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jtargaryen18 · 8 days ago

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The Last Lantern ~ Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Words: 3.5k

Pairings (to come): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers

Story: You and your three best friends from college booked a posh, month-long tropical island getaway exclusively for women. When dinner is over, and the champagne stops flowing, it's time to get this party started.

What happens next, no one could have anticipated...

A/N: I've been battling writer's block for weeks. When I decided to just start writing something, this is what happened...

TW: Duplicity, drugging, kidnapping, stalking, tree sex, and lightning bolts. Many more to come...

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18. I do not consent to copying, translating, or posting my work on other apps.

"There she is!" Sadie's voice pulled your attention to your group of waiting friends.

Sadie looked like a movie star as she rose the the elegant table, gracefully wearing stilettos so high they'd make your nose bleed. She looked beautiful in the forest green cocktail dress she wore, her hair shining in gorgeous red spirals and her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She managed to hug you tight with a full champagne glass held in one hand. The jasmine and rose scent she wore unmistakably Chanel No. 5.

Mina and Ellen were waiting to hug you next and they were dressed to the nines too. Mina wore her favorite "little black dress" and her dark hair was elegantly swept up into a sophisticated style you'd never seen her wear - but it suited her. Excitement lit up her dark eyes and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Or alcohol, considering she almost lost her balance on her high heels when she welcomed you with a hug.

But Ellen, well, she was a masterpiece in a deep sapphire-blue dress that showed off her gorgeous figure, highlighting the cool, jewel undertones of her flawless brown skin. She'd worn her hair up too, showing off her slender, elegant neck and the golden string of delicate diamonds she wore. Her hug was warm, her smile wide as she stepped back and her gaze swept over you.

Yeah, next to your friends who looked like a trio of goddesses, to say you were lacking was an understatement. You were in jeans and T-shirt with a light jacket and sneakers. You had no makeup on, your hair in its normal style. You felt pretty lucky that none of the staff said anything to you. You wouldn't be surprised at all if there were an imposed dress code. All you could do was hope your luck held out.

"I'm glad you finally made it," Ellen said. "What happened with your flight?"

Your flight had been delayed by two hours because of the hurricane that had threatened the eastern seaboard for the last week. When you finally reached your destination airport, you had to try and contact the folks who were running Elysium to arrange for transportation since you'd missed their shuttle earlier. After an hour or so of no one answering, and your friends weren't answering either, you were about to give up. But when you saw an Elysium limousine at the front of the airport. You'd dashed out to ask if you could get a ride and explained your situation. The older driver smiled, explaining you were exactly why he returned to the airport.

It was a huge relief. The four of you had been planning this vacation to Elysium for literally months. The month-long island stay was exclusive, expensive, with a waiting list two years long.

When you arrived, they immediately hustled you to a waiting helicopter and flew you with your belongings to the island. You'd been shown to your room where you left your things and you'd immediately headed to the dinner event. You'd probably missed most of it. You were hoping you could still get something to eat. You'd brought a couple of protein bars for your trip and it was all you'd eaten today.

Blowing out an exhale, you shook your head. "I tried to text you guys," you explained. "My flight was delayed by two hours because of Hurricane Arlene. I got to the airport and I was calling Elysium, calling you guys. I couldn't get anyone to answer. Finally, they sent another limousine to get me and then flew me over here."

"We were talking about the cell phone thing," Mina said, walking around their table to retake her seat. "It must be bad cell coverage or something. None of us have gotten a single bar since we arrived here on the island."

"Which sucks because I promised my kids I'd call them each night before they went to bed," Sadie said, sitting between Mina and Ellen. She was the only one in your group who had kids -- the cutest like girls, one and three, with curly red hair just like hers. Their father recently left the picture and she'd been despondent. Trying to find a way to cheer her up was ultimately the reason they were there.

"Well, we'll ask someone," you said, knowing how important that was. "I'm sure there's some way to get a phone call out. I mean they have to for emergencies, right?"

Sadie nodded, downing her champagne.

