#bucky is a fretful wife

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

Not a whole scene playing out in my head of Bucky and Sam arguing over the helmet. Sam coming out all dressed and ready to go save the world, and Bucky being like:

"There's a helmet in that box from Wakanda. I distinctly remember there being a helmet in that box."

"There wasn't a helmet in the box. You weren't even in Wakanda when they packed the box. Don't at me right now..."

"Sam, I designed the helmet. I know there's a helmet."

"Of course you did."

"You gotta wear the helmet. You gotta protect that pretty head. That pretty face. That pretty brain."

"That pretty brain? I can't take you seriously right now. Don't you have your own assignment to get to?"

"Not until you put on your helmet. How'm I supposed to concentrate when you're out there flying around without a helmet? Come on now."

"Look, I'm not wearing the helmet. It's bulky. And heavy. And, it just doesn't go with my whole vibe..."

Very long story short, Bucky is sulky and fretful and whiny, and Sam wears the helmet because his husband is a brat and it simply isn't worth the argument and pouting he will have to deal with when he gets home from saving the world. You gotta compromise in a marriage, and you gotta pick your battles, after all.

[ultralightpoe]

Sticky - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Yeah the fandom is EATING with this song and that trailer so I figured I might as well feed into my own obsessions. -Ultralight

Song Inspo - Sticky from Tyler The Creator

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Fighting, reference to smexy times

Requests: OPEN [working on the first round now]

MAIN MASTER LIST

[Thank you for the gif @unearthlydust ]

Enjoy!

It’s the bitter laugh that no one wants to hear, that’s the moment when the realization begins setting in. The chill down his spine, locking in the fear as the cold sweat begins to form, knuckles tightening around his glass of whiskey. 

The room wasn’t cold, with the fire crackling just a few feet away, so there wasn’t really a reason for him to be shivering. But that cold embrace of fear was wrapping Declan Morarie like a blanket. He was a man coming to the realization he was about to die. 

It was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, sat at the end of the long table she hadn’t been invited to, in a home she hadn’t been welcome in but still sat in nevertheless. In the beginning of Declans career he always wondered how people remembered her full name, but watching the women now he understood. She was completely untouchable. 

“Oh come on now,” She teases, clapping her hands together in excitement as that same bitter laugh passes her lips. “I’m excited for the show.” 

“You think this is funny?” He bites out.

“Well from my seat I think it’s pretty great. I, however, would never want to be the one getting hunted down by Bucky Barnes and his fucking wife.” She chuckles, pulling a piece of lint off her dress. 

“And how….” He has to take a breath in to compose himself, slamming the glass on the table before him. “How did they get to me?”

“You tortured her for years, your very own project….. Well her and 20 others. Honestly it was only a matter of time before they tracked you down.” She explains, standing up and walking herself to the bartop. 

“And you didn’t happen to put my name in their ear?”

“Barnes will be my problem….. On another day.” She nods, pouring herself a shot and turning to him to cheers before downing it. “But today, he’s yours.” 

She slams the glass down until it splatters across the entire floor, her heels crunching into it as she waltzes to grab her coat. “I do apologize old friend, and I am….. Hopeful? Yes, that seems like a decent word, I’m hopeful you will succeed surviving.”

“I will.” He sneers, but even the words fall flat.

“Oh I’m sure you will.” She laughs, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Though I do hear things get a bit sticky when those two decide they want someone dead.”

- 

“Who would have thought that this… hunting down the bad guys of the world could be soooo… hmmm.” You tilt your chin up in a quiet contemplation as your husband frets over your suit. He busies himself with checking all the safety measures you both had designed for the suits when you decided they would be worn again. 

“Tiring.”

“Cathartic,” You hum back, sliding your hands down to snatch onto his own and bring them up so he can stop fretting. “You’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You are.” You argue, kissing the knuckles of his metal hand before doing the same to his flesh hand. “You didn’t get much sleep and now you’re tired and grumpy. I don’t like when you do this grumpy.”

“No more with the word grumpy. You have overused it.” He huffs, leaning to kiss your forehead. 

“Fine, ill-tempered.”

“Hardly,”

“Testy.” 

“Not even close.”

“Crotchety.”

“Really? We’re going that far?”

“Hmmmm. Waspish. How about that?”

“I….. will allow it if it means we can just get this over with.” He kisses around your face, using his metal hand to tilt your face for easier access while you fight off a smile and push him back. 

“You know what to do.”

“Straight to business then.” And though he turns his back to you he keeps you close while using the tech pad to monitor the halls of the building you both were about to enter. 

“He doubled up on guards. Someone warned him.” He analyzes, shifting a bit to show you the footage. “Valentina.”

“Hmmm.” You choose not to actually respond, allowing your husband to work through his own anger and suspicion while you watch the guards to begin learning the patterns. 

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” You defend, passing the tech back. “But I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself. That is a hunt for another day.” 

“You ready?”

“Of course.” And it’s easy, the way you two fall to the plan so naturally, having worked together for years now. He lets you pass by him, his flesh hand catching a strand of your hair as you strut past, casting him one more glance before disappearing to find your entrance. 

Once you are at your mark you place the comm in, tapping it twice to make sure it works as you begin slicing the door with the silent laser. 

“Placed?” Bucky asks after a moment, meaning he had made it to his own mark. 

“You know it.” You mutter, pushing the door open in the small place you had cut before easily sliding in, your feet near silent on the ground as you watch the hall and begin trekking through. 

Moving like a shadow should never have been this easy, and yet it was, all thanks to the man you were here to kill. 

“будь в безопасности.” He mutters in your ear, his voice a soft caress in the first moment you hear steps approaching. ‘Be Safe’, his favorite thing to say since he knew you didn’t need luck. 

“être en sécurité,” You repeat his saying back to him, this time in french just to bother him since he could never speak it fluently. 

And then you finally meet the person walking closer, but before he can even prepare himself you are already sliding across the floor to kick out his legs before you swipe the overly large gun from his hip and knock him out with it, sliding on your knees to face forward with the stolen gun and raise yourself back to your feet. 

Each movement is a simple glide, one in front of the other as you trace the hall for movement. The plan was simple, meet in the middle and make your way up. You just had to shut down all the exits first. 

You started with the elevators, opening the first and shooting the controls until the light within it flickers and marking it useless and moving to the second one. When the doors slide open a guard moves to rush out, and you use his outstretched arm to heft him over your shoulder until you are throwing him to the floor and twisting until you hear a snap. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, kicking him away as you hear Bucky grunt within the comms as he finds his own issues. You mimic the movements you had used on the other elevator before rushing to the front entrance and using their own night time security gates against them. Locking anyone from leaving and keeping anyone from entering. 

And now that you were finished with that you began you started your way to meet your husband. 

It only took 15 minutes and by the time you do find him he’s leaning on the wall like nothing else mattered, tilting his metal hand under the light above him to admire the etching done for your wedding. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” You murmur, your tone seductive as you lean next to him. “What’s a place like this doing in a guy like you? …….Wait, don’t I have that backward?” 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m sure we’ll find a lot of things backwards.”

“Oh,” You blink, staring at him. “I honestly can’t tell if that was sexual or a threat.”

“Then why can I practically hear your heart beating through your chest?”

“I never said I wouldn’t like it as either.” You huff, turning on your toes and signaling him to follow you. “You’re very beguiling.”

“Another big word. Should I be worried?”

“You got me the dictionary. Which I was slightly offended by.” You huff, twisting your body up the stairs as you see a figure in the corner of your vision, working with grace to pull him down and over the railing. “Stop flirting with me Barnes.”

“You stop flirting with me, Barnes.” He snaps back, making sure that guard stays down before using his gun and following you as back up. “Almost there.”

“Noted.” You murmur, shooting the tech pad to enter the door from the stairwell. The second the door swings open there are guards swarming you both, but it is lightwork when you both work together. 

The man that went to punch you met Bucky's metal fist before he could even make contact, the knife that almost hits Bucky’s mid section is easily lost the second you kick the wrist holding it. Like a bloody tango, every motion has a repercussion. 

“Любовь [love],” You huff, spinning to take out two men while facing Bucky. He reads your idea the second you make eye contact, allowing you to use his thigh as a stepping stool and throw one leg over his shoulder. 

He shoots the men in front of you both as he makes his way down the hall, you taking out the men coming up to flank you. 

By the time you reach the double doors holding the enemy within,  you swing off his shoulder with ease before an unknown figure rushes you both. 

You are thrown back, back meeting the floor as you slide while Bucky is thrown into the wall. 

“What the…..” He starts. 

“Fuck.” You finish, upon seeing who just hit you both. 

He was tall, with red eyes and a sneer on his face, yet another over drugged super soldier. 

Bucky is the first to regain himself, standing quickly and pushing himself into the soldier to knock the weight off and send him down. Only he pushes back, both men stuck in the hold, so you launch up. 

Your hands hit your husbands shoulders and you vault over him to lock your thighs around the neck of the soldier and twisting your body to send him flying back with you. 

Unlike you, however, he doesn’t manage to catch himself and falls on his back. Bucky is there, foot on his neck as you pull the gun and finish him off before moving to kick in the door and find Declan Morarie.

He doesn’t say anything, merely turning to the door with a bottle in hand as he staggers for balance. 

“Fuck.” 

“Fuck.” Bucky mocks, giving you a look before you both rush at him. 

-

“I think you need to go to bed.” You huff, watching your husband pull out the paperwork the second you both got home, after dropping your duffel bags by the doors. “No work.”

“I need to review her bills, she’s hiding something in plain sight-” His conspiracy theories about Valentina were interrupted by you slipping your shirt off and throwing it at him. 

“A hunt for another day then.” He amends, following you into the bedroom as quickly as he can.

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 31: Breeding Kink

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets excited by the thought of becoming a father after your honeymoon.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, creampie, daddy kink™️, a teeny tiny bit of angst/self doubt at the start, reader potentially already being pregnant, lots of soft feelings and pure love

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: we are finally at the end of our honeymoon journey 🥹 thank you to everyone who has read any part of this series throughout the past month. I put so much love and effort into this and I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Bucky hands you a glass of your favourite wine, sitting down beside you and placing a protective hand on your thigh.

“To the last night of our honeymoon.” He toasts simply. But he doesn’t need to add anything else - all other praises, different forms of ‘I love you’, and terms of endearment have already been declared to you during the past four weeks.

You didn’t think it was possible, but after the last month, you feel even more loved by Bucky than ever before.

“And to every night of the rest of our lives.” You add before clinking your glass against his. He swirls the liquid around the glass, sniffing the rich scent before taking a substantial sip. Instead, you specifically chose to place your glass down without tasting the wine.

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” He chuckles in that way where you can’t help but smile at the sound. “No wine tonight? Do you want something else?”

You shake your head playfully, the news you need to disclose dry on the tip of your tongue, but the sparkling adoration in Bucky’s eyes is what gives you the surge of courage to speak the words aloud.

“I’m late.” You announce and you can see the realisation play out in Bucky’s eyes as to the implication of what you’ve just disclosed. “It’s only a few days, it could be anything really - the stress of the wedding, the travel… but it’s probably best to be cautious considering how many times you’ve cum in me over the last month.”

“You think you’re pregnant?” His voice sounds breathless and his strong jaw hangs open, as if in pure shock.

“It’s a possibility...” You trail off, unsure if his reaction is due to certifiable happiness or complete dread. Fear sinks in your stomach like lead - he’s the king of a mafia empire, danger lurks around every corner, and has a long list of enemies who would want nothing more than to murder his entire family in cold blood for revenge.

How could you be so stupid to believe he’d be enthusiastic about bringing a child into that environment?

“Did you not want to be a dad?” Your voice comes out weak, almost trembling, and you can see the concern rise in Bucky’s eyes in the time it takes you to blink. His hands cup your face, tender and loving, as he rests his forehead against yours and looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists in his entire universe.

“You are the love of my life, and there is nothing I want more than for us to create a life from that love. The thought of having a little one who is half me, half the woman I love most in the world… that joy is indescribable.”

Bucky once told you that he could not bear to be the source of your pain, that for him hurting you was akin to torturing himself. He has that same wounded look in his eye right now, as if the mere thought of you fretting about his reaction makes his heart crumble into a thousand pieces.

You kiss him this time, as if you are struggling to breathe and his lips are the only source of oxygen, a desperation to convey he will always be the life force that sustains your existence.

With his strapping hands grabbing into your hips, Bucky lifts you from the couch and walks you backwards towards your bedroom expertly while his tongue dances with yours.

In a haze of passion and lust, Bucky strips the clothes off your body, lips following the soft touch of his hands as garnets get tossed around the room. As the air caresses your bare skin, he gently pulls you closer, eyes roaming your body with a fierce thirst that somehow outshines his usual desire at seeing you naked for him.

Your head is almost dizzy from his intoxicating kiss by the time you’re bare for him and he’s laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing patterns over your stomach as he whispers words of devotion against your soft skin. He doesn’t need to speak them any louder, his whole world is encapsulated in the person laid unclothed and dripping before him.

Rubbing his bulbous tip on your clit, Bucky slowly pushes inside you and then pulls out, slapping your clit again, performing the action over and over until the needy ache between your thighs is almost unbearable. Jolts of pleasure fire up your spine and wet arousal streams out of you as you arch your back and cup both of your breasts, fingers flicking over your hardening nipples.

“Daddy, please.” The name slips from your lips before you have the time or mental consciousness to stop it, but Bucky simply smirks in response, satisfied with just how desperate you are for him, and only him.

“Daddy’s going to give you everything darling, just lay back and relax.” He teasingly draws figure eights with the tip of his dick against your clit, capturing your pert nipple in mouth, tongue circling your tender areola, the combination of his stimulation forging a ardent whine from the back of your throat.

Then, without any notice, Bucky pushes himself into you slowly, lovingly.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so tight. You were made for me, just for me.” He growls in your ear when he’s finally fully sheathed within you.

You let your hands drift over the contours of Bucky’s muscular back, drawing him even closer against you as he buries his face in your neck as his hips begin rocking into yours. Having him hold your upper body with such gentleness all the while having his hips rail you into the mattress feels both exquisitely intimate and downright pornographic.

You’re unsure how Bucky manages to be both concurrently, but he always finds a way.

“Sounds like that feels so fucking good for you, baby. Fucking squelching for daddy.” He’s not wrong, the salacious squelch of your walls fills the room along with your lustful moans with every unrelenting, impaling thrust of his cock.

His pelvis rhythmically meets your ass as he lifts your hips, taking you by surprise and pushing your legs back into your body, testing the bounds of your flexibility. From this angle he can’t help but graze your spongy g-spot with each thrust, over and over and over again. You cry out in pleasure, too overwhelmed by the sensations undulating within you, one moment it’s all too much, the next not enough, to realise your fingernails are digging sharply into Bucky’s biceps.

At this point in your relationship Bucky knows your body better than you do, before you have time to recognise that you’re right at the precipice of a fast approaching orgasm, his nimble fingers locate your throbbing clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in that way that makes a wanton sob bubble up in your throat.

“Look at me baby - keep your eyes on daddy when he makes you cum.” Those dazzling steel blue eyes are your downfall, those same sparkling eyes which have always regarded you with an unparalleled desire and reverence, even from the very first time you met. Those beautifully unique eyes you have memorised the patterns of, committed to memory where each fleck of gold resides and how they seem to shine brighter when you’re the object of his gaze. Those same sincere eyes that filled with tears as he watched you say ‘I do’ and feasted on your body in your white wedding gown until he zipped it off you on your wedding night.

Your high hits you with a magnitude that shakes your entire body, eyes rolling back and has your toes curling. The rest of the world crumbles around you, the only thing your brain can comprehend in this life shattering moment is that Bucky is mercilessly pounding into you, pushing you through a climax that feels like a million shooting stars all exploding at once.

Bucky stills as you tremble around him, coming down from your high with sweat on your brow and a dazed look in your eyes that he can’t seem to get enough of.

His kiss is soft and sweet, but completely life ruining all the same. It takes you back to the first kiss you ever shared, how much outpouring of love you felt when his lips touched yours and you knew for certain you wouldn’t kiss anyone but him ever again.

Bucky’s hips start moving again, slowly at first, building a sensual rhythm of deep strokes which has you biting into his shoulder to prevent yourself from moaning obscenities. You can’t tell where he stops and you begin, your bodies moving together in the heat of passion, euphoria covering you both like a blanket of pure, warm sunshine.

“Gonna breed you.” He growls in your ear with that inflection in his tone where you can tell he’s just as close as you are to coming undone. “Gonna give you a baby. Our baby.”

His words satisfy some primal part of your brain that’s in control now, you swing your legs around Bucky’s waist so he stays exactly where you want him when he cums. His arms frame your head and he gazes down at you as if he’s trusting you to hold his fragile heart in the palm of your hand.

“Give it to me. Please daddy, please give me all your cum.” Your fingernails scratch down his back as Bucky’s cock grazes over the spongy spot on the inside of your walls which makes you see stars. “Put a baby in me.”

Your words only spur him on, thrusts growing sloppy, faltering slightly with a guttural groan reverberating from his chest that is the beginning of the end for you, the pebble which breaks the dam, your release flooding through you in crashing, torrential waves.

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m cumming!” You announce and through his panting, Bucky lets out a satisfied hum as you walls clench down around him, triggering his own release right alongside yours. You swear you’ve ascended to heaven, floating on a cloud of pure bliss as the ecstasy of your high radiates like a rising sun within your core.

Bucky stays hovering above you as you both catch your breath, whimsical smiles tickling the sides of your mouths as you simply gaze at each other, the only thought running through your mind being how fucking lucky you are to have someone who loves you like Bucky does, someone who will always put your wants and needs before their own because ensuring your happiness is their happiness.

“Can’t let any go to waste.” Bucky comments as he pulls out of you, fingering his release back inside you so that none spills out, flicking your puffy and sensitive clit as he does so, sending jolts firing up your spine that makes you squirm.

“Well, if you weren’t pregnant before, you’re likely to be now.” Bucky chuckles lightly, his hand brushing lovingly over your stomach as he lays beside you. “And if not, then we’ll just keep trying. We are pretty good at the act of baby making.”

“We certainly are.” You turn your head and capture his swollen lips in a raw, delicate kiss that can convey more meaning than mere words can. “I can’t wait to go back home and spend the rest of our lives together, maybe with some little feet pattering on the hardwood floors too.”

You know Bucky well enough by now to recognise the genuinely content and blissful smile spreading over his features. You crave for him to look at you like this for the remainder of your life, for him to feel so full of adoration for you that he simply cannot be anything other than blissfully happy in your presence. If he loves you even half as much as you love him, you’re positive your love story will be one for the history books.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” He places a kiss to your hairline, and pulls you closer in his embrace where you always feel at home. You’ve never felt as loved and cherished as you do in this moment right here, with your darling husband who you know would go to the ends of the world to ensure you and your possible future child are safe.

“Not as much as I love you.” There’s a sparkle in his ocean coloured eyes as you say these words, a depth of devotion you could drown in.

“That’s impossible.”

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[darsynia]

There’s so little…everything.

Oh that hurts! You're so very good at setting up the mysteries here, it's aching in all the best ways, especially when it's from Steve's PoV. I particularly like the way you don't just illustrate how sad, empty, and confusing the clues are left behind (with no indication for we as readers which parts matter), but also Steve's physical discomfort as he seeks answers. I get the sense that he'd be in less distress if anything made sense, but not in a malicious way on Reader's part. Just that, the less he finds out, the more his unhappiness about the mystery and pain from the fight manifest themselves

Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

Fuckkkkkk

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

me rn

Those pyramid lines, girl... turn your back on us and write novels, jesus fuck! I mean, don't, or do both, but MY GOD Once again, I have to point out how Agatha Christie you are with your modicum of words that say SO MUCH. You've got the Soldier looking at things and it conveys so much, both in his muted mental intent and in Reader's immediate need to smooth over the assumptions and I just...

YOU GUYS SHOULD READ THIS FIC DON'T JUST SCROLL PAST MY REVIEW CLICK ON IT OK? SHE DIDN'T PAY ME TO SAY THIS

oh you [redacted], you gave Avani a wife for us to fret over him being humanized, I'm calling the FBI you need to be locked up

The action in this is superb! You don't hand-feed the moments to us, you trust us to understand what's going on, and that makes our brains dart to the next conclusion you've laid out, racing ahead along with Steve. Excellent, so good, gosh.

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

This is what good fanfic looks like, it takes our love for the source material and scatters it into new adventures in a way that makes us all the Leo Pointing meme! You've aligned us with Winter Soldier Steve once again desperately racing to get ahead of the curve.

I love how, throughout the story we know Avani was super shitty, but it's only after he's (spoiler) that you reveal to us exactly the breadth of his depravity. God, I wanted him to suffer more.

This is SOOOOO MCU, all of it, I am so delighted.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Cracking UP, all of this was great but what a capper, no pun intended! You are a goddess 💚💚💚💚! This is a mini episode of an MCU show they'll never make, the utter fools! Understatement:

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle. 

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties.  For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor 

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank  canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out. 

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

[idy-ll-ique]

baby names

pairing: loki x pregnant!f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none, it's very cute 😩

requested: nope

word count: ~1.6k

summary: y/n is pregnant and loki can't stay away from her

author's note: hiya peeps! a loki fic after such a long time, kinda got tired of writing bucky fics all the time,,,, (though next week there's gonna be a bucky x f!reader 👀) enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Loki."

"Don't call me that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at her husband and he grumbled angrily, pulling her closer to him. "Sweetheart," Y/N began, "You should go." Loki whined childishly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he firmly mumbled Y/N sighed, running her hand through his silky soft hair. "6th time. Yet they always invite you. Why aren't you leaving the house?"

"Because you're pregnant! I'm not going anywhere until the baby is safely out of you and you both are well taken care of." Y/N smiled softly at his concern but pulled away from Loki. "Well I think you need some sun, you should go. And no is not an option. You know what? I'm calling Tony right now and telling him you are going with all of them." Before Loki could object, Y/N picked up her phone and called Tony.

Loki had been invited by Thor and the other male Avengers on a weekend trip to the beach, sponsored by Tony Stark. Everyone was going; Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Scott, Sam, Bucky, Vision… they'd also invited Loki, since he had now permanently settled on Midgard with his lovely wife Y/N, but he'd initially refused because he didn't want to leave Y/N alone.

She was 8½ months pregnant. Though there was still a week or two of estimated time remaining for the birth, Loki didn't want to leave because what if the baby came early? Tony, Clint and Scott, who were also fathers, had assured him several times since Y/N's pregnancy announcement that the baby would be okay, Y/N would be okay but he still worried himself sick everyday.

"Do I absolutely have to go?" Loki groaned, lying flat on his back on the bed as Y/N sat back down after her chat with Tony. "Yes. I need some time alone— you need some time alone. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack one day by how much you worry over this baby of ours. A nice trip to the beach with clear skies and golden sand and the blue sea will do you much good."

Loki sulked. Y/N, getting a teasing smirk on her face, nudged his shoulder. "Hey, there are gonna be girls in skimpy bikinis on the beach, you know," she suggested and Loki made a face, pulling Y/N down to give her a deep kiss. "I love you," he glared at her, "I don't care about those scantily dressed women. Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll go."

"Yay! Now I can call Wanda and Nat and Sharon and Pepper and Maria and Darcy over so we can have our own day out! It's gonna be awesome," Y/N squealed, already busy texting as Loki sputtered.

Is that why she wants me out of the house that bad?

He couldn't blame her, though, the pregnancy had taken a toll on both the parents. Y/N used to be in pain all the time, had severe nausea and couldn't go out with all her friends like she used to. Now that the symptoms had started wearing off, he really couldn't blame her for wanting to have a nice day out with friends. "Have fun, darling," he smiled, giving her another kiss.

