a little smaller, and his tail is shorter but much thicker.

Fig is bright red and has little horn-nubs on her forehead. Her ears are slightly longer and thinner than Riz's and she almost looks like an imp and a goblin got crossed. The tuft on the end of her tail hides a wickedly sharp backwards facing set of spikes, similar to the point on the end of an imps tail.

Kristen could be mistaken for Riz's cousin they look so similar like this, if you discounted the hair colour. She has a lot more visible freckles than Riz though and her stripes are darker.

Fabian looks like an Ixalan goblin, goblins that evolved to run around on ships out at sea who are skilled at scaling the rigging, but with far darker skin. His tail is actually prehensile and can hold his full body weight in a way Riz's can't. He's also a little bit stockier but still has a hard time climbing things as much as Riz does because he's not used to it. The tail being much stronger than Riz's is useful, because the rogue has to grab it SEVERAL times to stop fabian chasing after things. Riz thinks, aesthetically, he's just as pretty as a goblin as he was as a half elf.

They're all slowly starting to realise that oh no Riz actually has a fairly high level of self control, and so do most goblins they've met before. Wrangling their instincts takes a lot of work and their rogue is constantly trying to get them back on task as he drags them through the school to the library to set them up somewhere dark and quiet where they'll settle down for a while. They're also realising why he sometimes snaps and gets cranky when they flick a light on when he's in a room. Everything is WAY too bright and hurts their eyes.

Riz ends up setting up his entire party in a study room in the library with the lights off while they start hunting through books for a way to break the curse. Adaine calmed down a lot in the smaller darker room and is happily flipping through the books with her incredibly small version of Boggy perched on her head.

Gorgug ends up conked out napping in the corner because oops, it's daytime and they're nocturnal now.

Fig gets bored and cant resist the urge to go cause mischeif, the librarian ends up catching her and bringing her back once she tires herself out with her biting game.

Kristen is surprisingly chill about the whole thing and tries to go to her classes as normal, right up until her brother sees her and starts saying some very hurtful stuff. She abandons her idea at that point and comes back to cuddle sadly with Gorgug and Fig where they're napping in the corner.

Fabian, at some point, finally registers something in his brain and whispers something in Riz's ear before dragging him off. They disappear for nearly half an hour and Riz returns disheveled with a thousand yard stare, a split lip, and a VERY smug and equally dishevelled looking Fabian. If anyone asks him what happened he just says bathroom and nothing else.

Riz just goes back to helping Adaine look for the way to break the curse without comment. Fabian sitting down next to him and playing on his crystal because he doesnt understand any of the wizard shit they're doing but keeps intertwining his tail with their rogues.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

An Invisible Thread | Illyrian Warrior!Bucky x Fae!Reader | Oneshot - 5k

After the war with Hybern your village is left defenceless. Despite only having picked up a sword to play with your brothers, you’re sent into the wilds of your island to track down the monster that has been stealing from the farms. 

But the monster is also on the move, and it won’t just be your limited skills as a hunter that are required to tame it or just your village that's pushing you to find it.

Warnings: the biggest warning here is Illyrian!Bucky, 18+ for language maybe, nothing scary here. Injuries, whump, hurt/comfort, some fluff, ACOTAR themes including fated mates/mating bonds. Rated W for whump and F for fluffy

Created for @buckybarnesevents Alternate Juniverse with all four prompts - fae, hunter, nurse and monster.

A/N: No ACOTAR knowledge required apart from Illyrian’s have big bat like wings and are hot as fuck. 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

You stood at the edge of the village, one hand on the pommel of your father’s sword and the other tucked into the fur lined pocket of your cape. 

After the war with Hybern the village’s protector’s had been depleted and, though you’d never shied away from practising with the bow and sword alongside your brothers, you had never imagined that you would become your communities only hope of protection. More suited to healing wounds than causing them, you shied away from the responsibility as much as you could. Spending your time replenishing your stocks of herbs and ointments and checking on the older residents of the village. 

Honestly, you hadn’t imagined there’d be any need for you to protect anyone. But then, isolated as you were on the Western Isles, you’d never thought that war could touch you either in your community of lesser fae. You’d never been bothered before, content to live quietly and ask for nothing. Yet here you were, back to the decimated houses and cottages of your villages, poised to leave them to hunt a monster. 

If the rumours were true, though, rumours of a beast running amok in the wild forest along the coast, then you had no choice. 

With a final look back at the squat white washed cottage where you’d left your mother, you set out towards your destiny. 

Across the island, by the shore, a towering figure bent to drink from the ice meltwater trickling into the sea beyond. 

Blood dripped from their open mouth and they howled as the salt water mixed with the fresh. They raised themselves again and slunk back into the shadows of the forest, following the waterline. 

—

As you trudged you recounted the tale the farmers had told at the inn the night before. A huge beast, black as night, had been spotted raiding their barn. The island was small enough that everyone knew each other, every sheep and cow and ploughed furrow was accounted for by name and the farmers shared the large barn that stood guard over the far end of the open fields. No stranger could have arrived without them knowing, no stranger could have tied their boat without the fishermen being alert. 

But this thing was no man, it was a beast, a fury, sent to torment them and the assembled village had turned to you. 

If it truly was a beast, something that could fly and steal cattle and destroy crops as the farmers claimed then you had no clue how you would slay such a thing. Your sword was heavy and sharp, but your skills were still basic no matter how you tried, this was not your calling. Your bow was taught and your arrows true, but practising with your brothers was a jest. 

After the weeks and months without them, perhaps it would be a blessing to sacrifice yourself for the village as they had. To be relieved of the torment of their passing. 

Sighing you pulled a hard biscuit from your pack and continued on into the dense trees that occupied one side of the island. You could remember far enough back to when the forest took over almost the whole island, your brothers and father clearing a space for the now well tilled farmland that insulated the village from the wildness beyond. The forest and the farm lived together side by side, each animal and plant having its own sacred place within the system. Each farmer conscious of keeping the wheel moving each season. 

No one had ever feared the forest as they did now. 

Your first night amid the trees past uneventfully, used to spending most of your time outside the creatures of the night didn’t scare you, neither did they fear you, choosing to approach your fireside. You weren’t entirely convinced of their being a beast within the forest either, no beast liked to cross the salt sea from the mainland, even if they could escape the Prison, there would be little for a monster here. You told yourself over and over, as sleep took you, that any monster would head to the middle, and not to the Isles. 

It seemed more likely that there was something trapped in the trees. Nevertheless you made sure to set traps around the clearing before finally laying down to sleep. 

There was a light in the forest, smoke pluming briefly before dying down into soft trails of grey that mixed with the iron sky, fading into the stars as the moon rose. Tempted by the smell it approached, its gait unsteady in the soft ground, weighed down by its own body, blood still spilling into the dry leaves. 

Closer, closer,  heaving its mighty body along the ridge of rocks that crawled across the middle of the island. It had been this way before, it had taken vegetables and savoured the earthy taste of them, raw and unwashed against its tongue. It had slipped into the barn and stolen a pail of fresh milk, still warm and buttery. 

Perhaps the smoke meant more food. But its body was tired, it groaned and slumped against a tree, wrapping into itself, a darkness thicker and colder than the world around. 

In the morning you kicked dirt over the small fire, putting out the flame. The forest was still yours to protect, even if it did harbour a threat. 

You’d sharpened your sword before sleeping, leaving it unsheathed by your side. Every arrow in your quiver had new fletching, the ash carefully crafted from the few small trees the village grew at its centre, a protection against any further cruelty coming to your shores. 

The forest was alive in the brisk early morning air, the sky pink and lilac through the canopy, rising with the mist like a slumbering dragon, stretching and yawning into a bright spring day. 

As you ventured deeper you found the ground already disturbed. When you were younger you may have doubted yourself, wondering if the tracks were your own. But you could navigate well enough now, the sun high above you leaning into the west of the island, its heat peaking. 

Whatever it was that had stumbled through here had done so some days ago, dragging itself if the scars in the soft soil were true. It was larger than you as well, larger by at least a foot. You trained your eyes up into the trees and sure enough there were broken branches there too. 

At a trot you ran between the trees, following the path of broken twigs and scored earth. There was something else, something in the air by each tree, metallic, like iron. Blood, you could almost taste it it was so strong. But it wasn’t until the seventh tree that you saw it, marked high on the bark, as if this tall beast had propped themself against it, a red smear. And underneath there were a few bones, feathers and leftover vegetables.

If this was a beast, it was a beast that didn’t like carrot tops.

It grew tired again. Sooner than last time. It looked into the sky, its eyesight blurring, as it made its way back to the cave it had begun to call home. Inside its howls were louder, but at least the rain couldn’t find a way in, at least the air was warm and the ground soft. 

It lay down and closed its eyes. 

The sky turned darker, thick clouds billowing overhead, the muggy heat of an oncoming storm weighing you down. It was too far to return to your village, you’d never make it before the rain started and you knew what could happen if the lightning struck the trees, so a camp in the forest was out of the question. 

At this rate you could make the other coast before the sunset and you knew there would be shelter there in the rocky outcrops before the dunes crept into the island. With a sigh you hefted your pack higher and began the uneasy walk through the rougher terrain. 

The rain began to fall just as you crested over the cliff top. A fisherman had advised you of the safest ways across this portion of the island but your feet still slipped on the shale as you made your way down the rocky face. You’d spotted the cave while the sun was still high. With a view down the banks of rock and sand it gave you a good look out, close enough to the woods for shelter but open enough to watch the weather change. On closer inspection there was a significant plateau in front of the cave, perhaps enough to start a small fire to heat the stone inside and cook something hot if you were lucky. 

Slowly you inched closer, sword drawn in case something wild was also sleeping inside. You hadn’t seen the blood trail for some time but you had a lingering sense of something that had you tightening your grip on the handle. It tugged at you, tempting you closer and making your heart beat wildly. 

Once inside the lip of the cave you dropped your pack and pulled out a box of tinder and some twigs you’d collected along the way, stacking up the kindling into a small fire. But without the light from the sun it was hard to even find a spark. With a sigh you abandoned your plans for heat and decided to set out your blanket and try to sleep instead, hopefully that strange feeling would pass while you dreamt and you could wake up refreshed and ready to search anew. 

The raindrops were heavier now, fat and cold and insistent, driving you deeper into the cave in search of a dry space where the wind couldn’t blow the weather inside.

As your eyes adjusted to the dusky darkness you began to pick out details of the cave, the jagged rocks on the other side, the low rock just right for resting your sword and bow on and, at the back, something large. The darkness seemed to move differently there, a different shade of black that sucked the light from the rest of the cave. Whatever it was, it was huge but still. 

Slowly you reached for your dagger, too frightened to lunge for your sword in case it made the darkness move too. But it stayed still. Carefully, you moved your feet over the rocky ground, your toes light and body ready to fight. 

The darkness didn’t move, but it did make a noise, a deep grumble and for a moment you wondered whether it was the darkness inside or the darkness outside that had startled you. 

Then it moved, slow and deliberate, the darkness expanded and flared outwards, turning towards you and despite everything your brother’s had taught you, despite your own mind begging you to stay silent - you screamed. 

It hurt, it hurt everywhere and all of the time. Its body ached, its stomach felt concave from lack of food and its head pounded from dehydration. The storm was close, the wind spoke to it through the rustle of the trees and the feel of the salt air, it spoke to it and told it to sleep, that the storm would pass but it should sleep. It shifted, stretching its aching body -

And then there was a scream. 

You lurched back, scrambling for your sword as you fell, grasping for anything that would protect you from the monster that continued to grow before your eyes. Up and up it stood filling the entire back of the cave, its body unfurling and its wings spreading into the rock above. The tip of one unholy claw scratched at the cave roof and you screamed again, turning to run from it, to take your chances in the rain rather than stay a moment with this beast. But it had other ideas, reaching for you with one huge arm it grabbed you and held you, the other came up to cover your mouth, its hand so large its thumb pressed against your nose. 

Not a monster. A male. With hands and arms, tanned and windburnt from days in the forest. 

“Please, stop screaming.” It growled again and you went silent but you didn’t still, wriggling and writhing in an attempt to free yourself. “Please,” it said again, and it was almost sad, pleading. So you stopped. 

He held you tight against his chest, his heart hammering, his muscles burning with the effort of his movement. Steadily he lowered you to the floor, careful to avoid the rocks that might trip or scratch you, and then let himself slide down the cave wall until he was once more huddled on the floor. 

“Please, don’t scream - my head.” He bent to lay his forehead against his knees, “the storm, lightning in the trees, don’t.”

He was so weak, so worried, so tired, he allowed his eyes to close, focusing on the sound of you moving. 

“Don’t.” He repeated and your footsteps moved again, closer, little rocks skudding under your boots, and then a small palm on the back of his neck. 

“You have a fever.” Your voice was gentle, now that the screaming had stopped, and your touch a relief, so cold, so soothing. “Rest.” 

Now that he wasn’t towering over you, there was something vulnerable and sad about the so-called monster. His voice stuttered as he begged you for quiet and, against your better judgement, you allowed the sound of rain rushing over the lip of the rock and into the sea to fill the space, echoing into the cavern like a heartbeat. 

Lightning flashed, lighting up half of his face in clammy, pale light. You took a step towards him, still wary, still conscious of the stories told to you by your brothers, and you touched his neck where his hair had fallen away in long strands about his face. His skin was clammy too and cold to the touch, but he shivered nevertheless. 

“You have a fever.” You said, matter of fact, “rest.” 

He nodded and all but fell sideways into the blanket roll tucked against one side of the cave. 

“You too.” He grunted, and for the first time you assessed your own damp clothes and the way you’d begun to shiver. Quickly you stripped out of your waxed cape and boots, placing them carefully in a dry spot. Your shirt and vest were dry, protected by the cape, but the long trousers you’d worn were soaked through. 

Peering at the male you made sure his breathing was steady and even before you removed your trousers and slipped between your folded blanket in just your shirt and cotton bloomers.

Sleep did not come easily for the male. He kept to his side of the cave but his fever made him grunt and shout in his sleep, his arms and hands lashing out along with his thrashing body. So you didn’t sleep, you observed him instead. Waiting for dawn to break the storm. 

Even in the moonlight he was still big, tall and broad, his muscles showing even through the dark leather and ripped linen of his clothes. And he was winged. The source of the fear and confusion for your neighbours, as well as yourself. Airborne he must have looked as majestic as he was terrifying. An Illyrian warrior, so far from home, circling the village. No wonder those who had glimpsed him had been afraid. 

Now those enormous wings were tucked around him, glowing a deep red every time the lightning crashed across the sky, tiny veins picked out around the edges as well as a large gash in his left wing. It lay almost limp on the ground while the right was tucked in tight to his side. It looked painful and blood oozed slowly from the delicate membrane but only slowly. The cut to his side looked much worse. 

The sun was almost back now, a wan light filtering into the cave and allowing you to survey the Illyrian more closely, especially the cuts and bruises that littered his body. 

At some point, he had removed part of his leather armour, discarding it to one side where the dark blue siphon blinked with light whenever he groaned. Without the protection of the armour and siphon, his side was entirely revealed through the matching cut in his shirt. It was deep and already looked swollen at the edges - infected, you were sure, probably the cause of the clammy fever. 

Despite yourself you allowed your tired eyes to rove over his body, the gaps in his shirt revealing the details of his toned chest, the swirling black ink running from his left arm, up over his shoulders and then down between his pecs and towards the v of his abdomen where the ink disappeared among a smattering of hair. 

Heat flooded your cheeks. He was an injured male, an Illyrian warrior, a revered race bound to protect your people. You were certainly not supposed to be drooling after him while he slept. 

You swallowed heavily and tried to concentrate on his needs, rather than your own. 

Daring to look again you followed the tattoos back up towards his face, long dark hair still tangled at his shoulders, a stubbled beard covered his chin, his lips tilting into a smile because - oh -  his eyes were open, bright summer sky blue, and tracking your every move. 

