#rooshallocream

[alicedopey]

The Wound Licker

Fandom: The Gray Man

Genre: AU, Dark, Smut-ish

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Plus-Size reader

Warnings: Dubious consent (groping, kissing) coercion, blackmail, Lloyd (he is a villain so he is a menace) These warnings are not to be taken lightly. Read at your own risk. 

Words: 3879

Summary: You go back to school for a reunion and meet a good old friend, Lloyd Hansen.

A/N: This fic was written for Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza thrown by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​.  Got the prompt: You run into an old friend but they’re nothing like the person you remember. I’m awfully late and I’m really sorry. Bear with me on this please because this is the first time I’m posting a dark fic. 

The main building of Harvard Law School was just as your remembered it; big, majestic, impressive, pompous… a golden cage which gave you so much, even though it was not your choice in the first place. You couldn’t deny that it offered you the status you had though and that was enough.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your dress, secured the strap of your handbag on your shoulder, squared up your shoulders for good measure and climbed up the stairs that led to the main entrance.

When you entered, you spotted the few tables aligned and the usual members of the welcoming committee that were sitting behind to greet all your fellow former students. You walked to the first one and put a smile on your face.

“Good evening. Welcome to the 2008 class reunion. May I have your name, please?”

You recognized one of the girls who attended many classes with you, but it was not surprising she did not remember you. None of them did – that is, until you stated your name.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You knew when it clicked in her brain. The glimmer of recognition in her eyes, the spark of interest, the wide fake smile. Each time, this wicked name fell out from your lips, it was the same hypocritical and unbearable number.

“Y/N, of course!” She exclaimed joyfully. “We had lots of classes together, remember?”

She handed out a sticker with your name on it. The temptation to pretend you did not remember her was strong but you just nodded and smiled as usual. You took the sticker and put it on your chest before entering the huge room where the reunion was taking place.

Inside, the crowd of former students were intently listening to the speech of the man you referred to as your father. His posture shifted and you knew he had probably spotted you the moment you came into the room and he would enjoy giving you a lecture about being late.

You drew near the stage and managed to find a spot hidden between two tall big guys. Out of your father’s sight, you took the time to admire the decorations and you had to admit the Harvard Law School Association had once again outdone themselves to live up to the school’s reputation and show off as much as they could. Not that Harvard was not one of the best universities, but the way it had been forced on you made it impossible to truly appreciate the value of the place.

A round of applause concluded your father’s speech and you joined them half-heartedly. Another famous alumnus took his place as you made your way to the bar to get a drink. The variety of cocktails they offered was enormous and tempting. You finally opted for a Moscow mule and checked the seating arrangements to find your table. A smile appeared on your lips when you read the name of the person who would be seated next to you and you felt a little bit better as you took the direction of your table.

Your smile widened as you saw him standing at the table, waiting for you. He had grown bigger; the hairdo had evolved and there was that weird furry thick line above his lip. But it was him.

“Lloyd Hansen!”

“In the flesh, cupcake.” He replied confidently with a smirk on his face. His overconfident tone surprised you but you smile when you heard the old nickname. He embraced you without any warning and you awkwardly hugged him back. It was nice to feel his toned chest against you and his hands softly caressing your back. It was a first since you’ve known him though. He was not usually that cuddly.

After a few minutes, he finally gave you some space even if his hands lingered on your ample hips.

“Look at you, Cupcake. You’ve…grown.” He squeezed the tender flesh. You couldn’t help feeling embarrassed but one look at his appreciative stare and the kind of embarrassment you felt shifted. Was he flirting with you? That was a first too. The two of you were quite close at college but it never turned flirty that way.

“And you’ve grown…a moustache.” You retorted, trying to change the subject.

“You like it?” He made it wiggle exaggeratedly.

“It suits you.” It did, strangely enough even if it gave him a strong porn movie director from the seventies vibe.

“Ladies love it. The tickling.” He winked and you found yourself giggling and hitting his chest playfully. What was wrong with you now?

He squeezed your hips once again. “I’m surprised you’re here, Cupcake. You usually never come to those reunion things.”

“I was asked to.” More like ordered to, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ah! Daddy didn’t want you to miss his important speech.” He snorted.

You frowned at his condescending tone. Even if he was right, he was clearly mocking the situation and you did not like it one bit. You did not remember him using this tone with you.

You took a few steps back and crossed your arms in front of your chest in a defensive stance. Lloyd’s arms fell limply on his side. His jaw ticked but he must have sensed you were upset because his tone was softer when he asked his next question.

“So… what have you been up to since graduation?”

“I’m a lawyer now.”

“Oh. Filling up your parents’ shoes, then? Wanna become a judge too?”

You winced. “Not exactly. I mostly work on civil cases: divorces, custodies… I even volunteer to help people who need counselling but can’t afford it. I know this doesn’t sound prestigious but I love it.” You concluded in a more confident tone. You were proud of what you had become, no matter what your parents or others could think.

Lloyd smiled and inched closer. “I’m not surprised.” He raised his hand to tuck a lock of hair that had escaped from your ponytail behind your ear. “You were always so nice, willing to please everyone. Willing to please me.”

Your cheeks got hot under his praise and actions. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine as his hand found his way to your cheek. You leaned into his touch and castigated yourself instantly. What was wrong with you? What was wrong with him?

He had never behaved this way before, at least not with you. He had quite the reputation back then but your relationship had always been friendly and innocent. Not that it was unpleasant but it made your feel uneasy. You were not used to this kind of attention. Once again, you stepped away from him.

“What about you? What have you been up to?” He smirked, clearly having sensed your discomfort. You tried to ignore it. “I bet you’re working with the police or something. You clearly were a man of action.” You remembered he was not a fan of all those laws but when it came to practicing, he was there.

“I tried but it was too boring. I was recruited by the CIA and I’ve worked for them for a few years.”

“Wow, CIA”. Your eyes widened. “That’s amazing. What are you doing now, then?”

“I’m still working with them but let’s say I’m a free agent. They call me for special missions.”

“Like when they desperately need help and no one else can do it?” You asked with a smile, still impressed but a new smirk appeared on his face and your smiled faltered.

“What I do can’t be taught so you could say that.  See… looks like we’re doing the same job. Helping those in need, just like we used to help each other in college.”

You full smile returned. Those were fond memories. Two misunderstood persons finding solace in each other.

The arrival of the waiters with the hors d’oeuvre put a stop to your conversation and you took your seats next to each other.

To say you had a bad time during the dinner would be a lie. The discussions with the other former students were nice and the meal was delicious. Llloyd was a pleasant company. To you, at least. He could be quite sharp and mocking with the other guests. He was blunt and even almost gross in his replies. That was new. You had heard about this side of him but had never witnessed it and it was… upsetting.

When it came to you though, he was as charming as possible. Very tactile, even. He constantly put his hand on your arm when he talked to you, his arm was nonchalantly thrown over the back of your chair which allowed him to touch your neck and shoulder. The signals were clear and after trying to resist, you let yourself drown into them, no matter what the outcome would be. It was nice to be the center of attention for something else than your name, their name, his name.

Overall, you had a great time. Then your father chose to come around and greet everyone. All of the students at your table raised from their seats at his approach and you felt obligated to do so as well. You watched him talking smoothly to everyone, slipping some advices here and there like a real mentor. You sighed, clearly exasperated by his little show.

“Hansen! Glad to see you there!” He held out his hand and Lloyd shook it firmly, answering with a simple. “Y/L/N.”.

No Sir, no deference, Lloyd did not seem impressed by his little show either. If your father saw it, he did not act like it and finally turned towards you.

“Glad to see you managed to leave your lost causes for a while to be there…even late.”

No hello, no happy to see you. Typical. Well, two could play that game.

“It’s not for everyone to work with criminals, Father.”

“It’s not for everyone to have higher ambitions, dear.” His patronizing tone made you sigh. “You should follow his path.” He added, pointing to Lloyd. “This man could teach you a few lessons.”

You frowned at his words and sat back down on your chair; defeated, hurt and furious. He ruined it. He ruined everything. This place where you were having a good time suddenly became a place to run away from. You strongly wanted to be back home and in your bed.

“This thing is boring.” Lloyd snorted as he sat back down next to you. “I’ll tell you what, Cupcake”. He lightly pinched your cheek to get your attention. “The hotel where I’m staying has a pretty good chef who makes the most amazing desserts. Maybe we could enjoy them together.”

You watched him doubtfully. “I don’t know Lloyd. It’s nice but I’m pretty tired…”

“Come on, Cupcake.” He cajoled you. “Aren’t you up for some sweet treat? You, me and some exquisite chocolate mousse. For old time’s sake.”

He clearly knew how to tempt you. You really needed this sweet boost and the idea to spend some time in his company was truly enticing. It was also very clear that his proposal was not innocent but some little excitement in your life could not be that bad.

“All right, let’s go.”

He leaned on you to kiss your cheek – rather the corner of your mouth. “Good girl.”

For the second time this evening, a pleasant shiver ran down your spine and you felt your cheeks warm up once again. It was just a kiss!

You cleared your throat to hide your embarrassment. “Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before we go?”

“Be my guest.”

You gave him a small smile, put your shoulder bag on and stoop up swiftly to make your way towards the restroom.

The place was deserted but it was not surprising in the middle of dinner time. You were about to get into a bathroom stall when someone pushed you against the nearest wall and a pair of lips attacked yours. You tried to free yourself from your assailant when you felt something hairy tickle your upper lip. Lloyd. The said person glided his tongue against your lips and you gladly granted him access as you gripped his shirt. The kiss was wild and savage, there was no gentleness and you liked that.

Soon, too soon, the need to breathe got strong and your lips had to get separated.

“I couldn’t wait any longer”. Lloyd’s breathed against your mouth.

“I’m not complaining”. You breathed back and closed your eyes in bliss as Lloyd sucked your neck while his hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs. He hooked one of your legs on his waist and your nails sank in the flesh of his neck, pushing him further against yours. He groaned and bit your skin in response. You let out a wispy moan. Your hips were starting to oscillate against his and he was too eager to reciprocate, making him you feel how hard he was in the process.

In the back of your mind, you heard the hinges of the door cringe and soft feminine giggles. You did not care. If anything, it riled you even more. He could take you right there while everybody was watching and you would not care one bit. There was nothing that could put an end to this. Except the ringing of his phone.