---

"Yo, Lokes, you ready to go?" Clint called out cheerfully as Loki walked towards the group of men, a scowl on his face. Yes, at home he'd agreed to accompany them on the trip but now that the day was actually here… "Not really but I don't have a choice," he grumbled and Steve smiled amusedly. "Y/N kick you out?" Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, how did you know? She wants to have a girl's day out with the other ladies."

"I overheard Wanda and Natasha talking. Anyway, come on, let's hit the road!"

All of them got into two cars: Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Loki in one while Clint, Scott, Tony, Bruce and Vision got into the other. Sam was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat, Bucky was in the middle seat and Thor and Loki were in the extreme back. "So, how's Y/N doing?" Bucky asked Loki, leaning back on his seat.

"She's doing well, the nausea and pain has stopped," Loki answered, following Bucky's lead. "I'm glad to hear it. Have you decided on a name? Because I assure you, Bucky is a really good contender," he grinned cheekily and even Loki laughed, shaking his head. "We haven't thought of any names as of yet."

"Are you looking for a Midgardian name or an Asgardian one?" Sam piped up. Loki blinked. "You know, that is a really good question," he muttered. "How about a Midgardian first name and an Asgardian middle name?" Steve suggested. "Why not the other way around?" Thor frowned. "Well, yeah, that works too," Steve shrugged. "Hm, that's a good suggestion. I will talk to Y/N."

"So is Bucky on the table—"

"No."

"Aw, man."

---

"Hey girl, after a long time!" Natasha grinned, giving Y/N a familial hug. "Hi, gals! Yes, I even got Loki to leave, took a lot of begging but he finally agreed," she sighed. "Could've just given him head or something," Pepper muttered and Y/N burst out laughing as the other ladies gasped. "Pepper!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

"What? It usually works on Tony," Pepper defended herself as everyone joined Y/N in her laughter. "So, ready to shop?" All the ladies got into a 7-seater car, with Maria in the driver's seat. "Can't wait! This Avenging stuff doesn't give me time for self-care, I swear. Haven't shopped in ages!" Wanda sighed. All the women agreed with her, muttering their yesses.

"By the way, Y/N, I've wanted to ask you this for so long now, have you decided on baby names yet?" Darcy questioned with a grin. "Oh! No we haven't as of yet, I have lots of good names but I haven't talked to Loki…" Sharon looked up from her phone. "Do you have Asgardian names or like, normal, Earth names? I have a feeling that Loki would want Asgardian names," she suggested.

Y/N frowned in thought. Sharon was right; both the brothers, Loki and Thor, took great pride in their homeland. She didn't mind, to be honest, Asgardian names were wonderful. "I like Asgardian names too, though, I'm open to it," she chuckled.

"Great! So if it's a girl, Darcy—"

"Darcy!"

"What? I'm just saying…"

---

"Brother?" Loki startled out of his thoughts, turning to Thor. "Sorry, I was… thinking," he cleared his throat and Thor smiled, sitting next to him. Around 6 hours had passed since they'd arrived at the resort and Loki couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. What is she doing? Is she okay? Should I go check on her? What if the baby is coming? Surely she'd call me if that happens…

"About Y/N?" Loki went red and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah." Thor clapped him on the back once, guffawing good-naturedly. "Don't you fret, brother, the ladies she is with are extremely competent! She will be okay, and plus, the baby isn't going to be here for another week or so," Thor assured him but worry gnawed Loki. Nope, I can't do it. He abruptly stood up, startling Thor.

"I'm going home."

"Loki—"

Just a second later, Loki disappeared.

---

"Mm," Y/N moaned, a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, "Isn't it delicious? What do ya say… Rosie?" The baby kicked once. "No? Okay, well… Sarah? Petunia?" The baby kicked more. "Oh, you want masculine names, huh… Uh, Alex?" One kick. "I know, Chris!" Another kick. "Tom?" More kicks. "So you don't want Midgardian names? Well, I don't know very many Asgardian names…"

"I do."

Y/N shrieked loudly, dropping her tub of ice cream as she turned to see Loki standing near the bedroom door. "Loki?" She picked a book off the nightstand and threw it at him. He caught it easily, sitting down next to her while keeping the book where it was. She instantly cuddled into his side, tearing up. Sure, she was the one who was too eager to send him away but she was also the one who couldn't stay away from him.

"Aw, hey, I'm here, my love," Loki whispered comfortingly, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his arms. "Don't go again. I missed you," she sniffled and Loki pressed a soft kiss to her head. "That is also why I came home early, darling, I missed you too," he laughed and she snuggled even closer to him.

"Little baby Axelia missed you too— ow! No? So… what about Lucinda? Ow, ooh… Priscilla? No?" Loki watched with an infatuated smile as she tried out different names on the baby. "What if our baby wants a more masculine name, love?" he asked and she turned to him.

"Hm, have you got any names in mind?"

"Well, Barnes was suggesting we name our child Bucky—"

"Ow! Nope, they don't like it."

"Oh well. He's going to be disappointed but what the baby says goes," Loki teased and Y/N burst out laughing. She stopped all of a sudden, giving Loki a small smile. "Please don't go anywhere again," she whispered and Loki shook his head, gathering her in his arms. "I missed you just as much as you did me, Y/N, I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, min kjæreste."

"...That's Norwegian, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, though, isn't it?

"Yes, very."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[babbushka]

Hello from a cold and cloudy London Town 😚 In an effort to feel more cuddly, what about either Flip or Clyde finding their girl fast asleep on the couch or bed and tucking her up in a little flannel blanket to keep her nice and warm? With heart eyes all the way of course! Those boys are so soft 😍💙

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in my dear London anon! I hope that you like this little blurb that I've written :)

It was an unspoken rule, in the Zimmerman household, that you stayed awake for Flip until he came home. Flip wasn’t so sure when exactly that had started, but he had come to look forward to it -- no matter what time of day or night, he could be sure that his wife’s arms would be waiting wide open for him to press himself into.

Which is why it’s a surprise, that he comes home early on an autumn afternoon, to find you sound asleep on the sofa in the sunroom.

Flip frowns when he sees you there, curled up on the little throw pillow, those arms of yours tucked around it, hugging it close as if it were your man. He stands there, in the doorway, frozen as to not disturb you, and his heart melts at the way you’re wearing one of his shirts.

Realistically, he knew that you’re just taking a sun nap like you often do; you hadn’t been expecting him to come home so early, especially on a Monday of all days, when the paperwork that got put off on Friday usually caught up to bite Flip in the ass. He knows that if you had been expecting him, there would be music playing, the windows would be open, the smell of something delicious would be coming from the kitchen.

None of that’s the case now, with you snuggled up in the sunroom, trying to salvage the sun that seemed to set earlier and earlier these days. You don’t have a blanket on your body, but you are dressed in a little lounge-around-the-house outfit that Flip supposes must have kept you warm enough. But he’s your husband, and he frets over you, so he silently makes his way through the house to get a blanket from the linen closet, and returns to your side to drape it across your form.

Despite his efforts, it’s the growling of Flip’s stomach that wakes you; the loud rumbling that you know all too well has your eyes scrunching together and then blinking awake, looking up at Flip with an adoring expression.

“I was dreaming about you, and here you are.” You whisper, your arms abandoning the throw pillow to instead reach for him, making Flip grin and eagerly slot his body against yours on the sofa.

“Good dreams, I hope?” He kisses your cheeks softly, kisses the tip of your nose, your forehead, your lips -- over and over again, gentle presses of his lips against yours.

“The very best.” You nod in response, stretching out your limbs and sighing, chuckling to yourself. “You were hungry in my dream.”

“Life imitates art.” Flip blushes deeply, before he too chuckles, happy to have a woman like you, who so often amazes him with your generosity.

In a minute, you’ll push him off of you so that you can get off the soda and arrange a nice lunch in the crisp outdoors, but for now, it’s more than enough to lie there side by side, enjoying one another’s company to the symphony of bird chirps and growling stomachs.

Tagging some Flip loving friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @sweetlyours @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @ohsolonelyghosts @depressedkyloren @pop-rocks-and-skittles @emi11ie @durangoninetyfive

[7-wonders]

You doing Marvel would just be ugh... *chef's kiss* pure perfection! That being said for the weather prompt, might I be the first to request something? Chamomile tea and Zemo please!

I'm a simple woman, my eyes see the word "Zemo" and I immediately go feral.

Chamomile Tea - The moment they realised they liked their S/O and their reaction

When Helmut Zemo finally got out of prison after seven long years, he definitely was not looking for any sort of a relationship. No, he wanted to finish what he had started and destroy the rest of that godforsaken super soldier serum, part ways with James and Sam and live out the rest of his days in one of his many houses that sit vacant around the world.

You were a surprise addition to this little team that had busted him out of prison. A run-in with an infinity stone when you were a child left you with clairvoyant abilities, and though you were never technically part of the Avengers, you often worked for them or with them. Though you weren't too happy to be dragged along, you knew that there was a good reason why your friends had requested your help. After all, one touch of a person that knows who's making the super soldier serum, or a brush of the shoulder against somebody working with the Flag Smashers, and you would have all of the answers that you needed in the palm of your hand.

It definitely was not love at first sight, or even attraction at first sight. Zemo was certainly intrigued by your powers, especially since you hadn't been on his radar during his planning of the Vienna bombing. Plus, he could see the distrustful way you looked at him, unconsciously putting yourself between him and James to make sure that no harm would come to the man you and the Falcon so fondly referred to as Bucky.

You had certainly proved yourself to him during the recon trip to Madripoor. There was no hesitation on your face as you 'flirted' with Selby while posing as an arms dealer attempting to sell your product, the Winter Soldier. You had coquettishly touched her shoulder, pretending to play hard-to-get after that crucial contact gave you all of the information that you needed. When you proceeded to shoot your way out of the bounty hunters that came for you after Selby was killed, he found himself certifiably impressed.

It wasn't until Riga, however, that Zemo first started to feel an odd stirring in his heart. The time that he spent with everybody in the group had exponentially increased as the days of tracking the Flag Smashers dragged on, but you were the only one willing to give him a second chance. You were happy to debate theories with him, thankful for the tea and treats that he constantly offered (for the Baron was nothing if not a good host), and patient whenever he asked to learn more about your powers. When he set out to try and charm the local children into giving up the information for Donya Madoni's funeral, and you were already playing with the kids and entertaining them long before he could dump some candy on the table, he felt an attraction that he thought he would never feel again after the death of his wife.

After John Walker nailed him in the side of the head with a vibranium shield, while Sam and Bucky went off to find more information, you had been the one to stay by his side. Fretting and cooing over him, making sure the lights were dim enough, and that he had water with his pain meds instead of alcohol, he realizes that he's extremely attracted to you. He's in too much pain to think about trying any other moves now, but he does slip his hand into yours when you finally settle down onto the chair next to him. He's extremely pleased when you don't pull away, instead tracing circles on his skin with your thumb.

Weather Prompts

[ontheticktick]

@oozeyboozey

Every cell in his body, LITERALLY every cell, felt like it had been SET ON FUCKING F I R E.

If he didn't feel so outright DELUSIONAL by that point, Wade probably would have been WRITHING. Somewhere in his addled mind, he could tell that they had attempted to give him some sort of medication for the pain, but it had surpassed the agony altogether and had simply offered him a HEAD-HIGH. Between that and the definite FEVER that he had started running, all he could register was that he was being lightly SHAKEN and implored to NOT GO ANYWHERE. His eyelids felt hot, like opening his eyes again might leave actual burns, but HE KNEW THAT VOICE. He LOVED that voice. And he knew deep in his heart that he wanted to do ANYTHING that voice said.

So, he pushed beyond the discomfort that it cause him and managed to force his eyes open, as to get a better look at the presence that had been beckoning him. OOOOH. Yeah, he knew who that was, of course he did, that was his WIFE.

His brows furrowed slightly as he looked to Anya and continued to work at preventing another bout of unconsciousness. Wade could comprehend that his body FELT LIKE SHIT, and that Anya looked VERY WORRIED...but didn't quite have the capacity to draw the connection between those two facts just yet.

"Hey...'s fine," he tried to assure her, though his voice sounded weak, while also trying to remember what had been happening before he passed out.

Mostly he just wanted her to FEEL BETTER. In his mind's eye, there were flashes of things that he had watched Anya fret about in the past. Things were just still a little...FOGGY, at best. He once more forced his eyelids open somewhat, eyeing Anya's hand before smiling at them and reaching out with A GOOD PORTION of his entire strength, DETERMINED to hold their hand. Once he reached it, a tired smile tugged at his lips and he seemed a little PROUD of himself.

Then...he was feeling NAUSEATED.

"Oh...fuck..." managed to choke out before using the rest of his energy and strength and turning COMPLETELY AWAY from Anya. Once they were no longer in the SPLASH ZONE, as it were, Wade's stomach contents made a comeback tour on the floor of the quinjet. The sweating he was experiencing was getting worse. Still, he wiped his mouth off with the back of his arm and caught his breath.

There was something SOBERING about how much he had just regurgitated. Perhaps it was the meds leaving his bloodstream, or interacting poorly with him...or maybe he knew deep down what all of these sensations meant, and his mind didn't want to accept it.

IT'S CANCER, YOU DUMB FUCK. IT'S CANCER, YOU DUMB FUCK.

The voices that occupied within his head agreeing WASN'T something that he enjoyed, decidedly. Fear crept in on him and he tried to not yet face Anya completely as his throat felt tight, and it stung.

"I'm okay..." he spoke with a labored breath. "'m fine, everything's...everything's fine, Mamma, promise..."

Thankfully, it wasn't going to be long before they were going to land, and Bucky would be assisting in getting Wade to their home's infirmary while Jamie set up the equipment that he'd need to do the tests required.

as  much  as  she  didn't  like  letting  wade  have  all  the  fun , she  kept  her  distance  this  time.  letting  wade  handle  this.  it  wasn't  like  she  couldn't  hear  just  fine  what  was  being  said , and  instead  just  looked  at  her  wist  impatiently  as  though  she  were  looking  at  a  watch  on  her  wrist.  there  was  a  watch  feature  there , essentially  a  tiny  computer  on  her  wrist.

eat  your  heart  out  fallout.  my  brother  made  me  somethin  more  sleek!

at  this  point , while  she  let  the  boys  finish  their  little  game , she  had  been  thinking  about  food.  more  specifically  the  dinner  that  their  familly  had  all  planned  when  they  got  home.  being  able  to  kick  back  for  a  week  or  two  with  wade  before  another  job  rolled  in  for  them.  their  job  wasn't  the  type  they  talked  about  at  PTA  meetings  or  anything.  but  even  anya  couldn't  give  up  the  perk  of  being  able  to  just  take  a  whole  month  off  of  after  a  job  if  she  wanted  to  spend  with  her  family.

when  wade  was  finally  finished  with  his  fun , and  turned  around  to  face  her , at  first  everything  seemed  fine.  almost.  once  he  started  speaking , and  then  breathing  heavily , like  he  couldn't  seem  to  catch  a  breath , her  brows  pinched  together  in  worry  for  him. this  wasn't  wade's  normal  comedy , and  she  was  only  made  certain  something  had  one  horribly  wrong.

"  wade?  "    she  asked  cautious.  stepping  forward  with  her  hands  ready  for  anything  really.  she  was  confused , but  that  confusion  was  only  being  shown  as  fear  for  what  that  dart  could  have  done  to  him.  even  though  as  of  a  decade  ago ... wade  couldn't  die.    "  wade  it's  november , what's  goin  on?  "

she  took  a  few  more  steps , hoping  she  could  close  the  gap  between  them  before  his  body  gave  out.  she  knew  the  signs  of  someone  about  to  slip  out  of  conciousness , and  wade  was  seconds  away  from  going  down.  too  bad  her  timing  was  just  slightly  off , and  she  hadn't  gotten  to  him  until  his  body  had  already  hit  the  concrete  roof  of  the  building. 

"  shit  shit  shit!  "    she  panicked  as  she  checked  for  his  vitals.  they  were  there.  but  weak.  her  finger  went  to  her  ear  piece  immediately , tapping  into  the  comms  her  dad  and  brother  were  waiting  for  them  on.    "  jamie!  dad!  i  need  air  lift  out  of  here.  wade's ... wade's  down!  "    she  didn't  know  how , but  all  she  could  think  about  was  when  she  woke  up  the  morning  he  left ... and  he  was  gone.  this  couldn't  be  happening.  not  again.

situating  her  arms  under  his  form , she  hoisted  him  up  and  over  her  shoulders  before  staring  for  where  the  quinjet  would  be  able  to  get.  trying  to  make  room  for  when  jamie  and  her  dad  got  there.    "  don't  you  fucking  do  this  to  me  now  you  prick!  "    her  tone  was  angry.  but  she  needed  that  anger  in  order  to  get  her  husband  to  safety , which  luckily  came  in  record  time.  jamie  and  bucky  helped  load  wade  up  into  the  jet , along  with  their  new  hostage  once  they  had  him  secured , and  no  trackers  left  on  him.  normally  she  liked  flying  home  after  a  mission.  finding  being  in  the  cockpit  a  nice  time  to  calm  down  from  the  rush.  this  time  however ... she  wasn't  leaving  where  wade  was.

sitting  right  next  to  him , she  couldn't  help  but  catch  the  small  sound  of  his  voice  when  he  woke  up  for  a  moment.  his  mask  had  been  in  her   hads.  she'd  torn  it  off  of  him  when  she  got  him  to  a  safe  spot  on  the  roof.  whatever  had  happened  to  wade , had  somehow  reversed  the  effect  to  his  physical  appearance.  her  eyes  had  been  staring  at  that  mask.  that  face  of  his  had  become  something  of  a  shield  for  her.  a  way  to  cure  the  scars  that  mephisto  had  left  her.  it  was  only  when  she  was  sitting  there  while  he  slept  that  she  had  realized  how  much  she  had  come  to  rely  on  how  he  mad  her  feel  loved  to  defeat  the  power  mephisto  had.  and  she  wasn't  sure  how  she  thought  about  it.

she  snapped  her  attention  to  wade  when  she  heard  him  speak.  shaking  her  head  and  repositioning  herself  to  jostle  him  back  awake.  or  at  least  try  to.    "  hey.  hey  baby  don't  go  anywhere  okay?  "    anya  was  never  one  for  begging.  but  this  was  one  of  those  times.  her  voice  breaking  at  the  tail  end  of  the  desparate  plea.    "  just  ... please  stay  awake  for  me  okay?  "    repositioned , and  looking  at  him.  it  was  like  looking  at  another  person.  she  knew  him  before  he  ended  up  the  way  he  was.  it  never  mattered  to  her.  but  the  person  wade  was  when  he  looked  like  this  felt  so  far  in  the  past ... it  may  as  well  have  been  another  person. 

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.34

A Little Spell

07/20/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,799

Warnings: smut, language, FLUFF, cute babies, slight angst

A/N: Enjoy! I’ve had fun with this one. As always if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED!

Please do not REPOST my work on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are welcome!

Spring has awoken in Broklin. The sky is blue once more. Small tufts of cotton clouds fly by overhead as you walk with Maggie in your arms. She’s little, only three months, and aging with the peony blossoms in your gardens.

She wears one in her soft hay colored hair, carefully pinned by her Godmother Natasha this morning.

As she gawks at a flying bird, her chubby baby arms stretched out as if to touch it, your mind has a fleeting thought as you think about Nat, as it does every time you think of her.

What is he not telling me?

You remember it like it were only last night, Steve and Sam racing from your bedroom with a scroll crushed in Steve’s right hand.

He’d come back hours later looking tired and worried for only a moment as he walked into the room and then he’d smiled at you as you sat up, your little girl pressed to your breast as she fed.

He’d laid down beside you and kissed Maggie’s little feet just to hear her fuss a little and then laid with his eyes shut. Thinking things that you wanted but couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. Still don’t know.

You’d known better at the time than to ask him what all of his rushing around had been about and instead settled Maggie between the two of you after she’d fed and only after he was asleep had you moved her into her cradle.

Steve had wrapped his arms around you in his sleep as you’d moved closer to him and it had chased away any fretting you’d had at the prospect of more trouble.

Despite the fear that had begun to grow in your mind, your worries seem to be unfounded as nothing has happened to alarm you or, really, anyone in the Kingdom.

“Sister!”

The call shatters your thoughts back to this blissful spring day and you turn to see Morgana moving quickly towards you, one hand holding up her pale green dress. The little vines etched along her collar and sleeves stand out in dark green and earthy brown.

“Morgana, your Majesty.” Peter states, moving towards Morgana and give her a quick bow while she too stops to greet him.

“Hello, Peter!” She smiles, then hurries back to you while Peter leaves you two to wait by the garden entrance.

You inspect your work—her dress—worried about the state of the stitching as she flounces about, but it’s holding up very well.

“Morgana, I thought you were in your lessons until the afternoon?” You chastise, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Maggie gasps in excitement, coos, and kicks her legs so quickly that you have to adjust her dress around her little feet. She’s a vision in pale blue to compliment the rosy pink peony in her hair.

Your own dress a stunning yellow, and a ribbon around your waist to match the color of Maggie’s dress.

With a little one, you have had to learn to keep your hair up or tied back. Grandmother had insisted on a braid this morning. Long with peonies also wound through to match your daughter.

For the most part, you don’t understand the fuss everyone has been making over the two of you looking so coordinated but apparently it is a tradition of the kingdom for a Queen and her child to set an example of “unity” . How exactly clothes show this, you have no idea.

“Hello little Maggie.” Morgana gushes then opens her arms to take her.

Handing your daughter over, you adjust her dress as Morgana gets her comfortable.

“Don’t ignore me, Morgana.” You warn her, with love of course.

“I’m not ignoring you.” She huffs. “I’m merely using my beautiful niece to avoid answering the question.”

You laugh. A confession you had not been expecting.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, still chuckling as the two of you resume your walk through the winding hedges of your now wild garden.

All these flowers once grouped with their own species and rigorously kept apart before were now in a truly wild blend of organized chaos.

“I finished early and the Master asked if I would like to proceed to the next lesson or spend the day on my own…” She begins.

“And naturally you decide that the day is better spent with Maggie and I?”

“Of course!” Morgana smiles, tickling Maggie’s little tummy. “Isn’t that right, Princess?”

“You should have gotten a head start on your lessons.” You reason.

“And miss out on this beautiful day? I don’t think so. Besides, my brother-in-law would like to see you. It looks like a meeting.” Morgana says, knowing that you will know what she means. “He sent me down to fetch you, and to take little Maggie back upstairs for her nap.”

“Has something happened?” You panic, stopping to look at her with wide eyes.

Maybe you were getting too comfortable too soon?

“I don’t know.” She laughs. “Father tells me nothing and mother insists that I stay out of all Avenging business.”

“They’re right, Morgana…I’m so glad that you weren’t anywhere near during the battle.” You worry. “Or Shuri. I’m glad she and her brother had to go back home before anything could happen.”

“They could have helped. The Black Panther is very skilled. And powerful.” Morgana reasons.

“He is.” You nod. “But I would have everyone be safe rather than risk the dangers of the castle that night.”

“You make it sound so terrifying.” She tells you, not realizing that you’d left out a chunk of compelling story when you’d recounted the events of the night.

“It was.” You assure her.

“Sister, even if it was scary, don’t you think that all of the Avengers fought for a reason? They all want to protect you. And my brother-in-law fights for more than just you and Maggie. He fights for the freedom of his kingdom.”

She thinks a moment, and smiles. “But mostly for you. You should see the way he watches you and Maggie. There’s a fear in his expression that I don’t understand. Almost a yearning. Even Nat says that she does not remember him ever looking at anyone so.”

“I don’t want anyone fighting for me, Morgana. I want everyone to be safe.”

There must be something in your eyes as you insist because she nods, understanding.

“Where were they?” You move on, eager to forget the night of Maggie’s birth.

“It’s only Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha.” She informs you, making sure you know it isn’t the entire team. “They’re waiting for you in Steve’s den.”

“Can you manage Margaret?” You wonder, waiting to see what she’ll say.

Morgana rolls her eyes, “Of course, I can! Now go.”