“Hello,” he croaked and watched as you shuffled back against the wall. 

He closed his eyes again, as if even having them open was painful. 

“Hello,” you whispered, keeping a keen eye trained on him. 

“I’m Bucky,” he said, his head still pounded. “Can you pass me the canteen from my pack?” Without looking he gestured behind him. 

“Yes.” 

He listened to the sound of you moving and then the cool metal of the canteen touched his fingers. You introduced yourself but as soon as he started to move you hurried back to your side of the cave.

Slowly, so as not to frighten you, he sat up and took a long swig before offering it to you. 

You looked tired, wrecked, but not injured. You were back under your own blanket and he noticed the too-big trousers you’d been wearing were now carefully arranged on a rock to dry. Bucky hummed to himself, that was why you’d scurried back when he’d opened his eyes. 

Your eyes flicked to the trousers too, and then back to him. “They were wet, I didn’t want to catch a chill.”

“Sensible,” he agreed, putting a hand to his side. 

“You’re hurt, and sick, you were feverish.” 

“I was, I probably still am.” He agreed looking you over with the same interest that he’d found in your eyes. 

You were a very pleasant sight after so many nights alone, a wildness to your bonny face and full body. Even hidden under the folds of your shirt he could tell that you would be soft and warm to hold. With a groan he closed his eyes again. To be held and cared for by a female, to smell the spring breeze in your hair, to taste the salt of the sea on your skin. Maybe he was halfway to the afterlife and an angel had been sent to rescue him. 

“Thank the cauldron and the mother.” He sighed happily, swaying sideways and passing out. 

The Illyrian had watched you with eyes that toed the line between hungry and hopeful. His bold gaze made you feel warm again, heat sitting heavy in your stomach, and then he mumbled something and slid to the side. 

Thankfully his arm stopped him from bumping his head, but looking at his now glazed eyes he had definitely fainted. 

Without thinking you sprang into action, rolling him carefully so that if he was sick he wouldn’t choke or swallow his tongue. His skin was cold again, but sweaty, sticking the strands of his hair to his forehead in curls. 

He needed help, quickly, but you had nothing of any great use in your bag. There was the canteen of water and some food in his own pack and a flask with what smelt like whisky in the side pocket. You withdrew the mess tin from your own pack and tried to make a fire again, hoping to boil enough clean water to be able to clean and dress his wounds. But the damp air and howling wind blew wet dirt over your kindling. 

Instead you tugged a strip of linen from the end of your shirt, trying to find the cleanest corner first and ripping higher until the long tails no longer brushed over your thighs but sat as high has your belly button, revealing your midriff to the chill air. Goosebumps raised over your arms, but you didn’t hesitate, tipping some of the whisky onto the cloth and gently dabbing at the gash to his side. There were splinters still protruding from the edges, which you pulled out as quickly as you could. 

Ash, an arrow, perhaps, or a long lance fired into the sky, judging by the way the gash lined up with the tear in Bucky’s wing. Bruises bloomed under his tattoos like flowers, colouring in the gaps of the patterns. He’d fallen, then, after the hit. Probably outside of the village. 

“Why didn’t you ask for help.” You muttered under your breath, placing a square of whisky soaked cloth over the wound and pressing down. 

“Because I was already ashamed.” Came the pained whisper. 

“Why would you be ashamed?” With a tug on his arm you helped him sit, passing a long length of cloth around his back, bandaging the makeshift plaster into place. 

With your arms around him you had no choice but to lean in close, your face below his, his breath fanning over your cheek. He held one end in place, leaning drowsily into you while you tied a tight knot on his right, well away from the injury. His left hand, clearly weakened by his fall, sat lightly on your hip, keeping you steady. 

“I let my battalion down, my friends down,I couldn’t fight.” His eyes closed again but his hands didn’t move, their hold surprisingly delicate until he began to slump to the side again, dragging you with him. “I was injured and, I’m not really sure why, but I flew here. It felt like the right thing to do, like the Mother was guiding me, so I let her.”

With a huff you tried to wiggle away, but his hand tightened. 

“I’m so cold, please stay.” His breath tickled your neck where he’d pressed his face into your collar bone and you couldn’t deny him. The tugging sensation in your chest was back and the thought of staying with him made you want to release it in a long contented purr.

Curling beside him you let his hand settle on your now bare waist, his broad palm on your back a relief from the cold air gusting through the entrance of the cave. 

Bucky’s breathing slowed to an even beat, his body relaxing into his dreams and you fell with him, pulled tighter against his chest, the smell of the whisky washed over you and his wing curled in, cocooning you in his embrace. 

You woke to find yourself surprisingly well rested. The storm, having blown itself out battering the beach and forest, had made way for a bright morning. Bucky’s hand was still at your waist, but you’d moved in your sleep you were now facing away from him, his fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt and tickling your ribs. From his steady breaths you assumed he was still asleep and allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the closeness of his body, the way his wing curved over you both, filtering the light into a pink glow and blocking the boisterous breeze now coming in off the sea. 

There was something right about the way he held you, comforting and close. Despite knowing you should rise, you simply couldn’t, as if that invisible rope that had led you in now kept you beside him. In his sleep he dragged you closer, his hand splaying higher on your stomach, his thumb pressing the underside of your breast. In response, your nipples pebbled and you promised yourself it was just the cold air, just the breeze and the morning chill and nothing to do with the wonderful pressure of the male’s body behind you. Nothing to do with his rich scent of whisky and peat and possibility. 

He hummed in his sleep again, nuzzling the back of your neck and then, suddenly, he was awake. His hand was gone and your chest felt cold without his touch. The sound of his wing claws catching on the jagged roof had you whipping your head around and staring into his eyes. 

“I’d say I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but that was the best sleep I’ve had in a long while.” A flirtatious smile played at the corner of his lips and you returned it. 

“Pretty warm under the wings,” you agreed, looking at the expanse of tense skin and complex structure that curled over you both, now flared out along the walls of the cave, and then, as quickly as the butterflies had taken flight in your stomach, they fell like lead weights.“Your wing, it’s not healing.” 

You reached out and ran a finger close to the gash. Bucky sucked in air and bit his bottom lip, his top lip curling over his teeth and eyes crinkling in pain. 

“Please - don’t touch me there.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No - yes - it’s - just don’t touch me there.” Bucky grit his teeth and shuffled uncomfortably, placing a large hand over his lap and using the other to guide your hand away gently. 

“I could try and heal it - if you let me touch. Like I did with your side.” 

Bucky looked down at the bandage around his middle as if it was a surprise, perhaps he really didn’t remember. Leaving his wing, you reached out and touched his forehead instead. He felt a little cold, you both did, but not clammy. The fever had broken. 

“Can I check your bandage?” 

He nodded, sitting up and pulling his ragged shirt up with one hand. Slowly you untied the knot and removed the linen, it was clean on the top layers at least and the bottom ones showed the blood slowing. His healing had kicked in, once the ash had been removed, and the previously angry and infected gash was now a pink cut, knitting together slowly. 

“It looks a lot better.” 

You sat back on your heels, unable to look away from the cut in his wing. It too had started healing, but it would be a while before it was closed. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said, sincerely. “I’ve been out here a while and - I should have sought help sooner.” 

“I’m sure it’s not easy, last night you said you didn’t want to let your battalion down.” 

Bucky flushed, his nose and cheeks going rosy and you watched as the colour disappeared down his neck and under his collar. 

“I understand, it’s hard to be brave sometimes, you want people to trust you and know that you’re doing your best.” 

He hummed in agreement again, “and is that why you’re out here?” He raised an eyebrow, lounging back against the cave wall. The movement made his stomach tighten and you watched the muscles flex under his shirt, trying to recall a time when you’d seen any other male like this, when anyone at all had made you feel so hot all over. 

“I was sent to hunt a monster.” 

“A monster?” 

“It’s been stealing vegetables and eggs, a pail of milk as well. Scaring the farmers.” You looked out towards the brightening sky and then back towards him with a grin. “He’s not so scary though.” 

Bucky returned your smile, his eyes softening as he reached out to guide your gaze back to his own, “I’m glad I didn’t scare you too much.” 

“Only a little.” You laughed. 

Despite the gash in Bucky’s side healing over the next few days, he still remained in the cave during the few warm hours the afternoon afforded. His wings lay heavily behind him, the muscles weak and aching from his time spent dragging them around the woods and his injured wing searing with pain when he tried to extend it. 

With some help he made it to the cave entrance and watched as you picked your way around the storm swept beach in the distance. You’d been kind and gentle, despite your initial fear, despite the clumsy way he’d tried to get closer to you. And his heart swelled, hoping he could hold you in his arms again when the sun got low. 

Each night he'd asked you to stay next to him, and each night you'd agreed. But he was no fool, you pitied him and that would only last for so long until you refused. So he treasured every moment like a precious gift. 

It’d been a long time since a female had looked his way, weeks spent dragging himself around the woodland, months spent fighting Hybern on their borders, years spent training in isolation at Windhaven. All to miss this, the feel of the salt wind in his hair and the sun on his healing wings, to miss the feel of a gentle, feminine touch and the way his body responded, singing with happiness at the warmth of your body and scent of your hair. He ached to have you near again, just to know you were safe and cared for. Something in his chest pulled, as if his heart had truly skipped a beat and he closed his eyes against the delicious pain only to open them and see you again, your eyes locked on his, the driftwood you’d collected scattered around your feet, shock on your features. 

In a heartbeat you were climbing back towards him, running over the sand and up the dunes, scaling the rocky cliff face with strong, knowing leaps, and then you were in his arms, knocking him backwards with the strength of your embrace. 

“Bucky?” His name was half question and half exaltation on your lips and that feeling tugged at him again until his arms closed around your back, a hand on the nape of your neck drawing you closer. 

“Kiss me-” it was neither question nor demand, simply a statement of what you both so clearly needed. 

His lips were chapped when they brushed against yours, but warm nevertheless, he tasted of the sweet berries you’d found this morning on the edge of the woods and this close, your nose brushing against his, he smelt divine, perfect, the whisky on the bandages and the deep, musky, scent that was all his own. 

His uninjured wing curled around your back, folding you in a bubble of warmth where there was only you and Bucky and whatever this new thing was between you. You felt that tug again, the same deep feeling that you’d felt so often, and you pulled back enough to rest your forehead against his own. Bucky didn’t let you remove yourself too far, nudging your nose with his and pressing featherlight kisses to your cheek and jaw. 

“Bucky -” you sighed again and this time he answered, as sure and confident as the strong arms that tugged you against his body. 

“Yes, my mate?” 

[dinozenkaiju]

Ever since I saw that video of Austin training for Dune I have been having thoughts 😅

Looking how quick and agile he is and his lean physic I couldn't stop thinking about omega Gale who is trained to fight.

Gale was living with his dad after his mom died and with his dad's gambling and debts he was forced to join the Omega guard school.

They accepted tall, strong omegas to train them to become guards for rich omegas.

The school also paid money to the omegas so that they are not hungry and become strong.

Gale would use the money to pay his dad's debts and rarely had any left for himself so he would go hunting in his free time from training.

He was always working hard, it didn't matter if he got hit, he learned to fight quickly. His body was lean, soft but with years of hard training and even harder hits his skin become used to the bruises and wounds.

To be able to guard, his training didn't include only physical exercise but proper education, mental exercise and he had to learn how to fight alphas and withstand the alpha voice.

Many omegas failed this exercise, it was a torture and too painful to go through.

Gale was young but with the life that he had he wasn't afraid, being tortured by the alpha voice was just a bad memory to him.

Being tied down while alphas used the voice to command him to obey, made every omega cry and hurt trying to break the ropes to obey that God forsaken voice. It took Gale 10 months of that torture to be able to resist it.

Many omegas would talk how sad they were now that they knew how to resist the voice bc no alpha would take them now.

Gale didn't have time to think about stuff like that bc deep inside he already saw himself as unlovable.

After his graduation he was chosen as a guard by a beautiful omega called Marge. She was from a rich family and needed a personal guard bc she was going to marry into the royal family.

Gale liked Marge, she was kind to him,helped him even and before he knew it they became friends.

After Marge's royal wedding she and Gale had to move into the Palace and there Gale meets one captain of the royal guards John Egan.....

/I'll have to continue this thing bc just thinking of Gale sparing with Bucky as their daily training at the Royal Palace makes me wild.

[alienoresimagines]

Half Of Your Heart Beats In My Chest | Clegan Vampire AU | Part 1

Hiya! I'm really happy to share with you this first part of HCs for the vampire AU I have been brainstorming with @johnslittlespoon ❤️I have a one shot set in this universe almost ready to go so I wanted to give you some context in case you wanted to read it 🥰 I don't trust myself with a multi-chaptered fic but I will definitely write the important moments of these HCs and those of the following parts but if there are moments you'd like to see (or prompts, I'm always down for them) or have questions about this AU, my askbox is always open ❤️ There will be other parts of HCs because I do have to give the Buckies their eternity together and so Gale has to become a vampire at some point but it was getting too long 😅😂 I hope you'll enjoy and let me know your thoughts about this! ❤️ There are a few canon divergences; Gale and Marge do not exist in the 1940s and so Curt sort of takes Gale's place in Mota, except for the "Buck" thing, and doesn't die @amiserableseriesofevents I hope this take on vampires will be to your taste 💕 Part 2 here

Bucky hates being a vampire, he's been one since 1946 and the only reason he hasn't stepped in the sun the moment he could is because he doesn't want to leave Curt to face eternity alone

They both move to New York and help build a vampire community that assists in making them seem less scary and threatening to human

Overtime they build their own society underground, have their own nightclubs, bars, cafes, even sports leagues! At some point, John takes up a job as a sports journalist and focuses mainly on the baseball Vampires Yankees team

But just because he makes some friends and adapts to his new powers and immortality doesn't mean he likes being vampire

He spends most of his time reading all the books he can, trying to pick up new hobbies but growing bored of them quickly, and going to the Wild Cargo, a vampire (and human-friendly) club that Curt owns

John has a lot of one-night stands and lives vicariously through feeling how alive and warm different people's bodies are beneath him but never has any meaningful relationships in which he feels connected to the other

Vampires can have a mate, and they only have one for eternity but John has long since accepted he’d spent eternity alone, his self-loathing not allowing him to even try dating

In comes beautiful, shy, sweet, brilliantly alive Gale Cleven, and John’s entire world shifts

To limit vampires from feeding in crowds and spreading fear and insecurity but also to make sure they drink healthy blood (ie. not containing drugs or nutrients since their body will reject it) and overall make it safer for everyone, states and hospitals organize blood bag donations. It also helps since some of the vampires who despise that they need to feed from people and do not like hunting, like John. Feeding from someone will always feel better than sipping from a blood bag because there is an additional thrill and it’s almost instinct for them, but some are still more than reluctant to do it, clinging on to their humanity as much as they can

Gale and John meet for the first time when John goes to pick up his weekly blood bag at the hospital, and John is really starting to consider hurting himself to spend more time with the one he’s half convinced he’s an angel. Being a college student, Gale can’t be the one taking the blood samples just yet so he’s the one at the counter

Asks John his name to give him his command and is really confused because “I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t any reservation under ‘Bucky’” 

John gives him his actual name with a grin but still insists on Gale calling him Bucky

Gives Gale the name ‘Buck’ before he can really think about it and he tries to weave a story around it but Gale doesn’t seem too convinced. Yet he lets him call him Buck and even stops rolling his eyes at the 8th occurrence

Bucky makes sure to go pick up his blood bag at the same time every week- a newborn vampire will have urges to feed pretty often but older can span their feeding by multiple weeks. John for example is perfectly fine with one blood bag every week and a half or so- and eventually chats up a friendship with Gale

He learns that Gale’s from Wyoming and moved to New York to study Medicine & Vampirism, a course his home university did not offer, and that Gale is genuine in his desire to learn and help people like Bucky, which Bucky finds really sweet and does not help stalling his crush on Gale

