#Zeus!Steve x reader

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]

THE TIMELINE

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”

- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.

I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC

The gods were angry.

Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.

How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?

Stupid humans, foolish humans.

You didn’t understand.

But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.

The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.

One soul.

They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.

Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.

So they did something about it.

With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.

It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.

He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.

The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.

Bigger, heavier, more powerful.

You dropped your basket and ran.

Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.

You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!

People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.

“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”

The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.

The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.

By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.

As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.

Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?

You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--

Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.

Zeus had landed in Athens.

And you couldn’t find Steve.

Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.

A warning.

The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.

Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.

He had to find you.

The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.

And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.

Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.

He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.

Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.

Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.

Steve didn’t want to die without you.

He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.

A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.

Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.

Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.

You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.

He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.

A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.

Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.

But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.

Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.

The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.

Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.

“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”

A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.

You couldn’t feel anything.

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter 12: Wild Uncharted Waters

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Parings: Quinn Fabray x Reader / eventual Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Reader has a Penis, drug use, attempted abuse

Previous Chapter

“Papa, Halloween tonight?” Finley asked as you sipped your coffee and pushed the cart.

“A few more days bub.” You say lifting up a decoration.

“Mom, can we be Barbie?” Beth asked Quinn as they looked through the costumes.

“No mommy! No Barbie!” Fin huffed. “I wanna be Ariel!”

“I’m surprised she didn’t say Bluey.” You muttered lowly for your wife to hear before turning towards your toddler. “It’s okay, squirt. Quinn, you be Barbie with Beth and I’ll be Prince Eric.” You gesture to the costume. 

“But then who will be Ken?” Beth huffed.

“I’ll be Prince Eric and Prince Ken.” You shrug. “Two birds, one stone.”

“No! We need beach Ken! Moooooom!” Beth whined.

“Well then take a page out of Barbie’s book. Ken is just there; she doesn’t need him to help define her.” You say to your oldest.

“Nice.” Quinn nodded with a grin.

“Fine.” Beth sighed.

“Yayyyy! Ariel!!!!!” Fin shouted in joy.

“Sorry.” Quinn chuckled at a couple looking over with a smile.

“Your girls are so adorable.” The woman smiled before rolling off.

“Can uncle Kurt make ours?” Beth gasped.

“Here, give him a call to see what he says.” You chuckled, handing the phone over. Truthfully you know he’s busy he’s been working on the spring collection to be ahead of the game.

“Hi uncle Kurt!” Beth smiled as she twirled around. “I’m good; you?” She giggled looking over at you and Quinn. “I was wondering if you could make our costumes for Halloween?……Mom and I are going as Barbie and pop and Fin are Prince Eric and Ariel.” 

“Really?! Oh Uncle Kurt I’m so excited! Okay! See you then bye love you!” Beth hung up, handing you the phone. “Oh my gosh uncle Kurt and Blaine are gonna help me and Fin make ours tonight they said you just have to get us there.”

“You got it.” You grinned.

“I’ll drop them off before we get ready for tonight.” Quinn nodded. “Would have been a little better if we took them tomorrow night instead. Since the musical is tomorrow night.”

“Awww aunt Rachel’s having an opening night.” Beth sighed. 

“You can catch it next time.” Quinn smiled.

“Yuck musicals!” Fin stuck her tongue out.

“She got that from you.” Quinn glared at you.

“I didn’t say anything, and besides Beth we’re going to the fair tomorrow.” You chuckled as Quinn glared at you walking towards the halloween bags. You high fived Fin before handing her a puppuccino. You chuckled seeing whip cream all over her tiny face. “Tasty!” She giggled looking up at you. Beth giggled at her sister's mess. You snapped a picture before wiping her face. 

“We’re really going to the fair?” Beth asked.

“Yup! Nat, Nate, and Lila are coming with us.”

“Oh awesome! I can’t wait!” Beth squealed before listing off all the rides she wants to try out now, finally being older and tall enough.

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After dropping off the girls the two of you dressed up in your costumes and walked towards Thor’s house.

“Danny, Sandy, welcome!” Thor chuckled letting you and Quinn inside. 

“Zeus huh? Here I thought you’d be Thor the Norse God.” You grinned.

“I thought it was a bit on the nose.” Thor nodded before leading you both to the party.

Tony and Pepper were mobsters who were talking to Steve and Bucky as Maverick and Goose. When you caught sight of a certain redhead.

You gulped looking at Natasha who donned a catsuit that was clad against her curvy body. 

“Out to fight crime?” You rasped.

“Too many greasers on this street.” She winked.

You chuckled letting your hand run through your hair. “I feel a little ridiculous. I wanted to be a firefighter.” You shrugged.

“Don’t it’s…” Natasha gulped. “It’s working.” You looked so unbelievably dreamy to her she didn’t think that was possible. She already finds you charming and now with the clad white t shirt and leather jacket. Not to mention your ass looks great in those black jeans, and if she looks a little longer she can make out your package. 

“I still think the firefighter would have been cooler.” You shrugged.

“Oh my gosh enough about the firefighter!” Quinn rolled her eyes as she walked up.

Natasha chuckled as Bruce walked up.

“Hey Bruce.” You grinned. “Nice Batman costume.”

“Thanks! You know it’s basically the one from the movies you can punch it and I won’t feel a thing. Come on, try it.”

“I shouldn’t.” God, I wanna punch you in the face. You shook your head.

“Come on grease lightning show me whatchu got.” He taunted.

“Bruce.” Natasha warned him.

“What? How bad can it-“ suddenly he felt you strike him in the stomach and lost his breath. “Oh my God.” He gasped.

“Great form Y/L/N!” Steve clapped.

“Y/N!” Quinn growled, yanking you away.

“What? He told me too!” You huffed.

“This is supposed to be the real thing! What happened?” Bruce gasped.

“You asked someone who boxes to punch you. What did you think was going to happen?” Natasha rolled her eyes leaving Bruce to grab a drink.

“Wait, boxes?” His eyes widened.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Quinn who glared at Steve. “Okay you need to tell Y/N what you saw.”

“I know.” Steve sighed.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Bucky hissed.

“Because I wanted to deal with our situation first. I’m glad I did. I want Y/N to believe me.” Steve explained.

“Well you need to let them know soon they deserve to know.”

“I know Buck.” Steve sighed.

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“Y/N!” You turned looking for who called out your name.

“Pssst Y/N!” 

You huffed feeling a candy corn hit your head. Looking over at the culprit it was none other than Thor himself. 

He didn’t speak but he did gesture to having a smoke or in other words ‘cheifin’, ‘sesh’, or ‘420’.

You looked back at your wife. “Go on, I'm gonna catch up with Christine Strange.”

You grinned as he waved you over away from the party towards the backyard.

“What’s up Danny Zuko!” Val smirked, already sitting on a patio chair.

“What’s up.” You chuckled as she waved around a blunt. “Ooooh yes please.”

Carol laughed sitting next to her wife.

“What’s up Quill, Gamora!” You grinned giving them a side hug. “What are you guys?”

“Oh I’m Jason!” Peter quickly placed his mask on.

“Freddy Krueger.” She said, lifting up her knife hand.

“Spooky.” You chuckled. “And you two?” You nod towards Carol and Val.

“I’m the moth, she's the flame.” Carol smirked, leaning over to peck Val’s cheek.

“Hey Y/N! I got us all drinks that blend well with the blunt.” Korg grinned while walking outside.

“Hey Korg, long time no see! I haven’t seen you at the gym lately.” You smiled while taking the Halloween themed drink.

“I just got married actually.” He smiled.

“Congratulations man!” You smiled.

“Thanks!” Korg blushed.

“So where is the lucky lady?”

“She’s at work right now but she helped me make the couples game tonight!”

“Couples game?” You asked as the rotation made its way to you. You took it gladly before inhaling.

“Yeah! It’s like a game show for couples.” Korg nodded as you handed it to him.

“Cool.” You said before exhaling.

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Natasha looked around wondering where you went off too. She hasn’t you since you punched Bruce. All she sees is Quinn talking to Christine as Stephen looks bored.

“Looking for a certain greaser?” 

Natasha looked over at Wanda. “Maybe.” 

“I think I saw Y/N go out back.” Vis pointed.

“Thanks… great costumes by the way. What superhero are you guys supposed to be?”

“Whatever we had to make.” Vision shrugged.

“Gotcha.” Nat nodded before going out back.

“Damn it, Vis.” Wanda whined.

“What?”

“You told her where Y/N is.”

“And?”

“Y/N is married and she-“ Wanda looked around before harshly whispering. “She has feelings for Y/N.”

Vis sighed. “Honey if she does you can’t stop it. No one can. The heart will always want what it wants.”

“Still.” Wanda grumbled. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Meanwhile back outside.

“Nat hi!” You smiled with a dopey grin on your face.

“Hey Stoney Bologna.” She smiled walking over.

“Hey Nat.” Everyone coughed.

She looked around for a seat.

“Here take mine.” You cleared your throat standing up.

“Oh no you don’t have to do that.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please I-“

“Just sit on Danny’s lap!” Carol smirked.

“You’re so bad.” Val muttered in her ear watching you bring Natasha on your lap.

“Oh baby I can be really bad.” Carol husked back.

“Fuck.” Val chuckled darkly, feeling her cock harden.

“Hi.” Nat shuttered.

“Hey. Are you cold?”

“A bit.”

You quickly shrugged your jacket off bringing it around her and you like a blanket. She felt your arms snake around her and laid her arms over yours.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Anytime.” You grinned. “Wanna try my drink? Korg made it. It’s really good.”

“Sure.” The redhead moved towards the table causing you to gulp seeing her back side as she stretched for the drink

Val smirked at you checking Natasha out. “How ya doing over there Y/L/N?”

“Good.” You grunted as the redheaded Russian moved again this time bringing the drink with her.

Val and Carol giggled as the blunt came to you both.

“Let’s play suck and blow.” Val smirked.

“What’s that?” Nat asked.

“Well you inhale and exhale in Y/N's mouth then Y/N will do it in Carols.” Val smirked.

“Nat, you don’t have too.” You say before making a face at Val.

“I can do it.” The red head inhaled before turning towards you.

You leaned in parting your lips as she blew smoke into your mouth, her lips ghosting over yours. You inhaled her eyes looking at your lips. You broke the trance turning towards Carol. Exhaling in the same manner. She doesn’t know why but seeing you so close to Carol sort of made her jealous. 

You pulled back, noticing a change in the atmosphere.

“You okay?” You whispered near her ear. “Do you need water or anything?”

She shook her head.

One of your arms dropped from her waist resting on her knee. You gave her a light squeeze.

“You sure?”

She smiled softly before relaxing in your arms. “I think I’m just high.” 

You chuckled about to move your hand when she placed hers over yours. She squeezed your hand feeling your thumb gently rubbing against her knee.

“So I’m not dumb they’re clearly into one another.” Korg whispered to Thor watching Nat giggle at whatever you said. 

“Hmhm.” He nodded, texting his wife to make sure Quinn didn't come outside. 

It’s not that they want them to cheat, they just want them to realize they can do so much better. It all started back when Tony had his block party. Slowly the gang all realized Quinn and Bruce were awful and did not deserve you or Natasha.

“Can you imagine them fucking? My God the steam that would come off of them.” Carol smirked looking at you and Nat.

“Fuck that’s hot stop making me hard.” Val muttered while taking a drink.

“Wanna go take care of it?” Carol smirked.

“Uh we’ll meet you guys inside.” Val spoke abruptly standing up with Carol.

“They're gonna do it in the restroom.” You chuckled.

“How do you know?” Nat chuckled.

“I just know.”

“Alright guys we’re going inside so we can get ready for the game.” Korg smiled before walking back inside.

“I guess we should go too?”

Natasha stood giving you a perfect view of her plump latex covered ass in your face. She turned smirking down at you, clearly catching you checking her out.

“Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“Anytime.” You grinned standing up taking your jacket back shrugging it on. Watching her walk towards the sliding door giving her ass an extra sway. She looked so sexy in that suit now all you could think about was taking it off of her. You were incredibly blue balled and needed release as soon as possible.

You both walk back inside and she gets pulled away by Wanda so you walk over to your wife holding her from behind to show her how hard you are.

“Oh my gosh.” She says turning in your arms.

“Quickie in the bathroom?”

She blushes and nods before turning to Christine. “Excuse us.”

As soon as the door closes you kiss your wife before twirling her against the sink. You unbutton her skin tight pants, pulling them down just a bit before pulling your jeans down. You rub your throbbing member against her slit. It's been a while since you both have done this.

You gather enough wetness before pushing inside of her. You moan hands on her hips as she grips the sink and the wall.

“Fuck!” You grunt, thrusting harder and harder.

She lets go of the sink reaching down below to rub her clit. “Fuck I’m close.” 

“Let go.” You grunt wrapping your arms around her as she moves back against you cuming around your cock. “That’s it. Fuck I’m gonna cum too.” You close your eyes imagining Natasha with her catsuit. A few short hard thrusts and you finally came and you came hard.

You pant trying to catch your breath feeling yourself deflate. Quinn pushes you back a bit as you slip out. She turned to sit on the toilet as you stuff yourself back in your jeans leaning your back against the wall as you catch your breath.

Quinn watched you through the mirror as she washed her hands. She briefly wonders why you were so hard and practically begged her silently for sex. She saw what Natasha was wearing but she didn't push it. Things have been tense like walking on thin ice that’s already cracking under her feet. She can feel her grasp on you is loosening. She's terrified of losing you completely.

“Ready?” You asked.

She turned and kissed you softly. “I am now.”

You cleared your throat as she fixed your hair and opened the door.

Natasha felt a little sad watching you walk in hand with your wife. She knows you two must have done the deed in the restroom. Vis mentioned hearing two people going at it earlier. She reminds herself that you’re married, and as much as she doesn’t like Quinn. It doesn’t change anything.

“Okay everyone my good friend Korg here is leading the couples game! Everyone take a seat please!” Thor gave a dopey smile, his arm around his wife Jane. He was a little tipsy and a bit high.

“Alllllllright welcome to Love on Avenger Lane! Where I, your host, will be quizzing you on how well you know your partner.” Korg beamed as his friend Meek handed out whiteboards, markers, and erasers. 

“We’ll start off with an easy one! First question: what is your boo’s favorite color?”

“Alright let’s have it!” Krog grinned as everyone turned their boards. 

“What? I hate that color.” Bucky huffed when Steve looked at his board. 

“We got our first wrong answer already!”

“But I thought you liked black.” Steve frowned.

“Ohh Steve said black, Bucky your favorite is?”

“Red.” He said..

“But you always wear black!” Steve threw his hands up.

“Black isn’t a color Steve!”

“And Buck Steve’s favorite is?” Korg moved along.

“Blue.” He muttered.

Steve felt guilty as that was his favorite color.

“Ohhh Bucky got it right. Tony? Pepper?”

The older couple smiled as they revealed their correct answers.

“We win.” Tony high-fived his wife.

“Psh we haven’t even gone yet.” Thor huffed.

“Alright let’s see it then?” Korg grinned.

Jane and Thor showed their boards both revealing Blue. 

“Nice!” They grinned.

“Y/N? Quinn?”

You and Quinn revealed your answers.

“Nice.” You grinned pecking your wife’s cheek.

“Nat, Bruce?”

Natasha sighed holding up her answer knowing he was going to get it wrong, but to her surprise he was correct.

“You got it.” She smiled softly.

“Like your eyes.” He shrugged.

You cleared your throat not meaning to ruin the moment, but subconsciously doing it out of jealousy. You don’t know why but Bruce was like nails on a chalkboard for you. You haven’t felt this way about a person since Rachel Berry.

“What is their favorite song?” Korg grinned.

Bruce cringed, holding up his answer.  

“Anything from Sia.” Yeah no that doesn’t fly it’s not who is their favorite artist it’s what is their favorite song. Natasha?”

“I fold.” She chuckled with a shrug.

“I’m not big on music.” Bruce shrugged.

“Easy, it's American Pie.” you grinned.

Natasha smiled, you remembered the story about her family and that song. You didn’t even notice the look of disdain your wife was making.

“Uhhh right okay Y/N? Quinn?” Korg stuttered.

Quinn grinned writing hers but when you held your boards up your smile fell.

“What? It's always been ‘Signs by bloc party” Quinn furrowed her brow.

“It's Golden Brown by The Stranglers.” Natasha looks up not realizing she spoke out loud.

“Oof this is awkward.” Korg chuckled into the mic, noticing the look on Quinn’s face. “Tony? Pepper?”

“Shoot to Thrill and Cruisin’ Correct again!

You zoned out as the others went on until the next question came up.

“Alright, what is your partner's favorite morning drink?”

You once again got Quinn’s right and she once again answered wrong.

“But you always start your morning with a protein smoothie.” she huffed.

“A cup of coffee with Silk creamer, especially the coconut.” Natasha winked at you.

Quinn was fuming how can she get your favorite drink but not her own husbands?

“Nat and Bruce?” Korg moved along.

“Coffee black.” they both answered.

Korga mimicked a buzzer sound.

“Breakfast tea.” Bruce smiled.

“Hot mocha with a sprinkle of cinnamon.” You muttered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Quinn furrows her brows at you. She didn’t like that you knew so much about the redhead. She wanted you to be focused solely on her.

“So it’s clear the two of you should be together.” Korg joked not realizing both parties were wildly uncomfortable. “Should not have said that…Moving on! Favorite movie!”

The couples began writing out their answers. Each couple was getting them right until once again Natasha and Bruce were up. They both answered wrong.

“It’s James Bond’s Moonraker.” You grinned.

Quinn bristled, writing hers down. 

“Okay; Y/N? Quinn?”

“Star Wars episode 6.” Quinn smiled in triumph; she knows this has to be it. She’s certain as she held up her board.

“It’s The Heat.” Natasha chuckled.

“I think I know my-“

“She’s right.” You mutter before holding yours up.

“Funny Girl, the Rachel Berry version. Yeah bud, that's not a movie.” Korg chuckled.

“Fine. Frozen.”

“Why would you say that?” Quinn hissed.

“You got a thing for Berry.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s thick considering you and Jolene over there have been getting your answers right all night.”

“Did she just call me Jolene?” Natasha chuckled to Bruce who cringed.

“At least she knows me.” You mutter.

“Uhh so things are getting a little heated let’s just say the winner of the night is Tony and Pepper. Congrats you won a bottle of champagne.”

“I want to go home. Now.” Quinn grit in your ear.

“That’s probably best.” You nodded still pissed off.

You both stood and you waved at Thor. “Thanks for the invite man, sorry shit got awkward.” You sighed as Quinn slammed the door.

“Aw come on you can’t leave yet! I was gonna ask if you could play a few songs?”

“Yeah let’s jam out!” Carol shouted.

“Maybe next time guys.” You shake your head. “Thanks again Thor.” You walk towards the front door seeing Natasha nearby. “I’m sorry about that, Nat, have a goodnight.”

“You have to stop apologizing for her.” Nat sighs and you just nod.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.” you say before walking out the door.

The walk home was silent. She was so far ahead of you which would normally make you upset but tonight you really just don’t care anymore.

You walk in the house locking it behind you before heading up stairs grabbing your shorts.

“So we’re not talking about it?” Quinn huffed as you stood by the bedroom door.

“Nope.” You answer, she scoffs in response as you walk off towards the guest room. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You were at a loss. It just didn’t feel like your marriage was working anymore. You squeeze your eyes shut, too tired to even pull that thread.

The following morning was silent. You did your normal routine breakfast, protein smoothie, and working out. You really needed it this morning. You gotta clear your head.

You and Quinn do your very best to avoid one another. Things were boiling and the cover of the pot was rattling off. You got the girls back from Kurt’s and by the time you got home she was gone.

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You were actually looking forward to the fair. Normally you didn’t care for them. Everything was dirty and sticky. The food was outrageously overpriced as are the rides, but being able to go with your girls and Natasha makes it all worth it.

You knock on her door as Fin rings the bell.

“Natttttty!” Fin giggled ringing the bell. “Natttttttyyyyy Fair!”

“I’m here, I'm here!”

“Hi Natty, I missed you.” Your daughter giggled.

“Hi sweetheart I missed you too. Hi Beth, have you been practicing?”

“Everyday!” She beams.

“That’s great dorogoy!” Natasha smiled before turning towards you. “I’m just going to get the kids.”

“Alright we’ll meet you at Clints.” You say walking towards your truck. You buckle Fin in her seat with Beth next to her.

You drive down across the street towards the Bartons when Natasha is walking out with Nate in her arms, the car seat in the other.

You hop out and fix up his car seat next to Fin’s as Beth and Lila go over the rides.

“No Cooper?” You ask Nat.

“He has a date tonight. I swear he’s growing up too fast.” Natasha whines.

“Yeah they do that alright.” You mutter looking in the rear view mirror at your girls.

“How has everything been?” She asks hesitantly.

“Not good.” You mutter.

“Well hopefully some overpriced food and funnel cake will take your mind off of everything for a bit.”

“I do love funnel cakes.” You chuckle.

“I know.” Natasha smiles.

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“Ooohh aunty Nat a Ferris wheel!” Lila beamed pointing at the lights.

“You two join the kids. Kate and I will grab some food with Mini Y/N.” Yelena smiled, nuzzling her nose against Fin’s cheek.

“Thank you.” You chuckled walking with Nat and the kids to the ferris wheel.

“I’m sorry if my sister is being bit much-“

“I love her, she's hilarious. This is the most I’ve laughed all week. Also you may have a competition now with Lena over Finley.”

“Finny and Nate are mine, she needs to back off.” She huffed making you laugh. 

The kids sit down when it’s yours and Natasha’s turn.

“I just want to say you two have the most beautiful family.” The carney smiled.

You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

“That’s the third time tonight.” Nat chuckled while sitting down.

“Well we can’t blame them, we are all incredibly good looking.” You give her the goofiest model face you can muster making her laugh. The Ferris wheel begins to move and Natasha out of habit takes your hand.

“You scared?” You ask.

“A bit.” She nods looking down.

“Don’t look down, focus on the music.”

“Are they playing Careless Whisper?” Natasha snickered as the ride slowly began going.

You chuckled, taking her finger and began singing.

“Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

Maybe it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say

We could have been so good together

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?”

Natasha giggled and you stretched your arm around her as you looked down at your daughter Beth making sure she’s okay. She was laughing with Lila. 

The Ferris wheel is playing romance music and you both can’t help but chuckle at the cheesy songs they play. That is until it’s your turn at the top. One of your favorite old songs began playing. It was Sing by Travis.

“I love this song.” You whispered.

“Sing it to me.” Natasha whispered back.

“Baby, you've been going so crazy 

Lately, nothing seems to be going right 

So low, why'd you have to get so low?

You're so…

You've been waiting in the sun too long”

“You have a really beautiful voice Y/N.”

“You do too ya know.” You give her lopsided grin.

Natasha blushes and looks up at the giant moon. “The moon is beautiful.” She says blissfully looking at the giant glowing moon.

“Yeah.” You briefly look but you can’t help but stare at her; entranced in a way by the glistening twinkle in her eyes.

She turns, feeling your gaze on her and she’s giving you that look. You’ve seen this look before. The ‘If you don't kiss me right now I might die’ look. It happened on the night of your birthday. You’ve seen it on your wife obviously, but you’ve also seen that same look on Sersi’s face, and a few other women. You never really had that feeling for them, but here now with Nat you’re questioning everything for the second time in your marriage. 

You look down at those very kissable lips. Subconsciously briefly licking your own lips before dragging your eyes up to her striking emerald eyes instead of the hazel you’re used to. Meanwhile she’s doing the same thing, both of you leaning towards one another when the song ended the Farris wheel continued its descent. You clear your throat as you break eye contact and look away.

The ferris wheel came to a stop when you both got out.

“That was boring.” Beth sighed, you wouldn’t know this for a while but Beth saw how close you and Nat were.

“How about that roller coaster over there!?” Lila beamed.

“Yeah! Can we!?” Beth asked.

“Sure.” You say lifting up Finley while Natasha takes Nate from Kate.

“We’ll take the kids.” Yelena grins, leaving you and Natasha to the fried feast. 

There’s a heavy silence in the air as you both eat.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” She sighs.

“Okay?” You furrow your brows.

“Well hey neighbors!” Tony chuckled while sitting down. “Thanks for the invite by the way.”

Natasha inwardly sighed of course he would get in the way.

“Sorry Tony.” You chuckled. 

“Because of this I’m taking some cotton candy.” He winked.

“Where’s Morgan?” You asked.

“I left her with Yelena and Kate.”

“Oh nice.” You chuckled and excused yourself to the restroom. “I’ll be right back.” 

Natasha waits for you to be out of ear shot.

“You idiot you just had to interrupt!”

“What?!” Tony huffed.

“I was literally about to tell Y/N everything!”

“Ohhh.” Tony bit his lip. “I can scram.”

“No, it's too late.”

“I’m glad blondie isn’t here. She’d suck all the fun out of this place. Can you believe her attitude last night?”

“I didn’t care for her Jolene comment.” Natasha grumbled taking a sip of her lemonade.

You walked up taking a seat eating your corn dog as the girls walked up.

“Papa! I want some too!” Fin whined.

“Don’t worry, love, you can have one too.” Yelena smiled.

“That was so much fun!” Beth said, taking a seat and eating her chicken tenders.

“Kate, are you feeling okay?” Yelena chuckled.

“Everything is spinning.” She groaned.

“Can’t take the heat anymore?” Tony smirked

“Excuse me.” Kate gagged before running towards a trash can.

“I’ll go take care of her.” Yelena sighed, handing you Fin. 

“Nooo Lennnna.” Fin whined.

“I’ll be back, lovebug.” She smiled, booping her nose.

“I feel betrayed.” Nat frowned.

“Hi Natty.” Fin smiled offering some of her corn dog.

“Thank you, Finny.” Natasha took a fake bite humming in response.

“Tasty.” Finley beamed before taking another bite.

“Aunty Natty!” Nate whined wanting her attention back.

“I’m right here handsome.” She chuckled, bouncing him on her leg as a reminder before feeding him a chicken tender.  

Tony looked over at you watching the way you looked at the redhead. He knows that look, it can’t be described by anything else but love.

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After another round of rides and too much funnel cake Beth asked to spend the night with Morgan and Lila. Yelena and Kate went back to school so it was just you the tots, and Natasha.

“Well thanks for coming with us tonight. Looks like they’re conked out.” Natasha smiled looking behind to see the two toddlers sound asleep in their car seats.

“Hmm.” You smile.

“Wanna come inside for a bit?”

You nod and you grab Nate’s car seat and Natasha takes Fin in her arms. It all felt so domestic seeing her holding your little girl, and you holding Nate.

You both lay then down on her sofa covering them up before walking into the kitchen. Natasha starts the kettle pulling down the tea box.

“Blackberry sage, my favorite.” You smiled softly.

“It’s now my favorite too. It's so good.” Natasha smiled, pulling down the honey and peeling an orange.

“Thank you, Nat.”

“So you wanna talk about it?”

“I have never wanted to be away from her in my life, and lately?” You sighed, rubbing your head as the kettle began boiling. “I just feel like I’m the only one trying anymore, and I’m so tired of it.” 

Natasha nodded in understanding before turning off the kettle and fixing your cup. She briefly wondered if she should tell you the truth but considering Quinn is at Rachel’s musical right now she decides it’s still not the time.

“You know what, no I don’t wanna talk about Quinn. What about you?”

“Well…” Natasha brings the cups over sitting down across from you. “I took your advice, or Hilary Duff’s and spoke with Thor and Val.”

“You did?” You beamed.

“Hmhm, I get my studio this week.” She smiled coyly.

“Nat, that is fantastic! I'm so happy for you. If you need help with anything I’m here for you.” You smile and she bashfully says thank you.

You both drink tea and talk about her plans for the next hour when you yawn.

“I should probably head home. I'm pretty tired.” You stretch standing up.

She nods and takes both our mug placing them in the sink before watching you lift Fin. She whines briefly before you whisper to her, calming her down. “Goodnight Nat.” You smile.

“Goodnight Y/N.” She whispers opening the door for you.

“Natty.” Fin whispers in her sleep. 

“Shhh its okay.” The Russian whispers kissing her cheek when you bring her in a hug carful not to crush or wake Fin.

“Thank you, for everything.” You whisper gently, kissing her cheek.

She nods and kisses your cheek in response. You both sigh hearing Fin babbling in her sleep. You squeeze her hand before making your way back home. She stays on her porch watching you walk inside your home before shutting the door. She was falling so hard for you with no end in sight.

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You made your way downstairs seeing a redhead at the stove. She was setting a tray of what looked like cupcakes down. 

“Hi.” You furrowed your brows with a smile.

“Hi.” She smiled back dipping her finger in batter before sticking it out for you to try. “Come on, try it. I know you want to.” She smirked turning toward you when you noticed she was wearing nothing but an apron. “Come on baby, take it.” She murmured now flush against you her finger found its way into your mouth. 

“Hmm.” You hummed as she took her finger back, replacing it with her lips. “Natasha.” You sighed against her lips feeling her hand rubbing your cock.

“Don’t you wanna taste me?”

Your eyes fluttered hearing her voice near your ear. 

“You’re drooling Y/N.” 

You reached up, wiping your mouth.

“Take me Y/N. Take me and make me yours.” She husked before you lifted her up against you kissing her passionately before setting her down on the island.

You pull at her apron, shoving your pants down making your cock spring to life. 

“Get inside of me I can take it.” She husks.

You groan feeling her wet cunt.

“Ohhhhh fuck!” She moaned as you pushed yourself through.

You groaned feeling your staff twitch inside of her. You lifted her legs on your shoulder pushing yourself deeper. 