With a bite to your bottom lip you quickly lean in and press a kiss to Maggie’s cheek.

She turns towards you as you pull away. Eyes wide and hands and feet flailing and kicking in excitement.

“I’ll see you shortly my pretty girl.” You coo at her then head towards the castle at a hastened pace.

As you pass the gate you move to Peter’s side with a pleading look.

“Will you stay and watch over her?” You fuss, worried about leaving Morgana alone with Maggie. Not that you don’t trust her, but you’re a little more wary now after so many close calls.

“I-” Peter begins, ready to defy you in favor of protecting you. He’s your personal guard!

“Please, Peter. I need to know that I can trust you to protect her if I cannot be around.” You plead.

Peter watches your expression then glances behind you towards Maggie and Morgana.

“Of course, your Majesty. I will protect them both with my life.” He promises, easing the worries in your heart.

You hurry on, but just as you reach the door you look back at your daughter once more and find Morgana helping her wave her tiny clenched fist as she mouths Bye-bye momma! Peter joining them with a small jog.

As he stops beside them, Morgana’s gaze is diverted, and her cheeks fill with a rosy tint.

You return their small wave and allow your feet to carry you faster through the castle towards Steve’s den.

On the second floor you pass Sharon nestled into a small library with her nose in a book.

You stop, warring with your two halves. The one side of you is eager to greet her and ask her to accompany you to this new meeting that you’ve suddenly been summoned for when you’re so often left in the dark about Avengers matters. You’re grateful to her for saving your life and the life of your little girl.

Then there’s the second half. The wife half. The woman within you that remembers the sight of her nestled in against Steve’s chest. The stern set of her jaw when you staked your claim for him and then the feeble attempt at an apology that so clearly had meant nothing at the time.

Your jealousy is moderate now. It doesn’t rear its head like a starving monster anymore, but it’s still there. You are Steve’s and he belongs to you. You’ve rarely felt the need to make it clear that you belong to each other. When you see Sharon being one of those occasions.

With a quick breath, cut short by a determined huff from your gnawed-on lips, you stifle the urge to claim and instead allow the friendlier side to move you into the room.

“Sharon?”

Sharon blinks, searching for you with wide eyes still dazed by her book.

“Oh,” She smiles, rising as she sets her books aside.

She curtsies as you stop before her, hands placed gently at your front as you try to stand the way Nat has taught you. Regal. Or as close to it as you can manage. You’re still unconvinced that you can pull this royalty business off.

You know you’re Queen and you make no arguments about it, but you’re fairly certain that Sharon—and other women like her, Nat included—will always look more the part of nobility than you do.

“Your Majesty, good morning.” Sharon greets, rising and matching your pose but clearly more relaxed.

“Good morning. I hope you’re well?” You begin, hoping the pleasantries aren’t unwelcomed.

“I’m very well, my lady. Thank you for asking.” She smiles again, a bit softer.

“I was wondering, why aren’t you with the others in Steve’s office?”

“I, my lady?” Sharon asks, genuinely confused as she presses her hand to her chest. The pale silk orange dress is elegant but fitting of the weather. The dark purple roses that flow upwards into a cluster in the pattern draw the eye to her bust, just as her hand does.

“I was sent for by Steve just now.” You explain.

“I-I’ve been in here all morning. All night even. It might be possible that they sent for me, but no one knows where I am. This has always been a good place to hide.” She confesses and her smile widens.

“Well, why don’t you accompany me? Whatever schemes they have you will no doubt be an asset. Indeed, I don’t know why they’ve sent for me. I’m…I couldn’t possibly be of much help.” You shake your head, relaxing a little more with every word you speak.

“I think it likely that his Majesty wants to keep you apprised of the events in the Kingdom.” Sharon ponders. “After what happened at King Anthony’s castle, he’d be a fool to keep you in the dark.”

You hadn’t though of that. Steve is summoning you to keep you informed? He never has before.

Once again, your mind is dragged back to the day of Thor’s visit and Sam’s urgent scroll.

You must have gone into a daze while your mind ran with thoughts because Sharon clears her throat, pulling you from your own ponderings.

“Your Majesty?” She checks, wary.

“Sorry.” You smile again. “I’m sorry. Will you come?”

Gesturing towards the door you take a tentative step as you await her choice.

“Of course!” She exclaims, rushing to open the door fully for you.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please.” She states simply, and you don’t refuse her.

The two of you walk together, Sharon a half step behind you—as she should be with you as Queen—in surprisingly comfortable silence.

When you reach the wing that you and Steve live in, you clear your throat, walking a little slower with his den visible at the end of the hall.

“I’m glad you decided to stay a little longer with us.” You tell her quietly.

“As am I, your Majesty.” She smiles. “Seeing you run the castle and the introductions with the court and the people…I hope Maggie won’t turn in her grave, but you do this job better than she ever did.”

“Oh?” You’re not exactly surprised by her statement. Steve has often told you this himself, but to hear it come from two people who loved Margaret the most and knew her the best really speaks volumes.

“Maggie was always focused on the world. It’s good to see someone care about just this Kingdom. It wasn’t in ruins or anything when she was in rule, but it has truly prospered under your care. And your attentions to its people force Steve to also consider those closer to home.

“There will always be an evil out there for us to fight. I think he used to forget those that depend on him waiting right here.” Sharon ponders, not really asking any questions just making observations.

“You’re too kind.” You smile. “It has truly been my honor to serve. To help.”

“Serve?” She asks, confused.

“Isn’t that what we do? Steve and I?” You think aloud. “We are here to provide a service. That service is indispensable. We provide stability and structure to the lives of everyone in Broklin. We were placed here to not only rule, but to help and to take care of those who need us. We are called to serve our people in the best ways we are able.

“There can be no service more important to perform in all the world.” You shrug, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Sharon huffs a small laugh, not in sarcasm, but surprise.

“What?” You stop, turning to look at her with your hands carefully placed at your front. “What have I said?”

“You truly put us all to shame, your Majesty.” She states, looking into your eyes with a sparkle of sincerity. “There are sovereigns that would say the exact opposite. That it is the duty of the people to serve their King and Queen.”

“And it is.” You agree. “We are a carriage wheel, the people and us. In order for us to carry forward, we all must do our parts. It’s why I chose to marry Steve despite never having known him.

“I love him now, but when I agreed to marry him, I had no idea who he was. My father needed me to be dutiful and I was.” You smile. “We serve the people and they serve us in turn. We cannot have one without the other. Kingdoms fall every day to famine, disease, discontent among the people…one cannot expect to take and take without giving something in return.”

“Yes.” Sharon nods, “I see that now. And I’m sure Steve has seen it too. You’re teaching him well.”

You laugh, finding it silly that you could teach Steve anything that he doesn’t already know.

“Come on, before they grow impatient.”

As the two of you approach the door, you spot Grandmother leaning against the wall just outside the door, her hand on her chest and her eyes shut tight as if she’s struggling with a pain of some kind.

“Your Majesty?” Sharon probes as you slow just outside the door.

“Go on in.” You tell her, “I’ll be right in.”

Sharon nods and joins the others while you approach grandmother, a sudden realization fills you with dread.

Grandmother is old. And as much as you’ve grown used to her care, she will not always be with you.

“Grandmother? Are you alright?” You check, easing closer before placing your hand on her back carefully.

She’s lost so much weight recently that her dresses have begun to fit her loose. You’ll have more made for her.

“Shall I send for a doctor?” You ask, ear growing.

“No.” She says, withered voice shaking with a trembling breath.

“What’s the matter?” You wonder, placing reassuring hands on the sides of her arms.

She looks up at you, her eyes boring into your own and you can see it all in the reflection.

She’s terrified. This old woman, fearless in the face of a full on battle, is scared.

“Will you not confide in me?” You fret.

“No.” She says, eyes narrowed as she considers you and her legs grow stronger. “Not until I see it all.”

You’re confused by her words but try not to dwell on them.

“Let me at least get you a glass of water.” You insist.

“I said no, girl. Get back to your duties and leave me be.” She grumbles and pushes around you, muttering something under her breath as she reaches into one of her hidden pockets and pulls from within it a small vial of glittering powder.

You watch her until she’s out of sight, your mind trying to make sense of what little she said, but you can’t. You never could with Grandmother. Why was she out here to begin with? Had she been part of the meeting up until now?

Inside Steve’s den, you find Natasha sitting on one of the plain seats by his desk, Bucky beside her, arms crossed as he stares at a map spread out across Steve’s desk.

Sam is leaning against the desk, one hand along the edge while he points at a cluster of black iron houses near the corner. Sharon, sits in the chair beside Nat giving the impression that Sam must have given the seat up for her when she entered.

Your husband sits in his large chair behind the desk, his elbow on the wooden arm. His right hand covers his mouth while he taps a finger on the other deep in thought.

All of them turn to look at you as you enter. Sam straightens up, Natasha and Sharon both rise to their feet, and Bucky drops his arms. Steve however is transfixed on the map, eyes blazing with storm clouds as his mind fixates on whatever problem has gathered them all into this room.

“No, please…” You tell the others and they relax, taking up their previous positions.

You edge your way over to Steve and almost on instinct he opens his left arm to greet you beside him, turning his chair before he pulls you into his lap without sparing you a glance.

Normally you might protest the open affection in front of your closest friends but as you sit and he wraps his arm around your waist, there’s a needy weight to his embrace that tells you in this moment he must feel you there with him.

You recognize it and it makes you nervous. Fearful of what is troubling him.

“Is it bad?” You ask, looking only at him.

He takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly but doesn’t utter a word.

“Bucky?” You turn to him and wait as he shakes his head then nods to Sam.

“They’re here.” Sam says, leaning over the map again to point at the same cluster of black iron houses. “In this village. Abandoned long ago. All of the structures are crumbling. Decayed. If they’re not overgrown with vegetation, they’re soggy with mold and moss. Thor says there are at least three dozen soldiers left.”

“Hydra?” You ask, surprised you could find the breath in your body to do so.

“We thought that Captain Danvers had killed Rumlow, but it appears that he escaped before she could finish the job. He’s taken what’s left of their numbers here to regroup and rebuild.” Sam explains.

“Then we go after them.” Sharon says passionately.

“Thor says that rushing in would be reckless.” Bucky says. “They have something there. A weapon unlike any he’s ever seen before. It turns men into mindless slaves with a single touch. It shoots out an energy that he has never seen.

“And there’s no way to guarantee that they would still be there, even if we went now.”

“Where is Thor?” You wonder, looking around as if he might appear form the shadows.

“Searching.” Nat says. “For information on the power they possess.”

“We have to do this carefully. I won’t risk open war. Not with these villages here surrounding them on all three sides and the border on their back. They could slip into the Kingdom to the south and start a war between our kingdoms.” Steve shakes his head. “We’ll take a day, come up with a few strategies. We must move but we must do so correctly.”

“I thought they were gone.” You lament, starting at the cluster of houses.

Your tone finally brings Steve’s gaze to you and he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

“And they are.” He assures you. “This is what’s left of them. They’re weakened and if we do this properly, we might finally be able to eradicate the world of Hydra.”

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Bucky says solemnly drawing everyone’s eye.

Steve is frowning, his hands gripping the fabrics of your dress above your thigh as he considers his childhood friend.

“Then we’ll rip out their hearts.” He declares before immediately stifling the rage that filled his chest. “We need to take that weapon away from them and then we can kill them once and for all. We can’t wait for Thor.”

Nat gets to her feet and Bucky drops his arms. “We should at least give him a week to return before we attack. We need to know what we’re facing.”

Steve considers this, “I’ll give him three days. It’s all we can afford. Any more time and we may as well send them the numbers to withstand us.

“You and Nat take the rest of the day for yourselves, enjoy each other and tomorrow begin recruiting amongst the guard. Anyone skilled in deceit. They should also be able to hold their own against either of you.”

Nat nods and heads for the door. Bucky hesitates but quickly follows his wife out, leaving the door open.

“Sam, ride for Malibia and see if Tony can come back and whether Lord and Lady Lang are still present at his castle.” Sam nods, then leaves too.

“Shall I reach out to Fury?” Sharon wonders, pushing herself to the edge of her seat.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “They’re racing after a separate faction of Hydra supporters. We’ll let them do their work. I want you to go to the East tower.”

“Wanda?” She asks, curious but unsurprised. “You want me to train her?”

“I want you to question her.” Steve clarifies. “She and her brother were part of Hydra. They were created by Hydra. If anyone might know what this mystery weapon is, it will be them.”

Sharon rises and rushes out with a curtsy leaving you and Steve alone in his office.

Your eyes dance around the now empty room, stopping on the curtained off corner that had been Margaret’s reading nook.

The jealousy you feel is almost imperceptible. He’s had it sectioned off for so long that you’re certain he did it to either keep you out or shield it from view so that he might move on without being reminded of his first love.

“Are you worried?” He asks, drawing your gaze back down to meet his own.

“Only because I wish this were over.” You shake your head, reaching up to trace the shape of his cheek and then slide your hands into his soft and slightly unwashed golden head of hair. “But it will never be over, will it?”

Steve’s face is serious, pained in a way, but only because he can see your distress. “No.”

His agreement weighs your heart down and you settle into his arms a little sadly.

He wraps you up in them, pulling you so close that you might as well be fused with how he’s got you tucked in against his chest. You shut your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder, tucking it underneath his chin when he adjusts it to rest it against your head.

“Oh, my sweet flower.” He whispers. “I’m sorry that I cannot be normal for you.”

His lament gives you pause, making your heart ache for an entirely different reason.

“Steve…” You push yourself back up, searching for his storm blue eyes which you find full of sorrow. “…I would not want you to be anyone but who you are.”

He considers your words for a few moments while you renew the caress to his head.

“Wouldn’t you prefer it if I were a normal king? No Avengers? No strange enemies with strange abilities?” He wonders. “I know that even my own abilities might be a little troublesome. I know that I can be a little heavy handed.”

“Steve,” You stop him, taking his face in both your hands and turn him to face you. “I would not change one single thing about you. Not your strange addiction to salted pork with that cherry glaze Cook makes. Not the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh. Not the strength in your body or the smiles that greet me in the morning. Not the love you will always hold for Margaret, despite your declarations to the opposite.”

You drop your voice so that it is low and only for his ears, even though you’re very much alone.

“And most definitely not those heavy hands that pin me to our bed.”

His cheeks flush pink and it makes you so proud to make him blush that you chuckle once.

“I love every inch of you. Yes, I worry but only because I’ve seen you beaten and bloody. I’ve tended your wounds and watched you flinch. I’ve waited at your bedside in fear that you would never wake. I’m afraid that someone will take you from me and I’m not sorry for that. I can’t pretend that this life is not without risk and that very risk might one day take you from me and Maggie. I would wipe the world of evil if I could, but I know that I cannot so, I will worry every day for the rest of my life because I love you.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Steve sighs heavily, hating your words. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your chest as his hands trace the shape of your back, rubbing it to give you comfort.

“I wish I could give you a life without strife.” He cries, voice muffled against your breast.

“Oh, my darling, there is no woman, no wife or mother in this world that lives without strife. Perhaps mine is a little more elevated with so much hanging in the balance, as Queen and also the wife of the Captain, but I do not regret my choices. I would gladly marry you and endure all of my hardships over and over again if it meant that I could have this moment. Our daughter safe with her Aunt and you with your arms around me.”

Steve smiles at you, sappy and pure.

“I’ll be careful.” He promises.

You throw your head back and laugh, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep from falling off his lap.

“What?” He asks in humored shock. “What’s humorous in my promise?”

“Just swear to me that you will return to me in a somewhat decent state. One which I can nurse you through and I will gladly wait forever for you.” You can’t expect him to make promises he can’t keep and for him to be careful…well, you know better.

“I love you.” He tells you, voice deep and low.

His sudden declaration sends massive butterflies into the pit of your belly and your heart does a dance. It robs you of breath and you lick your lips and swallow the lump forming.

“Even after seeing me as I gave birth to Maggie? You love me after that?” You wonder, knowing the sight it must have been.

“No woman on this world is stronger or more capable than you, my petal. I could not have done what you did to bring her into being and I will worship at your feet for sacrificing so much to bring her to us.” He gushes, genuine and intense in his expression despite the lovesick flow of his words.

How long will this last? How long will he really love you in this way?

You know it all fades eventually. You’re not a fool. You’ll be glad if you and Steve love each other half as well as Tony and Pepper when you two have been married as long.

He pulls you down to kiss him and you give him what he needs and what you so desperately want. You think back to every time he pulled away from you, despising you for touching him just after you were married. You remember the way he forced himself to consummate, the way he’d drowned out your cries for relief because he wanted to get it over with.

He wanted to be done with you and never could you have imagined that he would hold you so dearly. His lips wrapping themselves along yours, tongue softly probing for entry which you swiftly allow.

“Do you have to get back to work?” You whisper between a kiss, lips wet, eyes hazy with desire.

Steve pulls back to see your eyes and he shakes his head, leaning back in. He runs his tongue along your open mouth as he pushes you up onto your feet only to reach down and hike up the front of your skirt.

He pulls you towards him, hands hooking behind your thighs as he guides you back onto his lap but leaves you standing over him.

His hands disappear underneath the folds of your dress, but you can hear the swish of his pants as he braces himself on the arms of his chair and pushes his trousers down a bit.

His hands caress the length of your leg, from behind your knee to thigh before finding your hip. With one hand he leads you and with the other he lines himself up, the heat of his cock pressing against the soft wet folds of your cunt.

You shiver.

“Tell me you love me.” He begs, needy.

“I love you.” You answer, a breathy whisper as he impales you slowly.

“My sweet…” He groans, yanking you down to kiss him in a fevered passion that you hope he will never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I need to go check on Grandmother.” Your eyes are fixated on the shielded corner of Steve’s den.

You’re not really looking at it, but it’s in your line of sight.

Steve groans, tracing the skin of your bum where you sit, still resting on his lap. Your head is on his chest, your body still wrapped around his. Still full of him though he’s spent after three rounds. You will both be sleeping soundly tonight, so long as Maggie will allow you to do so.

It’s not the custom for you to watch her at night but you insisted and as Queen no one will argue. Especially when Steve is so eager to support you in building a new way of life in the castle.

“She’s ill.” You reason with him, “I found her outside your door nearly fainted. With her age, I’d hate for us to be careless with her heath.”

“Shall I send for a doctor?” Steve asks, hands stopped on your bottom.

“Not yet. I’ll check with her first and then send for someone if needed.” You sit up and make to rise.

Steve’s hands suddenly grasp your bottom tight, fingers digging into your flesh. There’s a worry in it and it makes you look at him in search of what it might be.

“Do you want to see?” He asks you.

You’re at a loss as to what he means, and it must show on your face.

“Behind the curtains.” He explains, then gestures at the spot with a nod. “You were curious once before.”

You look at the spot and try not to feel too hurt or sound wounded by the memory of that day.

“And you were angry with me for it.” You remember.

“No.” Steve says, voice stern and certain. “No, my love, I-I was angry but not because you tried to look at her spot. I was angry because I thought you’d read my book.”

He sits up a bit more, arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he reaches with the other one to grab the red book with the large A embossed on the cover.

“This book holds every account of every mission that we have ever run as a team. It holds details of enemies and their abilities or their motives. It has everything.

“When I walked in that day, I saw you with your hand on it. I saw you reading it.” Steve hurries to explain. “My heart dropped when I realized what it was you were looking at and I lashed out. It wasn’t right of me to do so, but the last thing that I wanted was to have you involved in that world.”

“Oh.” You realize, staring at the book in his hand. “I thought-”

“I will not lie and say that it didn’t have a little to do with Margaret and her space in my den, but mostly I-I was already in love with you and the thought of you and all your purity and goodness, all of your vulnerability exposed to the violence of the world I lived in filled me with a fear that I have never known.

“Even now, only the thought of our little Maggie in danger compares to the terror that fills me when I think of you at the mercy of Pierce’s sword.” He brings his hands up, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “I would have gone mad if he’d taken you both from me.”

You can’t blame him for the fear. You’d felt it too. Still feel it when you imagine your little one, protected only with your body and you with no way to fight Pierce off.

“We owe Sharon so much.” You tell Steve and he nods.

“I can never repay her for being there when I could not be.” Steve agrees.

Several moments pass in silence as the two of you reflect on what could have been and relish in each other’s presence, bodies pressed so close still, in gratitude for the reality of the outcome.

“So?” Steve continues. “Would you like to see?”

He tosses the red book back onto his desk and carefully helps you up. He pulls your skirts down, helping you fluff them out as they should be before tying the string of his trousers and adjusting his shirt.

With the soft hiss of skin on skin, he takes your hand and pulls you around his desk towards the corner.

He releases your hand and reaches up to unhook the heavy curtains.

As they fall away, it reveals not a reading corner but a remade space with a new seat by the window. A bench with a plush pink cushion, darker pink peonies in the fabric. The dark woods compliment the lighter colors. Around that seat is indeed a bookcase but it’s much smaller than the ones that surrounded it before.

There is also a spinning wheel, a basket of what you can only assume is everything you will need to make your own yarn. There are several small round containers that you recognize as sewing kits. In one sitting open you can see a pair of iron scissors, thick and heavy. A leather pouch, spools of already woven yarn, and a collection of cutting knives for leather should you decide to work with it. There’s a small table against the other wall where a large bookcase had sat before, piled with patches of fabrics for embroidery and a few samples of tapestry fabrics that excite you as you’ve never worked on a tapestry before.

Near that table along the floor is a plump yellow cushion. The design is also feminine but only just with silver and baby blue butterflies. A small pillow, a doll made of rags and another out of wood tells you that this spot is for your little one.

Steve offers his hand once more and you take it, in awe of his reveal.

“I know you like to read so I had some books brought for you, but I wanted this space to be yours and yours alone. Well, until three months ago when Maggie was born, and I had that small space added for her. Do you…like it?” He wonders, watching you as you let his hand go and move to trace the smooth lines of your spinning wheel.

“Like it?” You gasp. “Oh, Steve…”

You burst into tear and cover your face. Why must you be so emotional right now? You want to show him how happy you are!

“Oh, no. Please do not cry.” He pleads, moving to wipe your tears away.

“I c-can’t help it. I’m sorry.” You weep. “I’m just so-so happy.”

Steve laughs, an easy chuckle as he pulls you against his chest.

“Thank goodness.” He kisses your head and holds you until you stop crying.

The walk to grandmother’s is a happy one. You’re excited to spend time in Steve’s den. Not only because he’s given you so many new tools to really make some high-quality products but because this means that you’re officially part of his life. He wants you near him when he works. He’s opened his space up for you and is welcoming you so openly.

After so long spent wondering whether you belonged here at all, you finally have your place. Truly this is where you belong.

A keening cry pierces the cool spring air. The shade of the trees that surround Grandmother’s cottage suddenly seem looming with the clear sound of an animal crying out in protest is cut abruptly cut off.

You stop walking and wait a moment to see if you might hear anything else but when you don’t, you race towards the cottage, in fear for Grandmother’s life.

As you shove the door open, you expect to find the old woman clutching her heart again, on her knees in a heap on the floor.

What you do not expect to find is the old woman in the middle of a large circle drawn onto her floor.

Even now, a strange purple light fades from the circle leaving behind the sight of Grandmother on her knees, a slaughtered mess of black fur in front of her and her hands bathed in blood as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Grandmother?!” You race towards her, stepping into the circle as the light fades completely.

She turns towards you, watching you with pure white eyes. Although she looks at you, her eyes see beyond you. They watch something you cannot see, and you begin to realize that everything that everyone said about Grandmother being a witch had been completely correct and not at all because of her old age and her hermit behavior.

“Grandmother are you alright?” You ask in a panic, realizing her true self while trying to make sense of it with the old woman who just delivered your daughter.

When she speaks, she breathes inward. Her voice escapes as a gasp.

Breathing in. “The worst is yet to come.”

Breathing out. “There will be a power much darker than this world has ever seen.”

