#plant witch steve rogers

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Thinking about your spooky Feederism post but buckyyyyyyy

Hear me out Bucky’s daily nighttime fall attire is just some cute pumpkin pj pants that are pretty loose and fall low on his waist (bc he’s a slut) but I imagine he’s pretty toned not super muscular but not not muscular yk anyways he does his nightime routine shower pjs watch tv scroll on his phone and it happens by some freak coincidence he eats a pumpkin (or sweet potato) pie at 3 am on the first day of fall anyways from the midnight snacking at the witching hour triggers the seasonal expansion starting slowly when the moon waxing as just him feeling a tiny bit more hungry then it gets worse (better) I’m sure you can expand (get it ) on that idea 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Spooky belly kink

Okay okay okay okay this put an idea in my horny brain. SO. IMAGINE:

Buckle in fuckers, this got out of control. It's long. Warnings for unbeta'd stucky belly kink (Bucky centered, though), magical weight gain, magic, rapid weight gain, stuffing, immobility, etc.

It's early in October, so very early that it's still hot outside. Unfortunately. Seriously, like, Bucky just would like to sleep in his cozy and perfectly hideous Halloween themed pajamas and sip on a hot pumpkin spiced drink, but he can't. It's too damn hot. He will end up a festive puddle if he does.

So, his fuzzy, orange pj pants have gone from comfortably resting around his waist to sitting low on his hips for some ventilation, to... dammit, fine, as he's lounging around the house one early fall evening, waiting for it to cool down so he can sleep, Bucky pulls his fussy, festive pajama pants fully off. Leaving him just in an oversized pumpkin t-shirt and his underwear.

But it's still too fucking hot. He's still sweating. Fuck. This. This is not how fall is supposed to be!

Bucky grumbles and pads into the kitchen of his apartment so he can open the little window over his sink. He unlocks, opens, and then turns his back to it, blatantly ignoring the footsteps he can hear in the alley outside in favor of starting to return to his couch where he can lie (mostly) comfortably and grumble to himself about the heat. The footsteps are fine. People walk out there all the time. Whatever. He's fine, other than maybe melting to death.

As a result of the alley being relatively busy usually and Bucky's back being turned, Bucky doesn't notice the curling, semi-transparent tendril of purple, sparkling magic that reaches in through his now open window. It shivers and curls to the best of an ominous whistle. A whistle coming from someone's mouth outside - whoever is making those footsteps.

With his back turned, he doesn't notice its immediate lightning-like strike against his back, the tendrils wrapping around his sides and over his belly even as he continues to put distance between himself and the window.

By the time Bucky is flopping back down onto the couch, the unseen, unheard lightning is gone. It's absorbed into his lean, muscular frame. His back and sides and belly. His belly-

Now prone, Bucky scratches his tummy through his shirt, feeling a bit of an itch. It's nothing, though. Just the fabric of his shirt pulling against his body hair, probably. Whatever.

Whatever.

It's too fucking hot. It'd ruining his fall. That's all Bucky can think about.

Bucky intermittently complains to himself and scrolls on his phone until it's really time to get to bed. Just in his t-shirt and in his boxers with a light blanket over him, Bucky falls into an easy, blissful sleep, only waking up when...

At about 3 AM, according to the blinding light of his phone (when he takes it off the charger to check, rookie mistake), his belly is rumbling. Loud. Bucky rubs the sleep out of his eyes, frowning before he's even really awake.

God!

He feels hollow!

The moment he's done with his eyes, he blinks and glares down through the darkness at his gut. He had dinner! And he snacked before bed while melting his brain into goo on social media. Why is he so hungry?

So. Hungry.

Bucky just wants to go back to sleep. He tries to have a drink from his bedside water bottle - maybe he's just dehydrated? He rolls over to lay on his stomach. He...

Nope.

He's starving.

It feels like his stomach is trying to gnaw on his spine.

So, with a sigh, he has to push himself out of bed and wander through the darkness of his apartment, one hand on the wall and the other outstretched before him so as to not walk into anything, before eventually reaching the kitchen.

What can he have to settle his stomach before he goes back to sleep? Cereal? Nah. He's not in the mood. He's fresh out of granola bars, so not that either. He polished off the last few slices of leftover pizza for dinner. Maybe-?

Bucky opens the fridge, standing in the illuminated pool, feeling the chill wash over him, staring at the slim pickings aaaand -

Huh?

How-?

When did that get there?

Bucky is shameless with buying himself little treats to get through life, in general, but... he likes to think he would remember if he bought himself an entire fucking pumpkin pie and a canister of whipped cream to go with it. Before he can really investigate, Bucky's tummy growls again. A slice of pumpkin pie does sound really good right now. His mouth is flooded with saliva. With a glass of milk. Fuck. That would hit the spot.

Bucky doesn't really think about the fact that he ran out of milk two days ago and hasn't had time to go to the store yet. He feels dazed. Maybe this is a dream? Maybe he did fall asleep again after chugging water, satisfied enough to sleep but not satisfied enough to really fight the hunger off, so it's seeping into his dreams?

If it is a dream, what's the point of getting a plate and a cup? What's the point in real life anyway? He lives alone! Bucky's belly grumbles once more, this time in agreement with his sluggish thoughts. Suddenly, he can't wait. He can't even spare enough time to get himself a fork. It's just him. Just him and his belly and his dream.

Fuck it.

He digs in. Lifting the whole pie out of the tin and nibbling at the crust. It's mild and sweet. Mmm. He takes a deeper bite. The explosion of flavor takes over his tongue. That's it. Yeah. His eyes slide shut. The creamy pumpkin and dancing spices; the sweetness; the crumbly, delicious crust. Bucky takes bite after bite after bite, barely taking the time to swallow. He wants to fill his entire mouth with the taste and texture of the pie. He stuffs his face until his cheeks puff out like chipmunks.

Bucky swallows a few times to get all of the pie he's eaten down, feeling the chilly, smooth pie slide down his throat and drop into his empty belly. The pie tastes good in his mouth, but it feels even better. He already feels sleepier. He can feel his heartbeat slowing down in his chest. His breathing, too. His eyes are shut, but nevertheless, his eyelids feel heavier.

His belly feels heavier.

Apparently, while he was reveling in the pleasure of this mysterious pie, his body continued to eat. Stuffing his face.

Stuffing. his. face.

Bucky has both hands on the pie and so he can't reach down to explore his tummy. He doesn't even think to do that, though. He's dazed. He's in the process of eating. Eating messily with his hands. There is nothing else. Nothing but eating. He is biting and chewing and swallowing, and his belly is slowly but surely going from painfully empty to heavy. Full. He feels round. He can't touch himself, but he feels bloated. It's meditative.

Stuffing.

The entire pumpkin pie goes down so easily, so smoothly that Bucky doesn't really register that he's just put away an entire pie. He's living in the timeless, foggy, and nonsensical reality of what must be a dream. It's not his fault that he doesn't realize he's run out of food to shove into his hungry mouth until he finds no more filling or crust and instead just his dirty fingers.

Rather than panic over how much he's thoughtlessly consumed or be astonished about his sudden massive stomach capacity, Bucky simply licks his fingers clean with a satisfied, weighty sigh. His left hand, then his right. Then, Bucky licks his lips, too. He blinks slowly. He feels good.

He licks his lips again, savoring the taste of the pie. Moaning over the fact that he doesn't have anymore. Oh, wait-!

Bucky's eyes flick open urgently, his mouth makes a click sound, dry. Mindlessly, he sets the empty pie tin back onto the fridge shelf he found it on. He has whipped cream still! He has a gallon of milk still!

The little logical voice peaking through his dreamy haze and rich satisfaction clouding his midnight reality tells him he can have a taste, just a dollop. The amount that would be put onto a single slice of pie. Reasonable. Not too greedy.

But...

Then Bucky's swollen belly gurgles. It has other plans for him. So, even though Bucky's head tells him he's just going to have a little, his suddenly gluttonous belly overrides it. Big time.

The aerosolized sound of the whipped cream coming from the canister is hypnotizing from the moment he tips his head back, puts the nozzle into his mouth, and presses down, releasing the sweet, silky sugar and cream to the moment the canister squeals. Empty.

Bucky swallows.

Did he swallow at all when he was emptying the whipped cream into his mouth? Did it all pour directly into his gut?

Bucky sets the empty can next to the empty pie tin. The idea of investigating his throbbing, tight, overpacked belly enters his peripherals but... he gets distracted.

Bucky chugs an entire gallon of milk, moaning through it, feeling it flow right into his tummy and slosh around. The crust of the pie absorbs it, expanding. His belly gurgles and grumbles. Bubbles. Bloating. Oh.

Oh.

The whipped cream went in heavy and sweet, and the milk adds to it. It's not as sweet, but it is heavy.

Bucky knows without looking at the label that this is full fat milk. He never buys full fat milk anymore! He must've picked it up by mistake! Oh, well.

He's not going to return it.

He couldn't.

He's done with the gallon.

He's done with the gallon.

Oh.

Bucky burps, he hiccups - he sloshes.

Fuck.

The milk container isn't in his hands anymore. He's free to slap his hands down onto his struggling belly. Feeling the way it sloshes and swirls and vibrates with a few more hiccups.

The tightness of his belly is exhilarating. He feels like a drum. The weight of his belly is comforting, familiar but also new. Instinctually, he knows he's safe. Yet, he's never been so thoroughly gorged before. The heat coming from his taut, heavy gut is like his own personal heater soothing him into sleep. And the sounds coming from his globe-like tummy are like a white noise machine. Bucky is practically falling asleep on his feet. He can't open his eyes. He can't move.

He can't move.

"Oooh," Bucky moans, staggering back one step, then two. His hands are flat on his gut, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing away. His entire center of gravity has been thrown off with an entire pie, can of whipped cream, and gallon of milk.

He stands in place, wobbling. Waddling.

Bucky waddles back to bed, arms around his belly to try and keep the burps and hiccups and moans in. He doesn't want to be jostled too much. He might pop. He hardly remembers how he got back into bed, let alone if he closed the door to the fridge. It doesn't matter, though.

The moment Bucky is on his bed, he's out like a light. On his back, weighed down, hot and tight and good, and snoring softly. His hands never leave his belly. He's stuffed it, he's grown it, he's--

And as he's drifting off, he's wishing it was like this all the time. Not just in his dreams. Full. Taut. Swollen. Big.

The next time Bucky drifts into consciousness, it's much later. It's still ungodly early, but... later. There's a light from the full moon drifting into his room. It's not light enough to really wake him up, but enough that he realizes he's...

Heavier.

Bucky realizes, half-awake, that it's harder to breathe now than it was when he was last conscious. Huh? Why? Does he have an oncoming cold? Is he congested? He sniffs. No. So, what?

Bucky attempts to roll over. He doesn't make it, though. Instead, he just groans.

Yeah.

He's, uh, he's -

Heavier. Definitely heavier.

Rounder.

In the limited moonlight, Bucky can juuust make out the way his shirt has filled out with, with a solid, thick belly that's ungodly round.

A faint tickling of, oh, that's right, appears at the very back of his mind, but mostly Bucky is bewildered and awed. The pumpkin face on his shirt is illumated by the light of the full moon, and it's stretched and warped by his body. His belly.

His belly looks like a pumpkin. It would look like a pumpkin even without his festive shirt. It's that large. Heavy. And tight.

Holy shit.

How? What? When?

Bucky lies there, panting, sweating, feeling swollen and sleepy, with his hands on his gut, contemplating his existence for a while longer. What the fuck happened to me? Where did this gut come from?

He's on the cusp of the thought of did I have a midnight snack? And the following, was that dream(?) real? When -

Oh.

"Ohhhh," Bucky moans around his panting breathes, scrambling to lift himself higher on the bed and finding himself unable to do anything. He's too heavy. He's -

Is he growing?

It is harder to breathe.

Yeah.

He's, he's growing.

The face of the pumpkin is stretching, stretching, streeeetching. In the silence of the night, beyond his heavy breaths, the only sound is the complaints of his shirt fabric and the seams.

Under his hands, he's heavier and harder. Oof. He even feels fuller, the larger he grows. Bucky pokes his fingers into his gut, and out comes a deep, brassy belch despite the fact that his fingers don't sink into his belly at all. He's so fucking bloated. It's like he's shoved a basketball up under his shirt. Hard as, as a pumpkin!

And he's as roooooound as a pumpkin, too!