He gives Gale plenty of hands-on knowledge about vampires, stuff that Gale wouldn’t find in textbooks 

They meet for the first time outside of the hospital when John offers Gale to help him with one of his essays on vampires since Gale is adamant he doesn’t want to go into clichés

He chooses a little café, run by vampires that make both vampire and human-friendly drinks, not wanting Gale to feel pressured or intimidated

Soon it becomes a bit of a tradition, a weekly meet-up outside of the hospital where Gale tells John all about what he’s learned about vampires, and John learns a bit more about his species, also giving Gale more human and individualistic takes on vampirism

They’re both incredibly smitten with the other, John’s flirty personality coming back in full force and utterly genuine

He feels so relieved that Gale knows he’s a vampire but isn’t disgusted or afraid of him, even if he keeps all the “ugly” part of him firmly under locks

He eventually learns and guesses that Gale’s father was an alcoholic who used to hit him until Gale fought back, and used to curse out vampires and queers. Little Gale spent a lot of time trying to unlearn all that hate but he managed and ended up embracing being queer (though he has never confronted his father about it, still afraid of the man). He doesn’t know if he should, but he relates to vampires being outcasted for something they can’t control so he’s determined to learn more about them. He’s always liked helping people, so he chose a medical degree. Upon learning all of that, John falls a bit more in love and is determined to treat Gale like he deserves

He courts Gale like he would a dame in the 40s because that’s how he was raised and he just wants to pamper Gale lmao

Meanwhile, Gale is having whiplash being quite literally swept off his feet when all the other men who ever were interested in him were because of looks and just wanted a quick tumble in bed

John offers to take him dancing, lends him books he thinks Gale’d like, and introduces him to some vampire friends he’s made

Curt takes one look at John and Knows something happened because in all the decades they’ve known each other, he’s never seen John so happy and alive. He still feels guilt over not being more stern in his refusal to turn John, and he is the captain of the Clegan ship, with Marge of course

Gale always goes to Marge when he needs advice and a little push in the right direction and this is definitely one of them. He and Marge had tried dating in high school but they didn’t feel it was right so they remained best friends and moved to study in New York together. Marge definitely gives John a shovel talk but she trusts he can take care of Gale

A LOT of pining between the Buckies, both of them going back and forth between “Is this a good idea? Does he feel the same way?” and “I’m so in love with him, I’m doing something about it tonight” then chickening out because they both have issues and fears, lots of which to do with John being a vampire

Gale doesn’t want to be just a one-time thing but what else could he be when John is immortal? Also if they start dating and something happens to him, what would happen to John, who’s already lost so many friends to mortality? Can he trust a supernatural being when he’s already been let down so many times?

John is terrified of losing control and hurting Gale. He’s absolutely repulsed by the idea of feeding from Gale when all he wants is to protect him. The only thought that causes him more pain is turning Gale into a vampire and cutting that brilliant life short. But if he doesn’t, Gale will eventually die, and the last piece of John too

Truth be told, one of them probably kisses the other during one of their little exchanging knowledge dates that have progressively moved to Bucky’s apartment (which has quickly become Gale’s study tbh) and after that, they both get overwhelmed with their respective issues

But in the end, they both agree that they love each other too much to give up on the other so they decide to try and figure it out as they go, both enjoying every moment with the other as though it’s their last

The balance of Gale trusting John after being mistreated and having trust issues, vs John feeling unworthy of being with someone like Gale

Part 2 will focus on them dating (and yes smut I promise) while Gale is still human, and all the softness and issues that comes from a human/vampire (who can fly and shapeshift as a dog muehehe) couple 🥰

My askbox is always open, and I'd love to chat a bit more about this AU with you ❤️

My Clegan Fics

[jobean12-blog]

Fallen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Werewolf AU)

Word Count: 689

Summary: Nothing will keep you from the love of your life, not your father's blade and certaintly not a seemingly irreversible curse.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing this AU and although it's short I really enjoyed it and hope to revisit! This is for @pupandkisasaesthetics aesthetic challenge! Thank you bunches to @sgt-seabass and @rookthorne for hosting such a cool challange! 💕💕The prompt I was given is shown below. I know it gives a Viking vibe but I figured it would work as them hunting the werewolf- that's where my brain went! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰 I made a moodboard but it STINKS bc I just can't do it, I'm no good at it, but I included it at the bottom just because I wanted you to see some stuff I had in mind LOL 😆

Warnings: some angst during a chase, small mention of i-n-ju-r-y and b-lo-o-d, softness too!

Your fingers dig deep into thick fur as the powerful muscles beneath propel you forward at a pace that has the wind whipping around you and chilling you to the bone.

The forest is dark except for the ethereal glow of the moon as you race through the shadows, clinging to him and silently urging him on through every labored breath.

The flight is born out of necessity, the distant sound of clashing weapons and battle cries echoing through the trees, a constant reminder that danger is still close.

As the terrain changes and becomes more uneven you tighten your grip but your fingers slip through fur matted with blood. Darkness closes in around you, the trees growing denser and forming an almost protective barrier as you weave about the trunks.

You can feel his heart pound in rhythm with yours, his muscles strained and taut with tension. You whisper to him, a soft murmur against the backdrop of the night and with renewed strength he surges forward, carrying you closer to safety.

Just when it seems he can go no further, a clearing emerges ahead, your sanctuary. He surges forward with one last determined stride and collapses on the stone pathway.

The small cottage seems to have sprung from the very fabric of the woods, the weathered stones surrounded by overgrown moss and vegetation, blending in seamlessly within the trees.

You slide from his body, hot tears streaming down your face as you run your hands over his large body. The wound on his hind leg is deep, the dark red blood still seeping out.

“James,” you cry. “Please.”

Bright blue eyes meet yours and he whimpers before nuzzling his nose under your hand.

“Please,” you beg.

He heaves himself from the ground and limps toward the doorway. You rush forward and open it, helping him inside before he collapses again, unmoving other than the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

It’s late into the night when you finally get the bleeding to stop, his wound cleaned and covered. Your hands are stained red but your tears have dried as exhaustion takes over and you lay your head against his fur.

Sleep comes quickly but it’s fitful, plagued by the nightmares of what’s hunting you. When you awake you’re curled up between four legs, your body cocooned and warm in his soft fur.

You stretch your aching muscles and sit up to check on his leg.

“You haven’t changed back,” you say quietly.

“You were shivering in the night,” he answers as his tail settles on your lap, keeping you warm still.

You burrow closer to him and scratch behind his ears.

“Thank you.”

It’s just a whisper, barely audible to human ears.

His body starts to shift, the long back fur receding and bones realigning. Muscles ripple under skin, adjusting to their new form and sharp claws retract, leaving behind long human fingers.

With a trembling hand James reaches out, his blue eyes still holding something wild and feral, but when his skin brushes yours, tender and vulnerable, you fall into his embrace and feel him sag under your acceptance.

“We cannot stay here,” he murmurs. “Your father will never stop hunting me.”

You lift your hand, cradling his cheek, the skin underneath still lined with a shadow of hair, and brush your finger over his lips.

“Then I will never stop running,” you tell him as you lean closer.

His dark hair falls in front of his face and your fingers trace his jaw before you tuck it back behind his ear. He runs his nose along your skin with a deep inhale, down your throat and back up again until he finds your lips, a satisfied growl rumbling through his chest.

“You would leave it all behind?”

His question is gentle, a gasp against your lips as he wraps his large hand around your waist and pulls you closer.

“There is nothing for me there…not without you.”

Your name falls from his parted lips, leaving nothing but the breath between you and when his lips press to yours he consumes you, body and soul.

@book-dragon-13 @goldylions @sebstanwhore @hiddles-rose @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @kmc1989 @lookiamtrying @randomfandompenguin @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

[krirebr]

I've been thinking about Sunshine and vampire Steve (I'm always thinking about him, nothing new or surprising here).

She's his favorite snack at the moment and will continue to be. But she's human, so she ages. Will Steve keep her as human and drink from her even when she's like 80? Or will he kill her after she reaches a certain age?

Sure, my dark twisted romantic heart wishes he turned her and own her forever, but I'm not sure Steve would be interested in that. Then again, he'd be losing her sweet blood, if she dies anyway.

Which brings me to question: if he did turn her, would her blood still have some sunshine sweetness and he'd be able to enjoy her for eternity? I suspect vampiric blood isn't a sustenance, human blood is, but could it be like a sweet treat in addition to him draining humans as usual? You know, a typical hunt and bloodsucking and then taking from his forever-bound-to-him pet.

And then a wild thought appeared, that maybe if Steve doesn't exactly plan on ever turning her, perhaps someone else does? 👀

Ohhhhh Eva. There's so much here!

Steve is kind of unknowable, I think he could kind of go either way on whether or not he lets her age. But I think Sunshine just always has this baseline fear that he's going to grow bored of her one day. Like how if you eat your favorite food for every meal, you'll get so tired of it you won't like it any more.

But what would happen if he did turn her??? Ok, so I think her blood would still have some of that sunshine BUT! I think drinking from another vampire is seen as an extremely intimate act. Ransom and Little Rabbit do it all the time. Cole dreams of doing it. But Steve?? I think the only person he would ever do something like that with is Bucky. He definitely never did it with Ransom and I don't think he'd do it with Sunshine, if he ever did turn her.

Orrrrrr... I'm actually changing my mind as I'm typing this. Because, maybe, yes, it's seen as a very intimate thing that a vampire couple can experience, an even exchange that brings them closer. But what if, for Steve, he uses it as another kind of domination. Like, he'd drink from Sunshine, but never lets her drink from him, keeping everything incredibly one-sided. Bucky is definitely the only vampire Steve has ever let anywhere near his neck.

And ok, your last thought... that is very interesting! You know Cole has definitely thought about it extensively. But has anyone else?? A vamp as powerful as Steve, he must have made some enemies. If any of them found out about his favorite pet, I wonder if that's something they'd do to use her against him... 😈

Thank you for the questions Eva and for your patience for me getting through this awful week before I could answer it. 💜 Sorry if it got kind of messy!

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 23

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced reader

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: this is fluffy!! There is some angst with Henry remembering his time at hydra, Henry being a brave sweetie pie and facing his fears, Charlotte is a whole warning on her own,

A/N: here we are again with our favorite family! This chapter is kind of all over the place but in a good way. There is a guys and girls weekend. It ends with it being Steebie’s birthday and guess who is the most excited to celebrate her favorite person? That’s right our sweet Angel.

Series Masterlist

“Are you going to do anything fun this weekend?”

“Mhm. Habe a seepover wit Olibia. An mama say we habe tea pawty.” Lottie informs her father.

He was sitting on the floor of the living room with his back against the couch. His head tilted back so that it was resting on Lottie’s lap and she could play with his hair. It was their new night time routine. Bucky looks up to find Lottie smiling down at him while her little fingers tangled themselves along his dark silky strands.

“Dada habe fun?”

“Lots of fun, doll. I’m gonna go fishing and then some more fishing and then some more fishing and then-”

“Dada.” Lottie giggled.

“What?” Bucky replied with a chuckle of his own.

“Dada funny.”

“He’s hilarious.” You call from the hallway as you put your phone away after having taken a picture of the two of them. “But it’s time for bed missy.”

“But mama am making dada pwetty.”

“I see that. You’re doing a great job, he looks very pretty. But if you go to sleep now you’ll be able to see Olivia tomorrow.”

Lottie gasped at this new bit of information before scrambling off the couch, almost kicking Bucky in the face while she did so. She’s already in her pajamas so all she has to do is pick out which book she wants for a bedtime story.

“I was getting the best head massage and you just had to ruin it.”

“Oh I’m sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you.”

“And how will you do that?” Bucky’s expression darkened and he gave you his most devilish, knee weakening grin.

You don’t answer, instead you take a step back and then another as you watch Bucky stand and start stalking toward you. With a giggle you start moving down the hallway but Bucky is right behind you. His intentions were clear but the sweet melodic voice of your sweet Angel stopped anything from happening. For the moment at least.

“Dada, this one.” She held up a book for him to read. Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, his demeanor completely changed.

“I’ll be waiting.” You call out after checking in on an already sleeping Henry.

Bucky groaned as he watched you saunter away. The sway of your hips and the flirty wink you send over your shoulder drives him wild. He walked into Lottie’s room where she was already sitting in bed patiently waiting to be tucked in with the book in her hands. Bucky’s eyes soften as he takes in his little girl smiling happily at him. Surrounded by comfort and love and happiness. He couldn’t help but feel selfish as he thought about wanting more of this life with you. He wanted his exhaustion to come from chasing little versions of you and him around and not from hunting down and getting rid of hydra.

“Dada?” Lottie calls him as she holds the book out for him to take.

“Alright, let’s see what you picked for tonight.” Bucky tucks Lottie in and sits at the edge of the bed and opens the book to the first page.

“You remember what I said right?”

“Yeah mama.” Lottie answered from her place on the counter. Her feet kicking in the air as she watches you fill a thermos with coffee. “Dada an bubba go fish wit gwandpa.”

“That right and they’re going to be gone all weekend so we get to have a girls weekend. Olivia and all of your aunties will be here soon.”

“Habe fun wit Olibia.”

“Yeah and uncle Clint’s daughter is going to be here too. Her name is Lila.”

“Habe seepover too?”

“We can ask her when she gets here.” You say as you clean up. The front door opens and you see a little head topped with light brown curls speeding in.

“Lottie!”

“Olibia!”

Both girls squeal in delight as they reunite. You quickly grab Lottie from her place on the counter before she jumps and set her down. They don’t waste another second as they embrace. Immediately they begin to talk about what they should do first before Charlotte takes Olivia’s hand and they run together into Charlotte’s room. As soon as they disappeared Molly, Sofia and your brothers walk in followed by Bucky and Henry.

“I think we’ve lost them already.” Molly says as she hugs you. “How have you been?”

“Good and you?”

“I’m ready for this weekend to get started.”

“There she is.” Luke said as he walked in and engulfed you in a hug of his own. Soon enough you were greeting and hugging the rest of the family.

“Where’s dad?”

“Tony stopped him, something about taking a jet?”

“Of course he’d rather take the jet.” You chuckle. “Coffee anyone?”

You get a chorus of yeses so you serve everyone a cup as you catch up.

****

Apparently it only took twenty minutes to convince Eddie to take the jet instead of separate cars. So now everyone was just outside the hanger as the guys packed their things in. They’d never admit it but you could see how giddy Eddie, Luke and Joshua were.

“Don’t worry kitten, I’ll keep an eye on them.” Your dad said as he stepped up to say goodbye.

“Good luck with that. They’re trouble when they get together.”

“You forget I was in the military. Wrangling in troublemakers was my job.”

You smile as you hug him. “We’ll talk when you come back?”

“Of course. But you have fun too.”

“Sure will.”

Eddie moves to say goodbye to everyone else. It’s like the rest of the team has adopted him as their dad. It’s sweet and you know that your dad loves it and the team appreciates him. You watch Steve scoop up both Lottie and Olivia to say his own goodbye but not before they talk his ear off with everything they’ve planned. It felt like a glimpse into the future and you could totally see Steve being a girl dad. He gives you a quick hug and heads for the jet.

“Alright sugar, are you sure you’ll be ok?” Bucky asks as he hugs you for what felt like the 100th time.

“Yes baby, I’ll be fine. Go have fun and relax. You’ll love the cabin and so will Henry.” You say with a smile before your eyes start roaming. “Where is Henry?”

“He’s with A.J., Cass and Cooper.”

As if on queue Henry runs to you and throws his arms around your waist.

“You ok sweet boy?”

“Why can’t you come with us?” He says as he looks up.

“Because I’m staying here to hang out with the girls and you get to go fishing like grandpa said. I promise we’ll make a trip just the four of us ok? But this will be fun and when you come back you can tell me everything you did.”

“Ok.” He hugs you tighter though, as if he doesn’t want to let go.