Breathing in. “Six are sought by the one who shall wield them. Half will die.”

Breathing out. “Already he makes his move.”

“Grandmother?”

With her eyes still bone white, she seems to finally see you and grasps the top of your arms with such strength that you’re sure her fingers will leave a bruise.

“He will fight harder than he has ever fought before. He will protect them all with his life.”

He? Steve?

“And he will fall.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 115

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,010ish

Summary: Y/N is struggling to cope with everything. (Hopefully this chapter makes sense.)

Needing to get back to Talbot, Coulson took Fitz-Simmons with him, leaving Y/N in the hands of Mack and Yo-Yo, while May started searching for a place where they could keep Y/N safe. Simmons had given Y/N something to help her sleep before she left, allowing Y/N to get some rest. 

Talbot wasn’t happy that Coulson had left him but willingly listened as Coulson and Fitz-Simmons fully explained the situation with Hive and Daisy. As they did so, Talbot’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at the message, unhappy with what he was reading.

“I need you to cut the shit now, Coulson,” Talbot interrupted. “I’ve just been informed that Y/N Rogers is missing. And having not signed the Accords and being enhanced that means she’s a fugitive, like her brother. Where is she?”

“We don’t know,” Coulson quickly lied, holding a steady poker face. “She hasn’t reach out. And if she’s smart, like I believe she is, then she won’t.”

Talbot stepped up into Coulson’s face. “If I find out Rogers here, SHIELD’s done for.”

“She’s not. All cards on the table. Besides, our focus should be on stopping Hive, not searching for Y/N. She wasn’t even apart of the fight in Germany. I saw the footage myself.”

“Okay then, what do you have for stopping him?”

“We’re exploring some options.”

“Options? That’s what you’ve got? You told me this thing could take out an entire planet. I got an option for ya, a preemptive strike. This isn’t a job for SHIELD. This a job for the United States military.”

“You want to make that call? Go ahead. But you’ll probably lose them at ‘devil’.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Talbot signaled for Coulson to not answer that before turning around and sighing. “Wouldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“Even if they could be convinced, by the time we dealt with all their second guessing and red tape, whatever Hive’s planning would already be done.”

“We shouldn’t act without knowing the last piece of the puzzle,” Fitz said. “Hive and his hole-in-the-wall gang recently stole something from an ATCU facility in Indiana. Till we find out where that is…”

“Acting without all the information could make things worse,” Simmons added. “It could be what Hive wants. He was the only thing to survive on that planet, and he survived for a reason.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Talbot asked.

“Trust us,” Coulson replied. 

Fitz’s tablet beeped, causing all of them to come around and look at it.

  “Oh, Daisy’s back in the system,” Fitz stated. “She circumnavigated the anti-subversion code and gained access to Lincoln.” 

Fitz quickly pulled up the feed to Lincoln’s cell. He was seemingly asleep.

“That boy sure sleeps a lot,” Talbot commented.

“Unless…” Fitz muttered, playing with the video.

“It’s a pre-recorded loop,” Simmons stated.

~~~

“I didn’t know we had an Avenger on the team,” Yo-Yo commented as Mack watched over Y/N.

“Yeah…” Mack sighed. “Coulson likes to keep that on the down low. For her safety and ours.”

“When was the last time any of you saw her?”

“It’s been months with no contact. Honestly, I thought she was doing better than this. Guess I was wrong… no one should know how it feels to lose a child. No one.”

Yo-Yo watched Mack carefully. She knew that he was hiding something but wasn’t ready to pry just yet.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m good.”

She nodded, watching him a little while longer before taking her leave. Mack sighed again before slowly setting his hand on top of hers. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N/N, but I lost a child too,” he said quietly. “Her name was Hope. She lived to be four days old… so I understand a bit of what you’re going through and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the base’s emergency alarm started sounding. It was loud enough to break Y/N from her sleep.

“Wh-what’s happen—ing?” She croaked, unable to focus.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mack said, standing. “But I’ll find out.” He went to leave and that’s when Y/N realized he was the only one in there with her.

“No! Please… don’t go…”

“If the base is in trouble, I have to see if they need help. I’ll be back as soon as I can or send someone for you, alright?” He turned again to leave.

“Mack…” He paused at the door, waiting for her to continue. “What happened to you?”

He sighed as you continued to take in his bruises and arm in a sling. “Daisy happened.”

~~~

Y/N was struggling to stay still, the alarm had just stopped and she wanted to see if her friends were okay. Getting out of bed was the easy part, it was walking that took a lot of her energy. She stumbled out of the room and walked along the walls, leaning into them. Following her gut, Y/N made her way to the common room. There she saw General Talbot, Coulson, Fitz, Lincoln, May, Simmons, Mack, and a new girl standing around the table. She leaned against a pillar, out of sight from the others.

“We knew Daisy was listening and monitoring our every move,” Lincoln explained. “So we couldn’t tell anyone. She had to believe it was all real.”

“I communicated with him by leaving messages on his food trays,” May stated.

“You forgot the message about not hurting his friend,” the new girl said.

“Sorry, Mack,” Lincoln said. “I didn’t have any other option.”

“Mack wasn’t supposed to be there,” May replied, giving him a knowing look.

“Excuse me for doing my job,” Mack said.

“The plan depended on Daisy listening to everything so that she’s trust me and believe that I really wanted out,” Lincoln continued. 

“You had me fooled,” Talbot commented.

“Even though I wanted to, I never trusted Daisy… not under Hive’s control. I knew that she wouldn’t be the one to greet me, no matter what she said.”

“But what about the other risks? Lash could kill Daisy,” Mack stated. “Did you stop to think about that?”

Hive? Lash? Daisy under someone’s control? All of this was confusing Y/N, but really only because she couldn’t really focus fully. Her brain was all a mess.

“It’s a risk we had to take,” Lincoln said. “But he had the opportunity once before, and he let her go. I don’t think he’s meant to kill her.”

“Who put him on the Quinjet?” Talbot asked.

“I did,” May answered, “while Coulson was keeping you distracted.”

“You knew about this?”

“I run a tight ship,” Coulson replied.

“Why do you think this Lash can defeat Hive? And who in tarnation names these things?”

“Every Inhuman is here for a reason and serves a purpose,” Lincoln explained. “I believe Lash’s purpose is to kill Hive.”

“Now, we just wait and see what happens,” Coulson said.

“Right,” Talbot agreed with a nod.

Everyone began heading out. Y/N, too weak to form a portal, slid down the pillar, slowly losing consciousness. She heard footsteps coming towards her.

“Shit,” Mack muttered as he found her like that. “I need a little help over here!”

Everyone, including Talbot raced over.

“Oh my—“

“I thought you said you didn’t know where Y/N was, Coulson?” Talbot said. “You’ve been lying.”

“I’ve had to,” Coulson defended. “Look at her. She’s not a harm to anyone.”

“She needs to be in government custody and to—“

“She needs to be here! She’s been through—going through a trauma. She is staying here.”

“You don’t get to make that call, Coulson.”

“But I do. Because, right now, I’m pretty sure I’m the only family Y/N has left.” 

Fitz lifted her off the ground, with Lincoln and Simmons checking her over. Talbot looked over and watched.

“Do you know what happened?” Talbot asked, eyes not leaving Y/N.

“Not much,” Coulson answered. “Only that she lost her child.” Talbot’s head snapped to look at Coulson. “Y/N was pregnant, but she—“

“Isn’t anymore. I got that.” 

Talbot looked back at Y/N. Fitz was still holding her close as Simmons and Lincoln fretted over her. The rest of them watched Talbot, wondering what he was going to do.

“I only have one kid,” Talbot said. “My wife has had 6 miscarriages…. You can take care of her, but once she’s back to full health, she’s the governments.”

“Let’s get her to the med bay,” Simmons suggested.

They rushed Y/N to the med bay, quickly getting her set up and comfortable there. Coulson took his spot at her side. If Tony, Steve, and Bucky weren’t allowed to be here, he was going to make sure that she knew someone was on her side. Coulson observed her and wondered what could have happened in the last week. There was a light bruise of a handprint on her neck and dark purple bags forming under her eyes. It pained him to think about what she was going through, with the loss of seemingly her whole life.

“We still haven’t heard anything about Daisy,” May stated, entering the part of the lab Y/N and Coulson were in. “How is she?”

“Stable,” Coulson answered, keeping his focus on Y/N, “for now… I keep wondering… what the hell happened? The team fell apart and it left her like this. I don’t know if I want to know exactly what happened.”

“She’ll bounce back. Y/N always does.”

“But what if she doesn’t this time? What if this is the thing that breaks her? She lost her child, May. Then found her way here instead of with Tony or Steve.”

“Y/N knows she’s always welcome here. She was smart to come here.”

“What do you think—“

“Ragtag base, come in,” Daisy’s voice came over the bases PA system. “This is Agent Daisy Johnson… I’m coming home. Repeat… I’m coming home.”

~~~

Coulson ordered two agents to greet Daisy in the hanger and cuff her, just in case. They all, except Y/N, waited at the base’s door to the hanger. When Daisy walked in, they could tell she had been through a lot. She didn’t look well and she was leaning on one of the agents for support.

“Welcome back, Agent Johnson,” Coulson greeted, solemnly. Daisy glanced up, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s good to see you,” Lincoln said.

She breathed shakily, letting a tear run down her cheek. “Lash died trying to save me,” she stated sadly, unable to look anyone in the face as she said it.

“Did he manage to kill Hive?” Talbot asked. Daisy shook her head.

“Get her to the med bay,” Simmons directed. The agents led her away.

“What if Lash wasn’t here to kill Hive?” Fitz asked.

“He was here to save Daisy,” Lincoln said.

“That wasn’t Lash,” Simmons said. “That was Dr. Garner.”

The group followed after Daisy and the other agents. They watched at Daisy’s steps faltered as she entered the med bay.

“Y/N?” Daisy gasped. “Wh—what happened?”

“You need to sit down,” Simmons directed, guiding her to a separate glass room.

“But… when? I—I didn’t notice….”

“May found her in a closet,” Fitz responded as Daisy sat on the bed and Simmons started working. “She… she, uh…”

“She’s been through a lot,” Simmons said. “She’ll be fine after some heavy rest.” She turned to a lab tech. “Prep for immediate blood transfusion and full cranial scan.”

Outside of the glass room, Coulson, Talbot, Yo-Yo, and Mack were watching.

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Talbot asked. “That she isn’t under Hive’s voodoo spell?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Coulson answered. 

“In the meantime… have a little faith,” Mack added.

~~~

Coulson waited for news about Daisy at Y/N’s side. When the results were back, Simmons called him out into the lab.

“Daisy is completely sway free,” Simmons stated. “Her brain is back to normal. But she is suffering withdrawal symptoms from the effects of the sway. It’ll take some time. She’s resting now, recovering from that and the blood loss, but we do expect a full recovery.”

“Nobody goes in there until I say,” Coulson ordered. “But that’s good news.” He watched Simmons. “I know that look. That means there’s bad news, too. What is it?”

“Dr. Fitz?” She turned to him.

“Well, this is purely hypothetical,” Fitz began, “and there are a lot of unknown variables, but…”

“Based on what Daisy told us about Hive’s new pathogen—“

“We think we know what he plans to do with it.” Fitz pulled up a simulation on the computer. “If he can create some short of shock wave, then Hive could potentially infect a significant percentage of the human race, turning them all into the swayed Primitive Inhumans that Daisy described—“

“If and only if he finds a way to disperse it high enough in the atmosphere.”

“Yeah.”

“He has a way,” Talbot stated quietly. “That thing he stole from the ATCU in Indiana. It was a warhead… a fully operational warhead.”

~~~

Simmons walked into the containment module that was connected to the cell Daisy was being kept in.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Daisy said quietly.

“I’m here to provide progress updates based on the intel you gave us… nothing more,” Simmons responded.

“And they only send you. Why?”

“If anything I tell you jogs any memories, any pertinent information at all, I'll ask you to divulge.”

“It’s because you’re the only one I didn’t hurt… personally, I mean. That’s why. You and… Y/N. How is she?”

“Have you thought of any new pertinent information?”

Daisy sighed, leaning back into the couch she was sitting on. “As I said, Hive’s followers tell him everything, but he rarely returns the favor. I’m sorry that’s not enough to act on.”

“Well, we are acting on a new lead.” Daisy turned her head to look at Simmons. “We’re located a US missile silo in the Pacific. Seems like a good fit.”

“If that’s where they plan to do it, they’ll be there ahead of you.”

“Yes. The silo’s staff went silent five hours ago.”

“Even if you infiltrate, you can’t shut down the launch… not without government Kill Codes.”

“We are aware."

“Had-delivered by a DOD official. It’s not hackable. You won’t be—“

“We are aware. The only thing you gave us that didn’t pan out was that word. You said he mentioned ‘absolution’. Any idea what he meant?”

Daisy barely shook her head with a shrug. “He thinks he’s the savior…. Just… answer this one question for me, Jemma. Please… how is she?”

Simmons sighed, debating on whether or not to say something. “Y/N… she’s awake, but… she’s not really here. She hasn’t said anything since she woke up. She won’t eat. She just stares off into space and sleeps.”

Daisy stood up and walked over to the windows Simmons was standing at. “No one will tell me what happened.”

“Cause we don’t know the full story… it’s also not our story to tell.”

~~~

Nothing felt right to Y/N. Even just being in her body felt completely awful. And she had no energy, to talk, to eat. She knew that she was being fed through the IV’s connected to her. But, to her, there was nothing left to fight for. Y/N had lost everything… and it was her fault, just as much as it was everyone else’s. At least, that’s what she thought.

She could tell that there was a mission going on, another end of the world scenario. But she didn’t have any more fight left in her. There was nothing left. So Y/N slept and stared off into space, beating herself over the life she knew, the life she lost. She didn’t even know how long it had been since she arrived back at the base and she didn’t care.

The team had captured Hive, but were still tracking down his people. His people were still planning to release a substance over most of the earth to turn people into Inhumans. Every member on the team was busy, but they each made an effort to check in on Y/N every now and then.

“Hey,” Coulson came into the med bay room, “I brought you some things.” He held up a bag, but Y/N didn’t bother looking his way. “Your favorite snacks, a few books I’ve bought but have had no time to read, a tablet for you to whatever you want with.” He set the bag on a table beside her bed before sitting next to her. “Is there anything I can help you with?” No answer.  “Or at least tell me what self deprecating thoughts are running through that brain of yours?” No answer, yet again. “Y/N, this isn’t your fault. Nothing of what happened is your fault. You didn’t—“

“I killed my baby….” Y/N replied, just above a whisper. “How is that not my fault?” She finally turned her head to face him. “My baby’s dead… because of me…”

“That’s not true.” Coulson shook his head. “You were under a lot of stress. More than anyone should—“

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still my fault… I should have tried harder to protect my family…. It’s always my fault…” She turned her head away again.

“Y/N, I need you to listen very carefully. Nothing of what happened to your baby and to the Avengers is all your fault. That’s not out things work… you didn’t force anyone to sign or not sign the Accords. You didn’t force them to fight. That stress was put on you, that’s not your fault.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I wish I could believe you… but, I’m sorry, Phil…. It is my fault.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 15: It’s Way Worse Than She Thought

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

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

Word Count: 6673

Warnings: Language, blood, assault.

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 14: Her World is Shaken, Not Stirred

The stone was cleaved open down the middle like it’d been cut by an ax. The jagged edges came to a peak about a hundred feet above the original top of the cave and shot downwards at steep declining angles so the opening was triangular instead of round. 

You stood at the base of the cave and stared at the tear in the stone, your heart sinking lower and lower in your chest as the crushing reality of the situation sank in.. “No…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “No, this isn’t possible! I was just here! I just got done with the spells!” Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, your hands raked through your hair, and your legs quivered. “There’s no way! I was here less than two hours ago! It’s not—“

“My queen,” Pierce said cutting off your rambling, his voice filled with concern. “You need to calm down. Please sit.” He took your hand and led you over to one of the boulders that had fallen from the opening. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

You could only nod as you stared up at the crack, it’s length exceeding your line of sight as it soared up into the darkness of the Underworld’s ceiling.

Something had made the wall split. Something had broken Tartarus, making it stand agape. Something had breached the most dangerous part of your realm. 

Carol slunk towards the cave, coming to a stop right at the entrance. Slowly she reached forward and rested her hand against the stone. Her hand had barely touched the surface when she yanked it away. The color drained from her face as she stared at it aghast. “It’s coated with him,” she spat, glaring at the stone with venom in her eyes. “And not just him… There’s something indiscernible here. He’s not working alone.”

Natasha took a step forward. “You mean…?”

No! you wanted to cry out. You wanted to tell her that it couldn’t be possible. No one was allowed near the cave. No one had been put under his influence; you’d made sure of that. And yet there you were, staring at the ugly face of your reality. Kronos had done significant damage to the outermost layer of his cage—the entrance of Tartarus—and, if Carol was right, he hadn’t done it alone. 

“I don’t know what I mean,” Carol admitted.

You did. There was a traitor in your midst.

Pierce reappeared at your side moments later, holding the promised glass of water. He helped your trembling hand grasp it and bring it up to your lips. 

You drank the whole thing. On a normal day, it would’ve been refreshing, but now it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Satisfied that you’d drunk the whole thing, Pierce took the glass and stepped back. “My queen,” he said addressing you, “what are my orders?”

You stared up at him, thankful that he was taking the initiative even if you were shellshocked. “I… I need you to…” Gods, you couldn’t even form a sentence you were so rattled. You swallowed thickly, rolling your shoulders back. “I need you to secure the Underworld. Close the gates. This is a total lockdown situation. No one enters or leaves without my permission.”

He said nothing but bowed low. His wings unfolded from his back and he was up in the air in a blink of an eye, ready to carry out your orders.

Bucky used this time to find a seat on the boulder right beside you. He grabbed your hand and pulled it over to rest in his lap to pet it as an attempt to calm your shaking. 

You squeezed his hands tightly, your knuckles growing white with the effort. 

Carol spun on her heel to look at you, her eyes demanding. “(y/n), I need you to tell me everything that’s happened today. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

You obeyed, slightly relieved that your youngest sister was Queen of the gods and not you. She was commanding and you were more than happy to do as directed in situations like this. 

You told her how you’d woken and immediately went to charm the cage and Kronos was silent for once. And although the silence unnerved you at the time, it never could’ve foreshadowed this. From the cave, you went straight home for brunch and Bucky came by after. “We were just sitting together when the quake happened. I… I never saw it coming. I should’ve…” You hung your head. “It was my job to keep the cage secure and I…” You didn’t want to say that you’d failed, but you had no other word for what had led you to this moment.

Natasha rushed over and put her hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, (y/n). The cave is split, but if the cage was really and truly broken, then Kronos would be out here unleashing all sorts of hell. There’s still hope.” She turned her gaze back to the opening and pressed her lips together. “Carol… We have to…”

“I know,” she said, her shoulders rolling back and her chin tiling up. “We have to call the council.” Carol looked at you, her eyes hard as steel. “You and Bucky are coming with. You were the ones here when it happened, you need to testify.”

Your heart sank.

The “council,” as it was known, was a gathering of the twelve Olympians and yourself, only called when something earth-shattering or incredibly urgent arose (which, if you were being honest with yourself, defined this event). Your sisters and you sat at the head of the table with Carol front and center, you to her right, and Natasha to her left. From there, you were joined by Maria, Tony and his wife Pepper, Clint, the twin gods Wanda and Pietro, Thor and his brother Loki, Valkyrie, and, of course, Winnifred. 

It was the last member of that list that made you nervous. Winnifred was nowhere near as powerful as you. You were the first goddess, you’d been around for centuries longer than she and you had an entire army of the undead at your will. She was simply a second-generation goddess, given domain over the harvest, but she was the mother of the man you were dating and she hated you. While she had no control over you or your actions, she did have some influence over Bucky. She was his mother, after all, and she hated you with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t control her son’s actions, but you didn’t want to irrevocably damage his relationship with her.

You were close to your mother; you didn’t want to be the reason why Bucky wasn’t close with his.

If she was to be there—which she undoubtedly was—she’d be seeing you and Bucky together for the first time. You could only imagine how well that would go over with her.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bucky squeezed your hand and glanced at you. His eyes mirrored the worry you felt. You couldn’t read minds, but you had a feeling his thoughts matched yours; he was scared she’d flip, and you didn’t need to deal with her on top of the current situation. You’d been hoping to break the news to her gently, give her time to just accept it.

Welp, looks like it would be tearing off a bandaid with this one.

You took what felt like the millionth deep breath and sat up. “Alright. Just… Give me one second.” You had to leave a message for Peggy and Pierce. In your quick absence, as much as you loathed to do it, you would be sending Peggy to the cave to do the most damage control she physically could and you would be having Pierce guard the borders. No one would escape past him. You held out your hands and closed your eyes. Channeling your wishes and your messages, power coursed through your arms until they came to a rest at your palm and small balls of red fire formed. They hovered above your skin as they transcribed the message and finally floated off into the distance, each going off to find their respective recipient. With them on their way, you looked back to your sisters and nodded. “Okay, we’re ready.”

———

Olympus wasn’t as it normally was. The streets weren’t bustling with gods and spirits. The atmosphere was haunted and cold. The shops were empty and doors and windows were locked up tight. Things littered the ground and things were knocked over; various bits of evidence that something had shaken the earth up there and caused people to panic.

You knew the earthquake was bad, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had affected the rest of the realms.

Carol had already summoned the council; you could see the ten gods bustling outside the palace at the top of the mountain. 

With every step you took towards it, you felt like you were only sealing your doom. You were scared to be seen with Bucky. You were scared that you would taint his reputation with the Olympians. You were scared that they’d renounce him. It was a ridiculous thing to fret about, considering the current situation and all, but it was also one of the only two things on your mind (aside from your father and Tartarus, of course). Your feet felt like steel weights had been glued to the bottom, holding you down and only growing heavier with every step. You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, how you wished this was only a sick dream—that you could just open your eyes and you’d be in Bucky’s arms, happy, safe, and secure. But it wasn’t. This was reality, and you had to stare it in its ugly face.

Bucky slowed with you, matching your pace step for step. Your hands were still intertwined and he used that to pull you into his side as he finally stopped. He took a step to the side so he was standing right in front of you and brought his free hand up to your cheek. His rough, calloused skin cradled your face and he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “Hey,” he whispered in a voice too tender for words. “It’s going to be okay.” Whether he was talking about your father or his mother, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter to his next words. “We’re going to do this together. You and me against it all; I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You pushed up on your toes to press your forehead to his and let out a trembling breath. You didn’t know how it was going to be okay. Nothing seemed to be okay. But his words did comfort you, and you suddenly felt like you could face the world. You were already strong alone, but now you had him and he helped you be stronger. With him with you, the possibilities were limitless. “Okay,” you finally whispered after a bit. “Then let’s go.” You squeezed his hand softly and pulled back, letting both of you fall back in line as you climbed the steep mountain to the palace.

Most of the other gods had already filed in, filling the main room and taking their seats on their thrones at the table. Each god had one to match their personality and their domain so that there would be no debate on which throne belonged to a god; even you had a throne, although you weren’t technically a part of the Olympians. 

Your sleek black throne sat to the right of your sister’s. Where Maria, your beloved sister-in-law, usually sat, a new throne had been erected. It was temporary, of course, but there was no doubt that it was Bucky’s. The flowers on the armrests made that painfully clear. 

The gods continued to talk amongst themselves as you and Bucky entered last, your hands still tightly interwoven as if they were glued together. None paid you any attention; none except Winnifred.

It was as if she sensed Bucky’s entrance. She was his mother after all; she probably had some sort of mother-sense that alerted her to her child’s presence. As soon as he took a single step into the throne room, her head snapped to the side to look at him. In a matter of mere seconds her face flashed through about 4 different expressions: shock, confusion, realization, and finally rage as her eyes landed on your interlocked hands. Her face turned beet red and steam would’ve been shooting from her ears if this were a cartoon. 