Lloyd grumbled and tore himself away from you. He fumbled in the pocket of his pants and extirpated the smart phone.

“Give me a minute.” He told the caller sharply.

You looked at each other, breathless and turned on. Lloyd winked at you. “I need to take this.” He stroked your swollen lips with his thumb. “I’ll meet you at the entrance hall, okay?”

You simply nodded, too stunned to find your voice. Lloyd nodded back and left. You heard his cold “What do you want?” before the door closed after him.

Flustered, you went into the bathroom stall to relieve yourself, washed your hands, fixed your dress and make up before walking out.

The welcoming committee was not here anymore, they were probably enjoying the festivities. You rummaged in your purse to check the time on your phone. 9:30 PM. It was not that late and yet, you felt as if it was midnight after the evening you just had.

You waited patiently and kept checking your phone again, and again, and again…

Fifteen minutes later and still no Lloyd in sight. You could not spot anyone or anything outside so you went back to the banquet hall.

You spotted Lloyd who was in a deep discussion with another man you couldn’t put a name on. The guy had a cocky and overconfident posture but Lloyd did not look like he was impressed, quite the contrary. You were approaching them slowly when something the man said made you stop in your tracks.

“I didn’t know you were hitting that, Hansen. I mean, I thought you were over the desperate ugly chick kink. Looks like you hit the jackpot with her though…and a fat one on top of that!”

You waited for Lloyd’s answer with belated breath. “Jealous? You should try them sometimes, gives you more meat to eat.” He sneered.

“Please, Hansen! We all know you are doing this to get to the father like you used to do when we were in college. I don’t understand why you keep up with this little charade though. I heard you were quite successful, no need to make yourself suffer anymore.”

You closed your eyes, ashamed and humiliated.

“Mind your own business, Cooper.”

Cooper did not appear to be done though. “Ah so there is something else going on. Tell me…”

You did not bother listening to the rest of the conversation and left the room very calmly as not to draw attention to yourself. You managed to keep this even pace until you were back in the hall then you rushed outside, only stopping when you reached the gate.

Your breath was erratic and you were shaking, the chill weather of this spring night hitting you for the first time. Your vision was blurred due to the tears that had started to well in your eyes. NO. You thought, wiping them away furiously before they could roll down your cheeks. You would not cry. Lloyd Hansen was not worth your tears. Your father was not worth your tears. This fucking name was not worth your tears.

Ragefully, you tore the sticker from your chest and wrinkled it before throwing it on the floor.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you rummaged in your purse once again to retrieve your phone and open the Uber application. Time to go back home and forget everything in front of a sitcom on Netflix while eating some chocolate or ice-cream. Probably both. You would enjoy your sweet treats after all, even alone.

“Bailing on me, Cupcake?” Lost in your own torment of emotions, you had not heard Lloyd coming after you. Your whole body went rigid when he put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around abruptly and took a few steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired. I’m going back home. But I’m not worried for you, I’m certain you will find another desperate ugly fat chick quickly.” You spat.

Lloyd tilted his head on the side and a smile stretched his lips. “Oh Cupcake, it’s not like you to eavesdrop on people.” He tutted. “Besides, those were his words, not mine. Made him regret saying them by the way.”

He clenched his right fist and you noticed his bruised knuckles.

“Doesn’t change the fact you agreed with him.”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Desperate ugly chicks will give you everything you want because they know beggars can’t be choosers but you Cupcake, oh you…” He tapped the tip of your nose with his pointer finger. You grimaced. “You don’t beg and you are not desperate. You give and ask for nothing in return. You were always so nice with me, always listening to me, helping me. Hell, I think you would have licked my wounds if I had asked you. I never thought someone like you could exist, I was fascinated by this, by you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another step back. “More fascinated by my father, if you ask me.”

Lloyd chuckled. “Your father was a nice bonus but I did not truly know who he was before I met you so you can’t put this on me. Now...”

“But now you want me to put in a good word for you.” You cut him off harshly. “In case you haven’t noticed, my father and I are not on speaking terms. Find someone else.”

He smiled but an evil glint appeared in his eyes. You shuddered. “Oh, my sweet Cupcake, you haven’t figured it out yet?” His fingers played with the fabric of your short sleeve. “Your father asked you to come because I ordered him to.”

“What?” You whispered incredulously, clutching your phone against your chest. You tried to step back but his strong grip on your sleeve made the fabric crack so you gave up and glared at him instead. “What nonsense is this?”

“It’s not nonsensical at all, Cupcake.” He winked and kept playing with your sleeve. “In my line of work, I got to meet your father several times and I also got to find out all the non-so perfect things he was tangled into. He asked for my help many times and I did help but I’m not you like you, Cupcake. I can be a giver but I take in return. I asked for you.” He concluded with a smile.

A laugh fell out from your mouth at that. “You do know we are not in the Middles Ages, right? My father can’t sell me to some man like cattle to pay his debts.”

“Who said anything about selling? All I’m asking is for you to come with me tonight. We’ll see where we go from here.” His hand let go of your sleeve to caress your arm.

You recoiled from him as if you had been burnt. “Don’t touch me.” He gripped your arm this time and you gasped from the pain, dropping your phone on the floor. “I said don’t touch me or I’ll…”

“You’ll…what? You’ll scream?” He sneered. “And what? You’re gonna tell them I assaulted you when they rush here. Who’s gonna believe you? Huh?” He shook you by the arm and you tried to escape his grip again but to no avail. “We’ve been flirting all night and the rumor that we were caught nearly fucking in the ladies’ room has already spread. You’re the slut of the night, Cupcake.”

You glared at him once again, utterly disgusted. Then it hit you. How come you had not seen it before? Lloyd hadn’t changed, he had always been like this and chose not to show it to you until now because you refused to please him, like you always did. “You’re sick.”

An evil smirk curled his lips. “Didn’t seem to bother you when my tongue was down your throat or when you were rubbing against my dick like a cat in heat.”

He pulled you against him, imprisoning your arms against his hard chest and tilted your chin up with his other hand so you would look at him. “Now you’ve got two choices. You come with me, we have some fun and your father gets to keep his perfect public face or your refuse and I’ll expose his scams. Believe me, they’re numerous.”

You sniffed disdainfully. “If you think for a second, I care about my father’s successful career or my mother’s for that matter, you’re clearly mistaken. Let them be ruined.”

“Oh, but you are forgetting one very important thing, Cupcake.” He stroked your chin. “You are all sharing the same name. You, above anyone else, should know the importance of it. Your career will be ruined too.” He concluded with a sardonic smile.

“Think about it: no more family cases, no more helping those in need…what will they do without you?”

Horrified, you closed your eyes to try and escape the reality of the situation, his mocking smile, his taunting voice. This fucking name. A curse more than anything else, a burden that hard ruined your whole life and kept doing it. Devoid of any choice once again all because of a man. There was no chance to escape from it. You couldn’t contain the tears of rage and frustration that rolled down your cheeks this time. You fell Lloyd’s lips against your skin, kissing the tears away in a tender but mocking gesture. Then, he embraced you and made you sway with him gently.

“What do you say, Cupcake? Up for some sweet treat with your very good friend?”

You nodded against his chest, too defeated and enraged to speak.

“That’s my girl”. He purred, kissing your forehead. “I knew you would take the right decision, always trying to please me. You are my perfect little wound licker. Too perfect to let you slip away from me once again. You are mine now and I will never let you go.”

Tagging: @naaladareia​ (Thanks for the support love)

[buckets-and-trees]

Fic: Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams

Title: SILENT SCREAMS IN WILDEST DREAMS Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky x female!Reader, side of Steve

Word Count: 8k

Summary: A dark tale with an unhappy ending. Just when you’ve married the man of your dreams, only just closed the chapter of your honeymoon, happily ever after is wrenched away, and you’re met with a nightmare you never could have imagined. This was written for prompt #14 in Roo’s Hallo-Cream Extravaganza: Each morning you feel more and more drained, but you don’t notice the marks until it’s too late.

Content Warnings: dark dark DARK tale, smut, main character death, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, talk of wounds, slight dub/con, elements of somnophilia, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Additional Notes: I will leave more detailed notes at the end of the fic so I don’t give specifics away, but this is loosely based on some Scandinavian folklore I’ve been exploring. I emphasize this is loosely based on the folklore – I’m not a Scandinavian folklore expert AND there were a couple of elements I did adapt to fit the direction of the story overall. I've left some songs throughout the fic for a bit of a soundtrack, if you wish. The title is taken from a Taylor Swift lyric (from "This Love"), but don't let that fool you. Here be a dark story.  

Also, thank you to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for letting me in on the party here with the challenge (my first challenge in this fandom) AND for literally saying "take all the time you need" when I said the beast was still being tamed and that life had been more life-y than I thought it would be over the past few weeks.

The first thing you’re conscious of are the warm fingers stroking lightly up and down your back. You take in a deep breath of morning air, and hum in contentment as you let it out, stretching one of your arms out across the mattress, and the other above your head, pushing out from under your pillow to press against the headboard.

“Good morning, beautiful,” your husband says softly, his hand now moving beneath the hem of your shirt to press gently against the small of your back.

“Morning, Buck.”

Then you frown, registering that he’s not on his side of the bed, but sitting on the edge of your side of the bed. You turn and try to sit up. “Wait, what time-?”

He cuts you off and pushes you back down to the mattress. “Early.”

“James! You said you were leaving at six!”

He chuckles, “I know. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, brushing some hair out of your face before kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck. “You don’t have to get up until seven, and I didn’t want you to go to the trouble of getting up at five to try and make breakfast and send me off.”

He’s kissing you again to try to swallow your protests, which only works for a moment, but then you turn your head. “It’s our first day going back to work since the wedding, you should have let me dote on you.”

Pressing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he counters, “Shouldn’t a husband allow his wife to sleep in so he can keep her up all the later when he gets home?”

You let out a soft moan as he punctuates his question by sucking softly at the crook of your neck.

“What time is it?” you manage to whisper, trying to stay focused on your spat.

“A little after four.”

“What?” you jolt up with shock. “Four!”

He laughs. “Wheels up at five so we could get back for dinner.”

You groan and settle back into the mattress. “Four in the morning is disgusting. I’m glad you tricked me. Just make sure to grab some toast or something on your way out.”

“Yes, dear.”