Now that you were there, you took a moment to look around. The dinner scene was pure paradise—a secluded beachfront on a tropical island, where the golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the pristine white sands. A long, elegant table stretches beneath a canopy of swaying palm trees, adorned with soft, flowing linens in ivory and gold. The table settings are exquisite, with fine china, crystal stemware, and gold-rimmed plates reflecting the candlelight flickering in delicate glass holders.

Above, an enchanting display of lanterns, suspended from the trees and wooden posts, sway gently in the island breeze, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene. Some were traditional paper lanterns, their intricate designs filtering the light in mesmerizing patterns, while others were delicate glass orbs filled with twinkling fairy lights.

Chefs in tall white hats and immaculate coats move gracefully between stations, preparing and plating gourmet dishes with the precision of artists. Freshly grilled seafood, vibrant tropical salads, and decadent desserts are arranged on each plate like masterpieces. A sommelier moves between guests, pouring glasses of the finest wines and champagne, the bubbles catching the candlelight in an effervescent dance.

A live string quartet played in the background, the melody of their songs mingling with the sound of waves lapping at the shore. The musicians, dressed in crisp white and soft linen, performed a classical piece, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and enchantment. You smiled at the magical feeling of everything all around you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a masterpiece of deep purples, fiery oranges, and velvety blues. The guests, exclusively women, dressed in elegant evening attire like your friends, toasting the moment's beauty. Laughter and conversation drifted through the air like music.

You sat in the empty chair at the table with your friends. As you settled in, you noticed the empty champagne bottle under the table. Another was open on the table, and it was nearly empty. Reaching for the empty glass, you smiled."Can I have the rest?" You pointed at the bottle.

The group of them laughed. "Of course," Ellen told her, pouring it in your glass herself. "It's really good."

"It must be. Thank you."

"Now that we're all here," Mina said, raising her glass, "here's to the best month-long goddamn girls' vacation fucking ever!"

Cheering, you clinked your glasses together for her toast. Just as you were about to take a drink, a voice over a loudspeaker said, "Ladies, welcome!"

Holy shit! Tony Stark stood at the podium before your gathering, his back to the trees off the beach. The four of you exchanged glances with excitement. You'd been told a celebrity or two might be on the island during your stay. You were expecting an influencer or minor actor. None of you expected Tony Stark, devastatingly handsome in his immaculate tuxedo, to be here for your island getaway.

"Have you had a wonderful evening so far?" he asked, his hazel-eyed gaze behind his trademark glasses skimming over all of you.

As enthusiastic calls and whoops rose to answer his question, you looked around. There were probably a dozen tables gathered, all ladies who had booked this vacation. It was a little interesting that you all seemed to be a younger crowd, twenties and thirties. Hell, you and your friends had all gone to college together and you actually planned the trip to celebrate your thirtieth birthdays.With the money it took to book this island getaway, an opulent women's retreat, you would have expected to see at least a couple of older ladies.There wasn't a single one.

Taking a sip of the champagne, you listened to Tony Stark thank all the benefactors and corporations that made this event possible. Event? That sounded odd because you’d signed up for a month-long luxury getaway with your best friends from college. He made it sound like some big charity or scientific event.

The inside of your mouth tingled. You stopped looking into your half-full champagne glass. There was a strange aftertaste to the sparkling beverage. Putting it back on the table, you returned your attention to the billionaire still speaking.

“Now, are you all excited to get started?” Tony asked.

The cheers from all of you were modest.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

You all whooped and cheered while he motioned with his hands for more. Louder, louder. When the lot of you finally hit the right decibel, he conceded.

“We have two awesome OG members of the Avengers tonight helping us get this party started,” he continued. “They’re not as awesome as me, granted. But they’re still pretty awesome. Give it up for Hawkeye and the Black Widow.”

More cheering as the pair of Avengers walked out to join Tony. You studied them hard. It was indeed Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Wow. They weren’t dressed for the occasion but wore their uniforms, and you guessed that maybe that was to lend authenticity to their presence. The Black Widow was amazingly beautiful, with luminous green eyes and a perfect figure with the right combination of tone and curves. When you gazed at Clint Barton, you found his gaze on you. At that point, you stopped staring.