You glanced sideways at Bucky, receiving only a nod from him, before tugging him by the hand over to your thrones. This was not your first council meeting; you knew the drill. You marched right past Winnifred, paying her no mind. There was something much more pressing than her petty anger and displeasure at hand and it had to take precedence. She could wait. You finally reached your thrones and sat down in yours.

Bucky took his and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

You didn’t know if it was because his mother was in the room or if it was because he wasn’t used to being in the council, but you reached over and placed your hand on top of his regardless. Your dead color contrasted with his perfectly, and your cold fingers trailed over his skin. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You don’t have to talk, you’re just here as another witness. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered back, turning his hand over so his palm was up. He curled his fingers into you, gripping your hand softly. 

It was then that Carol mounted the head of the table. Standing in front of her golden throne, she cleared her throat. “Everyone, please take your seats.” She stared out over the twelve gods assembled beneath her and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for having to call you all here so suddenly, but there has been a disturbance. I assume you all felt the earthquake this morning?”

“Yeah,” said Tony, who sat just down the line from you. “Pep and I were having lunch. What the hell happened? It had to have been bad if it shook Olympus.”

The others gathered murmured in agreement, their voices hushed.

“It was,” Carol affirmed. “Tartarus has been breached.”

As you’d expected, that simple sentence caused an uproar. At once the gods were tense and alert. Some drew their weapons.

Clint was the first to speak. Having dealt with you and the Underworld before, he knew what that meant. His face was pale and his posture rigid. “But that means your father—”

“Has grown stronger,” you affirmed. “This morning the cave’s entrance was been cleaned open. We’re not entirely sure how much damage has been dealt, but we’re working on repairing it already.”

“If you’re repairing it, then why are we here?” asked Pietro, his thick accent coming through. He was a younger god, just a bit older than Bucky but not by much. He was visibly puzzled, not understanding the severity of the situation, but you weren’t surprised; he hadn’t even been dreamt of when the first Titanomachy took place. 

“The repairs are nothing but a bandaid,” you said, your voice taking on a grave atmosphere. “Kronos has somehow severely damaged the cage once, what’s to say he won’t do it again. He’s hellbent on destroying us; he tells me so every single time. He’s powerful and dangerous. Even in the cage, he has managed to corrupt deities.” Peggy’s haunted eyes from all those centuries ago flashed through your mind and you shuddered. “He is a legit threat and we cannot allow him to break out.”

“But if he breaks out, then we can just defeat him again, right?” asked Thor. The god of war was seated towards the far end of the table and staring at you, his eyes hopeful. The man was smart and kind, but he thought that every problem could be solved with fists and fighting. He was grinning. “You fought him millennia ago and won! It should be a piece of cake.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Thor,” you hissed. “Kronos has been stewing for all those millennia, biding his time to escape and end us. If he’s breaking out now, it’s because he’s powerful enough to do so, or had help from someone who could do it with him. We would hardly stand a chance.”

“But the last war we fought—”

“The last war we fought nearly destroyed the world and took ten years!” you snapped, your vision flickering with red. Why was it so hard for them to understand? You rose to your feet glowering at the gods. “We don’t have ten goddamn years this time! The mortals have come so far, and a war of that magnitude would send them back to the stone ages. We need to put an end to this now.”

“Well, we wouldn’t need to put an end to this if you had done your fucking job! Isn’t it your responsibility to keep his cage secure?” Winnifred shouted from her spot at the table, cutting you and everyone else off with a withering glare. It was the first she’d spoken since the calling of the council and it surprised everyone into silence. “You’re the Queen of the Underworld, keeping his prison secure is your job! Or have you been distracted as of late?” Her voice dripped with malice, the hatred going unmasked in her eyes. She was glaring at you and her son having put two and two together. She wasn’t an idiot after all, after seeing you two together, you figured it wouldn’t have been hard to deduce that there was something going on between you, that to your side was the place he’d been escaping so frequently. 

Bucky looked down the table at her, his eyebrows knitted together. “Mother, please.”

“No, Bucky,” you said standing up straighter and glaring down at his mother. “It is true that I have been a bit preoccupied. Not that anyone of you would care, but for once I’ve actually decided to do something for myself and find happiness in a relationship. I have found someone among you who hasn’t treated me like a disease and who has become very dear to my heart, and I have spent some time with him as a partner and not just some unfeeling monster. And, as many of you do, I have balanced that with my responsibilities. I have never once missed a week in which I would go down to face my demons and strengthen his cage and I have even put my life on hold to increase the frequency. I have been punctual and consistent, never asking for help. And now that something that is beyond my control has gone wrong, you want to point fingers and put the blame all on me.” You spoke more to Winnifred when you said that last bit, but it was true nonetheless.

Red coated your vision ever so slightly as you glared down at the gods. “I have never once faltered in my duties, keeping you safe in silence. Now, I fear that something is happening, and I don’t know what it is, but I know that if we stand divided, then this something will end us!”

“(y/n),” murmured Carol, reaching up to place her hand on your forearm. “Be still; it’s okay.”

You calmed a bit at your sister’s touch, but not by much. Though the red dimmed in your eyes, the world continued to stay tinted with the color. You continued to stare at Winnifred as you reluctantly sat in your throne. You could still feel your blood boiling, but it was cooled ever so slightly by the hand that reached over and settled atop yours.

Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze, holding it atop your armrest. He kept his eyes at the center of the table, but you know he was just trying to help. You appreciated him very much. 

You let out a quiet breath, exhaling through your nose, and squeezed him back. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

Carol took over from there, explaining your theory that Kronos was not working alone. After all, the cave was split open and you had been monitoring Kronos’ power. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to actually do that. So that meant that someone was working for him. Of course, this also caused a nervous uproar, but Carol was quick to calm them. Instead of letting them panic, she gave them orders. First to help repair the cave the best they were able or to send their underlings down to help and second to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and prepare themselves for war. 

They were simple tasks but they left the gods with something to do and with a direction to go in which made them happy. 

The gods dispersed, opting to return to their respective realms to carry out their orders. 

You were left alone by your throne with Bucky. It was just the two of you, the throne room was silent. You sucked in a deep breath and looked at the man beside you. “I… I think that went well. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, though you didn’t need me there.” He smiled softly. “Will we go back to the Underworld?”

“Yes. I left Peggy and Alexander down there alone; they’ll probably be needing me back.” You shrugged. “I’ve got to help them with damage control.” Your head ached at just the thought of it. “I’ll probably exhaust my magic stores for the week, but if it keeps him trapped it’ll be worth it.” You rolled your neck with a grimace. “Are you coming with me or are you going back to your meadow?”

“I’m coming with you. My magic may not be the strongest, but I’ll do all in my power to help you out.” His eyes were kind as they looked at you. “As I said, you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you, Bucky.”

He nodded and smiled, but that smile was short-lived. His eyes were drawn to a point beyond your shoulder and locked on something behind you. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout a warning but you were quicker. 

You whirled around on your heel, ready to see what was coming, but you weren’t quite fast enough. 

Winnifred had appeared behind you, her hand raised and poised to strike. As soon as you were facing her, her open hand came rushing through the air, aimed directly at your face.

As the sound of a crack shattered the silence, Bucky cried out in shock. “Mother!” he shrieked as he rushed to your side, reaching up to cup your reddening cheek.

You shoved his hand away, your nerves alight with pain and your head bowed for only a moment from the impact. Fire built in the core of your chest, red as rage, and your eyes filled with a color to match it. She’d hit you; you, the original goddess and her superior in every way. You lifted your head, slow and menacing, and your lips pulled back into a snarl as you glowered at her. “How. Dare. You,” you hissed in a voice as cold as the Underworld itself. 

“How dare I? How dare you!” She was angry, and that anger seemed to be a shield that kept her from realizing just how much she’d pissed you off or what you could do about it. 

You didn’t know if she realized that you could smite her right then and there if you wanted; your weapon, after all, was one of the three that could kill other gods.

However, she carried on, not letting a second pass before she spoke again. “You are a slut, a filthy whore! The river naiad wasn’t enough for you? You needed a god to satisfy you?” Her lips curled back. “And who do you choose to prey on but my innocent son? You’ve corrupted him and lied to him and now you’ve kept him under a spell to keep him close to you!” Her claims were irrational, but she wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise to put her straight. “Well, I won’t have it! You endanger my son by keeping him around you! Death does nothing but bite at your heels and I refuse to let him be one of your casualties! You’re going to get him killed if you keep him with you! He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom! You can’t take him like this. He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better. You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Mother!” Bucky begged again. “Stop it!”

“I will not!” she thundered.

You knew she wasn’t lying. She’d already screamed enough to cause a scene, and there was no doubt that every creature within ten yards had heard her. Some of the lesser Olympians were cowering away, doing their best to stay out of it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your sisters beginning to rush to your aide. You simply held up a hand to stop them. 

They obeyed. While they too were queens, they knew better than to disobey you at times like this. If you said you could handle it, you would. Your ability to command even the queen of the gods herself was enough to demonstrate the power you held in your own right.

You continued to glower down at Winnifred, rolling your shoulders back. “Winnifred,” you boomed, your voice low and threatening. “I will not tolerate these accusations in the house of my sister. I will not tolerate the lies you speak of me and my intentions. And I will not tolerate you laying your hands upon me.” You stood up straighter and the room darkened. Your hands opened at your sides, calling forth the darkness that lurked in the corners of the room. With power coursing through your veins, you were downright terrifying. The air itself quivered at your presence, the taint of death and raw power causing even it to bend to your will. Your hand rose up, your bident materializing out of the darkness to fill your grip, and your eyes glowed brighter, the red casting a ghastly glow over the woman before you. “You think that you are equal to me; you are sorely mistaken. I am (y/n), Queen of the Underworld, the first god. You are nothing to me but an insignificant pest. I could have you put to death for even the slightest attack against me; you are at my mercy always.” Every god was, but none of them had ever pissed you off enough to warrant extortion of your power; until her.

Winnifred only then seemed to comprehend the power you held over her. Never once had you exerted it, but now she had assaulted you and given you reason to threaten her. You could see the moment it dawned on her that your threats had sustenance in her face; her eyes grew wide, her skin as devoid of life as yours, and her jaw slack with something you recognized all too well: terror. she was terrified.

And rightfully so. You were the last goddess to mess with. 

You could’ve killed her right then and there to make a point, to stick to your ground, but something tugged at your heart. One look at Bucky made you realize exactly what it was. 

He was looking at you with fear in his eyes too and you knew exactly why: he was scared that you might kill his mother in front of him. 

And it was in that second that you knew you never would kill her.

Though the woman had slighted you, offended you, and struck you—all things that would normally get one killed—she was still the mother of the man you loved and you could never put him through that pain. You knew the pain of losing a parent all too well, and it was something you would never inflict upon a loved one, least of all Bucky.

And so, still staring at the woman before you who seemed to think that these next few moments were her last ones alive, you put down your weapon. The air at once grew lighter and brighter as you let your rage disperse. “You are lucky I care about your son too much to do harm to you,” you spat as you let your eyes die down too, returning them to their normal shade. They flickered to Bucky and you spared him as soft a smile as you could manage. “If it were not for him, you would be suffering the consequences of your actions, but I am feeling merciful today.” Your eyes hardened once more as you looked down at her. “Now, do not test my self-restraint anymore. Leave.”

Given the word, she vanished, teleporting away, leaving nothing but wisps of wheat behind. 

When she was gone, Bucky rushed over to your side and wrapped his arms around you. He burrowed his nose into the crook of your neck and took a shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling.

You hugged him back, but your mind wasn’t on him. Even though she was gone, Winnifred’s words still lingered in your thoughts.

He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom!

That part… That part sounded oh so true. He was naive, blinded by his love.

Thinking hard on it, you couldn’t remember a single time he’d expressed independence around you. Everything up to this point had been for the both of you. He promised you he’d always be there, ready to support you unconditionally and stay by your side.

He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better.

You’d told him the same thing months ago, telling him that he couldn’t possibly know that he loved you. But he’d been so sure of it, so sure of his love that he waved you off. And you let him. You let him endanger himself by staying with you. You let him put himself in harm’s way.

You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you. 

He would get hurt with you, you were sure of it. The world was not kind to you. The world was not kind to anyone. He would be hurt or worse around you. 

Do you really want his blood on your hands?

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up and you came face to face with his concerned eyes. At once you saw something you never wished to see again.

You saw Bucky, bruised and bloody. Golden ichor dripped from a gaping head wound. It coated his face and matted his hair. Thin lines of the gold ran from his mouth and ears in rivers, glowing sickly in a dim light. His eyes… His eyes were the most haunting part of all. Where they normally shone with life, they were dim, vacant, dead.

This, you realized, was the future for him if he stayed with you, stayed by your side. Winnifred was right. You would only get him killed, especially with the war you knew was coming. If he stayed with you, he’d die. But… If you sent him away… He might stand a chance.

In that one second, your heart sank. You knew what you had to do. It scared you, hurt you, and made you want to throw up, but—gods—it had to be done. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk his life. You loved him too much to let him die.

“(y/n)?” Bucky called again. “Are you okay? You look… Paler than usual.”

Your voice wouldn’t work. It was stuck in your throat like a lead balloon. It didn't want to say what you had to. It didn’t want to say the words and make them real.

“(y/n),” he tried once more, “talk to me.”

You finally brought your head up and stared at him, your eyes full with pain, and you said, “She was right.” The words were hollow coming from your mouth

“What?” He was visibly confused and you couldn’t blame him. You’d be confused too.”Who was right?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, the effort alone becoming strenuous. “Your… Your mother was right. We… Bucky we’re not good for each other. I’m not good for you. You’re only going to get hurt. I can’t do that to you.” 

His brows furrowed. “What? No. (y/n), my mother knows nothing about us or about you. She doesn’t know that you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“But what if I’m not, Buck? What if she’s right? I’m the goddess of the dead; death follows wherever I go. It’s only a matter of time before it catches up with you too.” You didn’t know how you couldn’t see it before. It was so obvious! Especially with recent events.

If you were right, and you normally were, a war was coming—another Titanomachy to be exact. Gods against titans once more. Kronos was growing stronger; the battle was almost inevitable. You weren’t stupid enough to be blind to that.

But, with every war came casualties. You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by trying to protect Bucky. You knew he’d chase you to the ends of the earth to be with you, even if the ends of the earth was the battlefield itself. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to send him away before it was too late. You knew he would follow you otherwise. You couldn’t let him. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you.

“It won’t,” he said to reassure you, but he didn’t know that it was futile. Your mind had been made.

Your voice cracked as you said, “It will. It’s just a matter of when.” You knew what you had to do, you just wished it wasn’t so. How was it that not even twenty-four hours ago you were wrapped in each others’ arms and now you were having to send him away?

He seemed to have a vague understanding of what you were saying and he didn’t like it one bit. His stare hardened and his eyes grew desperate. “(y/n), please don’t say that. We can work this out.”

“No, we can’t.” You were taking slow steps away from him, trying to garner as much distance as you could. It hurt to be near him. Every muscle in your body ached and moaned with pain. “It can’t be worked out. Go, Bucky. Go away. Get as far away from me as you possibly can. I’m not good for you.” You were biting back tears as your heart sped up in your chest. It thundered against your ribs with the words.

But Bucky wasn’t going to give up that easily. “(y/n), whatever this is, we’re going to do it together.” He reached forward and took your hand in his. “I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it. I’m with you until—”

You wrenched your hand from his, cutting him off. “No, Bucky!” you snapped. “I said, ‘no!’ Go away. We can’t be together. I don’t want you with me anymore.”

He looked like you just smacked hIm in the face, which, you supposed, you did in a way. “Wh-What? But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” you moaned. You turned your head from him, unable to look him in the eye.. “I cannot have you near me. It will only get you killed. I don’t want you, Bucky! I don’t know why I ever thought I could have you!”

“(y/n), please,” he begged, his blue eyes welling with tears. “My mother knows nothing. We can get through this together.”

“Bucky, please. Just go away, leave me alone. I’m not good for you!”

“But you love me.” He glared at you, his posture and power matching your own. “And you want me.”

Your mouth went dry before you spat, “No I don’t.” The words surprised you as they left your mouth. ‘No I don’t’ what? Love you? Want you? Both were blatant lies, but you couldn’t let him know that. You had to keep him safe. You bit your lip, using the pain to keep the angry tears blocked behind your eyes.

He stopped, his gaze hardening. You knew then that he thought you meant the former: I don’t love you. He stared you down. “Then tell me, (y/n). Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me, that it’s over, and I will believe you.” You could see that he didn’t think you would, he believed he had you trapped between a rock and a hard place and that you would break and say that you didn’t mean it.

But he never could have predicted how desperate you were to get him away from you, how desperate you were to protect him even if it destroyed both your hearts in the process nor how far you were willing to go to keep him safe.

Heat and pressure built up in your core, rising up through your ribs to your stomach and your heart, trapping them with their iron fists. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you shoved it, along with the tears that were threatening to spill, back down. Your voice was raw, pained, feverish, when you forced out, “I… I don’t love you.” Saying the words, your whole world came crashing down. Saying them, you saw the light—that light that you loved so much—die in Bucky’s eyes.

You could feel your heart shatter as his face crumbled with sadness, anger, and devastation before finally falling away to nothing. His expression was stone, he refused to show you weakness, especially after you so ruthlessly took the heart he’d given you and smashed it. His lips formed a hard line and he nodded. And then he was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of flowers in his wake and taking your heart away with him. 

Your lips parted in a silent scream as the dams you had so hastily built came crashing down. Your heart ached, the heat and pressure becoming too much for it. Your hands clawed your chest, your legs buckled underneath you, and you fell to your knees. 

Natasha was the first to your side, her hand coming to rest on your back as she cried out your name.

But you couldn’t hear her. All you could hear was a ringing in your ears, accompanied by the sobs of your heart. You had never known so much pain before. Your body was simultaneously on fire and being stabbed with thousands of knives. Your muscles cried out in pain and your bones shrieked with misery. And suddenly your silent sobs were given a voice. The scream that tore itself from your throat was more than a scream of heartbreak, it was one of utter agony. Your body convulsed on the ground and you doubled over, coughing violently, expelling fat drops of golden ichor from your lungs.

And it was only then, staring at the gold that littered the ground, that you even thought to consider that the pain you were feeling was not from heartbreak alone. But you didn’t have time to ponder on it.

Your vision turned black at the edges and darkness crept in as you continued to cough up ichor. Up and up it came until you had no strength to stay upright. The world lurched sideways, your head pounded, and all you could hear were your sisters’ desperate cries for help as you fell into nothing.

Next 16: He Feels His Heart Break

[extremelyblackandwhite]

timeless - 04

PAIRING: medieval!james “bucky” barnes x reader

WARNINGS: sexual themes (18+) 

A/N: alright children, shield ur eyes on this one. other than that, people over 18, have fun xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure when she had fallen asleep but the grogginess present in her eyes as they opened to the sort of silent chambers where she was standing, still dressed in her gowns from last night. Looking at the clock hanging in the wall standing in front of her she realised she had overslept in a fantastic fashion meaning breakfast was already occurring and she was still dressed in last night’s clothing.

Quickly she got dressed in the first dress she came across, not worrying too much about fixing her hair and powdering her face as she started to run down the halls down towards the dinning area where most people were already happily sat, munching away at the beautiful treats set on the table by the staff. Luckily, everyone seemed to be more interested in a conversation going on which allowed the lady in waiting to sit down next to her princess and Eliza without much attention being called upon her. Odette gave her a warm smile, handing her a plate before happily continuing the chat she was having with her fiancé to be which gave Y/N the chance to yet again get lost in her own mind, eyes randomly wandering around the table, or at least she would tell herself it was randomly as in all honesty all her eyes wanted to settle on were on the Duke. Yet, differently from all other occasions were her gaze had graced him, he wasn’t looking at her or lost in his own mind, he was happily in a conversation with a rather beautifully dressed woman. Y/N had to admit that even her who didn’t give much thought to materialistic possessions, was jealous of how precious her gown and adorning jewels were, almost making her look like a angelic version of the ladies in poets’ and painters’ fantasies.

      - That’s the King’s younger daughter, Princess Rosaline. - Eliza spoke almost with a whisper like quality, noticing how intent Y/N was on the happily speaking pair. - Whenever the Duke is on castle grounds she always comes to make a visit. I guess murder doesn’t scare her. 

      - Eliza. - Odette called out. - Don’t spread rumours around. 

      - You have to admit if there is someone who’s close to becoming Grand Dutchess of Addia it is Rosaline. She’s the only one whom he happily speaks with.

      - It is not our business to comment on the Duke’s choices. - Odette gave her the gaze fit of a queen which made everyone and anyone shut up. Nevertheless, Y/N keep an unnoticeable gaze upon the duo, something she shouldn’t have done as once she looked, Rosaline’s hand was standing on top of his bicep as they chatted away. She felt her a burning feeling climb up her throat and if she didn’t know herself better, she would say she was jealous of the Princess of the Genoa. - Y/N, don’t listen to Eliza. Duke Barnes has never been linked to anyone since the death of his wife.

     - Which he caused. - Eliza added, sipping on her tea. - And that was 5 years ago. Men can’t go 5 years without sticking it somewhere.

     - Language. - Odette widened her eyes, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. - No more gossiping. 

     - Well, they certainly are ... friendly. - Y/N grabbed one of the knifes left of her plate to open the scone in her right hand. However, one shouldn’t try to look at what they’re trying to cut least not harm themselves. Y/N didn’t do that and in a flash of a second the fleshly sharpened knife sliced through the skin of her finger. She hissed as she let go of the knife and the pastry, holding onto her fingers to stop the small bleeding that came from her hand. 

All eyes were on her, specially Duke Barnes who seemed to have been the first to look her way the moment the knife hit the porcelain of her dish. Odette and Eliza turned to look at her too but it was too late as she was already up on her feet, rushing out of the dinning hall filled with embarrassment. First she came in late and then she cut her finger with a small knife. 

    - Y/N! - James went after her, a fast pace that quickly caught up to her. - Are you alright?

   - No, I’m not. I made a complete fool of myself, I disappointed my mother ... it just can’t get any worse can it?

   - Come on, let’s clean that up. - with one arm tightly wrapped around her frame and his free hand clutching the handkerchief he had placed on her bloody hand, he guided the young woman towards one of the many bathrooms of the castle. 

    - Shouldn’t you be with Princess Rosaline? - she whispered, fretting someone would hear her while watching him sit down in front of her and leaning forward. Gently, he pulled her hand towards him, elbows on his knees, each muscle bending and flexing and relaxing , making it look like an hypnosis show if she wasn’t paying attention.

     - She’s a smart woman but that’s where her charms end. - James muttered and she had forgotten that he was done cleaning the open wound until she felt the soft cotton of the bandages wrap around her finger slowly and tenderly as if it was full of love and care. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and creased with concentration and his strong defined jaw stood tense due to something which Y/N couldn’t put her finger on making her rather anxious, mostly due to Eliza’s gossiping. However all seemed to fly out of the window when she looked at him and how handsome he appeared in the daylight that shun through the window, casting upon his face the perfect colour of the yellow sun which peeked from the cloudy skies which graced Genoa. - If I’m hurting you, please tell me.

His hand moved through her garments, making a ruffling noise as he spread her legs the slightest, moving them apart until V shape was created. With that he slipped his hand under her skirts in search for her untouched and virgin cunt to ram his fingers in, taking his very long time to slither in between her trembling legs as if he were the the snake that tempted Eve thus casting her out out of Paradise, dooming the Earth and it’s inhabitants for the rest of time. Maybe he was dooming her too.

Y/N found herself gasping as if air had been stolen from her lungs once two of his gloved, thick fingers stretched her entrance and pushed beyond it, making her gasp and hold onto the sink behind her with such force she believed she could break the porcelain from her strength alone.