As he moves to leave, you pull him back. “One more kiss.”

“Always.”

He sinks back into you, and your lips meet again. You love to feel his weight pressed against you, but he does prop himself partly, his metal forearm right next to your shoulder, and vibranium fingers tangling in your hair. Both your hands hold his face, and you part your lips to drink in more of him. He reciprocates, tongue seeking yours earnestly. His flesh hand skims up the side of your body, moving again under your sleepshirt, over your ribs, and then he begins to gently palm your breast, and your moan again.

“Keep up with that, and you’re not leaving this bed anytime soon,” you murmur against his lips, your back arching into his hand.

He huffs out a sigh, easing his hand away, but pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I know.”

Your lips capture his again, but with less urgency, just lips and feelings, and his warm hand withdraws from your chest and comes up to caress your face.

After another minute, he sits up.

You sigh but smile at him.

“I promise to pick up where we left off when I return.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He takes your hand and presses a warm kiss into your palm before standing, then pulling the covers back up and tucking you in. You yawn, both of you laugh, and then he leaves a final kiss on your cheek.

“Sleep well, my love.”

 The sky grows darker, and you frown as you look at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t a problem for Bucky to be taking longer than you expected to get home for dinner because the soup was safe just simmering, but this much later when he texted he would be home soon wasn’t normal.

There’s a knock on the door, and you carefully move Alpine off your lap and deposit her back on the cozy armchair to go answer it. You wonder if it’s Bucky and maybe he forgot his keys?

A quick glance out of the peephole reveals the familiar frame of your husband’s best friend on the other side of the mahogany door.

“Steve!” You open it wide and beam at him. “Bucky didn’t say you’d be coming by! You’ll stay for dinner, I’m assuming?”

Because Steve is already such a regular fixture in the place you and Bucky had recently moved into before the wedding, you had already turned and crossed the living room, heading for the kitchen, when you pause and turn back around, realizing that Steve hasn’t said a word of greeting and has only taken a few steps inside.

He’s watching you closely in a way he never has, and you read hesitancy in every muscle and movement of his body. He slowly pushes the door closed behind him.

Steve looks around the room very quickly, then takes a deep breath in and out before saying your name, and there is so much emotion in it, your blood runs cold immediately.

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no. Steve, he can’t…”

He closes his eyes and gives a single nod.

The flood of anguish is overwhelming, dropping you to your knees, and the tortured sound that erupts from your soul is foreign to your own ears. In less than a moment, Steve is crouched next to you, wrapping his arms around you. As much as you’re clinging to him as you sob, his arms are holding you so tightly you can feel he must be trying to hold both of you together, but he weeps as well. You stay that way, huddled together, until both of you are empty – no more tears, past feeling, beyond exhaustion – overcome with the grief that Bucky is gone.

There is no body to bury, but Bucky had already stipulated he didn’t want to be buried. He and Steve both stated they wanted to be cremated when their time came to remove temptation for trying to develop any new super soldier serums from their remains.

Without a body, you, Sam and Steve decide burning mementos as part of a funeral bonfire would be a fitting tribute for those who wanted to pay their respects.

The man who so often perpetuated that he was a taciturn and sullen retired assassin had collected a small but mighty community of neighbors, friends, and colleagues who show up on the day. Seeing so many who regarded him as Bucky, James, Sergeant Barnes, or the White Wolf – not HYDRA’s Winter Soldier – gather to say goodbye is a balm to your soul in those days immediately after losing him. You know it will take years and still the vast hole of losing him will never be truly filled, but you don’t want to drown in the depths of despair.

Still, you are a shadow of yourself as you live through the enormous heartache.

Steve comes by to “check in” on you every other day, but it’s always around dinner, and you think he needs someone who feels this much pain over losing him, too, needs to know it’s okay that it still hurts, with someone else who knew him, even though you knew different parts of him. You’re glad because Steve had also become someone you considered one of your own close friends, and a small part of you had worried that without Bucky to tie you two together Steve might have disappeared as well.

One night about a week after the service, Steve seems a little distracted, and you ask what’s on his mind. He mentions that there have been two deaths reported that Bucky would have been interested in – Senator Stern and Jack Rollins. The senator had already been in treatments for advanced colon cancer, but it appeared there had been a severe reaction with his chemotherapy. Rollins, the former number two on SHIELD’s STRIKE team who was revealed as a HYDRA sleeper agent when Steve exposed them and Bucky escaped and went into hiding, had gone underground himself, a mercenary operating in the shadows of the shadows, but had turned up in an alleyway in Detroit. He’d died of what looked like an aggressive infection from a wound, likely from a violent altercation.

“I know he never pursued vengeance, but I think he would’ve liked to know those two were gone for good. It’s just another thing I won’t get to talk to him about,” Steve says.

“Damn it, Barnes,” you sigh. “This would all be so much easier if he’d been a pain in the ass not worth missing.” 

The ache still hurts, but the small genuine laugh you and Steve share is another tiny piece of healing.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Alpine who’d been distant and skittish at Bucky’s abrupt extended absence at first, but then finally sensed you were as forlorn as her and largely refuses to leave your side now. It’s late, and you’re starting to fight with your eyes to stay open as you read, when two distinct poundings on the door startle you and Alpine both.

“Who could possibly be here at this hour?” you whisper to Alpine, gently moving her from your lap into a small cocoon of the blanket you’d been wrapped in.

You move to the door as quietly as possible. You don’t want to confirm to whoever’s on the other side that you’re home if you can help it, glad now that you had been too lazy to get up and flip the record in your record player when the music came to an end however long ago.

But when you see the shoulders of the man leaning weakly against your doorframe, a shocked cry bursts out your chest. Your fingers struggle with the locks as you hastily work to throw the door open, and he stumbles in.

You’re quick to try and catch a cold and shaking Bucky Barnes as you close and lock the door behind him.

“Bucky?” Your left hand moves to his bicep to steady him, but your right hand tentatively seeks his.

He seems lost for another moment, but then his other hand comes up to cover yours and when his fingers brush over your wedding ring, he turns his eyes to look at you, and you see the flame of recognition. It’s confirmed and your heart sings when he murmurs your name.

“How are you here?” you ask, desperate to know this is real.

“I promised.”

Your breath hitches. You’d relived the pre-dawn moments of your last morning together in so many dreams, waking up with a tear-stained face too many times to count. “Is it really you?”

You’re not convinced this is any more than a hallucination.

But then he pulls you in and his lips consume yours, and its lips and teeth and crashing, too desperate and too real to deny.

“What do you think?” he growls, breaking the kiss for a moment, leaning his forehead to yours again as he had so many times.

“God, I missed you,” you respond, tears freely spilling down your cheeks.

“God has nothing to do with it.”

His hands grab the collar of the old sweatshirt you’re wearing, and you yelp in surprise as in one swift motion he rips it from top to hem and pulls it down away from your body. He’s never ripped your clothing – he always wanted you to feel safe even in your most vulnerable moments – but if he’s anywhere as close to as desperate as you are in this moment of reunion, it’s no wonder he doesn’t hold back.

Your hands go beneath the collar of his jacket to push it down his arms, and before it hits the floor, he’s already lifting his Henley and undershirt up and off his torso. You quickly unhook your bra and drop it while he yanks off his shoes. Then he’s up, and his lips capture yours again, his metal hand tangling roughly in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other palming your breast. This is truly where you left off the last morning you saw him, and you’re entirely overcome – by the grief that has enveloped you the past two weeks, the release of relief, confusion, but, more than anything else, your love and lust, blazing out from the depths of your soul. He sinks to his knees, pulling you with him, then pushing you back to the floor, the hard wood solid against your spine while he hovers over you, his lips moving down to your neck, kissing and sucking, nipping at your collarbone. Then his hungry mouth latches onto your other breast, alternating between sucking the nipple and teasing his tongue over it, drawing a moan from your lips.

Your hands seek every part of his bare skin they can reach, running over his face, his neck, in his hair, gripping his shoulders, up and down his arms, the planes of his stomach, his broad back. Then you pull his head back up to you, needing his lips against yours. You need him more than you need to breathe.

He pulls down your underwear, and you work at his belt and zipper, and in the next moment, he’s plunged fully inside you, bottoming out in your wet heat, and any pain is welcome, less painful than your heartache without him. He doesn’t let you take a breath to get used to the fullness of his cock inside you again before he’s already setting a quick pace, thrusting in and out brutally. You whimper against his lips, but you don’t want him to stop.

“I didn’t want to believe you were gone.”

“’m never leaving you again,” he swears.

You’re hit with a fresh wave of tears at his words and with a shift in his hips, his cock now hitting at a different angle, pressing furiously now against that most pleasurable spot up against your pubic bone.

“More,” you moan, and he grunts and gives you exactly that, more force as he ploughs into you.

Your walls clench around him, and he reaches down to pinch your clit, biting down on your lip at the same time, and it all pushes you over the edge, and you cling to him as your orgasm shakes you. He continues to fuck you through the waves, not slowing his pace or his force, and you whimper, but with no desire for him to stop. Every brutal thrust is primal, and you need to feel this as much as he does.

Finally, his movement stutters and then he’s filling you with his hot seed, his head tucked in the crook of your neck, hot heavy breaths against your skin. His pace slows, but he continues to pump into you until he’s finished, then collapses fully onto you. You welcome the weight of him, another reassurance he’s really here. You thread your fingers through his hair, no thoughts of moving.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” you say softly.

Bucky raises his head to look at you. His expression is unfamiliar – haunted, hungry. It’s unsettling. Or it should be.

“You’re still cold, Buck,” you note, moving a hand to stroke his cheek. Immediate intensity of your reunion starting to abate, and now you begin to assess and worry over him.

He moves quickly, standing up, then scooping you from the floor and pulling you into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. His destination is the bathroom where he deposits you on the counter before turning to the shower, twisting the knobs to initiate the stream of hot water. As you’re securing your hair up and out of the way, he drops his pants to the floor, and then the two of you step naked into the shower.

The hot water pours over your skin. Enclosed by the sanctuary of tile and glass, in here he kisses you as if it’s as essential as breathing, slow and concentrated. It’s still overwhelming, but it’s not the same frenetic desperation he took you with on the floor, and time flows by just like the rivulets over your skin, until you realize the temperature of the water is cooling.