He watches the growth, the swelling, the bulging of his middle as he pants harder and harder. It's... it's... again, he slips into a hypnotic headspace without his knowing. The visual makes him feel sleepy. Hot. Heavy. Weighed down and comfortable. His eyelids droop. And, in no time, with his pumpkin tummy expanding out from his body, over top of him, Bucky is lulled to sleep. A soft, sleepy smile on his face.

Yet, his sleep is no longer dreamless. It's still blissful, but it's colored by visions of being a pumpkin. A huge pumpkin. Prize winning. The kind you see at a county fair being lifted by tractors from the beds of trucks to industrial scales. He's not on a scale in his dream, though. Which is good - he might break it! Instead, he's growing in a pumpkin patch, tethered to the ground by thick, feeding vines, but really, he's stuck in place by the massive weight of his pumpkin belly on top of him. Pinning him. Legs splayed out. Arms splayed out. Tummy growing and growing and growing. Rapidly. Impossibly. Crushing him.

Outside of his dreams, lying back and unconsciously in his bed, Bucky rubs and rubs his gut, obsessed with the taut, hard, spherical surface. He's practically vibrating with warmth. He is still smiling. He's snoring softly under the heft of his gut. His cock has worked itself to throbbing hardness in his underwear but even his physical arousal can't overpower the bliss of his dreams.

He can't shake himself out of the dream -

Growing. Swelling. Widening. Fattening.

Late the next morning, Bucky wakes up disappointingly thin and flat-bellied. He frowns down at himself. The only evidence left of his dreams is the sweat covering his body and the wet spot in his boxers. His shirt... he, his, his shirt might be a little looser than it was yesterday. Stretched. But. He must be misremembering. Also, his tummy, it must be his imagination, but it feels... tender.

As it turns out, Bucky isn't going to have a dreamless night in all of October. Not after that first night, his unconscious mind full of greed and gluttony. Stuffing. Stuffing. Stuffing. Growing. Growing. Growing. Heavier. Heavier. Heavier.

His dreams have him gorge himself, an unending tide of food and lust that can't be satisfied until he physically can no longer reach whatever food has appeared to him in his dream. Or, his dreams are full of nothing but unending growth until he drifts back into consciousness from his sunny, pleasant dish in the cool earth of the pumpkin patch. Rising above the rest of the pumpkins. He's big. He's huge. He's giant. He's impossibly massive. Much more pumpkin belly than man.

His starting size in his dreams climbs throughout the month until when he shuts his eyes, he's so huge that he can hardly move. Crushed by the fantastic, humongous blimp of his belly. He can not describe the way it feels to begin so large and only swell more.

More.

He didn't know their could be more! Bucky moans to himself, thinking about it. More. It's such a good word. How did he never know before? More.

How big could he possibly get?! Bucky craves to know so badly. He starts stealing naps in the middle of the afternoon. He starts hitting snooze more often. He puts candy bars that he's been trying to save for tricker-or-treaters on his nightstand to open and stuff into his waiting, salivating mouth the moment he's unfortunately pulled from his dreams. Big, big, bigger.

Yes.

Bucky won't complain about the shift of his dreams; not the content or the frequency; he can't complain! Especially not when on the Halloween night, with the moon perhaps the fullest he's ever seen it, round and fat and bright, his dreams take him to the fridge again.

He hasn't been back to the fridge since the first night.

Bucky licks his lips, and he rubs his chubby hands together even though it makes him giggle, it's such a cheesy gesture. But. He can't wait to tear into whatever is in his fridge. All of it. He's going to eat all of it. He fantasizes about destroying everything in there and in the pantry and cabinets and everything he has to eat. Every little morsel possible. It's all going down his throat and dropping into his fat, fat belly.

His firm, heavy enough to leave him sweating and gasping, heart thudding, waddle-inducing belly growls. Despite the overfed size of him, he feels starved.

With a jerk, Bucky opens the fridge and groans. He's brought to his knees. All that delicious food. Take-out containers galore. Each heavy and sticky - the sign of good, really good food. There's an entire three pizza boxes in there, too! Each box is full of with a complete, delectable pie. A gallon on chocolate milk. Full fat chocolate milk. Eggnog, too. Unseasonal, but... Bucky doesn't fucking care. It's going to be so thick and rich and good. He'll chug it straight after the milk. Further inspection reveals that in one of the drawers, there's an untouched pumpkin pie. Fuck, yeah. Fuck, yeah! Underneath the pie, there's a container stacked full, so full it almost can't shut, of fudgy brownies. Bucky finds cookies, too. The take-out includes Chinese food and Thai and Italian and -

"God," Bucky moans happily, stroking the parts of his heavy, gravity-defying gut that he can still reach. He hopes he won't be able to reach hardly any of it soon. All this food.

He's going to expand.

He's going to get so fucking fat.

Bucky empties the fridge. Then -

THEN

T H E N because Bucky is a true glutton now, by the end of his month of training, he goes on. He eats more. He finds the cabinets and the top of the fridge equally, fully stocked. The dream melts further from reality at that point, and lightning bolts, friendly, helpful lightning bolds of sparkling, neon purple begin to tangle around packages and bags and dump the contents into Bucky's mouth. All he has to do is stand there, which is a good thing because even the dream can't rescue him from the weight of all his gluttony. This feast has made him fatter than fat. He's engorged. He is massive. So fucking round. His knees shake. He moans and shivers around the candy bars being ripped open by sparkly purple magic to be shoved down his throat. Sticky. Sweet. He's eating them whole. With each bar, he feels the fat on his frame grow. Thicker. Rounder. Heavier. Abruptly, Bucky crashes back onto his monsterous, dimpled ass.

And he wakes up on the kitchen floor. Bathed in moonlight. There is no food in sight, although there is -

There's

All around him, littered are the remains of his feast. Wrappers. Crumbs. Empty containers.

It was real.

But

How?!

Bucky palms his flat, tender belly with a moan. He lets his head drop against the floor rather than craning down to stare at his disappointment of a belly. He wants it to be real so bad. That fat, hard, tight gut. His mouth waters and his appetite roars. Please.

Please!

His cries are heard.

It must be a dream! Right?! That's a thing? Isn't it? Waking up into another dream?

It must be a dream because it hits him all at once. The growth happens as footsteps start to echo through the alley outside Bucky's apartment building.

Step. Step. Step.

Bucky is trying to get himself back to bed to sleep off this weirdness (and maybe have time for another gluttonous dream before he has to go about his day), getting onto his elbows to stand up when BWOOOPH.

Bucky swells.

Sudden.

Hoooly shit.

Heavy and round and hard as the fattest pumpkin in the whole patch.

Bucky is knocked entirely onto his back with a heavy crash. The wooden floorboards creak under his massive frame. Ballooning. He's ballooning. He hasn't stopped yet. Bucky moans ungodly loudly. It's real. It's real! This is everything he wanted! The sensations. The heat. The pleasure. Christ. He wants to be a pumpkin forever.

He's awake! He has to be! It's never felt like this before. It's so real! Every detail is clear and fucking hot as shit. He can't reach his other arm to pinch himself, so he pinches the thick, firm fat of his expanding gut. He pinches as it grows. Bigger. Bigger. He whines with how hard he pinches his blubber. It hurts! He doesn't wake up!

It's real!

And it feels so fucking gooooood.

He's a fucking pumpkin. Ripe. Overripe. He's a whale. Blubbery. Too heavy to swim. He can't move. He's just -

Oh, fuck.

He moans out all the limited air he has in his lungs. Loud. Outrageously turned on. Pulsing and throbbing tightly, hotly. His cock but really his belly. It's pulsing, it's gurgling, moving, sloshing like he really did consume all of that fucking food and all those gallons of thick, fattening milk and Eggnog and juice and his poor tummy has no idea what to do with all the rich calories.

Laughter floats in from the alley outside. It's followed by a voice, deep but sweet, too, "I can make that happen, darling."

Bucky has no time to ask what? What will you make happen? He has no time to even think about thinking. The seductive tone of the voice feels like fingertips against his most sensitive flesh. All of him is sensitive now, plumped. Fattened. Ripened. He would shiver if he could move. If he wasn't so fat that he's immobile. He loves it.

Following the voice, eyes, blue eyes, appear outside his kitchen window.

Bucky should be afraid, but he's not. He's -

He's intrigued.

He's the child lured into the witch's house and fattened for eating. Too stupid and gluttonous to dream of putting up a fight.

"I can make you my fat pumpkin all year around, not just as a Halloween treat," the velvet voice purrs. A hand appears next to the stranger's attractive face. His fingers flick and -

Purple, shimmering magic bolts from his fingers to somehow cradle all, all of Bucky's heavy, massive body.

BWOOOPH

Bucky bloats, packing on at least another hundred pounds.

"Oh!" Bucky moans, fingers scrambling over his rolls, trying to touch himself. He wants to touch himself so badly! Frantically, he nods his head, feeling his chin double and triple, "pl-please! Please! I wanna be-" he groans. "I wanna be your pumpkin!"

"Good," the attractive witch purrs.

"Grow me! Please!" Bucky cries.

The witch does as he pleads, humoring him. "What do you wish to eat, my pumpkin?" he asks as he slithers in through the open window. Standing before him, his cold, electric-sparking hands against his sensitive, taut skin and the underlying blubber.

"Anything!" Bucky whines. "Anything! I just wanna, I wanna be bigger!"

"Ohh, what a greedy pumpkin I have." He slaps his gut, laughing. Bucky ripples like thick jello. Holy shit. His toes curl. "I can't wait to make you bigger." His fingers and sharp nails dig into his tight flesh. "You, pumpkin, can call me Steve."

"Steve," Bucky moans immediately, "g-grow me."

[rosyheretic]

little bird (part 2) (steve rogers x fem!reader)

part 1

summary: steve rogers has been acting strangely around you for months, and now you know why: he found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you until you couldn't take it, as penance for your insubordination in the field. how much of steve's provocation can you take? and does he enjoy working you up? (part 2: oh yeah he does)

warnings: smut (18+), fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (bad), praise kink, size kink? ish? it's steve c'mon, witch reader, dirty talk, aftercare (fluff?)

notes: thank you guys for reading the first part! hopefully the grand finale lives up to your expectations. i plan to keep writing and hopefully improve, so let me know if you have any feedback or requests! up next on the queue is a sex pollen fic (with a twist!) because i'm a simple woman.

steve grinned at you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up to perch you on the counter.

his big hands fell on your knees and pushed them apart so that he could stand between your legs. his dominant hand then slipped under your chin, tilting your head so he could kiss you.

steve rogers was a passionate kisser. he was hungry, taking possession of your mouth and exploring you with his tongue. he found the back of your neck and stroked it as he pulled back to speak.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you like smoochin' me," steve teased, drinking in your kiss-swollen lips and dazed eyes.

"oh, quit gloating and get to work," you fired back. a splash of magic escaped you and pink wisps guided his fingers toward your heat.

"since when do i take orders from you, dove?" steve pulled his hand free of your power and tutted. "the whole point of this exercise is to teach you to respect my authority."

"is that so, captain?" you sang back. "i thought the point was to rail me."

"i'm a talented guy," steve said, planting a kiss on your cheek so his lips were right by your ear. "i can do two things at once."

"then i suggest you get on it, rogers, because right now i don't see a compelling reason to change my behavior."

steve chuckled and captured your lips in another intense kiss. when you parted your lips to let him in, he used the momentary distraction to pick you up and haul you over his shoulder. your dress flipped up, revealing your upper thighs and your ruined panties.

"wha—STEVE! put me down!" you screamed, pounding your fists on his back. with one quick slap to your thinly clothed ass, he shut you up.

"you want a reason?" he said, slapping your ass twice more. "i'll give you 20."

he carried you to the couch, hitting each side of your bottom one more time before he sat down. he bent you over his knee, holding you down with his free hand splayed across your back.

"i'll just slip these off so i can see you, babygirl," he cooed as he dragged your panties down your legs. when he saw the large wet spot on your underwear, he laughed in triumph. "look at that. nice and wet for your captain, hm?"

steve gave you no warning before he resumed his punishment, landing slaps on every inch of your backside quickly and randomly. after what felt like hours of this punishment, you were delirious and helpless in his arms. or so you both thought.

he turned you over on his lap, hiking your dress up your legs again for access. when he forced your legs apart and moved his hand toward your mound, you braced for relief. instead you watched in horror as he drew back his hand, winding up for a slap right to your pussy. you flinched hard and shut your eyes.

when the spank never came, you opened your eyes to find steve's hand hovering in midair, its path interrupted by the electric fog of your magic.