The way he stretched her hurt but it hurt in a sort of way cracking one’s bones feels, slightly discomforting but oh so pleasurable. It’s sinful, however, so divine, and she can’t help but let out a choked whimper, moaning like a common painted lady, as he moves them in and out of her with a thumb rubbing against her clit, making filthy noises as his fingers move in and out of her wet heat underneath her full ruffled skirt.

    - It hurts but, but it hurts so good, milord. - she admitted mid moan, lips quivering. Yet it’s when she open her eyes that she found herself not with his hand under her skirt but with his hand on her jaw, thumb caressing it, and a very worried look on his ruggedly handsome face.

    - Are you alright, milady? You spaced out for a moment, should I call a healer for you?

    - Oh my god ... - she moved away from her, hands gripping her skirt so she wouldn’t fall as she ran away from him and from the bathroom. What was wrong with her? Was she really daydreaming such filthy scenarios with a man she barely knew, a murderer in the eyes of the crowd? No, she had to be sick, delirious even. Nevertheless, she continued to run away to a place she didn’t even know, ignoring the calls of her name coming from him. She kept on with her pace, gaze on the floor, cheeks heated, shame hugging her whole being. Perhaps if she had looked up she wouldn’t have bumped against the last person she would’ve liked to speak with. 

   - Oh my, aren’t we clumsy? - two hands in her arms held her from collapsing as Y/N came face to face with Princess Rosaline. Even she had to admit she was beautiful with her tightly curled jet black hair and tinted lips. - Where are you going in such a hurry?

   - I’m so sorry, your royal Highness but I ...

   - James. - she called out making Y/N mutter a tiny “fuck” under her breathe. She was wrong, of course it can get worse. - There you are, you left so abruptly we wondered if you were feeling sick. 

   - I just went to tend to Lady Y/N. - his stare fell on her but she was much more interested in looking at her shoes rather than him, the memory of ... of what she had just seen in her mind too clear. 

   - Well, you’ve missed the good news. My father is hosting a tournament in my honour. 

    - A tournament? - Y/N was much to interested in the news not to make a question. 

     - You know, a tournament with fencing and other activities. If my memory doesn’t fail me, you’re a big fan aren’t you Bucky? - Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at the nickname. Maybe Eliza was right, maybe they were very close as this was possibly the very first time she had heard someone has high up as the two of them were refer to each other so ... intimately. Yet again, why was she worrying? 

    - I’m afraid my enjoyment of tournaments and other festivities die down each year that passes by. - he seemed uncomfortable, hands behind his back and feet moving almost as if he was trying to escape the conversation. - Besides, I am not one to win those affairs.

    - Nonsense. Lady Y/N you might not know but Lord Barnes is an expert swordsmen. Aided in the war efforts of Genoa and all. You must participate.

    - If it would make you happy, milady. 

    - Wonderful. 

tag list: @lookiamtrying​​​​ @kmuir1​​​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​​​ @tinymalscoffee​​​​ @navegandoaciegas​​​ @cinnabanuxoxo

[captainscanadian]

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 6)

My Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: Bucky Barnes is ready to fix the mess that your parents had created, but he doesn’t want you to know about it.

Word Count: 7076

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Steve (Platonic), Doctor!Steve x Lawyer!Peggy

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Homelessness, Mentions of Death & Cancer

A/N: Recently a lot of people have been asking me if Bucky can murder the reader’s parents. As much as I understand your strong hatred towards them, the answer is no. Sorry not worry. This one’s dedicated to Naynay for being the reason why I started posting all of my crappy writing on here. <3 Pic & gif are not mine, credits to the respective owners!

It was only a matter of time before Dr. James Barnes had been paged down to the Emergency Room for a consult. A patient had come in complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. This eventually led him into the OR to repair the woman’s dissecting aorta, a surgery that typically lasted a few hours with no complications. It was a procedure that he had performed many times before. He need not fret over it, despite it being an emergency procedure than a pre-planned one like the one this morning. Perhaps, it was the unpredictable nature of heart surgery that had been so attractive to him. He could not deny that he liked the adrenaline rush that came with literally racing death itself and beating it fair and square.

By the time he had gotten out of surgery, it was way past lunchtime and Bucky was starving. After getting Shuri to inform the patient’s family about the patient’s current status, he found himself grabbing a salad from the hospital’s cafeteria and retreating to the doctors’ lounge for some rest before he was to get hit by the next cardiovascular crisis at hand. The unexpected circumstances that came with the job were perfect for a guy who had once wanted no commitments. But now to say that his attitude had changed would be quite the understatement. Nevertheless, Bucky sucked it up and went about his day like any other surgeon in the hospital.

While a part of him was feeling uneasy, thanks to the escalation of things that he had returned to, he knew that all he had to do was push through it all until his shift would finally be over. But he was unsure what to do next. He wondered if he should go back down to the post-op ward and see you. As much as he wanted to return to his place at your bedside, a part of him was hesitant. He was unsure about whether you would want him there, especially after what had happened with your mother coming to see you. He did not want to risk being shooed away by you.

After all, it made him wonder if you could not even trust your own mother, how you could be able to trust anyone else. All of a sudden, your hesitance to become close to anyone in the hospital made sense to him. After all, your mother had been the source of all of your trust issues. And as much as he was willing to accept that you might never ever trust him and let him into your life, he could not deny that it would hurt like a bitch either way. He was not ready to put himself through that, at least not yet.

“Steve, you’re still here.” Bucky noted upon seeing his best friend lying down on the sofa once he entered the lounge. “Your shift ended hours ago. Why haven’t gone home, you punk? You’re one of the only ones who actually have a life outside of the hospital. Why are you even here right now?”

Sleepily flipping through the channels of the television to find something decent to watch, Steve looked up to see his best friend and gave him a weak smile. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, Buck, not after what happened to Y/L/N. Being her emergency contact is a huge responsibility and I feel like I should stick around, you know, just in case... I don’t want any her to have any other complications.” He told him with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders, sitting up to face his best friend who sat down in front of him.

“How is she?” He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as he picked at his salad for a moment.

“She’s... awake, talking. No further complications, no infections. She’s in a bit of pain but she’s a little hesitant about the amount of drugs she puts in her body. Nat redid the sutures herself and closed her up so they’re all... still in place. Wanda’s sitting at her bedside to make sure she doesn’t move at all, just to keep them still intact. Thor’s watching the door to make sure no one comes in or leaves without being noticed.” He explained. “She’ll be fine, Buck. She’s... recovering.”

Nodding as he bit down on his bottom lip once more, the dark haired doctor continued to pick at his salad. “You should go home, Steve. I’ll be here and... I’ll call you if anything happens. Just go home, get some sleep. You haven’t even seen Sarah in two days. At least, spend the night at home for her and come back in the morning.”

“No, Buck, it’s fine... I don’t mind sticking around the hospital for a few more hours. I’m way too sleepy. It’s definitely not safe for me to be driving home on my own and Peggy had a meeting at the firm this afternoon. She said she won’t be back until she’s picked Sarah up from daycare, so I’m just hanging out here, waiting for my girls.”

A soft chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he finally took a bite of his salad, leaning back in his seat and putting his feet up against the coffee table. “You’ve really got your shit figured out, Steve. Work-life balance, marriage and kids...” This was true. Compared to him, his best friend really did have his whole life figured out. The two of them had always been competitive despite being best friends since childhood. From the SATs to their undergraduate years to the MCATs to Columbia Medical School, even their surgical residencies thereafter, Bucky and Steve had always come in neck and neck at the top of their classes. But when it came to family life though, it seemed like Steve was already way ahead of Bucky.

“You know, you could have that too if you really wanted to.” Steve reminded him, a sigh escaping his lips as he fidgeted with the remote in his hand. “If you’re willing to commit and sacrifice being a complete workaholic to make time for a wife and kids, you could...” He was not an idiot. He knew that Bucky wanted the kind of life that he had with Peggy, even if he had denied it countless times before. He could not help but want that for his best friend too. After all, he knew that not only did Bucky want to settle down and have family, but that a part of him also wanted it all with you.

And knowing of your past, Steve wanted that for you too. He knew that you deserved to be unconditionally loved by someone, for you had not experienced unconditional love ever before. He wanted that for you because he understood how much Bucky loved you. If only things did work out in your favor and the two of you finally accepted your feelings for each other. Steve can only hope or sit back and watch, for he was certainly not a meddler of things.

The dark haired doctor let out a sigh before shaking his head, taking another bite of his salad and trying to ignore Steve’s words. “Yeah, well... that’s not what I want.” He lied, even though a part of him knew that the other could see right through his bullshit. “I mean, I do love her but... I don’t think she’d ever love me back, Steve. I know for a fact that she won’t ever accept me. So if it’s not her, then it won’t be anyone else.”

Before Steve could even say anything in response to that, the door burst open with a rather annoyed Peggy Carter entering the doctor’s lounge. “I got your text, darling, and I must admit that I’m not surprised at all.” She announced, plopping down on the sofa next to her husband. “Hello, Barnes.”

“Peggy.” He gave her a nod, continuing to pick at his salad before taking another bite.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“Her cousin Sharon wanted to get her some lunch. She had just woken up from a nap when I picked her up from daycare. Seemed a little cranky because she was hungry.” The woman replied with a shrug. “And I didn’t think she should be here when we’re talking about this, you know? Sharon said she’ll bring her back in an hour or so. Gives us enough time to talk, you know?”

Bucky grew confused at her words and raised his eyebrows at Steve. “Talking about what?”

Peggy turned around to look at Steve. “Have you told him yet, Steve? Because he sure does look too calm to know what happened.”  

Steve let out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes. “I’m way too tired to deal with how he would react so I thought I’d wait until you were here. You’re better at breaking this kind of bad news than I am.” This was partially true. Being a doctor, a cardiothoracic surgeon at that, Dr. Rogers had certainly been trained on how to deliver bad news to his patients. Most of the time, such bad news included the unforeseeable factors: the patient’s condition receding beyond the surgeon’s control, surgical complications and even death.

But with what Steve was forced to deal with at that moment, though certainly not as bad as patient death, it was Peggy who was much more equipped to deal with such dilemmas. She was a Cambridge-educated attorney who happened to work at one of the most reputable law firms in New York. She was certainly used to dealing with extortion cases, not to mention that you had also approached her for legal advice on becoming an organ donor to your abusive father.

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked as he sat up on the sofa and set down his food, turning over to look at his best friend’s wife. “Peggy, what is it?”

Peggy let out a sigh as she sat back in her seat. “I’ll tell you but I want you to promise me that you won’t go off on a complete fit of rage or do anything absolutely stupid.”

He let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. “If this has something to do with Y/N, then I'm not making any promises I know I can't keep.” He told her before turning to Steve. “Did she tell you something? Did she... tell you what happened with her mother?”

Steve bit down on his bottom lip before leaning forwards in his seat. “Her mother... told her that her decision to come forward and donate her liver to her father lead to... them having hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills. And now she’s emotionally blackmailing Y/L/N to pay for them because they couldn’t afford the surgery.”

To say that Bucky was completely unsurprised by this revelation would be an understatement. After all, this had exactly been his suspicion ever since he had found out about your parents coming down to Brooklyn Hospital in the first place. They had not come searching for better medical treatment from Dr. Romanoff. They had come in search of a way to extort money from you. But finding out that your mother’s attempt at extortion was the reason behind you bleeding out like that only made the man feel angrier at your parents. But he did not show it. “I mean, I saw that coming.” He said with a shrug, returning to his salad.

His calm and composed reaction made Steve and Peggy turn to look at each other for a moment.

“What?” Steve asked, blankly.

“I got suspicious.” Bucky replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “When Y/N told me that her formerly abusive slash estranged father was admitted here, I was... a little surprised. I knew she was from this small town near Philadelphia so, how in the world did they manage to get all the way to Brooklyn, let alone at the hospital where their daughter worked? I mean, it all did seem like a coincidence but... I didn’t think that there was any way that they did not know... that their daughter worked there. I... had no reason to trust her parents, right? And I was... right. I mean, they tracked her down... they came here... and I don’t think a liver transplant was what they came looking for. I think they came here to tie Y/N down... emotionally... and try to get money from her to pay for the outstanding medical bills that they have in Philly. But their plan didn’t work. Y/N volunteered to get tested because she... has a heart. She cared about doing the right thing and being the better person. She cares... about... everyone but herself, even her abusive parents. When Y/N volunteered to get tested, do you remember what happened, Steve? Her mother wouldn’t even accept it at first, because she knew that the surgery would mean more medical bills and they weren’t financially stable. She’d just lost her job and they don’t have insurance. Y/N had to get Romanoff to explain how long they would have to wait until UNOS found him a match just so that she would agree. This has been their motive all along... to get money from her. Because they... went bankrupt when Y/N was a little kid and the mom had to work as a maid to keep things going, dad drank away all of their money and now that mom doesn’t have a job anymore, hey... look, the child we abused who ran away from us is working as a doctor in New York and making six figures so why don’t we just go over there and do what we always did best... emotionally abuse her and get her to pay us a large amount?” He could not help but roll his eyes, huffing as he leaned back in his seat. “Fucking pieces of shit, they are...”

Peggy Carter’s eyes grew so wide at Bucky’s speech that Steve almost feared that they might have popped right out of her skull. “Holy shit, Barnes.” She covered her mouth as her jaw dropped. As a mother to a little girl herself, she could not understand how anyone could put their own child in such a situation. To say that she was disgusted by your parents would be an understatement. She was beyond glad that you had managed to break free from their abuse when you did, but the fact that they were still very a part of your life at that moment pissed her off. She needed to find a solution to all of this and make sure that they never bothered you again.

“How do you know all of this?” Steve asked. “How do you know about them going bankrupt when she was a kid and that she ran away from their abuse?” After all, he was well aware that you had not disclosed these events of your past to anyone but him and his wife. He knew of your circumstances with your parents, because he was your emergency contact. You had told Peggy in case there was a legal dilemma to your decision. You wanted to ensure that the fact that you had reported their abuse all those years ago did not get in the way of you donating your liver now. But how did Bucky know all of this? Steve had no idea.

“Yeah, the whole ‘outstanding medical bills in Philly’ thing is news to the both of us.” She agreed, looking at her husband before turning over to his best friend. “I don’t think she intended to tell anyone about this, not even to Steve and I. And... as much as I would like to believe that she trusted you enough to tell you any of this, I think she would have at least told us that you were also aware of her past. But we know Y/N and she wouldn’t have just told you any of this that easily. So, let’s just cut to the chase... What did you do, Bucky?”

The blonde haired doctor’s eyes grew wide as he realized the change of tone in his wife’s voice, for he knew that this was the tone she often used in court. “Bucky... please don’t tell me that you...” A part of him did know what his friend might have done, but he still refused to believe it until he admitted it himself.

“I got Becca to look into her parents.” He confessed.

“Bucky!”

“Are you insane?!” The hospital’s in-house attorney exclaimed, her British accent rolling off of her tongue with such ease and poise despite the fact that she was fuming at the man’s actions. “You fucking hired a PI to look into a patient?! Do you even realize how many potential lawsuits could possibly come out of that?”

“You violated Y/N’s privacy, Buck!” Dr. Rogers added, shaking his head in a slight disappointment. “How do think she’d feel if she ever found out what you’ve done? She’s already got a lot of trust issues and you’re not making this any easier for yourself!”

“I mean, I had to do what I had to do!” The dark haired doctor defended himself. “I get it, Steve. I violated her privacy by hiring Becca to look into her parents and her abusive childhood with them. Sure, she might hate me for it. I don’t care. I only did it because I care about her, Steve. I knew that something wasn’t right when her parents showed up at the hospital. As much as I wasn’t okay with her donating her liver, I respected her decision and her bodily autonomy. She had the right to do whatever the fuck she wanted and I had no say in that whatsoever. But that did not stop me from being suspicious about her parents. I mean, I couldn’t ask her because she wouldn’t tell me. I knew that you knew a lot more about her past than any of us, Steve. Of course, she tells you everything. But is she going to tell me if I asked? Not even a chance. And are you going to tell me if I asked you what was up with her and her parents? Also no, because you’re the most righteous human being on this entire fucking planet who cares about honor and all that bullshit and you trained your God damn fellow to be just as honorable and righteous and follow in your footsteps... which has now cost her a piece of her liver and a whole lot of blood.” Bucky paused to take a breath before turning over to Peggy. “And of course, you knew everything too, Peggy. Y/N told me that she came to you for legal advice, just in case. But I also knew not to ask you either, because you would have given me a whole lecture about attorney-client privilege and I saved us all a hell of lot of time by just going ahead and hiring Becca to do the work for me.”

Steve let out a sigh as he stood up from his seat. “I need a cup of coffee.” He announced as he walked over to the kitchenette and started to make himself a cup.

“Can you also make me a cup of tea, please darling?” Peggy asked Steve as she rubbed her temples, her eyes not leaving Bucky’s. “You’re insane, Barnes. You’re absolutely insane and you know that. And to even call you the godfather of my child, good lord, what have we done? You’ll be such a terrible influence on her when she’s older, I’m sure of it.”

Dr. Barnes finished the last of his salad and nodded, chuckling softly at her remark. “I know, Peggy. They say that love makes you crazy... and I’ve been doing some pretty crazy things lately. I won’t even deny it.” This was true. After all, Bucky had been doing more than just sit at your bedside while you were asleep. A week after he had found out about your make shift clinic at the homeless shelter, he had made an anonymous donation of a million dollars to the shelter in hopes that a part of it would be able to fund your cause. And for the next two years, he would go on to do much crazier things when it came to you.

Whether it was buying an extra cup of coffee every morning and bringing it over to you just to see you give him a sleepy smile in gratitude, or waiting for you to get out of surgery every other night and lying about a late night craving for Indian food just so that he could give you a ride home, there were certain things that he had started to do that would make anyone think he was crazy. But to him, it was all a part of him trying to become a better person, because you had made him want to be a better person.

Even last year, he had startled the entire surgical department meeting by suggesting a fundraising gala to help raise money to increase the number of pro bono surgeries that were being performed at the hospital. Chief Stark had been surprised that Dr. Barnes had been the one to even make that suggestion; his bet would have been on Rogers. But without much debate, the gala had been approved by the hospital’s board of directors. Tony had put Bucky in charge of throwing the ball itself, which the man had surprisingly managed to pull off.

James Barnes had made yet another generous donation to his own cause this time, while also convincing his three sisters in helping him organize the event so that others could also take part in the act of giving back. He had approached his retired parents in hopes that their contacts could help him find more sponsors. And thanks to you, he had hired the lovely Indian couple who owned the restaurant you had been living above to cater the event. The rest of the event had been paid by him, with some of the doctors also pitching in.

It had been a rare occurrence for Dr. James Barnes to take part is such formal events, so there was no denying that his attempts at organizing one and showing up at that was quite refreshing to see. He had donned a designer tuxedo, his luscious long hair coiffed into a neat bun. He looked prim and proper, to say the least.

But if one had observed him rather closely that night, they would have noticed that his bright blue eyes were constantly darting towards the entrance throughout the whole event. Even when he had taken to the stage to make a speech and had commanded the attention of an entire banquet hall, no one had noticed how his gaze was constantly wandering towards the double doors that led his guests inside. Perhaps no one except Wanda Maximoff was able to figure out that this entire event had been Bucky Barnes’ attempt at channelling his inner Jay Gatsby.

The bottles of champagne had been popped, poured into flutes and emptied long before, dinner and dessert served promptly thereafter. It was not until after the DJ had opened up the dance floor did James finally receive the long-awaited arrival of the woman he loved. And in an instant, his lips curled into a smile at the sight of you in your silver-grey evening gown. He knew that the shimmer and sequins were very unlike you, but he appreciated the effort you had taken to follow the dress code.

As you noticed the host of the evening upon your entrance and made your way towards the dance floor to greet him, you could not help but notice that he cleaned up quite well, in his tuxedo and his hair in a bun. Oh how attractive he looked in that bun, you could not deny it. You rarely saw him put his hair up, except for that one time when he had showed up to a consult with his hair tied up with a Hello Kitty hair-tie a while back.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of how handsome he looked that evening and you quickly shooed away your thoughts, walking up to him with a bright smile. “James, hey... I’m so sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to miss the dinner and half of the party. I had a last minute consult at the ER and I had to do an Endarterectomy. It took longer than expected and by the time I got home, showered and got ready... it took me a while. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” His smile was genuine and one that brought you a sense of calm. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it, things like that are not always in our hands. I wasn’t even sure if you’d show up, to be honest. I know that... social events like these are not really your thing. At least I’m glad you decided to spend the rest of your evening here instead of being cooped up in your little clinic. It means a lot, doll, really... thank you for being here.” He bit down on his bottom lip rather nervously as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. It was an act of politeness to say the least, a sign of gratitude that you had even bothered to show up late than never, even though you did have an excuse to not be there.

You felt your cheeks heat up once more, a sense of warmth in your heart as you felt his lips against your cheek. There was something gentle about the way his warm breath lingered against your skin, but you quickly looked down to hide the blush. You could not help but grin widely at his understanding nature and you looked around the ball room.

It seemed as though a majority of the guests had already left. The DJ had been playing a slow song and naturally, Steve and Peggy were at the center of the dance floor. You must have heard a thousand times during your bi-weekly dinners with the Rogers’ of the story of their first date and their first dance. Even after years of being married, the two of them still looked so in love. You could not help but want that for yourself. But you felt slightly greedy for it. After all, you had always believed that you did not deserve to be loved by anyone.

The blonde haired doctor noticed your gaze on him and gave you a wave, his wife still leant against his shoulder as they swayed along to the song. You chuckled, shooting him a quick thumbs up before turning to James. “Looks like you’ve really pulled this off, Dr. Barnes.” You noted, seeing that the gala had been quite the success. “I must say that I’m impressed.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help though, doll, thanks to you and your undying loyalty to the Singh’s.” He politely remarked. “The food’s a big hit- hey; have you even had a chance to eat anything since you got out of your surgery?” It had taken Bucky a moment to realize that it was way past dinner time and knowing you and the way you had rushed to get here after your surgery, you might not have eaten.

“Um... no.” You shook your head.

“Come on, let’s get you in the kitchen and grab you some of that delicious food.” It had been a rather impulsive move on his part, when he had just casually grabbed your hand and lead you away from the dance floor.

You had been caught off guard by his actions but you paid no heed to them anyways. You had assumed that it was just his way of being a host, making sure that all of his guests were well fed and taken care of. After all, you had paid for your ticket to attend this gala and he probably just wanted to give you your money’s worth. You would not have imagined that his actions were a sign of his undying love for you.

He walked out of the ball room before turning down the hallway to where the kitchen was, complimenting and thanking a few of the wait staff along the way before entering the kitchen.

You stood at the door, watching as he made his way over to the head chef who was also your landlord. He really was a wonder of a man, you thought. How thoughtful and kind had he really been, for as long as you’ve known him? To think that the two of you had managed to not get along in the OR at some point seemed to surprise you. But that fall out had only made the two of you become the closer. There was no denying that.

After asking the woman to fix you a plate of food, he walked back to you with a cheeky grin on his face. “I told them to set aside your plate in case you showed up. They’ll just reheat it in a moment.”

You could not help but let out a chuckle at that, raising an eyebrow nevertheless. “How did you know that I would even show up though, James?” You asked, curiously. “After all, I do have a tendency to make plans at first and bail on people.”

“I just had a little faith that you would be here... considering that it’s for a good cause and you’re not the kind of person who turns away from doing something to give back.” He replied, grinning widely as he realized that he really did know you well. “Plus, you did pay for the food, the champagne and a little dancing. As a responsible host, I wanted to make sure you did get your money’s worth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you walked past him to enter the kitchen, greeting the lovely Indian chef with a hug before taking the plate from her. “Well... since I’ve got my food here now, where’s my champagne?”

As the banquet was wrapping up, Bucky had excused himself to check on the clean up. The red carpet had been rolled up, the table linens piled up and the chairs stacked neatly on top of one another. The DJ had taken down the speakers and loaded up his equipment in his van, the cleaning staff was busy sweeping the confetti off the hard wooden floor.