“Ohhhh Y/N! Oh daddy that feels so good! You’re so deep inside of me!” Her guttural moans were nearly pornographic. You lean in, taking her lips against yours. “Harder!”

You grunted, speeding up the pace as you thrusted harder and harder. 

“Oh daddy right there! You’re so much better than Bruce he doesn’t even compare to you daddy, not even close.”

Her moans turned into wails. You could feel her twitch around you.

“Cum inside of me daddy I wanna feel you explode inside of me!”

You woke up with a gasp. You looked over seeing your wife asleep before noticing the time. It was 4 in the morning and you just came inside your boxers. “Fuck.” You whispered before quietly getting out of bed. You sighed, taking off the sticky shorts before cleaning up. It’s been a long time since you had a wet dream, but it was the absolute best fucking vivid sex dream you’ve ever had. 

You furrowed your brows seeing her phone light up. You creeped on her side of the room peeking at her phone.

‘Appointment for tubal ligation reversal’

You gasped she had her tubes tied this whole time. She was clearly lying about being pregnant. I fucking knew it! You inwardly screamed.

You seriously don’t even know where to start with her. She’s a liar and a big one. Now you’re really wondering if it was her that stole your dream away. You look down at her sleeping peacefully and for the very first time ever you wanted to deck your wife in the face. You wouldn’t of course but still the anger and betrayal was beaming at the edges.

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The following morning Quinn woke up and you weren’t there. She figured maybe you were still upset with her and when you noticed her in bed you left. Either way she feels like you’re starting to hate her. She bites her lip feeling like she wants to cry. She can feel herself losing you everyday. It’s like every single move she makes pushes you further and further away. It’s only now that she realizes she has someone that others would kill for. 

She got out of bed grabbing her robe and began searching for you. She went to the guest room and the girls rooms and couldn’t find you. She made her way downstairs noticing your running shoes were gone and Ollie was sitting by the door crying. She sighed that was a bad sign. You only run to clear your head especially when you’re extremely stressed out. She knows because you hate cardio. You're more of a lifting weights person you always have been. Plus you skipped breakfast which means you’re running long distance this morning.

When you do come back home you ignore her completely, only speaking to the girls. When she tried to speak to you all you replied was “I really need my space from you today. Please respect that.” Quinn in shock agrees and walks on eggshells every time she’s near you. She has to hand it to you though you do a great job of hiding it from the girls.

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You were thoroughly warned by Wanda this morning who said that there’s tons of kids who get bussed over here, and that you will need a lot of candy. It ended up working out perfectly. Quinn and Brittany are gonna hand out candy while you and Santana take the girls and Arlo trick or treating. 

Wanda also mentioned that your house wasn’t as spooky as the others and handed you two boxes of old Halloween decorations including a 10 foot tall skeleton. 

You and Santana were fixing up the front of the house when the Latina spoke up.

“Quinn mentioned you two have been fighting a lot lately. That you’re not even speaking to her.”

You sighed she always talks to them about the problems in your marriage. You hate when she drags them in your fights.

“Come on, I won't say anything to her. What happened Y/N I haven’t seen you this upset since she sold your motorcycle.

“I found out she has her tubes tied and lied to me about being pregnant. Really makes me wonder what else she's hiding from me.”

“She lied to you about being pregnant?” Santana said in shock.

“I was offered my dream job and she told me I couldn’t take it because she’s pregnant.”

“What a bitch. I’m sorry, Y/N, I swear I had no idea. What are you going to say to her?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I’m just so upset with her I can’t even look at her.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I wanted to hit her when I found out.” You sighed pausing your motions.

Santana looked taken back.

“You know I wouldn’t but fuck she’s just been so fucking unbearable lately. She embarrassed me at the party the other night. She’s trying to tell me who I can’t hang out with. She’s just so unbearable.”

“I’ll slap her for you, I just need to find the right opening.” Santana cackled.

“Hey can I ask you something?” You say causing Santana’s eyes to soften.

“Of course tonto.” She huffed shoving you back a bit.

“I-I’ve been having sex dreams.”

“Of who me?! Y/N I can’t say I never thought about it, but-“

“What?! No you weirdo you’re like a sister to me. Ugh gross, as if.” You cringed.

“Ass. You should be so lucky. Who is it then?” She rolled her eyes. “I swear if you say B I’m kicking your ass.”

“It’s… it’s Natasha.” You mutter.

Santana’s brows raised as she began smirking. “So Q is on the money you have the hots for your neighbor.”

“What? No, no, Nat is a friend, I just somehow keep-“

“Having hot sexy dreams of her?” Santana taunted you.

“Will you stop it! Ugh, forget I even said anything.” You growled about to walk away when she stopped you. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it. So you’re having sex dreams about Natasha.” Santana shrugged. “She’s hot, it's natural to have those urges towards her.”

“But it just feels so… wrong. She’s a really good friend, and Quinn already has suspicions. I just don’t know how to-“

“How to stop the dreams?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t; they're just sex dreams Y/N, but if you’re feeling more than just lust for her than that’s when you have a problem. Lusting after her, that's ok it’s natural for you to want to be balls deep inside of a woman like her, but it’s when you start having feelings for her that’s the problem.”

You nod when Natasha walks up.

“Hi Y/N, hey Santana, good seeing you again.” Nat smiles.

“Hey Natasha.” She smirks at you.

“What are you two doing?”

“Wanda told me to hang up more decorations.”

“She’s pretty obsessed with this holiday.” She chuckled.

“Halloween is sort of my thing too ya know. The movies, the pumpkins, and corn mazes.” You smirked.

“So Halloween is your favorite Holiday?” Natasha chuckled.

“Hmhm it’s-“ Suddenly Santana sang along with you. “The best day of the year!”

“Nice!” You gasped and high-fived Santana. 

“You know this one used to throw the best ragers around this time.” Santana smirked.

“Oh really?” Natasha smirks looking at you.

You sheepishly shrug.

“Ohhh yeah I remember once the door broke off its hinges. I still don’t know how you fixed it so fast being that drunk, or the time Finn drove his car in your neighbor's pool.” Sanatana chuckled, shaking her head. “Good times.”

“Sounds like you guys were pretty wild.” Natasha smirked.

“Don’t get her started.” You chuckle. “What are your plans for the night?”

“I’m taking Nate and Lila trick or treating while Lena and Kate hand out candy. Clint and Laura always create a haunted house so they’re preoccupied.”

“Oh you should join us.” You smile gesturing to you and Santana.

“Okay sounds great!”

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As soon as you stepped outside with Fin, Santana was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. “Okay but did you two talk about costumes?” Santana asked, looking between you and Natasha. 

You both looked like you were together as a family. She was clearly Ariel, Lila seemed to be mermaid Barbie, Nate was King Trident, and of course Ollie is Max.

“Nope” You chuckled blushing.

“Natty look!” Finley giggled pointing to hers and Natasha’s costumes.

“Oh you're so cute!” She said taking her in her other arm.

“We’re the same!” Finley giggled. “Under da sea! Under da sea! Papa look!”

“I know.” You chuckled.

“Papa you have to kiss the goirl!” Finley giggled snuggling into Natasha. You blushed and Santana cackled once more.

“Oh my gosh I need photos right now.” Laura squealed as Clint chuckled, covering his mouth to keep from cackling.

Meanwhile inside with Brittany and Quinn

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Quinn growled seeing the whole interaction. “Do you see this shit?” 

“They look good together.”

“Britt what the fuck?”

“Sorry, I thought I said that in my head.” Brittany mumbled looking out the window.

“Ugh!” Quinn stomped her foot.

Back outside

“Well are you ready Princess Ariel?”

“I think you need to ask my father King Trident.” She smirked.

“Ahh yes King Trident of the 7 seas. May you and your family accompany me on this Hallows night?” You bowed offering your hand.

“Oh brother.” Santana huffed as Nate giggled.

“Ignore Bellatrix.” You raised your brow.

“I’m clearly Hermione.”

“If you say so.” You muttered leading Ollie down the sidewalk.

“Beth stay close okay!” You shouted as your daughter and Lila ran off with Morgan and Monica.

Every house you all went to commented on how great you all looked together. The block however clearly had no words knowing you both were married to other people.

Natasha on the other hand was on cloud 9. You were constantly cracking jokes and had a back and forth with Santana that had her face hurting from smiling too much.

“Papa!” 

“Hmm?” 

“Sing Prince Eric's song!”

“Only if I get extra kisses!”

Finley giggled as she kissed your cheeks before saying. “Sing papa sing!”

“What do ya say Ariel?” You raise your brow at Natasha.

She chuckles before clearing her throat before letting out Ariel’s classic singing. “Ahhhhahhhh” Finley playfully joined Natasha in harmonizing. “Ahhhh ahhhhh” 

“All I ever wanted was the open sea and sky. Freedom from the life I always knew. Now all I am is haunted. As days and hours roll by. All I ever think about is you.”

Natasha gulped you were her Prince she always wanted. You were her Prince Eric.

“There you are, over me”

Natasha harmonized again this time Santana joining in as she videoed you singing. Bystanders stopped to do the same

“Taking me with your song! To wild uncharted waters, miles beyond the sea I was darkness-bound, I had almost drowned 'Til you came around, and you found me!”

Santana bit her lip; you and Natasha were looking at one another the same way you used to look at Quinn when you sang to her. She knew you were starting to have feelings for the Russian beauty. She couldn’t even blame you especially with the way Quinn has been lately. Lying to you about being pregnant?! She wants to slap the shit out of her for that she’s gonna keep that in her back pocket.

“Now I am on the shoreline, but I'm still lost at sea! In these wild uncharted waters; Come find me again!”

You were going to end it there, but the crowd around you nodded towards you asking for you to keep going. You looked at Natasha and you began again.

“All I do is wonder who you are and where you'll be. In my mind, your melody goes on. Stronger than the undertow the night you rescued me. Silhouetted by the rising dawn.”

You had chills hearing her harmonizing.

“Ohhhhh, over you I cannot get over you! In wild uncharted waters; Beyond where man can see. When your eyes outshine the horizon line! And you're finally real, here beside me! Now I'm right here on the shoreline I'm right where you left me! And your voice is like A siren that guides me! To wild uncharted waters; alone, just you and me! And I hope you're there in the open air! There's no map or compass to guide me, no! Time may change the shoreline! But time will not change meeeeee! If it takes my life I will finally find you again In uncharted waters Come find me againnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”

The crowd around you cheered and clapped and you jokingly bowed.

You smiled at Natasha and Finley when a little girl pulled your sleeve.

“Oh hello!” You beamed.

“Prince Eric, can I take a picture with you?” The little girl asked bashfully. You looked up at her mother who mouthed ‘please?’.

“Why of course!” You beamed.

“Ariel, will you take one with us?” She asked.

You, Natasha, little King Trident and Finley stood for a line of photos.

“Thank you Prince Eric thank you Princess Ariel.” They would all say.

“Papa, we're popular.” Finley giggled. “Like aunt Rachel.”

“Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!” You gasped.

Santana chuckled as you all began walking back home. “Almost forgot how great your voice is Y/L/N.” 

“You ever miss it?” You ask Santana.

“All the time.” She sighs.

“Me too.” You gave her a side hug. 

When it finally came to an end it took a lot of candy to keep Fin from crying and throwing a fit. She wanted to keep going. 

“Aww dad come on Morgan and Lila are staying too.” Beth groaned when you said no to her staying the night at Monica’s.

“Beth, you just stayed at Morgan’s. Besides, it's a school night.”

“We all go to the same school," Beth huffs.

You ignored that comment determined to stand your ground.

“Please! I’ll pick up after Ollie and feed him and walk him! I’ll even take the trash out!”

“You mean your chores?” You gasped chuckling as she stomped her foot.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be such a dick-tator.” Santana cackled. “Go ahead mi amore.”

“San-“

“It’s Halloween! Be cool!” She huffed and nodded toward your eldest.

“Yayyyy love you Tia!” Beth took off.

“What am I chopped liver?” You huffed.

“Love you!” She shouted before squealing with her friends.

“Papa me and Ollie love you.” She smiled with chocolate on her face.

Natasha chuckled, wiping her face with a wet wipe.

“Thank you Natty, I love you.” Fin smiled at her.

“I love you too, dorogoy.” Natasha smiled.

“Papa, I wan Natty pwease.”

“She’s holding Nate, squirt.”

“You hold Nate I wan, Natty.”

“Ouch.” You chuckled and Natasha handed you a sleepy King Trident.

Nate whined pulling at his fake beard. You gently took it off laying it against your shoulder. The small boy yawned snuggling into your shoulder. You smiled hearing his soft snores as Fin babbled on to Natasha.

Santana walked next to you giving you a look. 

“What’s that look for?” You chuckled and Santana pulled you back a little.

“Y/N, if you’re not happy with Q anymore you can leave her.” She said softly. 

“I uh-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just saying no one would be upset with you. You have to think about your own happiness sometimes. You can’t raise kids if you aren’t happy.” 

You were completely taken back.

“Just think it over.” Santana nudged you and Natasha turned around.

“Papa come on trick or treat!”

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When you finally made it to your lane Fin threw a fit when it was time to take her home. 

“No Papa! Natty!” She cried.

Santana bit her lip as she took her son and Ollie inside your house.

“You’re just sleepy little Ariel.” You whispered, taking her in your arms.

“But don wanna seep.” She cried sleepily.

“When you wake up it’ll be ballet time.” Natasha smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Ballet.” Fin whispered as she began falling asleep on your other shoulder.

“I better take King Trident home.” She smiled, taking him from you. 

“I can't wait to have another one.” You chuckled, handing him to Natasha.

“You want a boy?” She smiled at you as you walked her across the street towards the Barton haunted house.

“Yeah don’t get me wrong I love my girls, but I’ve always wanted a son too.��� 

“Well it’ll happen one day. You’re such a great daddy I just know it’ll happen.” Natasha smiled, speaking softly as to not wake the kids.

You briefly wondered if maybe Quinn would have a boy and a small part of you didn’t want another with her. Not after everything, not after the talk with Santana.

You both are greeted by the Barton’s who are closing shop.

“Hey there’s my little King Trident.” Laura smiled taking him from Natasha.

“Thanks again Nat- or should I say Princess Ariel and Prince Eric?” Clint smirked.

You chuckled, shaking his hand before leading Natasha back across the street.

“You looked amazing as Ariel by the way.” You smile.

“Same to you Prince Eric.” She smiled.

“Goodnight Nat.” You say as you both stand in front of her home.

She opted on not kissing your cheek seeing a certain blonde fuming by the window.

“Goodnight Prince Eric.” She smiled softly before making her way in the house.

You make your way inside right when Santana and Brittany are leaving.

“Bye Prince Eric.” Brittany winked.

“Think over what we discussed.” Santana muttered as she hugged you goodnight.

You looked over at Quinn who stood fuming looking at you with a glare. You rolled your eyes and ascended up the stairs. You could give a shit about what she has to say at this point.

You slept in the guest room again that night.

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You were deep in thought going over Santana's words once again. You were inwardly going over what would happen if you were to leave Quinn.

“Y/N the timer went off like 2 minutes ago.” Quinn huffed from her spot next to Beth. She was helping her with her math homework.

You snapped out of your daze turning down the stove top.

“What is up with you today? You’ve been in your head all day.” She asked.

You ignore her fixing up dinner.

“Y/N?”

“Damn it, Quinn, just not now okay! Can you let me finish dinner? Or am I not allowed to do that either???” You huffed with a roll of your eyes.

Quinn glared at you but before she could say anything back Beth broke the silence.

“Dad.” Beth muttered looking out the window.

“Hm?” You asked as you grabbed plates.

“The neighbors are gathering outside with guns  up.” Beth said looking over at you her brows crinkled together. 

You saw Steve grab his rifle.

“Whoa what in the- Stay here.” You say sternly before rushing outside.

“What’s going on?” You asked Steve who now had his gear on with Carol and Bucky. 

“A couple prison escapees were sighted a block away from here.” Steve speaks as he clips his vest. “Carol is heading south, I'm heading north and Buck will go East.”

“Clint said he’d go west.” Bucky spoke up.

“Y/N, do you have a gun?” Carol asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, picturing where you put it.

“Go grab it you never know.” Carol said, adding her magazine.

‘Natasha’ you thought as you ran inside setting the new system Tony and Scott installed.

“The house is now secure.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke out as your house completely locked down.

“What’s going on dad?” Beth asked; seeing you run inside holding your phone to your ear.

“Y/N?” Quinn furrowed her brows looking up from Beth’s homework. She huffed standing up to follow you upstairs.

“Come on pick up.” You growled before taking a peek at Natasha's window. You hung up, you were just going to run to her place.

Quinn made it to the room just in time to see you lift the wooden board in your closet taking out your gun.

“Quinn, go get the girls, and Ollie then lock yourself in the room!” You say loading your gun.

“What the hell is going on? Why do you have that?!”

“There’s been a prison break and they were spotted near our block. I'm gonna go check on Nat.”

“What?! why?!”

“Because I called her 3 times and she’s not picking up.”

“What about us?” She huffed looking at you like you grew a second head.

“Q, you’re in a state of the art home security system that Tony and Scott set up. You and the girls are safe. I’ll be back, I know the code.” You ran out with Quinn and your daughter shouting your name.

“Natasha?” You say again, cupping your hands to see inside the dark house. Nat usually had her blinds open. Seeing a vase fall you call out again. “Natasha?!”

“Y/N!” She managed to yell, throwing her hand up from the floor behind the sofa.

That was all you needed, you backed up before kicking the door in.

Seeing a man holding her down with a knife and the other tying her up.

“Let her go. Now.” You growled, gripping your gun. 

“You’re not gonna shoot me.” One of them laughed. 

“You don’t know me, I don’t know you, but I know her. Really wanna try me now?” You arched your brow looking deep into his eyes.

He gulped, dropping the blade slowly lifting his hands up. “The fuck are you doing? Theres two of us and one of them! Get them!” The other inmate snapped before trying to drag Natasha down the hallway.

“Let me go!” She screamed, kicking and grabbing the wall.

“Let her go or I swear I’ll fucking shoot you!” You shouted.

“What are you doing, get off your ass and get them!” He gruffed trying to pull Nat. “Stop moving you little bitch or I’ll make it hurt!” 

Natasha swept his legs punching him in the throat but he grabbed his knife.

You stopped thinking and shot him in the back.

“Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhh fuck!” He cried out landing with a thud. “I can’t feel anything! You crazy mother fucker you shot me!”

“Nat come here!” She rushed behind you.

The other guy panicked not knowing what to do.

“Get down on the fucking ground!” You shouted.

“Please don’t shoot me, I'm sorry!” He cried getting on the ground with his hands behind his head.

“I should fucking kill you for what you did to her!” You shouted.

“Y/N no!” She pleaded.

“No wait please, I'm sorry!” He cried.

“You’re sorry! You were gonna hurt her and attack me, but you’re sorry? I should just fucking kill you now.”

“Y/N?” Natasha said softly now behind you softly touching your arm.

“They would have hurt you.”

“Y/N, please.” Natasha pleaded. 

“Y/N?” Steve called out.

“What?” You huffed, still pointing the barrel at his head.

“I got it from here.” He said softly. “It’s okay bud you did good.”

You nodded as he cuffed him. You placed the safety on the gun tucking it behind your back.

Natasha tackled you with a hug. 

“Did he? Did they?” Your eyes are wild and brimming with unshed tears at the thought of anyone hurting her. You push her hair back looking her over pushing her hair back she was bleeding.

“No, no.” She shook her head feeling your hands gripping her waist as she places a hand on your chest and the other against you cheek. “I swear detka, just a few scratches, they hit me on the back of the head.”

Searching her eyes for the truth. She kissed your cheek bringing you back in a hug and you kissed her temple. Holding her close against you as you sighed in relief. 

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“You’re lucky your spouse came home when they did.” One of the officers sighed after taking her statement.

“Oh I’m not-“ you cleared your throat. “I’m just the neighbor.”

Natasha’s still silent; you wondered if she heard that or if she’s just in shock.

‘I’m in love with Y/N.’ She thought to herself. ‘Y/N saved me. They’re always there for me. I’ve completely fallen in love with someone in a marriage.’

“Oh excuse me I just saw you holding her and then the rings and well I assumed.” He chuckled.

Soon a car came to a screeching halt behind the police barricade. It was him, it was Bruce. You noticed a brunette getting out of the passenger side.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to get behind the barricade.” The officer who thought you were Natasha’s wife gruffed.

“I’m her husband. I live here!” He shouted.

“Not again Arnold.” You hear him mutter. “Let him through.” He sighed.

“I came as soon as I heard!” He shouted running toward her. The moment he brought her in his arms she snapped out of her state. Shoving him away harshly.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, getting everyone’s attention. She quickly backed away, colliding into you. You wrapped your arms around her feeling her tense.

“Hey, hey easy it’s just me.” You said softly as she turned in your arms. 

“Natasha, it's me, Bruce, your husband.” He spoke softly and tried reaching out again but she buried her face in your neck.

“Y/N!” She cried; everything was hitting her at once. She was trembling in your arms. 

“It’s okay, I know. It’s okay.” You whispered, holding her tightly as she began breaking down. She breathed in harshly before crying again.

An EMT came by speaking softly as she could. “You’re in shock. You’re having a panic attack. Come with me I can help settle you down a bit.” 

The EMT knew the redhead wasn’t listening so she spoke with you. “Can you help bring her to the truck?”

You nodded wordlessly. Slowly scooping her up in your arms. Walking her to the ambulance. “You gotta let go.” You whispered trying to set her down.

She shook her head still shaking. 

Another car came to a screeching halt. Out came a familiar blonde.

“Сестра!” She shouted. “Сестра, Где ты?!”

You raised your hand seeing Natasha’s head pop up at the voice.

She easily evaded the police barricade stopping in front of you both.

“It’s okay, she's fine. They’re sister’s.” Arnie sighed, already knowing the two were sisters.

You felt Natasha let you go and hug her sister.

You looked up seeing your wife standing next to Christine, arms crossed. A look on her face you can’t place.

Knowing Nat was okay you walked away only to have Yelena take your hand. 

“Thank you for being there for her.” Yelena sniffled.

You just gave a small smile and squeezed her hand before walking back towards your wife.

You kissed her still lips before taking her in your arms holding her tight. You waited for her to hold you back, but it never came.

“Qui-“

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Bruce said, taking your hand; interrupting you and Quinn.

“Well maybe if you had been there you could have done it.” You snapped.

“Y/N.” Quinn gasped.

“No!” You whipped your head at your wife before looking at the nerd in front of you. “She could have seriously gotten hurt and where were you? Let me guess holed up with your side piece right?” You laughed gesturing to the brunette behind him. “Couldn't you leave her to take care of your wife?”

“Y/N stop it!” Quinn grit.

Now the entire block was standing behind you.

“Well I was working. I’m actually working on-“

“A breakthrough?” You questioned tilting your head stepping towards him only for him to take a step back colliding into his car. “You’ve been saying that for how long now?”

“Too fucking long!” Carol shouted.

“Tony back me up here.” Bruce chuckled awkwardly.

“No. You need to tell her the truth now.” Tony glares. “You said you were gonna tell her it’s been 2 months.” 

Bruce sighed. 

“Tell me what?” Natasha questions from the ambulance.

“Nothing!” Bruce shouts quickly with a nervous smile.

“Bullshit it’s nothing.” You grabbed him by his blazer shoving him back into the car. “Tell her the truth now!” You yelled. Quinn tried to pry your arm off of him but you shoved her back. “Say it!”

“I’ve been cheating on her with Betty!” He gasped covering his mouth looking over at Betty who merely shrugged.

“Say it to her you idiot.” You gruffed, shoving him towards the redhead.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Quinn snapped, grabbing your arm.

“Him!” You yelled pointing at Bruce who was trying to run away from Yelena.

“That has nothing to do with you.” Quinn huffed.

“Natasha is my friend-“

“Y/N you shoved me.” She quirks her brow. 

You sighed, rubbing your head. “I’m sorry I shoved you, but you weren’t there! You didn’t see those animals on her! They would have hurt her!”

“You’re right I didn’t because I was busy taking care of myself and the girls.” She snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snapped.

“You left us! You left your family for our neighbor! How do you not see what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re making it sound like I chose her over you. That’s not what happened. What happened was I acted fast, got you and the girls in lockdown. I told you when I didn't hear from Nat, I knew something was wrong, I can’t just ignore that. I will not!”

There was so much going on Natasha didn’t know what to focus on. She had almost been SA’ed. Her fake husband just admitted to his infidelity. The neighbors were now whispering and worse. You and Quinn were arguing about her. Right in front of everyone.

“Y/N, I am your wife. Me. I am the one who gave birth at 16 because you knocked me up! I’m the one who took the stretch marks and the constant feeding. I’m the one who works.”

“Wow…” you muttered looking away from her, noticing Val and Thor trying to get the rest of the block to leave. “I’m gonna go give my statement then we’ll talk about this in the morning. I can’t even look at you. You’re so fucking selfish.”

With that you walked away leaving a bristled Quinn behind. Quinn looked at Christine who gave her a brief side hug before walking back to her house.

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After your statement; the police and first responders made their leave. You’re not too sure what happened with Bruce but the scientist was nowhere in sight.

Yelena walked up leaving her sister on the porch. “She doesn’t want to stay in her house. Do you mind if we stay with you tonight until we can get the place secured and cleaned up?”

“Of course not. Come on.” You say walking towards the redhead. “Hey gingerbread-“ you feel her fall in your arms. Without another word you scoop her up and walk over to your home. Yelena opens the door and you begin going up the steps towards your guest room. You gently push the door open as Yelena turns the light on. You gently set her on the bed.

“Should I get you two some pajamas?”

“Thank you, Y/N, I brought some clothes so I think we’re good.”

“Don’t go.” Natasha whispered, taking your hand.

“I have to go change and talk to Quinn.” You respond.

“Please stay.” She shook her head holding onto your hand laying back down with Yelena right behind her holding her tight.

“Okay.” You whispered, shoving your pants off revealing your boxers and leaving your shirt on.

You laid down and she curled into you with Yelena curled into her. 

“Y/N I have to tell you something.” She said softly, hearing Yelena already snoring away.

“What’s wrong?”

“...I lied to you… about Bruce.”

“What about him?”

“We’re married but… not really. He married me to make his ex jealous, and I married him for a green card.”

“Oh.” You say with a nod.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn't tell you. I should have told you a while back. I don't know why I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t tell anyone. I guess I just-“

“Hey… it’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Of course to be honest I feel like an idiot now the way I yelled at him in front of everyone-“

“No one knows but you, the Barton’s, and the Maximoffs. I’m sorry, Y/N, I should have told you.”

“Water under the bridge-“

“Might want to hold on to those words because I have something else to tell you a couple things actually.” She muttered. “You might hate me after this.”

“Hey I promise that will not happen. Now what’s wrong?” You ask softly.

“I don’t know how to say this but after tonight I have to. You deserve to know these things. Just promise me you hate. Promise me you won’t stop talking to me.”

“I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Back on football day Tony told me to tell you something important.”

“Why doesn’t he just tell me?” You furrowed your brow.

“Because he’s too chicken shit.” She huffed sitting up next to you.

“Okay.”

“Y/N, he told me you were accepted into MIT. In fact he said you had a full ride, but that someone turned down your scholarship. He doesn’t know who, but it’s true.”

“Wait… what?” You rubbed your eyes and head unable to process the information. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” She whispered. “I know you really wanted to follow in your fathers footsteps.”

“I was accepted?” you sighed really wanting to cry. Your whole life you just thought you weren’t good enough. You remember seeing the disappointment in your fathers eyes when you told him you were denied. You remember feeling broken hearted. Now you’re racking your brain trying to remember anything that could pinpoint who it was.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum still in thought.

“There’s one more thing… Do you remember your birthday night?”

You gulp turning to look at her. Your heart was thumping out of your chest. You settle for a nod afraid of speaking at all at this point.

“When you went back outside Rachel stopped me.”

You furrow your brows and nod asking her to continue.

“Y/N she does like Quinn she outright told me. She wanted me to… Well she wanted me to help her break the two of you apart.”

“That little evil hobbit.” You growled. “I knew it, I knew Rachel is a snake.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” She whispers.

“Don’t be; I’m the idiot.”

“No you’re not. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing Y/N. Some people are just not good.”

You try to get out of bed.

“Wait where are you going?” she asks, holding your arm.

“I need to take a walk. There's so much going on I can’t-”

“Y/N I am begging you right now please don’t go. Please. I- I need you here with me. I don’t feel safe with out you.”

You nod taking her in your arms when you see tears forming in her eyes. “Shhhh, shh, it's okay go to sleep I’ll be right here with you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” You say softly laying down with her shaking in your arms. You squeeze her tighter, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be right here.”

Natasha nods and sighs in relief. Relief that the secrets she was holding are finally out. Though her body is still stuck in fight or flight mode you seem to be calming her right down and you have to admit after those truth bombs she was keeping you level headed. Though you didn’t sleep that night it was nice to hear her breathing.

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You got up early; quietly putting your pants back on before stepping out the door. You walked into your shared bedroom grabbing a fresh set of clothes.

“Where have you been?” Quinn asked, sitting up.

“Downstairs.” You lied putting your clothes on.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I was out of line last night. I shouldn’t have been upset with you saving her. She would have been hurt or worse and I was being selfish.” 

You felt taken back hearing her apologize. You didn’t say a word instead opting for a nod.

“I’m going to go and grab us breakfast from that place you love.” The blonde stood pecking your cheek before heading into the bathroom. 

Soon she was out quickly putting on her yoga pants and shirt. “I’ll be back soon.” She smiled before stepping out. You watched her pull out of the driveway when you heard the guest door open.

“Hey.” 

You turned to see Natasha.

“Morning.” You give her a small smile.

