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carolmunson · 7 months ago

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blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

#emperor geta #geta x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #geta x you #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction

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milliesfishes · 4 months ago

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Omg I could really use some PK coryo angst from you, every time you write an angsty snippet about him I die 😭 PK coryo is something else

꣑ৎ౨ৎThe Bodyguard꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: attempted kidnapping pairing: peacekeeper coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: after a scary incident, your father takes what you deem unnecessary precautions author’s note: anon I apologize for not answering this sooner but I hope this fulfills the need <3 tagging @melo-bees thank you so much for this idea lovey!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Skipping through the town square, you dodged a few stray people, bestowing them large smiles and letting your bag swing as you passed through. You hummed something to yourself, basking in the sunlight. Summer was in full bloom, and you reveled in it, feeling as though you were in a whirlwind of happy things.

Maybe you shouldn't be out here by yourself. Maybe you should have told someone where you were going, like your mother or a maid or something. But it was just a quick pop into the market, to say hello to a few people and maybe get something pretty for yourself.

The arduous years of school had ended in the spring, and you'd proudly taken your diploma and hung it in a silver frame on your wall. A part of you mourned the loss of that time, knowing the innocence of those years would be pried from your hands and twisted into something worth marrying. But the other held onto the spark of youth that somehow hadn't been doused by your parent's warnings of the future.

"A young lady shouldn't wander the streets by herself." "A young lady needs protection." Given your father's prominence, there were legions of Peacekeepers at his disposal, and he'd made empty threats of putting one or more on your tail. But you waved them off. They were nothing but air.

Clasping the hands of a woman behind a vendor's stall, you squealed, bouncing on your heels. "Oh, Ember you've outdone yourself this week." The jewelry spread out across the wooden surface of the table was exquisite, metal twisting around itself, stones embedded as the tiniest of details. You held up a pair of earrings, letting the light catch the gold and emphasize the red shine of the tiny rocks nestled in the crafted design. "Would it be alright if I got these?"

"Of course, honey," she smiled, taking the coins you slipped into her hands. Counting them, she frowned and tried to pass a few back. "That's too much-"

"Really? Could've sworn you undercharged." Grinning, you swapped your old earrings out, stowing them safely in a pocket of your bag.

Ember gave you an exasperated look. "Now-"

"It's been a pleasure, I'll see you next time!" You tossed a few more coins on the table, letting them rattle and clink against each other as you broke into a run, skipping away. Ember's laugh followed you like an echo, and you smiled as you pictured her shaking her fist at you.

Your new earrings bounced against your cheeks as you ran down the alleyway and down the lush forest path, holding your skirts in both hands. It was always while running that you felt the freest. And so you did it over and over again, through the trees and streets, through every place you could think of.

With the wind on your legs, you felt liberty's sweet caress all around. It lifted the corners of your lips and practically made you levitate. If feathers sprouted from your limbs and air built up under your arms, sending you soaring into the clouds, you wouldn't have been surprised.

This could be your life. Dancing around town and supporting your friends in the way they needed you to. Nodding along to your father's requests and then turning your cheek. This was boundless, beautiful-

You smacked something firm, the force of it knocking you backwards. Shoulders hitting the dirt, your hair became a curtain over your eyes that you didn't part right away. The collision had stolen your breath, and you chased it back, finally able to grasp and shove it back into your mouth.

Blinking wearily, you swept your hair out of your eyes and got a good look at what had interrupted your joyful flee. A man, clothes tattered, face streaked with dirt. A hat shaded his eyes, but you could see the firmness in them.

An apology bubbled up, escaping your lips as you scrambled to your feet. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where-"

"You're the mayor's daughter." The words were frozen like glaciers, and you lifted your lips in a sweet smile, hoping to thaw him.

"If you'll excuse me-"

His hands were gripping you tight suddenly, roughened nails leaving imprints on your skin. You gasped, wiggling in his hold and trying to squirm away. "I really...if you'd just let me go-"

"How much d'you think Daddy's gonna gimme for givin' his pretty daughter back?" The question sent snakes slithering up your spine, wrapping around your throat. The look in his eyes was haunting, hungry. You cried out, trying to reach out and push him away but he held your wrists fast, twisting one and sending a sharp pain up your arm.

It happened before you could even think. Your knee shot up like a missile, landing between the man's legs. When he shouted, releasing your arms to clutch himself, you caught a glimpse of his mouth. It was unclear whether he was missing teeth or if they were blackened by dust.

You didn't stick around to find out. Now your running had a new purpose, and you sprinted down the road, sobs moving past your lips choked and desperate. Hot tears stung your cheeks as they poured down like rain.

Fear struck you like an arrow, hitting dead center. Over and over you'd been told of people who would be out to get you solely because of the position of your birth, but never before had you witnessed it. As you reached the edge of town, darting back through the narrow alleyway and leaning on the wall to catch your breath, you shuddered involuntarily and hurriedly wiped the tears away from your face.

"Are you alright?"

A gasp clenched your breath and your head snapped up, heart pounding before you realized who stood before you. A tall man in a Peacekeeper's uniform with blue eyes like cornflowers, clutching a weapon. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and your eyes fell to the ground, foot toeing at the cobblestone. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." His voice was low and you managed to meet his eyes, holding your chin high.

Studying him, you were almost surprised at how young he appeared to be. Close to your age, surely. It was such a strange thing, to be so close in age and yet so starkly different.