"still resisting me, little bird?" steve raised an eyebrow at you, unfazed. then he started to push against the energy barrier. your involuntary magical defenses disintegrated under the pressure of his hand. he wore a cocky grin as your power fell away, leaving you defenseless.

you wanted to keep up the bratty act because the dynamic was fun for both of you. but in failing to protect yourself from his punishing hand, you had shown your cards. he knew how much you needed this, how powerless you were against the craving for your superior.

"betrayed by your subconscious," steve found humor in the situation even while you trembled beneath him. mercifully, he gave up on spanking you in favor of teasing your folds. you mewled at the first swipe of his fingers through your heat. "don't worry, i know you could still kick my super ass if you wanted to. but you won't, will you?"

"no..." you whimpered as his fingers sought out your clit, hovering over it and stroking around it to work you up. "wanna be good, captain, please."

"that's all i ever wanted to hear," steve said with a giddy smile. satisfied that he'd corrected your attitude, he gave in and rubbed your clit in earnest. "there's my good girl. i always knew you were in there somewhere."

"oh my god, yes," you breathed as he buried a finger inside you. he explored your walls with gentle thrusts, almost too gentle. you wiggled impatiently in his lap, creating friction on his bulge which was pressing into your side.

"careful," steve hissed. "you may be a super scary witch, but my cock would still split you open without some prep. you gotta be patient. can you do that for me?"

you whined but agreed to his terms. as a reward, he added a second finger. you could feel yourself stretching to accommodate his thick digits. sensing the resistance, steve searched for something to distract you—literally. he probed along your walls like a man on a mission, grinning when you cried out.

"gotcha," he murmured, almost to himself. your pussy fluttered and clenched wildly around him. "that's it, sugar, keep squeezing my fingers just like that. can't wait to be inside you, sweets."

steve's next move was calculated; he was a strategist, after all. as he worked in a third finger, he traced his thumb up to your clit, rubbing it harshly in time with his thrusts. you were a goner as soon as you felt three huge fingers stretching you out and doting on your g-spot.

"oh, princess, i know it feels so good. it's okay, you're doing so good, yes, my good girl, coming on your captain's lap like this," steve coaxed you through your orgasm with sweet nothings.

before you even had time to recover, steve swept you up bridal-style and carried you to the bedroom. "what happened to being patient?" you quipped as he put you down on the bed and unbuckled his belt.

"i haven't wanted someone the way i want you in 70 years," he responded, practically jumping out of his clothes to get to you. now fully nude, steve's cock bobbed between his legs, twitching and weeping precum. "forgive me if i'm in a hurry now that i finally have you."

his words rolled over you like a warm blanket, shielding you from all fear and uncertainty. steve climbed on top of you and rid you of your dress, the last item of clothing hiding your body from his hungry eyes.

"so beautiful, baby bird," steve marveled at your tits as he kneaded them, groaning out loud at their softness. you writhed underneath him, desperate to feel all of him. "ready?"

at your affirmative nod, steve pushed his hips forward and notched his mushroom tip inside your entrance. you sucked in a breath through your teeth at the intrusion. "oh steve, you're so —" you held your breath as he fed you another inch, "big! too big..."

"i know, lovebug, i'm sorry. i'm right here with you." steve cooed. he kept his hips still and peppered featherlight kisses all over your face. "you can take it. just open up for me, let me in."

"o-okay..." you whispered, relaxing your body. steve continued. he captured your lips in a greedy kiss, swallowing every moan and whine and mmph! you had to give him. before long, he was seated fully inside you.

"i'm so proud of you," steve pulled away from the kiss to shoot you a lust(love?)-drunk smile. "can i move now? you deserve a reward for being so brave."

"yes, ple—ah!" your reply was cut off with a squeal as he thrust forward at an angle, hitting your sweet spot with ease. he picked up the pace, more at ease knowing you were enjoying yourself. the burn of his cock stretching your walls now felt pleasant, especially when he snuck his fingers down to your bundle of nerves.

"fuck, angel, i'm not gonna last," steve panted, his dick driving into you even faster. "you're so tight, chokin' me... come with me. let go for me, love."

as he spoke, his fingers went into overdrive on your clit. this, combined with the near-intolerable feeling of fullness, sent you over the edge. you felt yourself clench and spasm around him, triggering steve's release. he came with a shout, rope after rope of hot liquid coating your walls.

in your warm post-orgasmic haze, you felt like you were floating. then steve pried himself away from you and off the bed.

"where are you going?" you asked shyly.

"to get a washcloth. you don't have to be afraid, little bird. i'm gonna take care of you."

you smiled to yourself and closed your eyes again, knowing his words to be true.

[buckets-and-trees]

Witchview

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x witch!reader, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: trimmed right down to 1,300 exactly to fit the challenge (see below)

Summary: You wanted out before, but now you were compromised as the bait in your own trap and were becoming desperate for freedom. As he had said famously, the price of freedom was high. Desperation was dangerous. Desperation was fed by hope. Desperation erased the limits of reasonability. You had crossed lines, and you wouldn’t stop now.

Content Warnings: sexual situations (p in v), magic, sorcery, trickery…

Additional Notes: Written for the Friday the 13th challenge hosted by @boxofbonesfic. This one lives in the shadows rather than straight up dark… Another one or two hundred words I may have gotten it darker, but here we are.

A/N 2: Steve returned the stones and came back, because...that's what he did. Literally why would he have done anything else?

Foreheads pressed together, he thrust into you again and again, the yearning engulfing both of you. He held himself over you, leaning on his forearms as if to cage you in, not knowing he was the one moving further into your elaborate trap.

“How can you feel so perfect beneath me?” he asked, reverent as a prayer.

Your heart burned, but you didn’t know what to say – you didn’t want to lie, but you were also unable to form coherent thoughts as you barreled towards your release – and you could not spare any focus elsewhere or risk breaking the spell. So instead, you tilted your head up and sought his lips again for a kiss.

He shifted his hips, hitting your sweet spot, and with a few more strokes, you shuddered and gasped, your orgasm rolling over you. With the clenching of your walls, he reached the peak of his own pleasure right after, and he came with a groan, spilling inside you.

He rolled off and to his side, pulling you into his chest, and you let yourself become wrapped up in him as your breaths mingled together and you came down from your highs.

He smiled then kissed you softly.

When he pulled back again to look at you, you concentrated everything on being in this moment. Nothing could be amiss as his blue eyes discerned almost everything.

“I’m so glad I found you,” he said.

It was you who found him, but he still needed to believe for this scene.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

“I love you, too.”

You brought your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair and then cup his cheek tenderly. “Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He hummed and dropped off, drifting out of consciousness. You spent a few more moments whispering into his ear, planting more sentiments of devotion you needed him to absorb.

You lurched awake, pulling yourself from the dreamscape. It was taxing to project, and your lungs gulped in fresh air.

With your return, the thirteen candles around you had extinguished immediately. You sat up and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, furiously wiping away traitorous tears that had appeared, glad for the dimness in the chamber so your companion could not see.

This would soon come to an end. You needed it to be over. You never wanted to be this invested. He was supposed to be a mark, you drawing him in, not the other way around.

And you needed him to come to you.

To Westview.

The town had been your temporary home before the other two witches appeared and shattered it.

The chaos magic that drew Agatha to Westview was something you’d also felt immediately and wanted to flee, but the boundaries set up by Wanda – one of the first elements of the enchantment – meant you were trapped in the anomaly before you could realize you needed to escape.

Unlike the rest of the citizens, you knew.

You didn’t know everything, but your own magic kept you immune from the hypnotic spell. You knew enough to play along, bide your time, figure out what you needed to when you needed to. Agnes-then-Agatha inserted herself, and you observed, gleaned what you could, kept your head down. You let them play things out.

Once Wanda was gone, you wished to be, too.

As Agatha was trapped, you were, too.

The other citizens had been freed from the anomaly and their lives had returned to normal, but Wanda had bound magic folk to this town, inadvertently caging you in as well, unaware of the unrevealed witch in hiding.

As much as you avoided awakening Agatha from her Nosy Neighbor punishment, you came to terms quickly that you would need another witch to unravel the magical cage and escape.

It had been a feat to get her out, but together you had been able to break the restrictions of the runes and use your magic freely again. The runes had been cast hastily and while Wanda was engaged in battle with Agatha, her focus split.

However, she’d been able to create the magical cage to bind witches to the town without any distraction, and it seemed short of the Sorcerer Supreme or the Scarlett Witch herself, you may never be able to break the enchantment and get out.

You and Agatha had determined you would need someone who – despite and in many ways because of his goodness – would make the world burn for those who mattered most to them.

He may have passed on his shield to someone else, but Steve Rogers would never be able to ignore his heart, and the aim was that he would become an unstoppable force on his quest to set you free. The chances of convincing the powers you needed on the outside to come to your aid were nonexistent otherwise.

With care you had crafted the thirteen candles to commune with the soul of another.

Used individually or only in small groups, they were relatively safe. Burning all at once, thirteen communion candles were incredibly powerful and increasingly dangerous the longer they burned, and you were burning them together and nearly to the end of their wicks to achieve an illusion strong enough to enchant the super soldier. Thirteen candles could simulate reality. But they also could attract demons, ghouls, and spirits, requiring you and Agatha to continue working together – her standing watch while you went under.

You knew she was studying you now.

“Remember, he’s a means to an end.”

You turned your head to meet her gaze, unflinching. “It takes a lot to invest in making the illusion real with someone like him.”

She arched her brows. “I’m not judging you if you’re falling for him.”

You sighed. “He’s intoxicating.”

“Don’t get distracted and mess up. I know you don’t care about trapping me here, but if I’m stuck, so are you, which means no reality with Prince Charming.”

“I know.”

“The candles only burn for thirteen hours, and-“

“I know, Agatha!”

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“I know.”

Agatha sighed, then stepped closer and briefly touched your shoulder. “I know you do.”

This trust between you was only temporary, but it was something for now, and the small gesture helped to rebuild your focus.

You laid back down. “I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

“We’re limited on time with him, too.”

One night. You’d projected yourself into his dreams twelve times in one night, creating scenes, memories, a relationship that needed to be undeniable because now you weren’t going to visit him in a dream. For your thirteenth and final visit, you were going to project to him in his waking state, and either succeed or fail.

“Light the candles.”

You closed your eyes and began your own incantation while she repeated hers to ignite the flames and fortify the protection spells.

You stood at the counter, watching the soft morning light begin to illuminate the branches outside the window, waiting for him.

Soon enough, you heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he entered the kitchen behind you. You turned toward him and smiled – it wasn’t forced or fake because that’s just what he elicited from you now. He returned it, but maybe not for much longer.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greeted, reaching for you, but his face faltered as his fingers failed to find purchase.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s not real,” you started. He would believe you either way – you knew that from everything you had studied about him beforehand, and all your manipulations tonight only confirmed that – but what you didn’t know was if that belief would feel betrayed or be driven to devotion.

“What?”

“This isn’t real,” you reiterated, “but it can be.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[theflailing]

Title: Let Us Partake In Summer's Bounty

Art by BritBrit99

Fic by TheFlailing

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe Alternate Universe - Fantasy Alternate Universe - Historical Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug Slow Burn Witch Steve Rogers Shrinkyclinks | Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes/Non-Serum Steve Rogers War Veteran Bucky Barnes

Summary:

Spring was one of Steve’s favourite seasons; it was a time of renewal and intention, a time to plant the seeds of things that will yet bear fruit, both literal and metaphorical. It was a time when the chilly grip of winter gave way to the lush green of new growth; it was when the world took its first deep breath and stretched its limbs after the long, somber solitude that preceded it. Although Steve was born in the height of summer, his mother always said that he did not belong there. “I did a reading, the day you were born,” she would tell him often, a soft and loving sparkle in her eyes. “Your heart belongs to the springtime; it is an omen that marks your soul.” -8- Steve is never one to turn down a request for help, and as he prepares to accept this call for aid, he reflects on his life, the friends he has made, and the community he serves.

Thanks to the fantastic mods over at @stuckybangs 2024 for organizing this event, and thanks to my wonderful collaborator, BritBrit99 for their amazing art!

[justalonelyslytherin]

Nursing Our Hearts Back to Health

Pairing: dragon!shifter Steve Rogers x female witch!Reader

Summary: What else is there to do when you stumble upon a badly hurt shifter than to help him?

Warnings: mentions of blood and a serious wound, mentions of pain and fainting, otherwise fluff

Wordcount: 2k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: Monster Mash-up request by the lovely @nana1000night, her prompt was 'dragon!shifter steve and his witch + "Show me where it hurts". I still take request, feel free to send something in from >>here<< I want to give a shoutout to TheRebelHunter (ao3) who helped me come up with the name for this! Dividers are by @/firefly-graphics

Birds chirped in the distance, their songs carried on by the soft winds that shook the colored leaves. Fallen ones crunched softly under every step she took. The woods were empty, or at least they appeared so. They never truly were empty. 