“Thank you for everything.” She said softly walking over to hug you.

“Of course.”

“I’m going to Lena’s place for a few days. Tony said his crew is working on my house so that makes me feel better.”

You nodded not wanting to push her to talk about it. 

“Thanks again Y/N, and thank you for saving my sister.” Yelena spoke while walking up next to her sister.

“Of course.” You say again as she brought you in a big hug squeezing you tight before letting go.

“We’re totally going to get some breakfast. Want to join us? We’ll probably just take it to my place.” Yelena smiled.

“Thanks Yelena but Quinn left for breakfast so I’m good maybe next time.”

She nodded before looking over at Natasha. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Thank you, again Y/N.”

“No need to thank me.” You finally say as she hugs you she inhales deeply as you nuzzle her head breathing her in.

She smiles up at you and follows her younger sister out the door.

You yawned finally feeling sleepy as you watched her leave.

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(This part was originally called Talking in Your Sleep by Rogue Wave I highly suggest to play it while reading this next part)

The next few days you were sleepless and all around depressed. You hadn’t been this helpless since Finn passed away. Quinn was being overly nice and waiting on your hand and foot. You couldn’t help but miss your neighbor. You had sex dreams of her every night. You texted her a few times to check in and see how she was doing. You learned she made it back home last night. You even asked her if she wanted you to go over and stay with her, but she insisted she needed to be alone. She needed to overcome her fear. 

Quinn had gotten home late in the morning hours the end of her quarter went off without a hitch and now she has more time to be with you. She jumps in the shower eager to lay with you before you wake up. 

When she finished showering she noticed the tent you were pitching. “Like clockwork.” Quinn smirked a quiet giggle escaping her breath as she uncovered you. She hummed seeing you in nothing but your boxers. You two haven’t had sex since Thor's party and she figured since she’s been a nice and doting wife she can wake you up in the best way possible.

“Nat?” You call out stopping her from opening her door. She turned around and you went up the steps. 

“What’s wrong?” She smiled.

You bring your hands up to caress her cheeks looking into her eyes doing everything you can to convey how worthy she is. “You are the most beautiful, sexiest, most amazing, sweet, kind woman I have ever met. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” With that you brought her in a kiss, one that she eagerly responded back with just as much vigor.

The redhead moaned, feeling your hand on her waist and the other threaded through her tresses.  

Soon you were both stumbling into her house stripping one another as you made your way to the sofa. She sat you down straddling you.

Quinn after warming herself up on your dick she slowly let you enter her. “Fuck Y/N.” She smiled closing her eyes feeling you fill her up.

You felt Natasha lift your member, closing her eyes as she sat down on your cock. “Y/N.” She sighed adjusting to your girth.

“Natasha.” You breathed out seeing her look down at you her nose nuzzling yours before she-

Suddenly you were woken up by water to the face. You gasped sitting up falling out of bed. Looking up to see a raging Quinn holding a large cup of water.

“Quinn what the hell?!” You shouted angrily seeing her place the cup down before quickly changing into jeans and a shirt.

“You’re cheating on me?!”

“What?!” You sputtered. “Where is this coming from?! You just woke me up in a shitty way Quinn!” You shouted thoroughly pissed off.

“Tell me why I’m trying to wake you up in the best way possible and you utter the neighbors fucking name.” She growled shoving her shoes as she started descending down stairs.

“Quinn!” You shouted hearing the front door whip open. 

“Quinn stop!” You yelled running after her drenched in water in nothing but your boxers.

Steve who was mowing his lawn tilted his head seeing your wife pounding on Natasha’s door.

Bless her heart Natasha opened it still seemingly sleepy.

“Quinn? What’s going on?” She rasps.

“You lying little home wrecker!” Quinn towered over her, pointing her finger in her chest.

“Excuse me?” Natasha sputters in disbelief pulling her kimono closer pushing Quinn’s finger away.

“Oh cut the shit Romanoff, I know you want my wife. It doesn’t take a fool to see how desperate you are for her. So how long has it been going on?”

“Quinn!” You shouted running up the stairs. “Quinn stop it! You’re acting like a fucking psychopath!” You growled. 

“No, tell me!” She yelled at both of you.

“I’m so confused. Tell you what? And why are you calling me a homewrecker?”

“Tell me why my partner called out your name while I was fucking them?!”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Oh my God this isn’t happening.” You muttered holding your head.

“Wha… What did you say?” Natasha shakes her head furrowing her brows. Were you thinking of her the way she’s been thinking about you? Did you secretly want her as much as she wants you?

“Okay since you’re too dumb to understand I’ll say it again-“

“Don’t call me dumb Quinn.” Natasha kinked her brow standing her ground.

“Then why are you acting like it?!” 

“I’ve only just woken up to you pounding on my door calling me a homewrecker. I have no idea what you are asking me when you take this tone with me Fabray.”

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N to you Romanoff.” Quinn said, taking another step up towering over the redhead. “How long have you been fucking Y/N?”

“Y/N and I are friends Quinn. They would never do anything to hurt you like that. You should know that already.”

“Fuck you; telling me to trust Y/N. How can I trust them when they’re calling out your name in our bed?”

It was silent as she looked at you with an unknown expression. 

“Quinn, I was asleep it wasn’t like that-“

“Don’t do that.” She snapped pointing at you. “You think I’m dumb? I’m riding you and you call out another woman’s name? What the fuck else are you two hiding? Are you even in a marriage with Natasha?”

“No, actually we’re getting a divorce.”

“You two have a thing together and I’m fucking sick of it. You’re done. You’re done being around my partner, and my kids. Leave my family alone.” 

Your eyes darkened and you stepped between the two women. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Is everything okay here?” Steve walked up handing you a robe. 

“Thanks Steve.” You mutter placing it on.

“No, it’s not actually. You cheated on your wife and that energy got on Y/N.”

“I came out Quinn. I think the cheater here is you.” He crossed his arms.

“Wait what?” You furrowed your brow.

“Excuse me?” Quinn raised her brow.

“I was the one that saw you that night at Y/N’s party. I’ve been waiting patiently for you to confess, but I guess I’m gonna have to do it for you because Y/N deserves to know.”

“Steve, what are you talking about?” You furrowed your brows.

“Nothing! He’s obviously crazy.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry to tell you this it should have come from your wife. The night of your birthday I caught Quinn making out with Rachel. Pretty heavily.”

“You cheated on me with Berry?” You asked, furrowing your brows in shock. 

“No!” She huffed. “I would never-“

“Quinn.” Steve glared.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Y/N she’s into you this is why they’re lying!”

Natasha ignored the blonde and continued. “Y/N, Steve, is not a liar. If anything this lines up with what I told you Rachel said to me that night.”

“Oh please, you're lying. Y/N they are lying to you!” Quinn laughed.

“You’re the liar Quinn.” You said eyes brimming with tears. “You lied about being pregnant.” Quinn’s eyes were wide with shock. “Yeah I know you tied your tubes. You lied about Berry, and you fucking stole my chance to go to MIT. I know it was you! I knew you were bitch going into this relationship. I just never thought you would go this low not, with me.”

“Y/N, baby, I swear I didn’t-“ Quinn had tears forming in her eyes. “Okay, I lied about the baby, and I did- I did kiss Rachel, but I didn’t steal your dream away I swear it wasn’t me.” She sobbed, she tried to take your hand and you snatched it away. “I wouldn’t do that to you Y/N!”

“Fuck you!” You shouted. “Quinn, you're a liar and a cheat! I'm done with you! I want you out of the house. I can’t even look at you right now. We’re getting a divorce.”

“No please Y/N! Please don’t do this. I'm begging you to come back with me. We'll talk about it. I promise you we’ll figure this out together! Please!” She sobbed as you shook your head.

Natasha opened her door further letting you and Steve in the house.

“Natasha please that is my wife, my husband, my partner I’m begging you-“

“You’ve done enough.” Natasha snapped slamming the door in Quinn’s face.

“Oh my God.” Quinn inhaled trying not to have a panic attack. She turned to see some of the neighbors outside staring at her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Wanda called out as Quinn walked home. 

Meanwhile inside the Romanoff residence you were having a panic attack.

“It’s okay bud inhale 1, 2, 3, 4 hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 exhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 repeat.” Steve was used to calming down panic attacks because of Bucky. After losing his arm he suffered from severe PTSD for a long time. “There you go now tell me what’s one thing you can see, smell, hear, and touch?”

“Um the photo of Nat and Yelena when they were kids, I can smell Nat’s home musk, I can hear her grabbing me a cup of water, and I can feel the fluffy carpet beneath my feet.”

“There we go.” Steve smiled, feeling your pulse instantly dropping.

“Did you really see them?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I should have told you sooner I was hoping she would confess.”

Natasha laid a cool hand towel on your forehead handing you a glass of water. “I’m sorry detka.” Natasha whispered, laying her hand on the center of your back. She didn’t know this yet but that hand placement always made you feel better. You leaned into her and began crying feeling her wrap her arms around you, rocking you. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way Y/N.” Steve felt his heart break for you.

You cried a little harder and Natasha turned her head towards him. “I got this Steve if you wanna…”

He nodded, taking the hint. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He stood feeling terrible as he made his way out the door.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You woke up a few hours later practically on top of Natasha.

“Hi.” She whispered, pushing your hair back. “How are you feeling?”

You groaned sitting up.

“So my shot at MIT was stolen, she lied to me about being pregnant, a long time frenemy has been trying to break us up, and kissed my wife. Am I missing anything else?” You rubbed your face letting it all really sink in. 

You groaned remembering Quinn embarrassed you about calling out Natasha’s name in bed.

“Y/N.” Natasha sighed you haven’t looked at her.

“Yeah?” You cleared your throat.

“So you had a sex dream about me!” She exclaimed, causing you to groan in embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal I’ve dreamt about you.”

“What?” This caught your attention. Your head almost got whiplash with how fast you turned.

“Oh my God, you’re terrible. Yes Y/N I have had sex dreams about you.”

“Dreams; plural;  as in more than one?”

Natasha, realizing her mistake, rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Yes.”

“Oh.” You say suddenly very aware of your proximity.

“So now will you look me in the eye?”

You slowly met her gaze she dreamt about you fucking her… more than once! Maybe Quinn was right, maybe she is into you and maybe you’re into her too. You’re on unfamiliar ground. You’ve only ever been with Quinn. 

“I’m sorry for being so weird about it. I just- I’ve never dreamt about a friend before.”

“Come on, you need to eat something. I know you love omelets. Want me to make you your favorite?”

You nod in surprise.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Okay we’re here- why the hell does your face look like a puffy marshmallow?” Santana grimaced. 

“Quinn what’s wrong?” Brittany furrowed her brows

“I- I fucked up.” Quinn began crying.

“What the hell did you do, Fabray?” 

“I cheated on Y/N.” She sobbed.

Santana sighed, she hates to say she saw this coming, call it her Latin 3rd eye, but she knew something has been off ever since your birthday.

“Quinn!” Brittany gasped.

“What the actual fuck Fabray?!” Santana huffed standing back up so she wouldn't slap the life out of Quinn. “Who, when, where, and how many times?” 

“It was one time and we didn’t even have sex we- we made out.”

“It was with Berry wasn’t it?” Brittany muttered.

Quinn nodded.

“Wow. You’re a dumb bitch for that Fabray. Y/N gave you everything and this is how you repay them?”

“What do I do?” Quinn sobbed.

“Well you’re gonna give Y/N space and if they decide to leave and divorce you then I highly suggest you do it if you have any respect for Y/N.

“I can’t just let Y/N go. I can’t, I love Y/N.” Quinn sniffles.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” Santana scoffs. You kissed faked a pregnancy, treat them like crap, kissed a troll, and stole Y/N’s chance at MIT.”

“It wasn’t me.” She cried.

“Then who was it?” Santana asked. “Bitch, you’re already fucked might as well be honest now.”

Quinn gulped for uttering the words. “My mother.” 

A/N: like, comment & reblog please I spent a long time on this chapter 🫠

[squippy360]

Steve Rogers x male reader

Steve’s usually kept his guard up, never had let it down, but what happens when he’s dating a guy who’s the more domestically dominant type, where he love taking care of steve, loves taking care of him, and wants steve to be vulnerable around him

Sub!Steve Rogers x Dom!Male reader

Cw:(fluff to smut, Comforting steve rogers, fingering, thigh fucking, smut)

I was simply sitting on the couch, scrolling on social media. I was listening to music and humming slightly to myself. I turned my head to the side when I heard the elevator door open. I winced when I saw my very tired, frustrated, and disoriented boyfriend Steve. I got up and made my way over to him when he dropped his shield and held his head in his hands. He had cuts and bruises all over. I touched his arm and jumped when he slammed it away, looking at me with frantic eyes. I looked around to make sure no one else was around. "Alright, come on big guy. Let's take this to my room." I said gently and somehow picked him up. He hid his face in my neck and clung onto me. His whole body was rigid and stiff. 

I kicked my door open softly and went to the bathroom. I set him down and went to get some supplies. I came back and he seemed to have calmed down a bit. "Stevie? Are you there Love?" I whispered and kneeled in front of him. He nodded and looked to the side in embarrassment. "Sorry about that earlier. I'll be heading back to my room…" He said and went to stand up. "Oh no you don't. I don't trust you alone so I'll be taking care of you." I said stood up, crossing my arms. "Now that I know you can stand, take your clothes off." I said. He looked at me with a blush. "I-I'm sorry?" He stuttered. "Take. Your. Clothes. Off." I growled. 

He looked down with a blush and pulled his suit off. He left his boxers on though. I made him sit back down and kneeled down in front of him. I opened the First Aid Kit and gently took one of his legs. He winced as I cleaned around one of the big wounds he had on his thigh and dabbed some petroleum jelly on the cut. I took some gauze and wrapped it around his thigh. I shifted my focus on his other leg where he had some glass stuck in his skin. I took some tweezers and began to gently pull them out and put them on a tissue. 

Steve's p.o.v

I didn't know what to feel. Aside from Bucky, he is the first person who has ever cared about my well-being this much. M/n is so much like Bucky. He so caring, gentle, smart, quiet, attractive, hot, god he is so hot- 

"Stevie? Would you like to eat something?" M/n asked. I snapped out of my daze with a shy blush and nodded. He put the supplies away and that's when I noticed he had completely washed all the blood away. All my wounds were bandaged and taken care of. "W-Wow." I whispered. I blushed when he picked me up and carried me back to his room.  He put me on the bed and went through his dresser drawers. "You can borrow these until you go back to your room in a couple of days." He said and helped me put a shirt on and some sweatpants. "Days?! This is humiliating…" I said and hid my red face in his sheets. "C'mon it's not that bad. I know how sore you get after missions like that." He said and laid me down properly. "Don't move, I'll be right back." He said and left. 

I sighed and just sat up to lean against the headboard. I got out my phone and checked my messages real quick. 

Sammy: Yo Steve! I heard you got caught again! Haha

Stevie: M/n literally dragged me and held me down 😞

Canman: Shouldn't have made all those flashy moves, Rogers🤷

Stevie: I was just doing my job :(

Sammy: good luck with that 😂

Frosty paws: Says the one in my lap rn-

Big_angy: must be nice 😒

Zeus: I am coming my love💞

Big_angy: 💙

I huffed and grabbed one of the pillows and held it as I curled up. "Steve? I got something to make you feel better!" M/n said and carried in a tray. I looked over and saw some steak with rice and a slice of Apple pie that was heated and a scoop of Ice cream on top. "Aww. Thank you so much, Darling!"  I said and took the tray. I tensed when he wiggled in behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "W-What are you going?" I asked. "What? I can't cuddle my favorite person?" He said smoothly in my ear. "N-No…I mean yes!" I sputtered. "Adorable~" He chuckled and nuzzled on my neck, pulling out his phone and watching a cat and dog compilation. I rolled my eyes playfully and continued eating my desert. 

After a bit, I looked down to see what M/n was taking pictures of us. I blushed and pushed his phone away quickly. "What was that for?" I stuttered in a flustered manner. He laughed and closed his camera app. "Sorry. You just look so adorable when you're enjoying something." M/n said and smirked. I elbowed him lightly and went to get up. "Oh no you don't." He said and pulled me back in his lap. "Lemme get up! I gotta wash this!"  this!" I whined. "I'll do it then." He said with a proud smirk and walked away. 

Steve sat in silence as he heard distant water running. I took this time to curl up in his bed, wrapping the warm blankets around me to go to sleep. After a while M/n finished and went back upstairs. "Stevie! Do you wanna- oh…he's asleep…" M/n said. My heart skipped a beat when I felt the bed move from behind me and his arm wrapped around me. "Goodnight, Steve." He whispered and kissed me on the nape of my neck. 

(Your p.o.v)

He looked so at ease now. The way his body was so relaxed now made me feel like I did my job well. He's just so obedient when it comes to me even if he doesn't notice that I notice. I love taking care of him. Steve is just such a wonderful boyfriend-

"Kiss me on the mouth!" He said suddenly. I jumped and blushed when he flipped around to face me. "Steve…of course." I said and caressed his face with my hand. I leaned in and kissed him softly. I could feel his face heating up against mine. We pulled away and I smirked at him with hazy eyes. He was squirming and avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure a kiss is all you want? We can take it further, if you'd like? I'm always willing to go further with you." M/n whispered to me. "Please~" He said with big desperate puppy eyes. "Of course, Love. Let me do all the work." I whispered and shimmed down further in the blankets. He gasped when I pulled off his shorts. 

"M/n…" Steve breathed out. "I'll be gentle with you. I don't wanna make you any more sore than you already are…or maybe I do~" I smirked and pulled his cock out. I purred and sucked on the tip. He arched his back against the bedsheets and moaned softly. "G-Gosh M/n…ngh~" Steve moaned when I wiggled my finger into his tight hole. He rolled onto his back and spread his legs wider. "I-If you keep doing that I-I'll cum…!" Steve begged as his legs twitched. 

I held his thigh with one hand and went down further on his cock, I moaned lightly and slowly put a second finger in his now wet hole. I grunted a bit when he came down my throat. "Yesss!!!" He let out a drawn out moan and fisted the blanket. He looked down and lifted the blanket up to look at me through his big chest. I opened my mouth at him and chuckled when his face turned even more red. I crawled up back to the surface and kissed him. He kissed back and hugged me. "You're so cute…" I whispered to him and pecked his lips. 

I shimmied off my pants and took out the lube. I applied a generous amount on both of us to make sure I didn't hurt him. "Be a good boy and stay still." I growled and slowly eased my cock in his tight hole. He gasped and rolled his hips against me. I lightly slapped his thigh. "Sit still." I purred. He nodded and hid his face in a pillow. I slowly fucked into him. "Ooooh~ That feels so good~ Nghhhhhhh~" Steve whined. I touched his chest, squeezing and pinching his chesticles. "M/n! Please!" He begged quietly and let out another drawn out moan. "Fuuuck you feel so good~" I growled and went faster. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he arched his back. "Yes Yes Yes Right There!!!" He screamed. "You're going- ngh…to blow a fuse Babe." I groaned. He let out a moan of frustration and I went faster. I saw how desperate his cock was so I decided to ease his frustrations. 

I jerked him off at my thrusting speed. He moaned loudly and hugged my hips with his legs. "Fuck baby!" I groaned and went faster. I cried out and came on his tummy. "M/N!!!" He cried out. I ceased all movement, panting and going to pull out. "W-Wait! Aren't you going to cum as well?" He asked suddenly. I smiled and caressed his sides. "I can deal with it later. I don't want to hurt you-" I started but he cut me off. "Then use my thighs. I wanna make you cum too!!" He said. My cock twitched at that idea. "Fuck…hell yeah…" He said and flipped on his side. I got behind him and immediantly fucked his thighs. They were thick and just as tight as his hole. I groaned loudly and hugged his body close to me. "C-Cumming…!" I cried out and came all over his thighs and my bed sheets. 

"God you're so perfect…" I whispered and kissed him. He whimpered and turned back around to kiss me. "Only for you~" He teased with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and got out a rag and wiped our mess. "Wanna take a shower?" I asked. "Too tired…sleep…" He mumbled and buried himself back in the sheets. I giggled. Abit and kissed his neck. "My good boy~" I purred and coddled him. Little did we both know what the others were saying in a certain chat room. 

Next up: Stephen Strange x Femboy!Male reader

[ornii]

La mia musa (My Muse)

Nancy Wheeler X Male Reader

Summary: You had a painting project and Needed a muse for it, Gladly, Nancy took your fumbling offer in exchange for help in her history class

"So why do I have to sit like this all day?"

Nancy Wheeler, the Wheeler Families daughter and occasional friend of few. She sits so elegantly in a chair inside a classroom of Hawkins High, an art room adorned with Odd drawings, used cavas and the smell of paint. She had one leg crossed and was looking forward, her eyes slightly dart to the left to a cavas being painted on. The quiet but abrasive sounds of paint being produced upon the canvas can be heard gently under music being played via a radio.

"Nancy, I've told you before that this stuff takes time." A man peers past the canvas to her, a student of Hawkins high just like her, he has this very flow y and fluent look to him. He frowns a bit at her.

"We can reschedule it if you're not up for it today..." he says, Nancy considers it for a second.

"No, I want to finish it so you can show me, since you've never let me see it." She replies a bit coldly and he agrees.

"Okay, keep your chin a bit high." He replies and she leans her head upward slightly, he looks at her and their eyes meet. He could only just stare at her; watching as Nancy's beauty just beams though the room like the sun rising through the horizon. He looks back down as Nancy smirks just slightly. She had a slight feeling of his intentions when he awkwardly asked her to be his "Muse." Which was mostly just him stumbling on her words, and him convincing her by helping her with History class. To just stand in one spot, just too easy for her to pass up.

"So, what is a Muse anyway?" Nancy asks and (Y/n) continues to paint while explaining.

"Well originally they were Greek Goddesses of Art forms, The Nine Daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, but the term means something that inspires you to paint, to create.. and for me.." he says, (Y/n) makes a power move and peers over, staring at Nancy.

"It's something so perfect you can't take your eyes off of." He says, his words caught Nancy off guard, All her life she somewhat kept her cool but at this moment she was actually caught off guard, speechless. There was an awkward silence between them as the mutual attraction began to fester. Nancy, embarrassed just looks back at her Muse spot. (Y/n), even more embarrassed just keeps painting, now keeping his eyes off of her. He pursues his art for another hour and a half of awkwardly cute silence, the two eye each other for a moment and then go back to their jobs.

"Alright, done." He says, breaking the silence, Nancy stands up and stretches her legs a bit, standing on her tippy toes.

"Great, that took forever." She says and walks over next to him, she then finally gets to stand before the painting.

"I'm glad I'll be able to get to see this.."

Nancy halts her sentence looking at the painting, such colors, the way her hair was drawn with such cautious love and attention. Each stroke of the brush was meticulously made with care and complexity. Nancy was at a loss of words as he stood next to her, He smiles a bit, actually proud of himself.

"It's my best work, I want to call it...

"The Mystery Girl.."

Nancy just couldn't believe the attention to detail, the artistic flow of her hair, the almost heavenly like aura around Her, the perfect brush strokes that represented her eyes were an almost perfect color of hers, she just blinked a few times and turned to him.

"This is, Amazing. I knew you were in art class a lot but this is.. whew." She says slightly combing her hair to the side. It has a certain beauty to it all, and that Beauty was Nancy. She turns to him, so amused by what she's witnessing.

"You really are talented, Steve isn't into stuff like this, I don't know why." She says a bit sad, and (Y/n) felt the compliment in his heart, and wanted to feel like this more. He always thought Nancy was this mystery girl, so intriguing, so beautiful and consummate. Once he saw her in Mrs.Duffers history class, like a modern day Audrey Hepburn or a Lady Elsie. Such beauty should be encapsulated in a way to always be existing.

"Thanks. Uh, sorry for making you stay after school those times, I just wanted it to be, perfect." He says.

"No, you don't have to apologize it's, I can see it was really worth it, what do you plan on doing with it?" She asks, "The Painting." She says and he looks at it.

"Once it dries.. that's up to you." He says, Nancy looks at him confused, and realizes what he means.

"I-I can't take this, it took you days to make this." She says and looks back at it.

"Yeah, but it would be easier to explain to your Boyfriend and Parents that you got this made by a professional, than people asking why I have it." He replies. And Nancy looks at him, she was indecisive but then held her ground on it and grabbed him by the hand, it shocked him a bit and he turns to her.

"You're taking this with you, you made it, put it in an exhibit for aspiring painters or something. You deserve it, your Mystery Girl says so." She says with a hint of authority, it was more than enough for (Y/n) to nod sheepishly. She smiles and lets go of his hand. They were interrupted by a horn from outside. Nancy peeks out the window to see a car.

"That's Steve, gotta go." She says, Nancy turns and walks over, offering a handshake, he takes it and she smiles.

"It was nice being your muse." She says, and walks to grab her backpack and he nods, still staring.

"Yeah, it was nice." (Y/n) says and she gives him one last smile before leaving, (Y/n) stands there by himself before turning to the Painting.

"I guess I'll be seeing you.. Mystery Girl."

[theyraylovehate]

Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

-Dustin Henderson (No smut)

-Lucas Sinclair (No smut)

-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

•Marvel

-Iron Man/Tony Stark

-Captian America/Steve Rogers

-Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

-Hawkeye/Clint Barton

-Hulk/Bruce Banner

-Thor

-Loki

-Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

-Black Panther/T'challa

-Doctor Strange/Steven Strange

-Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

-Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

-Starlord/Peter Quill

-Gamora

-Spiderman/Peter Parker

-Falcon/Sam Wilson

-War Machine/James Rhodes

-Valkyrie (Fem/NB only)

•X-Men

-Professor X/Charles Xavier

-Magneto/Erik Lensherr

-Wolverine/James Howlett

-Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

-Rogue

-Jean Grey

-Storm/Ororo Munroe

-Cyclops/Scott Summers

-Mystique/Raven

-Beast/Henry "Hank" McCoy

-Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

-Havok/Alexander Summers

•DC/Young Justice

-Batman/Bruce Wayne

-Superman/Clark Kent

-The Flash/Barry Allen

-Aquaman/Authur Curry

-Cyborg/Victor Stone

-Joker/Jack Oswald White

-Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel

-Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

-DeadShot/Floyd Lawton

-Kid Flash/Wally West

-Nightwing (Robin #1)/ Dick Grayson

-Red Hood (Robin #2)/ Jason Todd

-Robin (#3)/ Tim Drake

-Beast Boy/Garfield Logan

-Superboy/Johnathan "Jon" Kent

-Artemis/Artemis Crock

-Red Arrow/Roy Harper

-Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

-Black Canary/Dinah Lance

-Miss Martian/Megan Morse

-Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm

•Umbrella Academy

-Luther Hargreeves (#1)

-Diego Hargreeves (#2)

-Allison Hargreeves (#3)

-Klaus Hargreeves (#4)

-Five Hargreeves (#5)

-Ben Hargreeves (#6)

-Viktor Hargreeves (#7)

-Marcus Hargreeves (#1)

-Fei Hargreeves (#3)

-Alphonso Hargreeves (#4)

-Sloan Hargreeves (#5)

-Jayme Hargreeves (#6)

-Lila Aryu

-The Handler

•Harry Potter

-Harry Potter

-Ron Weasley

-Hermione Granger

-Fred Weasley

-George Weasley

-Ginny Weasley

-Draco Malfoy

-Sirius Black (Older)

-Cedric Diggory

-Oliver Wood

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

-Remus Lupin (Older)

-Nymphadora Tonks

-Lucious Malfoy (Older)

-Narcissa Malfoy (Older)

-Severus Snape (Older)

-Bill Weasley

-Charlie Weasley

•Marauders

-James Potter

Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

-Lily Evans

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Severus Snape

-Regulus Black

-Lusious Malfoy

-Narcissa Black

-Peter Pettigrew

•Greek Mythology

-Zeus

-Hades

-Posideon

-Apollo

-Hera

-Persephone

-Ares

-Athena

-Demeter

-Aphrodite

-Artemis

-Dionysus

-Hermes

•Divergent

-Beatrice "Tris" Prior

-Caleb Prior

-Eric

-Peter

-Christina

-Will

-Tobias "Four"

-Zeke

Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

-Uriah

•Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

-Luke Skywalker

-Leia Organa

-Han Solo

-Obi-Wan Kenobi

-Kylo Ren

•Supernatural

-Dean Winchester

-Sam Winchester

-Castiel

-Crowley

-Lucifer

-Rowena MacLeod

-Gabriel

-Charlie Bradbury (Fem/NB only)

-Chuck Shurley

-Jody Mills

-Ellen Harvelle

-Kevin Tran

•The Walking Dead

-Rick Grimes

-Daryl Dixon

-Glenn Rhee

-Carl Grimes

-Maggie Greene

-Negan

-Michonne

-Shane Walsh

-Rosita Espinosa

-Carol Peletier

-Paul "Jesus" Monroe

-Abraham Ford

‐Tara Chambler (Fem/NB only)

-Enid

-Ezekiel

-Aaron (Masc/NB only)

•The Walking Dead Game

-Clementine

-Lee

-Kenny

-Luke

-Javier

-Gabriel

-Kate

-Louis

-Omar

-Ruby

-Mitch

-Marlon

-Violet (Fem/NB only)

IT (2017)

-Richie Tozier

-Beverly Marsh

-Eddie Kaspbrak

-Bill Denbrough

-Stanley Uris

-Ben Hanscom

-Henry Bowers

-Mike Hanlon

-Patrick Hockstetter

-Victor Criss

-Belch Huggins

•Desendants

-Mal

-Evie

-Ben

-Jay

-Jane

-Chad

-Doug

-Lonnie

-Carlos

-Uma

-Harry Hook

-Gil

•Maze Runner

-Newt

-Minho

-Gally

-Teresa

-Alby

-Chuck

-Brenda

-Aris

-Thomas

-Frypan

-Jorge

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 16

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from CA: Winter Soldier, injuries, language.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Author’s Note: Okay, few things of note here. Does it feel like you've already read this chapter before? Well, surprise. I just rewrote it. So, I'm sure a lot of it seems pretty familiar to you.