A small laugh bubbles up from your chest, and you pull away from his lips. He tries eagerly to follow, but you gently cover his mouth with your fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we lose the hot water completely.”

Bucky sighs, but nods meekly. You turn to see only your things in the shower, and it’s only a half of a second that you bite your lip before pushing out of the glass door, not caring that you’re dripping water all over the floor but do take care not to slip as you take the few steps to across the bathroom to the cupboard. You had removed Bucky’s toiletries from the shower, the counter, and his designated shelves behind the mirror so you wouldn’t be constantly reminded of his absence but couldn’t bring yourself to throw them out and had only been able to stash them in a box. You slide the box from the shelf, set it on the counter, quickly fish out his shower gel and shampoo, and return to him and the shower.

Bucky's already soaped up your loofah and gets to work running it over your skin as he has so many times before. You switch him spots to rinse off, then turn your attention to him. You work up the shampoo in your hands, and he bows his head down when you reach up for him. You draw a moan from him as you work your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp and his posture relaxes. You trade places again for a moment to let him rinse the suds out of his hair, then pull him back out of the direct stream so you can wash the rest of him. Neck, shoulders, arms, chest. You tug his vibranium arm to get him to spin around for you, but then you gasp.

“Bucky!”

Your fingers skim over burns below one shoulder blade, and he tries to turn back to face you, but you press your left hand firmly against him to keep him there as you continue to examine him. You knew every freckle and mole on his skin, the scars he had before, and these are new. So, too, are some bruises, and there’s even a gash lower on his side.

“Bucky, what happened?”

He’s slow to turn back and face you now, and there’s a deep furrow in his brow, the haunted look is back in his eyes, and he’s frowning. Your heart aches while you wait for him to speak.

You take his hand and gently tighten your grip, trying to reassure him that you’re here, that there’s no rush for him to answer.

After another moment, he finally answers, but he drops his gaze to the floor. “I don’t remember everything that happened. It’s just fragments.”

Setting aside the foam sponge you were using, you take a half step closer to him and cup his cheek, urging him to look back at you. “You’re here now. We’ll figure it out together.”

He engulfs you in another kiss. The heat and urgency grows, and then you two quickly rinse off the suds from his scrubbing down, and you’re escaping the shower, quickly toweling each other down, and Bucky pulls you to your bedroom and buries himself again in you. He’s relentless, taking you apart for hours, pulling orgasms from you, spilling his own into you, until you’re beyond spent, unable to move a muscle. Only then does he sink into the mattress next to you, pulling you into his side, you burrow happily against him, and he pulls the sheets and blankets up and around you both.

“Sleep well, my love.”

When you wake in the morning, you feel the sun on your face and fingers softly stroking up and down your back, and you sigh in contentment. A moment later your eyes fly open, and you shoot up in bed, your heart skipping a beat as you lock eyes with Bucky. You’d been so consumed by grief and conditioned yourself to coping with his absence that the reality of having him back hit you anew, and a laugh bubbled out of your chest even as you heaved a small sob.

“You’re really here,” you say softly, confirming it, reconditioning your brain.

“Never leaving you again,” he promises, pulling you close and wiping the few happy tears that spilled over your cheeks.

Tucked in under his right arm, you rest your cheek on his shoulder and let your fingers come up to trace lazy patterns over his chest, reacquainting yourself with the planes of his body. “I thought I had dreamed all of it.”

“This is not a dream.”

You shift slightly and laugh. “Yeah, my muscles are saying last night was very real. Can’t conjure up this kind of soreness in a dream, and I’m sure I’ve got bruises.”

“I’d apologize, but…”

He can’t see it, but you roll your eyes. “Bucky, I’ve always said I’d tell you if I ever needed you to stop, if you ever really hurt me.”

He huffs.

“Speaking of bruises,” you continue, letting your hand move to the side of his torso where you had discovered the gash in the shower. It’s still there. You lean up on your elbow and with your other hand, push up under his back, urging him to roll up onto his side. He tuts impatiently but indulges you all the same. Your fingers skim over the same bruising and burn marks that remain unhealed on his back. “Why are these still here? You always heal so quickly.”

He rolls onto his back again, looking at your concerned face. “I don’t know.” Your frown deepens. “No, I really don’t know, but they don’t hurt either.”

You sigh. “Okay, okay. But you’re also looking pretty peckish-“

“Peckish?” he interrupts, a smirk on his face. “I don’t think that means exactly what you think it means. How much BBC have you been watching lately?”

“Fine! Gaunt! You’re looking pretty gaunt for my super soldier, and I at least know how to fix that, so can we go make a ridiculously big breakfast?”

This had been a routine weekend ritual for the two of you, so you fall naturally into your roles in the kitchen, moving around each other to prepare your typical feast. Bucky is on waffle duty, in addition to making coffee and cutting up strawberries and bananas. You take care of scrambled eggs and frying up sausages and thick slices of tomato. The two of you know your timings, and you’re placing everything on the table around the same time.

He looks at the different dishes laid across the table, studying them. You watch his face, reaching slowly to spear a waffle with your fork. “Bucky? Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” He blinks and shakes his head before looking at you. “Of course, just… been a long time.”

You smile, but it’s a sad smile. He’s here now, but it doesn’t erase the weeks of pain your heart crawled through day by day, alone at this table, in this kitchen, in your bedroom, in this home you’d built with him.

“Tell me what you read this week,” he says, starting to pile food on his own plate.

And then you two fall into your rhythm. In your job as a literary agent, you read incessantly, and in a relationship with a man who turned out to be quite a book nerd, you’d established that you didn’t talk about books every night so you could have some off time from your job at the end of each day, but he was an eager listener each Saturday morning, and at the end of the week you always had an array to talk over with him. He would take seconds, and often thirds, while you spoke, and today was a dive back into that.

After an hour, the two of you cleared up the table, put the food away, did the dishes. As you do, Bucky eyes are on you constantly, and he takes any opportunity to touch you that the mundane tasks afford, a hand on your back as you pass each other putting things away, fingers brushing your skin when you hand him dishes, standing shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen sink.

As you close the cupboard, you turn and find Bucky moving to press you up against the counter, his arms bracing the marble edge on either side of you, and he slots his lips over yours, kissing you with a hunger that takes your breath away, and your fingers take desperate purchase clinging to the green t-shirt he’d thrown on with a pair of sweats.

When you finally break away to gulp in a lungful of air, he nips down your neck, then spins you around to face the counter and kneels behind you, yanking down your shorts and underwear with both hands, and you lean forward against the counter as he forces you to swiftly step out of them. Then he’s nudging your legs apart and burying his face into the apex of your legs, first biting at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, making you keen. Bucky makes one slow, torturous lick along your folds before going at your core with abandon, licking, sucking, slipping his tongue into your pussy, teasing your clit, bringing you to the edge. He backs off completely, and you whimper. “Bucky, no! More!”

He chuckles darkly, caressing the round curves of your hips. “More?”

“Need you. So close.”

He picks up again, but slowly, teasing you more, making you a whimpering mess, desperate for him. Your legs tremble, and you push back against his face, urging him to push you into waves of ecstasy.

Suddenly he backs off again, but he stands quickly, turns you around, and pushes you up onto the counter. He pushes his pants down, and you wrap your legs around him. Bucky sinks into you, but doesn’t move yet, instead demanding more kisses. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Take me back to bed,” you finally gasp out against his lips.

He nods and lifts you off the counter while keeping his cock inside you and takes you back to the bedroom. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you shuck your own clothes off, tossing them to the side, while he hastily removes his own and joins you on the bed. You push him down onto his back and straddle his hips. His hands move smoothly up your thighs as you reach down and guide his cock into your slick folds. You sink down slowly, and you both moan at the sensation. You close your eyes, but you can feel he’s watching your face. Your move your hands down to twine with his at your hips, and you gradually begin to move above him, raising and lowering yourself unhurriedly.

Since the very beginning taking Bucky as your lover, it’s always undulated between fast and slow, but with passion burning steadily through all of it. His every move, every touch, has always felt more intentional and cherished than everyone who came before. It consumed you in those early days, and he’s consuming you again now.

After a few minutes though, Bucky is not satisfied with the pace, and he sits up to take more control. With your faces close again, his hands move your hips up and down more quickly, setting a blistering pace, racing to another climax for you both, and you’ve no complaint, head falling back. He plants hot kisses along the column of your throat, his hands moving up your back, kneading, almost pinching the flesh as he clutches and clings to your shoulder blades.

He can feel you clenching down on him, knows your close, and he brings his metal hand around to reach down where your bodies meet in the thrusts, and rubs the small, tight circles over your swollen bud. Just another moment, and you let out a sob as another orgasm rolls over you, pulling him over the edge with you as your walls constrict around him. He grunts and holds you down, rocking your hips together back and forth as he shoots his hot sperm inside your womb.

You’re both breathless as he lays back, pulling you down to rest on his chest.

As your pulses return to normal, you place your hand over his heart, humming in contentment. But then you frown, noting that the skin you were so used to running hotter than anyone else because he’s got that super soldier serum running through his veins is still cooler than it’s supposed to be.

“What is it?” he asks, sensing your mood shift.

“Maybe we should call Dr. Banner and ask him to run a physical.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can feel the hesitance.

“I’m worried is all, Buck. You’re cold, and you’re never cold, and then the lack of healing with your wounds, I think something strange is going on.”

“Something strange is going on,” he admits, “but no Banner, not yet.”

You shake your head and push away, sitting up to look at him, “Why not?”

He earnestly sits up and cups your cheek for a moment, eyes seeking understanding in yours. “I can’t do it – no, I won’t do it again. I just got to a place in my life where I finally felt almost normal, and I don’t want to return to being be the oddity to everyone while I’m putting things back together.”

“What about Steve? He knows you better than anyone.”

He shakes his head. “Not even Steve. I’m not my old self yet, and Steve has seen me broken too many times, I can’t do that to him again. Maybe in a few days.”

You sigh.

“I know you’re worried,” he continues, “but please don’t. I still can’t tell you what happened, but I knew I had to get home, but it took me so long to remember how and to remember why. Someone said promise and I remembered I’d made you a promise. When I got here and you opened the door, when you put your hand on my arm and then I felt your wedding ring, another piece – quite a few pieces actually, it’s one of the reasons I couldn’t stop last night. Every touch put more pieces back into place. I’ll figure this out, but I can’t do this to Steve again.”