“Think of it this way, it’s your first official mission. You have to have fun and report back to me. Now if you don't like it your dad can call me and we can talk on the phone for a while and if you really really really don't like it, I can pick you up and bring you home. But you have to try to enjoy yourself first. Promise?”

He smiles at that. “I will, promise.” Henry let’s go and you see him run toward Lottie and Olivia. He hugs Olivia first and then Lottie. This is what had worried both you and Bucky; they seem to be taking the thought of separation well though. You can’t make out what they’re saying to each other other than Lottie assuring him he’ll have a good time as she touches her head. Meaning she had a vision about it. He reminds Lottie to take care of Alpine while he’s out.

“Alright we should get going if we want to avoid any traffic.” Bucky jokes.

“Dork.”

“Ah yes, but I’m your dork.” He says before kissing you. “Have fun, sugar. But not too much fun without me.”

“Same goes for you.”

All the guys board the jet, leaving the women back at the compound. Once the jet has disappeared everyone starts to head back inside.

“Do you guys want to learn how to shoot a gun?” Nat asks Sofia and Molly.

“Shooting lessons from the widow herself? Sign me up.” Sofia says.

Molly looks over at Olivia as she thinks it over.

“Go. I’ll watch them. They already have a plan to watch Disney movies and dress up as their favorite princesses.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Absolutely not. I’d like some time to get to know my niece better. Besides, Laura will be with me.” You motion to Laura, Clint’s wife. “I think the girls invited her daughter Lila.”

“Ok, thank you so much but I will watch the girls later so that you can do whatever you want to.”

“Have fun.”

You watch as Nat leads them to the gun range. Wanda and Sarah mention something about the pool and May tags along. It made you happy that Tony took Peter with him. He obviously admired the team although he hadn’t joined officially. He was young, he had time.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” Laura asked as she walked up beside you.

“I sure as hell am. Come on girls.”

The girls had taken over the living room. Although Lila was almost four years older than Olivia and Lottie she still played along and sang her heart out to the movie that was playing. While they were busy with that, you and Laura were sitting at the dining room table. Each of you with a cup of coffee as you chatted away.

“Do you miss it?”

“Working for shield?” She asks and you nod.

“Honestly. I do sometimes but then I hear the kids playing and laughing and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. Why, are you thinking of retiring?”

“Maybe. I mean just the going on missions part. I do work in the medbay and I could probably train some of the recruits on medicine in the field. I just feel like my focus has shifted, you know?”

“Well I’ll tell you one thing. I might miss it from time to time but I don’t regret it. If I had to go back and do it over again, I would.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I don’t think it will be any time soon but it’s good to know.”

The two of you talked a bit more over coffee. It was good to be able to express your concerns with someone that had been in a similar situation.

“It’s really quiet.” Laura said suddenly.

“Oh no, let me check that they haven’t disappeared into the compound. Lottie has a knack for running around.”

“Or worse they’re making a mess somewhere.”

You sigh when you walk into the living room. “Or worse they’re torturing the cat.” You call over your shoulder.

Laura walks up behind you. In the living room the three girls were trying to put bows on a very grumpy looking Alpine.

“Charlotte, Al doesn’t like bows in her fur.”

“But make pwetty mama.”

“But she’s sad, sweet Angel. Why don’t you give each other makeovers instead?”

“Kay.” She says before running into her room to get her makeup kit.

Both you and Laura fell victim into what ended up being a whole salon. Lila was on nail duty, Olivia had hair and Lottie of course had makeup.

Fortunately the rest of the weekend would be a lot more relaxed. Tony had set up times for massages and facials and anything else you could have wanted. You made sure to take plenty of pictures of the girls together. Especially taking pictures of Charlotte in her little pink bathrobe sitting back and relaxing with a face mask on. Her eyes were closed but her little foot tapped along to the music that was being played. You promptly sent them to Bucky.

Everyone enjoyed the small break in their routine. There was a karaoke and game night. You had a movie night in the pool room, where everyone lounged in a floatie and watched a mix of shows and movies. It was a nice easy weekend and you enjoyed every minute with your sweet Angel.

“This place is great.” Steve said as he walked out of the jet. The cabin is a lot bigger than expected, which makes sense or else Eddie wouldn’t have invited everyone.

“It’s been in the family for generations. We’ve even added rooms to it to fit everyone over the years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we used to come up here for vacations every summer. Aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents.” Luke says. He walks past Steve and right to the front door.

Eddie and Joshua head inside with Eddie ushering everyone in.

“Alright, I think we should start with everyone picking rooms. Mine is up stairs at the end of the hall. Josh and Luke will share a room and I think the boys can share the kids room since it has bunk beds. Everyone else go figure it out.” Eddie says as he stands at the bottom of the stairs.

All the guys do as they’re told. Bucky, Clint and Sam usher the boys into the room Luke pointed out and helped them settle which bed they’d be using. Henry, though felt a little unsure about the arrangement and held on to Bucky’s hand.

“What’s wrong bub?” Bucky took a knee to be at eye level with his son.

“I don’t like it.”

“Why don’t you like it? Is it because it’s a new place or because of the beds?”

“The beds.” Henry looks back in the room and shivers as memories come back. “The bad men used to have beds like that and they kept us in there all the time.”

Bucky remembered the pictures he saw of Henry and other prisoners of hydra of all ages being kept in rooms with bunk beds. Too many people in such a small space.

“Ok, so how about we find a room with a big bed and you can sleep with me instead?”

“Will they get mad if I don’t sleep here?”

“No, you can still play here and we’ll spend most of our time at the lake anyways. They’ll be too tired to notice.”

“Ok.” Henry nods.

“Hey, why don’t you take Y/N’s room?” Luke said from the door of his own room. “It’s that one.” He points over his shoulder to a door with a sign that says do not enter on it.

“Thanks.”

Bucky and Henry walk down the hall and open the door. It was like walking back into the past, your past specifically. It was obvious you hadn’t been here in a while. The room’s decor was meant for a teenage version of yourself. It was pink and frilly and there were too many posters of bands and actors on the walls. Was it normal for Bucky to feel jealous of a poster? Probably not but it wasn’t going to stop him. He took out his phone and told Henry to step inside so that he could take a picture and send it to you.

Bucky: Guess where we’ll be sleeping…

Sugar: oh my sweet boy!!!! I miss him so much already… also don’t let Steve see my room!

Bucky: Too late…

Bucky proceeds to send a video of Steve laughing as he looks around the room and pokes fun at your things. He holds up an old stuffed animal that has seen better days. Then he starts to goof off with some old accessories that were still on the dresser.

Sugar: I kicked his ass once, I can do it again.

Bucky: he stopped laughing. I might have to start threatening him with that myself. I’ll keep you updated. Love you. Give Lottie kisses for me, miss my doll!

Sugar: love you too, give Henry kisses for me!

Bucky puts his phone away and unpacks his and Henry’s things for the long weekend. He can’t help but smile the longer he spends in your room. He begins to think about spending some time away from the compound and missions and problems. Just you, him and the kids and Alpine of course. A family vacation. It spirals from there, Bucky starts dreaming about school plays and Christmas and all the memories he wants to make. All good memories to replace the bad ones.

“Daddy?” Henry calls from the door.

“Yeah bubs?”

“Can we go outside now?”

“Yeah. Let’s go see what everyone is up to.” Bucky walks out of your room and follows Henry downstairs.

Everyone is sitting around on the large sectional sofa. Henry joins the boys after A.J. calls him over to play with the Lego sets they found.

“So what’s first?” Tony being the one that always needs to be doing something asks.

“You’re good with machines right?”

“I’d hope so or else those suits I use are made by someone else.”

“I need your help.” Eddie gets up from his recliner. “We have these golf carts and 4-wheelers we normally use to get around the property but they’ve been giving me some trouble. Think you can take a look at ‘em?” He says as he leads Tony to a stand alone garage.

“I’ll have them up and running in no time.”

“Good. Knock yourself out, kid.” Eddie walks out and heads back towards the house. “One troublemaker down.” He mutters to himself.

****

“What do you mean you’ve never watched Star Wars?” Eddie looked at Henry in disbelief.

“I think mama has it on a list but we haven’t watched it yet.”

“That is unacceptable and I’ll be talking to your mom about it.” Eddie gets up from his recliner and moves towards the tv. “No grandson of mine is going to walk around without having watched the Star Wars movies.” He sets out to play the first movie.

Henry giggles as he takes a seat on the couch. The conversation had gotten the attention of the others, who were just outside on the porch.

“Oh boy, now we’re talking.” Luke says as he takes a seat. Slowly but surely everyone finds somewhere to sit.

“If you’re going to be part of this family,” Eddie turns around and looks at each and everyone of them. “Star Wars are a must watch on every trip to the cabin, no exceptions.”

So everyone settles into the couch and into this new tradition. A silent agreement forms amongst the team. Eddie is the group dad and must be protected at all costs.

Everyone is up early the next day. Anything and everything that might be needed while out on the lake is packed and the men are off for their first day out. The team is surprised to see Eddie has a boat, they thought they’d be fishing from a dock. Eddie laughed at that before setting off. It was the middle of summer though and the lake was busier than usual. It didn’t stop the team from having a good time though.

The fishing was ignored since there were too many people swimming and partying and scaring off the fish. With swim trunks ready almost everyone jumped into the water. Henry overlooked the water as everyone jumped in, even Cass, A.J. and Cooper. Bucky swam up to where Henry was standing and looked up at him.

“Hey bubs, everything ok?”

“I don’t want to jump in.” He says softly. The truth was that he was afraid of lakes.

That’s where hydra ‘taught’ him how to swim. They would grab him from his cell in the middle of a cold night, put him on a boat and throw him overboard and expect him to swim back to shore. He was four.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to jump in. We can hang out right there. I’ll be up in a second.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Eddie said from his seat. “C’mere Henry.” He patted the seat beside him and Henry sat down. “Are you scared of swimming or the lake?”

“The lake. The bad men, they used to throw me in it at night and I had to swim back or I’d get punished.”

Eddie inhales a sharp breath. He knew about Henry’s past, you had spoken to him about it on one of your late night calls. By now Bucky was sitting on the back of the boat, legs hanging over the side and toward the water.

“That is scary. I don’t think I could have ever done that.”

“Really?” Henry looks at him with wide eyes. “But mama says you’re really brave.”

“I try to be but even brave people have things that scare them. But you know how you become brave?”

Henry shook his head.

“I bet your dad knows.” Eddie and Henry look at Bucky.

“When you have the opportunity to face your fear you have to try. And just by trying you become braver and then one day you’re not scared of it anymore.”

Henry bit his bottom lip as he thought about what his dad had said.

“Do I have to do it alone?”

“Nope. That’s why having a family is so great, they can be there to hold your hand.” Eddie answers.

Henry looked out toward the water and back at his grandpa. “Will you jump with me?”

“Sure thing kid.”

“I want daddy to jump with me too.”

“What do you say Bucky?” Eddie looked over to bucky.

“I say let’s do it.”

Bucky wiped away the water that was getting into his eyes before looking over at Eddie and Henry.

“Alright, let’s do this bubs.” Bucky smiles and nods. “How about we have uncle Steve close by just in case you need help?”

“Ok.” Henry stands by the side of the boat. He looks over the edge and into the water, he frowns but takes a deep breath. Henry doesn’t have an issue with swimming, he just prefers to be able to see the bottom. That’s why he likes pools. “Just gotta be brave.” He whispers to himself.

Bucky had called Steve over and then everyone was looking over and cheering Henry on. Eddie stands on Henry’s right side and Bucky on his left. They both take Henry’s hands. The boat bobs up and down as the three of them shift around causing a ripple effect in the water.

“Are you ready bubs?”

Henry looks at the water again and then up at Bucky. With another deep breath he nods.

“Ok bubs, ready 1… 2…3… jump.” Bucky says and all three of them jump into the water.

Underwater, Henry panics for a moment and kicks wildly before he’s pulled above. Bucky is holding him close and wiping away water from his face. There’s cheering around him. As Henry blinks and looks around he sees Steve, Sam and the others.

“How did that feel?” Eddie asks as he bobs around the water.

“Scary. But I was brave. Are you proud daddy?”

“Oh I’m so proud of you. You’re the bravest kid I know bubs. You should be proud of yourself too.”

Henry smiles and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck. Bucky kisses Henry’s temple and mouths a ‘thank you’ to Eddie.

“Come on Henry, let’s race.” Steve says.

“Can I go?”

“Of course you can. Go kick his butt too.”

Henry giggles as he swims off in Steve’s direction. The rest of the day is spent either hanging out on the boat or swimming. Henry jumps into the water a few more times, each time is a little less scary but he still holds on to someone’s hand. First it’s Steve, then Sam, followed by Tony, who didn’t want to be in the water but one look from Eddie and he agreed. He wouldn’t say it but he was glad to be able to relax like this. Henry even jumped with Luke and Joshua and then with Cass, A.J. and Cooper. But his final jump was him alone.

By the time they got back to the cabin they were all exhausted. After showers and a quick dinner everyone was asleep in their beds. Henry even opted to sleep in one of the bunkbeds.

During the whole weekend he tested some limits. He still struggled with certain things but it was understandable. Before if he cried no one would comfort him but now he has a whole lot of people that would line up just for the chance to do so. Henry slept easier that night, there were no nightmares or waking up in cold sweats and tears, just exhaustion and pure joy.

The next few days they did manage to go fishing. Sam was in his element as he helped some of the others. There were late nights around the bond fire and even a lightsaber fight. That prompted Tony to start working on actual lightsabers even when everyone shut him down.

The guys were set to return today. It was going to be a great day because it just so happened to be the 4th of July. Upon learning that the 4th was also Steve’s birthday, Lottie lost her mind. She was so excited to celebrate her favorite person’s birthday and wear the outfit that you had bought for her. It was a dress in the same shade of blue as Steve’s original suit from the 40’s. The skirt was layered tulle with red trim. On her chest was the iconic white star and she even had a utility belt. It was full of candy. The look was complete with a plastic shield, fingerless gloves, two high pigtails adorned with red bows, white star shaped sunglasses and her little combat boots.

So while waiting for the jet to land you held Lottie’s hand. She was bouncing in place causing the ruffled skirt of her dress to bounce. Next to her was Olivia, who was dressed in something similar at Lottie’s request. When the jet finally touched ground and the ramp was lowered Lottie was practically vibrating. You expected some sweet reunion between your sweet Angel and her favorite person. What you didn’t expect was that she would attack him, playfully of course. More importantly it was caught on video

The minute she saw Steve she started running and threw the shield like a frisbee, hitting Steve square in the chest. He was absolutely taken aback since he wasn’t paying attention. He first saw the small shield on the floor by his feet and then he heard Charlotte’s laughter as she ran towards him. Steve’s face almost split in half with the huge grin he sported. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms. Still when Charlotte jumped she knocked him back on to his ass. Her laughter was infectious and soon Steve was laughing too.

“Happy buwtday Steebie.” Charlotte said as she hugged him tightly.

“Thank you sweetheart. You look beautiful in your pretty dress.”

“Tank you.” She said before she looked up and saw Bucky walking down the ramp. “DADA!” Leaving Steve completely forgotten Charlotte ran toward her father who also welcomed her with open arms. “Miss you dada.”

“I missed you too, doll. But what are you wearing?”

“Am Captain dada, wike Steebie.”

“Oh this is your uniform. Well you’re the prettiest Captain America I’ve ever seen.”

Charlotte blushes and hides her face in the crook of her neck as she says a little ‘tank you’.

“Mama.” Henry says as he runs past his dad and practically tackles you to the floor. “I missed you so much.”

“My sweet boy I missed you too.” You kissed the top of his head repeatedly while smoothing out his hair. “But did you have fun?”

“So much fun. I have to tell you everything.”

“I can’t wait to hear everything.” You smile before looking up at Bucky.

He looked completely relaxed. It was different from when he relaxed at home. Sometimes he still had a bit of tension in his shoulders but now he looked like a completely different man. You loved it.