I was incredibly unhappy with the original version of this. I ended up changing my version of Olympus to better suit the MCU's and I regretted it almost immediately. So, we're back to square one. My version of Olympus more closely lines up with the comic version while also being inspired by Blood of Zeus's incredible version too (here and here).

Second, since we will now be getting introduced to more and more of the Reader/Athena’s family, I felt it only right to say that I have actually made a post with the actors and actresses that I have subconsciously been using as faceclaims for the Olympians. So, if you wanted to check that out, you can find part one over here.

Third, this chapter begins to allude to the existence of other God realms. And I want to preface this by saying that anything to do with the other realms and their deities is being taken directly from the comics.

Also, Love and Thunder will have almost no effect here in terms of what is canon and what's not. Russell Crowe is not my Zeus, etc.

[Master List]

They’re surrounded by hauntingly vast darkness - speckled only by distant starlight, standing on this lone structure. But it’s not solid ground that they’ve been teleported to. No, this ancient span is quite literally hovering within the unbelievable confines of outer space. With a sharp drop-off just a few feet behind them, the masonry abruptly crumbled away into the galactic void.

Steve is far too awestruck by the sight suddenly surrounding him, and the rush of oxygen coming back to his aching lungs, to even notice the way your eyes are falling closed before you’re quite literally slipping from his usually steady grasp.

His fingers immediately try to tighten their grip on your waist, but it’s too late. You’re falling to the cobblestoned bridge in a slump of exhaustion, giving him barely any time to catch your head before it makes contact with the rough ground.

He’s on his knees in a second, shield tossed in a scattering heap behind him, as he rotates your cheek in his hand to get a better look at your face while he begins repeating your name.

From above, Sam’s the only thing keeping Sharon from sharing a similar fate as you - with her hand pressed tightly against her bleeding wound. God, he had never wanted any of this to happen to them.

“Did she just say what I think she said, Steve?” She groans, teeth bared in pain.

“I don’t know,” he says, feeling helpless and desperate as he tries to gather you up in his arms. “Come on, Athena.”

Who could even help them all the way out here, he wonders. But then Steve can feel the sharp inhale of breath against his palm, and he sags back slightly as your eyes begin to flutter open once again.

“You’re like a fuckin’ boulder, Rogers,” you mumble in tired awakening, peering up at him - a hand pressed against his chest.

Seeking out your eyes, his thumb presses into the smooth skin against the side of your lips, “You okay? Not gonna pass out on me again, right?”

A rough smile graces your face as you give a rueful shake of your head, pressing your hand against his knee to give yourself enough leverage to stand back up. Steve keeps a stable hand on your right elbow as you sway slightly upon regaining your footing. 

Looking back to where he had tossed the shield, he finds it teetering on the edge of the crumbling bridge and pure nothingness. An inch further, and it would have disappeared into the void of space. He doesn’t even have the mental energy to contemplate how the hell a bridge is floating without supports or how they’re able to breathe in the big dark vastness.

You’re on the verge of fainting again and Sharon’s losing blood, and they were all just teleported from Washington D.C. in a flash of light. Nothing made sense right now.

“Just been doing a lot of back and forth, must of zapped my energy when I pulled the three of you with me. I’ll be fine, just get me back on solid ground and it’ll renew itself,” you offer, giving him a reassuring look before turning your attention back over to Sharon. “You, on the other hand, need to see a healer.”

“Solid ground?” he hears Sam question, eyes wide as he stares forward - beyond the length of the bridge.

When you move to help the other woman, Steve gently pushes you out of the way - handing over his shield so he can get a better hold on Sharon. With an acknowledging nod, you begin to lead the three of them down the gray stone bridge.

“Home sweet home,” you gesture, walking backward for a moment.

As if saying it finally gave him permission to take it in, Steve forces his eyes up and away from the three of you to really look at the oddity before him.

They’re on a stone-cobbled bridge, old and breaking apart, stretched out from the bottom of a floating bit of landmass towards infinity. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. But, for now, he’s going to pretend that this is just normal; that it makes sense.

But what pulls his attention, as he tries to take on the majority of Sharon’s weight from Sam, is the massive island that the bridge is connected to - floating there in the same void of space. Below the landmass, he can see the remnants of Earthen soil - as though the entire island was ripped from a larger structure and thrust into the cosmos.

Just past your shoulder, a massive waterfall cascades over the side of a crystal blue lake - the stream fading to ice vapor as it drips down into the expanse of starlight below. At the edge of the lakebed sits a curved amphitheater and a sprawling temple structure.

“Tell me I’m hallucinating this,” Sharon murmurs next to his shoulder.

If he squints, he can make out a vineyard just past the lake temple. And adjacent to that, near the edge of the island, a rolling hill of yellow wheat. Beyond that, the thick canopy of a forest takes up the rest of the horizon line before everything fades back to the inky stillness of space.

Steve just shakes his head, unable to form any coherent response. 

Stretched out before them, past the edge of the bridge, is a cobblestone street leading into the main portion of a city. He can make out the radiant orange terracotta roofs of the buildings against their bright white exterior. For such a small portion of the floating island, the city is lined with houses, and - dotted between them - Steve can make out the clear architecture of towering temple-like structures.

You laugh, catching his eye as you glance towards the city, “No one really uses this bridge anymore. It’s kind of a visitors-only thing and we don’t get a lot of those these days.”

Sam huffs, giving a quick glance over his shoulder, “Any chance of having stragglers?”

You shake your head, leading the way once again, “Unless there was secretly another Olympian hiding out amongst the STRIKE crew, then not likely. I popped the manhole cover right before we transported. Hopefully, it’ll send them on a wild goose chase through the DC sewer system before they realize what really happened.”

Out of the habit of worry, he looks toward you. Walking with a slight limp, shoulders slumped. And then, in a wave of shocking cold recollection, the fight comes back to him. Like water against the shore, it laps up and over his thoughts until all he can see in the stormy sea is Bucky.

That was Bucky, no doubt in his mind. As he lives and breathes that was James Bucanhann Barnes standing in front of him with no idea who Steve was.

And he’s immediately hit with a torrent of questions that he can’t answer. Can’t even dream of comprehending how or why. But in his heart, in his soul, he just knows what he saw. The ghost of his best friend, still alive and breathing. But now he was like an opaque reflection of the man Steve had once known. Shards of him caught in the kaleidoscope of memories.

He feels your hand on his forearm, catching your gaze in a burst of emotion. Almost like you had known exactly where his mind had trailed off to as you had fallen back beside him - a quiet understanding passing in the blink of an eye as he forces his shoulders back and walks forward with a soldier’s stride, fingers gripping Sharon’s waist.

I know, your expression seemed to say. But not now, Rogers.

At last, you make it to the end of the bridge - two flame-lit pillars resting on either side. You pause, resting your hand on the ground for a moment. Steve swears he can see a shimmer of blue light drape itself over your back as you take a shuddering breath. When you rise to your feet, you almost seem renewed with a sense of energy.

Steve’s gaze falls on the people scattered throughout the street. Dressed in colorful tunics and cloaks, they go about their day - barely sparing the four of them a second glance. He’s so distracted by the oddity of the scene (something that seems to be straight out of a history book or a documentary), that he doesn’t even notice that you’ve passed Sam the shield and taken Sharon into your arms - scooping her up bridal style like she doesn’t weight more than a feather.

He balks in surprise, but you just shake your head - shelving the argument that was about to spill from his lips for another time.

“Be faster this way,” you explain, already walking ahead of them albeit backward. “We need to get her to the healing houses before she loses any more blood.”

Sharon grunts in annoyance as her shoulder is jostled, “Still here, for the record.”

Sam gives him a look like a shrug before he hands over the shield and follows after you both, Steve quickly on your heels - the shield tucked into his side.

You lead them down a curved street, past more people who pay them no attention, through a sprawling marketplace where your name is called out in greeting. You offer nods and praise to everyone as you easily navigate the narrowing street - cautious of Sharon still in your arms.

With each and every step forward, the unsettling nature of where they are seems to sink in just that much further in Steve’s chest.

He trusted you completely when you said you were from a different world. He knew, logically in his mind, that this place likely wouldn’t look like modern-day New York City. But god, it just doesn’t feel real as he passes the flowing red and gold banner flags and a group of tunic-clad children who point and whisper at him and Sam.

Maybe this was how an ant felt under the scrutiny of a magnifying glass, he contemplates as he grips the shield’s straps a little bit tighter against his side - ducking his head down. Not that he felt under attack, but all this? This strange and glorious alien world? People like Steve didn’t just walk in and go unnoticed.

The street curves back around, now leading uphill. From cobblestone streets to mosaic tiles, you lead them into a more regal section of the city. Here there are temples and lush greenery. Tree canopies shade the journey, soft music fills their ears, and the quiet bubbling of fountains can be heard as they pass through the area. 

And even though they’re surrounded by the vast blanket of endless space, and even with no visible light source outside of the floating island, the sun is shining down upon them. There are blue skies above, birds flying past, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves upon the mosaic tiles into a sort of aerial dance.

It feels like he’s trespassing in a place where humans were never meant to set foot.

Looking back at the two men following behind you, taking in the wide-eyed kind of wonderment on Sam’s face and the still trying to comprehend it all look on Steve’s, you offer, “I’ll give you a proper tour once we get this one fixed up.”

“Sounds great,” Sharon groans with a biting tone, lifting her head up just enough to glance at the two of them.

Steve clears his throat, “I’m not sure if we have that kind of time…”

“Please,” you smirk, “you can spend more time here than you think. Over here.”

Gesturing with your head, Steve follows your direction towards a series of domed buildings tucked up ahead. Fixed with a row of ornate columns, you ascend the steps of the largest of the temple-like structures - the one with the marble image of a snake wrapped around a staff on the exterior of the two main pillars.

You’re careful as you guide Sharon inside. Steve takes a final glance back at the small group of people who have seemingly congregated behind them before he slips through the doorway after you both. Struggling on her feet, but still keeping her head up, you gently hand her over to Steve as you walk down one of the corridors.

“You okay?” he murmurs as he settles next to Sharon.

Dropping her head back on her shoulder to look up at him with a less than amused expression, she says, “The things I do for you, Rogers.”

He bites down a smile.

“Asclepius?” you call out.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the softer tones of the room, a cool breeze makes the white drapes surrounding the open archway windows flutter into the chamber. Several wooden chaise lounges are laid out on the opposite wall, covered by soft blue cushions. The room is lit by warm candlelight flickering against gray-speckled marble posts.

“I was wondering when you would be coming back to check on - ” an older man appears from around the corner of the chamber, an exasperated expression on his face, which immediately falls to true annoyance once he sees them all standing there.

“Ah, so you’ve brought another one of them for me to fix up.”

You fall back to Sharon’s side, guiding her forward, “And I trust, as always, that we’ll have no issue with care.”

The man stares for a long moment before relenting, “And what do we have this time?”

He comes around Sharon’s left and easily takes her weight - she groans in annoyance from the jostling, grabbing hold of his green robe as she bites back a swear.

“Bullet wound to the left shoulder,” you supply, taking the lead once again.

With a shake of his head, he huffs, “Typical humans and their barbaric weaponry.”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes as the three of you disappear around the corner without any indication that they should follow after. Once your voices fade from earshot, he blows out a weary sigh.

“So… alien planet, right?”

Steve shakes his head, the strangeness of the entire situation finally sinking in as he looks around at the temple chamber decorated in marble and gold accents, “Alien… dimension, I think is more accurate.”

“Okay,” Sam breathes out, turning to look out one of the ornate archways as if trying to convince himself that this was really happening.

He wants to reach out and touch the carved horse head at the end of one of the lounge chairs, but Steve ultimately resists, gripping the leather strap of his shield more tightly - knuckles going white with the effort.

None of this felt real.

Maybe he had just been knocked out cold during the fight and was currently imagining all of this. He’s not sure if his mind could come up with a place like this though. But at least with Sam here, looking equally confused, Steve doesn’t feel so alone as he stares at the distantly familiar architecture that he had only ever seen before in books.

And then a booming voice has them both startling as they whip around just in time to see a hulking figure come striding up the steps.

“Epione! I need another vial!”

The man, no - the god - that stands before him easily towers over even Steve. Bare-chested save for a faded orange apron that reeks of sweat and metallic fibers. From his soot-covered face, he pushes back a set of golden welder’s goggles. Wiping his dusty brown-colored hair back with his hand, he squints slightly before locking eyes on the supersoldier.

“You’re not Epione,” he grumbles, hands falling to his hips.

And then his eyes rise to look somewhere over Steve’s shoulder, and the supersoldier feels an almost immediate sense of relief as you lay a hand on his arm and gently push yourself in front of him. There was only so much he could take in a single day.

“Ah, so, you must be more of my dear sister’s strays. Bit of a nasty habit you got there, Athena.”

Steve feels your fingers curl around his arm as you pull him over towards Sam, “Should only be a few hours before she’s back to her usual cheerful self. And I see you’ve met my brother.”

The man gives a crooked wolf-like grin in response.

“The All-father would be pissed if he knew what you were doing.”

You tilt your chin up in defiance, “Lucky he’s with the Council then. You’ll find Epione with Panacea.”

He nods once, dark amber eyes giving the three of you a final once-over at your dismissal, “Sister.”

With a nod of your own in return, the man disappears down a corridor and out of sight.

“Think I might need to go see that healer friend of yours for my own racing heart,” Sam sighs, shaking his head from the rush of nerves.

You laugh, pulling his arm, “Hephaestus is rough around the edges, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s got a soft spot for humans too. Now, you two need anything fixed up while we’re here?”

Steve glances over at Sam before they both, ultimately, shake their heads. You knew he would heal in only a matter of time and the other man seemed no worse for wear - thank God. He had never wanted to pull someone like Sam into his world and he wasn’t sure if he could handle him getting genuinely hurt because of it.

At least Sharon knew the line of work she had signed up for, even if he was still internally beating himself up for her getting shot in the first place.

“Okay then,” you smooth your hands over your pants for a moment, glancing back at the place where Sharon was taken just a few minutes prior before you look back at them with a sort of forced smile, “Come with me.”

You lead them back out onto the street, pointing out different buildings and people as you lead them up the curved hill towards the massive temple looming over the city. Steve has to crane his neck back to see the top of the buildings - seemingly resting amongst the clouds.

“This whole area is Apollo’s - whenever he gets back. The twins are never here, that’s why I was on Earth in the first place. Our father wanted me to track them down,” your voice fades in and out as he absorbs the area.

“Asclepius is his son. Basically took over all the healing aspects of the craft. His wife and daughters run the whole place…”

“So, that makes him your… nephew?” he can hear Sam ask.

You nod, offering a wide grin, “Yes, but I know how that must appear to mortals.”

Sam laughs, “Dude looks old enough to be your grandad.”

Steve can’t take his eyes off the world around him enough to notice the way you keep glancing back at him.

“Well, Olympians function a bit differently than humans, Mr. Wilson.”

You guide them towards the main street once again. The mosaic tiles are painted with deep blues and glimmering golds, making up elaborate stars and circles. Just beyond rests a marble fountain where several people are congregating. But it’s to the left of it that you direct their attention.

Steve sees the small domed temple first, backed up against the base of a mountain, bracketed by two spiral staircases on either side of it. But then his eyes quickly rise upward to the towering structure above that.

The temple is made up of shining white stone and glistening golden detailings, with several waterfalls and sprawling green and purple plants hanging down the sides. Banners and flags decorate the forward pillars, with one massive golden statue of the god of Olympus with his famous lightning bolt in hand residing in the center of the upper courtyard.

But then, as if only just now occurring to him, an old memory comes to the forefront of his mind and he can’t help it from bubbling out of his mouth as he says, “You told me your father was dead.”

Your mouth opens and closes twice and Steve would say that you almost look like you’re trying not to laugh when you finally respond.

“No, I said that Thor desecrated my father’s corpse. But that was over a millennia ago.”

Even Sam twists his head back to look at your nonchalance voice.

Sighing, you elaborate plainly, “I told you I could withstand a nuke. Did you really think decapitation could stop Zeus? As long as we have the Promethean Flame, Steve, we’re pretty indestructible. Now, come on.”

With a shrug, Sam follows after you, glancing up at the temple for only a moment longer.

You lead them just a few steps away to the round temple entrance at the foot of the mountain face.

Looking almost shy as you hold out your arm, you say, “The Temple of Athena.”

Steve blinks, glancing from you to the white pillars surrounding the entrance, to the bronze door with golden owl-head knobs, and finally to the placard resting above the archway with a Gorgon’s face.

The other man shakes his head, knocking Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “Don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Cap.”

That makes you laugh, guiding them inside with a jerk of your head and a playful, “After you, gentlemen.”

Steve feels strange placing his shield down on the bright white cushions of the chaise lounge, feeling incredibly out of place amongst the grandeur of his surroundings. So, you forcibly pull it from his grasp and place it face down on it, purposefully rubbing the grime into the cushion to make a point.

“You and Sharon, huh?”

His head whips up, eyes scanning your face.

With a laugh, you bump his arm with your own, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I think it’s sweet.”

“We’re… we’re not, no. She’s my field partner and my neighbor,” and probably my only other friend outside of you and Sam he stops himself from saying.

You ah with understanding, rubbing at your elbow for a taunt moment as you look around the elaborate hall before giving him another once over.

“Rogers, you look exhausted.”

Sam had disappeared moments before to a washroom you had directed him towards. Steve hadn’t felt so… small in your presence before. It was strange. But then again, this whole place was strange. He wasn’t sure if he had fully realized and accepted that he was standing on an alien world just yet.

He gulps, clenching his jaw, “Been a long few days.”

You glance down at your boots, looking awkward against the golden decor, “Can I get you anything?”

Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head, the reality of the situation they had escaped from in DC finally sinking in.

“A plan? How the hell we’re gonna fix this mess,” he winces at the harshness of his tone, rubbing at his forehead, “I’m sorry, I didn’t - ”

“No,” you shake your head, brilliant eyes latching onto his, “No, you’re completely within your right to be frustrated. But, maybe eat something and let me try and explain a few things? I’m sure you have questions.”

Giving him a sheepish smile, Steve sags under the weight of it, nodding tiredly and following you down the marble hallway to a small balcony overlooking a series of waterfalls from the temple just above your own - so close he could reach his hand out and feel the mist billowing up from them.

Two lounge chairs rest against the outer wall with a glass table in between them - on it sits a tray heaped with familiar food.

“Sorry, don’t have a chessboard this time,” you explain, taking a seat on the edge of one of the chairs, and plucking a string of grapes for yourself.

With wary eyes, Steve mirrors you - sitting on the chair opposite yours, right on the edge - eyeing the food but ultimately feeling no real urge to eat. It feels like the echo of a different time, a different setting, not that long ago.

The rushing water fills the void of silence that stretches between the two of you and Steve tries his best not to let his mind wander. When your eyes find him, he sighs.

“That was Bucky.”

You entwine your fingers in a loose fist in front of you, nodding with a solemn expression, “I know.”

“He looked right at me like he didn’t even…” he trails off, feeling a strange lump in his throat as he recalls the moment over and over again in his mind’s eye. “Like he didn’t even know me,” he finally forces out, unable to maintain your gaze any longer as he looks towards the waterfalls.

“A normal human would age,” you press gently.

And then it clicks into place. Camp Lehigh, the bunker, the computer.

His teeth grit together, “Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Arnim Zola took him; experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall.”

He can hear you sigh before you say, “And all this time, he was their prisoner. Who knows what could happen to a person’s mind after something like that. It’s no wonder that he couldn’t recognize you right away, Steve.”

When he finally looks back at you, you’re staring into space - somewhere just past him, as if caught in your own thoughts.

“What is it?”

Your eyes slowly drift back towards his own but there’s the flicker of something resting within them. Almost like… hesitation. 

“I’ve never liked keeping secrets from people.”

Steve tries to clamp down the sudden tightening in his chest, almost fearing what will fall from your lips next. From Fury to Pierce, the fact that HYDRA had been growing within SHIELD… so many lies from people and institutions he had placed his faith in.

“Uhm…” he watches the way your hands ball together, nervously twisting and pulling at your fingers - nothing like the battle-ready woman he had fought alongside just an hour before, “When we were at the Smithsonian, I saw the tribute exhibit for him. And, I thought I recognized him from somewhere before - not, the history books.”

He finds himself nodding, leaning forward to a point where his foot is almost touching your own.

“You know I’m a lot older than I let on. And… I’ve been around, on Earth, for a long, long time, Steve,” slowly, you stand, fingers digging into your thigh as you look out over the sea of floating temples.

“He didn’t want us interfering with human affairs; my father. Once you lot stopped worshiping us, what was the point? But I just couldn’t stay away. Mortals always… fascinated me. The human spirit and their ability to fight back and rebel, even if they know they’re not guaranteed victory or even their own life, but they still go out and fight.”

Darting a look back at him, he tries his best to offer what he hopes is a reassuring smile your way.

“We couldn’t interfere like we use to, couldn’t change the playing field. The age of Achilles had long since passed. But we still found our ways,” he watches the way you take a shuddering breath before saying, “I was part of the Greek resistance when Germany invaded Athens.”

He can feel his brows rise at that.

With a sad kind of look in your eyes, you move back to the chair opposite him, focusing on your knees instead of his face.

“I watched them raise their flag over the Acropolis, saw them destroy the land, my people starving. And all I was allowed to do was join a medical team. The Red Cross needed extra hands and they said the invasion of Italy was starting - ”

Steve’s eyes widen marginally as you finally look up at him.

“ - I wasn’t sure it was the same person, but I recognized his picture at the museum, and then today…” you trail off, rubbing your temple for a moment. “I was there, in Sicily, when the 107th landed.” 

With a weak laugh, you say, “I removed shrapnel from Sergeant Barnes’ shoulder. He was so… young. We spoke maybe a handful of times in the camp. But I remember his face and I promise you - Steve - if there’s any chance that your friend’s still in there, then we’re going to figure out a way to get him back.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, too mentally worn to take in much more, he finally says, “Well, we better figure something out fast. We’ve only got hours until they launch Insight.”

“We have time,” you say, sort of distantly before you blink back to him. Shrugging your shoulders in explanation, “I told you, time works a bit differently here.”

And then you’re standing up, reaching for his hand without actually grabbing it - urging him to join you at the banister overlooking the pools of floating clouds. You clutch the railing, eyes staring out past the landscape into that never-ending void just beyond the edge of the world.

He still can’t believe what he’s looking at - never having dreamed of stepping foot in this place. He’s not sure he could even dream something like this up.

“If you went a few billion light-years that way,” you start. “You would come across the Celestial Heliopolis - home of the Egyptian Gods. And that way,” you point vaguely towards your left, “Another few billion light-years or so and you’d be in The Upperworld - the Mayans.”

“And back the way we came from, just beyond the bridge? If you just kept going and going, you’d eventually reach Asgard,” you look up at him with a tight-lipped smile. “On Thor’s world, a day spent there is the same as a day on Earth. Here though? You could spend two weeks before a full day had even passed down there.”

Steve blinks, “How is that even possible…?”

You give a sorrowful chuckle, leaning your arms on the railing, “The God realms all fell into existence at one point or another. Some of them came before the others. Technically, Asgard is younger than Olympus - therefore, closer to your dimension. But, if you went as far as you possibly could that way - ”

You point past the waterfalls once again, “Beyond the Celestial Heliopolis and Dilmun and Ta-Lo… you’d eventually come to Orun. A single day on Earth is equivalent to ten years there.”

With a sigh, you nudge your elbow against his hand, “I don’t know exactly how it works out, Steve. All I’m saying is, we have time to recover and come up with an actual plan before any real time passes down on Earth.”

He nods slowly as he tries to understand the idea, unable to shake the feeling that he needs to move now. Act now, figure out how to end Project Insight, find Bucky, and take down HYDRA within SHIELD now.

But then he remembers -

“Wait a second,” he turns, looking down at you with a hardened gaze. “Two weeks for one day, right?”

You nod, brows quirking up slightly.

Stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, he turns towards you, “When you told me you were off-world for sixteen months, how long were you actually away for?”

A smile sneaks past your grip before you even out your features once again, standing up straight to match his stance, “Technically, I was only here for seven of your Earth months. So… roughly… eight years? Give or take a day.”

Steve looks at you, from your scuffed-up boots up to your warm face - smiling at him in a playful challenge. And he would have barely even guessed a day had passed since the events in New York. If he had ever once doubted your true powers, now there was no real question in his mind. You were immortal.

And then a strange series of thoughts hit him, seemingly out of nowhere.

Eight years had passed you by in the blink of an eye. Did time move differently for you? Had it seemed like no real time had passed since fighting the Chitauri? Had you missed him at all in that stretch of time?

That thought alone rattles around in his brain for a long moment, dragging up curious feelings he can’t put a proper name to. 

And then your hand slides into his own and a universe bursts into existence in his mind, feelings and memories rushing past in bright starlight tunnels until everything settles into place and all he can see is your hand in his, your laugh in his ear, your hands on his waist as he drives you through Central Park on his motorcycle, the venomous fear that had ruptured through his veins at the thought of you dying, and the immediate heart-racing relief when he saw you once again.

And he’s hesitant to put a name to it, but the feeling blooms within his chest - encapsulating his heart and weaving through his thrumming veins like an out-of-control grapevine until all he can see - all he can think about - is you.

When he comes back to himself a moment later, heart beating a mile a minute as he gently squeezes your hand with his rough fingers, he catches your wary expression.

“There’s, uhm, something I need to show you, Steve.”

And it’s like a bucket of freezing Arctic ocean water has been dumped over his head as he finds himself nodding slowly, allowing you to lead him through the vast corridors of your residence with your hand never leaving his own.

He stares in disbelief as you lean in the open doorway of the chamber, barely able to meet his eyes as he takes another step into the room.

Nick Fury regards him with tired interest from his chair as he sips from a golden goblet “About damn time.”

One look at you and all you can say is a tight-lipped, “Told you I didn’t like keeping secrets.”

Agent Hill is standing next to the Director, offering a much more sympathetic expression as she regards him with a polite, “Captain Rogers.”

And despite himself, despite everything he has been through in the last three days, Steve feels a blinding rage lighting up behind his eyes. A force so strong it almost has him punching the very ornate pillar next to the bedside lounge chair. Instead, he compels himself to tighten his fist at his side and drop his voice down to a painfully distinct monotone.

“How many more people you got in your circle, Nick?”

“Steve - ” you begin to say, almost pleading, but he pulls away, walking further into the chamber - like he can’t even bear to look at you right now.

“You know, first you send me onto that ship, withholding vital information from me. Then you show me the little project you and Stark’ve been working on right under our noses. Compartmentalizing, right? God, did you send her - ” he gestures back at you, nostrils flaring, “ - all across the globe on an imaginary manhunt too?”

Fury’s lip twitches up as he considers him above the rim of his goblet, “Emil Blonsky was taken from the Alaskan facility, Captain. Just got bad intel on where he ended up.”

The fight begins to wane as his shoulders finally release the tension.

“She did chest compressions all the way to the hospital, sitting there covered in your blood,” Sharon’s shaking hands and lost expression fill his mind, “we watched your heart stop.”

“Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he leans back against the wall, staring at the three of you with uncertainty in his eyes. It hurt. All of it, everything him and Sharon and Sam had been dragged through and this entire time…

“Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?”

Hill regards him, “Any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful.”

Nick shrugs his head to the side in agreement, “Can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides, I wasn’t sure who to trust.” 

Steve glances over at you, anger finally boiling down in his chest to the point where he can see clearly again.

You fix him with a straight expression, eyes giving nothing away, “Safest place to lie low and heal. He’s been here almost two weeks now.”

“Enough time to mend that punctured lung,” Hill agrees, swiping up the golden goblet for herself much to Fury’s annoyance.

And he can’t just stand there and look at the man, whose blood had coated his hands, sitting in relaxed comfort as if it had never even happened. Like the hell Steve had been through over the past two days had been for nothing.

With an exhausted shake of his head, he pushes off from the wall and makes his way past you and down the hall. 

He can hear you calling out his name as he storms out, almost tempted to turn back to you to explain. But instead, he takes the entry steps two at a time, disappearing into the alien world with no real destination in mind. 

Only knowing that he can’t stand to be in there a moment longer - with all those lies just hanging over him.

At the sound of your voice calling for him, Sam appears from a side chamber, jogging after Steve as he glances back at you with a confused look on his face.

“You good?” he asks cautiously, taking in Steve’s appearance with a concerned eye.

He nods tightly.

There was only so much one man could take - could carry the burden of. Steve wasn’t sure how much more he could take on right now.

“Just need to clear my head,” he manages.

Sam’s still keeping pace with him though, as they move down one of the curved pathways leading away from the temple. And everything just seems to overwhelm him all at once when he’s met with the sight of the sprawling cityscape and rows of temples.

Three days ago he was boarding a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Now… now he’s standing in the middle of a place straight out of a sci-fi movie mixed with Ancient Greek architecture and it’s overwhelming, to put it mildly.

Coming to a stop, staring out at the landscape without really seeing it, Steve turns to look at his companion.

“Look, what you did today… I’m sorry, Sam. Just, go back to her. Right now, I need to - ”

“Steve,” Sam refutes. “We just got dumped on an alien planet, you found out the organization you work for has been lying to you, and you’ve been on the run for two days. Let’s just go back to your girl and talk this out.”