You chew the inside of your lip. “He’d want to know.”

“That punk doesn’t get to have everything he wants all the time.”

The comment draws a smile to your face again. Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m getting more clear pieces all the time; I just don’t know how they all fit together yet.”

“Okay.”

“Besides, you’re wrong about one thing.”

You pull away again, searching his eyes.

Now he is the one with a small smile on his face. “Steve doesn’t know me better than anyone. You do.”

Another kiss.

You melt. You understand. You trust him. You agree. 

Unfortunately, you don’t know what you don’t know. Neither does Bucky.

You spend the rest of the day wrapped up again in each other, the night as well.

Sunday passes much as Saturday had – eating, talking, more sex than you had on the honeymoon. He’s seemingly insatiable, and you’re no less desperate, but also no match for his stamina.

Monday he lets you work, but only just. He convinces you to set up shop in the living room, where he promises to behave, he just wants to be near you, and your heart can’t deny him. He is always near you, almost constantly touching you in some way whether it’s one of you leaning against the other on the couch, holding your feet in his lap, sitting at the table and your knees touching. He lets you read manuscripts, but not for long before exacting more than proximity or the innocent touches from your body. You’re so intoxicated in his return you can’t think of denying him. Even during the night, you sleep more than he does (you always have), and as you drift in and out of consciousness, it’s to the feeling of his hands or his lips on your skin, waxing again between innocent and carnal.

Each morning you feel more and more drained, but you don’t notice the marks until it’s too late.

Tuesday so many of your bones and muscles ache that you draw yourself a hot bath, unable to sleep and waking earlier than you had planned. The sex has been desperate and rough and frequent, and so the bruises on your body seemed natural.

When you step out of the tub, you happen to look over your shoulder in the mirror and see there are a couple of bruises that had bloomed on your back that were much darker than any you’ve had before. You just frown, finish drying off, and get dressed. Part of you longs to go back to bed and back to sleep, but you want to check in and see if you can’t get a few hours of work done. You do call off for the afternoon, and Bucky joins you for an afternoon nap.

You awaken with a gasp. It’s dark outside and Bucky has you on your back, planted between your thighs, his cock thrusting into you the action that woke you up. You clutch at his shoulders, letting him carry you away in the pursuit of more pleasure. He pulls you later into the kitchen to eat, but you’re still so tired that Bucky insists on returning you right back to bed after. You drift off, but not before he’s exacted another orgasm from your body, with his lips on your clit.  

The next morning, you look at the bruises on your back again. They’re still just as black, but now two of them look like they’re starting to open up like wounds. Your stomach floods with dread, and you call for Bucky, trying to keep the edge of panic out of your voice.

When he enters the bathroom, in the mirror you see there’s something that flashes in his eyes when his eyes first take in the planes of your back, but you can’t tell what it is, and it’s gone too quickly. You want to ask, but you’re also too afraid to know what it could be.  

“I…” he starts, then swallows almost imperceptibly. “I was thinking I would go to the store. I’ll get something from the pharmacy for that, but I think we should get you back to bed.”

You’re so bone tired you don’t protest, and even your worry is swept away by your exhaustion. He tucks you in, and you’re already beginning to fall asleep again.

Another long rest seems to help, and you’re able to pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen. The clock reads that it’s early afternoon, but Bucky is still out. You warm up some soup, toast some bread, and curl up on the couch with your modest meal. You switch the television on and stream some of your favorite reality show; it’s engaging enough to pull your mind a little from worrying about Bucky’s extended absence.

There’s a soft plop, and Alpine has suddenly appeared on the other end of the couch. You extend your right hand out, and she stalks over, nuzzles her head against your hand, and climbs right into your lap as if she hasn’t been absent for days.

You chuckle. “Where were you, you little minx?” It wasn’t uncommon for her to come and go on her own adventures in and out of the home, but she rarely left for so long. “Bucky’s been back since Friday night, and you’ve missed him completely!”

She settles down and purrs as you start petting her, seemingly oblivious to your inquiry and revelation. You turn your attention – as best you can – back to the screen.

Bucky was only supposed to be going to the store, two stores at best, but many episodes later, he’s still not back, and you can’t even contact him because you realize you two haven’t even got him sorted out with a new phone since he’s come back from the dead.

It's dark when you finally hear a key in the lock, and you’re fully alert again, turning to watch him enter, disturbing Alpine asleep in your lap, and she jumps down and darts away.

“Bucky!”

His back to you, he methodically closes and locks the door. When he turns back around, the look on his face makes your heart skip a beat. His eyes are wary. His whole demeanor is tense with dread. He moves slowly toward you.

Adrenaline floods your veins, relieved that he’s back, but worried at his state. “Where were you?” you ask, noting he has returned empty handed. “You were gone for so long.”

He sits down next to you on the couch, positioning himself to face you, never taking his eyes off of you.

“James, talk to me. You’ve got me scared to death.”

He opens his mouth at that, then closes it again. You move closer and take one of his hands in both of yours, pulling it into your lap. “Dying moves lower and lower on the list of bad things that could happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m already dead.”

The blood rushes in your ears, and your heart stops.

“I don’t want you to be afraid.”

A bitter laugh falls from your lips, jumpstarting your breathing again. “A bit late with you talking like that. What happened? Where did you go? Why are you saying this?”

“I told you the other day that pieces were coming back.”

“Right, go on.”

“The marks on your back, they reminded me of a very old piece I didn’t even know was there.”

You nod slowly.

“When I was just a boy, my grandmother’s older sister, my mom’s aunt – so my great Aunt Ida, she came from Sweden to live with family here in the States after her husband died. They didn’t have any children of their own, and my grandmother had written to her and convinced her to come live with her in Brooklyn, because she’d have all of us around.”

Bucky rolls his left shoulder, something you’d noted he would do when he got uncomfortably nervous. You don’t push him, but just wait. He rubs his left hand up and down his leg, then continues.

“Aunt Ida liked to tell stories and read books – got me into books, actually. When my sister was around, she’d tell harmless stories, fairytales and stuff, but a couple of times when it was just me, I’d ask if she knew any scary stories, and she played along, teasing me, get me going. The last time, she told me this old folktale I’d never heard of before or since. She told me about there were souls who were killed but refused to die, souls who were either so tormented in life or who had tormented others so much that they could never be laid to rest.

“She got lost in the tale and before she realized what she was saying, she joked that her husband never wanted to leave Sweden, for years he knew my gran had wanted her to come to America, and she said she was surprised he hadn’t already risen from his grave and followed her to New York. She said it was only a matter of time before he tracked her down. My gran overheard that from the doorway though and screamed and scolded Aunt Ida for suggesting such a thing.

“A couple of weeks later Aunt Ida got pretty ill, I saw her only once more before she died, and she had the same kind of black bruise on her arm that I saw on your back today. Only once did I see my gran draw the two together – I wasn’t supposed to be close by, but I was down the hall when the doctor made a final house call to look over Ida, and my mom had to pull her out of the room. She was hysterical, saying it was this creature I’d never heard the name of before, that it was Ida’s husband, come to pull her away, but I couldn’t remember the name she used.

“But when I saw your bruises, and the way they were opening up like hers, I remembered everything about Aunt Ida and that story. I went to the library. I wasn’t sure where to start, except I figured folklore always starts with roots of truth somewhere in its distant past, so I pulled books on Swedish and Nordic folktales and got to reading.  

“Then I found it. They’re called gengångare, and I know I am one.”

“No!” You had let him go on for some time, fascinated and horrified, not even sure what you would’ve interjected previously, but this you couldn’t believe or agree with.

“I must be. No, don’t cry,” he says, bringing his vibranium fingers up to gently brush away the tears spilling over onto your cheeks. “It explains everything: you said I died, and I’ve remembered a lot about my life before the incident, but almost nothing after, only scattered pieces that are so much slower to come and foggier than my actual life. It explains why my body isn’t the same as it was – I ignored every time you said my skin was colder, didn’t want to think my body wasn’t healing, but I’m not feeling any pain with those injuries either. I’ve been so desperate to touch you, to please you, because the heat and the physical sensations – especially the pleasure – I can feel something of that.”

He pauses, his expression changing slightly before he continues. “It explains why loose ends from my past have turned up dead in these past weeks.”

You have to move away from him, have to think. This is too much.

You stand abruptly from the couch and start pacing, but you only manage to take a step or two before you sway and have to steady yourself with a hand on the mantle so you don’t fall. Bucky is at your side in an instant. He’s calling your name, but you feel so lightheaded, and it sounds like he’s miles away instead of right next to you, holding your arm.

You blink and try to shake your head to clear it.

The cool vibranium of his hand is suddenly on your face, pressing against your forehead, then your cheek, your neck, and your cheek again. “You’re burning up,” he mutters.

You remember his enhanced hand can register temperatures.

He scoops you up bridal style into his arms and takes you to the bed you share for the last time.

“The gengångare went after souls,” he continues to explain, “trying to pinch and pull at their life, whether to steal them away into death or try to just pull some life back into their own souls, they couldn’t seem to control their draw fully one way or the other.”

Bucky seats you on the edge of the bed, and you remain quiet. Truly, what could you say?

He plants a kiss on your forehead. You don’t fight him when he reaches for the hem of your shirt to pull it up and over your head. He turns your body so he can examine your back again, and his breath hitches. When you turn back and meet his eyes again, your heart sinks because his are full of resignation.

“I should have known it was too good for us to be happy. Taken from you after our honeymoon, brought back in a cursed state, doomed to lose you.”

“What now?

He lifts his own shirt up over his head and lets it drop to the floor.

“You’ll be consumed by what loves you. Ruined.”

He steps out of his boots, unbuckles his belt, and unfastens his jeans, sliding them to the floor.

Another tear slips slowly down your cheek, and he falls to his knees in front of you, fingers brushing the tears away. Then his fingers continue trailing down your neck and ghosting over the lace trim of your bra over the swell of your breast, making you shiver, terror and yet desire for him surging through your veins.

“You’re still so beautiful here at the end,” he whispers, his other hand smoothing up your leg.

Not knowing what else to do, your hands reach out and cup his face, drawing him to your lips. He kisses you so deliberately.

Bucky releases the clasp of your bra, you shrug it off your shoulders, and he pulls it away, tossed onto the floor in the heap with the rest. He pushes you back further on the bed and lays you down gently. The places you know those horrific bruise wounds should be feel numb against the sheets. He draws your panties down, discarding them as well.