“Hi Sugar.” He whispered against your lips before kissing you. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you more baby.”

“What about me? Did no one miss me?” Steve says as he walks up to you.

“Charlotte did. Me? Not so much.”

“You’re so mean. Why did we ever become friends?”

“Because you needed someone to teach you about technology.” You say as you hug him. “Happy Birthday Steve. Now come on we made your favorite for lunch. Just the family.” You loop an arm around his and take Henry’s hand as you lead them to the shared dining room.

****

Catching up over lunch had been great. Now you sat in one of the shared living rooms with everyone. Henry sat at your side as he told you about what he did.

“We watched the Star Wars movies. My favorite is Obi-Wan Kanobi. Oh and we got to play with lightsabers and uncle Tony said he was going to make us real ones.” Henry explained to you excitedly as he played with Alpine. You’d never seen him more animated and it made you smile.

“He did?” You asked. It looked over to Tony who wouldn’t meet your eye. “Well I hope he makes me one too.”

“Grandpa and Uncle Sam taught me how to fish. I caught a fish this big mama.” He held his hands a few inches apart. “Uncle Sam said we can go down to his house and do more fishing too. Can we go? Did you know he has his own boat too?”

“I didn’t know he had a boat. But we can plan a trip to go down.”

“Hey Henry,” Cass came up to him. “We were gonna go play outside. Want to come with us?”

Henry looked at you unsure of what to do. You grabbed Alpine from him. “Go have fun. Remember to not go farther than the playground.”

They left after saying a quick ok. You smiled and turned your attention to the couch next to yours where both Bucky and Steve were sitting and listening to Lottie.

“Make A-pine pwetty wit bows. An habe moobie night and go swim too. An uncle Tony gabe toys. Oh mama habe pictuwes. Dada an Steebie habe fun?” She was talking their ears off and they made sure to pay attention.

“Lots of fun but it sounds like you had more fun than us.”

“No habe mowe fun. Missed you.” She leans first into Steve for a hug and then into Bucky. “But is Steebie’s buwtday, can habe fun now.”

“You know what, doll? You are absolutely right. We can have even more fun now since it’s Steve’s birthday. Why don’t we go see if the party is getting started?”

Lottie cheered as she stood up on the couch and hugged Steve again.

“What party?” Steve asked while looking from Bucky to you and then at Tony when the realization hit him. “I thought we agreed on no party for my birthday.”

“I’m not celebrating you, I’m celebrating America. Also it’s Henry and Charlotte’s first time celebrating the 4th of July.” Tony defended, knowing Steve wouldn’t take any experiences away from the kids.

“Yeah Steve, the fourth isn’t just about you.” You added with a smirk. “Let my babies experience this holiday. Besides, Bucky and I have a special gift for you.”

Everyone else started heading outside while Bucky moved to stand with you.

“So Y/N and I have talked about this although it was really a no brainer.” Bucky started.

“And we would like for you to officially be Henry and Charlotte’s godfather.”

“Really?” He looked at you like an excited puppy.

“Of course, we know that you love those kids as if they were your own and they love you too. There’s no one we would trust more with our kids than you.” You say with a smile.

“Other than the whole team.”

“Bucky.” You elbow him but chuckle.

“I would love to.”

Steve stands and scoops Lottie up in his arms. He gives Bucky a hug and then he hugs you.

“It’s the best present ever.”

“Habe pwesent too.”

“You have a present for me, sweetheart?” Steve looks at Charlotte who nods before wiggling out of his hold in order to go get said gift.

“She worked very hard on it over the weekend.”

Steve smiled as the three of you started walking in the same direction Lottie left. You loop your arm around his and smile up at him.

****

Like always Tony went all out for the celebration. The night was buzzing with excitement as music played. People busied themselves with all kinds of entertainment until it was time for the Stark fireworks spectacle. But the most interesting conversation was about to happen at the edge of it all. On one of the benches was Eddie, just watching as his kids and grandkids ran around and spent time together. Bucky approached him and took the empty seat beside him.

“How are you doing Ed?”

“Good. A bit tired is all.”

Bucky nodded in understanding. For a few minutes they sat in silence, both of them appreciating the lack of conversation. But Bucky was a man on a mission and he needed to talk with Eddie.

“I need to talk to you about something, Ed.”

Your dad turned his head slightly to look at Bucky. Half of his face was lit up by the lanterns that decorated the area. Instead of finding a century old soldier, Eddie saw a nervous young man with hope in his eyes.

“Go on then. I’ve told you before I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I want to ask Y/N to marry me but I'd like your blessing.”

“Buck this isn’t the 1930’s, you don’t need my permission. We both know that she’s a grown woman and she’ll do what she wants.” Ed says as he looks back to find you in the crowd.

“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m asking for your blessing. You are the most important man in her life and I don’t want to ask her without talking to you first. I know this is important to her.”

“I’m not the most important, at least not anymore and neither are you.” Eddie looked back at Bucky. “He is.” He said as he nodded toward the crowd.

Bucky turned his head and watched as you ran around happily with Henry. Even in the distance he swore he could hear your laughter as you brought Henry in for a hug after pulling a prank on Steve. His chest swelled with both love and pride that he got to call you his.

“That right there.” Eddie pointed at Bucky’s face. He had a goofy grin as he was watching you and a lightness about him that wasn’t seen when he was away from you or his kids. “That’s why I’ll give you my blessing. You look like an idiot when you look at her and I’ve never doubted your love for my girl. Truth is you’ve made her happier than I’ve ever seen her. You’ve given me a version of my daughter that I’ve never seen before and I’d be an idiot to be against that. You’ve also given me two amazing grandkids. There’s no way in hell I’d miss out on watching them grow up.”

Bucky offered Eddie his hand and the latter shook it.

“You’re a good man Bucky and you deserve good things too. But as father of the future bride you have to know that I’m also an expert marksman. So try some shit with my girl and you’ll never see it coming.”

“If I ever did anything to hurt her or break her heart, I’ll make sure to stand perfectly still.”

Both men nod in agreement just as you walked up to them and took the empty seat between them. You leaned into Bucky but faced your dad.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk.” You told him.

“There’s not much to talk about, Kitten.”

“Dad.”

“I’m ok, the lawyer is handling everything and I haven’t spoken to her since the day at the party.” He waves your concerns away. “When I got home the next day her things were gone. She probably went to stay with her sister.”

“Is there anything you need? Anything I can help with?”

“Not at the moment but I promise I’ll let you know.”

You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. Eddie leans down and places a kiss on your forehead.

“You don’t have to worry about me kid. I’ll be just fine.”

“Well I’m still going to worry. You promise you’ll call?” You look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.”

You sit up and nod even though part of you knows he probably won’t call.

“Daddy it’s time for the fireworks.” Henry calls out.

“I’ll go get the headphones for them.”

“Meet you by the stage.” You tell Bucky as you walk arm in arm with Eddie. On the way you take Henry’s hand and find Charlotte sitting on Steve’s shoulders.

Bucky is next to you in a flash with some noise canceling headphones for both the kids. As the show starts Henry flinches the first few times a firework goes off but eventually is mesmerized by the display of colors.

Eventually the fireworks ended. A birthday cake was brought out for America and not Steve. Although Tony did tell him to blow out the candles.

It was a perfect ending to a great weekend. In his arms, Bucky held a sleeping Charlotte and you held a sleepy Henry. They tended to get clingy when they were tired but neither of you minded. Instead you appreciated every moment because you knew that one day they wouldn’t need you to tuck them in anymore.

After getting the kids in bed you and Bucky made your way to your room. After a quick shower and changing into clean pajamas both you and Bucky collapse on the bed. He holds you close and kisses the top of your head.

“I missed you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep away from you for more than a day.” You mutter unto his chest.

“Me either. I was thinking that we should maybe plan a weekend away with just the kids.”

“Yeah, that would be great. We could go up to the cabin or plan something else, something fun. I know dad wouldn’t care if we used the cabin but I’ll look into other ideas.” You ramble on as you relax into him even more.

Bucky smiles as he begins to make plans of his own. The first thing he’ll do is go shop for a ring. Then he’ll have to decide where he’ll propose but most importantly he knows he wants to involve the kids. He knows you’ll love that. You’d probably lose your mind if you saw him and Henry in a suit and tie and of course Charlotte in a dress.

Bucky can feel it deep in his bones. This will be the true start of the rest of his life and he smiles as he finally falls asleep.

Ch 24

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[instructionsnotincluded]

Story Links:

Outer Banks:

Audrey's Version:

Snow on the Beach (JJ Maybank x OC)

Part One | Complete | Over 250,000 Words | 18+

Summary:

Eighteen year old Audrey Routledge had everything going for her...until she didn't. With her dad lost at sea, suddenly the weight of the world is on Audrey's shoulders as she battles keeping her brother out of the system and the police out of her house--all while trying to hold down a full time job. As the bills pile up and hard decisions need to be made, Audrey's not sure life could get any harder. Enter Hurricane Agatha. With the hurricane comes clean ups, sleepless nights, stolen kisses, and a deadly treasure hunt they might not come back from.

State of Grace:

Part Two | Complete | Over 228,000 Words | 18+

Summary:

Just when she thought life couldn't get any harder, it does. It's been a month since her younger brother was declared lost at sea, and Audrey Routledge is not ok. Haunted by nightmares and dark thoughts, Audrey is stumbling through each day as she attempts to pick up the pieces of her broken life. Until she receives a phone call one random afternoon. With it come tears of hope, worried frustrations, passionate kisses, and the continuation of a treasure hunt they might not make it back from.

Into the Mist

Part Three | Work in Progress | 18+

Summary:

The last few months have been the hardest for eighteen year old Audrey Routledge, so when life presents her with a mountain of lemons after jumping from a container ship, Audrey is eager to make lemonade with her friends and family. However, their short lived paradise quickly becomes a nightmare as they encounter new characters, old faces, more mystery, and darker secrets that will shake the foundation of the life she’s created, bringing them closer and closer to their treasure hunt’s epic conclusion.

Deleted Scenes:

JJ and Audrey want to start a family

Logan's Version:

Wild Winds (Rafe Cameron x OC)

Part One | Work in Progress | 18+

Summary:

Wise men once said: "Wild winds are death to the candle.” A rose by any other name is a scandal.

Life on Kildare Island is harsh when you’re born into an abusive family on the Cut, and Logan Maybank has always seemed to get the short end of the stick in both life and love. She works tirelessly to keep her brother and herself alive, trying to fly under the radar of both the Kooks and the police in order to keep her job and remain afloat.

Until Rafe Cameron and his stupid blue eyes ruined all that; sending them both spiraling down the rabbit hole of love, loss, secrecy, and greed, with only each other to hold on to.

And she thought Hurricane Agatha was going to be the worst thing to happen this summer.

Read Requested Story Snippets Here

Misc:

JJ Maybank x Original Character Sneak Peek (Not Audrey's Version)

Masters of the Air:

True North:

Work in Progress | 18+

Summary:

Struggling to defy expectations during the height of WWII, Captain Stella Frank is determined to prove her worth as an Air Transport Auxiliary Pilot in the male-dominated world of aviation. As she navigates the skies with skill and determination, she encounters a diverse array of characters, each with their own struggles and triumphs. Among them is John "Bucky" Egan, whose charm, bravery, and dedication to his fellow pilots catch Frank's attention amidst the chaos of war. Can they navigate not only the treacherous skies but also the complexities of love and loyalty in a time of uncertainty and sacrifice? Or are they doomed to go down in flames like the world around them?

Delete Scenes:

Bucky’s letter to his mother

Frances' letter to her mother

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part six)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader

after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, guns, violence, kidnapping, mentions of murder/death, sexual tension, death of parent, verbal fighting/argument, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, betrayal, animal death, hunting, mention of bounty hunters, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: part six!! we're in the end game now, let me know your thoughts sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a canvas of deep purples and fiery oranges, casting the landscape in a warm, otherworldly glow before darkness took hold. You and Bucky watch the transition silently, feeling the cool evening breeze ruffle your hair and send shivers down your spine. The crackling flames of the campfire provided a comforting warmth, but you couldn't help but notice the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

Setting up camp near the winding river had advantages; the proximity to water made it easier to replenish your supplies, and you planned to follow said river to an eventual civilisation, but it also meant lower temperatures. In the distance, the silhouettes of deer and rabbits darted across the plains, their movements accompanied by the gentle rustling of bushes. The haunting sound of coyotes filled the air, their distant howls echoing through the stillness of the night, a constant reminder of the untamed wilderness that surrounded you.

You had cooked up the last food, two cans of beans. One for you, one for Barnes. You were both starving after days of travel, so you did not bother to scrunch your nose at the food. A comfortable silence had fallen over both of you, but you couldn’t help but notice how Bucky’s eyes often drifted over to you. You wondered if he was sizing you up. The fire crackled and cast a warm glow on his rugged features, accentuating his intense gaze. You found his silent scrutiny both unnerving and intriguing, wondering what thoughts ran through his mind as he observed you.

Exhaustion weighed heavy in your bones, and you hoped the outlaw would fall asleep soon. It was unsafe to be the first, in case he slipped his binds and ambushed you. You can feel the weight of your eyelids as your head bobs slightly, trying to keep yourself awake. You scan the surroundings, the flickering light of the campfire casting eerie shadows across the clearing. Every rustle of the leaves or crack of a branch made your heart skip a beat. The thought of being murdered in your sleep undoubtedly motivated you to remain vigilant. You didn’t take Bucky for the cruel type. He was violent, yes, but not sadistic. At least you hoped. 

“How’d you get into this business?” The outlaw's voice breaks the silence, and your head jolts upward to meet his steady gaze.

“Why?” You ask, voice tinged with suspicion. Did he still think you were just a bounty hunter after everything he'd seen?

“Just curious, that’s all.” It was as though the quiet unsettled him too, and he was anxious to fill it.

You consider his words, sucking on your teeth thoughtfully. Your mission wasn't driven by money; it was fueled by revenge. Vigilante was a more fitting title for you. Many had asked you the same questions along your journey. You'd stroll into ramshackle saloons and bars, ensuring to unbutton your bodice or blouse and wear a coy smile. Men, often foolish and drunk, rarely thought beyond their desires. It was easy to pick up a breadcrumb trail, piecing together murmurs and rumours circulating through the small trading towns. Each time, you spun elaborate lies; the truth was more mundane than any story you could fabricate. You'd tell them you were a descendant of a long line of bounty hunters, seeking revenge on the man who killed your one true love, or trying to impress a hardy gentleman back east.

Maybe tonight you could tell the truth. The two of you are alone now. His quickly approaching date with death warranted some honesty between the both of you. He didn’t even know half the story; at least, he hadn't picked it up. He had taken one look at your attire and fluttering eyelashes and dismissed you as harmless. Not a threat. He didn’t even know why, out of all the outlaws in the country, you had chosen him.

“‘Cause of my Pa,” you hum. Your voice is a soft melody in the stillness. You pick at some softer grass that protrudes from the earth. “He’s dead now.”

“I remember. You told me back in Crimson Junction.”

A genuine smile emerges on your face at his words. So he had remembered. “He was a hard-workin’ man, a blacksmith. He worked hard to keep me and my Ma fed. We were close, ‘least I was closer with him than I was my Ma. She always took it kind of hard, I think. Called us thick as thieves. One day, he and my Ma went a couple of towns over on the train for their wedding anniversary and left me alone at the house.” 

You pause, taking a deep breath, before continuing. Your smile falters. “The day they were supposed to come back, they were late. I waited up all night, sick to my stomach. I went over all these terrible things that could’ve happened to them. Until my Ma returned home early in the mornin’, covered in blood, cryin’ her eyes out.”

Your face tightens, the muscles around your mouth drawing into a grimace. “There had been some holdup on the train, some robbery gone wrong. He was killed. Shot in the back of the head like some animal. My Ma, she watched the whole thing. She couldn’t do anything. Just screamed.” 