And part of him wants to - longs to - but he shakes his head, “I just need a few minutes to myself, let this all sink in, right?”

The other man offers him a smile, “I can be pretty good company when you’re not trying to lap me on a morning run, you know?”

At that moment, he finds himself forever thankful for Sam Wilson. But he shakes his head once more and takes a step back, “I appreciate it, but right now I need this.”

With a sigh, Sam’s eyes are distant as he looks out at the temple just beyond Steve’s shoulder, “Don’t get yourself into too much trouble then.”

Shaking his head, he offers a less than convincing, “Does that sound like me?”

And then Sam is slowly backtracking up the hill, around the side of the mountain, before finally disappearing from sight. And Steve is left with his own tidal wave of thoughts as he glances between the main cobblestone street and the well-worn dirt path just beyond.

After retrieving Natasha from the set meeting point, you finally feel that enough time has passed for you to go looking for the missing supersoldier. Leaving the two agents and ex-Director to consult Romanoff’s latest intel from SHIELD, you slip out of the chamber unnoticed.

Sam journeyed down to the healing temples at your insistence, when he returned two hours ago with Steve’s shield in hand. You didn’t blame him - after all the shit that had been piled onto his shoulders, it was a miracle the man was upright and functioning at all.

Following the distant trill of Pallas’ call, you find yourself wandering through the backcountry trails, and you’re not surprised in the slightest to find the blonde-haired man situated on the edge of the natural pool within the small garden enclosure tucked away in the clearing of Artemis’ forest.

Like a homing beacon call, you follow the sound of your oldest companion through the spiraling paths and flora of the garden before you come to the center of it all. 

Sitting there with his jacket off and his shoes removed, arms draped over his bent knees as he looks into the reflecting water. Pallas sitting diligently at his side.

“You know,” you begin softly, so as not to startle him, “Not many people, let alone mortals, can say they’ve been within the sacred grounds of Athena.”

A slow half-smile appears on the corner of his lips, though he doesn’t turn to acknowledge you any further.

Moving next to Pallas, you cross your legs as you sit next to them on the moss-covered ground. A hand falling to rest on the owl’s head, much to his pleased head-butting and chirping. Silence stretches between the two of you once again, broken up only by the sounds of Pallas nipping at your wrist.

And then, at last, Steve’s voice breaks the stillness.

“I think I’m just waiting to wake up.”

You turn to look at him, the strange mortal man who had somehow woven his way into your life, “I know this seems… unreal, maybe even insane. But it was the safest place to hide away, just sorry I couldn’t give you any warning beforehand.”

He nods in understanding, fingers twitching along his bare forearm.

“Before he got to your apartment, Fury messaged me and Hill. He trusts her most of all. And me?” you shake your head, looking down at your lap as you draw your hands inward, “He’s known me for decades now, I guess that’s enough in his mind. I wanted to tell you, but when I left here he was still unconscious. And then we were on a highway and your friend threw me out of a moving vehicle.”

“I get it,” he says quickly, soft blue eyes finally meeting your gaze. “It was just… so much all at once. I needed a minute to think, I guess.”

Feeling the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, you look around the lush garden. It had taken you decades to cultivate it all and it had become overgrown and untamed in your absence. 

“Not a bad spot to take a breather.”

And then, almost as an afterthought, you add, “When I pictured bringing you to Olympus it was definitely under different circumstances.”

Steve turns his body towards you, dropping one knee down to the ground as he begins to smirk, “You wanted to bring me here?”

“Well,” your hand finds purchase on Pallas’ head once again, fingers combing through the soft brown feathers. “As hard as that is to believe, I actually consider you a good friend, despite your terrible chess strategies.”

That gets him to laugh, a bright shock of sunlight that makes a smile form on your own face.

The moment stretches between you, simmering off before Steve straightens his back, gaze lost along the far wall of the chamber, “It all has to go.”

His eyes meet yours once again, but there’s an assuredness now resting within their depths, “HYDRA grew within SHIELD for so long, you can’t take one down without the other.”

Standing with a soft groan, you look down at him, “I never was a fan of the security council, you know.”

He glances at your outstretched hand before taking it in his own, rising to his feet.

���Fury’s not gonna like this, but you know I’m with you, Steve. If you’ll still have me.”

The supersoldier smiles down at you, “Be a fool not to.”

With a final affirming nod, you say, “Come on, I wanna see how 13’s doing and maybe convince my brother to add a few upgrades to that wing-pack of Wilson’s.”

“He’d do that?” 

You watch as Steve bends down to nab his shoes and forgotten jacket from the ground, seeing the tiredness still resting between his brows as you move away from the water’s edge. 

“Eh,” you shrug, “he’s got a soft spot for humans just like I do.”

Pallas swoops past you before gliding down to rest on Steve’s shoulder. You can barely hide your shock as the owl chirps happily, nudging the side of the supersoldier’s head with his beak.

An unexpected warmth washes over you as you look at your oldest companion and the human you had grown to call a true friend. And in that moment, you were surprised to realize that there was almost nothing you wouldn’t do to help this god among men. 

Steve looks down at you with an all too easy smile and gently bumps his arm against yours as you lead him back up the path to your temple.

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[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

A little about me

I’m 19 and an animal lover. I mostly write comfort ficus

My rules

This is my list of Fandoms I will write for and things I WILL and WON'T write for

Things I really write

Angst

Enemies to lovers

Fluff/ comfort

Yandere ( I'm bad at it though and don't condone this behavior in real life)

Female x Female

Male x male ( again not to good at it but I try)

Male x female

Male x Gender neutral

Female x Gender neutral

Poly

Things I won't write

Age gaps over 5+ years

Pregnancy ( not good at it and it makes me uncomfortable)

Abuse

Suicide ( I will write the reader or any other character dying just not by Suicide)

Self harm ( it's triggering to me and others)

Eating disorders

NSFW

Harry potter characters I will write

Neville longbottom

Luna Lovegood

Hermione Granger

Fred weasley

George weasley

Sirius Black

Remus lupin

The great Harry Potter himself

The owl house

Luz

Amity

Willow

Gus

Hunter

Eda

King ( platonic only)

Raine ( can someone tell me if spelled their name right?)

Avatar the last Airbender (NOT the live action version but the animated version)

Aang

Toph

Suki (she's the only exception where I'll do Live or animated)

Sokka

Katara

Zuko

Haru

Ninjago

Cole

Jay

Kai

Nya

Lloyd

Zane

Starwars

Anakin

Obi-Wan

Padme

Luke Skywalker

Leia skywalker

Percy jackson/ Heroes of olympus

Charles beckendorf

Silena beauregard

Annabeth chase (book version only)

Percy jackson ( book version only)

Will solace

Tyson ( platonic only)

Jason grace

Piper mclean

Thalia grace

Leo valdez

Nico di angelo ( again platonic only unless you're a guy then I will do romantic since he's gay)

Bianca di angelo

Hazel Levesque

Frank Zhang

Legend of Korra

Bolin

Korra

Asami

Avatar Wan ( my personal favorite)

Marvel

Steve Rogers

Sam wilson

Peter parker ( Toby, Andrew and Tom versions)

Vision (platonic only)

Wanda

T'Challa

Shuri

Pietro

Natasha

Jean Grey

Scott summers

Dc

Barry allen

Cisco Ramon

Kara Danvers

Alex Danvers

Clark kent

Lois lane

Oliver queen

Top gun

Nick bradshaw

Naven Hollywood idk if I spelled his first name right

Leonard Wolfe Wolfman

Blood of Zeus

Heron

Electra

Alexia

Hermes

Zeus

Apollo

Ares

Hera

I think that's all the fandoms I can think of for now please send in request

[bambibabysblog]

Thunderbolts and Lightning Part 1

Summary: Peter Parker has angered the gods and now there is a price he must pay will his friend Y/N help him appease the Olympians?

Pairing: Zeus!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 727

Rating: M for suggestive dialogue at the end, more tags will be added as the story progresses

Inspiration: I was a Percy Jackson kid that now has daddy issues and an obsession with Steve Rogers

Author’s Note: Hi! This is my very first fic and I’m super nervous to post, I know it’s a lot of build-up and ends on a cliffhanger but that’s just to see if people are interested. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!

Y/N sat at the dining room table watching as the storm clouds rolled in. She had always loved the rain. The way it turned the grass and flowers into a vibrant paradise, even the usual cold, metal skyline of New York City seemed livelier when it rained. Y/N found herself smiling into her warm mug of peppermint tea. She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the knock on her door until it was practically knocked off its hinges. When Y/N opened the door her best friend, Peter Parker, barged in and sat heavily on her couch. He put his head in his hands and started mumbling to himself. “ I screwed up Y/N, I screwed up really bad.” Y/N took in the sight of Peter Parker slowly, he looked like he hadn’t slept in at least a week and needed a change of clothes. Y/N put her mug down and sat next to her friend. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Peter looked at Y/N and shook his head “no, I’m not okay. I just pissed off all of Olympus.” Y/N laughed and replied, “I’m sure it’s not that bad Peter, nothing can be worse than when you melted that bowl of muffin mix in the microwave.” Peter cracked a small smile “ I wish that was true, Y/N I don’t think you’re going to believe me when I tell you what happened.” “Try me, Pete.” Peter looked down at his hands and sighed, “ I think that the gods of Olympus are going to murder me.” Y/N laughed and shook her head, Peter continued, “no Y/N you have to believe me, they’re going to come after me and I need you to promise me that you’re going to be safe.” “Peter I’m not sure what you took but next time you have to give me some.” Peter shook his head frantically. “Y/N you don’t understand the gods think I stole something and now they’re coming after me.”

“Well did you steal something?” Y/N asked. “Of course not! I know I’m not the smartest person but I’m not that stupid.” He replied. Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch “ if you didn’t steal anything then there’s no reason for them to try and kill you. What do they think you stole anyway?” Peter looked around like someone was watching and then whispered “they think I stole Athena’s flower.”

“Athena’s flower? What even is that?”

“I have no idea but you know I wouldn’t steal that especially because of Aunt May’s allergies.”

“Why don’t you just go to Olympus and explain your side of the story to them?”

“You know that no mortal can enter Olympus without express permission from the gods.”

“So just ask for permission?”

“And how do you propose I do that exactly?”

Y/N dropped to her knees dramatically and started shouting “ Oh mighty Zeus, the great sky daddy! Can we pretty please come up into your big sky fortress so my friend Peter can clear his name?” Y/N peeked one eye open and sighed, “well I guess that the gods can’t be that mad at you.”

All of a sudden a crash of thunder shook the building after it followed a brilliant flash of lightning. Y/N and Peter jump and look at each other. Y/N breaks the silence “I’m sure that was just a coincidence.” There came a knock on the door, it sounded almost hesitant. Y/N moves towards the door but Peter grabs her wrist, “what are you doing?” She replies “I’m answering the door, it could be Mrs. Johnson, you know she gets nervous when the weather is bad.” Y/N continues to move towards the door and opens it slowly.

At first, all she sees is a well-defined torso then she slowly drags her eyes up to be met with two earth-toned eyes. The owner of these eyes speaks in a smooth and even voice, “good evening miss, my name is Sam Wilson and my employer is very interested in speaking with you and your friend.” Y/N swallows thickly and asks “and who exactly is your employer Mr. Wilson?” Sam laughs and leans in close to whisper “he’s the guy you were just on your knees for sweetheart.”

[lunarbuck]

Reset - One

Желание

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 5.7k

You wake to the fading image of his beautiful smile and the sound of heavy footsteps, signaling the beginning of your new life of nightmares.

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, character death, swearing, description of injury, blood

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: I'm so excited for this first chapter!! Please let me know what you think <3 huge thank you to @candlelight-letters and @cwbucky for beta reading this for me!!!

Chapter 2

The first time you saw him, you thought he couldn't be real. You'd heard the stories, the legends, but they were just that. Stories. They had to be. His gaze could burn cities. It could sear through flesh.

But he's real, oh he's real. And as he drags you through what's left of the safehouse, reduced to rubble, you find a sense of peace. It washes over you like a river, cool and soft. You know that today is the day you will die, but you will have died fighting for what you believe in. You gave your last full measure of devotion to SHIELD, to the Avengers, to the people who will not just sit back and let their world turn to ashes.

Your legs give out after a few miles, so he carries you. He is not gentle; he tosses you over his shoulder and doesn't bother to shift you when his bones and gear dig into your abdomen. The world looks so different up here with your new perspective.

You should have known that the plan wouldn't have worked. You should have known they weren't bluffing about their secret weapon. You were naïve. A crime punishable by death.

His boots crunch against the cracked pavement, and for a moment, you close your eyes and imagine that you hear the footsteps of Steve. He was always coming to your rescue, even when you didn't need it. Always gotta be there for my best girl, he'd say. He'd hold you close and protect your back. He was your partner in every sense of the word, but he was so so much more.

Now, he's buried in that pile of rubble.

A small groan escapes your lips. It's the first sound you've made in what feels like years. He doesn't react, walking with what you can only describe as a pep in his step as if you are nothing to him. You must be; he doesn't seem to have human emotion. When he stormed into the safehouse, the mask that covered his face did nothing to protect you from the fire in his eyes. There were fifteen of you in that safe house, fifteen people who fought tooth and nail.

It wasn't enough.

He was faster, stronger. You thought he was going to kill you right there, but instead of bringing the knife down into your chest, he lodged it into your arm and tossed you to the side. You landed hard against the wall and could do nothing as he slaughtered your friends. Your family.

Steve had burst through the door a moment later; someone must have pressed a panic button. Hope bloomed, and for a moment, you thought maybe he could save you. He found you bleeding against the wall, but before he could get to you, he was intercepted. The men fought, nearly equally matched.

It was like watching Zeus and Hades battling. You'd never seen such feats of strength before. Steve tried to appeal to the man inside his opponent, someone long gone. Steve eventually got the upper hand, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't have known that a detonator had been set off and that a moment later, the building would be reduced to a pile of rock.

As the walls collapsed around you, you felt yourself being pulled out. The grip on your arm was painful. Your wound oozed and throbbed.

Your captor wordlessly stared you down as you found your footing. He tied your hands together and pulled on the rope, signaling the beginning of your walk.

Judging by how much the sun has set, you've been walking for a few hours. He doesn't seem to get tired, even with the weight of your body on his shoulder.

You've been silent the entire time. You don't have any fight left in you. It disappeared when you watched Steve's face fall, realizing that he'd lost. America's hero, Captain America, stared death in the face, and that's when you knew there was no winning.

When the sun has fully set, he moves you off his shoulder. The world flips, and blood rushes in your ears, flowing back to your arms and legs. When your vision clears, you see a large black SUV.

Hands push you into the backseat, landing with another pained groan. Your stab wound throbs more, and a fresh wave of blood flows down your bound arms.

Your captor sits in the front passenger seat beside the driver. They exchange a few words in Russian and the engine whirrs to life.

The car is nearly silent, and though you try to force yourself to stay awake, you know you've lost too much blood. Black specks creep into your vision, and you succumb to the warmth of sleep.

Cold. Everything is so cold. Shivers wrack your body, and no matter how tightly you squeeze yourself, you can't get warm.

Another wave of chills washes over you, and your eyes slowly open. You see unrelenting gray stone all around. No door, no window. You have no idea how they got you in here.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a panel in the wall opens, and there he is.

The Winter Soldier.

He stares at you, blue eyes piercing your mind. None of the stories you've heard say anything of mind-reading abilities, but the way his eyes roam over you sends doubt shooting through you.

"Get up," he says. The low timbre of his voice sends fear ripping through your veins. Despite the shooting pains in your body, you push yourself up to stand. The stab wound in your arm has been wrapped in some sort of dressing, but you had bled through it a long time ago. The once white bandages are brown and bloody.

You walk over to where he stands before collapsing. He forcefully grabs your arm and drags you through the damp hallway. You try to memorize the turns.

Left, left, right, left. But then your vision spins, and you lose track. You must make a noise because the Soldier huffs then mumbles something under his breath. He is the only constant; his masked face never fades from view. You want to speak, to say something to him, but the words die on your tongue. The Soldier is in his element. This is his home, there is nothing you can do or say that will stop him now.

Eventually, you reach a large room and come to a halting stop. The Soldier's demeanor changes. He straightens his spine and breathes deeply before stepping inside.

You feel bile rising in your throat when you see Alexander Pierce seated smugly in the center of the room. He is flanked by Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins.

SHIELD worked for years to keep him out of power once it was discovered that he was with Hydra. You thought he was dead until a few years ago when he relaunched his attacks. With his knowledge of the inner workings of SHIELD and his secret weapons, it was almost too easy.

Your heart pounds in your ears as the Soldier drags you to where Pierce sits.

He pushes you down onto the ground, landing with a thud. Pierce laughs, the sound echoing in the nearly empty room.

"Mission report," Pierce says, a hint of his amusement still present in his voice.

"Raid on SHIED safe house successful. Confirmed deaths of high ranking members of the SHIELD resistance movement." Pierce nods, and it takes everything in you not to vomit.

"And the Captain?" He presses, rubbing his jaw. Pierce's eyes rake over you, and you can practically feel him poking and prodding you. Though you're fully clothed, you feel naked in his presence.

"Confirmed death." The Soldier pulls something from his pocket and tosses it to Rumlow. The star patch from the center of Steve's uniform, torn and ragged at the edges.

Rumlow looses a laugh and hands it to Rollins.

"Good work, Soldier." You see the way the Soldier puffs up his chest at Pierce's words; he thrives off the praise.

"Who's the bitch?" Rollins asks, leering down at you. A new wave of nausea rolls through you.

"A prisoner, as requested." You feel the Soldier's eyes drop down to you. You know you look pathetic.

"The Captain's plaything," Pierce remarks. Plaything. The word is so dismissive of everything you and Steve have. Had . Since the first day you joined SHIELD all those years ago, he had been so sweet.

He trained you and ensured you were the strongest person in every room you walked into. Other than him, obviously. On harder days, he would hold you close and tell you how much he loved you. "I've never seen anyone so beautiful, sweetie. You mean the world to me."

Even when Hydra ambushed the government, and you were all sent to different parts of the country, Steve still made sure you knew how much he loved you.

Even when each Avenger fell at the hands of Hydra, he still made sure you were safe.

"What're we supposed to do with her?" Rollins asks, dragging you back to the present. The memories of Steve and a time before the pain were a welcome reprieve from your current reality.

"She knows the inner workings of the resistance. She will be instrumental. How was she on the journey here?" Pierce directs the question to the Soldier.

"Compliant," the Soldier replies coldly. Rumlow steps forward and crouches down in front of you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face in an almost caring way, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

"It's a shame she didn't put up more of a fight. I love to break them." Rollins chuckles and joins Rumlow in the crouched position. You try to avoid their eyes, but Rumlow grips your chin.

"You really want Steve Rogers' sloppy seconds?" Rollins jeers. A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and it seems to just spur him on. He reaches out a hand and swipes the tear from your cheek. Rollins brings his thumb to his lips and tastes your tears.

He groans and rolls his eyes. "So fucking sweet. I get it now." You wish you had the fire of fight in your gut; you wish you could feel the anguish of rage in your chest. But you don't. You just feel empty. Maybe that's what happens when you're truly open, when you've lost everything and have nothing left to live for.

"Bring her back to her cell. We'll begin her training tomorrow." The Soldier nods and pulls you away from Rumlow and Rollins. He gives you only a second to stand before he's dragging you back to your cell.

He throws you into the stone room, and you groan at the impact.

"Please," you whisper. Your voice is hoarse and rough from not being used. "Please. "

"I don't know what you're begging for," he says, towering over you. His hair falls in his face, and you think that in another life, he could have been beautiful. Maybe he could have even been kind.

"You don't have to–" He steps into the cell, and your words die on your lips.

"Begging is pointless. I will do to you what I want. Rumlow and Rollins will do to you what they want." You feel wetness on your face. You're crying. The Soldier steps away, and the panel shuts you inside the cell.

Only when you hear his heavy footsteps fade do you allow the sobs to overtake you. They wrack your body and tear you apart.

Eventually, when you've run out of tears, when you've exhausted everything you have, you fall asleep.

You dream of your first date with Steve; he'd taken you dancing. He'd held you close during the slow songs and swung you around during the fast ones. Laughter spilled from both of you and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

He'd pulled you out into the street after and kissed you like you were the only woman in the world. He told you that you completed him, you made his world go round. He told you that he would be with you always; you'd never be able to get rid of him.

You wake to the fading image of his beautiful smile and the sound of heavy footsteps, signaling the beginning of your new life of nightmares.

The next week is the most painful week of your life. Every day, the Soldier drags you from your room. You are given a tasteless bowl of food twice a day. Once before your training, and once after.

The training is nothing like what you'd done at SHIELD. The Soldier straps you into a large chair and places a rubber bite piece in your mouth. Each time he does it, you stare into his eyes and search for something, anything, but you never find it. Once he is sure you are secure in the chair, he steps back beside Rumlow, who oversees your 'training'.

Rumlow presses a few keys on a computer, and the torture begins. You're shocked at increasing levels, each more excruciating than the last. You only get a few seconds between the shocks before the next begins, but every second you're able to, you watch the grin on Rumlow's face grow. You swear the lust in his eyes increases each time you get shocked.

The number of shocks is never the same; you can't discern a pattern. You do know, though, that when Rumlow decides to stop the torment, your vision floats with black spots. Your head swims with confusion, and you don't have the strength to walk.

From what SHIELD knew about Hydra, you understand that this is how they created the Winter Soldier. They electrocuted him until all the human inside was gone. You're not sure why they would want to do that to you, but most days, you're too exhausted to think about it more.

What you do know, though, is that they are trying to break you.

A few moments later, the Soldier comes to collect you. He cuffs you and drags you through the hallways. It takes you all night to recover, and when you wake in the morning, your body aches, but your thoughts are mostly clear.

It's agonizing and never-ending. Every day for an entire week, you endure it. By the eighth day, you're a shell of the woman you used to be.

After finishing your food, you brace yourself for the sound of the Soldier's footsteps, but they never come. Instead, a different person comes up to your cell. The panel slides open and Rumlow sneers when he sees you.

"You look fucking disgusting. Get up." You shudder as you push yourself up off the floor. After he cuffs you, you follow Rumlow down the hallway, curling in on yourself every time someone passes. No one looks your way.

You take new turns down new hallways until you reach some form of a locker room. You fill with dread when you see the block of showers.

You look at Rumlow as tears brim in your eyes, but he just laughs. "Strip and shower. There's soap and shit on the shelf. Make it fast; we have places to be." You shake your head. You don't want him to be there. Your tears fall and wet your cheeks. They've already broken you down so much. Why bother humiliating you more? How does he expect you to undress when your hands are cuffed together?

When you don't start taking your clothes off, Rumlow takes matters into his own hands. His rough, calloused fingers tear at your tactical gear, tugging it from your shoulders. You cry out and try to step away, but his grip on you is tight.

"Rumlow," the Soldier's voice booms from the door. You spin around and find him stalking toward you. Rumlow groans and rubs his hand over his jaw in annoyance.

"They let you out of your cage?" He crows, continuing to tug at your clothes. The Soldier steps forward and grabs your arm, pulling you from Rumlow's grip.

"You weren't supposed to bring her. She's mine." You shiver at his possessiveness. Rumlow's eyes darken, but he doesn't fight with the Soldier.

"Be quick. Pierce wants her clean and dressed before seeing her." Rumlow leaves the bathroom, heavy boots thundering on the way out.

The Soldier turns and lets his eyes roam your body. Your shoulders are exposed, but nothing else has been revealed. His gaze is cold and calculating, not lustful like Rumlows had been.

"You need to bathe," he says plainly.

"I can't take off my clothes if my hands are restrained," you reply quietly. Over the past week, you've tried to appeal to the Soldier's humanity. You quickly found that he has none.

"I can't do that." His voice is stern. He isn't taking any risks with you.

"Then how am I supposed to take off my clothes?" You hate the way your voice wavers. The Soldier removes a blade from his belt and flips it through his metal fingers in response to your words.

You flinch away from him as he brings the blade toward you.

"Stop." His fingers grip you, and he cuts away your gear. You shut your eyes and hold back your tears at the sound of your clothes ripping from your body. A few times, his blade grazes your skin, but he never cuts you. The cold metal sends shivers through your body as you try to stay as still as possible to avoid being nicked. Before long, you're naked. The air is cold, and goosebumps erupt on your skin.

Without letting his eyes drop, the Soldier guides you to the shower. He turns on the water but doesn't give it time to warm before moving you under the stream.

The water is cold, and it stings your skin. The Soldier steps back and turns so you can have the illusion of privacy. Since your hands are cuffed in front of you, you can reach onto the shelf for the shampoo and soap.

It feels good to lather the product into your hair; it's been caked with dirt and blood since the day you'd been captured.

You find it more challenging to wash your body. The strain of contorting your body makes your stab wound ache. It takes you longer to scrape all the dirt and dried blood from your skin, but once you're done, you feel just slightly more human.

Once you can't prolong it any longer, you turn back toward the Soldier.

"I'm done," you say, shuddering. The Soldier doesn't respond; instead, he steps away and returns with a stack of clothes and a towel. He hands them to you, keeping his eyes on yours. "Thank you." The Soldier shakes his head and turns away.

After you dry off as much as you can, you slide on the underwear and pants he'd given you. They're too big, but you have to make due. You're not sure how you'll get the shirt on, though.

You shuffle toward the Soldier apprehensively, but it's your only choice. He turns when he notices your presence and furrows his brow. It's as if the scowl is permanently etched into his face. You feel the urge to press the lines with your thumb to soothe them. When the Soldier takes the shirt and bra from your fingers, you snap out of the trance.

He unlocks one of your hands, and you feel your fingers tingle as blood flows back to them. The Soldier wordlessly helps you into the undergarment and then the shirt. His actions are slow and careful; he makes sure not to touch you in the process.

"Pierce is expecting us," he says as he cuffs you again. They're tighter this time, but you don't say anything. You know he won't loosen them.

The Soldier walks you through the hallways, your bare feet slapping quietly on the linoleum floor. Eventually, you reach an elevator that takes you and the Soldier down to the facility's lowest level.

Alexander Pierce, Jack Rollins, and Brock Rumlow all turn to look at you when the steel doors slide open. Your steps falter, and the Soldier keeps pushing you forward.

"Put her in the chair so we can get started," Pierce says, regarding you with prying eyes.

The Soldier pushes you down into a metal chair and moves your restraints from handcuffs to the wrist cuffs on the arms of the chair. These cuffs are leather, but they are somehow tighter than the handcuffs.

Rollins stalks over to you and runs his hand along your jaw back into your damp hair.

"You gonna be a good girl for us?" He asks, squeezing your face with his calloused fingers. You whimper, and Rollins squeezes tighter.

"All right, all right, that's enough, Rollins. Let's get started." Rollins tucks your hair behind your ears before stepping to your side.

"So," Pierce begins. "You were part of the resistance. We understand that you were an integral member of SHIELD's forces, working quite closely with Captain Steve Rogers." You wait for him to ask a question, but it doesn't come. He's just spewing facts about you to you. You've been trained to withstand interrogation and torture techniques, but Pierce's tactic doesn't make sense.

You respond with silence and try to stare down Pierce.

"Do you know of other safehouses?"

You don't move. You don't even breathe. Pierce nods to Rollins, and before you can react, he brings his fist down on your face. Blood fills your mouth, and your lip stings. He hasn't broken anything, but you doubt he'll hold back.

"We know of the existence of ten SHIELD safe houses. Where are they?"

You spit the blood from your mouth. It lands with a splat on the floor.

Rollins replies by punching you again. This time, he clips your cheekbone, and the pain radiates through your skull.

The Soldier grumbles something to Pierce, but the older man brushes him off. You wonder if he's defending you.

"I thought you were gonna be a good girl for us," Rollins coos mockingly.

"I don't know," you croak. Pierce shakes his head, clearly unhappy with your response.

"Lying only will make this worse for you," he says, standing and walking over to you. He crouches down, so he's at eye level with you, and you try not to shrink away from him.

"I swear I don't know," you whimper pathetically. From the corner of your vision, you see Rollins roll out his neck.

"I know you think you're protecting your friends, but I promise you're not." Your hands have gone numb, and your legs tingle. You can't give up anything, no matter how uncomfortable you are.

"I don't think she's gonna talk, Pierce," Rumlow voices from a few feet away. You glance over at him and try not to cower away from his gaze.

When Hydra first took over, you saw the violence caused at the hands of Brock Rumlow. He performed nearly every public torturing session and even a few executions. You don't even want to imagine what he has in mind for you.

Rumlow and Rollins switch places, and your blood runs cold.

"Is Nick Fury alive?" Pierce asks, changing his line of questioning. You haven't seen Fury in a year; you've only heard whisperings of his existence.

"I don't know," you say, trying to feign confidence. Fury trained you better than this; Steve trained you better than this. When did you become so weak? Steve would be disappointed. You steal your face and school your emotions. You need to be better than this.

"She doesn't know," Pierce echoes. He nods to Rumlow, who raises his fist and brings it down on your stomach. You groan loudly and slump over as much as your restraints allow.

"When was the last time you heard from Nick Fury?" You shake your head and take deep breaths, but Rumlow doesn't give you a chance to recover before he grips your hair and yanks your head back.

"Answer the question."

"I don't know." Another blow to the stomach.

"You need to focus," Steve said, running his fingers through his hair. He shuffled around the ring, always so light on his feet despite his stature.

"I am focused, Steven; we just have different goals." You wiggled your eyebrows and watched that mountain of a man blush like a teenage boy. You took the opportunity to sweep his legs out from underneath him. With just a few moves, you had him pinned to the mat. Steve was much stronger than you, he could've gotten out from beneath you if he wanted to, but he didn't.