She could feel the presence of life and magic all around her, hiding in the underwoods, shying away from contact with humans. Even if they usually didn’t venture this far into the woods, they avoided the denser and darker parts of the woods. It was the home of magic and creatures far too dangerous for them.

But she felt at home here. The deeper she could venture, the more comfortable she felt. Where the pulls of the magic thrumming through every leaf and every plant was so clear. She wandered through the foliage with attentive eyes, looking out for herbs and other magical plants she could use for potions and other remedies. She had already found some small groupings of herbs and gathered some of them into the leather bag slung over her shoulder.

Then she spotted a small group of mushrooms nestled under some plant leaves. When she crouched down to take a closer look she noticed something. 

There on the leaves, that she wanted to push to the side, was something. It wasn’t dewdrops as the liquid was dark. Almost as black as the night sky, it shimmered red and violet as she shifted the leaf under the light. Carefully she dipped her finger into it, finding it warm and gooey under her touch. 

Blood.

No normal blood. Not human or animal. That she could tell. She wiped her finger on a small cloth she carried with her and started to look around. It was intriguing to her. Quickly she spotted more blotches of it, sprinkled around the forest floor and the plants. What must have happened to the poor creature to have been hurt so much? The blotches formed a path, one she didn’t hesitate to follow. As she did, it showed her the way to a clearing in front of a rocky hill. 

On the clearing, she came eye to eye with a dragon. A hurt one. 

The leaves crunched under her feet as she carefully stepped out of the treeline, alerting the big creature to her presence. Its eyes opened and icy ocean blues were revealed as its head turned towards her. The creature was alarmed, snarling at her and bearing its teeth. His sounds were loud, his tail angrily whipping about and creating a small gush of wind that made the grass around him dance.

She was surprised but not scared to see a dragon there. The area usually didn’t see many of them, too close to humans for their liking. Humans in turn were too frightened of their presence. It never lasted long for them to coexist before the humans thought to chase them away. That must have been what had happened to this fellow. 

In slow and careful steps she approached the alert creature, hands held up in front of her both to soothe and to show her harmlessness. “It’s okay.' I don’t want to hurt you,” she told him. Its big blue eyes never wavered from her, watching every step she did with eagle eyes.

“I want to help,” she started, her eyes dipping from the watchful eyes to its body. There was blood on its belly and on its side she saw a deep cut. “I can help.” She said with determination, her glance jumping back to those hypnotizingly blue eyes. The dragon lifted his nose, nostrils fluttering as she sniffed in her direction.

She could see the dragon relax, its shoulder slumping and its head leaning back onto the floor. The dragon let out a deep huff, a noise that reminded her much of the heavy sighs humans tended to make when relieved. 

Before her eyes the dragon started to change, the body shifted. As the dragon slowly transformed his huge build was replaced by that of a man. A heavily wounded one. He was in worse shape as a human, weakly clutching his torso. The linen shirt was stained red and sticking to his skin. He stumbled, collapsing against a rock, barely able to stand on his feet. 

Quickly she rushed forward, all caution thrown to the wind to aid him. Her hands steadied and helped him to half sit half lean against the boulder. His skin felt cold and clammy to the touch, coated in a layer of sweat. With concern she eyed him. Next, she turned toward his wound, her magic wouldn’t be able to heal it entirely but she could stabilize him, and buy some time. Mumbling the enchantments to heal him she hovered her hands above the wound.

Steve watched her in disbelief. He was used to being alone and having no one help him. Shifters like him were lone wolves, often living a life of solitude. The humans held grudges against his kind and in return, his kind was distrusting of them. 

She wasn’t a human though. Humans couldn’t heal, so she must be a witch, he concluded. A very pretty one. He wasn’t even sure she was truly there. His vision fizzled at the edges, growing smaller and smaller. It felt hard to think even one straight thought. His brain was muddled as if his mind was wading through thick and dense cotton. Maybe his lonely mind had made her up as his strength and life slowly left him, bleeding out of him. 

Her beauty caught him off-guard, real or not. 

It was the last thing he could wonder about before black overtook his vision.

When Steve woke up he wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead. It was only when the pain started to break through the drowsiness that he knew he was still alive. His senses came back to him in slow waves. After the pain ebbed away to a constant but not overwhelming throbbing he became aware of the soft mattress he lay on and the feeling of an even softer blanket covering him. Thick bandages were tightly wrapped around his otherwise bare torso. He turned his head to the side, slowly taking in the small but cozy hut he was in. In the corner, a fire was burning in a furnace.

When he tried to sit up he snarled in pain, a new wave rushing through his torso as he clutched his side. His breathing turned rattled and fast. Faintly his ears registered rushed footsteps. As he glanced up he saw her approaching with a concerned look in her eyes. 

Gently she helped him lay down again. The pressure across his chest decreased and air once more filled his lungs, but the pain was still there. It was intense, quickly overtaking all his senses and burning through his every fiber. He writhed in pain. Every new wave was like being stabbed over and over again. 

“Where does it hurt?”, she asked him. Steve opened his mouth but no words came out. Only a rattled, choking gasp. Furrowing her brows, her fingers ghosted across his cheek and forehead. He faintly heard her muttering under her breath words he had never heard before. The pain made everything turn, made him delirious and dizzy. Her eyes lit up with a golden glow. 

Soothing. That’s how it felt to him then. For a brief moment, the pain lessened, which was when he heard her talk, this time clearly, “Show me where it hurts.” Showing was much easier for him than talking. Steve managed to point towards his torso.

Her hands descended down on the bandages, a stern and concentrated look on her face now. Once more he heard that foreign tongue slip from her lips. Words he had never heard before as her eyes once more glowed. Steve peeked down towards her hands, surprised to see them too emit a faint glow as they swept across his bandaged chest. 

The pain started to ebb away, and the heavy weight previously across his chest was dwindling. With it, clarity returned to his mind, accompanied by a fluttering feeling in his chest. It was his heart that beat quickly as he thought of her kindness and help.

Once she was done with the incantation she looked up from his chest to see him already watching her. The intensity with which he stared at her made her cheeks light up with warmth. She couldn’t hold his glance, these bright blue eyes made her stomach flutter. 

Steve slowly pushed himself up again, this time managing to sit up without excruciating pain. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, his legs bumped against hers. Her hands fumbled with the blanket covering him.

“Thank you,” he roused. His voice surprised her. It was the first time he had spoken. Its velvet softness and the deepness like a rumbling bass shook her to the core. 

She wouldn’t meet his eyes no matter how much he tried to catch them. So Steve gently took her chin between thumb and forefinger and pushed it upwards. He smiled down at her, relishing in the doe-like innocence flitting across her features.

With a faint shake of her head, she spoke up, “No need to thank me. I couldn’t have left you there.” Steve thought differently as a rumble sprouted from deep within his chest.

“Everyone else would have.” He watched her brows furrow deeply, clearly conflicted about the thought. “Why did you help me?”

Her eyes grew big in surprise as she raised her chin upwards. “Why shouldn’t I?” She asked him defiantly. He laughed. The noise sent another wave of fluttering through her belly. 

“Because I am a dragon.”

“You are a shifter,” she corrected him and he smiled down at her. She was right and he was content about the fact she emphasized it. “It’s a difference,” she mumbled. Steve hummed, softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

“Not to the humans.”

“Well, I’m not a human. So I don’t share their views.”

“You don’t?” He sounded genuinely surprised, even more so as she nodded her head in confirmation. A groan left Steve as he shifted in bed. Immediately she acted, her eyes glowing once more. Fascinated, he watched as a pillow flew through the air out of a hallway he hadn’t noticed before. She propped the pillow behind him, guiding him gently to lean against it.

“Better?” She asked. Steve studied her, thinking long before he nodded.

“What are yours then?” He asked her and as she looked at him confused, he added, “Your views on my kind?” She bit on her plump bottom lip, the view made Steve rumble quietly again. She tempted him, he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and be the one to nibble on her lip.

“I don’t…” she started, clearly thinking hard, “I’ve never met one of your kind before so I never had the opportunity to form my own views. How could I have left you there? You were hurt.”

“Oh sweet little thing, such a big heart,” Steve mumbled softly, letting his thumb wander from her cheek to her lip. He drew his finger over her bottom lip. The way her breath hitched when he did made him smirk.

“Let me reward you for your kindness and help.”

“No. I don’t want anything in return.” Shaking her head she denied him, brows furrowed once more.

“I insist.” These intense eyes of his gave her the feeling that he wouldn’t back down and that he wouldn’t take her no.

“Since I don’t have much of any possession currently all I can reward you with is an offer.” “An Offer?” Curiously she watched him as he nodded.

“Protection.” He watched her huff and bristle, her feathers ruffled by the simple word.

“I don’t need protection. I can protect myself.” Steve chuckled, causing her to huff even more. She looked deeply offended at his insistence.  “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing. But you will need more protection now.”

“And why would I?”

“Because you helped me and the humans always find out if someone helped someone like me,” Steve pushed away from the pillow again. With a small groan, he leaned forward, coming closer. His breath brushed against her lips, their noses almost touching. Then, in a low voice that sent fireworks straight through her entire body, “And because you are my mate.”

[sunnysideprincess]

My Tumblr sorted - - →

Art tag # deb does art

More recent tumblr fics #deb writes in between

Older drabbles #deb writes

Winteriron mini-comic series #winteriron subway shenanigans

Blorbo musings and fic ideas # deb thinks out loud

Header and title quotes from my ao3 fic Unfinished, Unending

My Ao3 sorted - - →

#dark

Hell, If It Glitters (ongoing, winteriron)

"Then again," Barnes whispers while pulling away, wiping a thumb over Tony's lips. A move that rips his entire being into two warring sides. "Everything's different when it belongs to you, right?"

Steve broke their bond in Siberia. Tony would be happy if that was it. But no, hell has plans for him and those plans go by the name of James Buchanan Barnes.

Time Bomb (oneshot, OG6 poly)

"You were gone long." He stands still, and forces his breath to remain a steady stream, even as she drags her fingers gently under the hem of his shirt. As she scraps her nails along his scar, pinches his skin a little too harshly.

"Yeah, the paperwork was tedious."

Natasha hums and sighs, her breath smelling strongly of wine and cigarettes. She kisses the nape of his neck, digs her fingers into his skin. Not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him.

"You're a better liar than this, Tony."

My Town Was A Wasteland (oneshot, stevetony)

Howard wants to raise the dead. Even if it's at the expense of his own son. It backfires spectacularly.

Grim Pickings (oneshot, winteriron)

The Winter Soldier goes on a Witch hunt.

Part 1 of Watch The World Burn (ongoing)

The Clock Strikes Out (oneshot, gen)

"Tick tock, Mister Stark."

"Time's running out."

"I need a name."

He blinks and shakes his head. Looks around, tries to see the outlines of his team through the dark spots dancing across his vision. A shock of red hair. A flash of a silver. A blink of blue and red. Something, someone is dragged to a corner by the hair and he thinks it could be Barton.

"A name, Mister Stark. Just one."

What An Expensive Fate (oneshot, winteriron, unrequited stucky)

"I can't hurt him, Stevie. You know that. But, I gotta hurt someone. Who better to dish it out on than you?"

Heavy In Your Arms (oneshot, stevetony)

"Steve, what are you doing?"

"Fixing this."

(Or where Steve changes the world and everybody has a role to play. )

#fluff

Symphony (oneshot, stuckony)

When soulmates destined to be together touch each other for the first time, the symphony is heard across the universe. As if he hasn't heard this story enough times. You'd be surprised just how many people are meant to be each other's forever. Not much when it comes down to the entirety of Earth's population. Yet still enough. Clichéd violins and opera is annoying as it is with the side serving of him hearing the music play while his lady love and the new assistant (who later turns out to be a SHIELD plant) accidentally brush their fingers together. Now there's Steve Rogers, in his all American glory and Tony just wants to beat the crap out of this alien army and go back home. And possibly, plug his ears to drown out the extensive noise.

It's the V-shaped stuckony soulmate AU crack fic

Winteriron Subway Shenanigans (comic)

Tony is lucky he has Bucky to protect him from the dilemma called "public transportation".

Cake Toppers And Fireball Piñata (oneshot, stuckony)

For a bunch of master assassins, spies, and superhumans, the Avengers are lousy at secret keeping. Forget world domination or holding lives hostage, their enemies should just get Earth's mightiest heroes to plan a birthday party and be done with it.