“Ladies, if you’re finished with your meal and refreshments,” Tony said, “let’s start the show.”

After more applause, Tony stepped back, and workers for the event came and took away the background that had been behind him, which ended up being a few greenery pieces and a couple of potted plants. They revealed a pathway leading into the deep wooded area of the island. And the path revealed was beautiful, lit by more small lanterns to lead the way.

"Ladies," Clint Barton called, "form a line right here." He pointed to the space before him, and just like that, women from other tables spilled out and formed a line, some steady on their feet, others not so much. "You'll head down the path. When you reach the last lantern, you'll know you're in the right place.

Ellen, Mina, and Sadie rose from the table, going in that direction. Mina still didn't look so steady on her heels, but Sadie carefully squeezed your upper arm. "Come on, bitch. Time to party!"

Smiling, you rose, hanging back and watching the other women wobble on their heels to get in line for whatever came next. You followed your friends and ended up the last in line for whatever island adventure you were about to embark on.

Mina and Sadie giggled like teenagers when they approached, asking if they could go in together. With a beautiful smile, the Black Widow granted their request. Ellen stepped up next, and only then did you notice that Clint Barton scanned her with some high-tech wand he held in his hand. The Black Widow had a tablet in her hand, and after the scan, a bunch of stats on Ellen flashed on the screen. You tried to read it but didn't get very much of it. You could have sworn you saw "last menstrual cycle" on the device.

The fuck?

You watched Ellen wander in, looking all around her in wonder.

Then it was your turn, and you were the last one. When you stepped up, again, Clint Barton gave you that assessing stare.

"Name?" he asked, smiling after a moment. You gave him your name, and he scanned you with the wand. Immediately, you looked to see what was on the screen the Black Widow held, but she shifted, pulling it out of your view.

"Go ahead," Barton told you, motioning you forward with his hand. "Look for the last lantern."

With no idea what to expect, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started walking into the island's heart. You could have sworn you heard Clint Barton behind you say something and then "dressed like that?"

"It doesn't make a difference," you thought the Black Widow said.

Were they talking about the fact that you were dressed for the grocery store and not as a guest on their upscale, luxury island? You felt bad enough as it was. But considering what you paid and that you couldn't control the weather, they'd just have to deal. You were here, and honestly, as a chilly breeze blew against your back, you were a little grateful that you weren't in a skimpy cocktail dress or heels.

You'd wandered several feet in when you noticed you didn't see anyone else. Where were Mina, Sadie, and Ellen? They'd been right in front of you. You stopped, taking a whiff of the air, trying to pick up traces of Sadie's perfume. But you didn't smell anything besides the tropical paradise all around you, the scent of the ocean beyond.

Everything felt peaceful, and beautiful birds flew around you, singing to announce the approaching night. You appreciated the view, but you were puzzled because, best you could tell, there were forty-some other women on this island. Where were they now? You'd watched most of them walk down the same path you took, but where had they gone?

What were you supposed to be doing anyway? It was getting dark.

Someone screamed, and you froze. It sounded like Mina. Oh, shit. What was going on with this place?

"Mina?" you called back. There was no answer. The birds stopped singing, but the dull roar of the ocean never ceased. Your heart pounded in fear, drowning it all out. "Mina!"

You took off in the direction you thought the scream came from; none of the other women, including your friends, were in sight. You stopped after a few minutes to catch your breath, your mind scrambling. "Mina!" you yelled again. Surely to fuck someone could hear you, right?

You kept moving, but a sense of foreboding sent a chill down your spine. Something wasn't right here. At all. A rustling sound had you spinning around, looking for the source of that noise. You saw nothing. Anxiety kept your heart flying and sped up your breathing.

The air around you stilled, the kind of silence that crawls under your skin, a warning that something isn't right. You weren't alone. Someone else was there. You heard them. More rustling sounds made your breath hitch. You still can’t see whoever stalked you, but you know someone's there. Was it one of the other women?