"Was this your goal, sweet girl?" He asked, panting. He couldn't help but let his eyes settle on your lips, but you didn't mind. Not one bit.

"Maybe," you teased. "And what're you gonna do about it?"

"Fucking bitch." Your jaw rattles with another punch.

It goes on for hours. Pierce asks a question, you don't have an answer, Rumlow or Rollins beats you. After a while, you become numb to their blows. All you can focus on is the calm gaze of the Soldier. His blue eyes stare into you, examining and picking you apart.

When the interrogation finally ends, Pierce dismisses Rumlow and Rollins. He turns back to you and forces you to lift your head to face him.

"You are strong but not strong enough to live through this. I want you safe and healthy. I'm not going to kill you. Next time, answer my questions. You will be pleased with the results." His voice makes nausea roll through you. His breath is hot on your face.

"I don't know anything," you whimper, blood dripping from your split lip.

"I will find out what you know whether you're conscious for it or not. I'm not a monster, but I'm not a good man. You won't like my methods." With those parting words, Pierce looks at the Soldier and nods. The Soldier hauls you out of the chair and doesn't even bother to cuff your hands. You're too weak to fight. The world spins around you as he drags you back to your cell.

He sets you down on the small cot you'd been given a few days ago and pushes your hair from your eyes.

The Soldier pulls a cloth from a pocket in his gear and wets it in the pitcher of water in the corner of your cell.

He wipes the blood from your face but never meets your eyes. He makes sure your wounds are as clean as they can be before laying you down and checking your stomach.

The way he touches you and treats you is cold and medical, but you try to twist it in your head to be kindness.

This could be kindness; his fingers could be gentle as they brush your skin. His eyes could be soft when he sees your wounds. He could hold you in his arms, warming you during the long cold nights.

He's so close to you now that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off his body. You glance into his eyes, and for the first time since the interrogation room, he stares back. Maybe there's something left in there, something human.

Conflict swims in his eyes, and you can see his jaw tensing.

"Thank you," you whisper. The Soldier's gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. He stands with a start and pushes away, exiting the cell and shutting the panel behind him.

Somehow, the man who has brought you to Hell is the one saving you from the flames.

The Soldier drags you to a new wing of the compound; it smells like sweat and the tang of blood. You enter a room that looks eerily similar to the training area in the Avengers compound. For a moment, you can hear their voices, cheering each other on as they spar. You can practically see Steve leaning against the wall, waiting for you to join him.

The vision is ripped away when the Soldier pushes you to the center of the ring. He unlocks your cuffs and steps back as you rub your wrists. You glance around, the only exit is blocked by the Soldier, and you doubt you'll be able to get past him. He must suspect your thoughts because he quickly types in a combination of numbers on a keypad, and the large door slides shut, locking automatically.

"You trained with SHIELD," he says, voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes," you reply quietly. You're not very stable on your feet, you haven't gotten good rest in days,

"You trained with Captain America." The Soldier spits out Steve's title as if it were poison on his tongue. Your eyes flit back to the spot where you'd imagined Steve to be, and your heart thuds in your chest.

"Yes." The Soldier grunts out something you don't understand, but you don't care. Your eyes are still fixed on the wall. You imagine Steve wearing his favorite white tee, a pair of sweatpants, and his baseball cap. The brim of his hat covers his eyes just enough to where he can get away with watching you in ways that were, in his words, "untoward."

Natasha brushed off her hands after taking down a young male agent. She helped him up and shoots you a wink, knowing you loved watching her spar. Steve stood beside you, his thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. He always needed to be touching you somehow, holding your hand, touching your leg; he needed the connection. "70 years on ice will do that to a guy," he liked to joke.

"We're up," you said, tugging him into the sparring ring. Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest while you attempted to wiggle your way out.

"What if we just went for a walk instead," Steve whispered against the top of your head. You laughed and slipped out of his grip.

"You're just saying that because you don't want me to beat your ass, Cap," you teased. Steve raised an eyebrow at your word choice, and before he could chastise you for it, you added, "I know, I know, language." That earned you a smile.

Steve realized you weren’t going to give up, so he joined you in the ring, and you began to dance around each other. For being so big, Steve was pretty graceful. He was good on his feet and was always so aware of what he was doing. Most people sparring with him never saw his blows coming, but you noticed his tell.

He smiled, big and bright. Every single time.

You don't see it coming. The Soldier's foot slams into your stomach, and you fall back. Hard. The wind is knocked out of you, and your head slams against the ground. It's padded slightly, but it still hurts. Your healing stab wound throbs, but you ignore it. You need to get up before he kicks you again.

The Soldier steps back and gives you a moment to stand. You feel his eyes on you the entire time. You wish you were dressed better; all you're wearing is the oversized shirt he'd given you after your last shower, a loose pair of tactical pants, and your worn combat boots.

"You're distracted," the Soldier says, taking off his mask and vest. "Didn't they teach you better, куколка (little doll)?" You don't know what the word means, but his eyes widen when he says it, it must've been an accident.

You don't reply. Instead, you take a few deep breaths. It's clear that you won't get to leave here until you fight the Soldier. You notice that he doesn't have any of his usual weapons strapped to him, so he must be planning on hand-to-hand only.

The Soldier begins to circle you, starting the familiar dance of sparring. He's about the same size as Steve is – was – so you know generally where all the best spots to go for are. You try to tell yourself this is the same as sparring with Steve, only now your opponent has a metal arm, and you don't know his tells.

He strikes first, and you attempt to block the blow with little success.

It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. He strikes, you try to block. Anytime you try to attack, he beats you to it, but you refuse to give up. As long as you're on your feet, he hasn't won. You're bleeding and bruised, but that faint image of Steve keeps you fighting.

The Soldier steps back and grabs a knife from his pile of gear. The blade flashes in the harsh light, and you flinch at the sight of it. He smiles, and the darkness of his expression shakes you. You watch as he tosses the knife on the ground, sending it skidding toward you. It comes to a stop at the toe of your boot.

Tentatively, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hand. You feel the Soldier's eyes searing into you, and when you meet his eye, you see the hunger. His tongue swipes along his lower lip, and you swallow dryly in response.

You move first, stepping toward him. He doesn't get a weapon for himself, so you have a slight advantage now. To get him with the knife, though, you have to be close. He'll have a better chance of hitting you.

It takes a lot of maneuvering, you take a lot of hits from him, but eventually, you feel the knife graze along the Soldier's flesh arm. The gash isn't deep, it's superficial, but it's something.

The Soldier flashes you a terrifying smile; it makes you freeze in your tracks. He uses the opening to bring you to the ground, straddling your waist and pressing you into the floor. The air rushes from your lungs, and for a moment, the Soldier is the only thing to exist in your world.

His cold blue eyes stare into you, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wets his lip again, and you track the movement. The hunger in his gaze grows as his metal fingers swipe at the blood around his wound.

With him so close, you can breathe him in. Despite living in the damp compound, the Soldier smells like pine trees, like a forest in spring.

"You're strong, куколка," he says, voice low. "But you need to be stronger if you're going to survive this."

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

please let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist must be 18+ General tags - please lmk if you do not want to be tagged for this series

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[extremelyblackandwhite]

she’s like the wind | steve kemp.

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

summary: there are things you shouldn’t keep bottled up. they’ll make you insane. 

warnings: smut (18+), dark themes, murder, emotional outburst, swearing, fresh spoilers

< masterlist

she’s taking my heart and she doesn't know what she's done. feel her breath on my face, her body close to me, can't look in her eyes, she's out of my league ...

Her eyes met his the moment those words left his lips. Y/N couldn’t particularly tell if he was merely bluffing or if he mean them, that smirk of his making it impossible to distinguish between the two. His hand softly on hers twirled her around, holding her back flush against his chest as his hips softly swayed to the changing melody on the vinyl player. His lips traced patterns from her jaw to her shoulder, the scent of her skin his biggest drug. There she was, all his, in those arms of his. Maybe that silly little myth about Zeus separating soulmates was correct because here she was; just as crazy as he was. She would eventually accept him, she was just being difficult. Happily for her, he enjoyed the chase as much as he enjoyed her. 

The song shifted, Cry to Me echoing in the living room as his hands climbed up her arm, settling his hands on her shoulder as well as his chin. She always smelled so beautifully, like coffee and white magnolias, his perfect, perfect girl. Her hand was flat against his chest, caressing up to his cheek where her fingers rubbed the small stubble there.

      - Stop fighting me. - his hips softly swayed with hers, his hand meeting hers to twirl her around so he could see her face. - We’re good together, baby.

       - We’re not together. - her words teased him, turned him on even. - It’s more of an alliance. 

       - Then why is my cum dried in your thighs? - his hand lowered down, his fingers almost ghostly touching the spots of her inner thighs. - You know no one is gonna love you like I do, baby. 

       - You don’t love me, you’re obsessed. 

       - I’m both, baby. No one is gonna do for you what I would do for you. I’ll kill for you, baby. Anyone you want. We’ll fucking rip his heart out if you want, baby. Anything. 

Steve was not a normal person, he lacked empathy, that she was sure of. He didn’t care about those he had killed and he wasn’t going to stop. If he was lacking empathy, then those words couldn’t possibly be true. She knew that much, but also enjoyed the idea of it. The modern Bonnie and Clyde. Besides she liked love but she was merely his obsession until he found something else to obsess about. She had been someone’s obsession once and then she was thrown away, traded by someone new. She was not gonna be traded again. Her hand lowered from his face, that glassy look Steve had yet to learn to read. 

Like a temptress or a femme fatale from a noir, she sauntered away and towards the table to grab her wine glass. She looked over at him before taking a sip of the red liquid and walking away, leaving him to smirk at her behaviour. Such a brat. He chuckled to himself, walking to the table himself to take the last gulp of his wine and bring the cutlery and plates back to the kitchen. His eyes moved over to her ex-husband’s body. Idiot, he would have his fun if he could but he still needed to dispose of him. Shame.

He turned on the tap, listening to the songs still playing until the bell echoed in the house. He turned off the tap, his hand moving to open the lower drawer under the oven to grab a gun. His eyes were void of any emotion as he hide it under his shirt and made his way towards the door. There was a woman outside, short with curly ginger hair. Had his dumb bunny called someone on him?

Like a mask, he slipped into his soft spoken persona, the surgeon who’d gotten all those girls to trust him as he opened the door. She had to be around the same age as his Y/N, maybe slightly younger, dressed in casual clothing. 

     - Where is she?! - she stepped pass the boundary of his home.

     - Excuse me? - he put himself in front of her. 

     - Y/N! She’s been talking non stop about coming here so where is she? Where is my fiancé?

     - I think you need to calm down. Y/N’s been here for the past days so I would suggest you go find him somewhere else. - he extended his arm to keep her apart from him. 

     - Matt always said she was crazy! - she attempted to surround him; however those words stroke a chord in him. - I know she did something, he just wouldn’t go missing. 

     - You’re not gonna come into my home and attack my girlfriend. I suggest you leave, right now. - his hand tightened around the gun behind him. 

     - SHE’S CRAZY! WHERE’S MY FIANCÉ?

Steve prepared to take the gun from behind his shirt only to watch the ginger girl’s eyes turn glassy, lifeless. His eyes watched hers for a while until her muscles grew weak and she fell to the ground, leaving him to see his bunny with a syringe in hand and a look that was much too familiar to him. A look of indifference as she mumbled that she was not crazy. She dropped the syringe to the floor, kicking it away before tucking her hair behind her ear. 

     - Could’ve given me a hand earlier, baby. 

     - I was trying to think of how I could make it look like a suicide. - she wiped her hands on her dress. - Why did you even open the door?

     - Would’ve looked more suspicious if I hadn’t, baby. - he kicked the ginger girl on the ground ever so slightly but she remained motionless. - Now we have three bodies and I hate to point it out baby, but two of them were your fault. 

      - We need to get rid of them. - she put her hand under her chin. - How did you kill Matt anyway?

      - Same way you just killed this girl right now.

      - She killed him and then felt guilty so she came back and killed herself as well. She’s always been a bit ... volatile ... so there won’t be anyone asking any pesky questions. - she walked around in a circle. - We’ll dump them where Matt used to go hunting and leave them there. 

     - Put her in the car boot and I’ll go grab Matt. We’ll figure out what to do with Ann when we return. 

She nodded, running outside to grab one of the garden covers to wrap the woman she had just killed with. The last thing she needed were for any fibers to get stuck on her and start a murder investigation. Fun of Martha to call her crazy when she’s the one who slept with her husband after she had willingly given her a position in her laboratory. She was not crazy, she always did what was expected of a “good wife”. She’d even cooked home made meals every night even when she had woken up at 4AM to go to work. She had been the best wife someone could be and she was not sorry. She was not crazy and she was definetely not the dumb little wife. After all the person dead and wrapped in the boot of his car was Martha and not her. 

She shut the boot and walked to the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel. Her fingers tapped to the beat of her heart, the silence enervating her and making her almost become breathless. She didn’t notice how her jaw was clenched until Steve joined her in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t say anything instead driving in full silence and stopping by the side of the forest. She always hated hunting. Fitting he’d end up here, after all he’d lied to her so many nights saying that he was out hunting. 

Steve helped her dump them deep into the woods, their bodies laid in a position which would be liable enough for the police or whoever found them to consider it just another lover’s spat. Besides, with the night, the animals were sure to get to them before anything and she always had an alibi. An unreliable alibi, but an alibi nonetheless. Her feet crackled the autumn leaves as she stared at him, not an once of sadness but merely regret for all that she had lost while trying to love him, to have the have it all myth. A strained breathe escaped her mouth as she noticed the dim afternoon light reflect off the stone of the ring in Martha’s finger. Her engagement ring, the engagement ring he’d bought her and then taken back only to give to her mistress. 

Whatever unresolved guilt feelings were manifesting in her head were replaced with red. There was no better way to explain it, and it was ready to explode. She ran from the crime scene, entering the car to punch the wheel while Steve followed in her footsteps. 

    - Baby, c’mon, no need to feel that guilty. 

    - I DID EVERYTHING AND FOR WHAT?! - so everything seemed to explode, in what was a mix of years and years of repressed emotions and feelings. Her hands gripped at the wheel. - FOR HIM TO GIVE MY ENGAGEMENT RING TO SOMEONE WHO I TOOK PITY ON. 

    - They’re dead, baby. - he moved to place his hand over hers. 

    - WHY DIDN’T HE LOVE ME?! 

    - Why does that matter? I love you. 

    - YOU DON’T LOVE ME! YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH ME. - she turned on the car engine. - The moment I stop being a novelty, you’ll kill me!

The two were silent as she drove through small roads and other trails to make their path unpredictable and hard to trace, although in a regular road it would be impossible to do so. The two remained in silence as they reached home, with Y/N locking herself in the main room, wrapped in the duvet while Steve walked up to the kitchen. She could be crazier, he thought to himself, but right now she did have her reasons to not trust him. He sighed, walking up to the door and knocking. 

     - My love, c’mon, let’s talk. - he knocked once more. - It is very rude to lock yourself in my bedroom and not allow me in. 

He knocked yet again, waiting she’d get tired and open the door which she eventually did. She answered the door wrapped in his duvet, her dress discarded somewhere in the room and puffy eyes from crying. He had to admit it was nice knowing she had some feelings, maybe it could make up for those he didn’t have. 

     - What do you want?

     - Couples should never go to bed angry, baby. Isn’t that psychology 101?

     - I’m a neuroscientist, not a psychologist. - she sat in the bed, pulling the duvet off her to remain only in her underwear. - Besides, we are not a couple.

      - One day you’re gonna stop resisting me. - he sat in front of her, his hand caressing her face. - And you will realise that I can give you everything you want. 

She moved her arms towards him, loosely wrapped around as her lips met his. He did love being kissed by her. He moved to hold her tightly against him, his kisses growing in intensity as he laid her down. His kisses lowered down to her shoulder, his teeth pulling the strap of her bra down to kiss down her shoulder and torso up to her navel when he looked up into her eyes before kissing down to her lower abdomen and the top of her underwear. 

     - Steve ... - she pulled to kiss him as he lowered down the underwear. - Please. 

     - Not even gonna let me worship up, baby?

     - Stop teasing. - she pouted as he undid his belt and pulled down her trousers and underwear. 

She kissed down his jaw and to his neck, leaving her marks there as he thrusted into her. He was sure this was going to always be heaven, feeling her warm and tight around him, like his perfect little cock slut. He leaned to kiss her as his hands wrapped around her hips to ensure he was in control, sliding in and out of her in a slow, sensual manner. 

     - Such a pretty girl for me, baby. - he growled as he continued with his teasing slow pace. - So fucking good. 

Her arm wrapped around his back, her mouth agape and her breasts flushed against his chest, her bare pebbled nipples rubbing against the material of his shirt. Fuck, maybe he was starting to get into her head but she didn’t care anymore. He continued as long as he could bare with that almost burning slow movement until he eventually lost control and returned to his favourite pace, his skin bruising hers as he thrusted in and out of her.

     - You like that, baby? You like feeling me even after in not there? - he growled as he bite her shoulder. - My little perfect, perfect girl. 

She buried her head onto the soft pillow as he fucked her, his frustrations about her not wanting to be his clear and evident as he ensured his hands would be bruised on her, her skin would be bruised from him. She could feel him, the texture of his delicious cock marked on her walls. Fuck. 

     - Steve, fuck! - her nails dug onto his skin as his thrusts grew more erratic until he came inside of her.

     - Fuck, fucking take it. - his movements were sloppy until he stopped. His forehead rested against hers as his thumb rubbed her bottom lip. - Baby, you’re too good at this. 

     - I want a nice, expensive home in the suburbs with a pool in the back garden. 

     - Whatever you want, baby. - he smiled, finally trapping his bunny. - Whatever you want. 

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

I leave you a moodboard for Hades! reader 😘 💖

Here you go

This moodboard is beautiful as fuck. I have never had anyone make something for me and I am so very flattered and grateful for this gift. Thank you, darling. I love you to bits. Here, have a little sneak peek at the first prince. Enjoy!

Hades x Wrath

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Warnings: some violence and coarse language

Word Count: 706

You huffed as you leaned back on the leather seats, the luxury you naturally surrounded yourself with didn’t provide their usual comfort for you. You watched the dreadful scenery pass outside the window with a look of sheer boredom. It was the 40s and the was waging on in full force. Herds of men traipsed around in uniform and plenty more were lining up to serve their country. You could practically smell the optimism in the dank air of Brooklyn. You rolled your eyes.

It was all so repetitive.

Immortality was repetitive. Humans were repetitive. Like all the other gods, you would often find your continuous existence tedious. You would find yourself trying to look for some sort of excitement or novelty. You sighed. You suppose you should be grateful for your nephew Ares’ wars. War always made people desperate in their needs and desires. The starving needed food. The displaced needed shelter. The rich wanted their contraband. The soldiers wanted to win and go home. Both sides wanted the death of their enemies. You were the god of death and wealth.

Business was booming.

It was because of the mortals’ penchant for destruction and greed that led you to set up shop on the surface. People were easy to please and even easier to manipulate. You need only to grant them their greatest desires and they would gladly sign over their souls. And so your reputation was born in the mortal realm. They called you the mafia. They called you the syndicate. They called you Hades.

You smirked as you smoothed down your pencil skirt, brushing away a speck of dirt from your stockings. If only they knew how spot on they were. Then again their naivety was part of the entertainment. Much better than the cursed souls that floated around aimlessly in the Underworld. Still, you were bored.

Truth be told, you had another reason why you set up a presence in this realm. Your princes. Seven princes that the Fates promised you amidst your outrage of being condemned to rule over the bowels of the Earth by your brother Zeus. Your eyes narrowed as you seethed at the memory from lifetimes ago. The Fates had tempered your rage, explained that this was destiny at work and that with this path came seven mates to rule at your side.

But gods were not known to be patient.

“Stop the car,” you said, the honeyed tone of your voice still holding such a command.

You swung your legs out as you exited, your heels clicking against the broken concrete. You steeled your expression and straightened your back as you walked with purpose toward the entrance of the building, one of many you kept all across the realm to house your operations. Since you didn’t have your princes yet, you had to employ lower level demons to manage business but they tended to get overexcited.

Just as you were about to step through the front doors, a noise from the side alley drew your attention and an unusual pull made you change your course toward it. The noise of scuffling grew louder as you approached, fists hitting skin became apparent alongside angry snarling and what oddly sounded like wheezing. As you turned the corner and the full scene was revealed to you, your breath hitched and every other sound was muffled by the loud thumping of your heart.

There in the corner of the dam dirty alley was a scrawny man with a bloody lip and his fists up against two of your demon underlings. His breathing was labored and by physique alone he was clearly outmatched nevermind outnumbered, but that didn’t seem to discourage the stubborn jut of his chin or the blazing defiance in his eyes. He looked so frail and his features were gentle, but you could practically taste the rage rolling off him.

He was beautiful.

There was that tug again. What initially felt like a flimsy string now felt thicker. More solid. Undoubtedly tied to this puzzling mortal. Your eyes widened as you recognized the truth and your heart sped up once more.

He was yours.

“I can do this all day,” your prince huffed.

No, he most certainly can not!

[gotnofucks]

Meet the Parents

Based on the request: Imagine Peter Parker trying to ask Steve and Bucky if it’s okay to take their daughter on a date. He would be shaking in his boots. 

Pairing: Stucky x Reader, Peter x Reader

Summary: You are daddies’ little girl, and Peter wants to take you out.

Words: 1.2k

Warning: incest (kinda? And only implied), daddy kink, 18+ ONLY. 

A/N: It was a Peter request, trust me to turn it into Stucky 

He had May choose him an outfit. Something that doesn’t scream trying too hard, but not something too lousy either. Peter was head over hells for you. Ever since you’d sat by him in Physics class, he knew he’d never be the same again. There was this instant connection, this electricity that cackled down his spine when you laughed with him.

You’d been best friends for a while, but now Peter wanted to be more. He wanted to take you out to coffee where you could share a dessert and hold hands. He wanted to take you dancing and put his coat over you when you got cold. He wanted to walk you to your door with a kiss of promise to pick you up in the morning. He wanted his phone’s wallpaper to be a picture of you both cuddling.

But there was this one obstacle that made his palms sweat. Peter knew you were very close to your dads, he’d seen them coming to the college campus to pick you up. You were well into your 20s and yet they doted over you like you were 5. Anytime Peter thought he’d ask you out, an image of Steve and Bucky towering over him made his heart beat faster.

After months of deliberation and waiting, he’d finally decided to do it. He was wearing his best outfit, he got flowers and had given himself a pep talk in front of the mirror. He’s going to drive to your home, ask your dads if he can take out their little girl and be a gentleman.

He may have stood outside the door for few minutes too much, but he finally rang the bell. The door opened so fast he wondered if the other person was listening in, waiting. Piercing blue eyes, like those that Zeus must have when he’s about to rain hell on someone, fixed on him.

“Parker” Bucky said, an eyebrow raised in amusement as Peter shuffled.

“Mr. Barnes” He greeted, offering him a hand that Bucky smirked at before taking in his own. Peter had to suppress a wince at the firm grip, and he resisted the urge to massage his fingers after he let go. Bucky beckoned him inside and Peter followed, marveling at the beautiful house. He smiled at your pictures on the wall, mostly smiling with your dads on either side of you.

“You are two minutes late.” Said a voice that broke Peter away from staring at your pictures. Steve was standing against the table, hands on his waist. When he stood like this, shoulder to shoulder with his husband who was just as big, Peter was reminded of how you said they’d been in army and right now, he felt like the enemy.

“Mr. Rogers, sir.” Peter said, shaking Steve’s hand which left his already bruised hand aching even worse.

“Dad, please. Stop.” You said, coming down from the stairs. You looked gorgeous, even though you’d dressed only casually for the movies. It was a bit ridiculous to be doing this at this age, but Peter knew to win you over, he needed to get on you fathers’ good side.

“A man who can’t be on time cannot be trusted.” Steve said and Peter looked down, cursing himself for lingering on the doorway too long. You huffed, smacking Steve on his chest with a grumbled ‘be nice’ that had Peter smiling. He shyly gave you the flowers he got and you took them, taking a huge whiff.

“I’m gonna put them in a vase and then we’ll leave.” You said, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky who were glaring a hole in Peter’s head.

“So, what are your intensions towards our girl?” Steve asked, looking very much the Captain he was.

“Entirely honorable sir.” Peter promised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re going to movies and then dinner.”

Bucky chuckled sarcastically, walking around Peter as if examining him.

“We know what happens in a dark movie hall. You gonna leave a seat in the middle.” Bucky ordered and Peter opened his mouth in shock. He could hear your angry shouting from the kitchen from where you appeared with a scrunched nose.

“Dads, enough. Ease up.” You snap, glowering at their hazing. Steve rolled his eyes, sharing an exasperated look with Bucky as if you were the one being ridiculous. When you didn’t budge, they sighed, relaxing their arms.

“You gonna bring her back before 11. She doesn’t like her food too spicy and she hates drinking –”

“– Right enough, we’re going. I can tell my preferences for myself, thank you very much. Come, Peter.” You hastily said, cutting off Bucky. Peter nodded, barely having time to say goodbye to your dad as you ushered him towards the front door.

“Should I shake their hand?” Peter whispered when you were almost out.

“Do you want them to break your hand? Hurry!” You hiss back. You were right behind him, scurrying to his car when the clearing of a throat stopped you. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky and Steve with your jacket.

“You wanna catch a cold?” Steve asked, holding it out. Peter was sitting in his car, looking as you sheepishly smiled and stepped back inside, letting Steve slip the jacket over you. Bucky zipped it up for you, holding your chin with his thumb and finger gently.

“You call me the moment you think something is going wrong. He touches you anyway you don’t want him to, I’ll show up and beat his ass.” He assured you and you hugged him, burying your head in his chest and smelling his soothing scent.

“I know how to protect myself. You got nothing to worry about, I am your baby girl.” You mumbled and Bucky held you tighter.

“Damn right you are our baby girl” He said, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Sweetie” Steve said, pulling you away from Bucky and into him. “You love your daddies, don’t you?”

You looked into his blue eyes, biting your lip at the authority and love there.

“Yes daddy, I love you both. This is a one time thing, I promise.” You said and felt them both relax. They really could deny you nothing, not even some other dick.

“He can never give you what we can.” Bucky said sulkily. He had a more difficult time coming around to this idea than Steve did, and you took his hand in yours, gently squeezing.

“I know daddy, I just wanna try something else. But I’ll always come home to you. You both are my life.” You told him and he squeezed your hand in return.

“We’ll keep the bed warm for you. It won’t feel the same.”

You almost wanted to cancel the date, but Peter was so sweet. And you needed a few hours away from both of them and their company. Every night you’d spent in their arms and under them in their bed, you have been in heaven. You just needed a night away where you could be a normal girl who wasn’t sleeping with her adopted fathers.

“A few hours, and I’ll be yours again.” You said softly and Steve stroked your cheek.

“You’ll always be ours” He corrected, and you turned your back to them and joined Peter in his car.

Peter glanced at you as you buckled your belt, nervously taking your hand in his after he started the car.

“They really love you” He commented, sneaking soft looks at you as he drove.

“Yes, they really do.” You agreed, watching the landscape pass you.          

[sergeantxrogers]

| my erato |

Summary: You’re Steve’s favorite thing to paint. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Um, none really, just some mentions of Greek mythology and some fluff

______________________

It was no secret that Steve liked to draw. He was good at it. Brilliant, even. You knew this, knew the way his fingers would itch for a pencil or pen and any scrap of paper he could find whenever he was stressed out, upset, in need of distraction.

You liked- no, you loved- watching him draw his friends: blue eyes darting over Bucky or Natasha’s features, before rubbing a finger over the paper to smudge harsh lines; pencils short and stubby from constant use, notebooks and sketchbooks overflowing with art and stray pieces of paper shoved between the pages; the frustrated tick of his left eyebrow when he thought he messed something up and the determined lines creasing between his brows when he paid attention to detail.

Everyone knew Steve liked to draw, it was a given. However, not many knew Steve liked to paint. If the pen was mightier than the sword, then Steve’s paintbrush was Zeus almighty himself. Watercolor, acrylics, oils, whatever it was, he was good at it. 

Where everybody else’s rooms had one extra door besides the entrance, for the bathroom, Steve’s room had two. The other one, identical to the bathroom door next to it, was his special room. One giant window on the ceiling, spanning across almost the entirety of it, four easels in each corner of the room, half finished works resting on each of them at all times, finished works hanging on the walls or resting on the floor against them. 

When Steve showed you the room for the first time since he decided you were trustworthy enough to talk to (after all, after the H.Y.D.R.A infiltration, S.H.I.E.L.D agents were nothing if not skepticized. However, after a careful year of getting to know you, and taking into consideration the fact that you risked your life and job to help him get to Bucky, he realized you weren’t half bad), the first thing you noticed was the smell: a strong rush of paint varnish to your nostrils, and soap. The second thing you noticed were the dust particles in the air, illuminated by the late afternoon sun bleeding through the ceiling. 

The next thing you had noticed, after turning in your place to take in each art piece, was Steve’s expression. It was borderline unreadable, somewhere between embarrassed, afraid, expectant. He wanted to know what you thought. No matter how many compliments he would get on his drawings, these paintings were a different story. These paintings had never left this room, and had never been seen by eyes other than his. It was into these very paintings that Steve poured every emotion threatening to make him seem weak in front of others. 

He came into this room and painted an 18x24 watercolor of the view he had from his window in Brooklyn as a small kid, as well as he could remember it, after the attack on New York in 2012- when he finally rested and his mind caught up with his body and the realization that he was lost, emotionally and physically, finally settled into his bones. 