"I'm fine. I'm just having a bad day," you said, wiping your eyes again. It felt humiliating to talk about what had just happened, and so you sealed your lips.

The Peacekeeper's mouth was set in a firm line, and you could tell he didn't believe you for one second. "May I walk you home?" Now you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes, and you knew the idea of your father was bouncing around in his head. Maybe he wanted praise, or a monetary reward. The chances of him doing it out of the goodness of his heart were low.

Mustering a smile you hoped was sweet, you shook your head, clutching your bag and sidestepping him. "No thank you. I'll manage."

"You're-"

"I'm fine!" you called, already walking away. This time you clung to the shadows rather than enjoying the sunshine. Nobody else needed to see you like this.

It was embarrassing enough that a man with eyes the color of the sky you so badly wanted to soar into had.

The delicate lace of your curtains looked so pretty in the sunshine, and you clasped them in your fingers, pleased to find them warm. Lying stretched out across your bedspread, you smiled brightly, kicking one foot up into the air. The bundle of wildflowers on your nightstand was tied with a ribbon, and their sweetened scent greeted your nose.

It had been a perfect day in the forest, lying amongst the flora and fauna. You'd brought your picnic with you as usual, reading to yourself and enjoying the quiet. In the past bit you'd hardly been able to have a moment to yourself, making today all the more magical.

Since that awful day a week ago you hadn't breathed a word to anybody about what had happened, although you knew your mother suspected something was wrong when you came home with dried tear tracks staining your face like berry juice.

She'd occupied you with social visits of all kinds, to people far and wide across the town. There were only so many parlors you could sit in, so many polite smiles you could offer for so many days in a row before you went crazy.

Of course she meant well. But today was your day, and you had enjoyed it immensely.

Your father's voice pierced the quiet and you sat up when you realized he was calling for you. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you stood and stretched, muscles popping like bubbles. It was rare that he summoned you before dinner, and you wondered what he wanted to discuss now. If it was the prospect of another son of a wealthy acquaintance you wanted no part of it.

Making it to his office, you paused in the doorway. Had you known your father wasn't alone, maybe you would have taken the time to smooth your dress or run a brush through your hair.

Standing there in front of him was a young man in a Peacekeeper's uniform, blond hair buzzed to his scalp, hat under his arm. You shyly clung to the frame and watched them exchange words for a moment before they noticed you.

When the other man turned it hit you like a stone. Those eyes. The color of a summer sky. You were frozen for a moment, staring at him and feeling nothing except your heartbeat pounding your ribs. His gaze didn't tear away from you either, and for a moment you felt as though you were the only two people in the room.

What was he doing here?

Your father broke the tension, clearing his throat. "I'll expect you back here tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." The man tore his gaze from you and nodded at your father, shaking his extended hand. "I look forward to it."

On the way out, he paused, giving you a nod. "Miss." You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest.

It wasn't until the front door shutting announced his departure that your father spoke to you. "That was Private Snow."

"Ah." You nodded, shifting on your feet and further entering the room. "Is he going to be here more often?" Now you were imagining him standing guard with the other Peacekeepers protecting your home and family, gorgeous eyes piercing your soul every time you left the bounds.

"Yes." Your father smoothed his beard, studying you. "He'll be here for you."

Straightening, you tilted your head, brow knitting. "For me? What-?"

"For your protection." Before you could argue, he firmly said, "An incident was brought to my attention recently. Apparently, you were seen hysterical in an alley."

Your lips parted and you tried to speak, the words coming out in a pathetic stutter. "I...it was...nothing-"

He held up a hand, effectively silencing you. Your fingers found your skirt, twisting the fabric and clenching it tight as every possible excuse swam through your head. But you could see now that it would fall upon deaf ears. For every time he'd warned you, he'd finally made good on his threat.

"You've been far too careless," he began, each word with an edge like a knife. You swallowed, bowing your head as he continued. "Running around town and cavorting with whoever you want. That ends now. It's very clear you can't handle yourself."

Tears were pricking your eyes, and you suppressed a sniffle. This was humiliating, to be reprimanded by your father for something that wasn't even your fault. In a whisper, you tried, "I didn't mean to-"

A shake of his head cut you off. "Private Snow will be accompanying you from now on wherever you go. You'll have constant supervision so I don't have to deal with you every time you get yourself into something stupid. There will be no further discussion." He turned back to his desk, waving a hand and indicating your dismissal.

The walk back up to your room was slow and shameful. Frustration brimmed at the edges of you, poking and prodding at your head. Constant supervision...already you mourned the loss of your precious alone time, the freedom you had enjoyed. Now you would have a shadow trailing behind you carrying a gun.

Shutting the door, you let your tears fall freely, though no sobs parted your lips and split your soul open. You tried to convince yourself that maybe this could be okay. It wasn't like your routine would be interrupted. It only meant that he would be there.

Sniffling and drying your eyes, you took a deep breath, eyes falling on the wildflowers again. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. It was for your own safety after all.

You tried to picture it then, a prophetic vision. The man who'd looked at you in a way nobody had before, who'd awoken some strange feeling in your heart protecting you.

It stayed with you for the rest of the day, trickling into your dreams.

In Coriolanus' life, he'd been mildly interested in a great many people. Ones who could aid his journey to the top or help him play the game of the Capitol's choosing and change the rules for him. He'd been interested, is all.

But he'd never been utterly enchanted by anyone before. Not until you.