Then, the sound of the branches snapping—the faintest rustle—drew your attention upward, and it was like an image from a nightmare. From the highest point of the tree you stood under, a huge man drops like a shadow, moving too fast for you to react, a blur of motion. When he lands, his presence fills the space like a predator closing in. His body is built like a weapon, sleek but powerful, and even without seeing his face, something about how he moves sends a chill down your spine. Every motion is precise and controlled—this isn't just a man; it's an extension of violence itself.

You can barely make out the outline of his mask, but even from a distance, you feel the cold, soulless gaze through it. It was unsettling how his mask absorbs the light, hiding the person behind it. It made him feel more like a ghost than a man. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The quiet intensity of his every movement is enough to tell you he’s been watching you the whole time, waiting for the right moment.

His hand moves to the dark metal arm—part of him, part of the weapon—glinting ominously in the dim light. A flick of the wrist and a knife appears as though it’s always been there, like an extension of his body. He’s calm, too calm, and it’s terrifying. A chill runs up your spine as you realize this isn't just a guy in a costume. It’s something worse. A hunter.

And I’m his prey.

You were frozen to the spot, staring at the dangerous-looking man who just jumped down from the tree. Intense, pale blue colored eyes peered at you from the top of the black mask covering his lower face. His longer hair hung in shining dark waves around his face, and the effect was terrifying. The man had a knife, for fuck's sake.

You shook your head before you could think of a thing to say. "Nuh-uh."

You cut and run, sprinting like hell in the opposite direction. You didn't know what was going on here, but this was not how you expected your month-long bestie Island luxury resort getaway to go. At all. You hauled ass, trying not to trip as you ran, hoping to find the entrance with Hawkeye and Black Widow. Maybe one of them could deal with the guy chasing you now.

When he grabbed the back of your jacket, he used it to pull you to a halt. You tried to scream, but nothing came out. Scrambling in fear, you unzipped your jacket, letting him pull it off you as you darted ahead. Your heart hammered in your chest. You ran as fast as you humanly could.

As you ran, you passed another woman fleeing in terror; her shoes were gone, and her elegant silver dress had ripped. You changed directions to head for her. But out of nowhere, the Falcon swooped in, grabbing the woman like a hawk snatching up a field mouse while in flight. He carried her up and away.

What the fuck was happening?

Your heart pounded in your chest. The masked man's footsteps pounded behind you. You were so busy glancing back at the man trying to catch you barely missed being struck by a massive bolt of lightning. Lightning? From fucking where? You hid behind a bigger tree and looked to the sky for a coming storm. It wasn't a storm you saw. You saw an unbelievable sight in the tree next to the one where you hid. A woman from the dinner party, a pretty blonde with a red dress and red lipstick, was pinned to a tree a good twenty feet up.

What?

Random lightning strikes had you flinching and squinting to make out what was happening there. Another blond, huge and muscular, impossibly hovered up there with her, fucking her into the tree with abandon. The top half of him was bare, the woman's legs wrapped around his slim waist, her red heels digging into his navy-colored pants.

Oh, my God. Is that Thor?

When another lightning strike hit too close to you, you screamed. When you started running again, you ran right into the masked man. A metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you off your feet and against a body that was just as hard. Your breath huffed out as he pinned you to his side in an unrelenting grip and took off running.

Thank God you hadn't drank much. The sight of the wooded area of the island flew by at terrifying speed, and you tucked your head against him to keep from getting sick. It felt like you were flying. You moved so fast, and all you could do was hope that, somehow, this was part of the arrangement. It was just something fun they were surprising you with. An immersive experience that you'd all laugh about later.

But then Falcon grabbed that woman... And Thor fucked another woman up a tree. That didn't seem like something that would be on the itinerary...

You cried out for help as you were carried away at a dizzying speed. That metal arm tightened around you in response, compressing your ribs. His metal arm. It hit you then who exactly had snatched you away.

You'd been captured by the fucking Winter Soldier.

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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 6 months ago

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Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?