​​You lift your gaze, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a hard stare. “They never caught the guy.”

The blood drains from Bucky’s face as he listens. You continue to fidget with the grass, your brows scrunching in thought, the memories as vivid as the day they occurred.

“Every day I would go down to the sheriff station and look at the bounty posters. I would look at the faces of the men. My Ma pointed out the poster of the man who she claimed was responsible. And I would stand there, and I would stare, wonderin’ if we would get the justice we deserved.”

“Where was this robbery?” Bucky questions, his voice strained. You ignore him. 

“The law lost interest, some rich stagecoach was robbed, and all their eyes turned away.” You continue, a bitter edge creeping into your tone. “It made me sick that those men, the men who swore they would bring justice, abandoned us so quickly, all for a few more dollars.”

Bucky’s face twists with horror and guilt as the weight of your words settles over him. You watch him for a moment, your expression cold. 

“Me and my Ma had some money, but we were gonna starve without my Pa’s work. We couldn’t work the forge or have a bank account… so we sold it. The best I could do was marry and send money back to my Ma but… but all I could do was stare at those posters. So I bought a horse with what little we had left, took my Pa’s rifle, and rode out. I followed hints and leads until I found a trail.”

“Ya don’t understand—” Bucky speaks up again, near-begging. Your eyes snap upward, and you lift your chin high, your mouth set in a firm line.

“That trail led me to Crimson Junction. It led me to you.”

The silence returns, thicker and uncomfortable. Bucky’s eyes are downcast in shame, like a scolded dog. Your stomach twists, a nauseating frustration gnawing at your gut. You rise to your knees, your knuckles white as you aim your rifle over his heart.

“And to think, I spent weeks or months staring at your picture on a poster," you continue, your voice akin to a snarl. "I thought when I found you that you’d be some monster. I knew in my heart that you were evil because you shot my Pa. In the back of the head, no less, like a coward. You couldn’t even shoot a man who was lookin’ you in the eyes."

You pause, a mix of exasperation and disbelief in your tone. “I wondered if you’d have horns like a devil or hooved feet. But when I saw you… you were normal. And instead of this wickedness I had prepared myself for, you showed me kindness. In that saloon. You didn’t know me, yet you protected me.”

You lock eyes with Bucky, demanding an answer. “Why?” 

Bucky remains silent. You lurch forward, still aiming the gun. 

“Why?!” You scream at him, your voice echoing through the quiet of the night. The outlaw doesn’t even flinch. 

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Bucky replies quietly, his eyes casting down again for a moment before meeting yours again.

You sneer at him. 

“The right thing? The right thing to do?” You scoff, your tone laced with utter disbelief. You let out a sharp, almost delirious laugh. “You killed my father. You. You killed him. He turned his back, and you, like a coward, shot him. You pulled that trigger.” 

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Ya left your home, marched out into this desert… all because of yer father?”

“Yes.” You say, chest heaving with each breath. “My mother is still in mourning, you know. Dressed in black each day, that’s if she even gets out of bed. It was never about the bounty money, but justice. It was about revenge. I would bring you back to Aramiah and I would watch you swing. You’d take your last breath, and the last thing you’d see would be me and my Ma smilin’ up at you.”

“That’s why you’re draggin’ us all the way to Aramiah? For revenge?” Bucky barks.

“I’m beginnin’ to think I should’ve shot you out here and put you down like the animal you are. ‘Least I’d have the guts to look you in the eye while I did it.” You hiss.

Bucky rises to his knees, his movements slow and deliberate as he shuffles towards you. Your shoulders tense involuntarily, and your hands are steady on the rifle as you watch him pause before you.

“Then do it,” he challenges. 

The pounding of your heart reverberates in your chest, feeling as if it might leap out of your throat. The sound was as deafening as the rushing flood waters that had devastated Crimson Junction. You could do it. You could end the journey that you had foolishly started. You could end this cycle of violence and suffering. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and your arms began to tremble under the strain. Bucky did not move an inch; his eyes were locked with yours. Silent acceptance. It made you sick. 

Would killing him really end the cycle? Or would the wheel spin once more, creating a new path of destruction through your actions? Your head ached with the weight of the decision, and your palms were slick with sweat. Was this the path of righteousness, or was it wickedness in disguise?

You could kill him; you could end it. But it still meant your Ma would starve. It still meant you’d have to return the same as you left. You’d still have to marry and carry the weight of all you had been through and all that was to come. Even if you were not the one to pull the trigger, even if he swung… would you feel better? Would there still be a pit in your chest that seemed to deepen with each passing day?

It would pass. 

It will pass.

You threw the rifle to the ground with a grunt, sitting back on your haunches. Bucky observed you with a grim expression, mirroring your actions as he lowered himself to the ground across from you.

“I will watch them hang you.” You tell him, hands shaking. “I will watch you die, and the world will be better for it.”

—

A fine, ethereal mist lay over the landscape in the early morning, casting a dreamy veil over the terrain. Dew clung to every surface, tiny beads of moisture coating the grass and bushes like delicate jewels. Even your hair and clothes were damp, the moisture seeping into your skin and leaving a slight ache in your bones when you awoke.

Both you and Bucky were quick to rise. There was no need for words; you both understood the urgency of covering as much ground as possible before the midday sun turned the desert into a scorching furnace.

This wordless routine continued for several days. Each morning, you would wake early, drink from the river, and follow its current through the arid landscape. Bucky, his hands bound, trailed behind you on the horse. By midday, you would seek out any available shelter—a rock, a tree—anything to provide respite from the relentless heat. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you would resume your journey, travelling until darkness enveloped the land. Then, you would light a fire, rest, and prepare to repeat the cycle the next day.

The two of you did not speak again until the third day.

The river's water kept you both hydrated, but the cool liquid did little to sate your hunger. The two of you sat under a sparse tree, its leaves rustling in the gentle breeze as shadows and light danced across your skin. The patch of shade was so small that your shoulders were pressed against each other, despite your mutual disdain.

Bucky leant his head back against the trunk, loose strands of hair tickling his forehead, his eyes closed. You, meanwhile, eye him cautiously, your arms hugging the rifle in your lap. Despite his constant nonchalance, you never let your guard down around the outlaw.

Just as you thought he had drifted asleep, Bucky’s eyes crack open as your stomach growls. It has been grumbling for the past two days, the lack of food and constant exertion were wearing you down to exhaustion.

“Ya know, we see animals all the time while we’re walkin’. Why don’t you shoot one and feed yerself so we both don’t have to listen to yer stomach wailin’ all the time?” He asks with a sigh.

You swore he was asleep. You had counted his breaths and listened as they grew slow and deep. Now he was peering across at you. His tone didn’t sound hostile, but it certainly wasn’t concern laced. He was rather frustrated, like he had discovered the solution to the mystery, but you were still struggling to solve the first clue. 

“You really think I haven’t already thought about that?” You snip back, your voice sharp. Bucky’s eyebrow twitches, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he leans back against the rough bark of the tree.

“Ya know how to hunt, right?” He asks, his tone flat and expectant.

You remain silent, tilting your head away so you don’t have to look at him, staring instead at the distant horizon where the distant, blue mountains stood ever vigilant.

“Yer Pa taught you how to shoot, but he didn’t teach ya how to hunt?” He questions again, astounded. 

“He taught me how to protect myself from other people. People like you. His lessons were usually of the ‘wherever you shoot you’re bound to hit something important enough’ variety.” You retort, bitterness creeping into your voice as you clench your fists in your lap.

“That don’t answer my question.” He presses, eyes narrowing.

“People are big, usually runnin’ towards you. So we would line up bottles and cans… I never had movin’ targets.” 

Bucky sighs in disbelief, his bound hands raising to rub his face in exasperation. “So yer gonna let yerself starve? On account of what—pride?” 

“And what do you suggest I do? I’m not wastin’ bullets teachin’ myself out here.” You snap, turning your head to finally glare at him.

“Well, I know how to hunt.” He offers, his voice calmer now, almost coaxing, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You don’t seriously think I would give you the gun?” You scoff.

“It was worth a try.” 

“Unbelievable.” You mutter under your breath. 

“I could teach you. Tell you how hunt… how to aim right—” Bucky starts, his voice more earnest now, leaning slightly forward.

“I’m not givin’ you this gun Barnes—” You cut him off.

“I weren’t sayin that—”

“Then what are you sayin’?!”

Maybe it was the relentless heat bearing down on you both, making the air thick and maddening, but you wanted to wring his neck out of sheer frustration. 

“I can tell you what to do. You hold the gun and I can guide you.” 

You pause. The sweltering sun seemed to amplify every irritation, yet you couldn't deny the practicality of his offer. You study his face, searching for any trace of deceit. The hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his eyes all speak to his desperation—a desperation that mirrors your own. 

“Would that really work?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits, his gaze unwavering, the honesty in his voice catching you off guard. “But it sounds better than starvin’.”

You narrow your eyes at him, weighing the risks, your fingers digging into the coarse fabric of your skirt. The memory of your father, of what Bucky had done, gnaws at you, but so does the gnawing emptiness in your stomach, the fear of dying out here alone.

“Alright,” you finally concede. 

A reluctant truce.

—

When the overhead sun slowly began to dip across the blue skies and the late afternoon heat started to sizzle out, you and Bucky emerged from your shade. The heat of the day gave way to a more bearable warmth, and the sky began to change colours as the sun descended. Bucky had explained to you earlier that rabbits were most active at dusk or dawn, which worked well for you since your skin already felt burned to a crisp. 

The two of you lay parallel to each other, downwind from an active burrow the outlaw had spotted during your short scouting mission away from the riverbed. Tall grass tickled your skin as you settled into position, the skies blooming in beautiful oranges and pinks as the sun sank below the horizon. 

You lay close to one another so that Bucky could whisper instructions to you without alerting your prey. Your forearms and shoulders knocked against each other occasionally as both of you leaned on your elbows, scanning the environment for any signs of movement. The proximity was necessary, but it also brought an unexpected sense of intimacy that neither of you acknowledged.

It was strangely peaceful, as if the tension between you had been cut. You had spent so many days boiling over, caught up in your terrible thoughts that repeated in circles in your head. Having a moment to focus on something other than your misery was weirdly pleasant, even if the company wasn’t. 

“There. By that bush,” Bucky hisses beside you, his voice barely a whisper. His body is tense, every muscle coiled in anticipation. You follow his gaze, your own limbs frozen, acutely aware of the need for stillness. “Ya see it?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice equally low and hushed. Your fingers tightened around the metal of the rifle, the surface warm and slippery from your sweaty touch. 

“Aim up yer shot like you would normally.” The outlaw instructed, his head dipping slightly as he remained locked onto the rabbit through the tall grass.

You follow his instructions, moving slowly and deliberately. Using the sights, you guide the barrel to the left, aligning it with the small, delicate form of the rabbit. Your heart pounds in your chest as you rest your aim over the rabbit's shoulder, sucking in a slow, steady breath. Through the sights, you can see its twitchy little nose sniffing cautiously and its beady eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

“Good.” Bucky’s voice was low and grumbling. The praise left a heat in your gut. “Aim over the head if ya can. Better to save as much meat as possible.”

You follow his guiding words once more, adjusting your aim and lifting the barrel slightly. The rabbit moves forward a step, its ears twisting, still unaware of the danger.

“Now, deep breath. Squeeze the trigger nice and slow,” he instructs, his voice a low, calming murmur. You can feel his warm breath ghosting across your cheek. 

You follow his words, your fingers hovering over the trigger as you breathe in deeply. The rabbit's whiskers twitch and its nose sniffs the air cautiously. You exhale slowly, centring yourself, your finger now steady on the trigger.

The shot rings out—a sharp, deafening crack that echoes across the empty plains, momentarily drowning out all other sounds. Around you, wildlife scatters in a flurry of motion; birds take flight in panicked flocks, and deer bound deeper into the desert, their white tails flashing in the fading light. You grit your teeth, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as the rabbit's white tail disappears into its burrow, unharmed.

“I told you this wouldn’t work.” You grumble, pushing the rifle away with a rough shove. 

It was not like you to be quick to give up. You had always been fiercely determined your entire life; that’s how you ended up in this mess in the first place. You did not falter when faced with difficult or even seemingly impossible tasks. But this journey, this desert, had worn you down. Maybe it was the hunger and heatstroke talking, but you felt as though holes had been worn into your very being, draining you of the strength that had always defined you.

With a groan, you roll onto your back, your arm draped over your brow as you stare upward at the sky. The deep blue was darkening, and the warm light of the sunset was casting the world into a purple haze as the twilight hours descended. The stars began to peek through, tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse above, indifferent to your struggles.

Bucky was silent beside you, but when you glance over, you realise he was watching you with an uncharacteristically soft and unguarded expression. The usual brooding edge of his expression seem to soften in the fading light, his eyes reflecting a quiet concern.

“We still have time. Sun’s not set yet,” he says, his voice gentle, almost coaxing. 

You consider his words, your empty stomach clenching so hard it was nauseating. “This isn’t working,” you repeat yourself. The outlaw frowned, his brow furrowing in thought.

“It’s not that it’s just—” He sighs, tilting his head slightly as if searching for the right words. “Yer too tense, you need to relax a bit, yer shot jerked up.” 

“Barnes—” You begin with a grumble and he cuts you off. 

“One more try. I think I might go mad if I have to listen to yer stomach wailin’ any longer. If ya untied me, I could guide ya better,” he says, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious.

You scowl at him, the idea of untying him again makes you uneasy. There was an unspoken truce between the two of you. You had untied the man before, and he had not moved to attack you. He had kept his word, proving to be more useful than you ever wanted to admit. Maybe his help would get you this rabbit... but you certainly would not be giving him the gun.

As you mull over the decision, you can't ignore the twisting hunger that makes every second feel like an eternity. The analytical side of you recognised the sense in his suggestion. With a reluctant sigh, you reach over and begin to untie the ropes binding his hands. Bucky remains still, his eyes never leaving your face.

Once freed, he flexes his wrists, rubbing at the raw skin before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, let’s do this proper.” He says, his tone more focused now. 

Once again, you find yourself in position, stomach flat against the ground, shoulder-to-shoulder with Bucky. The earthy scent of the soil mixed with the faint fragrance of prairie grass fills your senses, grounding you. It didn’t take long for the rabbits to reemerge, their eager movements a testament to their obliviousness to the two of you tucked between blades of grass downwind.

Your sights rest on a clear shot, a rabbit out in the open, less obscured by foliage. You watch it as it sniffs around.

“You need to breathe, sweetheart,” Bucky hums from beside you, his voice a low, calming murmur. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, your mouth set in a determined line, and your shoulders tense. Bucky shifts beside you, his movements are deliberate and slow. Your head swivels away from your prey to look over at him in disbelief. 

“What’re you doin’—” you protest, only to cut yourself short. The outlaw had pushed himself up on his elbows, his hands coming to rest on your shoulder blades. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, locking you in place. 

“Relax,” he mutters, his voice soft yet firm, as he applies gentle pressure with his palms against your upper back. The word was more of a command than a suggestion, and it resonates deep within you.

Brows drawn together, you face forward again, focusing on the rabbit. You’d have to process the outlaw nearly being on top of you later. His palms smooth across your shirt, the rough texture of his calloused hands against the soft fabric. He gently guides your pose until your shoulders are relaxed, and the tension gradually dissipates under his touch. 

You try to focus on your breathing, each inhale and exhale is measured and slow. Bucky continues to adjust your arms, indicating small movements with the slightest nudge of his hands. His touch is careful, almost tender, as he directs you, his fingers brushing against your skin. Then, his hands sweep down until they rest on your lower back, the warmth of his palms seeping through your shirt. His chin comes to rest over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. 

Much to your annoyance, you find that his silent suggestions were indeed helpful. Your body feels strangely at ease, even with him practically perched atop you. Your skin burns under his touch, heat flooding your cheeks as you try to focus on the task at hand.