All too often he chided himself. The daughter of the mayor, the girl he was only supposed to be keeping an eye on. Really, whatever he was feeling needed to stop immediately. It was blatantly unprofessional.

And yet here he was, standing in a field under the shade of a tree and watching you use your skirt as a makeshift basket as you gathered strawberries into it. Tucked haphazardly in the crook of your arm was a messy bunch of wildflowers. Your hair was loose, taken out of the braid he'd watched your mother approve before you left the house.

You were a vision, something not meant for his hopeless eyes.

Coriolanus took every bit of his life as a Peacekeeper seriously, but this was another matter entirely. It perplexed him how much more committed he'd found himself once every aspect of his duties were steered in your direction.

He'd once felt fascination for Lucy Gray, whom he'd pulled every stop for to get her out of the arena. A girl with a voice like a songbird whose dedication to her found family had inspired him. She had been his ticket out of poverty, and he clung to it with every fiber of his being. When his methods had been unveiled, resulting in his life sentence to the military, he'd kept at his trying, attempted to bribe his way to her.

The attempt had failed, and now he was in Two, among forest confines. At least he wasn't breathing in coal dust. And now there was you.

Given strict instructions on where you were and weren't supposed to go, Coriolanus had known you would be a stubborn case. From the moment he'd recognized you in the alley he'd gotten the feeling that you were as free spirited as a bird. Your father had seemed all too happy to hand you off. Coriolanus hadn't understood why until this morning.

"It's not dangerous," you'd protested in the kitchen this morning, cutting a few slices of bread. "I go there all the time. There's nothing but trees."

"Your father said not to allow you to go past the town limits," he countered, voice firm. He felt like a giant next to you as you delicately gathered your food into the wicker basket shaped like a heart, pink linen lining the insides.

Giving him an exasperated look, you brushed a stray strand away from your face. It had been bothering him for a minute, and he'd longed to do that exact thing. "What could possibly happen if you're going to be with me the whole time?"

Huffing slightly, Coriolanus felt the beginnings of a headache twinge at his temples. A week into this endeavor and he could already tell you were going to be difficult. You fought him at every turn, pleading with him to let you go literally everywhere on the list of prohibited places.

The market on the wrong side of town. A nighttime club with live music. And now the forest, which had particularly been emphasized to him by your father.

You'd batted your eyelashes and shut the lid of the basket. "Please? You've done such a good job at keeping me safe. And it's not that deep in the forest, just a little bit of a walk."

The white dress you were wearing was edged with fine spun lace at the neckline, exposing your collarbone. He tried not to stare at it, tried not to make it so obvious that he found every angle of you beautiful.

Unhelpfully, the look you were giving him reminded him of a doe, the pretty one who pranced among snowflakes in the picture books with rich illustrations his mother used to read him. He was struck dumb for a moment, staring at you.

"Okay."

The little squeal you gave was worth it alone, along with the way you grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "Thank you!"

Now he was watching you in your element, feeling like he'd stumbled upon a nymph. Your essence trailed behind you like fairy dust.

You spotted him watching you and threw him a sweet smile, one that gnawed at the edges of his heart. He somehow found it in him to snap to his senses, boots crinkling the grass as he made his way over to you. No longer did he have to carry the enormous Peacekeeper's gun, only a small one at his hip. This was one of many perks of working directly for your family, among being moved from the base to the servant's quarters of the house, and of course, you.

Now close to you, he solemnly said, "We should head back," expecting your face to fall or for you to try and pout your way into thirty more minutes. Coriolanus had grown accustomed to your methods in very little time, as they were tried and true.

Instead, you nodded and tried to shift your flowers up the crook of your elbow. "Could you take these? I want to put the berries in my basket."

Coriolanus removed your bouquet, feeling a little silly as he watched you deposit the strawberries. The skirt of your dress was lightly stained with red juice, and he wondered if it was as sweet as you were.

You reached your hand out from where you were kneeling, about to take the flowers when you groaned, letting your arm fall. "My hair. I have to braid my hair. Hold on-" you gathered it up and let it fall behind your shoulders, clumsily separating it into three sections. Your movements were messy, the result a crooked pattern traveling down your back. Tying it off with your ribbon, you reached up once again, expecting him to hand you the bouquet.

He was staring at your hair, frowning. You re-emphasized your hand. "I can take them now-"

"Your hair doesn't look anything like how it did when we left." He studied the messy attempt, and you half smiled.

"It's fine. Nobody pays attention to that."

Coriolanus pressed his lips into a firm line. If you came back looking even slightly like you'd been in the forest, his entire position could be jeopardized. It was bad enough your skirt was stained, but that could be played off. There was no place in town you were allowed to go where you'd be able to take your hair down. Women around here always had it pinned up or pulled back in some way.

Anxiety pulsed at his heart as he imagined what would happen if you were discovered. He'd be disciplined for not following orders and sent back to the barracks, maybe even demoted. Worse, he wouldn't be allowed to be near you anymore. You, who were quickly becoming what he orbited around.

Dropping to his knees and setting your flowers to the side, he paused before he touched your ribbon. "May I?"

You raised your eyebrows. "it's not a big deal Coriolanus."

He ignored how his name sounded with your lips wrapped around it. That was something he could dwell on later, when he was staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep. Instead, he gave you a look. "Just let me."