Tony's surprise(?) birthday bash.

Do For You (oneshot, winteriron)

Sex, bare tolerance, and mutually beneficial stress relief is what this was supposed to be.

Guns And Rainbows (ongoing, winteriron)

"Would you STOP shooting at people?" "What do you want me to do? Hug them instead?"

In which Bucky's a little too trigger happy, Tony just wants a quiet night with his secret boyfriend, the Avengers are mostly confused about who keeps leaving flowers in Hydra hideouts and Pepper's just sick of these two idiots.

Baby, It's Cold Outside (oneshot, winteriron)

It's Bucky's first Christmas with Morgan and Tony. He has one important question to ask.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (oneshot, polyvengers)

The media paints a picture. The Avengers know better.

My Favorite Things (oneshot, stuckony)

Five times Tony lost something on Christmas and the one time he gains something new.

O Come All Ye Faithful (oneshot, stony)

Christmas now is wrapped up with a satin bow of red and gold and rosy pink. All for Steve.

#stuckony

Symphony (oneshot)

When soulmates destined to be together touch each other for the first time, the symphony is heard across the universe. As if he hasn't heard this story enough times. You'd be surprised just how many people are meant to be each other's forever. Not much when it comes down to the entirety of Earth's population. Yet still enough. Clichéd violins and opera is annoying as it is with the side serving of him hearing the music play while his lady love and the new assistant (who later turns out to be a SHIELD plant) accidentally brush their fingers together. Now there's Steve Rogers, in his all American glory and Tony just wants to beat the crap out of this alien army and go back home. And possibly, plug his ears to drown out the extensive noise.

It's the V-shaped stuckony soulmate AU crack fic

Cake Toppers And Fireball Piñata (oneshot)

For a bunch of master assassins, spies, and superhumans, the Avengers are lousy at secret keeping. Forget world domination or holding lives hostage, their enemies should just get Earth's mightiest heroes to plan a birthday party and be done with it.

Tony's surprise(?) birthday bash.

New Old Fashioned Way (oneshot)

There are ways to win his heart. Most of them don't start with murder, but times are changing.

Half of Us (oneshot)

He stands near the window, holding a glass full of the dark drink he seems to have fixated on these days. The view is as always phenomenal. There are no stars in Manhattan. But Tony, ever the futurist, can envision a perfectly clear, dark sky littered with stars and giant alien ships inside a wormhole. The memory still rakes his bones, haunts his dreams and makes his teeth chatter on his best days. On his worst, it makes him weak in his knees and harder to breathe within the mirage of darkness and destruction.

My Favorite Things (oneshot)

Five times Tony lost something on Christmas and the one time he gains something new.

Jingle Bell Rock (oneshot)

Clint knits holiday sweaters. Steve and Bucky reap the benefits.

NLP's Mini Stories

Tangerine Dreams (stevetony, werewolf AU)

Anthony Edward Stark. He's a beautiful baby, with wide, curious eyes and rosy cheeks. Too bad Steve had to make it weird by imprinting on her Godson.

Bleeding Tooth (pre-slash, winteriron)

Someday, Sam Wilson tells him, he will love the possibilities. Someday, choices won't feel wrong. Someday, he won't feel like a ghost anymore.

Red Letters (hydra stucky, stuckony)

Tony never wanted to be Captain Hydra and the Winter Soldier's soulmate.

Old School (stony, fluff)

Tony doesn't understand why Clint ever thought retirement was boring.

The Forever Kind (stony, winteriron, evil soulmate)

Sometimes having two soulmates isn't worth it.

Confinement (gen, short)

In which Steve Rogers is immortal.

***For fics where Bucky Barnes is neither innocent, nor unwilling to do terrible things for what he wants #evil bucky is my jam

[themculibrary]

Witches/Witchcraft Masterlist

A Familiar Ritual (ao3) - justanotherpipedream steve/tony G, 686

Summary: “Come on Tony-”

“No”

Bucky crosses his arms. The sleek black cat curled up on his bed continued to blatantly ignore him. Bucky frowns as he leans against the door. “You know I can’t do the rituals without your help.”

Tony flicks his ears. “Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before inviting a stinky, slobbery dog familiar along.”

An' Harm Ye None (ao3) - LinneaKou steve/tony, peggy/angie, happy/pepper, jane/thor M, 92k

Summary: “...do as ye will.”

Toni Stark, small-town witch, has served as the head of the Cravenswood town coven for a decade all the while assisting the police in occult-related crime. Between her and Detective Steve Rogers, nothing that happens in Cravenwood is too big to handle - not even the reappearance of her estranged brother... that is, until someone starts ritually murdering townspeople.

As the death toll climbs and a conservative religious group begins to cast blame upon the town witches, something monstrous begins to stir up Craven’s Woods. Faced with an unknown Craft and drawing the suspicions of the citizens she swore to protect, Toni must put an end to the killings before whatever is haunting the woods comes out into the light.

Fear lives in a small town.

Breath of a Fish (ao3) - picturecat steve/tony G, 4k

Summary: Their relationship was courteous, as it must be for any two witches who had no interest in feuding with one another properly. But to someone he could trust not to repeat his words, Steve often complained that Stark was basically a warlock, the way he carried on with esoteric nonsense and ignoring the needs of the people. For his part, Steve had no idea what Stark’s objection to him was. He knew only that the man so obviously delighted in teasing Steve that the people of their town regularly placed bets on when they expected them to come to blows.

Call Brooklyn's Best For All Your Witchy Needs! (ao3) - attackofthezee (noxlunate) steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: There comes a point where Steve can go absolutely no longer without his morning cup of coffee and he has to admit defeat, apologize to his coffee pot and go find the nearest coffee shop.

It’s when he’s halfway through his triple shot, almond milk, caramel mocha with no whip that he finds it on the bulletin board.

‘Need a witch’s services?’ is written across the top of a piece of printer paper in large letters, followed by ‘Call Brooklyn’s Best Bitches for all your witchy needs! We provide spells, amulets, potions, mild jinxes, exorcisms, stitch witchery, recipes to capture a lovers attentions (NO LOVE SPELLS!) and can even take care of your plants! Enquire today for all your magical needs.’

In which Steve's coffee pot is haunted and he needs to get a little help from magic to fix it.

Kitty Like Cushions and Puppy Kettles. (ao3) - halelujah bucky/tony T, 1k

Summary: Prompt:"i get a cold and when im sick i really can’t be around non-magic people but u show up at my door and i try to shoo u away but u come in and see my apartment but..." with sick!Tony and non magical!Bucky?

Let Me Inside You (Into Your Room) (ao3) - chaosmanor, KitChaosFic steve/bucky E, 60k

Summary: Bucky knew. He knew, and he still wanted Steve.

“I want to,” Steve said, because that was why he was there, wasn’t it? To stop trying to die? To find out how to live? To be more than the monster in his head?

nectar of the gods (and witches too) (ao3) - spacebuck steve/bucky E, 26k

Summary: Or: the one where Steve owns a coffee shop, Bucky’s a greenwitch, and neither of them are okay, but they’re trying to be.

Something So Familiar (ao3) - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) steve/bucky G, 6k

Summary: When Bucky was seven the Training Masters told him he had no magic, no potential, that he’d never be a witch. It wasn’t a surprise. Witches came from certain families and a certain class, just like magic was sterile and ordered and familiars were obedient and servile. That was simply the way the world worked.

Bucky grew up and got on with living his mundane life, knowing he was one hundred percent magic free. Which meant it came as something of a shock when the familiar appeared in his living room, claiming Bucky was his witch. It meant the Masters had been wrong. It meant Bucky had magic.

It meant, just maybe, that wasn’t the way the world had to work after all.

Stop On Green (ao3) - Catchclaw steve/tony T, 715

Summary: It wasn’t Tony’s fault that he turned Steve into a cat.

Well, it was his fault, but it wasn’t his fault.

Storming the Witch's Castle (ao3) - JacarandaBanyan steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: The Scarlet Witch rains terror down upon the land. All who stand in her way suffer her wrath.

After his husband is captured and presumably killed by the Scarlet Witch, Steve leads a small group of fighters for one last Hail Mary shot at taking her down, once and for all.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling (ao3) - galwednesday steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: (Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who’s new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

The Little Witch in the Woods (ao3) - bugsandcoffee steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Bucky was content in his little cottage in the woods, he loves practicing magic and cuddling his cat Alpine. Then one day an injured werewolf shows up on his doorstep and Bucky finds something else to love.

Witchcraft (ao3) - MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne) bucky/steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: Tony & Bucky accidentally summon a demon

Witch Hunt (ao3) - Candy_Kittens steve/bucky N/R, 45k

Summary: It’s 1735, and Bucky Barnes is being hunted down for being a witch - which to be fair, is exactly what he is.

[hoozoo]

Based on this conversation I had on twitter - I just really had this very clear image of Steve struggling with two huge plotted pants in my head and I’m so happy I really??? managed to get that across!! Especially since it was suprisingly quick and just SO MUCH FUN to draw!

Spiraling on from that first idea I’ve kind of blown this out into a full Apprentice Plant Witch(tm) Steve Rogers AU 🌱🌿 -- here are the most important notes that I left my friend cinni on discord at early ass o’clock while she was still sleeping BUT I NEEDED TO GET IT OFF MY CHEST:

🌱 Steve as an apprentice plant witch     -- too powerful but can't control it yet, has to go with huge plants 

🌱 beefy plant nerd Bucky     -- big 👏 man 👏 gentle 👏 hands 👏

(on twitter)

[natashas-girl]

If you’re happy

A/n: Hey! This is one of my first fanfics about natasha, i hope u like it!

Summary: Natasha falls out of love with you and in love with somebody else. . .

"Natasha?" You called, "you in here?" It was a tradition of sorts. Whenever you came home from work, you would call out to your girlfriend in your apartment (she was always there, and if she wasn't she'd text you. Looking up, you saw that she was on the couch braiding a girl with pale skin and a hard expression's dark hair.

"right here, honey," she said, blowing a kiss in your direction.

"Who's that?" You asked, curious of the cute stranger.

"This is my friend Maria from. . . Work" she replied.

Maria gave her a side glance, and a teasing smile, "work, huh. Does she know  where you work?"

"No," you muttered.

"Well. . ." Natasha paused, "i think it would be better if you let me explain a little bit later. Oh, and do you mind if Maria stays for dinner?"

NO she did not just change the fucking subject

"Sure, I'll order now. Where?"

"We haven't had In-n-out for a while." 

"Sure, Umm. . . What do you want?" You asked Maria. 

"Oh, I'll just take a veggie burger with pickles," she laughed.

"'Kay" you said, feeling awkward.

-the literal time skip because i can-

Later that night, when you were laying in bed with Natasha,  you asked her, "where do you work?"

"I-" she stuttered, "I'm an- I'm an Avenger, y/n, I'm black widow." 

"Wait," you said, the wheels turning in your brain, "so does that mean that Maria was. . . The Maria hill? And you work with iron man and Carol Danvers and Hulk and-"

"Scarlet witch and Falcon and captain America." She joked tiredly.

"Who?" You asked

"Scarlet witch? You mean the one who does the weird hand things?"

"No, I've heard of her. Who's Captain America?"

"You mean. . . Steve rogers? Captain America? You've never heard of him?" She cackled, "oh, Steve's going to die when he hears that."

"Film it," you advised.

"Don't worry, i will." She planted a kiss on your cheek. "But first we should sleep."

And so, you fell asleep safe and happy in your girlfriend's arms.

-Time skip-

*reflecting*

Through the next week, Maria was there every time that you came back from work. Once it was raining so much that she had to stay the night. You could tell how happy Natasha was when she was there, And every time you thought of her happiness, a small smile crept to your face. Once, you almost got fired from your job at Starbucks because you zoned out thinking about Natasha. 

I see the way that her eyes light up when you make her laugh. 

I see all the ways she makes you smile that i never could.

I see how you look at her when you think she isn't looking, when I'm standing in the doorway and you don't see me there.

And i know that you would love to love her, but you could never break my heart

But love is a roller coaster, it has its ups and downs, and some roller coasters break down

And when a roller coaster breaks down, you either get on another one or you never go on a roller coaster again. 

And you don't understand, thAt if you weren't happy, my heart would already be broken

And I would shatter my heart a thousand times to keep yours whole

Because sometimes loving someone is letting them go.

*end of reflecting*

"Natasha." You said, pulling your girlfriend into a closet.

"I need to talk to you about Maria."