“There you go, darlin’.” He whispers into your ear, his breath warm and his voice a low, soothing rumble. You can feel the vibrations of his tone through your back. Turning your focus to the rabbit once more, you breathe as he instructs, the rise and fall of your ribcage pressing against his chest with each inhale and exhale. 

You pull the trigger.

To your disbelief, the rabbit drops dead instantly.

A profound silence envelops both of you as the final echo of the gunshot fades into the distance. Bucky straightens up and offers a lopsided grin. You finally turn your head to stare at him in astonishment.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, but a smile begins to tug at your lips.

The tension that had coiled tight in your chest unravels all at once, replaced by a surge of elation. Laughter, raw and unfiltered, bubbles up from deep within you. It's a mixture of disbelief and relief.

Bucky shares in your joy. His chuckle is a deep, rumbling sound that mingles with your laughter, a genuine grin spreading across his rugged features. "Hell of a shot." 

Overcome with emotion, you surprise yourself by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. His body stiffens momentarily, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Then, as if suddenly remembering he had control over his own body, he relaxes into your embrace. His hand finds its place gently on your back. You feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your rapid pulse.

Then, as quickly as it surfaced, you jerk away with flushed cheeks.

His gaze flickers, darkening with a primal intensity. 

You remain shoulder-to-shoulder in the grass, the warmth of his body lingering where your shoulders, arms, and hips meet. A gentle breeze sweeps through the prairie, causing his dark hair to flutter. You swallow hard, but you can't bring yourself to look away from him.

The brief moment of triumph from shooting the rabbit—a moment of success after days—begins to fade. Bucky reaches forward, wordlessly and tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Hunger still bites at you, but alongside the physical ache, there’s another hunger—an unsettling, confusing desire for the man beside you. 

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. A part of you craves more. You want him to trace his fingers down your cheek, across your collarbone, and down to the swell of your breasts. You want his touch desperately, painfully. You're starving for him, your entire body trembling with need as you imagine his hands roaming lower, his lips searing against your skin. You long to feel his sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips, to draw unimaginable sounds from him with just your hands and mouth.

Maybe it's the madness of being under the sun for days on end, a blend of starvation and lunacy. Food is just meters away, yet you can't tear your gaze from him. Not as you lean into his touch, not even as your lips part.

Not even as you foolishly reach out, running your fingers through his hair.

And maybe he is just as foolish and hungry as you, because the outlaw grasps your face gently between his palms. His calloused hands are warm against your skin. He hesitates for a heartbeat, searching your eyes for any sign of resistance. When he finds none, he leans in and kisses you.

[kandisheek]

Hey friend!! Some prompts for you (choose your fave, do them all, whatever floats your boat!)

1. Steve and female Tony during a team picnic/party and Steve surprises Toni by asking her to re-marry him and renew their vows 😍

2. Steve and Tony undercover and having to make out for cover identity reasons, except then they get into it a little too much and lose track of the target

3. Bucky and Tony in a daemon au—Bucky has a white wolf (obvi) and Tony has a leopard, and when they first meet during CW their daemons touch and they both jolt and realize that they’re soulmates, effectively ending any conflict between the sides of the teams

Have fun friend!!! 🥰🥰

Hello friend! Sorry for the long wait! I chose your undercover prompt and went ham with it ;) I hope you enjoy!

---

“Can't believe they're making us do this,” Brock grumbled, toying with the gun in his pocket as he walked through yet another clothing store, surreptitiously looking around for their target. He'd known from the first moment he'd met him that Rogers was a pain in the ass, but he never would've guessed that he'd have to hunt him down in a fucking mall of all places.

When he'd joined STRIKE, Brock had thought that their missions would include a lot more active combat, something fun where he could let loose. Instead they'd been sent on their third recon mission in a row, and he was getting sick of walking around like an asshole, looking for some fucker who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

“Nothing in the back,” Rollins said as they regrouped, and Brock nodded.

“Get Piper and Flynn and spread out. Top floor.” He pointed at the remaining two of his team. “We're going to head down. Rendezvous in thirty.” Rollins nodded, marching off as Brock turned on Davis and Khan. “Let's go.”

They followed him towards the escalator, heading down to level one. Brock scanned the people coming up on the opposite side, a couple of teenage girls, an old lady, a – ugh, a fucking pair of homos kissing. Brock averted his eyes with a sneer, waiting until they passed him before he continued looking out across the hall. He stepped down onto the ground floor, checking the nearby storefronts for any sign of –

A commotion. Brock whipped around, looking up at the floor above, the one they'd just left, where the hushed murmurs of a gathering crowd could be heard. He gave Davis and Khan a sign, and they all practically sprinted up the escalator, turning towards the open space on their right to see –

Brock's mouth dropped open. For a second he couldn't believe his eyes, but there was no doubt that – yes, that was Steve fucking Rogers bending none other than Tony fucking Stark over a fucking trashcan in the middle of a public fucking mall, shoving his tongue down his throat.

“Um,” Davis said, and Brock slowly shook his head. “Is that –“

“Yes,” Brock said numbly. “Yes, it is.”

Khan shuffled his feet. “So, uh. What do we –“

“Advance on target. We just – advance on target. Yeah.” Brock cleared his throat, sticking his hand in his pocket to get a hold of his gun. “Spread out.”

Davis and Khan still looked faintly shocked as they nodded and assumed position. Neither Rogers nor Stark seemed to notice the three men closing in on them, which was understandable, given that there was already a crowd forming, Stark seemed to have both of his hands down the back of Rogers' pants, and Brock couldn't really tell whose tongue was in whose mouth at this point.

“Oh my god!”

The high-pitched screech may have made Brock wince, but Rogers and Stark sprang apart like two jacks in a box, their faces red and eyes wild. Brock wrinkled his nose. Christ, Rogers looked like he was fucking high, dazed and mussed to shit. Stark on the other hand looked like the cat who got the cream.

“What the heck do you think you're doing?” the random woman continued in the same piercing shriek, covering her two children's eyes with one hand each. “This is a public space. There are children here!”

“Oh gosh.” Rogers covered his mouth, which did nothing to hide the mortified flush on his cheeks. “Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I don't know what –“

“You better get out of here or I'll call the police,” the woman yelled, and Stark stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly.

“We'll leave. Truly, so sorry. Won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn't,” she snapped before she grabbed her children and tugged them away into the still growing crowd of curious onlookers. One of the kids kept turning back over his shoulder, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Mommy, mommy,” he said, all child-like wonder. “Was that Ironman?”

Brock glanced around the room to see several people with their phones out, obviously recording this entire mess. When he looked back at Rogers, Stark was already staring right at him, his eyes hard and full of threat. Obviously Stark was well aware of who Brock was and who he was working for. Meanwhile, the Captain looked like he was struggling not to spontaneously combust from shame.

It might have been funny, had it not been so utterly inconvenient.

He could tell that Davis and Khan were still waiting for his signal to move in, but there were too many eyes on them now. If they took Rogers in here, it would be all over the news within minutes. They couldn't afford that kind of publicity. And either way, Stark was a loose canon that they weren't prepared to deal with at this stage.

He made a subtle sign for his men to fall back, turning away from the spectacle those two idiots were still making of themselves. They'd grab Rogers out in the parking lot or something. And if Stark was still with him at that point, then Pierce could go fuck himself and his orders. Brock wasn't going to carry Rogers off while the man was saluting America in his pants.

There were limits to what he was willing to do. Even for HYDRA.

[sebstanaddict]

Midnight and The Light

Vampire!Bucky x Reader Story

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is a vampire detective working for the London police to cover up murders done by his own people. One day his world turns upside down when a female detective is assigned to work with him.

James and reader are running away from the hunt of his leader, Draven, when they run into vampire hunters. When reader managed to kill one, the act traumatized her deeply, sending her into a panic attack and James is forced to do something to calm her down.

Warning : violence and murder depiction

Word count : 2.5k

Chapters : 4/10 (May add more)

Chapter list >

---

As they left the sprawling streets of London behind, the landscape around them slowly transformed. The dense cityscape gave way to the wild, rolling English countryside. Dark clouds loomed above, stretching like shadows over the fields, with the occasional patch of moonlight casting an eerie silver glow on the farmlands and forests they passed.

The road wound through ancient villages and sleepy hamlets, their stone cottages huddled together as if to ward off the night. Every so often, they would pass a centuries-old church or an abandoned manor, its silhouette stark against the sky, giving the countryside an unsettling, almost haunted beauty. An endless silence accompanied them, broken only by the hum of the car engine and the distant rustle of leaves as the wind swept through the trees.

The weight of their escape, paired with the bleakness of the scenery, hung heavy between them. Every flicker in the shadows felt like a pair of eyes watching, a hunter's presence close behind. The moon sat low and full above the trees, casting long, ghostly shadows on the road.

Inside the car, Y/n kept her gaze fixed outside, taking in the scenery but feeling the tension rise as the darkness deepened. She wrapped her arms around herself, and though she knew James was sitting right beside her, the silence between them only added to the strange emptiness she felt. She had so many questions, but the words seemed to escape her every time she tried to speak.

After a while, James glanced at her, breaking the quiet. "It feels different, doesn't it?" he said softly, his voice nearly blending with the murmur of the tires on the gravel road.

Y/n turned to him, meeting his eyes briefly. "Everything looks... different. It feels heavier somehow. Like there's something in the air I can't place."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his gaze. "The supernatural has a way of altering the world around it. Places that have seen enough magic or violence take on a life of their own. You'll start noticing these things more as you become more aware of the world we live in."

The words stirred something in her—a thrill mixed with unease. She could feel herself drifting farther from the life she once knew, and as they drove deeper into the countryside, it felt like they were leaving behind any semblance of safety.

They fell into silence again, each lost in thought, as the landscape continued to shift. The narrow road led them past dense patches of forest and sprawling fields framed by stone walls, the occasional signpost pointing toward long-forgotten destinations. The weight of the journey settled over them like a shroud, making the miles feel both timeless and endless.

Hours passed, and finally, the dim glow of a rest area appeared ahead—a lone island of light in the dark expanse. As they pulled into the lot, the rest area seemed almost deserted, save for a few shadowy figures scattered near the entrance. Y/n's gaze lingered on them, feeling the piercing eyes of strangers upon her.

They parked, stepping out into the cold night air. James gave her a nod as she headed toward the restroom, his posture tense as he scanned the area. She could tell he was on edge, just as she was, and as she walked away, the feeling of vulnerability only deepened.

The restroom was dim, sterile, and cold. She'd barely turned to leave when she noticed a movement—a man, barely a shadow in the flickering lights, rushed toward her. She gasped, stumbling back as he closed in, his grip on her arm iron-strong.

"Filthy leech," he spat, shoving her back against the sink. Panic surged as she struggled against him, heart pounding wildly.

"Get off her." James's voice was a sharp command behind them, and in one swift motion, he threw the man back against the wall with a sickening crack. James grabbed her hand and led her out the restroom's back exit.

They stepped into the cold night air, but Y/n's relief was short-lived. Figures emerged, creeping out from the dark, silent and lethal as they encircled them. Six hunters, all armed. Y/n felt her breath hitch, panic clawing up her throat.

James's tone was a hard whisper. "Stay close. Hunters—they know vampires on sight, smell, movement. We're like a beacon to them."

A hunter sneered. "Think you could hide, leeches?"

She felt a surge of rage and fear, her heart hammering as her muscles coiled, ready to defend herself. A hunter rushed her, and she dodged, barely conscious of her own speed, her fists striking out on instinct. Her hand slammed into his chest, sending him back a step. Before she could process it, another lunged forward, blade in hand, and she caught his wrist. Their strength matched as she shoved him back, only for him to charge again.

Something in her snapped. An instinct, a raw, furious power surged. She swung with all her might, her hand connecting with his chest in a violent blow. She felt the snap of bone under her fist, and he dropped instantly, crumpling lifeless at her feet.

The world slowed as she stared down, her breath catching. He was dead. Her chest tightened, and her heart pounded as she looked at her hands, the limp form on the ground. Her vision tunneled, horror filling her.

"I... I killed him," she whispered, voice barely audible, her body shaking as the weight of what she'd done sank in.

The remaining hunters moved in, but James acted quickly, dispatching them with cold precision. His movements were swift, controlled, as if his own emotions were locked away in a place she couldn't reach. She was numb, unable to move, the image of the hunter's empty, staring eyes etched in her mind.

"Y/n!" James's voice broke through, sharp with urgency as he took her hand, pulling her toward the car. She stumbled, legs barely obeying as he ushered her inside, his grip firm. She clutched her knees, breaths shallow and erratic, her heart racing out of control.

James sped from the rest area, his gaze flicking toward her, concern etched into his face. Her chest tightened, hands trembling as the weight of what she'd done crushed her.

"Look at me," he said softly, pulling over at the side of the road. He turned to her, reaching for her hands, grounding her in his steady grip. "Breathe. You're safe."

"I... I didn't mean to," she stammered, voice barely a whisper. "I didn't want to..."

James's grip tightened slightly, his eyes calm but filled with understanding. "Hunters like them—they wouldn't hesitate to kill us. They live for this. You did what you had to."

She could hardly speak, the memory of the hunter's lifeless body heavy in her mind, pressing down on her chest. "But I killed him, I felt it, James... please, I don't think I can do this. Just take me back to London."

James' expression softened when he saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. "Y/n, it's too dangerous to go back now. They know what you are—they'd find you no matter where you tried to hide."

Her breathing grew shallow, the reality of it closing in on her. "I don't care. I just... I just want my life back," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "I didn't ask for any of this. I don't want any of this."

"Y/n, look at me," he said firmly. But she was too far gone, her chest rising and falling in quick, erratic breaths, her hands gripping the seat so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Please, James... please take me back." Her voice was almost a sob, and hearing it hit him harder than he'd expected. "I just want everything to be normal again..."

"Hey..." he murmured, leaning over. He brushed a hand along her shoulder, gently, but her anxiety only seemed to build, her face turned away, trying to hold back tears.

"Y/n," he said, a note of urgency in his voice. "It's okay... I'm here. You're safe with me."

But nothing seemed to reach her, her fear too strong, her breaths too shallow. Desperate to break through the wall of panic, he moved closer, tilting her chin toward him. And without another thought but only guided by instinct, he pressed his lips to hers, letting the kiss do what words couldn't.

The kiss was firm yet gentle, grounding her in an instant. At first, she stiffened, surprised by the unexpectedness of it. But as the seconds passed, the panic ebbed, her breathing evening out as she became aware of his warmth, his hand steady against her cheek.

He pulled back, watching her closely, his thumb tracing her cheek as he murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever."

She took in a shaky breath, and for the first time since the attack, she met his gaze fully. "James..." Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes still wide with the rawness of the moment.

He gave her a small, reassuring smile, his voice soft. "I'm right here, okay? And I'm not going anywhere."

A tiny, hesitant smile broke through her fear as she nodded, finally feeling a sliver of calm settle over her.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze intense but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over her lips, still feeling the lingering warmth there. "Yeah... better," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

A hint of relief softened his features, but an awkward silence settled over them as they looked at each other, neither quite sure what to say.

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling back slightly, looking embarrassed. "I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"It... it's okay," she replied, her heart still pounding, though now for a very different reason. "I... appreciate it." She glanced away, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "It worked."

James nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as well, though he quickly masked it. "Good," he said, starting the engine again, his voice a little gruffer than usual. "Because we're still a long way from Whitby."

As they merged back onto the road, Y/n stole a quick glance at him, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. The panic had subsided, but the memory of the kiss lingered, sparking something new between them, something she hadn't anticipated.

As they drove through the winding, empty roads toward Whitby, Y/n's mind still reeled from the attack at the rest area. The image of the dead hunter haunted her despite the distraction from his kiss, and a gnawing fear settled in her chest. After a long stretch of silence, she broke it with a hesitant question.

"Who... who are these hunters exactly?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Why are they after us?"