Shrugging, you faced forward and nodded. He untied your ribbon, fingers unweaving the mess you'd made of your soft hair. It was pretty- tumbling down your back like a waterfall, and he savored holding it.

Coriolanus combed his fingers through it once before meticulously separating the sections. You were perfectly still, the peace of the area enveloping you both. He was lost in the task for a moment, carefully weaving the strands together.

Your soft voice lilted his ears. "How do you know how to do this?"

"My cousin used to have me braid her hair," he murmured distractedly, careful as he smoothed one section before folding it over another. "Every day before she went to school."

"Oh." The word was quiet, and he had the feeling you'd have turned around if he'd have let you. "Do you miss her?"

He was surprised by the question, swallowing and nimbly finishing the bottom half of your braid. "Yes." Nobody had asked him about his family since arriving. The closest had been when he'd filled out the Corso address on the form that directed where his pay would be sent.

Tying the silky white ribbon around the end, securing your hair in place, he cleared his throat and sat back, getting to his feet. "All done."

You lifted your eyes to him, and he was rewarded by that sweet smile again. Coriolanus held out his hand and you took it, standing up with your flowers in one hand and your basket hooked over the same arm. For a moment, your soft hand stayed in his, soft fingers wrapped around his palm. "Thank you," you breathed, meeting his gaze.

It took a moment for him to find his words. Even the mere sight of you shook him to his core. "You're welcome."

On the walk back home, you let go of his hand and he mourned its loss for a moment before you slipped your own into the crook of his elbow, eyes darting around the space. He'd noticed you do this on the walk over too, searching the space as if you were expecting something to appear from the tree line.

As you walked quietly beside him, he thought of the first day he'd seen you, with tears falling and eyes blown wide. You'd come from the forest then too, and he wondered what had scared you so badly it had lingered. You bit the inside of your cheek and took in a shaky breath.

"I'll keep you safe." The words slipped out, but he made no attempt to remedy them.

If his heart was going to spark every time you looked at him, it would be a fire in no time. You searched his eyes, squeezing his elbow. Even through his uniform shirt he could feel your hand warm from the sun. If he wanted to (and he very much did) he could count every freckle you'd gained from your time outside.

With no more than a smile and a sweetheart's demeanor, you'd ignited something so untouchable in his soul, something that almost scared him. It was untouchable, boundless. An ocean of wonder he was only beginning to set sail on.

If the boat capsized and drowned, he'd go happily.

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magicalshopping · 2 years ago

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♡ Bee & Honey Earrings ♡

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bigtreefest · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 8b: Last Night

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s last night on your farm

Word count: 2,645

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, p in v protected sex, crying during sex (well technically after), dry humping, vaginal fingering, sweet soft intimacy, kissing

Author’s Note: This could probably be read as a stand-alone, but I’ll catch you up in case you feel confused. Bucky made a business deal to work on your farm for a month. This is the last afternoon/night of that after spending all that time side-by-side. If you’re interested in the series, you can catch up with the link below or check out the rest of the Outta Nowhere AU

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

On the final Saturday that Bucky was at the farm, the two of you practically stayed pressed together. It’s not as if you were unproductive, but you were glued at the hip, never leaving the office for too long without the other under the guise of tying up loose business ends before his departure. You knew once he was gone, he’d have to take all his burdens back off Steve, leaving him swamped with work, unable to pay you any more attention than he did his other associates.

With your efficiency and his inability to say no to you, all ‘work’ had been completed before noon. Sure, you could’ve dragged it out, but then you wouldn’t have had time to just enjoy each other’s presence like you had gotten used to. Before that could happen, though, you presented him with one last task.

Bucky sat on your oversized desk chair with you in between his legs. His chin was tucked over your shoulder as he rubbed up and down your thigh with his ringed hand. The cool metal gave you goosebumps on your bare skin, the nice weather allowing you to wear shorts and the lack of physical labor giving Bucky the opportunity to don his jewelry once again. You ignored the way your body shuddered at his touch, instead looking back at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Okay, cowboy. I think we’ve got your first few months of shipments all planned, so now onto my last order of business.”

He cocked his head to look at you with an amused, but tentative smile. “And what might that be?”

“Pull out a pen.” You stood up and shuffled the papers on your desk, looking for a blank one and setting it in front of him. You took a seat on the other side, not missing his slight pout and confusion as to why you moved so far and what was going on.

“Now that we’ve reached the end of the month, I want to assess what you’ve learned. I’m gonna shoot questions at you, and you write your answer so we can determine whether or not you actually took in information or just followed me around and mooched off my free meals.”

Bucky laughed when you shot him a wink and happily obliged you, a sparkle in his eyes, admiring the way you were demanding something of him with a sweet smile on your face, just like the first time you met. He gave a slight nod, pen at the ready. “Alright, sweet Honeybee. Hit me with it.”

You crossed your arms and legs, watching him as you rattled everything off you could think of, from super obvious things, like which animal lays eggs, to asking nearly impossible things, like the brand of feed given to the dairy cows. Bucky’s reactions to each question were a treat, some causing him to light up with knowledge, others making him roll his eyes at your specificity.

“Last question. This one’s worth a thousand points. Write something you think will impress me. Something out of the blue, whatever’s on your mind. Anything at all.”

Bucky sat there for a moment, tapping the cap of the pen against his bottom lip in thought. You watched his playful features morph into something serious, something soft, as he scribbled one line at the bottom of the paper.

‘I wish I could stay here longer.’