A very large 24x30 oil painting was the product of him seeing Bucky again after decades, only to lose him again. It was a painting of Bucky himself, smiling his boyish, pre-war smile he always directed at Steve when he fucked some shit up and needed help. And it was the first painting your eyes caught when you walked in. Steve had later told you it took months to dry, because, in his anger and desperation, he had forgotten to add turpentine to the paint. 

You supported Steve in everything he did. You were by his side during the Accords, firm in your belief that signing them was a bad idea. You were by his side when he took Bucky to Wakanda to put him under ice again, knowing how hard it was for him to see. He had begged you to come with him to Peggy Carter’s funeral, and even if you were hesitant at first (his ex-grandma-girlfriend-lady? Weird, Steve.) you went in the end to hold his hand, literally and figuratively, throughout it. 

There was one thing, though, you would never do for him. 

“Steve, I am not gonna sit in front of you for hours just so you can pai-”

“C’mon, please!” he begged you, eyes wide and hands clasped together. The man was so dramatic, you were surprised he hadn’t dropped to his knees in front of you yet.

“No, I’ve told you a hundred times already, I won’t do it,” you huffed, and Steve, quite literally, fell to his knees, fingers grasping your shirt. 

Oh, yeah, there it is.

“Pleeeeeaaase,” he pressed, pouting, and you almost laughed at how ridiculous the whole situation must’ve looked. Captain America, 220 pounds of pure, American-made muscle and supersoldier serum, on his knees in front of you pouting like a 6 year old kid begging for a new toy. 

Tugging at his forearms in an attempt to lift him up, and grandly failing to do so, you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Steve...” you mumbled, and he looked up at you expectantly.

“You gotta stop asking me to model for you, I don’t wanna do it. End of story.”

Steve’s nose scrunched in disappointment and he sighed, dropping his body to lay on the carpeted floor of your room. 

“You’re no fun, ya know that?” he whined. You just nodded, humming quietly in acknowledgement as you stepped over him to head to the kitchen. 

“Why won’t you do it, though? I don’t get it,” Steve wondered out loud, a bit louder so his voice travelled through to reach you. Head shoved deep in the fridge, looking for that juice you were sure you bought the other day, you almost rolled your eyes. 

“What does it matter to you anyways, Rogers?” you shouted from inside the fridge, lips pursing in disappointment when you couldn’t find the juice. Man, that was the expensive kind. 

Shutting the door and turning, you almost had a heart attack when you were met face to face with Steve. Well... more like face to chest. Six foot two bastard. 

“Lookin’ for your juice?” he asked with a knowing smile, and you narrowed your eyes at him, your own smile creeping up on you.

“Yeah...” you said hesitantly.

“Yeah, I drank it. It was good,” he shrugged.

Your mouth fell open as you stared at him in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or hit him. Steve, on the other hand, jutted his chin towards the refrigerator.

“Should buy it more often.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but your jaw dropped even more, but he didn’t notice. Instead, he waved it off as he asked another question.

“What do ya mean, what’s it matter to me?”

Deciding the juice incident would be handled later, you shrugged at him and crossed your arms. 

“I dunno, you have a lot of things to paint. And beautiful people, too. I know I’d much rather paint Nat than myself-”

“No,” he cut you off sharply. 

“First off, you know I don’t want people seeing them. And, what on Earth do you mean by beautiful people? You don’t consider yourself one of them?” he questioned, seemingly baffled by your statement. 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your mouth at his words, and you saw the visible confusion in the furrow of his brows and the twitch of his mouth downwards.

“Not really, no,” you said quietly, shaking your head. 

Steve went silent for a moment, staring at you with an unreadable expression, and you had started to become uncomfortable under his gaze until he spoke again. 

“You’re beautiful to me, though.”

A blush rushed up your neck to your cheeks, breath stopping as you made eye contact with him. You opened your mouth to reply, but soon closed it when you realized you had no idea what to say. He took a step forward, and you tried searching his eyes for any sign of a joke, but you couldn’t find it.

“I look at your eyes,” he started, and he sounded as if he was talking aloud to himself, “and I want to paint the stars. I see you smile, and hear you laugh, and I need to paint the sun. As bright and as blinding as I can. You touch me, and I go and paint the beach. With waves. Lots of ‘em. And they’re deep, oh man are they deep...” 

With each word, he stepped closer to you, and without either of you realizing, his hands were cupping your face and you had stopped breathing a long time ago and Steve felt like he had just run a marathon, heart beating abnormally fast. 

Thumb stroking your cheek, then travelling down to your lips, he ghosted it over them before whispering, again, to himself.

“So beautiful...”

All his words had caused tears to prick your eyes and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he said them, or the way he was closer than he allowed himself to be before while he said them, or maybe it was the fact that the one person whose opinion and well-being you truly cared about thought the world of you. Maybe it was all of it, you didn’t know, but you knew Steve’s gentle fingers were brushing the tears away as they fell, and you brought your hands up to hold his wrists.

“Steve,” you whispered, almost inaudibly, and you were sure that, had it not been for his supersoldier hearing, he wouldn’t have caught it at all. You felt your wet lashes sticking together as you looked up at him. 

Your mind spun. 

Steve leaned in.

Your eyes closed.

His breath hitched.

__________

It had been said, Apollo’s words to Icarus were:

“Seeing you come to me should be catharsis but instead it takes on the color of murder.

It is because you are the mortal one between us, More beautiful in your emotion, easier to kill.

All that energy inside you as quickly perishable as the entire lifespan of a butterfly.

Maybe this was why I wanted you, I had grown cold with responsibility for the sun.

Destruction was not what I intended for you But this is what happens to all who follow in my wake.

Ask the sunflower who she used to be, She will tell you she was the mortal who fell in love with me.

This was the difference between ichor and iron. The universe made you closer to itself than us.

The water will take better care of you than me, Let me melt your wings, you belong to the sea.

Now a stillness neither of us knew before. Now a softness no one can answer for.”

Falling into Steve was much like falling into unknown, heavy waters, rich with darkness and pressing, down, down, down, until you heard, saw, felt, nothing but him. In the back of your mind, you had a feeling, an inkling, this wouldn’t go as planned. None of it ever does. But you let loose. You let the tide take you in. You let him melt your wings, for it was catharsis for you.

If Steve was the golden Apollo, God of Art, then you were, surely, Icarus, who flew too close to him.

__________

“Let me paint you. Be my muse, and I’ll cherish you, until the end of time,” he whispered against your lips, and you sighed through your nose.

“Please,” he continued, “let me show you how wonderful you are to me.”

And so, you complied, nodding once, shortly, before you regretted it, but the smile that graced Steve’s face was worth it.

__________

It was six months. Six months after the kiss, and the first painting. You cried when you saw it, colors and lines blending, not knowing where they began and ended, curves and angles and harsh shadows and soft highlights. Steve had painted you the way he saw you, in hopes of making you see yourself that way too. Like an angel, he had said. My angel.

Six months, and five paintings later, you had convinced him to show the rest of the team. It had taken a lot... like, a lot. Finally, after negotiating the fact that you had, in fact, become his main model, he decided it was only fair to your wishes. 

He held the first painting in slightly trembling hands, standing in the middle of his sun-drowned, varnish drenched room of solitude and solace, and you couldn’t help admiring the glow the sun seemed to give him, surrounding him from all sides, illuminating all the best parts of him. You smiled. Oh, Apollo, my Apollo.

Holding your hand out to him, you gave him a comforting smile.

“You ready?”

Steve looked at you over his shoulder, then glanced back to his painting, before nodding slowly and blowing out a loud breath.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” he remarked, and grabbed ahold of your hand, looking for stability in it from his own shaky one.

“Steve, they’ll love it. I promise,” you assured him softly, raising your other hand to brush the hair from his forehead, and he gave you a small half-smile. 

“Yeah, it's just... this is the one thing I didn’t need to worry about getting ruined, or... or tainted, by bad memories, or bad people.”

Nodding, you brought your arms around his neck, and his own went around your waist. Planting a kiss to his neck, you muttered against his skin.

“I know, my love, I know. But I promise nothing bad will happen.”

You felt him nod, and you pulled away, reaching for his hand again.

“Shall we, my good sir?” you said playfully, in attempt to lighten the mood, and he laughed softly. Placing a kiss to your forehead, he stood above you, and just looked at you. For a while. A few moments. Just silence, and smiles on both your faces.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

[roger-that-cap]

doubt comes in

orpheus!bucky barnes x fem!eurydice!reader

summary: a retelling of orpheus and eurydice for an extremely late entry for a mythology challenge!!

warnings: uh- yeah i was not playing with this myth lol… fluffy beginning, uh, that’s all imma say about that and ALSO i haven’t edited this so haha, i am running on fumes but had to post this jeez 

word count: 11.3k good god

There were gods that were unexplainably strong. There were some that could bend fire and metal to their will, some that could string up love and cast it upon others, and others that knew more of war and how to win more than they even knew themselves. Others were the faces of glory, like Zeus and Hera and the sun god Apollo and so many others. There were many that were worshipped by humans every day of every week, and others that were forgotten until they were desperately needed. There were some that lived immortal lives and demanded respect from humans and gods alike, and then there were the ones invested in their art, in themselves, in the beauty of life itself.

That was Bucky. He was so immersed in song, in the gift that he had inherited from his mother, Calliope, that it was all he could think about. It was what made him different, it was what made him stand out from the boys that he grew up with that were just plain old strong. He had a talent, he had a mother that was a myth and a legend alike, and he had a lyre. He had a lyre, a lute, his voice, and a bit of speed, and that was all that he would ever need in life. That, and a pretty landscape to look at while he strummed his golden strings. But that was all he ever thought he would need- which was why he was knocked right off of his planted feet when he saw you walk by.

You were a human. You were a beautiful girl, probably the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his entire life. He had met goddesses and nymphs and princesses alike, but never had he met someone who had such a sweet face, such a gentle aura, and even more, a beautiful voice. You had only said a few words to someone else that were delivered with a gentle smile, but he could have sworn that your words were a melody. Before he knew it, your entire being was stamped into his mind, and he knew that he would never be able to forget you.

It was by complete chance that the next day, he decided to wallow in his sadness by a fountain in public, strumming his lyre too quietly for anyone else to hear. Anyone who knew him knew that he was devastatingly off. And coincidentally, the only ones who truly did know Bucky were Steve and Sam, two forest nymphs that had been his best friends since he taught them the ways of the lute years and years ago. They were sitting by him in silence on the marbled fountain, waiting next to him for the second shoe that they doubted would ever drop. But then, like Bucky was a sunflower following the sun itself, his back straightened, his head perked up, and his mouth dropped, his eyes wide and swirling with admiration as he watched you- the same human woman he was enamoured with- walk through the square again, a woven basket full of fresh fruits on your arm and your lilac dress swishing in the wind.

“No way,” he heard Sam mutter, and Steve poked his side.

“You were always such a doubter,” Steve mumbled, but the smile on his face was audible through his tone. “There she is, in the flesh.”

Bucky could hardly hear anything but the soft melody stirring up in his mind, louder than his racing heart, and just as tender as the feelings swirling inside of him. He saw you wave to the older woman you were talking to and then start to walk away, and he knew that he couldn’t let you go, not when the Fates so obviously gave him a second chance. Without a second thought, he slid off of the fountain, leaving his friends and his lyre, striding towards you with the brightest smile, trying to cover the fact that he was nervous.

His clumsy feet were carrying him a little too quickly, and he could hear the snickers of Steve and Sam from behind him. He craned his head backwards to look at them and laugh too, but he tripped over his own left foot, barreling right into you and knocking you flat onto the ground. His half immortal heart beat heavy and hard in his chest as he watched you wince under him. He scrambled up, cheeks flushed and hand shaking as he watched you sit up and brush the dirt off of your dress. He was looking down at you with a look that he prayed wasn’t as desperate as he felt. But he had to know you.

“I’m Orpheus,” he started, and when you turned your bright eyes to him with your brows furrowed, he shook his head like he was trying to get water from his hair. “No, I meant that I was sorry- I’m so sorry. For knocking you over, miss.” He extended his hand to you again, and he swore that he saw your lips quirk up a bit at him. You took his hand and stood up, brushing the fabric of your dress once again. He caught a trail of your scent, and he was immediately overtaken by the scent of fresh flowers and lavender.

That was when he really got a good look at you for the first time. The first time he saw you had been brief. You weren’t even looking anywhere near his way, and he only caught a look at your stunning side profile before you walked away. His vision had been practically blurred from excitement while he walked up to you, and he was so embarrassed about crashing into you that he was subtly trying not to look in your eyes. But… damn, he had been missing out.

He swore that time stopped. His own heart stopped beating, even the sluggish beat leaving for a few moments. The noises from the town square were so dull that they seemed muted. The stares of Steve and Sam felt so far off that he didn’t even notice them. All he knew was that he was utterly entranced by you, and for a second, he could have sworn that by the look in your eyes, you felt the same way. But like the blaring of an alarm, something knocked you both out of it, putting you in the present, with present problems.

“Oh, the fruits,” you muttered, looking at the peaches and apples that tumbled right out of your basket, bending over quickly to collect them despite the fact that they had gotten bruised. Bucky’s heart jumped to his throat with guilt when he realized he had ruined the fruit you had either picked or paid for, and then he was rushing to get them even faster, praying to the gods that you didn’t automatically hate him.

After looking into your eyes, he doubted he could live with himself if you even so much as disliked him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t have the best footing,” he apologized again, gently placing the fruits back into your basket.

“It’s okay,” you said, and your eyes trailed behind him to look at his friends that were howling with laughter, holding onto each other. He saw your displeasure, and his heart dropped when he understood that you probably thought they had sent him over just to mess with you. Your eyes whipped back to Bucky, and he blushed something fierce. He felt his cheeks warm up under your scrutiny, and then there was a smile creeping back onto your face. “I'm Eurydice.”

Oh, Gods. Eurydice. He swore that he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. He had grown up with the Muses, even had a mother as one, and was surrounded by music and poetry and epics every second of his childhood. Music was imprinted in his mind, every note embedded in his everyday life, yet still it was the most beautiful- “But I go by Y/N.” No. Eurydice was now second. But your name, the one he knew you had chosen for yourself, was the most beautiful thing that life had ever offered him to hear.

His brain was going many miles a minute, as quick as Hermes on a mission, but all he could do in the end was blink and offer his true name first, like politeness called for. “I’m Orpheus,” he extended his arm again to you, and you shook it twice. Your hand was soft, so soft that he didn’t want to let go of it. He would never forget the feeling of your hand in his, and the way he swore that the nerves under his skin were alight with the gentlest and sweetest of fires. “You can call me Eurydic- I mean, Bucky. I’m Bucky.”

You could both hear the laughter coming from Bucky’s friends, and while you were cracking a small smile, Bucky was dying on the inside. “You like to be called by other people's names?”

“I wouldn't mind being called by yours,” he blurted softly, his words coming out as a quick and uncalculated slur. He blinked abruptly when he realized that he was truly having the worst first introduction he had ever had in his life, and it was the one that somehow meant the most to him. “I- only because Eurydice is such a pretty- so is Y/N- I… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, knowing that he was so close to just having to walk away. Instead of embarrassing himself further, he just gave you a short smile and waved, turning on his heel.

“I’m Orpheus, then. Maybe Bucky, too.” He slowly turned back around, a shocked look on his face. Had you really spoken to him again with your own free will?

Bucky knew that he wasn’t ugly. No god or demigod was ever ugly, other than poor Hephaestus. He knew that he had his own sort of charm and that he could bring the roughest of people to tears and the saddest of people to joy with his music, but he didn’t know anything else. He had three redeeming qualities that swirled in his head constantly- he was pretty, he had music, and he had a famous mother.

“Are you a singer?”

“Huh?” So much for eloquence.

You bit your lip. “You speak… you speak like you have a song in your heart. Are you a singer?”

He was stumped. Most knew at least of his music if nothing else. He was the most famed god or man to ever strum a lute besides maybe Apollo. Most knew nothing of his personality and nothing about him other than the fact that he was born to play and sing, and you didn’t? Where had you been living? “Well, I’m Orpheus.”

There was a grin on your face, and Bucky knew that he never wanted to see anything other than that for the rest of his life. “And that makes you a singer?”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk about who he was born from and where he learned to play and who taught him, but when he looked deeper and saw the spark of mischief in your eyes, he leaned back and held back a small smile of his own. His heart fluttered and grew two sizes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, obvious teasing in your voice, and somehow it still stayed kind. “Maybe I do, and just wanted a free song out of you.”

She knows me, he thought, and his heart may as well have let out a lovesick sigh from within the confines of his chest. She has never heard me sing before, but she will. I’ll sing her a thousand songs.

“I’ll sing you all the songs you desire if you marry me,” he blurted, and while his mind was scolding him for uttering those words so quickly, his heart was steady on beating and so sure of itself that he told his mind off.

To his subtle surprise, you didn’t look shocked. You weren’t disgusted by his rather bold approach and most importantly, you weren’t laughing at him. He held onto your silence in limbo, waiting for you to say something that would either crush him to bits or send his soul rising so high that he reached the cloudy gates of Olympus.

“If you can make me a song that can make the skies open up and weep without singing a word, then I’ll marry you.”

His heart soared. His hands shook. He could have sworn that even his toes clenched. But all you could see were his wide, boyish eyes, and the hopeful look that dawned across his face. He nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything.”

He saw your lips pull up into a smile, genuine and even a little shy, and he couldn’t help but want to step closer. But he knew he had already been up front and abrupt, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your own head slowly. “I’ll see you soon, then, Bucky.” You took a step back, eyes still connected to his blue ones until you finally turned around and walked away with the same basket on your arm, same dress swaying with the tuneless song of the wind.

The three of them stood in silence, watching you walk away, taking pieces of Bucky’s heart with you in your cradled arms. The bustling of the town was loud, moving about like nothing of significance had happened right where they were all standing, and Bucky found it nothing short of insane. Did no one else just see how the world stopped turning for that one girl? How the Fates put a pause on the clock just so that they could meet?

Steve’s voice brought him out of it. “Did you just ask for her hand in marriage?”

He didn’t even have the energy to shrug. All the swirled in his mind was love, passion, music, and you. You, you, you. “I had to.”

“How will you even find her again?” Steve asked, his logic once again being the only thing that held Bucky down to the ground.

“I know the work of Eros when I see it,” Sam said to Steve, shaking his head somewhat fondly at the pale boy with brunette hair who was still staring off in the direction you left in, like you would miraculously appear again. “They’ll find each other again soon enough.”

The hours went by and then the daylight turned into night and back to day again, and Sam’s words couldn’t have been truer. Your spirit and your face and your voice found Bucky with every few seconds that passed by. He couldn’t blink without seeing you. He couldn’t listen to anyone without hearing you. He couldn’t breathe without smelling your beautiful scent. Everything tasted bland, looked plain, and sounded like white noise after he met you. He knew that until his last (and unlikely) breath, his heart would ache for nothing more than to be yours. He wanted his ring to be on your finger, and yours to be on his.

So he began to make a song.

§§§

He worked tirelessly. The hours below the sun that used to be spent laughing and playing with Steve and Sam were exchanged for hours of composing. His normally perfect posture was hunched over as he tried to find the melody that had stirred in his heart when he first saw you- because he knew that was it.

By the end of twelve days of pure struggling, most of the song was finished. He was a fast worker, so fast that it made everyone else’s heads spin, but he felt it was going too slowly. But then again, he was fast at everything. The melody was as stuck with him as his skin was to his body. He was sure that it would never leave him, even if he wrote a thousand more songs. And part of him never wanted it to go, because it was so you.

He had only held one conversation with you, and it wasn’t long enough, but he felt like he had known you for years. He felt like he had sung to you hundreds of times and danced with you a hundred times more. Your soul felt so familiar yet so foreign that he had to chase after you, and had to discover anything that he could have missed. He knew that you were his destiny, and he had a feeling that you knew he was yours.

The song he was writing wasn’t sad, but it brought tears to his eyes all the same. It wasn’t about longing or loss or chasing after something that would never come to you, but it made Steve and Sam wipe their eyes all the same. It was about your beauty, your inherent wit and kindness, and the way that you set his soul free from chains he didn’t even know of. It was about a love he had never dreamed of finding or even thought to be true, and that was enough to make the three of them weep.

“I think it’s finished, Buck.” This came from Steve after he wiped his eyes again, sitting through the full song again even though his heart aches for a love he had never felt before. “Sam thought it was done days ago.”

Sam had left the two of them alone days ago, claiming that he couldn’t stand to hear the melody and cry each time, claiming that it was beautiful but too much. It made sense. Even Bucky himself was starting to feel the effects of it. But Steve was a stubborn thing, and he would sit through it for as long as Bucky would play it.

“You think it’s enough to make the skies open and cry?” Bucky breathed out, loosely quoting the words he had heard from you not too long ago.

“Even if it’s not, it will surely win her over,” Steve said. “She was already wooed by you, you’re a fool not to see it. She was excited enough that you even agreed to make the song in the first place, anyway.”

Bucky sat there for a few minutes as his fingers tingled, expecting to be used again to pluck the magnificent strings. But he set his instrument down on the log he sat on, sighing and placing a hand under his chin, his thoughts trailing over to you for the thousandth time. “I hope she accepts it.”

Steve just looked at him. “I think that if you came empty handed and told her half of the words you tell me and Sam, she’d follow you anywhere.”

Steve was right. Steve had to have been right, or he was going to wilt right in front of you. He had to be. The brunet nodded, biting his pink lip before opening his mouth again. “Where do you think I’ll find her?”

§§§

It didn’t take long to find you at all. Bucky went to find you alone, finding you because something inside of him told him to search the flowering fields nearby, and there you were. There was a hat made of straw over your head to cover your eyes and face from the sun, and you had the same basket on your arm that you had the other days. It was empty this time, and he had no doubt that you were looking at the flowers for fun before going to look for fruit. He couldn't help but smile fondly at you from across the field, and then he was gripping his lyre and taking a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice full of emotion instead of being the strong sound he wanted it to be. Nonetheless, it caught your attention, and then your pretty eyes were wide on him. Immediately, your feet turned in his direction and you made your way across the meadow, and he followed suit. He met you in the middle, so nervous that the grin that was deep inside of him wasn’t coming out at all.

You were both at a loss for words as you stood close to each other. His hands shook at his sides, aching to hold your hands in his. He wondered if they were as soft as your voice, or as smooth as the petals flowers you admired. “You came?”

He blinked. Of course he did. It was all he could think of doing. “My only regret is not coming sooner,” he admitted, and he watched you angle your eyes downwards, and he smiled at your shyness. “Would you like to hear it?”

Your eyes were connecting with his again, and he could have sworn that your smile could have put him in an early grave. He was momentarily stunned by you and your brightness, so stunned that he hardly even heard what you said. “Of course I would.”

“So then you’ll hear it,” he said softly, his heart and mind completely taken over by you in your presence. He fixed his lyre into position, his fingers already fixed into the correct spots as he began to play your song.

His eyes were shut as he strummed just as he had practiced thousands of times, but he knew it felt different. His body was buzzing with excitement and something else he couldn’t identify, but he loved it. It made him play stronger. His eyes shut even more as he felt the music, swaying side to side a bit as he felt his heart open up to you, finally content with you hearing the song.

He didn’t even realize that he was done until all he could hear was quiet sniffles. He pried his left eye open, almost too scared to look for your reaction, but when he saw that you were just looking up at him with watery eyes and a wobbly smile, he opened his other eye, ready to spring into action.

The only thought going through his mind was that it was impossible that you liked it. The way you were looking at him reminded him of the way people looked at sculptures of ancient monsters— a muted type of awe, but also a sense of discomfort. He brought you to tears, and not in the way he wanted to. He ruined it.

“I- was it bad?” He blurted out, and he cursed himself at ruining his own chance. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t like it-”

“How long have you been playing that song?”

You were too beautiful. Too gentle. You were melting his brain into mush, and he doubted that he would be able to pick up his lyre for another round even if you begged him. “I… I just made it. For you, I made it with you in mind.”

Your facial expression didn’t change. “Where’s the ring?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The rings we’re going to wear when we wed,” you said, almost teasing. “Do you have them?”

His eyes widened. “You want to marry me?” He asked, leaning forward a bit in shock. “The sky didn’t- the rain never came.”

“I cried,” you said, a small smile on your face. You still hadn’t wiped your tears, and he watched them frozen on your face, stuck in time. “I didn’t expect the work of the gods. I just wanted you to play for me.”

He was bewildered. He had half of the mind to ask you if you truly meant it again, but he took his excitement and ran with it. “And you… you feel this too?”

You took his right hand into yours, and he swore that his souls ascended to the gates of Olympus and waltzed right in. “I felt it the second I saw you, Bucky.”

He blushed something fierce before looking down at the ground, shame overtaking his sheer admiration for you. “There’s something I should tell you before you say you want to be with me.”

“Tell me anything,” you encouraged softly, one of your hands coming up to brush his warm cheek.

“I don’t have much.”

And he didn’t. He had Sam and Steve and a nomadic lifestyle. He never stayed in the same place for long, and he didn’t have a roof over his head. He didn’t need one. Rain and wind and fire didn’t bother him. He preferred to live under the canopy of trees and the protection of nature. But he knew humans didn’t. He knew humans— especially women— liked when their partners brought things to the table, and he had nothing but strings and whistles. He had nothing materialistic. He had no gems, no coins, no house, and fancy clothes— nothing money could buy. But he looked at you and saw that you deserved it all, and even more he saw that he had no way to even provide it for you.

“I live in many different places, I don’t have a home. I don’t have money. I don’t have… I can’t buy you dresses or shoes or any of the stuff you would probably like… and I’m sorry. I know that will probably change everything, but I just wanted you to know.”

You took a step forward, strong and secure, and then your chin was tilted upwards. “Like I said, where are the rings?”

Bucky grinned.

§§§

The day of your wedding was blessed by the gods, whether they admitted it or not. You married each other in the meadow Bucky found you in with a small crowd of people, and when you kissed as man and wife, peace washed over the both of you, and it felt like your marriage had been approved by all far and wide. The kiss that you shared to make the wedding official was short and sweet and full of the most innocent of passion, and he felt so adored by the soft touch of your lips that he felt a singular tear cross the terrain of his pale face for the first time in years.

He didn’t even deny it.

He didn’t deny the way that you danced together was perfect. He had never guided you, had hardly even danced with another woman, but it was perfect. It was like he had practiced with you before a hundred times, and the feel of your hands in his was what kept him sane. He was convinced that you could do anything new with him and it would feel like you had done it before, just because you were so familiar to him as a whole.

He had known you for what felt like seconds in the grand scheme of things, but you knew him inside out and he knew you better than he knew himself. He could find you in the dark, you could identify him with just a whisper of his voice, and he could fall in love with you over and over without even touching you. He would perform the Sisyphean task of falling in love with you over and over again if it meant that he could be next to you.

And luckily, it turned out that you didn’t need the things that Bucky was sure you were going to. He got you a small house just for the two of you to come back to, and he still roamed around in the area. Steve and Sam would walk off and come back weeks later, just like they used to when it was the three of them together. And there would Bucky be, at the house he made possible for you, and happier than ever.

Bucky lived an extremely modest life with you, and he liked it. Farming and getting water from wells and working for the food that was on your tables, cutting wood to feed the flames in the pit in the middle of your main room. Life was somewhat repetitive, so repetitive that he was scared he would lose you to your wild imagination and beautiful, adventurous heart. But it had never been as fulfilling as it was with you.

The little things were what made his day. It was waking up with you at his side, tucked into his arms and still sleeping soundly while he made songs up in his head dedicated to you that made him smile. It was listening to you hum to yourself while you washed corn and peaches and squash in the buckets of water you had carried down the hill that served as your property. It was the way you would pull him out of a funk by taking his hand and leading him out of his chair, dancing to music that didn’t exist, or the way you would coax him to sing to the moon because you wanted a longer night. A longer night meant more time spent with each other.

When you woke up after your long nights, sometimes you would coax him out of bed for some daily challenge, a challenge that usually he would end up beating you at. Part of him believed that you just wanted him to show off, but you always said otherwise. You would challenge him in singing only to have him go first and not even sing, claiming you had already lost. You would tell him you wanted to race him to the stream and back, knowing that you would lose by a long shot. He could run circles around you if he hardly tried, and that was just in his godly blood. But there was never any jealousy, never any animosity, never any bitterness. It was all just sweet, it felt.

You were just so magical. It was so simple, the things that made him happy, but he knew that just one call from your soul to his was more than just communication. He craved it. He knew from the moment that he met you that his soul would always seek yours, even into the afterlife. He knew that every day with you would be as beautiful as you were on your wedding day, shining brighter than any gem or any star in the night sky. And none of it would ever change.

§§

Things changed. Just as the sun rose and set, so did time. It cranked on without a single hint of Bucky aging, and you were still as youthful as you were the three years prior. Life was still beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

You had traveled around the world with him, kissed in so many different cities with different kings and different cultures and different music. You had met so many different people, lived so many different lives, just to go back home and settle there. It was wonderful. He loved you, and you loved him. It was the kind of love that was never at risk of fading or thawing away. It was the kind of love that was only spurned on as the years crawled by, the days acting as twigs added to an already strong fire. It was such a beautiful thing that he had with you, and every day with you felt like one that was blessed by the gods themselves.

Until it didn’t.

Bucky had never felt fear in his heart like he did when he heard your scream travel across the meadow. He didn’t even put on his shoes before tearing off to find you, torn between begging you to make another sound so that he could hear you or pleading the gods to make the sound of your distress stop and never happen again. His chest rose and fell with the exertion, and he knew that he had never been so afraid in his life.