"What? Y/n, you know i would never-"

"Natasha, i know that you're a good person. I know that you would never cheat. But i see the way you look at her. And those glances that she sneaks at you. And that's why. . ." You couldn't say it. But. . . Natasha would be happy. And that was all that matters. "That's why. . ." You blinked back tears, "that's why I'm breaking up with you."

"What- but y/n, i- thats not- i-" she stuttered, clearly not expecting thighs.

"Natasha just, please. . ." You begged. "Ask Maria out. Please. Just let me go."

You left the closet before she could argue. Because, loving someone is letting them go.

Because, loving someone is spending a lifetime of heartbreak so that they don't have to spend a lifetime pretending they don't love somebody else.

Because, even after all this

You

Still

Love 

Her

Your didn't feel your heart shatter until you hit the highway.

That was a fun way to take my depression out! 

[romanoffsbish]

Chapter 12: Suit Up

Chapter 11 | Masterlist | Chapter 13 | Words: 1,395

Nat's POV

I arrived to the meeting room at 8:30AM to get it all set up.

"Hey there boss!" Wanda jokingly condescends in greeting.

"Witch, welcome!" I snarl back playfully.

"Listen, word on the street is Tony's trying to sabotage everything by further turning Steve against Y/N." Wanda says getting straight to it.

"Well, he can shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Steve knows how to behave so we should all be okay."

"Nat, I just think we need to be safe.."

"What's it even about? What could he possibly even have to have added fuel to the dying fire?"

"Apparently he's convinced that she's broken into your room."

"That's ridiculous!" I laugh out, knowing that nobody can get into my room if I don't want it.

"Oh, Tony's just an idiot, I'll fix this." I state nonchalantly. I receive a nod and raised eyebrow in response as Wanda just takes her seat.

He clearly saw her go in to get my suit, and tried to use it against her. I'm truly offended that they would ever think they could 'break in' to my room.

Who do they think I am? An idiot?

"You are an idiot sometimes." Wanda interjects.

"Hey! Stay out of my head." I growl.

"Your thoughts are screaming. I'm not actively trying to hear them. So maybe try shutting them up because some of your thoughts are even too dirty for me..."

"Listen, I'm just nervous... I need this to go well."

"I understand Nat, I'm on the same team here."

"I just need everyone to see her the way that we do." I mumble.

"I want that too..."

An uneasy silence falls over the room while we await the others. A minute passes and then Steve walks in.

"Hey ladies!" Steve greets as he walks in.

"Rogers." I curtly greet, Wanda just nods.

"Is something the matter?" Steve questions us.

"Not for us, are you projecting? Is something bothering you?" I pettily question.

"Actually..."

As he's clearly about to say something I don't want to hear Y/N walks in with a beaming smile.

"Hey guys." She greets enthusiastically.

Steve seems to just scowl and sink into his seat.

"Hey Y/N/N!" Wanda greets back with a similar enthusiasm.

"Welcome to the meeting Stevens. Also, thank you for bringing me my suit from my room earlier, I never got the chance to thank you." I say in an attempt to remedy any further doubts Tony put into Steve's head.

"Of course Agent Romanoff." Y/N says, obviously moving into a formal tone, but just hearing it makes me internally cringe.

"So, today's mission is characterized as a 'simple' extraction, but it very much could go haywire. Hydra's unpredictable, and in this sense, they're further off their rockers. They've taken a handful of civilians as hostages to run trials on them. We're meant to go in and take out the enemy, while extracting the hostages. Upon retrieving the individuals we're meant to also destroy the base. Steve, you're taking point with Y/N to directly save the hostages. I'll be initially placing the bombs on the perimeter. Wanda's our eyes, ears, and backup muscle power. The base is expected to be pretty guarded. Keep your guards up, be prepared with loads of ammo, and leave all distractions behind." I finish, glancing at Steve with an intimidating glare.

After a moment of silence, I make sure to open the floor to questions.

Before anyone inside the briefing can say anything Tony comes through the speaker.

"Ooh! Are we finally returning the plant to sender?"

I am internally combusting, especially after seeing Y/N's resolve fall for a millisecond, as well as Steve eyes fill with slight amusement.

I keep my stoic face and go to reply.

"That fern by your lab is pretty tacky, did you keep the receipt?"  Wanda condescends.

"Stark, you're not on this mission, leave your petty antics out of my briefing!" I assert.

He seemed ready to reply, but the glare I sent the camera seems to have shut him up. Good!

"So, Agent Romanoff, is it just the four of us?" Y/N inquires.

"No, it's us four, and a quinjet of SHIELD agents. It's not crucial enough to require all the avengers, but it's also not safe enough to not have an array of backup." I reply.

"That's good. Thank you. I know this base well, and it's not going to be an easy feat." Y/N replies.

Steve seemed to perk up at this information.

"So, Stevens, you know this base?"

"Yes, it's where I spent the last twenty years of my life. Pretty poetic that it's my first mission." She chuckles out trying to ease the tension.

Steve seemed ready to add onto Tony's snark, but Wanda and I both sent him quite the glare.

"Any other questions? About the mission that is." I flatly inquire.

"No ma'am." Y/N replies with a sweet smile.

"All good here." Wanda quips.

"Nope." Steve coughs out timidly, clearly affected by my tone.

"Well, if that's all, go suit up, and meet down by the hangar. Wheels up in thirty." I assert.

Everyone leaves, and I allow about sixty seconds to pass by before I run out and towards her room.

Y/N's POV

I could feel Steve's animosity radiating off of him, and I'm starting to understand Buck's reservations. However, I can handle myself, so I push back the sinking feeling in my gut.

I stepped into my room and sat on my bed, just giving myself a minute to breathe. I'm already in my suit, and I have all my weapons prepared to go.

As I closed my eyes, I took in a deep breath, and as I went to release it, it turned into a shriek as my door slammed into the wall.

"Shit! Nat, what the hell." I squeak out.

"I remember saying suit up, not take a nap." She jokingly quips, sending her signature smirk.

"Well, Agent Romanoff, I'm extremely prepared, so I chose to meditate." I quip right back as I point to my readied weaponry.

Her face softens slightly as she closes my door and approaches me.

"Hey, are you sure you're ready? Please don't feel pressured into this mission. It's okay if it's too soon, I don't want you getting hurt out there." She starts to say, reaching up to settle her hand on my shoulders, and I can see the panic building up in her eyes.

"Natty, calm down. I'm just your average amount of nervous as one should be going into a mission." I reply, reaching up to push the hair  that's fallen behind her ear. 

"Promise?" She questions, with worried eyes.

"Promise!" I reply, reaching my pinky up so we can seal it.

"Dork." She laughs out, while linking our pinkies, bringing it up so we could kiss our own hands, to double lock it in.

"Softie." I say, reaching out and pulling her in for a hug, where I feel her completely melt into it.

She clings to me, and doesn't seem to be willing to let go. A whole ten minutes flies by, while I am running my hand up and down her back in an attempt to reassure her.

"Natty, you got to let go now." I giggle, knowing we have ten minutes before we're expected downstairs.

"Two more minutes, please." She pleads, in the softest, most vulnerable tone I think I've ever heard her use.

"Okay, just so long as we're not late." I whisper in response, placing a gentle kiss to her temple and rocking us side to side.

Much like last time, I have to stand up, and physically remove her from me.

Before I could speak, there's a quick knock on my door, then it slams open much like before.

"Let's go lovebirds!" Wanda jokes, while contradicting herself by walking in and pulling us into a bone crushing hug.

"Remind me to lock my door from now on." I mumble as we pull back.

"Ha! I can pick locks."

"I can use my 'wiggly woos' to undo it."

"So, what I'm hearing is that I'll never have privacy again." I groan, throwing my weaponry over my shoulder and departing.

"Exactly!" They giggle out in unison, following me down to the hangar.

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | earth's tiniest heroes. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

series masterlist

event | stuffies for all

summary | after learning to make finger puppets, willa makes a special trip to the tower with gifts in hand for all her friends.

pairing | willa rogers (oc) x the avengers

warnings | written from steve’s pov, just willa being the sweetest little being that ever did exist, so fluffy and cute and adorable, steve is the proudest dad ever, willa made one for tony even tho he takes a “trip” when he hears they’re coming :’^)

“You’re first, Peter!” Willa cheers excitedly as she sits in the center of the circle the group’s formed around her on the rug of the fiftieth floor’s living space. Reaching into her ladybug backpack, she pulls out a Spiderman-themed puppet, complete with little webs made of string coming from the hands.

“Oh wow, Wil- this is so cool!” Peter’s eyes widen in awe as he takes the gift from the little girl to hold carefully in his hands, appearing too worried he might break something to put it on.

“C'mon, goes on your finger!” the child giggles as she helps her friend place the piece of fitted red fabric over his pointer finger, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“Wow, it looks just like my spidey suit!” the teen enthuses as he wiggles his finger, “you did such a great job! Thank you, Willa.”

After giving her best friend a quick hug, she moves on to the next person in the circle, her now great pal, the God of Thunder. When the girl reaches into her bag and pulls out a very mighty-looking Asgardian puppet with a tiny hammer dangling from its hand, Thor’s face fills with delight as he tells her, “That is a marvelous looking creation, little friend. Is that meant to be me?”

“Yes!” Willa beams, bouncing excitedly in front of her ginormous friend. “And even has your hammer, look! Thor puppet’s worthy, too!”

“He is, indeed,” the god marvels as he places the puppet on his finger, a brilliant smile gracing his face as his gaze meets the child’s. “Thank you, Willa. I shall treasure him forever.”

Wanda’s next, an excited gasp leaving the older girl as she watches the little one pull a Scarlet Witch puppet from her bag. “Oh my goodness, Willa. This is so stunning. You made my outfit just right,” she gushes as she slips the puppet on. “It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you so much.”

Nat’s face softens when she sees a Black Widow puppet being taken out next, her black leather stealth suit catching her eye as she grins at the little girl, “Now that’s a good-looking puppet. I’d know that suit anywhere- how’d you make it look so much like me?”

“Daddy helped,” Willa smiles happily as she hands over the gift, her face lighting up as Nat puts it on to show the group.

“Well your Daddy has great taste in leather,” Nat winks at me as Willa moves on, pulling out a scruffier-looking puppet with messy brown hair, a tiny bow and arrow attached to one of the hands.

“Hey- I know that guy!” Clint chimes in as he graciously accepts the present from the girl. “Thanks a ton, kiddo! This rocks- I gotta show the kids when they call tonight!”

“Say hi to Lila for me,” Willa requests with a smile as she gives the archer a hug before returning to her bag, the next puppet she pulls wearing a blackish-red outfit with a wide set of wings.

“Aww, hell yeah,” Sam cheers, brows flaring playfully as he catches his own slip-up. “I mean- awesome, that looks awesome, sweetheart. You make this just for me?”

“Jus’ for you, Sammy!” Willa confirms happily as she helps her friend wiggle the little figure onto his finger. “Look, can make him fly!” she shows him by moving his hand through the air in swooping motions.

“Now that’s really awesome,” the man laughs, planting a kiss on the girl’s temple as he wraps her in a hug. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’m gonna put him right up on my dresser next to Redwing; they’re gonna look sick together.”

“Totally sick!” Willa agrees as she returns to her bag, pulling out one of the last puppets from the bottom. “This one’s special, he’s got a PhB.”

“D,” I correct her with a chuckle, the faces around the circle filling with love and amusement as they watch the little girl hold up the black-haired puppet dressed in a lab coat.

“A PhD,” the child repeats, “and a s'ethescope.”

“That must be for me, then!” Bruce pipes up as he scoots closer to the girl to accept the present. Once it’s secured onto his finger, he wiggles it a big, joking, “Have you been eating your apples, Ms. Willa?”

“Every day!” she promises with a light-hearted giggle. When she peers back into her bag once more, though, something shifts on her face, a bit of sadness shining in her eyes as she looks up at me. “Daddy?” she asks quietly.

“What’s up, lovebug?” I murmur gently, moving up to join her in the middle of the circle. Cheeks turning pink, the little girl opens up her bag for me to look inside. When I catch sight of the last puppet at the bottom, my heart breaks a little in my chest. I didn’t even know she had made one more.

“Tony’s on a trip, sweetheart,” I tell her softly, pulling her onto my lap as I rub her back carefully, “but that was so thoughtful for you to make one for him, too. I bet we can leave it here for him, and he’ll get it whenever he comes back.

Looks of sadness and patient understanding have formed around the circle as Bruce scoots in near us, offering, "Here, I can keep it safe for him. Wow- you made him a lab coat just like me! He’s gonna love that we’re matching.”