You leaned forward so could read his paper upside down, scanning the answers, each one surprisingly correct. Not a single one was off and he even put more information than you’d asked for on some of them. You were not only amazed with the way he indulged your ridiculous request, but with how this whole time, he had actually been listening and watching, holding onto every word and fulfilling his side of the deal.

As you looked up from the paper and into his eyes, you could feel the warmth through his gaze even that far apart. You stood up again and Bucky did the same, coming around to meet you. It was as if your bodies were magnetic, drawing you towards each other until his one hand was on your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist as yours perched on his hips.

His eyes shifted between yours and he closed his eyes, drawing his forehead against yours before he spoke against your lips. “I’m serious. I love every moment with you. And I’m sorry it’ll have to end.”

You swallowed and let your eyes flutter closed as you leaned into his touch and nodded. “I know. But I get that you have work to do and it was already a lot for me to request you being here for so long. But just…for right now, be with me. Enjoy what little time is left of this with me. Please.” It came out as a whisper, a plea for him to remain present while he still could. You opened your eyes and looked up through your lashes to see him searching for your gaze.

He whispered back, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Say the word and it’s yours. I’m yours. And I’ll be right there if you ever need anything. Whatever you want, Honey. And right now, I’m here with you. I only want to be… with you.”

Your eyes closed again and you nestled into his chest in satisfaction at the depth of his words. You knew he was saying he would be present, but it meant so much more. For him to make a promise like that, extending beyond just business, made you feel supported, protected, embraced.

He pulled you closer if that was even possible and pressed his lips to your hairline, then using his hand against your cheek, he pulled your head so you were both leaning back enough that your gazes met before he smashed his lips against yours. It was with purpose and a new sort of urgency that you hadn’t really experienced in the slower kisses and pecks you had shared. You began to walk backwards and Bucky followed, lips attached to yours in a near-lock as your tongues danced, not unlike your feet, performing similarly to the two-step you had taught him weeks before. Your hands slid up a down his chest and began to pop open the buttons of his flannel shirt as his ran under yours, feeling the softness of your belly and tracing upwards, raising the hem of your shirt as his callused fingertips sent a thrill through you.

The two of you removed your clothing piece by piece, discarding them carelessly as you crossed through the living room and waltzed carefully up the steps, grateful Peter was out of the house for the day and helping Curtis with the weekend chores.

Clad only in underwear, you grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards your room, falling down on the bed as he crawled over you. His lips met yours once again as you widened your legs, allowing his hips to grind on your core. Your gasp at the sensation allowed Bucky’s tongue to explore your mouth, swallowing down each other’s moans and drawing closer and closer. Bucky pulled away for a second to catch his breath, the both of you looking deeply into the other’s eyes and panting.

His fingers traced down your side to play with the hem of your cotton panties, and you nodded, wordlessly giving him the permission he needed to pull them down. Bucky groaned at the sight of the damp fabric as he dragged the material down your legs, kissing back up your body and stoping to lovingly lick and nip at your neck as you whined and writhed for some sort of friction again.

“Jamie, please.”

He smiled and sighed at the way you begged for his touch, not used to being the one in control of anything since he’d been here, and now holding your pleasure in his hands. His fingers reached down to find your clit, dipping towards your entrance first to gather your arousal before making slow, teasing circles on the sensitive button. His soft touch set your body on fire. It had been so long since you’d been this intimate with anyone, all of your focus on the farm, and the exhaustion after a long week, not to mention the hurt from Jake deterring you from the desire for a partner.

“I’m here, I’m with you, Honey. I’ve got you-give you whatever you want. Just wanna make you feel good.”

Sensing your sensitivity and deducing how long it had likely been for you, Bucky slowly slid his middle finger through your slit, his eyes never leaving your face. He didn’t want to miss a single second of the way you nearly crumbled under his touch. Your eyes were half-lidded in pleasure as your body lurched forward at his slow, gentle intrusion, accompanied by a moan. He drank in the view, more gorgeous than he imagined you could be, back bowing at his touch. Bucky added another finger and the sensation of the cool metal against the heat between your legs was almost too much to handle.

Your legs began to shake as he slowly coaxed in a third finger, his thumb gently strumming your clit, deft fingers stretching your entrance. The feeling was overwhelming and pushing you impossibly close to an edge you hadn’t experienced in years at the hands of another.

“Jamie, Jamie it’s so much. So good. I’m so close.” It came out between hiccuping gasps as you tucked your face into his neck, throwing your arms around his muscular back and legs around his waist, pinning his hand between your bodies. You were clinging to him with your whole being as you reached your peak with a keen, pussy clenching his fingers almost painfully, but Bucky didn’t mind. He would’ve let you break his arm to see and feel the way he was wringing pleasure from the distant corners of your body right now. He continued to slowly pump his fingers against your walls, bringing you down from your high.

You would’ve collapsed onto the bed if Bucky hadn’t had a firm arm behind you, holding you to his chest where you had curled into him, as you gasped for air. You were finally able to pull your face away and look into his eyes again, his burning with desire and yours hazy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“Do you, uh, do you have a-“ Bucky’s eager nod cut you off as he pressed another sloppy kiss against your lips before slinking back off the bed and walking towards his bag in the corner of the room.

“I think so. Let me check.” Bucky hadn’t expected anything like this to happen over this month, so he definitely didn’t have a condom prepared. Perhaps his emergency one was still in his wallet, but he honestly wasn’t sure. He was pleasantly surprised to find it easily, rolling it on and coming back on the bed towards you.