Worshipping you as he has so many times, he hovers over your body, kissing your neck, your heaving chest, your breasts, while the skilled fingers of the assassin delve into your folds, drawing the wetness from the heat there, touching you in the way he knows your body craves. His fingers slip into you while his thumb rubs over your clit. He finds the tender spot within your pussy so easily, and you moan and whimper, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other tangling into the sheets.

You can only manage a short scream with your release, and though he was slow in the first stages, now he’s feral, wasting no time kneeling between your thighs and plunging his cock into you. It jerks you, but he pays no attention. He’s chasing with abandon now, both hands gripping your hips as he thrusts in earnest, bottoming out with tremendous force each time. The fullness, the force, it’s so much pain and pleasure with each stroke that you sob, clinging to him as another orgasm washes over you. His face is buried in your neck, and he cries out, his own climax coming soon after as your walls contract around his full cock. He pumps you full of his seed, moving until he’s empty, everything and every emotion poured from him into you.

He drops onto you, his energy fully spent. Once he’s recovered enough, he moves off of you, rolling to the side, and pulling you with him, chest to chest, face to face. His vibranium arm holds you close, and his other hand gently pushes some of your hair out of your face.

You look at him for a moment, but you can feel you’re slipping out of consciousness. So tired.

“Don’t be afraid. Dying is much easier than living.”

His blue eyes, darker than you’ve ever seen them before, are the last thing you see.

He whispers quietly to you in the dark as you fade away. He wouldn’t let Steve see him like this. He’d pulled you away from life, he wouldn’t do it to another now that he knew. He would return to Russia, so fitting to go to where so much else went wrong for him, and vanish in Siberia, waste away where he would never be a danger ever again.

Then after a while, he falls silent, wanting to hear the rest of your heartbeats while they last.

Then finally, he murmurs his goodbye.

“Sleep well, my love.”

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

Writer commentary available here as part of the 2023 Dark Forest Fest

More detailed author notes...

First, LONGEST ONE-SHOT I'VE EVER WRITTEN (I've got some very old HP fandom days under my belt from many years ago, just not attached to this tumblr account). Just kidding. I lost my masterlist, and so I'm going back through my fics and saw that Into Dust actually almost hit 9k.

Second, Into Dust was only a slightly dark fic, but this was a. dark. plot. I was stoked to write something for spooky season, and when I got the line part of the prompt, it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, so I... knew I wanted to go into some uncharted territory. This year I've been turning toward discovering my own ancestral heritage instead of just "being American." My ancestry DNA test reports that I'm a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT of Swedish - like almost half my ancestry. I've had an affinity for Sweden for ages - have friends who moved there, have been able to visit once myself and completely fell in love, half the stuff I own is from Ikea, etc, etc.

So with this, I was initially thinking, what's a folktale or fairytale or halloween thing that I could use that's not totally overdone... but then I thought, wait, I'm trying to learn more about my Swedish heritage anyway, so why not see if there are some creepy awesome SWEDISH folklore elements I could research and explore. I googled "Swedish folklore monsters" and started combing through different top 10/top 5/top 15/top 20 lists, and this Gengångare came up across most of them, and the concept intrigued me. I think I stayed true to about 90% of what my deeper digging led me to. Anyway... if anyone is more interested, let me know/send me an ask/whatever and I can share more of what I found and catalogued away.

[bungalowbear]

Devil In Her Heart

Pairing: Steve Rogers x dark!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of sex, illness, implied murder, actual murder, blood

Summary: Steve lives in blissful ignorance as you new husband until he discovers your dark secret.

A/N: This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor HalloCream Extravaganza. My prompt was: the person you married is more than meets the eye. Title and other inspiration for the story came from this song. I had a good time writing it, and I hope you all have a good time reading it, too! Thanks again for hosting, Roo! 🖤

You sit on the edge of the worn sofa with your back to Steve as you fasten the buttons at the front of your dress. The smell of sex lingers in the air of the small living room, so you go to the corner table to strike a match and light a candle. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus steadily wafts through the room.

Peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Steve’s toned bum as he stands and pulls on his trousers. The morning light creeps in from between the thin space of the curtains to shine a thin golden line up his back. Your eyes follow its trail upward, past his broad shoulders, to connect to a pair of blue eyes that already look upon you.

Despite your frequent late night visits to the Rogers residence, the weight of Steve’s gaze continues to set your nerves ablaze. The trek from your manor at the top of the hill at the edge of town is always made worthwhile once you step foot into the modest abode. On occasion your nighttime visits even bleed into the morning. Much like this one.

You’re not ashamed to say you find both physical and emotional pleasure in Steve’s company. Especially not when you know he shares the same sentiment. When you first began seeing Steve it was nothing more than relieving your natural urges. But as the years went by you could no longer ignore the way you became so attuned to one another. Every touch, every breath, and even every look on his handsome face you could decipher.

“What is it, Steve?” you ask, walking across the room toward him. You place one hand on his arm while the other gently rubs up and down his back.

“It’s my mother,” Steve confesses softly. “She saw the doctor yesterday. He told her she has half a year before the illness completely overcomes her.”

“I’m sorry.” You rest your head on his shoulder. Your arms drop down to circle his waist in a comforting embrace. “What can I do to help?”

“You do enough.” Steve’s hands cover yours, squeezing gently. “You brighten my day every time you come to see me.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Steve chuckles.

You turn your head upward, resting your chin on his shoulder as your lips form a pout.

Steve’s smile slowly dampens, and he lets out a deep sigh.

“Well,” he pauses, “the new medicine she’s been prescribed costs nearly double what the one she was taking before. I’ve already asked for more work at the lumber yard, but very soon we’ll also need a nurse to look after her when I can’t.”

“I can help,” you plead. You’ve had this argument many times before, but Steve has always been adamant that his household troubles are not for you to worry about. “I want to help.”

“I know you do. But I can’t let you,” Steve declines. “I can’t take your money.”

“Marry me, then.” Your heart races as the words leave your lips. Your arms tighten around him. “What’s mine would become yours.”

Steve laughs. But it quickly halts when he notices your expression doesn’t shift. He easily separates your hands and frees his body from your hold, turning to face you. “You’re serious?”

“After my husband died I didn’t think I’d ever feel the same way about anyone else,” you say slowly. “Then I found you.”

Steve doesn’t react. His serious blue gaze penetrates you so deeply that your hands begin to tremble. You have to hold onto his arms to steady them.

“I love you, Steve.” The words come out so suddenly that you cannot even think to stop them. “And I believe that you love me, too. I can feel it in the way you hold me. The way you kiss me. But if I am wrong, and I’ve entirely misinterpreted, then please put me out of my misery.”

Steve whispers your name. A deep, soft, loving sound that causes your stomach to flutter.

“Yes?”

“People will talk,” he warns.

“They already do. I hear what they say about me, Steve.” You shake your head. “But I don’t care about them. Only you.”

You see the hesitation in his eyes, the way his mind works quickly to weigh the potential outcomes of either answer he gives you. His eyes jump to the door behind you. On the other side is the only private bedroom in the home where his mother is sound asleep.

You’d both been mindful to keep as quiet as possible during your earlier exertions, careful not to wake her. You’ve met Sarah a handful of times while around town and if she suspects anything between you and Steve she’s been gracious enough to keep it to herself.

Steve adores his mother and would do anything for her. Which is why when his eyes drift back to you, his answer written clear across his face, you have to restrain yourself from reacting until he speaks.

“Okay.” Steve’s mouth stretches into a wide grin and you finally let yours flare out across your lips. “Let’s get married.”

❤️‍🔥

You and Steve have been married three months. Though the decision was made quickly, the love he has for you had already grown steadily in the years before. And he is glad to find that it was not the wrong decision.

Though he and his mother are still adjusting to life in a grand house such as yours, he cannot say that he is unsatisfied with the higher quality of living. You have a friendly and diligent staff that includes a butler, a chef, a maid, a groundskeeper, and now a nurse for his mother.

Steve is grateful for all that you have done for him and his mother. But not even your amount of wealth can change the inevitable.

As Steve lays on his back with your head on his chest, bodies sweaty and exhausted from your many rounds of lovemaking, his fingers absently stroke along your back as his mind ponders on what life will be like when his mother’s life inevitably ends. How her grandchildren, if you and Steve do give her any, will never know what it is to be loved by the kind, selfless, and honest woman she is.

“Steve?” Your voice, always there to pull him out of the hole he’s mentally trapped himself in, is a hot whisper that fans across his skin. “If there was a way to cure your mother, would you do it?”

“Yes,” he answer without missing a beat. “I’d do anything.”

You hum lazily, on the brink of slumber.

Steve continues to run his fingers along your skin, lulled by the steady sound of your breathing, until he falls asleep.

When he wakes the next day, he finds you gone and that he has overslept. He gets out of bed and readies himself for the day. The first task of his day is always to kiss you good morning, but seeing as you have risen without him, his mother will be his first visit of the day.

Steve makes his way to the East Wing of the manor. Before he enters his mother’s room, he prepares himself with a steadfast smile that he’s trained not to waver. He opens the door and expects to see his sickly mother, frail and thin. But what he sees instead makes his smile drop.

Having spent the last three months watching his mother slowly wither, Steve is rooted to the floor in shock at the sight of the rosy cheeked woman before him. Even her hair has regained its color, like a gold curtain cascading down her back.

“Ma?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the sight of her son. She pulls back the blankets and with little help from the nurse gets to her feet. Steve rushes forward and places gentle hands on her arms.

“I’m okay,” Sarah assures. Her lips stretch from ear to ear, blue eyes beaming up at Steve. “It’s a miracle, Stevie. I…I’m cured.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrows. While he knows this is good news, he can’t help the doubt gnawing at the back of his head. “What do you mean a miracle?”

“I had a dream last night.” She moves her hands to grip his now, tightly as she recounts her experience with wonder. “And a voice called out to me, the voice of an angel. He asked me if I wanted to be cured. I told him yes. He offered me a drink and I took it. Then I woke up and the sickness was gone.”

Steve stares down at his mother, unable to form words. What she says sounds absolutely lunatic. But yet here she is, standing on her own two feet and gripping him with a strength she did not have yesterday. Was this truly a miracle?