You found yourself wafting down your plate of food in the kitchen while the staff got busy with doing the dishes. Chatting away with the lovely Indian woman who continued to pile up the remainder of the food onto your plate, you managed to eat until you were full. You did not realize how hungry you had been until you had eaten second and third helpings of the Singh’s signature biryani, but you were grateful to the woman for wanting to feed you well. After all, this was the closest experience you had to a mother’s love.

James had not returned until an hour later, having sent off the last of his guests home before dealing with the payments for the DJ and the linen rentals. He let Rebecca take care of the rest before excusing himself for the night, grabbing the last remaining bottle of champagne from the fridge before making his way over to you. “Sorry that took a while, doll.” He told you as he chuckled, holding up the bottle. “But I got what you asked for...” He could not help but notice the aluminum tray of food that you were holding and he raised his eyebrow at you.

“What? I had three plates of food but there was still some left over. There was no way I was going to let some good biryani go into the trash. Plus, I figured that you wouldn’t have had a chance to eat anything either, being a good host and all. So, what do you say, we get out of here and find ourselves a really nice late night view of the bridge and... have a little picnic?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him before letting out a laugh.

“I... think I’d like that.”

Bucky was taken by surprise that you had even made this suggestion, but it was not very unlikely of you to be concerned about wasting food or watching someone else go hungry either. Having left the venue of the banquet together, the two of you somehow managed to end up on the roof of your loft home somehow. You had been the one to suggest it though, for you wanted him to see the view from up there.

It was a mid-August night, the air was breezy. You kicked off your heels and sat down on the concrete step as you looked up at the stars. The night was quiet, even though there was the occasional laughter of passerby’s walking past the restaurant that stirred up the silence every now and then.

He had taken off his coat and wrapped it over your shoulder, in case you got cold, a plastic fork in his hand that was picking through the aluminum tray as he ate the food that you had packed up for him. “Did I tell you how lovely you look in that dress, Y/N?”

“Did I tell you how much I like your hair like that, James?” You asked, teasingly. “I have to admit, you clean up real nice.”

“You too.” He chuckled as he took a bite of his food, looking around the neighborhood that he had been so familiar with when he had been younger, but now he felt like a stranger. After Steve had moved in with him, he rarely came down to this part of town. While it was home to his best friend, to him it had been an insignificant part of Brooklyn, at least until you had moved here. Nowadays, it seemed that he came by this neighborhood every few days whenever he’d offered you a ride home and to see that these trips only made him miss his former nanny would be an understatement.

He missed her dearly, for the woman had raised him as her own. He knew that it was people like her who needed the care and concern of people like him. It was why he had thrown this gala in the first place, not even Steve knew about how close this was for Bucky.

Perhaps if Sarah Rogers had the money to afford the best care in Brooklyn, her doctors would not have managed to misdiagnose her with pneumonia. Her cancer could have been caught sooner and she might be alive. These pro bono surgeries were just a way for him to prevent such tragic deaths that could have been easily avoided.

You popped the bottle of champagne, laughing heartily at the fizz that spilled slightly on your gown. But you could care less about it. “You first.” You told him as you held the bottle towards him.

Taking the bottle from you and taking a swing, he turned over to look at you with a smile. “Why do you still live here, Y/N?” He asked you, curiously. “You’re not a fellow anymore. You’re a board certified cardiothoracic surgeon and a good one at that. I’m sure you can afford a nicer apartment with the amount you get paid.”

“I mean, I could... but I don’t really want to leave my little loft.” You replied, shrugging as you took the bottle from him and took a sip. “It’s been my first real home in forever, James. It’s the first place that I moved into... that wasn’t a campus dorm or a sorority house. It wasn’t supposed to be some kind of temporary accommodation.” Like a foster home. “I mean, I could find myself a bigger apartment but... it’s just me. I don’t take up that much space. I don’t like taking up too much space. I’m fine living here. It’s nice and cozy. It’s home.”

“But aren’t you worried about the safety hazards, Y/N? You live above a restaurant, the stairs are too narrow. In case of an emergency, you won’t be able to get out quickly.” He noted.

You let out a sigh as you handed him the bottle. “You know, after spending a cold winter night in the street... any other place can feel the safest.” You admitted, biting down on your bottom lip. “Plus, I work so much that I’m barely home anyways. It’s fine, James. I’m fine here.”

“Alright... if that’s what you say so.” He nodded, giving in since he knew that he could not change your mind that easily, taking a sip of the champagne before setting it down for a moment. He set down his tray and stood up from his seat on the step. “Anyways, I think the roof has enough space for just the two of us.” He remarked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “And I think I owe you a little dance. So if you wouldn’t mind, Dr. Y/N/N... shall we?””

You could not help but roll your eyes at that. “I believe you do.” You remarked as you stood up, brushing off the back of your dress before slipping back into your heels.

Bucky put on a song before setting down his phone, holding out his hand with a bow of his head. “M’Lady.”

You giggled softly as you tried your best at a curtsey, only to trip over your gown and grab onto the man’s hand as you laughed.

He let out a hearty laugh as he helped you regain your balance, his arm wrapped around your waist as he began to slowly sway along to the music.

You blushed slightly as you held onto him, your ear pressed gently against his chest, the sound of his beating heart bringing you a sense of solace as the song began.

You look so wonderful in your dress I love your hair like that The way it falls on the side of your neck Down your shoulders and back We are surrounded by all of these lies And people who talk too much You got the kind of look in your eyes As if no one knows anything but us Should this be the last thing I see I want you to know it's enough for me 'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need I'm so in love, so in love So in love, so in love You look so beautiful in this light Your silhouette over me The way it brings out the blue in your eyes Is the Tenerife Sea And all of the voices surrounding us here They just fade out when you take a breath Just say the word and I will disappear Into the wilderness Should this be the last thing I see I want you to know it's enough for me 'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need I'm so in love, so in love So in love, so in love

 “Well, the fact that you deliberately admitted that only makes me wonder what kind of crazy thing you’re about to do next, Barnes.” Peggy noted as she took her steaming cup of tea from her husband. “Because I know that look on your face. You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Bucky let out a chuckle as he stood up from his seat, tossing away the container that had held his salad in the trash can before walking over to his locker. “I’m not planning anything, Peggy. I’m just... coming up with a solution to Y/N’s dilemma.” He told her with a shrug as he retrived his lab coat and put it on over his scrubs.

“Also known as planning.” Steve clarified as he sat down next to his wife and took a sip of his coffee. “Spill it, you punk. What are you going to do?”

“Well, right now... I’m going to go down to the pediatrics ward because Clint asked me to cover his shift for the afternoon.” Rolling his eyes, Dr. Barnes grabbed his stethoscope that hung on the hook in his locker. He turned around to look at Peggy for a moment. “Peggy, out of curiosity, how long will it take for you to draft a contract?”

The lawyer gave him a confused look. “It really depends on what the terms on this contract will be?”

“How about something along the lines of... ‘by accepting these two million dollars and an additional allowance of three grand’s per month... we, the Y/L/N’s agree that we will leave our estranged daughter alone for the rest of her life, we’ll never try to contact her and we won’t try to extort any more money from her,’ or something like that?” He asked her, smirking as he tossed his stethoscope over his neck and crossed his arms against his chest.

“Bucky, no.”

“I pay off her dad’s medical bills and give them a little extra so that they don’t come crawling back to her ever again.” Bucky stated with a shrug. “Steve, you and I both know what Y/N does with her hard-earned money. This clinic is... her everything. If she pays them off, she won’t be able to keep it going. I don’t think I can let that be taken away from her.”

Steve let out a sigh as he pondered Bucky’s suggestion for a moment. “As much as I agree with you, Buck, this isn’t your call to make. It’s hers. And even if she did find out about you wanting to do this, you know she won’t let you. Hell, she wouldn’t even let me pay them off when I offered to do it this morning.”

“She... doesn’t need to know, Steve. That’s why I’m telling the two of you. Peggy drafts a contract; I write a cheque, the Y/L/N’s sign the contract and take the money that they came for. Y/N will be happy once they are out of her life for good and that’s all that fucking matters.”

“But... Bucky, what even is the point of you doing all of this if Y/L/N doesn’t even find out about it?”

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 82/82 Epilogue AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:   Also on AO3 click here

Quite a few years later

You held your children’s hands as you headed for the park on the Avenger’s Compound grounds for the monthly get together.  Most of the team and their significant others had moved from the tower in the city to the compound and it’s acres of land.  Happy and the Iron Legion still kept up a presence in the tower, as there were still people who looked for the Avengers, or for refuge or safety, in the tower.  All of your old rooms were still open to you as well, for times that you needed time and space to yourself, as well as to maintain a presence in the city proper.

Not that you needed that often, if ever.  

You lived with Loki and your children in a house on the compound’s grounds, inside the security of Stark’s defenses, but you had your own space away from the team as well.  It was a safe place to raise your pups. 

You also spent quite a lot of time on Asgard as you and the pups were all welcome there.  Wolves were cherished on Asgard after all.  

“Hurry up, mama!” Sylvie, your daughter, demanded as she tugged on your hand.  She was so excited her wolf ears popped out from her amber hair. She gave orders with such bossiness and an air of expecting to be obeyed, that you were certain that she was going to be an Alpha when she grew up.  

You laughed and squeezed her hand.  “We’ll be there soon enough, don’t fret, darling,” you told her fondly.  She was headstrong and so full of energy.  Definitely a puppy still. “You’re not going to miss any of our friends,”

“Will papa make it back in time?” Your son asked from your other side.  Unlike his older sister, he was shy and reserved, curled tightly around your arm. He looked nearly identical to Loki, with the same pale skin, raven hair, and emerald eyes.  There was a happiness in his eyes and a love and acceptance that had too often been missing from Loki’s before he’d come to know you.  You heard as much from Loki, Thor, and Frigga too often. You never wanted your son to know that sorrow or you Loki to ever know it again.  Not now that he was finally accepted.

“I’m sure he will, Lucian,” you told the son who was already an omega.  You’d known from the second he was born what he was.  Omegas were always born to it.  Most alphas were as well, but it wasn’t quite as obvious until they were older. “He’s going to bring Uncle Thor, Aunt Sif, and Torun with him too,” you replied.  Thor and Sif had gotten married and had a daughter, who was around the same age as the pups.  

“Rune’s coming?” Sylvie demanded, lighting up to see her cousin. 

You nodded and laughed. “Yes, and cousin Morgan and the twins,” you replied, naming Stark’s daughter and Wanda’s kids.  Sylvie laughed and skipped the rest of the way to where the picnic would be held.  

Lucian helped you and the rest of the team set up.  Steve was grilling burgers nearby and you got picnic tables and blankets set up for your afternoon.  Sylvie and Luci started chasing each other around in the field, out of the adults’ way.

They ran over to you when the bifrost lights lit in the sky and held your hands as the bifrost came down to earth and opened to reveal Loki, Thor, Sif, and their daughter.  They ran over to hug Loki, who swept them both up into his arms with a laugh.  He was so relaxed and excited and so very happy.  

You made your way over to him more slowly and he leaned down to kiss you when you were within reach.  “Welcome home, Lo,” you greeted him warmly while the pups giggled at the kiss.  The pups knew nothing but love and happiness and you kept it that way.

“I missed you, little wolf,” Loki replied, though he’d only been gone a couple of days to help his mother with something back home.  Loki leaned down to steal another kiss and set the pups down so they could run off with Rune to go play.  

You hugged Thor and Sif before you took Loki’s hand to drag him to the others.  He was finally comfortable with the team, finally feeling like he was part of them and accepted, but he still put on shows about having to spend time with them.  Usually.  Today he didn’t, because he was just getting back from Asgard.

The whole team met once a month to catch up and reconnect, to relax and spend time together, to put the worry of being an Avenger aside and just be the found family that you were.  You’d all spread out some since you were no longer all all living in the tower together, especially now that you had kids.  

Clint showed up with his wife and kids. Wanda, Vision and the twins came next.  Stark, Pepper and Morgan arrived.  Bucky, Nat, and Cap were the staples around the compound, the ones without kids.

You ate together and laughed together and after the meal, sat together by the lake enjoying drinks while you watched the children play.  Most of you couldn’t get drunk, so the children were perfectly safe.  You curled in Loki’s arms watching as your children shifted to wolf and back as they played a game of chase with the humans.  Loki had given them charms as well so they would have clothes when they turned human.  

Loki pressed a kiss to your hair and you looked up at him, purring softly.  “What is it, love?” He asked at your expression, his voice full of love and happiness.  

“We have everything we ever wanted,” you replied as you turned your attention back to your little pack, the humans and wolves who made up your pack, your adopted family.  

You were safe, loved, and cherished.  Your husband and children were happy. You were part of something more, an Avenger, an important part of the team.  You had a home on Asgard, a home on Midgard, a family who you loved more than life itself. 

And all was right in the world.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.29

Captured and Caught

04/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,876

Warnings: language, slightly graphic injuries, angst, trauma

A/N: I hope you like this chapter. It had a lot of stuff I wanted to see but this is the final stretch. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are welcome!

Tags are CLOSED!

It feels like a nightmare. Bad luck. A curse.

Just when you hope things are better, they’re exactly that much worse.

The world is intent on making things difficult for you.

It will never be easy.

But here, in this moment, with fear licking at your heels and instinct taking over—you react.

Phin moves towards you, lunges at you. All the blackness in his eyes—the familiar lust you’d hoped you’d left behind tells you what he wants.

Before he can touch you, you reach back in search of what you’d been sure you saw on your way down to the village.

You hope it’s still there.

Cold and wet, but hard and sturdy, the broken wooden hoe has only left its staff. It’s enough.

You swing it forward with all the strength you can muster and are rewarded with a resounding THWACK as the wooden rod breaks against Phin’s forearm and the side of his head.

He grunts, pained by the hit, but it sends him staggering to his right and you begin to inch to yours, rounding about his left to put you closer to your old cottage only a short sprint away.

So close. Steve is so close.

“Stay away from me.” You tell Phin, voice shaking despite the strength of your attack.

Phin still terrifies you and your body is still catching up to that. Your desire to protect your little one outweighing the fear and panic.

“You little bitch!” Phin growls, spitting onto the soggy ground a nice thick stream of vibrant red.

“I’m warning you, Phin. Stay back, or I’ll fetch my husband and he'll finish what I started.” You adjust your grip on what remains of the wooden staff, broken and sharp now, you could just stab him.

You can’t.

You will if he comes close. If he threatens the safety of your Prince. You will murder him if necessary.

However, as Queen of Broklin now, you shouldn’t.

“Husband?” Phin sneers, moving a step towards you as he lowers his large arms to swing threateningly at his side. “Who would want to marry you?”

You understand what he means, but he goes on. Insulting you, but you don’t care. As long as he stays away.

“No smart man is gonna want an orphaned trollop.” He seethes, visibly angered by your assault.

“I never gave you anything.” You tell him, you were a maid for Steve and you’ll not have anyone contest that truth. “You tried to take. But I beat you then and I’ll beat you now, Phin.

“I’m more than the girl I was.

“But you’ll always be a foul, loathsome, rapist. If you know what is good for you, you will turn around and go back home. Leave me be. Or you’ll regret it even more than you already do.” You offer, taking another step to your right putting you closer to the cottage.

Phin laughs as if he can’t take your threat seriously. As if you’re a joke.

His gaze goes dark again and he lunges towards you as you raise your makeshift spear. He halts, feet stuck to the ground as his eyes travel over your head towards your little run-down cottage.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Steve’s deep voice wonders.

You don’t dare turn your back on Phin to check on Steve but you’re sure he’s there, being as threatening as he can in the state he’s currently in.

“I’m here.” You tell him, voice flooded with relief and joy that Steve heard your commotion with Phin.

There’s still a small quake of fear as you begin to calm, and you know that Steve will hear it and worry. In this instance, you are more than alright with his fretting.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks.

“No one.” You say quickly. “He’s nobody.”

The intent is clear. Insulting. Malicious. You hope he feels like nothing, just as he made you feel time and again before your life changed.

“Hmm.” Steve says, playing for time. “Well, come inside my petal, it’s freezing.

You finally look at him and nearly faint at the exquisite sight of him in his torn and dirty tunic, white shirt frayed at the seams.

Despite his tattered appearance, he’s a vision.

His wide shoulders still fill the space and as he ducks underneath the doorway—Steve is too tall for the opening.

“Thanks for stopping by, Nobody, but I must ask you to leave my wife and I in peace.” Steve says, almost echoing the casual venom you used yourself earlier.

You move quickly into the box of Steve’s extended arm. As soon as you’re in reach, he caresses the back of your head, neck, then his hand slides down to the small of your back as he moves with you inside.

Dropping your parcels on the ratty bed, you hunch over, pressing your hand to your tummy as you wait for the world to stop spinning.

“Are you alright?” Steve asks, moving to you, intent on putting his hands on your back again.

However, he’s still not well and you’re quick to turn before he can touch you.

“I’m perfect. Get back into bed while I make us something to eat.” You chastise him.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to be in bed.” He argues, his jaw tight in rebellion.

“Steve, please?” You don’t have the inner strength to be stern with him after meeting Phin so unexpectedly.

“You’re not alright.” He says, reaching out with his hand to cup your cheek but once more you stop him, taking hold of it and pushing it down.

“I’m a little startled. I wasn’t expecting to see him so suddenly.” You admit.

Steve watches you for a moment, storm blue eyes intent on every miniscule shift in your expression.

Slowly he inhales. You search his own face and find a quiet fury building in him.

“Steve…”

“It was him, wasn’t it? The guy that tried to-” Despite hating that someone else had hurt you, you can see the guilt in Steve’s eyes.

He’s still torturing himself over your wedding night and probably every night after that when he’d used your body, refusing to accept you as his wife.

“He’s gone. Please let it go. If he comes back then I will not protest your defending my honor, and our little one. But you’re still injured. And we must lay low. We can’t afford to call attention to ourselves.” Turning around you undo the twine wrapped around the largest parcel.

Pulling his new trousers out from the stack of clothes you’d purchased for both of you, you hold them up then turn back to face him and hold the pants against his waist.

They’re just the right size! A smile creeps onto your lips, smug and proud that you’d assessed Steve’s size correctly.

“I’ll heat you some water. You can take a quick washing and then change into these new clothes. We’ll both need some cleaning up.” You ponder the amount of water you’ll need, and you’ll have to take two trips. You’ll send Steve to bathe first, then you’ll wash yourself quickly.

Moving to the cauldron with its broken handle, you manage to lift it, but a light smacking sound draws your gaze behind you.

Steve is already there, taking the large basin from you.

“Doctor Selvig advised you to take care. I’m fairly certain lifting cauldrons full of water would be the direct opposite of that.” Steve tells you, annoyed with your refusal to rest.

“Steve-”

“And we’ll bathe together. I will have you within my sights until we are back in the safety of our castle, or your father’s.” He leaves no room for argument as he tucks the large cauldron under his left arm and then reaches down to take hold of your hand. “How will we do this?”

Waiting for you to instruct him, he stands looking down at you, his hand squeezing yours every few seconds.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” You tell him, lips curling up at the corners.

“And you’re mine.” Steve gives your hand another squeeze. “Where to my flower?”

With a sigh you remove your hand from his to wrap the clothing you’d purchased up one more time, then tuck the package beneath your arm and take his hand again.

“There’s a river close by. We’ll bring the water back, heat it up, and I’ll set down some hay in the corner so that we can bathe in the warmth of the cottage.” You explain.

“To the river then.” Steve declares and pulls you from your home.

With Steve at your side, it’s hard to feel unsafe. Not only is he large and imposing, but he takes such great care to make sure that you are alright.

He makes sure you’re seated comfortably on an old fallen tree before he wades into the edges of the river and scoops up way more water than you would have.

This way, the two of you will not have to make more than one trip. The water will take longer to heat but you’ll take that over trudging out here in the cold again.

“I bought us enough food for two days.” You tell him, sure that it’s enough. “We won’t have to come out again until then, and we’ll go hunting instead of back into the village when the time comes. I think staying out of everyone’s notice is in our best interest.”

“I agree.” Steve nods, holding the cauldron steady as it fills. “If it was Pierce behind the attack—both of them, and I’m sure he was—then he will not give up so easily. He’ll send scouts.”

“You would think that he’d be ashamed to do it.” You frown, hating Pierce with a passion after the fear he made Bucky strike within your heart.

Your son had almost lost his life before he was even here. If Bucky had succeeded, even though it was clear that he’d been under someone else’s influence, you would not have been able to forgive him.

Steve shakes his head. “Pierce cares only what the Kingdom can do for his pocket. He wants the prestige. He wants the glory.”

“Being a King is not glorious. Not always.” You agree.

Steve smiles softly, still watching the water.

“No.” He agrees. “It isn’t. Sometimes we must make terrible decisions. We make choices and must stand by them.”

“Like when you chose to marry me?” You offer.

Steve’s head whips up, his eyes searching your face for any sign of pain or distress.

“Choosing to marry you was the best decision I have ever made, in my life.” He assures you.

“But it didn’t feel like that when you made it.” You remind him.

He sighs heavily, standing up, his wide shoulders slumped a bit as he holds the heavy cauldron. “No. It didn’t.”

“You’re worried I’m upset.” You realize, getting up from your spot and moving towards him.

“No.” He says, holding his hand out towards you. “The water’s cold, stay there.”

You ignore him and move to the very edge, the toes of your fancy shoes resting just out of reach.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think on us, Steve. You made what you thought was the correct choice for your Kingdom. No one with any common sense would fault you for that. And what happened between us in the beginning is in the past.

“It was very painful, and it taught me that one might plan for something and find that it doesn’t go at all how one expects. I am cautioned now. And I also know that when offered a challenge, I can rise to it and weather the struggle—mostly. I did run away.” You smile.

Steve doesn’t return it and instead seems to pout. Unintentionally, but still, that lower lip of his protrudes just a bit and you resist every urge in your body pushing you towards him to capture those pink lips between your teeth.

“Oh, my love.” You chuckle. “When will you believe me that I do not regret our beginnings?”

“I regret them for you.” Steve tells you, still pouting. “I married you and made you my Queen. I should have treated you like one.”

You chuckle again and open your arms for him, your small belly protruding through the open cloak.

His eyes wander down to it and you can almost see the excitement flare up in his eyes.

It sends flutters into your chest and nearly takes your breath away. But he makes the choice to go to you.

As he hoists the cauldron up and begins to move towards you, a shift in the trees behind him catches your eye and you start, alert.

“What is it?” He asks, aware of your sudden panic.

He turns to look at what you see but there’s nothing there now.

“We should get back.” You whisper, almost certain that you’d seen someone watching.

As Steve takes your hand and you both begin the walk back to your little dilapidated cottage, you can’t help but wonder how truly safe you are here. You were never safe before…and nothing seems to have changed.

“Are they here?” Tony asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he picks up his golden crown—shining red rubies sparkling at Nat as she stands up from having just woke him.

“They’re approaching the gate.” She assures him, as tony springs from his comfortable cushioned chair.

Nat gives Bucky a glance, just a lump underneath many blankets in her room. No other place would do. She’d insisted once she’d woken up to find everyone gone, searching for you and Steve.

“If I must stay here, then I’m going to have him in my room where I can keep both eyes on him and make sure that you or your guards can finish what you started years ago.”

Tony had of course been offended. He hadn’t tried to kill Bucky in years! And he’d given his word…Doing right by you meant doing right by Steve. He couldn’t go around killing his best friend.

She follows Tony, watching the way he nervously adjusts his lush red velvet robe. His boots fall heavily with his drowsiness against the pale stones of his floor.

Nat smiles. Just a little. It’s amusing, how much he looks forward to meeting with the Wakandans. Especially their Princess. She seems to be of particular interest to him.

Nat knows why. It had been them that had crafted Bucky’s first arm. The skill she used, the way she wielded metal somehow seemed to have a power over it to make it do as she wished was something Tony greatly admired.