As he hovered over you, you ran your hands along the scruff on the sides of his cheeks before pulling him down for another kiss. You could feel the weight of his hard length resting against your lower stomach, reaching down to stroke him gently. Bucky tensed at the sensation with a groan, throwing his head toward your shoulder and taking the opportunity to kiss your neck and down your collarbone before making his plea.

“Ride me, Honey. Need to feel you.”

You bit your lip nodding, complying with his request and moving to sit up as Bucky laid down against your pillows, right next to where you had just been sprawled out. You shuffled on your knees to straddle his hips, grinding down and letting his cock run through your folds, slick in preparation for him. You reached a hand down to perch his tip at your entrance, basking in the groan he let out at the sight. You slowly lowered yourself, the broad tip pushing your walls outward, pressure causing you to sharply gasp when he passed the threshold of your tight hole.

Your thigh muscles strained as you attempted to slowly but steadily lower yourself on his length, hyper aware of the delicious stretch of his thick cock inside you. The two of you sighed in relief as you bottomed out, nails gripping tightly into Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky held your hips as you adjusted to him, careful to not squeeze too hard from every time your tightness choked his dick. He fought the urge to throw his head back against the headboard, wanting to keep his eyes on you and where your bodies were connected. The sight of you splitting yourself open over him nearly made him come on the spot, but he tightened every muscle in his body again, trying to resist the urge. He only had one condom, after all, and he wanted to drag out this feeling for as long as possible.

He could see it on your face and feel your body start to relax as your nails gently scratched over his tattooed chest. You rocked your hips, testing the waters, and dragging a whine from both your lips. Your speed picked up, his hands continuing to guide you, finding a smooth rhythm that pulled moans, grunts, and gasps out of the two of you, until just like before, Bucky could feel you clenching again. He lowered his one hand, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tender circles, leading you both barreling towards a shared peak. Your hips stuttered and wavered with exhaustion, but Bucky continued guiding you with his firm, strong hand.

“C’mon Honey. You can do it. I can feel you’re close. Let go for me, sweet thing. Please. Come with me.” His voice was gruff, dripping with desire.

Your hands ran down the muscles of his torso and squeezed against his abs, nails digging in slightly. You used your last bit of energy to nod your head and urge him to help you along. Bucky planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting in tandem with the grind of your hips. You leaned down for a final kiss, wanting to be ever closer to him. As he gave into the gesture, it felt like everything hit you at once along with your shared orgasm: the sweet, tender moment, the reverence and respect he was treating you with throughout, and the fact that you didn’t know if it would ever happen again or if you’d see him after tomorrow.

Bucky came with a deep, but soft growl beneath you as he stroked your hair after you’d pulled away from his lips and tucked yourself into his neck again. He sat there, letting you cling to him for a second before he felt the unexpected wetness against his shoulder. Tears has started streaming down your face, and when Bucky caught a glimpse, his look was similar. Jaw clenched with water in his eyes.

The next morning, it was time for Bucky to go. The two of you had arranged it so you could have one last drive to the gas station together where you’d be meeting Gio.

Bucky convinced you to let him drive your truck for a final time, and you agreed, easily giving in to his request. He drove with the windows down, radio low on the dash, and one hand on the wheel. The other rested on your thigh while you clutched the arm attached to it against your chest and rested your head on his shoulder. His cheek was pressed against the top of your head. Bucky’s callused thumb made small circles on your skin as the breeze blew through the cab, paired with the warm glow of the early morning light, sun shining on your time together like it always had.

Next >

Bonus A/N: All this writing and this is the first time I’ve done smut for Bucky. I hope you enjoyed, I’d love to hear what you thought from a comment, reblog, or ask!!!

Series Taglist: @mrsnikstan @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22

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crazyunsexycool · 3 months ago

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A love as sweet as honey

The Rogers Family's first Halloween

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, The Barnes Family

A/N: I hope you guys like this!!! It's just a fun (I think it is) and fluffy extra for our other favorite family...

Series Masterlist

Steve was never one to celebrate Halloween before. Sure he would dress up but it was mostly with a last minute costume that Sugar shoved in his hand. This year he was very excited to celebrate though. As soon as Bee was born he already had a family costume in mind.

You weren’t one to celebrate Halloween either but seeing Steve so excited made you excited. He didn’t tell you what the costume was though. Steve would only let you know on Halloween day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here you go.” Steve hands you a garment bag. “Please go get dressed while I dress myself and Bee.”

You just shake your head and grab the bag. Finally you would find out what Steve had been working on for the last few weeks. You hear Bee cooing as Steve asks if she’s ready for her very first halloween.

You’re confused by what you find. There’s an amber colored dress. The dress was made to look like it was dripping with teardrop shaped beads all over. There were also some shoes that made it look like the dress dripped on them. Finally there was a headband with a honey dipper floating in what seemed to be amber colored resin. The jewelry was little honeycombs and bees. You giggled but got ready, excited to see how Steve and Bee were dressed.

“Are you ready?” You call out as you walk towards the living room.

“More than ready.”

You laugh when you finally set your eyes on Steve and your daughter. Steve smiled proudly at his costume.

“A beekeeper and his Bee, that’s cute.” He was dressed like a beekeeper and he had Bee strapped to his chest dressed as a Bee.