Hurried footsteps sound from down the hall. Steve turns his head to see the butler carrying a tea set atop a silver tray, and you with your own tray topped with toast, jam, fruit, and other assorted pastries entering the room.

“Steve, darling.” You’re slightly out of breath as you set the tray down on the table by the window, looking up at him with excited eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I wanted to surprise you. I came to see your mother this morning and she told me everything. Isn’t this wonderful news?”

“Yes,” Steve agrees, a warm smile forming at your elation. “Indeed, it is.”

“Oh, Sarah.” You turn your attention to his mother. “Please come and eat. You must have quite an appetite.”

She agrees with a laugh and you extend a hand to beckon her from around the bed and over to the table. Steve’s eyes spot a stain the size of a quarter on the sleeve of your dress, a deep red that reminds him of blood. He’d suffered plenty of nosebleeds from fights in his youth to recognize the sight of it.

“Sweetheart?” You turn your head to look back at him. “What’s that on your sleeve?”

You brows knit together as you turn your wrist to examine the red splotch. You let out a laugh at the sight of it. “I was in such a rush to get everything together. It must have got caught in the jam.”

Steve hums thoughtfully. He walks up behind you, looking over your shoulder to see the spread of food. He doesn’t voice his observation that the jam you served is grape. A sweet, dark purple. Instead the high of his mother’s recovery banishes it from his mind, allowing him to rejoice with the two most important women in his life.

❤️‍🔥

The hustle and bustle of the market goes on around you while you watch your husband from afar. He is talking to a blonde woman. You recognize her as a member of the Carter family, though you cannot recall her name.

Jealousy flares in your chest when you notice how close she is to Steve. The way her hand rests on his arm makes you want to stomp over and rip it off yourself, but your husband has more grace than you. He subtly shifts his body so that her hand falls away and there is a more respectable distance between them.

“Why did you marry her?” Your brows raise at the question. So blatant as her voice carries over to the stall where you pretend to inspect a piece of fruit. “I would have warned you myself, but your nuptials were so sudden.”

There is a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“Warned me of what?” You can hear the genuine confusion in Steve’s voice. He was never one for gossip.

“You know. The rumor that she…” Sharon’s voice lowers. You can just barely make out what she says, though you know before she utters a single word. “That she killed her husband.”

Steve voice hardens. “Sharon…”

“Everyone believes so,” she defends.

“Just because people believe a rumor, does not make it true.” Sharon opens her mouth to respond, but Steve is quick to stop her. “The woman I have been living with, the woman I love, is not capable of what you say. She is kind and gentle. She could never hurt anyone.”

Your heart flutters with joy at Steve’s words, lips curving into a triumphant smile as you step away from the stall and walk toward Steve. You come up behind him and loop your arm through his.

“There you are.” Your expression softens to something warmer as you gaze into your husband’s eyes. His hand finds yours and he gives it a firm squeeze. Your eyes flash to Sharon. “And this is…”

“Sharon Carter.” Steve introduces her and you hold out your hand for her to shake. She reluctantly accepts. “We’re old friends.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say with a sweet smile.

“You as well.” Sharon’s lips from a tight smile. Her gaze quickly leaves you before moving to Steve again. “It was lovely to see you again, Steve. We should catch up soon.”

Sharon leaves after Steve promises to meet at her Aunt Peggy’s for tea on Friday. You watch her go for a moment before Steve calls your name to get your attention. He gives you a chaste peck on the lips before you both continue on through the market. When you pass the newsstand Steve stops and picks up today’s paper.

“They still haven’t found that young girl,” Steve comments somberly as he reads the headline. “It’s been over a week now.”

Your lip twitches while your mind attempts to conjure a response.

But you’re saved from having to acknowledge his remark when Sarah spots you and calls your name. Steve drops the paper and lets out a chuckle when you quickly drag him away from the newsstand and toward the flower stall.

❤️‍🔥

The sun has long set when Steve and Sarah return from the theater. You had insisted they go without you to let them spend their own time together.

After Steve guides his mother up to her bedroom and bids her a good night, he seeks you out in your shared room but you aren’t there. He makes his way back downstairs to check the drawing room, the library, and then the kitchen. Steve doesn’t find you in any room.

As he’s about to leave the kitchen he pauses when he hears a muffled scream from the basement. He slowly steps toward the door beside the pantry and opens it. There is a dim light that illuminates the wooden stairs. Your voice draws him down the steps, and as he descends further your voice becomes clearer and he realizes you’re speaking another language. And you’re not alone. The scream he’d heard before didn’t come from you, but the person bound to a chair in the middle of the room.

Steve peeks his head around a thick wooden beam and sees Sharon with tears streaming down her cheeks that drop onto the rag tied around her mouth. She’s placed directly in the center of a circle drawn of chalk with strange markings within it. Steve’s eyes follow your form as you stalk around Sharon with a predatory look in your eyes that he’s never seen before. The maid stands just outside the circle, waiting for your direction. Suddenly you stop behind Sharon and unsheathe the knife in your hand.

“No!” Steve shouts, finally making himself known.

But it’s as if neither of you hear him. You slide the knife along Sharon’s throat at the same time the maid moves forward to collect the blood that pours out of Sharon’s neck into a bronze chalice. The maid hands you the chalice and you bring it to your lips, finishing its contents in several large gulps. Handing the cup back to the maid, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“What have you done?”

“Darling.” You look over at Steve. The curve of your lips momentarily shocks him. Sweet and innocent as if you hadn’t just been caught literally red handed. “You weren’t supposed to be home until later.”

“What have you done?” he repeats, stepping further into the room. Steve’s eyes jump from your bloodied hand, to Sharon, and then to the maid who stands silent beside you.

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t find out until much later.”

“You killed Sharon!”

You nod, not denying it. “I did.”

“What is the matter with you?” Steve frowns. He points a firm finger at Sharon’s lifeless body, her blood now a pool beneath her feet. “You just killed someone.”

“Wouldn’t be my first time.” There’s a glint in your eye that makes Steve’s blood run cold. You turn your gaze to the maid. “Grab the mop and bucket please.”

She bows her head in obedient acknowledgement before she leaves, leaving you and Steve alone in the basement.

“Why did you do this?” Steve asks.

“For years I sought out how to keep myself youthful. I searched holy texts, scouring through legends of the Fountain of Youth and the Holy Grail until I realized I was looking in the wrong places,” you explain. Your expression shifts and Steve feels unsettled at the glee in your eyes. “I found a book that explained how to cast spells and perform rituals. I studied relentlessly until I knew I was ready. Now every decade I sacrifice a maiden to the Dark Lord to keep my youthful appearance. My last husband didn’t take the news too well when he found out. He threatened to expose me, but he had an…unfortunate accident before he could.”

“Sharon was right about you.” Steve shakes his head. “They all were.”

Your mouth drops into a frown, a dark expression taking over your features.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Steve promises, “but I’m not staying here, and neither is my mother.”

Steve turns, intent on collecting his mother and leaving at once. But he stops short when you speak again.

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your mother?”

Steve turns his head to look back at you. Dread sinks deep into his chest. “What are talking about?”

“As long as your mother resides in this house she will continue to live the rest of her life free of her illness.” You walk toward him with even steps, your words like honey. Though Steve now knows how deceptively sweet you’ve been. “But if she leaves, the ritual I performed on her will no longer be in effect.”

Steve clenches his jaw, anger and betrayal coursing through every fiber of his being. You stand in front of him, and as you stare directly into his eyes and he can see only fragments of the woman he fell in love with.

“No one pays much attention in these parts when a girl goes missing every decade.” You shrug, as if you were merely talking about the weather. “Two was a bit risky, but you said you’d do anything to cure your mother. I know how much you love her. And I love you. Why would I not do this for her? For you?”

“My mother is old,” Steve whispers. It’s all he can do not to lose his composure. “She will die eventually. And then I will leave you.”

“Yes, but perhaps I can change your mind about me before then.” Your press your lips together into a small smile. Your words spoken just as gently, like so many promises you’ve spoken before. “I’d really like for us to live a long and happy life together, Steve.”

You give him a kiss, lips still reddened by Sharon’s blood, then walk past him toward the stairs, but you pause before ascending.

“The choice is yours, Steve,” you say, looking back at him. “It always has been.”

The maid passes you as she comes down and you walk up the steps. Steve watches you go before he turns and looks on as the maid begins to clean up Sharon’s blood, the same blood that stains his lips.

[nekoannie-chan]

Night stop

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader X Dark!Brock Rumlow.

Word count: 1613 words.

Summary: You stop at an old hotel for the night but the accommodation is not as nice as it seems.

Warnings: Horror, dub-con, smut not so explicit, stalk, mention of crimes.

A/N: This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​  Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza with the card #4.

@saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​  @navybrat817​  @angrythingstarlight​  @shield-agent78​ @charmed-asylum​  @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​  @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​  @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​  @bluemusickid​  @leyannrae​ @harrysthiccthighss​@marvelatthisone​ @hallecarey1​  @nana1000night​ @sheismarvelousworld​

You made a gesture of exasperation. You were sure that you had gotten lost. You threw your cell phone into the passenger seat. The battery had died, so you could not use the GPS or any application to know where you were or where you could rest for the night.

From the glove compartment, you pulled out the map, which apparently indicated that you were in the middle of nowhere on the road. Obviously, you could not stop in that place; it would be very dangerous. You checked the gas tank indicator; you still had enough to continue your trip for a couple of hours. You expected to find a hotel or a place to rest. You knew that you would not be able to keep driving all night since you felt tired. And there was still a long way to go to get to the audition. You were so confident that you would be chosen, and your desire to play the lead role was so strong that you didn't mind travelling across the country to the location where the auditions were holding. You always knew your future was bright and you would do whatever it took to make sure it was.

You travelled ten kilometers more and saw a sign for a hotel. Although you could not distinguish the name, you would have to deviate a little from the road to get to the hotel, but you really needed to rest, apart from saying that it was approximately one kilometer away. You go along the nearby road as marked by the signs. You stopped when you arrived at the place. You frowned when you saw the hotel. You weren't sure if it was still running; the place looked too old.