“P'omise you’ll give it to him?” the girl asks carefully.

“Promise,” he nods, tucking the puppet safely into his pocket. “He’s gonna think it’s so cool, Willa. I’ll bet he wishes he could’ve been here to see you today, maybe you can see him next time.”

series masterlist

[mcuwritin]

Mission gone wrong II

Part 1

Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

genre: angst

warnings: blood, death, injury (let me know if I should add more)

word count: 1600+

12.12.2022.

You were never allowed on a missions that involved Avengers. Every agent Hydra had faced them at least once, but not you. You were held as far away from them as possible. And that, for some reason, frustrated you to no end. You were not used to feeling anything besides anger and pain, but whenever you saw someone head out on a mission against the Avengers you felt a weird pull in your chest. Almost like... longing? But you've never met them so it didn't make any sense. You can't miss someone you don't know.

But then they changed their mind.

You were training the newest set of recruits, when Vlad, a particularly cruel supervisor, told you to start packing. You were heading to the States.

You started your mission right after the darkness settled.

Defense system of the building that houses The Avengers is laughable. It took you exactly three minutes to bypass it. Maybe that's because they think no one would dare to trespass or maybe you're just that good.

They're pathetic, said the voice in your head. Sometimes you felt like it didn't belong to you. You wondered if the fury inside you didn't belong to you either. What if it was simply planted inside your head?

Passing by the elevators you turned to head up the stairs. Your footsteps silent, your body hidden in the shadows. After reaching the 6th floor you waited until the camera turned to face the other way to move further. Pathetic.

Compound was empty, safe for the man who built it and some agents, who could never pose a threat. Not to you.

You've been injected with what Hydra spent decades trying to perfect. You became their perfect weapon, silent and deadly. You've never failed a mission, always coming back successful. But it was never enough for Hydra, so each time you came back, they tried to make you even better.

Sometimes you thought about not coming back, but the pain caused by such thoughts was so intense and unbearable, you couldn't even move an inch, let alone run away.

Just as you reached the door to Stark's laboratory you hesitated. Hand that held the knife in your hand shook slightly. You wondered what the anxious feeling in your chest meant. But you can't afford distractions, not now.

You went in.

There, hunched over some blueprints, stood the Iron Man. He was in here for the past three days and you wondered what was so important to keep him here day and night.

He didn't look like his usual self. His goatee grown out and his closes were crumpled. There was an untouched mug with an AC/DC logo. You felt a pang in your chest when you noticed the writing just under the letters.

Sorry for the one I broke!

Y/n.

You knew of every Avenger and Shield agent living in the compound, but you've never heard of Y/n. Is she the newest addition to the team? If so, you need to report about her to Vlad. Maybe he'll be happy enough to let you go without a beating.

"Hey, kid." Stark said turning around.

You remained silent, stepping closer and closer to your target.

"Not going to say anything?"

"No." You replied.

He smiled and crossed his arms, leaning against the table. He didn't attempt to reach for his suit and he didn't try to notify someone of your presence.

"I knew you'd come once the compound was clear of the rest of the team. Hydra's been watching me for the past six months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Hoped they would send you. I'm glad I was right."

"So you have a death wish. How cute." Your voice devoid of any emotion. You are running out of time.

You raised the hand with a knife in it, ready to slice his throat clean when Stark spoke up again.

"What about Wanda?"

You stopped. You heart skipped a beat and then another one and then it started to hammer against your chest with a newfound strength. You hands strated shaking again.

"Are you going to kill her too?"

"Who's Wanda?" You said, trying to remember why her name has such a strong effect on you.

"You always introduce her as the love of your life." He replied inching closer to you. Only now you noticed a syringe with a bluish liquid in it squeezed in his left hand.

You immediately grabbed his wrist so tight that his bones broke. He dropped the syringe on the ground and pushed away, outstretching his right hand to catch the flying glove of his suit.

You tried to catch it, but the defence mechanism in it sent a blast at you. You almost managed to get out of the way, but your back got badly burned, revealing your vibranium bones.

"What did they do to you?" Stark asked, terrified. He got both of his now gloved hands trained on you, wincing whenever he tried to move the left one.

"They made me better." Was all you said, before launching yourself at him.

He tried to dodge your blows, but he is nowhere as fast as you are.

You tore off the right glove, feeling a pang of guilt when you noticed his pained expression.

Before he could even think about using his injured hand you plunged the knife right into his heart, your hand jerking slightly just before it pierced his skin. You didn't bother checking for his pulse, needing to get out of this place as soon as possible.

Mission accomplished.

Why do you feel like a part of you just died?

03. 03. 2023.

The cold wind ruffled your hear, distracting you for a second. You've been in the position whole day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The roof you occupied is empty, closed for construction.

You were more than a thousand feet away from your target. There's a gathering in what used to be the Stark tower, the Avengers and some government officials are meeting to discuss something rather important.

You adjusted your grip on the rifle, not daring to put it down even for a moment. You can't miss the moment Black Widow comes out for a breath of fresh air. Recently she's been doing it a lot. Pathetic.

You've spent the past month studying her, looking for the best way to take her out. Since Stark's death the Avengers were rarely seen alone and Natasha Romanoff was always in the company of Steve Rogers. You knew you'd have no problem killing her if she was alone, but with Captain America by her side she might defeat you. You were willing to try, but Vlad didn't let you.

"There's also a witch, she will get into your head if you come too close." He said on a briefing.

"I've never heard of her. Who is she?"

"Briefing is over. Valentina is waiting for you in the lab."

You were pulled out of your head when you noticed the movement just in front of the balcony. Black Widow opened the door, ready to step out, but someone put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

You were getting impatient waiting for the conversation between the two to end so the spy could finally step out of the protection of the bulletproof glass.

The door finally opened letting out the spy and another woman.

A woman that looked too familiar for your liking.

Wanda.

Ever since your last mission you couldn't get her name out of your head.

You became unstable when you got back from the compound and they had to wipe you again.

You woke up with her name on your lips.

Is she the witch Vlad was warning you about?

You saw them hug on the balcony. It looks like Wanda is crying and you don't know why, but you felt the strongest urge to wrap her into your arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. You need to make sure that your girlfriend is fine.

Your... Your girlfriend?

Your hands relaxed their hold in the rifle, ready to turn and run as fast as you can, but before you could move insufferable pain shot through your skull, rooting you in place. Your vision blurred and you legs gave out under your weight.

You felt your hands involuntary reach for the rifle again, adjusting the aim.

No. No. No.

It's Natasha! You can't hurt her. She is the one who welcomed you into the family. She is the one who introduced you to Wanda. She is the one who helped you pick out the ring.

And you... you killed the person who felt like a father to you. You killed Tony with your bare hands.

The pain shooting through you body is not allowing you to breathe anymore and your hands are adjusting the position of the rifle.

You need to stop.

You need to complete the mission.

They're still on the balcony, you have enough time to aim and pull the trigger.

Pull the trigger and the pain will stop.

You tried to stop, you tried to scream and cry, but your body didn't belong to you anymore.

You felt like you were in a passenger seat of car, that was going off the road.

You can't do anything now.

You tried as hard as you could to stop your finger from pulling the trigger, but you still saw the bullet hit your best friends chest.

You couldn't hear Wanda's scream from this distance, but you felt it pierce your heart.

The pain went away.

Your mission is done.

-

They left you in your cell to rot in your grief.

At this point you didn't feel anything. You didn't feel the pain in your heart and your head. You were numb.

And then you were terrified.

They're going to wipe you again. You'll forget everything again and they'll make you kill another Avenger.

You started scratching the floor with your nails, trying to write the dates before they wiped you again.

They will make you kill Wanda.

_________________________________________

Sorry it took me so long.

Feedback is appreciated 💞

tags: @marvels-writings @kermy48

[ancientwastedlores]

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms​): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none. 

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling” 

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it. 

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order. 

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan.  ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon.  ‘I’m smarter’ you say.   ‘I went to MIT’  ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’. 

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh. 

‘How far along are you?’ you ask.  ‘Still running diagnostics’.  ‘Still!?’  ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’  ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’. 

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap. 

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’.  ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work. 

xx

Loki’s POV: 

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people. 

Take the Avengers Tower, for example. 

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality. 

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps. 

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game. 

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’ 

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes. 

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says.  ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’. 

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’  ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’. 

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away. 

‘We could play?’ I ask her.  ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’  ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’. 

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’  ‘Problem?’  ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’. 

She says nothing. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would. 

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’. 

And she carries on, unbothered. 

‘Y/n!’  ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’ 

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked. 

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’.  ‘Sure, darling’. 

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this. 

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that. 

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’  ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says.  ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich. 

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy. 

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended. 

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’.  ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says.  ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required. 

And so she called me. 

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard. 

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’  ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses.  ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’. 

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles. 

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance. 

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows. 

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy. 

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her. 

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall. 

She spins the glaive and laughs. 

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’. 

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres. 

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled. 

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’. 

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones. 

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’.  ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’  ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’ 

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds? 

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’. 

Silence. 

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’. 

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning. 

No problem. Cunning is my specialty. 

‘Ready now?’ she asks.  ‘Mhm’. 

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock. 

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin. 

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen. 

The illusion disappears into green light. 

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’  I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’. 

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will. 

-------------

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’.  ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’  ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’. 

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable. 

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks. 

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’. 

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n.  ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’. 

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter. 

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’. 

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’. 

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’  ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand. 

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed. 

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’  ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again. 

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3 

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

[anika-ann]

Stockings (S.R.)

Type:  Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4​ ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.  

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

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S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

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I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*

[mkstrigidae]

Current WIPs and Fic Concepts

I promised I would do this yesterday, and then I forgot!!! (I was very sleep deprived). Anyways, here are a bunch of the WIP premises that I have in my 'unfinished drafts' folder. Most have at least a few pages written for them, but I love them all! ☺️💕

- A Santa Clarita Diet AU (Jonsa) Takes place in sunny southern California, where a shitty dinner at a mediocre restaurant turns into a huge problem for Jon and Sansa when Sansa's heart stops beating. Although she seems fine, Jon is flabbergasted several days later as he watches his wife- who alphabetizes their pantry and refuses to let anyone wear shoes in the house- rip the throat out of one of the sleazy new partners at their law firm, eating half of him before anyone processes what's going on. Hilarity ensues as Sansa's inhibitions and filter disappear, Arya ropes an extremely confused Gendry into helping figure out what the hell is going on just because he moderates the zombie forum on reddit, and Jon tries to deal with the fact that the woman he loves more than anything is now a humanitarian. He really could use a drink. (This one is actually mostly complete, but i need to refine a few things- i really love it. It's as gory and irreverent as the show, so viewer discretion advised, but it's a BLAST to write).

- A Thor/MCU AU (Jonsa, Steve Rogers/Sansa)- Asgardian prince Aegon is banished to Midgard after one too many arrogant decisions, and is promptly hit by a van containing Dr. Sansa Stark, Dr. Barristan Selmy, and Margaery Tyrell- two astrophysicists studying wormholes and Sansa's best friend and pseudo-intern. Marg yells at him, he yells back, Sansa tases him, and Barristan didn't sign up for the kind of heavy lifting that getting a 200+ pound slab of muscle into the back of a van takes. And then Aegon's younger brother, Jon, shows up, in the middle of an identity crisis because, apparently, he's adopted. He wasn't intending to stay, but he's rather drawn to Dr. Stark and her brilliance, and against her better judgement, she starts to trust him, and maybe even like him. This story is in about three parts so far- the first is based on 'Thor' and the second on 'The Avengers' and are fully Jonsa, and the third started as a family bonding story between the Stark kids and Tony (Ned and Tony are second cousins, and Ned was really supportive of Tony in rehab without expecting anything in return), and accidentally turned into a Steve Rogers/Sansa Stark story, which is a pairing i am HERE for. A lot of this one is written, but it needs some fill in before publishing, although it's one of my favorites that i've written to go back and actually read.

- A Star Wars AU (Jonsa) where Sansa and Arya are Alderaanian princesses who are off planet when Alderaan is destroyed- Sansa as a senator and Arya as a pilot, both working for the rebellion, and jon is a smuggler who does not know how all of these people got on his ship and why two princesses are sassing him. His copilot, Tormund (yes he's a wookie), thinks it is hilarious. I started this one just the other day, and it's already thirty pages long, most of them involving Sansa and Arya sassing people. Dany is a leader in the rebellion, Roose Bolton is the emperor, and Barbrey Dustin is a disgruntled former jedi trying to live in peace on a remote planet until another Stark crashes into her life and harangues her into teaching again.