“And his Honey of course.” Steve smiles as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a quick kiss.

“So I’m just supposed to be a drop of Honey?”

“Yup. Now, we should get going before we miss out on all the fun.” Steve ushers you out of the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The halloween fair was in full swing. Kid friendly decorations were everywhere. As usual everyone that worked at the compound was there dressed up in all types of fun costumes. There are orange and purple lights hung up all around, carved pumpkins creating a path from the outer edges of the fair. Stalls for activities filled the area along with kiddie rides and food stands. Halloween music was played through speakers. Bee kicks her feet and coos while her head turns from side to side.

You and Steve make your way through the crowd. There are kids and parents running around trying to do as many activities as they can. The three of you are having a great time just walking around and taking in the sights and sounds. Towards the center of the fair, there’s a DJ booth and dance floor. Before you make it any further you’re stopped.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Steve asks as he looks down.

“Am Wednesday.”

“The day of the week?”

“She’s Wednesday Addams.” You inform Steve with a smile.

Standing in front of both of you with an annoyed expression on her face is Charlotte. She’s wearing a black dress, two braids and there’s a hand on her shoulder.

“Wednesday Addams? With a hand on her shoulder?” Steve looks concerned.

“We’re going to have to watch the Addams family so you understand. The hand on her shoulder is a character called Thing.” You tell him before getting closer to Lottie. “That looks so cool. It’s almost real. How did you- AHHH.”

You scream when Henry turns visible. Meanwhile the Barnes kids and Steve laugh at your reaction.

“Sorry.” Henry says through his giggles.

“You’re two characters, smart.”

“Yeah, I’m Pugsley and Thing.”

“C’mon.” Lottie says as she starts making her way to her parents.

You and Steve follow her through the crowd until you reach Bucky and Sugar.

“You guys look amazing.” You say.

Bucky is dressed perfectly as Gomez in a black and gray striped suit and Sugar is killing it as Morticia in a long black dress, an equally as long black wig and Morticia’s signature makeup. In her arms is Peanut dressed as Pubert, the youngest Addams child.

“Us? You guys look so cute.” Sugar gushes.

“It was all Steve’s idea.”

“It was easy to come up with.” Steve smiles brightly.

The team slowly gathered around. Clint, Nat, Wanda and Vision were dressed up as ghostbusters. Sam was dressed as Dracula. Tony and Bruce didn’t really dress up. At least that’s what it looked like.

“Why didn’t you dress up?” Sugar shakes her head at them.

“We did.” Tony looks down at his The Flash graphic t-shirt. “I’m Sheldon Cooper. Bazinga.”

“And I’m Bill Nye.” Bruce fixes his bow tie.

“Mama can we go now?” Lottie points towards an entrance.

“Yes we can sweet Angel. Make sure you have your basket. Henry you too.”

Bucky hands the kids their baskets and holds one up to you. “For Bee’s first Halloween.”

“Thank you.”

The Barnes’ lead the way to the entrance Lottie pointed at a big sign that read ‘Trick or Treat Lane’. Parents were lined up with their kids to get their candy. There were employees all standing next to boxes of candy, handing it out to all the kids.

“Twick oh tweat.” Lottie holds up her basket. She looks bored to be there but she’s capturing Wednesday Addams’ character perfectly.

“Trick or treat.” Henry’s next.

You watch as Steve excitedly walks up to the first person with Bee’s basket in hand.

“Can you say trick or treat, Bee?”

Bee just blows a raspberry and kicks her feet. The group goes down the very long trick or treat set up grabbing full sized candy bars and filling the kids baskets. Once that’s done everyone goes their separate ways to enjoy some of the other activities.

“Let’s go to the pumpkin station.” You pull Steve along and he happily follows you.

“Hello. Take a seat and we will give you each a pumpkin. You can either carve or paint your pumpkin just make sure you put all the tools back once you’re done.” The attendant explains.

Steve takes Bee out of the baby carrier and sits her on the table. She immediately grabs the small pumpkin and starts smacking it.

“Are you excited Bee?” You ask as you lean over to look at her. She smiles and coos while she pats the pumpkin in front of her. “Alright, let's get to painting.”

You and Steve spend a few minutes painting and laughing at Bee’s reaction to everything happening around her. She’s a very curious child.

“I need your hand honey.” Steve says.

“What for?”

“You’ll see.” Steve takes your offered hand and you shudder when you feel the cold paint being slathered on.

“Alright, what do you think?”

Steve turns the pumpkin around for you to see. It has his handprint in one color, then your handprint over his and finally Bee’s little print over yours.

“Aaww Steve, that’s so cute.” You lean in and give him a quick kiss. “I love it.”

“Now let me see yours.”

“Oh it’s not as good as yours. It’s just a little Bee and her keeper.”

Steve smiles again. You love to see him like this. Happy and carefree with Bee in his arms. He makes you swoon when he flashes that smile in your direction.

“It’s a great pumpkin Honey.”

After the pumpkin painting you both went off to find more games. You played Witch’s hat ring toss and won a little stuffie for Bee. Steve played the wheel of doom which had different dares on it. He had to eat a bug, a fake one at least. You entered the family costume contest and came in 2nd place. Steve insisted on having some pictures taken of the three of you at the Photo Booth.

“Where to next?”

“Steebie!” You both turned to look for Charlotte in the crowd. “Come dance.”

You find her at the edge of the dance floor with Henry holding Peanut. This time you carry Bee as you make your way to the kids.