The scream was all that echoed in his mind when he ran through the woods, and as he stumbled upon fallen fruits and flowers that he just knew were yours. He realized he was at the end of a ravine almost too late, and when he looked down, following the steep curve of the slope with wary and partially-knowing eyes, he immediately doubled over.

There you were in all your fallen glory, legs bent unnaturally and neck twisted even worse. The light yellow of your dress was stained with brown and dark green, and in some places a deep red that made him sick to his stomach. Your eyes were looking up at the sky, staring right into the sun as it shone down on your figure, taunting him just like the breeze that began to make your dress look so lively.

Bucky fell to his knees right on the edge of the ravine, his heart not even lurching when he lost his balance. An arm reached out to you, like it was stuck in the moment before you fell and he could reach you. Tears were coming down his face slowly, steadily as he fought to get breaths in. He called your name.

He didn’t know how many times he called your name, or how far the sadness in it traveled. It must have been loud and long enough, because before he knew it, there were hands on his shoulders. They were warm and familiar and even the smallest bit comforting in that moment, but not enough. He wanted your hands.

“Let’s get away from the edge, Buck.” It was Steve’s voice, strong and gentle and the backbone of the situation. Bucky’s eyes pried open at the feeling of Steve’s sturdy hands pulling him backwards, and he retched in his mouth at the sight of your broken, soulless body at the bottom. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten so close to it himself.

“I’ll go down to…” Sam started, trailing off with a soft and distraught look on his face when he caught sight of Bucky again, and Steve nodded at him.

“Let’s get you up, Buck. Up and Washed off.” He hadn't even realized he was dirty at all. His hands were covered in dirt and under his fingernails were the same earthy brown he was used to. He had been pulling up grass from where he grieved without even noticing.

His sobs were so loud that they hurt Steve’s ears. His dragging steps were causing such a disturbance to the land around him that animals seemed to crane their necks at him and cast their glances his way, as if wondering how on earth a person could be that distressed. His mouth was moving, but it looked and sounded more like babbling and trembling as waterfalls came down the canvas of his pale skin.

“Buck, you have to calm down. You’re about to have an attack.”

He didn’t know if he meant heart attack or a panic attack, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were dead, all twisted up at the bottom of a ravine. Your soul had left the earth, left your body, and you were just laying there like you had never been alive. Like you had never held his hand, or kissed his cheek, or wore his ring or laughed or sang or read fine poetry while eating the fruits you had picked. Seeing you down there with your open and dim eyes felt like you had never lived at all.

“Keep walking with me, buddy. You’re going to be just fine.”

But he wasn’t. Every step he took away from you made bile come up in his throat. He wanted to be as far away from your lifeless body as possible, but he didn’t want to ever let you go. He wanted to hold you close to him until it felt like you were alive again. But as his heart beat seemed to freeze up but race like a horse all the same, he realized that you would never be alive again. You were only as alive as your last few moments, whether they were filled with the joy and freedom of having the wind on your face or the fear of falling. He could do nothing to change it.

But he would try to do everything.

§§

He spoke to everything and nothing. Steve and Sam would take turns coming to him after they celebrated your life. It reminded Bucky of the way that his mothers friends used to come watch him while his mother was off and away somewhere, and how it felt like they thought of him as a cute little burden. He knew deep down that his friends cared for him more than anything and that he cared about them just as much, but he couldn’t think about anything but you. He wouldn’t.

It was a service that made the skies open just like you said they would for his voice. The day lilies that surrounded you and Bucky seemed to be weeping with him. The wind came from east to west and west to east, spinning around and throwing in the scent of the flower with the smell of oncoming rain, reflecting the turmoil he was feeling on the inside. He could have sworn that the earth had trembled just like his hands that held your cold and still ones. But if the world had caved down under him at that moment, he wouldn’t have moved. He wouldn’t have opened his mouth to scream, or even say a word. He would have only held your hand tighter.

He spoke to the moon more often than he did Steve and Sam. They hovered, but it was the kind of hovering that Bucky felt he would appreciate sooner or later. He would sit every night and talk to the moon with his legs pulled into his chest, small and in such a vulnerable position that it would have made him feel uncomfortable at any other time. But he was vulnerable. He had been knocked off of his feet and winded. The world kicked him while he was down more times than he could count, and they had opened his chest and peeked right into his heart before seeing it was unworthy and walking away from him. It left him bleeding out in the forest while he listened to the birds eventually go on back to chirping, and watched the flowers push through and grow, and people laugh and smile and talk like nothing changed.

He was doing just that. He was lying in the flowering fields that he would always swear belonged to you, the both of you, when he heard soft footsteps. He didn’t care to look up. He knew it wasn’t Steve or Sam, but why would he care? He had nothing to be scared of now that you were gone.

“You’re Orpheus.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t even blink, but an annoyance he couldn’t shake bubbled up inside of him at hearing the name his mother granted him coming from a stranger. As much as he wanted complete silence, he couldn’t help but say- “Bu- sure. I’m Orpheus.”

“Everyone heard, you know.” The voice was of an old, frail woman. Bucky knew that without even looking, He ignored the fact that pity was strong in her voice, and that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He ignored the way he knew that she thought that she had the right to talk about his wife, about the way he had lost you far too soon. She knew nothing. But he let her speak. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn't even recognize words as an option. He would stay silent and wait until she left. Maybe if he was quiet enough or stared up at the sky in such a still manner that it scared her, she would leave him. If he pretended to be as dead as he felt, he was sure she would leave.

“There hasn’t been a good song since you’ve stopped playing.” He heard rustling, and then he dared to look off to the side to see the old woman struggling to sit, cane wobbling in her hand as she finally plopped her frail bones onto the ground near him. He sighed heavily and looked back up to the sky. “You know, you’ve gotta be the most moving musician to ever walk the earth, from both god and man.”

It was a compliment that would have had him blushing years ago. It would have had his young mind fumbling for his lute or lyre and clearing his godly voice, asking if she wanted to sing with him or just listen. Now, it incited nothing. It meant nothing. “I doubt I’ll ever play again.”

“You pleased god and man,” the old woman carried on, almost like she had never heard him open to speak with that raspy voice of his that was so uncharacteristic of him that it hurt to hear. “Anyone would have done anything to hear your music.”

He finally turned to the side to look the old woman in her face, and he blinked at her. “I’m grieving.”

“You could persuade anyone with seven strings and five notes, don’t you understand that?” Her voice was almost angry. It was hard and nearly pleading, so different from her previous tone that Bucky snapped his head her way. “If I were you, I would have been at Death’s gates.”

They were staring at each other. Bucky was looking at the decrepit woman with curly gray hair that looked like she had dodged a visit to the Gates of Death herself more than once with shocked eyes. His heart started to beat again, like her words were arousing some kind of vicious hope that he never even knew could exist.

“The gods blessed your union. They won’t ever say, but they did bless your marriage. What makes you think that if you beg, you won’t get a blessed reunion as well?”

She disappeared within seconds of her final words, leaving a revelation swirling around in his mind and haunting his every thought.

§§

His feet ached. His hands were beginning to blister from stroking the strings of his tired lyre, and his throat was even beginning to strain. He had been singing for hours, pouring his heart out at the hidden gates of the Underworld, begging for an audience. But above all the physical pain ranked the ache in his heart, the unbearable feeling of your death sitting on his shoulders and ripping him apart from the inside. His grief was destroying him.

Hades might as well have had ears plugged up with the same wax that was used by Odysseus and his men. Usually he went undisputed, because just as life was certain, so was death. There was no questioning the decision of it, or the Fates, or the rule of Hades and his acceptance of his dear Eurydice into his kingdom. Everyone was allowed to plead and beg, but no one ever went down to the gates of the Underworld to ask for the release of a loved one, whether they were man or god. But there he was, standing in dirtied pants with fingertips plucked pink, and tears running down his face.

He didn’t know if he would ever gain the strength to leave. He didn’t know what he would do if someone even bothered to humor him. He wasn’t going to be able to have you back. He was never going to be able to bring you back up above, have you under the sun and shining beautifully like you were born to do. What would he beg of them? For them to let him see that your soul ended up in the Asphodel Meadows? For them to let him hold you one last time before you drank from the Lethe and forgot everything that happened? What if you had already drank from it? Each thought made his stomach lurch more, and his music grew louder and more desperate, like the final battle cry of a warrior.

His back was up against a tree as he sang out again in the night, praying for someone to hear him and take pity on his poor soul. Strike me down and send me with her, if you cannot give me the gift of seeing her again. The same tears that had been steadily pouring down his face were gathered in a puddle at his unmoving feet, yet he didn’t mind. He couldn’t.

“You have woken my wife.”

Bucky’s playing stopped immediately. “What?”

The man before him was dark. He was tall and seemed to take up almost the entire space even though he was only a bit wider than Bucky. His shoulders were broad and his chin was strong, and his eyes were sharp even under the gloomy look they had to them. His cheekbones were sunken in and his eyes had a ring of black around them, like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years. His lips were set in a hard line, but he didn’t look displeased. Most notably, he had a dark aura surrounding him, even black most coming from behind him and nearly encasing him.

“I don’t repeat myself, and luckily, it looks like you heard me the first time.” His voice was deep, enthralling, like a song that Bucky would never dare write himself.

What was a man this terrifying, this powerful, doing in the forest? How had Bucky woken a soul when he was in soulless territory? He hadn’t seen houses for leagues.

Something inside of Bucky begged him to apologize. It begged him to get into his knees and look downwards towards the growing grass and hope to be spared. If this was before he lost you, maybe he would have listened to it. But what did he have to truly live for now that his darling was gone?

“I’m sorry to have brought you out of your dwellings because of my grieving.”

There was a certain kind of silence that would have made Bucky’s skin crawl if he even dared to look the being’s way. “Grieving?”

“My wife.” He breathed out, finally letting his arms loose as he let his trust lyre fall down to his side. “She… has fallen prey to death.”

“Ah,” the man said, his voice nearly a scoff. “I see. The circle of life.”

“And now my life shall go in circles, on and on and down the same miserable path without the woman I love,” Bucky stated, resting his head back against the tree. “I wish I knew a man that grieved. Me… I live amongst gods. We don’t grieve. We don’t die. I have never met a man who had an inch of grief in his heart. I feel like the first to ever feel it.”

“We can lose people in other ways than death,” the man said. “Death is the most absolute, but it seems to hurt a lot less than voluntary abandonment.”

“This is my first brush with death, and I have to admit that I’m not the biggest fan.” What an understatement.

“That’s a shame. My wife is quite the fan of you and your… grief. She says it’s the most moving thing she’s ever heard.” Bucky just nodded, eyes far off. “She wants to meet you.”

“I don’t really want to meet anyone.”

“You don’t want to see my wife? You don’t want a two way ticket to the world you’ve been singing about taking passage to for days now, Orpheus?”

His head turned slowly, eyes widening as he tried to piece thoughts and facts together with his sluggish mind. “What?” But he knew. He knew with another glance at this man that he was no man at all, but one of the original gods. He was Hades, in the divine flesh, standing right before him with a glint in his eyes that meant he was satisfied by Bucky’s shock. He went to his knees, kneeling as a sob piled up into his throat.

“Your Excellency,” he began to plead, recalling back to the times he was a young god, listening to his mother explaining the way that he should speak to all the gods who came before him- especially one as powerful as Hades. “I apologize. My mind is not set right— the loss of my wife has taken a toll on me. Please forgive me.”

“Your grief blinds you.”

There was no point in lying. “It does.”

“I, too, was blinded by grief. In fact, it happens every other six months, though I suppose you young gods and humans call it winter and fall. My wife would leave, gone with a stroke of wind and then come back only to wilt again. But she, just like your own wife, will learn that there is nothing we can do about the situations we are in. Destiny will have us where she has us, and your Eurydice’s path above has ended.”

Bucky wanted to scream at him. He wanted to refuse him and tell him that Destiny and the Fates would have to bend to his will, because there was no other way. He couldn’t last another day without you, let alone a lifetime. But the god he was speaking to was Hades, and Bucky was just Orpheus, a low level demigod.

“However, my wife still wants to meet you. She wants to hear your song clearly, where it’s not muffled by distance.” His heart began to race. His hands were shaking. His eyes were wide as he tried to take in a deep breath, waiting for the gloomy god’s next words. “If you agree to see her and play her that song of yours, I’ll let you see this wife you speak of. Does that sound fair?”

Nodding was all Bucky could do to stay awake.

§§

The Underworld was just as gloomy as it was in the stories. Black and grey ran together to create a shadowy world, dismal and dark. It was full of strange sounds, like the whistling of thick wind that almost sounded like wailing humans. The air was so heavy that Bucky was finding it hard to breathe, and there was a mist so hard to cut through that Bucky could hardly see more than three feet in front of him at a time. Hades led him, and the only reason he could see him was because of his true height showing, and the fact that his dark smoke was even darker than the mist.

His hands shook. Both of them held onto his lyre for dear life. It was close to his chest, strings facing away from him, but still it felt like he could feel the vibrations of it, like the air was mocking him back by playing a song of its own. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and fall to his knees, the environment putting him in near shock.

But he had to find you.

Hades stopped in his tracks, turning his sunken face towards Bucky, who had to fight to not flinch. “If you play for my wife and she likes it, I’ll take you to see yours.” He nodded his head quickly, putting his lyre into position, his arms trembling with anxiety. The double doors opened without the old god even touching them, and then Bucky was faced with an ancient throne room, elegant and dark all the same.

The first thing he did once he got near the sitting Queen of the Underworld was kneel. Tears were already swirling in his eyes, and his throat was lurching. If he were a human, he was sure that he would have been throwing up. He prayed silently to his mother, calling upon the strength of the Muses and their talents into his blood once more.

It was silent until the queen finally spoke. “So you’re the musician?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I expected you to be much older,” she said, her soft voice a plain contrast from her husband’s, and the dark setting of the Underworld. And then, Bucky understood that the stories weren’t embellished. At first thought, she didn’t seem to belong down there, least of all with Hades. He didn’t dare look up at either of them. “Your grief seems to be centuries old.” It felt like it was. The hole in his heart felt older than he was.

“This is Orpheus, son of Calliope,” Hades explained. “He can’t be more than a few thousand years, if I remember correctly.”

“Young, very young.” Persephone mused, the tone of her voice almost curious. “And what causes you to play this song?”

He explained it. He explained all of it. Your death, his need to see you, his stupid hope of bringing you back home where you belonged. He left it all on the table for them both to hear, even though he knew that the odds were unlikely for him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he got ridiculed or thrown back out of the gate, all that mattered to him was that he tried his hardest to get you. And that you knew, deep down in your forgotten mind, that he tried.

“Your music has moved me so, truly.” Persephone said, and then Bucky looked up. She was beautiful, flowers all over her body. She was the brightest thing down there, no doubt, and she still had that godly glow that all the other gods had, a golden rim around her body. She turned her face toward her husband without taking her eyes off of Bucky. “And I want to give you a chance.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “Your Excellency?”

She was facing Hades now. “Give him a condition.” She muttered, her hands gripping the arms of the throne she sat on. “But let him try.”

Hades frowned. “If I let her go, how many humans do you think will hear of this tale and try to do the same?”

“None.” The goddess answered quickly. “They’re afraid of you. This boy is not. And unlike gods, humans accept death. They know that it is a part of the cycle, and they wouldn’t dare dispute it. This is just a confused young god. He hasn’t seen death before. This will be the only time anyone will ever ask this of you, Hades.”

It was pure silence. It seemed to stretch on for eons as Hades contemplated his wife’s words. The lyre had fallen to the ground minutes before, and Bucky felt himself reaching for it. Tears were streaming down his face now. “I’ll play for you again. I’ll play for you for a decade straight if you let me take her home at the end, if you let her remember me.” He added desperately, body trembling with anticipation.

Hades had dark eyes, and those dark eyes were full of uncertainty and something close to anger while he stared at Bucky, with a look on his face that was so blank that it frightened him. His wife’s hand was on his chest as she pleaded with him on Bucky’s behalf, yet he only stared Bucky down.

“If you can walk your way out of my domain without turning back to look at her, you can take her with you above ground.” Bucky sobbed. “If you look back, boy, she stays in the Asphodel Meadows.”

Bucky sobbed again.

§§

His back faced everything. He couldn’t hear anything except for the beating of his own heart, the heartbeat that seemed to extend all the way down to the fingertips that gripped the infamous lyre in his hand. He shook with every breath, and every blink was harsh on his eyes as he tried not to cry.

He wished he could hear you. He wished he could hear your soft voice reassure him, tell him that you remembered everything, that you were right behind him and that you would follow him everywhere, just like he would follow you. Just like he had followed you. He wished he could hear you.

He wished he could feel you. If your warm hands could just ghost over his shoulders and push him forward without quite letting go, he would have made the trek a thousand times. If he could feel your hands brushing away the hair out of his line of sight, he would have been walking before Hades even gave permission. He wished he could feel you.

He couldn’t. But he would walk anyway.

He hardly heard Hades give permission, his ominous tone echoing through the otherwise empty cavernous area, or the sound of Persephone’s whispers. But he could feel it in the air, suffocating and burying him.

Every lift of his foot was agonizing, every step far heavier than he ever imagined he could bear. But he would do it for you. He would push. Every whisper of doubt that crossed his mind, he would throw away.

It didn’t matter that at times, he wasn’t sure if you got what you needed from him. It didn’t matter that he felt like you weren’t fulfilled by the life you had with him. He had faith. It dwindled with every step, but he had faith. He would keep it and nurture it with every breath he had inside of him on the long journey back home.

Seconds started to feel like minutes, and minutes started to feel like hours. He hated it. His throat was closing in on itself like his voice was his enemy, like the voice everyone thought was so golden was the voice that would be the final nail in his coffin.

His feet were still aching, but the ache had become dull. Louder and more painful was the feeling of the cold biting his skin, like it was a reminder to stay conscious, to stay alert and thinking. Thinking was his vice and virtue. The silence was too loud. His mind was in pain, his heart even worse as he started to feel like the cold was his antagonizer. It was cold up above. It was in the cold where you suffered the most, where you struggled to stay positive. It was in the cold where he could hardly provide for you. It was in the cold where he had to hold you so close to him that air didn’t stand a chance between the two of you because every other man had already chopped the good wood.

But at the same time, he began to feel warm. It felt so warm to his skin that it felt like he was about to step into Tartarus. And it was in the warmth that you dressed in that pretty, short dress that got you harassed by men without humanity. It was in the summer that he found he couldn’t defend you. It was in the summer that he had a flash of realization that he wasn’t strong enough. It was in the summer that he got an even more fleeting flash of the thought that he wasn’t enough at all.

It was in the spring, in the months where there was sun and soft breezes, that he realized again that he was of no help. He had gotten a job one spring that was honest work, but brought in a lot less for the household than you did. He was working with the hands that were already calloused over to help men far more experienced than him craft things to sell to the town. He worked hard to come home tired just to know deep down that for all his work, he had not much more than chump change and a positive outlook to his name.

It was one autumn that he realized how much he had failed you, and he swept it under the rug like he did every other season. One autumn, he walked in on you crying in the arms of your friend- the local plum vendor that Bucky always used to buy from- about how you were terrified of being pregnant. As he walked through the Underworld, he asked himself how he could have ever forgotten that moment. Because what you said had shaken his heart to the core.

“There’s no way I would be able to take care of it.”

It wasn’t the certain doubt that was plants in your mind. It wasn’t the fact that neither of you had noticed Bucky hovering in the door because you were sobbing so hard. It wasn’t the way the woman comforted you better than he thought he was ever able to- because with him, you just never addressed the bad. It was as swept under the rug as dirt was. It was the way you said “I”. Alone. By yourself. Him and his contributions weren’t even in the picture. Were they even contributions?

It was never his voice that was his greatest feature and his worst. It was his mind. His mind was his killer. His mind was a killer, his poison and his weapon, and he was turning it right onto himself. His legs trembled as he fought the urge to look, to crane his neck and get his disappointment over with. Were you following him? Did you even remember him- or had you already drank from the river that would steal all of the life that you had before? Had Hades tricked him into leaving quietly?

And if you did remember him, why on earth would you follow him? You would be following him back to a land that was full of struggle and making it through day by day. You would be trudging after him this time only for him to bring up the rear in everything else. He would be the one smiling at you after you came from working to the bone, providing for him and yourself. That was all he ever had to offer, a smile and a song. What could he truly trade for a smile and a song? What could he get you?

Nothing.

What could he do if you got hurt again?

Nothing.

What could he do with his life when he surfaced and found you not there, far behind in the Underworld?

Nothing.

The doubt piled up. It replaced the faith like the faith was a forest and doubt was a wildfire. Every footstep added to it. He was convinced. He was sure that the result of him turning around at that one moment could be no worse than him turning around when he got to be above ground and away from the suffocating death. You weren’t going to be there. Whether he turned right then or in a hundred years, you weren’t going to be there. If you were in your right, beautiful mind, you would have seen him begging and turned your eyes from him and pretended like you hadn't known him.

He couldn’t tell where he was. His breathing was too shaky for him to think about anything else but breathing and thinking about you. It was too dark. His feet hadn’t touched grass yet and he knew he had to try to keep pushing, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He was bursting at the seams to confirm something that he already knew was coming for him.

His feet dragged. His steps sped up but it felt like he was fighting quicksand. He was struggling to walk through it, fighting to take breaths in it. The shallow breaths were somehow pitched high, bouncing off of the rocky, cavernous walls he began to hate. The only thing on his mind was doubt, doubt, doubt. It was a fever he couldn’t sweat out. A tremor he couldn’t shake away. A dark color he couldn’t paint over. A shadow he couldn’t run from. And just when he couldn’t fight it anymore, he saw light.

He never ran so fast in his entire life. He wanted to escape the feeling clawing at his throat and chest, the dread and preparation for pure disappointment. He wanted to step into the light, step into something he knew, before he allowed himself to collapse in grief again. It felt like the light was getting closer, and then it would fade again and come back lighter. He didn’t register the sound of sobbing until the sound faded out and stopped echoing, and then he was aware that his feet were touching the grass.

His feet were touching grass.

His hands shook as he raised them to his face, cupping his cheeks as he came to the realization that he was out of the nightmare that was the Underworld. Emotions were rushing into him faster than he could understand what they were, and then his mind stopped. His face was dry. His head whipped around.

Your eyes were wide and watery. Your dress was torn and bloody, just like it was when you had died. Your hair was a mess, and you were shaking from crying so hard. You stood there like a ghost, transparent and out of place, but crying real tears all the same. The sobs he had been hearing weren’t his own. They were yours. And you were still encased by the shadows of the Underworld.

You had been trying to catch up to him.

“Oh!” His exclamation was more of a dying moan than anything else. His trembling hands cupped his mouth again as he watched you cry again, crying even harder than that one time where the leaves were falling. He uttered your name once, and then once turned into four times, and as your cries got louder, his muttering turned into a shout, your name the one word he was calling out over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” He watched as you opened and shut your mouth over and over, shaking your head as silence was all you could produce. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He was drawing blood from how his fists were clenched. “Baby, my sweet love, my darling,” the names were dripping from his tongue like honey, like it was a balm that could soothe the both of you. His apologies were just as tender, as quiet and disbelieving as the language his eyes were speaking. He couldn’t help but reach out to you with a dying apology on his lips, his foot crossing the barrier you would be stuck behind forever, and just before he touched what must have been your cold skin, there was nothing but air.

Nothing but your lingering presence and his poisonous mind.

§§

He never thought that life could be so meaningless. Even before he met you, he felt like he had a purpose. He was an entertainer, a traveling man, a man who brought joy and music with him effortlessly wherever he went. Not anymore.

He was empty, and he felt like an empty glass jar. He wasn’t even an empty box— he was something anyone that had eyes could see right through. Everyone saw him and knew he was the one who had lost a wife and in turn given up all his divine talent. They looked at him through lenses that were wet with pity. He hated it.

He hated himself for doing the same to the humans who had lost loved ones. He felt horrible for giving them those looks, for telling Steve and Sam their stories without really knowing it. Now he was going through the unimaginable.

Nothing mattered, he learned. He thought that thought over and over again every time he woke up and every time he was going to sleep. He thought it while he sat in the cold on one winter night with no fire in the fireplace. It was something that would have made him worry a bit, or made him irritated at himself. Nothing really caused him to get angry or sad anymore. He was just there. It was like he was living yet another death by extension. The world gave him his cards and he played them in the worst way possible. But that’s what he did. He couldn’t change it.

He couldn’t change anything. All he could do was pray that you forgot the way that he failed you time and time again, and then where it was most important.

He would remember enough for the both of you.

****

hi guys! i feel like i literally have come back from the dead with all the time i’ve been in and out of here. it’s been so hectic and busy that i’m proud i got this out so soon lmao- i worked hard on this, so if you were feeling it please like and reblog!!

[bambibabysblog]

Thunderbolts and Lightning Part 2

Summary: Peter Parker has angered the gods and now there is a price he must pay will his friend Y/N help him appease the Olympians?

Pairing: Zeus!Steve x F!Reader

Word Count: 790

Rating: M (MINORS DNI1) I don’t think there’s anything triggering in this part but the story will get heated as we progress

Inspiration: I was a Percy Jackson kid that now has daddy issues and an obsession with Steve Rogers

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you all are having a good day! I’m sorry it took me so long to post, I’ve been dealing with a lot of different things. I would love some feedback and my ask box is open for any questions you have about me or the story!!

Part 1

Y/N feels her face heat up as she gasps and looks away from this strange man’s eyes. Y/N hears a giggle from behind her from Peter. She backs away from the door and starts to ramble “That was just a joke! Why would the gods care about something that I said, I’m a nobody, I work a desk job for Christ’s sake! Can I even say for Christ’s sake or am I going to get hit with a bolt of lightning?” Y/N started to hyperventilate and clutched her chest. Peter stopped laughing and rushed over to help. “It’s okay Y/N just breathe, I’m sure Sam was just joking around and he’s here for a completely different reason. Isn’t that right?” Peter turned his head and glared at Sam. Sam quickly nodded his head and spoke, “oh yeah, I was only joking, the gods want to see you and Parker about what he did and they already knew he would come to see you which is why I’m here.” Y/N looked up at Sam exasperated “how did you even know where I live? Do the gods spend their days stalking random girls?” Sam let out a chuckle and said “when you piss off the King of the Gods we pay attention to you so yeah we’ve been “stalking” Petey over there.”

Peter gulped and lost all the color in his face. He stuttered out “w-what’s gonna happen to me?” Sam replied, “I don’t get paid enough to know that now come on, there’s only so much time we can spend stalling.” Sam walks up to Peter and puts his hand on his chest, a warm glow comes from his hand, Y/n hears a whooshing sound, and then Peter is gone. Before Y/N can even think about screaming, Sam has done the same thing to her. She hears a whoosh and then there is darkness.

Y/N wakes up on a cold, dark marble floor. She slowly sits up and begins to look around. It looks like she’s in some type of throne room. The ceiling is painted to look like the night sky, the clouds even look like they’re moving. The floor she sits on is a black marble with gold streaked through it. As Y/N looks towards the thrown she notices two things. One, the bigger throne is not in the dead center like it is in the movies but to the right of the center, like where a queen would sit, the throne in the center of the room looks like an IKEA desk chair. Two, there is a huge map of the world engraved into the floor in front of the thrones. Y/N stares at the map and notices that it appears to be moving. There appears to be wind moving the Great Plains of Oklahoma and Kansas. Y/N gasps and crouches down to touch the moving parts, as she does she hears a door fly open and bang against a wall. Y/N looks up and sees Sam and another man arguing.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just put the mortals down wherever you think is best? How many people am I going to have to fish out of the ocean for you to understand that Sam?” Sam responds “ maybe I just want you to go see the world, you stay up here all the time, how are you going to find anyone to sit in that throne.” Sam points at the bigger throne and the pair finally notices Y/N on the floor. Y/N looks into the eyes of the blond man and swears she can see a lightning storm in his blue eyes. The tall, brooding man exhales loudly “damn it, Sam, what is she doing here?” Sam scoffs, “obviously she’s sitting on the ground.”

The mystery man growls and it sounds like a roll of thunder “I mean what is she doing in this room, she shouldn’t be here.” Sam replies, “ oh, I thought you meant what is she physically doing my bad. Well, she’s one of Parker’s friends so I thought-” “PARKER IS HERE?! I TOLD YOU TO TAKE HIM TO NATASHA, NOT BRING HIM CLOSER TO MJ!”

At this point, Y/N is started walking over to the pair. She gets right in the mysterious man’s face and starts talking a million miles a minute “ where’s Peter? Why am I here? Where even is here? Who is Natasha? Who is MJ? Who are you?” The man held up his hand and the last thing that Y/N heard was Sam saying “maybe she’s can help, you should at least give her a chance Steve.”

[rippanasworld]

Oc Goddess reader

A/N: pic reader, this will go along with my Steve Roger x goddess Oc reader fanfic series. I will be posting the rest o the characters that would be included into my marvel series.

Y/n is the goddess of lightening, fertility war, men, and children. She lived her life in the underworld with hades, medusa Persephone, and Hekate.

Age: 1,191 years old

Parents:

mother: Lamia

father: Zeus

god mother: Medusa

god father: Hades

love interest: Steve grant rogers

friends: The Avengers

Personality: feminine, headstrong, confident, seductive, wise, smart, and cunning.

Values: cunning, dedicated, headstrong, empathetic, and independent.

Fear: getting taken advantage of(due to her mother’s past) and being alone.

Strengths: loyal, focused, clever, funny, and observant.

Dislikes: people talking over her, co-dependency, spiders(her mother would send her spider just to let her know she’s watching over her. Lamias on of associations are spiders), people being optimistic in serious situations.

Powers: empathic, can control one’s emotions, ability to control lightning(inherited gift from her father Zeus) trance magick, and ability to save a woman from a miscarriage.