- A witches/magic AU (Jonsa) where the Starks run an apothecary and spellcasting supplies shop. Jon had been completely in the dark about magic before his mother confessed to being born into a family of witches. He finds himself traveling to her hometown, trying to understand her world more clearly, and what it means for him. On the way, he develops something of a crush on the red-headed shop clerk who brews the best headache potions in town. Featuring lots of magical shenanigans, this is one of my favorites in the folder :)

- A 24 hour diner AU (Jonsa) where Jon is a local mob boss, and Sansa works the late shift at Seaworth's diner to buy textbooks for the PhD she's working on in botany. Sansa's running from memories, and Jon has a soft spot for the red-headed waitress who always remembers how he likes his coffee.

- An East of the Sun, West of the Moon AU!!! (Jonsa) This is one of my fav fairy tales, and of course i couldn't resist Jon as a direwolf striking a deal with the starks!

- A Roomates AU (Jonsa)- Arya, Jon, Tormund, and Sam have been renting the same house together off Winterfell's campus for years- but when Sam moves in with his girlfriend, they need one more person on the lease. Sansa, about to relocate to Winterfell for grad school, finds out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her and that her housing plans have fallen through, all on the same day. Needless to say, she's a bit upset when she calls Arya to relay the news. There's a simple solution here, if Arya and Tormund can stop teasing Jon about his crush for five minutes. (any excuse to write tormund and arya roasting jon, tbh).

- A Fae AU (Jonsa)- When Sansa, a baker living in the city, washes her face in an enchanted spring on a camping trip, she gains the sight as a result. Suddenly able to see the fae underworld all around her is disorienting and terrifying. Sansa tries to conceal it- afraid of what might happen if the fae around her know that she can see them- but slips up, and catches the attention of Jon Snow- one of the lords of the unseelie court.

- A nuclear winter wasteland AU (Jonsa)- (?? I don't even know how to describe this premise, haha) where the Starks are living and running the Free Winterfell settlement in Siberia after a worldwide nuclear meltdown. Before the fallout, Sansa was one of the world's preeminent researchers in plant genetics and pathology, and works at the settlement to create newer, disease and radiation resistant crops to distribute for free to other settlements, aiming to break up the monopoly that Lannister Corp has on the market. Jon is a scavenger, searching throughout Siberia for his sister Rhae who disappeared several years previously. When he runs across Arya Starkovna, helping her fight off another band of radiation ravaged scavengers is just instinct- he doesn't think twice about it. In thanks, she brings him to the Winterfell settlement, where her brother Robb offers Jon sanctuary and resources, in exchange for serving as a bodyguard for Sansa when she travels to other settlements. Sansa is not particularly thrilled by this arrangement, but given that multiple parties seem to want her dead, she doesn't have much of a choice but to accept his company.

- A reincarnation AU (Jonsa)- of sorts. Robb is an archaeologist who finds a strange set of runes at a site up north, and immediately calls in Jon Snow- a historian and expert in said ancient language, as well as an old university friend of Robb's. When he arrives though, Robb shows him their most valuable finds- two mysterious ice blocks, with what appear to be perfectly preserved bodies from over a thousand years ago. No one could ever have imagined that either of them were still alive, but when the ice melts, revealing two very alive girls, the entire crew is instantly buried in NDAs, and given an assignment from the Westerosi government to figure out what the hell was going on. Sansa and Arya wake up, extremely confused about the world they live in, trying to adapt and mourning all that they've lost, even as the people around them wear familiar faces.

- Soulmates AU (Jonsa)- (Yes, another one, I love this dumb trope) Trauma surgeon and medical resident Sansa Stark is having a very bad day, and ends up meeting her soulmate during what she thinks is a mugging gone wrong. Fortunately, he’s not the one mugging her, just an intervening bystander, but she ends up slightly shot nonetheless. Sansa’s fretting about bleeding on the upholstery in his car, but Jon is a bit more worried about her injuries than the blood stains. He’s a bit confused when she threatens him if he takes her to a specific hospital, nearly has a nervous breakdown when she insists on doing her own triage, and is very charmed when she insists on ice cream after taking pain meds at the hospital. On Sansa’s part, she’s a little less concerned about being shot, and a bit more concerned about whatever weird first impression she’s making to her soulmate while high as a kite on pain pills. (this one just needs some tweaking to be postable- I'm not sure if it's going to be a oneshot or a series, but i love what I have already)

- A Demon/Archivist AU (Jonsa)- where Sansa works in the university's historical archives in Oldtown, and is learning to restore old texts with her fellow student and friend, Alleras (Trans Sarella is an amazing concept). When Joffrey Baratheon shows up with a pile of old books from his family's library to donate, Sansa is eager to get away from his sleaze, and accidentally takes one of the books home with her in her rush to leave. Unbeknownst to her, it's more than it appears, and when she leaves it open overnight, she accidentally summons forth Jon- an ancient, powerful, and extremely annoyed demon who is under a curse, and now hers to command. As Jon and Sansa try to get used to this new normal, the Lannisters (unaware that Joffrey had donated the tome) try desperately to find the book and it's owner, wanting Jon's power for themselves, and putting Sansa in considerable danger unless she can figure out how to break Jon's curse. Fortunately, she's a pretty good researcher, even if Jon is initially a bit of a grump. (This is based on a total wish-fulfillment mary-sue type premise for something I wrote when I was thirteen, and I revisited it and wanted to see what it would look like if i took it very seriously, and i am really enjoying it so far. It's a love letter to the terrible, heartfelt writing i was doing in middle school that created the foundations for my writing today, and so much fun).

The one that I am MOST excited about though:

- A Pacific Rim AU!!!! (Ned/Cat, Gendrya, Braime, Sansa/Jon Umber)-Twins Sansa and Robb Stark have always been completely in tune with each other, and when your parents are Jaeger pilots and your mother invented the neural handshake, what option is there but the Jaeger academy? Sansa studies to be an engineer, but ends up copiloting the Jaeger 'Winter Wolf' with her twin brother, after they lose Ned Stark to cancer. When Robb is ripped out of the conn-pod and killed by a kaiju while he's still connected to Sansa, she barely manages to kill the creature before stumbling back to shore, traumatized, grieving, and swearing that she'll never pilot again.

Unfortunately, the Kaiju don't stop just because Sansa does, and when the end of the world is imminent, Marshall Catelyn Stark orders both her daughter and former pilot Jaime Lannister (who lost his twin and copilot, Cersei, several years previously) back to Hong Kong for one final stand. Forced to face both her demons and an irate Arya, furious that Sansa had abandoned the rest of them after Robb's death, Sansa and Arya have to figure out how to pilot Winter Wolf together before the apocalypse comes for them all.

Featuring Marshall Catelyn Stark (commander of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, inventor of the neural handshake, former Jaeger pilot, and BAMF), Sansa x Jon Umber (Yes i know it's a rare pair but i've always kind of loved the idea of them, even though we know so little about him), Kaiju parts dealer and smuggler Petyr Baelish, bickering kaiju biologist Dany and theoretical mathematician Jon Snow, LOCCENT officer Theon, lots of snark, lots of angst and heartfelt conversations, and a weird friendship between snarky-grieving-asshole Jaime Lannister and kind-quiet-grieving Sansa Stark, who are the only two people in the world who know what it's like to lose a copilot and a twin in the drift.

Thanks for reading guys!! There are more, but some of them I just don't know how to explain quite yet, haha. I'd love to hear what you guys think about these!

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses

Prologue

This is a slightly dark take on Sleeping Beauty, takes more inspiration from ‘The Sun, The Moon, and Talia’. @giorno-plays-piano​ gave me the inspiration with her Orc!Bucky story, Desire.

Summary: You and your twin sisters have constantly been told not to not to venture into the northwest tower, but it looked so inviting. Now you’ve doomed yourself and your sisters to sleep for 600 years and be woken up by orc-human hybrids and not the extremely handsome princes that your mother had all but assured you. Well, at least things can’t get any worse…right?

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 849

Warnings: Semi-Graphic Depictions of Violence, Smut, Non-Con. You’ve been warned.

Back to Masterlist

In a time and place not here and not now, there was a vast and powerful kingdom rich in precious metals, stones, agriculture, commerce, technology, and the arts.

The king and queen were beloved by the people…but they had no children. They tried for years, but to no avail. The populace was worried because while the king and queen were benevolent, the king’s brother, Prince Sophronius, was a nightmare.

After exhausting all other options, they went to a medical witch for a potion that would induce fertility. The queen gave birth to triplets ten months later to great joy and fanfare across the kingdom. They were named Ghada (graceful woman), Fumnanya (love me), and Y/N.

Ambassadors and dignitaries from all over attended the public naming ceremony. The most notable guests were the Fae. Each one gave all three princesses a gift: Supernatural Beauty, Intelligence and Curiosity, Enhanced Condition & Combat Prowess, Wit, Empathy, and would bring great fortune to their loved ones. The last Fairy was about to give her gift when the Dark Fairy crashed the event.

She claimed that she was not invited (in reality, she was paid by Sophronius) and gave the triplets a gift of her own. When they turn 18, one of them will go up to the Northwest Tower, find and prick her finger on a spindle, all three will die and the kingdom will fall. And with that, she cackled and left.

All seemed lost until that Last Fairy, Aoife, spoke up. She couldn’t fully undo the curse, but she could modify it. Instead of dying, they would fall into a deep slumber until they are awakened by a kiss from their match.

The king and queen took all the precautions. They had all textile production take place far from the capital and sealed the Northwest Tower (they tried to destroy it, but the Dark Fairy already had countermeasures put in place). All the Fae who gave the triplets their gifts became their tutors.

The princesses became quite the adorable and precocious trio, if not a little mischievous with their pranks and ‘adventures’ throughout the capital.

All three came to have warm russet-brown skin with coral undertones and long dark purple hair that cascaded in luxurious curls (think 3b/3c hair). Their only difference in appearance was their eyes. Ghada’s was Tropical Ocean Blue/Silver Hazel, Fumnanya’s Bright Gold/Dark Sepia Brown Hazel, and Y/N’s was Light Forest Green/Midnight Blue Hazel.

They were taught/trained in History, Math, Science, Engineering, Governance, Medicine, Combat, and the Arts. Anything to keep them busy, and they soaked it up like super sponges.

All was well with their lives…until puberty hit them like an armored elephant.

Everyone commented on how beautiful/stunning they were. Almost all of the boys and some of the girls would ask them out on dates. Some of the older men would give them lecherous stares and older women would give them glances of spite or pity. They started getting marriage offers at 14, but their parents, particularly their mother was adamantly against it. No negotiations would be made until they were certain the curse had passed.

The girls got annoyed and sad with the attention they received. They felt like they had so much to offer besides their beauty and wealth.

The girls themselves somehow all liked cooking, combat, and governance. Ghada was more outgoing and sociable and liked reading, languages, and the Arts. Fumnanya was more reserved, but pretty funny once you got passed her shell. She liked history, medicine, plants, and science. Y/N was pretty mischievous and she liked tech/engineering, math, science, and the Arts.

The whole kingdom was aglow with joy when the princesses’ 18th birthday finally arrived. The palace was busy getting ready for the birthday celebration. The servants decorated the place with their favorite colors, and the cooks were working on a fantastic feast of their favorite foods.

Everything was right on schedule until one of the guards heard a scream and a thud from the Northwest Tower.

All three princesses fell into a deep slumber and Aoife started working on the spell for the capital when Sophronius and his followers rushed in and killed the king.

That action soon led to a battle that lasted for three days. It ended with three of the Fae getting killed, but Sophronius not getting the throne and its riches (especially the Nephrashim Crystal). Almost all were banned from the capital except for the princesses.

Aoife refurbished their shared rooms and the palace. She had the capital nearly frozen in time; every 200 years would be an hour for the capital and one year for the princesses. She surrounded the capital with thick thorn bushes guarded by an ever-vigilant dragon and that was surrounded by forest and shrouded by mist.

Sophronius tried to send some of his men to awaken the princesses, but they kept getting killed by the dragon or the thorn bushes. He decided to cut his losses after ten years and move on.

The princesses faded into myth and it would be 600 years before anyone would lay eyes on them again.

@giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @imdarkinme​ @ne-gans​ @jtargaryen18​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @idk-mate-i-give-up​ @victoriastefanie04 @stargazingfangirl18​ @sherrybaby14​ @dahkness​ @life-of-yn​ @retroxvailles​ @aurora-stark-rogers-barnes​ @marvelfansworld​ @socially-awkward-insomniac​