“You wanna dance with me sweetheart?”

“No.” Lottie shakes her head. “I wanna dance with Bee. I can hold her. Here.” She holds up a bag of goodies for Steve to take, which he does reluctantly. Then Lottie holds her arms out for Bee.

“Make sure to support her head, Lottie.”

“I know. I take good care of her.” Lottie smiles at a babbling Bee. “Let’s dance Bee.”

With careful steps she gets to the dance floor while Henry takes Peanut and follows Lottie. Clint’s kids and Sam’s nephews were already on the dance floor. The Monster Mash came on the speaker and Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you both watched the kids. Just as she promised, Lottie takes care of Bee while bopping along to the music. The other kids keep a protective semicircle around the youngest kids so no one accidentally bumps into them. It’s very sweet to watch. After dancing along to another song Lottie brings Bee back to you. Steve takes her and places her back in the baby carrier.

“Ok, I need a caramel apple.” You tell Steve as you take his hand and start dragging him in the direction of the stand.

“Whatever my Honey wants, my Honey gets.” Steve chuckles at your eagerness for the sweet treat.

You run into Sugar, Nat and Sam all waiting in line for an apple too.

“Cara mia.” Bucky says as he appears out of thin air. He takes his wife’s hand and leaves a trail of kisses from her hand up her arm and ending on her neck.

“You two disgust me.” Sam mutters.

“I think it’s cute.” You counter.

“That’s because you’re in love too.” Sam argues as he takes another step closer to the stand.

After everyone got their treats you took a seat at one of the picnic tables. Steve looked over at your apple and how it was covered with almost every topping.

“That is a lot of sugar.” He murmurs as he watches you take a bite.

“I’ll be fine. There’s an apple underneath, it balances out.”

“Tell me that after your sugar crash.” Steve jokes but lets you have your treat. Instead he focuses on Bee and your friends.

The kids make their way to the table to drop off treats, prizes and other things before they go back out and get lost in the crowd. Bucky now has Peanut sitting on the table, face to face with Bee. They babble and coo at each other while you and Sugar finish your apples.

“What are we doing next?” Sugar asks as she gets up.

“How about the haunted house?”

“We can’t take the kids in there.”

“Here, give me Bee.” Sugar tells Steve. “You guys go first and take your time, have fun.”

“Are you sure?” You ask her but she only smiles as she coos at Bee.

“Yes, go have some one on one time.”

“Thanks, we’ll be back soon.”

Steve takes your hand and leads you into the entrance of the haunted house. By the sounds of screams you can tell that it’s actually scary. Steve looks back at you to make sure you really want to do this. You nod and he walks in. The lights are either low or flickering.

You held on tightly to Steve’s hand and still you screamed your head off when the first person popped out to scare you. After that you were really on edge. Every time you thought you were in the clear something or someone else would catch you off guard. By the time you walk out you’re sure the whole fair heard your screams. But still you laugh with Steve as you think back to how good you’d been scared.

Bucky waves you off when you come back to get Bee. He tells you to do a couple more things just you and Steve. While you’re both reluctant to leave Bee behind, you eventually give in and run off to do a few more things.

One of those things is apparently make out like teenagers in a dark corner of the fair.

“Steve.” You giggle between kisses. “We’re gonna get caught.”

“Who cares? I don’t.” Steve replies. His lips barely leaving yours, his hands roaming your curves.

But he isn’t the only one craving touch. You are too and reciprocate every touch and kiss. Still in the back of your mind you thought about how mortifying it would be if someone found you.

“Steve?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“You really don’t care if anyone finds us?” You pull back only to see Steve’s lust blown eyes looking down at you.

“How would you react if someone said ‘I saw Captain America making out with someone behind a building’?”

You smile, “I wouldn’t believe them for a second.”

“Exactly.” Steve leans in and places one more kiss on your lips. “But we can stop and go back.”

You pull him down by his neck. “A few more minutes won’t hurt anybody.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Seems like you got your treat.” Sugar murmurs as you pass by and you can’t help the heat that creeps up your cheeks. She just laughs as you take Bee from her.

“Should we go get daddy, Bee?” You rock her as she leans her head on your shoulder and yawns. “Yeah, let's get daddy and go home. I think we’ve had enough fun for the night.”

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Morticia.”

Steve is easy to find. He’s talking with Clint, Bucky and Sam about watching some game. When you get close enough he smiles at you and the sleeping little Bee in your arms.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s already asleep.”

“It is past her bedtime.” He says, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I gotta get my girls home.”

The guys say their goodnights and let you go on your way.

It’s a quick and quiet walk back home. You take Bee up to her room and change her out of her costume and into some cozy pajamas. By the time you’re done getting Bee and yourself into comfortable pajamas Steve is already on the couch with the basket of candy. You sigh as you sit next to him and take the piece of candy he offers you.

“So what should we watch?” He asks as he turns on the tv.

“We have to watch my favorite halloween movie, Hocus Pocus.”

“That’s the one with the witches that are sister’s right?”

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. “Have you seen it already?”

“No, but I’ve heard about it.”

“Perfect. After that we can watch The Addams Family. That way you’ll get why Bucky and Mags make perfect sense and Gomez and Morticia.”

“Whatever you want, Honey.”

Steve pulls you in close. The two of you snuggle as you introduce him to the Sanderson sisters. Overall the first Rogers’ family Halloween was a sweet success.

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