James's gaze was fixed on the road, but he cast her a sideways glance. "Hunters are a group that's existed for centuries. Some of them come from families that pass down the mission, generation after generation. They believe it's their duty to rid the world of anything supernatural, especially vampires."

"Have they... always been around?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He nodded. "They've hunted us since the first vampires walked the earth. And they're relentless. It's more than just a job to them—it's a belief, a purpose. They see us as abominations."

She swallowed, staring out the window as the rolling hills blurred past. "How... how do they know who's a vampire and who isn't?"

"Hunters train to spot us by our movements, our habits. Vampires have a... certain aura that they can sense. Some hunters develop heightened senses or even magic, though rare. They learn to pick up on subtle things, things we often don't realize we're doing."

"Like what?" Y/n asked, glancing over at him.

"Well," he started, a small smile tugging at his lips, "there are little things. Vampires tend to move with a certain grace—an unnatural fluidity. Even our posture can give us away, a certain stillness in the way we stand. It sounds subtle, but trained hunters notice."

She listened, fascinated despite herself. "I didn't know it was that... precise."

"It's one of the reasons why, in places like London, we have to be even more cautious. The hunters there are used to blending in, watching for us in crowds."

She let out a shaky breath, absorbing everything he said. "But... there are others too, right? I mean, other beings... I've heard stories about werewolves and faeries."

James's expression softened as he nodded. "Yes, they exist too. Werewolves, faeries, witches, and a few others—all different communities. Most stay hidden, some in remote areas, others right under humans' noses, blending in with ordinary lives."

"Have you met them? Other... beings, I mean?"

He chuckled. "I have. Werewolves, mostly. They're territorial, and they have a deep bond with nature. They're a lot like us in some ways—strong, secretive, and fiercely loyal to their packs. But they're also... well, a bit more volatile."

She raised an eyebrow. "More volatile than vampires?"

"Maybe that's unfair," he admitted with a small grin. "They have a closer tie to their emotions. It's the animal instinct, the connection to the moon. But werewolves can be allies, especially when it's in their interest."

Y/n found herself leaning closer, captivated. "And faeries? What are they like?"

He looked thoughtful, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Faeries are... hard to describe. They're beautiful, ethereal, but they have a darkness to them too. They're fiercely protective of their realm, and they're notorious tricksters. It's easy to fall under their charm, and they know it."

"So they can't be trusted?" she asked, a mixture of fascination and apprehension in her tone.

"Not exactly. Some faeries are helpful—wise, even. But their help usually comes with a price. They have their own rules and rarely care about what happens to us. They consider themselves superior, especially compared to vampires and humans."

She shivered, picturing the eerie beauty he described. "It sounds like there's this whole world hidden in plain sight."

"There is," he agreed, his tone somber. "But it's not like a secret society with a membership card. It's more... fractured. Vampires keep to themselves, mostly. Werewolves are hidden in their packs, and faeries in their realms. Hunters target any supernatural creature, though vampires are their main focus."

Y/n gazed out the window, trying to picture the world James described—a world of ancient power and deadly alliances, existing right alongside her own. She had always thought of the supernatural as the stuff of myths and stories. Yet here she was, part of that world now, bound by blood and by powers she didn't fully understand.

"Does it ever... get easier?" she asked quietly.

James looked over at her, his expression softening. "It does. The world changes, but you adapt. And you're not alone in this, Y/n. I'll help you learn, to control what you can do. You'll be stronger for it."

They fell into silence, his words lingering in her mind, filling her with a tentative sense of hope.

The night turned into the pale light of dawn as they finally reached Whitby. Y/n's heart twisted with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as they pulled onto a familiar street lined with quaint stone houses. It had been years since she'd been back here.

James parked in front of a modest house with ivy crawling up its walls, the morning light casting a soft glow over its edges. Y/n took a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked at the house that held her childhood memories.

"Ready?" James asked, watching her carefully.

"Not really," she admitted with a small, nervous smile. "But... let's do this."

He gave her a reassuring nod, his hand resting briefly on hers. Together, they stepped out of the car and walked up to the door, ready to face whatever answers—or new mysteries—awaited them.

[smirkingkitten]

Reading list November 2023

It's December and that doesn't just mean the Christmas season starts and it's the time for cozy evenings with candles, blankets and a hot chocolate, but also: it's time for another reading list.

It feels like it's been so long since Loki graced us with a new episode every week. I'm still not quite over the ending, although this interview did heal my poor heart a little, if only just a bit. I hope you're coping well with the ending. And now, happy reading.

✨And don't forget to reblog the storys you read to support all these lovely writers.✨

My other Reading lists can be found in my Fanfiction Bookshelf.

Series | Collections | Multi Parts

The Redbridge Hunts @fanficshiddles

8 Chapters (on going) | Vampire!Loki | fluff

prev. | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8

Summary: Claire moves to Demsdale to take up a new job as an assistant teacher for one Loki Laufeyson. She's also very intrigued with all of the rumours within the borough of Redbridge. However, as she starts to fall for Loki's charm and good looks, she also learns that all of the rumours might not just be rumours after all.

Double Cross @gigglingtiggerv2

12 chapters (on going) | Jaguar Villain!Tom | dark, smut

Summary: In Dante’s inferno, the Eighth Circle of Hell was reserved for liars, panderers, thieves and murderers.  For the criminal underworld it is an opulent London club, representing neutral territory where deals can be made, grievances aired and scores settled.

For the owner, Thomas Cross, it is his own private kingdom, one where he makes the rules and wields absolute authority. Recently, however, that authority has come under threat.  In order to maintain his standing and the Club’s ruthless reputation, it is imperative he find the perpetrator.

In this violent place, where lies are currency and everyone has their own agenda, who can he trust? Certainly not Verity Williams, the talented thief who has her own reasons for infiltrating his organisation. 

Neither can deny the sparks that fly whenever they’re together, but if he’s not careful, will those sparks burn down everything he’s created?

Déchiré @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

7 chapters (on going) | Loki, Bucky, Captain America | smut

You are a HYDRA agent sent to infiltrate the notorious Avengers, to tear them apart in the worst way possible in order to make them vulnerable to attack. In the midst of the wild heat you generate, three suitors take your bait.

One Shots

Firestarter @delaber

4,2k | AvengersMovie!Loki | smut, hatefucking

Rule Number One @just-the-hiddles

medium | Jonathan Pine | smut, dom/sub, daddy, spanking

Gorgeous @ghostofskywalker

1,2k | Avenger!Loki | fluff

Heavy Petting @wheredafandomat

800 | Loki | smut

I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch @wheredafandomat

short | Loki | smut, oral (f reserving)

Aftercare @sarahscribbles

680 | Loki | fluff, spicy

If I was your best friend @wheredafandomat

medium | Loki | smut

Worshiped by a God @sarahscribbles

1,1k | Loki | fluff, smut

Best of Friends @just-the-hiddles

long | Actor!Tom Hiddleston | fluff, friends to lovers

Duty of Care @muddyorbsblr

1,9k | Jonathan Pine | smut, fluff

Winter Warmers: A Winters Night on Asgard @lokischambermaid

930 | Asgard!Loki | fluff

The Sandwich Incident @holdmytesseract

1,2k | Tom Hiddleston | fluff, humour

My Girl @lokisgoodgirl

1,8k | Avenger!Loki | smut, man-bun

Lactation @viviluvssmut

1k | Loki | smut, oral (f reserving)

Drabbles

Don't Move, Darling @sarahscribbles

1,1k | Loki | smut, teasing, edging

Time slipping @wheredafandomat

600 | TVA Loki | smut, hurt/comfort

praise kink, gagging, hickies @ragnarachael

short | Jonathan Pine | smut, daddy kink

Headcanons

Loki and the Watcher @benevolentgodloki

✨Happy reading 😊✨

Back to my Fanfiction Bookshelf

Many of the fanfictions are 18+, so if you're under 18, don't read them.

[buckets-and-trees]

Can you do a part 2 to "Tiny Vessels" where Steve regrets leaving Reader and was just confused and went back to her? I hate it when Steve leaves Reader for Peggy.🥺

You know what? Yes. I also hate that he went back. I half didn't even like writing Tiny Vessels, but I still remember feeling so compelled to write it the day that I did - I think I was punishing him and wanting to add even more layers to him having made a big mistake by going back in time, so... yeah.

AND LET ME BE CLEAR - I'M NOT VEXED YOU ASKED FOR THIS, NONNIE! I'm actually pretty touched that it resonated enough for you to ask for a follow up.

Title: Don't Forget You Were the One Who Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x gn!Reader Word Count: 1.3k

Content/Warnings: angst

Additional Notes: This will clock in as the second of the five offerings for my 300 follower request fest. This ask kicked around in my head, but then this morning it clicked, and I wrote it out in just a few hours, so if there are mistakes, it was the rush of writing. The original was a one-day write, and so I guess it's fitting that this one was, too. And as the original was also heavily influenced by a song, I listened to Wild Way by Tori Amos for some of the inspo on this.

Your breath caught at the sight of him standing next to your door, and you came to an immediate halt.

“Hey,” he said, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the wall, a forced and uneasy smile on his face.

Good, you thought, he shouldn’t feel comfortable.

As you approached and unlocked the door, he didn’t make any other moves to touch or greet you, and you were glad he had enough sense for that. You were glad for the moment of putting your keys in the lock and turning it open to have your face hidden from him so you could bite your lip in frustration. And fear. You desperately worked to keep your heart from racing, knowing he’d be able to hear your heartbeat if he tried – and you knew he would be hyper focused on every sound, movement, and reaction.

You entered your home and left the door open for him to follow you inside. You dropped your purse and keys on the table next to your entry and kept walking. You heard him slowly close the door behind him.

“So, when did you get back?” You asked, knowing he would be waiting for you to speak before pressing you into any further conversation.

“No small talk,” he murmured. You turned to face him, a frown on your face. “No, of course not. Um, today. Only an hour or two ago.”

You crossed your arms and were quiet for another few moments.

“Why did you come here, Steve?” You finally asked.

“You know why–”

You cut him off with a scoffing noise. “I don’t know why.”

“You know in my letter I said– “

“I didn’t read it,” you interrupted again.

He drew his head back sharply, blinking at you. “You didn’t – didn’t Bucky give you – “

“You left without a word, and thought I would want to read a letter you gave to Bucky to give to me? You didn’t get to do that to me.”

He dropped his gaze and put his hands in his pockets. “Okay, that wasn’t fair.”

“It was cowardly.”

You saw the effect those words had on him. You didn’t care that they cut him to the core. He deserved it after carving your heart out and crushing it without a care.  

“Did you think you could leave, walk around in whatever yesteryear with Peggy Carter for ten months, change your mind, and just come back and think I’d be waiting and ready to welcome you back into my arms?”

“No,” he took a few steps toward you, looking back into your eyes again, “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and I didn’t walk around in the past for ten months. I wasn’t there a full two days before I was trying to come back. It took time to hunt down the right people and technology, but it wasn’t even a full two months that I saw there before I got out.”

“Wait, so… you were only there for less than two months but you let ten months pass here for your time to reappear here?”

“I know that scientifically I could come right back, but I also knew I left and I didn’t deserve to come back and act like I hadn’t left.”

“No, Steve!” you dropped your head. “This is what was wrong with us before, only I didn’t know it back then because I was too caught up in all the Captain America aura about you. I couldn’t believe someone like you would be with someone like me,” Steve opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up, raised your head back up and kept talking, “but you were even worse. You didn’t think you deserved love or happiness at all. I was stunned by every bit of us getting together, it felt like a stupid modern fairytale in the middle of everything else that was awful. After a while I even started to believe it myself, thought maybe I was good for you even, but not good enough for you to stay in the end, and now you’re telling me you thought you had to do even more time to make up for leaving?”

Steve sighed, and you could feel the waves of ache radiating off him, matching the ache in your own chest.

“You were too good for the failure I thought I was,” he started to explain. “I knew it wasn’t just me who failed in defeating Thanos, but it didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure, and every day I was living a life full of reminders of how much we lost. Until you. I started to build something again after you.”

“Then why did you leave?” the question burst from the part of your heart where everything still felt like scorched earth.

Steve sighed. “In the letter – “

“You get to tell me to my face, Steve Rogers.”

He nodded. “We brought back half the universe, but I still felt like a failure because we lost Tony and Nat. I couldn’t face it. But when I got back there, I couldn’t shake how vile and cheap it was to run away, and the only one I wanted to talk to about it – about fixing the snap, about losing Nat and Tony, about leaving this time for the past, about trying to get back to the future – I only wanted to talk to you.”

He took another step toward you, but you took a half a step back.

“That was a good speech,” you said, “but Steve…”

Your shoulders softened, and he stepped forward again. He tentatively reached out, took your hand, and you looked down at them.

“It can’t be just a good speech,” he said. “I need it to be the best speech of my life.”

You couldn’t hold back the overwhelming battle of emotions anymore, and tears started falling down your cheeks. You heart yearned to let him right back in, and yet it also wanted to banish him forever.

His other hand came up to brush some of your quiet tears away with his thumb.

“I hate you so much right now, Steve,” you cried while not being able to resist leaning into the palm of his hand. “I had to.”

“I deserve it, but I want to deserve you at some point. I didn’t expect to come back and be welcomed into your arms, I expected to come back and earn the right to wrap my arms around you again.”

“God damn you, Steve Rogers. I want to tell you yes, but I can’t promise you anything any time soon.”

“I know,” he said, closing the gap between you and pressing his forehead down to yours.

“No,” you whispered, and put a hand on his chest – not to push him away, but to at least hold him from coming any closer. “You might think you know,” you your voice was firm but quiet, “but I don’t think you do. I’m hearing what you’ve said. It means everything that you said you’ve come back for me, but the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with still smashed my heart and left me alone for almost a year.”

Steve didn’t say anything immediately, only continued to stroke his thumb over your cheek, hold your hand, and keep his forehead pressed against yours for a few minutes. Everything still hurt, but it was a balm for the moment.

Finally, he spoke. “Unless you tell me to go, I’m never leaving again. You’re my end game, as long as you need, whatever it takes. I will wait – patiently, but with no pressure and no expectations.”

Then you let the silence fill the space between you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And I love you.”

“For now, just kiss me once.”

He did not hesitate, capturing your lips in the kiss he’d been desperate to have for far too long and not knowing when he would get to kiss you again.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[42donotpanic]

Bitten (for your blood)

Summary: Clint is hungry. But maybe biting his own Personal Dragon isn't the best idea...

Pairing: Clint Barton x Kai Krüger (ONBC) x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1343

Raiting: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon/Werewolf/Vampire Relationship, POV Original Character, Vampire Clint Barton, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Biting, Minor Injuries, Blood Drinking

Written for:

@tropetember : Day 14 - Monstrous / Cultural Differences / Language Barrier

@augustwritingchallenge : Trick-AU-Treat - Bitten

@comfy-vember : Day 3 - Forehead Kisses

@ao3tagbingo : Polyamory

@buckybarnesbingo : Interspecies

@fandom-free-bingo:

Obedience Training - Frosty Edition

Bite - Flight Edition

* Secret Signals, Hunting - Valentines Edition

* "I'm going to kill you.", White Fang - Book Night Edition

* Bite Marks - Wild Edition

* "In Some Cultures That's Considered a Dick Move.", "I told you not to do this!", Licking Lips - Maritime May

* Playful Growls - Pride Edition!

* Bite Marks - Plural Edition

* "You had no right to take it.", Unwillingly Donated - August Chaos Discards

* "Why Didn't You Tell Me?" - Bug Edition

* Bite Marks, "Just... Don't.", Growling - Medical Edition

@fairytalebingo - Dragon Fire

@anyfandomaubingo - Vampire AU

@multifandom-flash

The Undead - Clint Barton Bingo

Short Story - National Writing Day

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Dracophilia

@seasonaldelightsbingo - drawing circles with their fingers on the others skin to calm them down - Under the Sea Edition

@fandombingo - It wasn't this bad before.", Stained with Blood - Wonderland Edition