“Open the gate.” Tony says loudly and there’s a scramble of guards as they rush to open doors as he goes.

There’s a clatter of hooves as the gates are thrown open and through it marches six large black horses pulling the largest of Tony’s carriages. Behind it is a smaller cart with reinforced wheels, packed heavily with cases and boxes made of steel and iron of the likes that Tony has never seen.

His heart beats rapidly with excitement at the contents that those boxes may contain.

As the carriage rolls to a stop, there’s a flurry of movement as the coachmen dismount to open the doors.

Tony waves over a few of the burlier servants and gestures at the cart behind the carriage.

“Get those down to the first dungeon. And take their trunks to the third-floor rooms, by the Southern tower.” He orders.

Nat and Tony watch the open carriage door until first emerges a tall man in beautiful blue and black silks. The intricate pattern along the neckline—an array of angled triangles and squares—is beautifully stitched. The elegant lines of this man’s dress only enhances the warm umber tone of his skin and the piercing dark of his eyes. The otherwise gentle flow of the fabric is hidden underneath a thick black cloak, silver thread along the hem and neckline.

As he alights, the man bows his head at Tony and Tony returns the gesture. He struts over to the man and holds out his hand who graciously takes it and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Your Majesty, King T’Challa.” Tony says, his reverence clear. This is a man and a kingdom he admires.

“King Anthony, Tony.” T’Challa replies.

The two of them smile and then chuckle as they quickly embrace.

“My friend.” T’Challa says. “How are you?”

Tony sighs, almost as if he has been waiting for someone to ask this question.

“Much better, now that you’re here.” Tony nods, then looks to the carriage as a petite hand peeks through. “Allow me.”

He moves forward as T’Challa and Nat give their greetings to take Princess Shuri’s hand.

With a firm grip she allows him to lead her down the steps and smiles at him for his kindness. Tony’s eyes shine.

“Good day, Princess Shuri.” He gushes, completely enraptured with her intellect.

“Hello again, your Majesty.” She smiles, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “Well, where is he? Where is the White Wolf?”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought you said he had been beaten to within an inch of his life?” Shuri says, assessing the fading bruises on Bucky’s sleeping face.

“He was.” Nat assures her. “His bruises have begun to fade, and we’ve done the best we could with his arm. Tony removed the remnants of what was left of it. We put them side for you, in case you needed them.”

“I do not need them.” Shuri assures her then takes her finger and presses lightly against the bruising on Bucky’s face. His cuts have healed and have since faded.

Nat had been completely astounded by the miracle of it and then she realized that Hydra must have done more to him than even he knew if he could heal so quickly and not scar.

“He heals fast.” Nat says, hovering by the post footpost of the bed, wringing her hands to release her anxiety.

Shuri’s gaze goes to them and Nat quickly tugs on the bodice of her blue dress before crossing her arms across her chest to keep them out of the way.

“Faster than normal people, I mean.” She clarifies.

Shuri turns back to Bucky and pulls over a small wooden case. She opens it and pulls out what looks like a mirror without the silver. She holds it to where his shoulder sits empty, his arm gone.

“How long has he been unconscious?” Shuri asks, and once again Nat begins to wring her hands. This time, she doesn’t attempt to hide her worry.

“It’s been at least two weeks.” She says in a quiet whisper.

Shuri sighs. “I’ll need to know everything. From when he began his attack to the moment he was brought to submission.”

Getting up, she turns to look at Tony and carefully covers Bucky’s armless shoulder again.

“Do you have somewhere that I can work?” She closes her box and tucks it underneath her arm.

Solemnly, Tony nods, his eyes on Bucky. Wondering if it’s his fault that he hasn’t woken up.

He’d given him the full force of his chest beam…what if he injured him internally?

Shuri grabs hold of her yellow skirts and moves for the door. Tony right behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Warmth envelops you. Presses against your stomach. There’s a shift there, like a soap bubble popping, but inside. It feels strange.

You hear a chuckle, hearty and happy. The sound of it pleases you so much that you smile despite the sleepy state you find yourself in.

Still mostly unconscious, you reach down towards the warmth on your tummy and you remember as your hands find slightly stiff hair that you’re pregnant.

The popping bubbles make more sense now and you realize that your little prince must be kicking.

Then you remember that Steve is the only one to chuckle just so and you force your eyes open. You need to see him.

You find him looking towards your feet, both of his large hands pressed against the small swell of your stomach. His ear rests against the exposed flesh, your dress gathered up along your waist leaving you exposed.

Maybe you would have protested if the sight before you had not been so sweet? It is still chilly.

However, you can’t bring yourself to complain as you run your fingers through Steve’s hair with a bit more conviction.

He sits up a little, looking down at your belly, cupping it lovingly. Hot gentle lips kiss your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Steve pulls your dress back down, laying it over your legs carefully before he meets your eyes then lays himself back down beside you.

You melt against his chest as he pulls you close, searching for your lips with his own.

You give him what he seeks, and he chuckles as you pucker your lips against his.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He whispers, almost as if he’s still afraid to do so.

“You didn’t wake me.” You assure him. “Our son did.”

You reach down with a free hand while the other holds onto Steve’s shirt front.

“He was moving.” Steve declares, his storm blue eyes shining with glee. “He’s really in there.”

What a funny statement. You chuckle, unable to helps yourself with the innocence of Steve’s realization.

“Of course, he’s in there, my love. Where else would he be?” You laugh again, easy and slowly as you reach up to frame his face.

“I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I might feel him move before he was born.” Steve admits.

For a split second, your heart hurts for him and the family he’s so obviously been desperate to have.

Reminding yourself that finally, with you, he will have it—you pass by the painful thought quickly and settle back on pleasant satisfaction.

“He’s really there.” You promise him.

After a few silent minutes, Steve gently caressing your stomach while you take stock of your current state, your stomach growls and Steve is up before you know what happened.

“Where are you going?” You ask, startled.

“You’re hungry.” Steve points out.

Before he can get too far you catch his wrist and pull him back towards you, tugging him down and he obeys, kneeling beside you on the straw bed.

You tug his shirt up, exposing his ribs and the faded scar. He doesn’t fight you, letting you fuss over him. Probably enjoying it.

“It’s so much better.” You gasp.

Steve chuckles.

“I’m sorry, I’m still not used to it.” You admit, shaking your head a little as you lower his shirt again.

You stroke his cheekbone, tracing the lines you’d memorized over the last two weeks where black and blue had mixed on his peach skin.

It had taken these bruises so much longer to heal than the last he’d gotten, and Steve had surmised that it was because Bucky was different.

“What do you mean, different?” You’d asked him, wary.

“He’s changed. I didn’t notice before because we’d kept relatively safe. I’d been so broken up about Margaret’s death and Hydra had gone under after we’d rescued Bucky that we had no reason to seek a fight.

“The few quests we did go one had minimal fighting and I took care of that mostly.” Steve had ignored your frown at the time, refusing to give in to your stress over his throwing himself into harm’s way so readily.

“But what do you mean? Are you saying he’s like you?” You’d supplied, guessing rather well.

“Very much like me. I’m not sure what they did to him, but I don’t think all the did was take his arm. I’m fairly sure they put something else there too. Deep in his head probably. Magics or something of the like.” Steve had gone into silence as he’d mulled over his suspicions and you’d made a mental note to ask Grandmother about magics that could alter one’s mind the way Bucky’s had been changed.

You’re glad his bruising has gone down. No more swelling. Only a faded pink scar reminds you of the beating he’d taken for you.

Steve catches your hand, holding it by the wrist before he pulls you towards him. He wraps one arm around your waist while he continues to hold the other to keep you leaning towards him.

He ducks his head down to reach your lips and kisses you until you’re forced to turn your head to take a breath.

“Steve…” You sigh, laughing nervously. “…you’ll suffocate me.”

He chuckles and gets to his feet. “What will you have for breakfast? Should I go get you a squirrel?”

You frown at him, glancing at the small window that sits mostly covered by an old tattered curtain. There is no light shining in. In fact, it looks absolutely pitch black outside.

“It’s not even morning yet.” You argue.

Steve looks at the window too, hands going to his waist as he stares at the lack of sunlight.

“Guess we overslept a little.” He says, but you know very well that he must have been up for hours.

He’d let you sleep, and when he looks back at you, he’s exuding a quiet worry. He’s trying to hide it from you.

“Steve…” You plead.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked very tired and you’re not eating as much. You’ve lost a little weight.” He sighs. “I need to get you back to Tony’s castle.”

“It’s too dangerous.” You shake your head. “We’ll wait another two weeks and then we’ll go. They’ll have moved on by then.”

“We don’t even know if they’re here.” Steve argues. “The last we heard they were two towns over.”

“And that isn’t very far.” You point out. “They will come through here, I know it.”

Steve sighs heavily, frustration sweeping off of him in rolls as he flexes his jaw. He wants you to eat well. He wants you healthy. But he can’t control the stress you’re under. The fear that you feel at every moment that you will be found by Hydra and that they’ll do something to your baby.

They could kill you and you’d be happy, so long as your child was allowed to live. With the fate of the kingdom, however, you know that your son’s life would be the first to go.

No. Food is the furthest thing from your mind, despite the necessity you have for it to live. You want to be home and safe, where no one can touch you and your little one can live in peace.

“I’m fine with bread and cheese.” You tell him, leaning towards him, reaching for him because he’s close enough that you can graze his pant leg.

“We have no cheese.” Steve snaps.

“Then just bread!” You laugh lightly, grabbing his pant leg and pulling him close once more.

He falls to his knees for you, walking towards you before he sits back and places his hands on your belly.

“This will pass.” You whisper for him, reaching up to pull him down so that you can press your forehead to his. “We will get out of here and things will be better. Bucky will be fine, and our child will be born happy and healthy and we will live out the rest of our lives together until we both die wrinkled and gray, still arguing over how best to care for each other.”

Steve sighs, and you can almost feel the ache in his chest in your own. Placing your hand there, you massage it lightly, your brow furrowed in sympathetic agony.

“You are doing fantastic, Steve.” You assure him and he meets your eyes.

They shake, filling with tears before one slips along his cheek. You wipe it away quickly, smearing it along his slightly dirty cheek. It’s been impossible for either of you to get properly clean here.

“You’re losing weight.” He argues.

“And that’s not your fault. I’m just worried.” You finally admit. “About you, about our son. I’m worry about Nat and Father and Bucky. And I’m terrified that someone will find us and you’ll do something stupid to try and protect me.”

You tease him, and he sniffles. Shutting his eyes, he pulls you tight again his chest so that your back is curved in a slightly uncomfortable position as he holds you there. Yet you give him what he needs, wrapping your arms under his and around to rest against his back.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispers fiercely.

As he breathes in, it shakes with emotion and the chuckle rolls across your throat softly.

“Oh, Steve.” You say gently, trying to pacify his own fears. “Once our little one is born, you will always have a part of me with you. Until then, I promise not to leave your side.”

“You can’t leave me even after he’s born!” Steve fights you.

“Alright.” You relent. “Do the others know just how needy you are? How much attention you require? How romantic you can be?”

Steve pulls back, shaking his head before he shrugs.

“They saw me with Margaret.” He says.

“And were you like this with her?” You wonder, genuinely curious and not at all jealous.

“Only once or twice. Under very similar circumstances.” He admits, rising again and moving to grab the basket of food you’d gone out to purchase four days ago.

You relax on the bed, so close to the ground that you can feel the cold from outside seeping through. Rising you move towards the fire and throw in a few more pieces of wood Steve had gathered.

The fire roars a little stronger and Steve meets you back on the bed with the basket.

“Just bread now.” He tells you, but he cuts it in two and offers you the larger piece.

“Steve…” You frown, reaching around his outstretched hand to take the smaller piece.

“You need it more.” He argues.

“And you’re bigger than me.” You point out.

“You’re so stubborn!” He growls but is interrupted as the door to your little cottage is thrown open.

You gasp, nearly screaming as you drop your bed, startled by the sudden noise.

A rush of cold wind fills the cottage, your fire crackling loudly as it tries to combat the sudden cold.

Steve thrusts himself between you and the door, turning to give you his back with his shield already in hand.

“When I tell you to run, run.” Steve says quietly.

From the darkness of the opening, a familiar head of red hair struts in, his smirk hateful and bitter.

“You shouldn’t have hit me, Your Majesty.” Phin says, mocking you and your title.

No! You think in terror. How?

How did he find out?! This can’t be happening!

“And now you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.” He spits, then steps aside as a dark figure moves in behind him.

You coil in on yourself, cupping your belly as you prepare yourself to turn and run as Steve begins to rise from his crouch in front of you only to stop halfway.

The figure steps into the light, and it feels as if your heart might explode in jubilation.

With his sepia skin, still mostly silk save for the frost-bitten tips of his nose, ears, and chin Sam gives you and Steve a small minute shake of his head.

You cling to Steve’s back more tightly, noticing the other things about Sam that you hadn’t noticed before.

He wears head to toe black, the same leather tunic with subtle metal plating on his torso and legs that the Hydra knights had been wearing. He glares at both of you then whistles loudly.

Behind him rush in a party of men you’ve never seen before. All of them wearing the same armor.

“Come quietly and we won’t hurt the Queen.” Sam says, such danger in his voice.

You’ve never heard Sam sound this way. It drives chills down your spine.

With no choice but to obey, Steve drops his arms, defeat in his shoulders.

The other knights haul him to his feet, ripping the shield from his hands and then escort you both towards the door.

Sam steps aside as you move through the doorway, one of the knights poking into your back painfully but you don’t dare make a sound.

As you pass them, you look at Phin, clinging to Steve’s arm which is held out back towards you to offer you what little protective comfort he can. Sam reaches onto his waist and pulls a pouch of what must be gold and tosses it to Phin.

“If you speak of this to anyone, you will feel the wrath of Hydra’s sword.” Sam warns Phin, a true threat.

Phin goes white.

You and Steve are shoved roughly into a large closed cart. You trip on your way in but Steve turns to catch you and settles you there between his legs in the far corner of the carriage. You can feel the wood rough and splintered beneath your legs and adjust your dress as best you can.

“Move quickly. This needs to be done before morning.” Sam orders the guard then climbs in after the two of you and moves to sit himself on one of the built-in benches on the sides of the cart. “Shut the door. Lock it.”

They obey him, slamming the doors shut and then bolting it shut. A moment later, you’re jerked forward as the cart begins to move.

For ten minutes, you cling as tightly as you can to Steve, his arms hot and tight. Then as the cart’s movements become steadier, he relaxes his arms. It gets faster, cutting through the winter night quickly.

Steve sighs.

“What took you so long?” He shakes his head, then reaches up to caress the side of your head. “Relax, my flower. We’re safe now.”

Confused, you turn to Sam and find him smiling. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, brilliant white teeth shining down at you as your heartbeat slows.

It had all been a ruse!

“How are my skills of deceit, your Majesty?” Sam asks you, then chuckles and relaxes against the side of the cart.

“But…” You begin, confused, and so emotionally wrought that you begin to cry without meaning to.

Maybe it was all the built-up fear over the two weeks you’ve been back home, or maybe it’s the relief that you’re finally somewhere that the treat of death no longer presses down on you and your baby.

“Shit…” Sam says, moving towards you on his knees to hover uselessly before you, not daring to touch you as you sob softly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Sam says, but Steve pulls you closer.

You hide your face into his chest, clinging to his shirt tightly as all the stress you’ve been feeling goes pouring from your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Sam repeats, this time speaking to Steve.

“It’s not you.” Steve assures him, stroking your back. “We’re just finally safe.”

He kisses your head, pressing his lips against your hair. “You’re safe.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love Is Not Forced ~ 20

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,900ish

Summary: Y/N spends some time in a village in Brooklyn, reminding her of times long past.

“She’s not coming, Bucky,” Steven fretted as he paced near the carriage. “I screwed up again. She wasn’t ready and I pushed her!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t do anything right by her.”

“The Princess still has five minutes, punk,” Bucky responded, arms crossed as he watched his friend worry.

“Doesn’t matter. She won’t come. I screwed up, like I always do.”

“Have a little faith in her. Maybe she’s going to be late, just to keep you on your toes.”

“She already does that enough. But I definitely wouldn’t blame her for being late to prove some point.”

“I haven’t seen you this worried about trying to impress a girl since we were teenagers. It’s kind of entertaining to watch.”

“I’m so glad that my anxiety is for your entertainment.”

Bucky walked up to his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders to stop the King from pacing. “Stop worrying, Steve. Everything is going to be fine.”

“That’s what Nat said.”

“Well, I do learn from the best.” 

“Am I interrupting something here?” Y/N’s voice broke them out of their conversation.

“Princess,” Steven tried not to sound too relieved, but it didn’t really work, “you came.”

“Yes,” she replied, coming closer. “I thought about how my Father would disapprove of not meeting some of your people. I met many of the people of Asgard and Wakanda, it would be rude of me to not give your people the same consideration.”

“Still, I’m glad to see you.”

“Your Highness,” Bucky bowed.

“Captain,” Y/N greeted curtly. “Will you be joining us today?”

“If that is okay with you, Princess.”

“It’s fine by me, but it also is not up to me.”

“You do have a right to say no, Y/N,” the King said.

“Do I?” Y/N asked, curious, turning to look at the King. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Do I have the right to say no?”

“Well, I—“

“Cause if I did, in fact, have the right to say no, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t be here right now. I probably wouldn’t have let my Father take my brother or I in. And I definitely wouldn’t be parading around trying to impress men.”

“Your Highness, I didn’t mean—“

“You never mean to do anything, do you?” Y/N stared the King down for a few long seconds before continuing, “Now, are we going? Or am I going back to my room for the day?”

Y/N and Steven didn’t speak the whole way to the village. Y/N kept her focus on everything passing outside of the window, while Steven tried to do the same. But kept stealing glances at the Princess. The village the two royals stopped to visit, reminded Y/N a lot of the village she lived in prior to becoming a Princess. Children laughed as the ran around, playing. Men were working together to plant crops and build houses. The women sat together as the sewed and talked, or they were gathering the crops with each other.

As the carriage pulled up, the people ran to greet it. Bucky and the other guards that joined them, one being Pietro, kept them back so that the King and Princess could exit the carriage. The King exited one side and hurried over to the other to help the Princess out. Y/N accepted his offered hand, not wanting the people to question her actions towards their King.

Steven kept a hold of her hand as he introduced her to the crowd. The children quickly ran up to the two royals, which caught Y/N by surprise. The King bent down to greet them. He smiled as he talked with the children and listened to them speak. Y/N’s focus was pulled from the seen by a tug on her dress. She looked down to see a little girl, she couldn’t be more than seven years old, looking up at her.

“Hello,” Y/N greeted, bending down to the little girl. “My name is Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Cassandra,” the girl answered nervously. “But everyone calls me Cassie.”

“Both are very pretty names.”

“Your Highness, I am so sorry,” a dark haired woman came running up. She pulled the child towards her by the shoulders. “I told her to stay by me and to not disturb you.”

“She’s completely fine.” Y/N stood up. “I was just telling Cassie, here, how pretty her names are. Are you her mother?”

“Yes, my name is Hope.”

“Hope,” the King greeted, coming over. “It’s so good to see you and Cassie.” Steven bent down to talk to the girl. “How’ve you been Cassie? Not causing too much trouble I hope.”

“No,” Cassie giggled. “No one could cause as much trouble as my father.”

“You got that right.” Steven ruffled her hair as he stood up. “Where is Scott, anyway?”

“He said he had to finish something before he could came greet you,” Hope responded.

“Why don’t we go get him then?” Steven looked down at Cassie. “I’ll race you.”

“Okay,” Cassie grinned, already sprinting off.

“Hey! That’s not far!” Steven laughed, running after her.

“It seems that you and your family know the King quite well,” Y/N stated as her and Hope followed the two runners.

“Yes,” Hope replied. “My husband, Scott, is a friend of His Majesty. He also sometimes works for him.”

“Sometimes?”

“Scott enjoys being home more than he enjoys living at the castle and seeing us once a week.”

“What does your husband do?”

“He helps create and build new weapons. And when Captain Barnes or Lord Wilson need sometime off, Scott fills in for him.”

“If your family is high up in the King’s court, why live in this little village?”

“It’s home. We use what we need and then we help the other members of the village.”

“That’s so… that’s so kind of you.”

It amazed Y/N at how kind and humble these people were. Yet it reminded her of how she grew up. Her whole village worked together to survive. They didn’t need anyone but each other.

“Scott,” the King said as he exited the house, arm around the smaller man, “this is Y/N Stark, the Princess of Alexandria.”

“Your Highness,” Scott bowed, giving her hand a kiss. “It’s so good to meet you.”

“Likewise. Your wife was just telling me what you do to help the village. That’s so very kind of you.”

“It’s nothing. We are a family here in Brooklyn. Helping each other is what we do.”

“And your daughter—“

“That little ball of energy cheated and got here before I did,” Steve grumbled, jokingly.

“Yes, she does keep us on our toes,” Scott laughed.

“I don’t know where she could have got that from,” Hope mumbled next to the Princess.

Y/N spent the day getting to know the people of the village and watching Steven interact with all the people. She especially enjoyed watching Steven with the children. He seemed to be so interested in all the stories they told him and he was so willing to do what they asked him. It was heart-warming. She played with her necklace nervously as she watched one of the interactions. When Thor and Loki had taken her around Asgard, she had seen Thor interact with a few children but not Loki. Did he like children? Did he even ever what children? Or was King Steven just putting on a show to impress the Princess?

When it was time for the royals to head back to the castle, Y/N promised her new found friends that she would return. She let the King help her into the carriage and they both waved as they rode away. A look of longing and sadness overcame her, the further they got from the village. And the King noticed.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Steven worried. “Did you not enjoy the day?”

“I did…” she answered quietly. “It’s just… it reminded me of my life before. Before all of this.” She gestured around the carriage. “A simpler time. A time with—“

“With more freedom.”

“Yes… I am not saying that I am not grateful for the life that my Father has provided my brother and I. I just wish that sometimes things could be like that again.”

“If you wish to spend more time in the village while you’re here, you are welcome to.”

“Really?”

“You are welcome to do as you please, Princess. As I keep saying.”

“How am I suppose to split the rest of the week up between the beach and the village? It is rude to not spend time with the host.”

“How about you spend afternoons in the village, and evenings on the beach? With me?”

Y/N smiled at the King. “That could work. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Enough of that already, Y/N. If I can call you by your first name, then you can call me by mine.”

“I’ve heard your friends call you, Steve and Steven. Which do you prefer?”

“Which ever you wish.” 

The King looked at her with that look she had seen on the ship. It made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Upon getting ready for bed, Wanda brought in a letter from Loki.

Y/N,

The longer than I am away from you, the more my heart aches. I don’t think that I can take the separation from you much longer. The preparations for your departure are nearly complete. I’m just waiting for you to tell me that you are ready. Please respond and let me know soon.

Forever Yours,

Loki

Y/N was torn. She wanted to run away with Loki as soon as possible. But she also wanted to stay in Brooklyn a little longer. To spend more time in the village and on the beach. She also wanted to say goodbye to her family. She couldn’t just disappear on them, it wasn’t right. So the Princess began writing a letter back to her love.

Loki,

I am sorry that I am causing you pain. Trust me, when I say that our separation has not been easy on me either. I miss you, every moment of every day. 

I am writing to apologize that I will have to push our plans back. I have chosen to stay in Brooklyn a little longer than originally planned. I went to this village today, and it reminded me so much of my life before I became a Princess. I cannot leave without spending more time there. Then there is also the beach. With the sand beneath my feet and the water covering them, I feel like I can finally breathe. It’s hard to explain if you have not experienced it. 

I also cannot leave without saying goodbye to my family. It would break them if I left without one last hug.

Again, I am sorry to do this to you. To us. But I cannot leave yet. Please understand that I am not doing this as a punishment. For it hurts me also to be kept apart from you. 

My Heart Is With You,

Y/N

next chapter >

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