You turned off the car engine, took your bag, and got out. You did not notice the movement in one of the curtains of the place. You stopped when you put your hand on the door of the enclosure. You turned and looked around. Everything was quiet. You slowly pushed the door. You smiled when you noticed that it was not safe. That meant that the hotel was still working. You rang the doorbell at the reception when you didn't see anyone. It was past ten o'clock at night, so probably the person in charge was asleep.

A few seconds later, a blond man emerged from what appeared to be a small office behind the lobby wall. He looked friendly and gave you a warm smile and a welcome greeting.

"Hello... Steve," you said, looking at the name on his uniform badge. "I would like a room for one night, please," you asked.

"A person?" Steve asked, and you nodded.

"What's wrong?" Another man asked, coming out of the same place.

"We have a guest," Steve replied in a calm tone.

You watched the two men; there was something that drew your attention to both of them, but you didn't think you needed to be concerned because you'd only be there for one night. Steve waved a hand in front of your face; you hadn't heard what he said because you were focused on your thoughts.

"Is the payment in advance?" You asked immediately, although you didn't know what Steve had told you.

"Half right now and a half when you check out," Brock replied.

You swallowed hearing his voice; it had made you feel something "strange" inside.

"Miss, is everything okay?" Steve's voice had a hint of concern.

"Oh, of course, sorry," you said, opening your wallet to get the card. "You accept cards, right? " You could feel your heart beating rapidly.

Steve nodded with a smile, which you returned to him while giving him your card to pay.

"Enjoy your stay.

"Because he's not leaving," Brock mumbled almost inaudibly. You turned around because you didn't understand what he told you.

"Excuse me?"

He said, "Have a good night," and he asked if he had brought suitcases to help him get them to his room. It's part of our service, "Steve quickly corrected to divert your attention while directing a quick warning glance at Brock.

"Thank you, too. My bags are in the trunk of my car, "you replied.

Brock walked you to the car. You opened the trunk. He took out your bags and took them to the room you would be in that night.

Even though the look on the outside and at the reception looked deplorable, very old and dirty, the room was pretty much the opposite; clean, cozy, comfortable, not as modern as other hotels you had stayed in, but it had a TV and phone. You had not even thought that such services were possible in that place that seemed so far from civilization, they would probably fail. You turned on the TV. You didn't even pay attention to the movie that was playing at the time. You opened one of the suitcases to take out your clothes. All you wanted was to take a shower and then sleep. You really needed to rest.

You showered However, the feeling that someone was watching you was constant. Even though you had checked the whole room before anything else, you did not find any cameras or anything suspicious. Maybe it was your nerves or the stress of hearing, but for the moment, you needed to relax and unwind in order to give the best performance of your life.

Just when you finished putting on your pajamas, someone knocked on your bedroom door, frowned strangely, moved the curtain a little, and saw that it was Steve, who opened the door a little. You thought there might be some problem with your payment or room.

"Is there any problem?" you asked.

"None, nothing else. I brought you tea, courtesy of the house," Steve replied, showing you the steaming cup, which you drank carefully and thanked him with a smile.

You had the tea. It tasted delicious. It even had the temperature that you liked to drink it at. Although you found it strange that it was one of them who took it to you and not someone else from the staff, maybe they didn't even have more staff, they probably wouldn't have had many customers.

You laughed when a thought went through your head. At least the two employees you spoke to were too attractive. Of course, you wish something else had happened.

You put aside the curtain to look out the window. Even the lights at the reception were off. You didn't even know if there were more guests. You couldn't see the book. You barely remembered that you didn't even sign it. However, you didn't think there was any problem if you did it the next morning. You got under the blankets. Strangely, the bed was too comfortable, just like the one at home. You lowered your hand. You thought about touching yourself for a while. However, you felt too tired and closed your eyes.

You weren't sure how many hours had passed, but suddenly, you felt a hand running down your legs. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids looked like they were very heavy. Although you didn't pay much attention, it was probably some sort of dream.

After several minutes, the feeling was stronger. The hands were rising higher until they caressed your underwear. You were definitely not dreaming. You opened your eyes with a lot of effort. What you felt you no longer believed was a dream. You felt that a hand covered your mouth so that you could not scream. You used slaps to try to get rid of whoever was on your case.

"You better keep quiet, don't make things more difficult," Brock whispered in your ear as he continued to caress you, causing you to let out a choked moan.

"You seem to need help," Steve said from the door. You looked at him.

You didn't know how it had happened. It all happened so fast, but when you realized Brock was fucking you while you were sucking it on Steve, it all made sense.

"I thought you had a pretty face ever since I saw you when you got out of your car," Steve said, one hand caressing your left nipple and the other hand taking your hair to help him to fuck your mouth.

"It's been a long time since a woman as beautiful as you visited us," Brock spoke as he raised his leg further to deepen his onslaught.

The next morning, you were still trying to process what happened. You had the two men by your side.

"I told you; you weren't going to leave. We didn't plan to do the same thing to you as the other girls because you're so cute," Brock realized that you had already woken up.

You laughed when you heard their words because, after the first time they fuck you, you had decided to forget the audition and stay there to live with them. They have already shown you that they could please you in everything you wanted. In the end, your goal of being a famous actress was to have enough money to buy all your whims. But you knew they could do it. After all, you had heard their conversation, where they confessed many things.

Apart from that, if you caught the attention of the media, they could easily find you for some crimes you had committed. Although you were really surprised that they knew about it, you also knew their secrets, so nobody would betray anyone. Finally, you found a safe place that you could consider your home. There was no need to keep fleeing.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Note: Sorry this is soooo late. I've just been dealing with a lot. Also i think i went over the character limit. oopsies .This was for Roo's #halloscream challenge, I'm sure she has another one by now. Image created by Roo.

Warnings: 18 + Only, dark Theme, unlawful detainment, no smut, needed to stay in the character limit and you know i like to be long winded lol

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde Steve Rogers x Reader

You killed the engine and sighed in relief at the sight of your home. Traffic had been thicker than usual and equally draining.

Your stomach groaned as you locked the car and started up the drive. Cooking was out of the question, it was too exhausting and the likelihood of having even milk for a bowl of cereal was highly unlikely.

Your ears perked up at the sound of something peculiar. The neighborhood looked quiet at first glance. Street lights on and house lights out everywhere you looked.

You tried to brush it off, but you found yourself gravitating closer to your neighbor's yard.

🏡

You worried a bit. The sweet old man that lived next door lived alone. If something had happened he had no one to come to his aid.

Mr. Rogers had always been nice to you, overly so. If your yard needed work or trash bins taken in the little elderly man took it upon himself to assist you.

You did your best to dissuade him, but he always insisted. Since his retirement you presumed he was just trying to keep busy, so you reluctantly acquiesced.

🏡

When you reached the edge of his porch you noticed the front door ajar. The looming darkness prickled your anxiety. You hoped that maybe he had just forgotten to close it.

"Mr.Rogers? Is everything alright?" You called out into the darkness to no reply.

Unsure you stepped forward. If you were wrong you were sure your intrusion would surely cause the old man distress, but if you were right…

You entered slowly, feeling out the wall until you found the light switch. You found Mr.Rogers faced down a few feet from the door.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Mr.Rogers? Mr.Rogers?"

You felt panicked as you desperately rushed to his aid.

"I'm going to call an ambulance OK…"

His finger twitched seemingly in response. It was a relief shortly lived. The small trimmer slowly erupted into violent contortions. You winced at the sounds of cracked bones as his frail body stretched and grew longer.

🏡

The grey hairs on his head turned golden wheat as his loose leathery skin tightened and bulked with muscle.

When he stilled you fell back against the wall and stayed frozen in disbelief. You questioned your mental state. This didn't seem real, but you couldn't deny the sight in front of you.

"Ahhh… why does it always have to hurt like this." The strange, much younger, new man groaned as he stood and stretched. His clothes were tattered rags that barely covered his sculpted frame.

"Oh... and Who are you?" He asked when he spotted you.

"I uh I live next door." you answered nervously. You would've given your name had you remembered it, but the bizarre event had you forgetting the simplest of things.

He stalked towards you. Everything in you wanted to make a run for the door, but your legs would not respond.

"Well howdy neighbor, I'm Steve." He said casually as he boxed you in against the wall.

"The old bastard neglected to mentioned we had a new neighbor."

🏡

You could feel the slight venom in his voice. A hatred Steve had for the older version of himself. His eyes weren't warm and welcoming as the elderly old neighbor you were used to. The darkness that filled them seemed to feed off the unease that trickled up and choked you.

"….Well uh it's getting late I guess I should get going now." You tried to play off your worry, but you were sure your fear rippled through every syllable that left your lips.

"Now that's not very neighborly. I was just trying to get to know you." His words were calm and even, but the vain protruding from his forehead signaled something else.

"I'm sorry.. Please I won't -"

Steve's hand snaked around your neck, killing off your plea.

"That you won't what? … Tell anyone? Hmm?"

He didn't tighten his grip and yet somehow that felt more threatening. You whisper a barely audible 'Yes' in response to his question as tears and fear enveloped you.

"Of course Doll I know…. Besides if you did who would believe you? Hmm? You know as well as we do that the answer is no one."

[winter-soldier-101]

The Strangers part 1

Summary: Bucky has been watching you for some time now little did he know someone else was watching the both of you.

Word count:1537

Prompt:A stranger follows you home from the bar.

Warning: rape/forced sorta kidnapping? (just in case), soft!darkish themes (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Author note:This is part of  #rooshallocream I hope you enjoy part one

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor

(Not my gifs)

He watches her dance form across the dance floor at some shity bar she loves to go to with her friends and drink her sorrows away or just out to celebrate with her slutie friends he hates her friends he doesn’t like what they say to her and he hates that they make her dress like a whore but he does love her in that tight dress.

Day-393

The man’s been following my girl, my world, my fucking everything he thinks he can have her and take her from me no I won’t let him or I might share her with him I just have to meet her first.

Clark Kent signing off.

Day-395

I saw her today. She was beautiful but she was with her friends again. I hate her friends. When I get my hands on her she won’t want her friends anymore.

Bucky Barnes signing off.

Bucky kept a book of the times he saw you and he would sneak into your home and take things that belonged to you Bucky just didn’t know that Clark has been doing the same thing for three years waiting to get her and he knew Bucky wanted you too now he has to kill Bucky or share you with him.

The Bar

Bucky watches on as you make your way to the bar and get some last minute drinks Bucky makes sure to not get caught or seen by you or your friends he knows that if anyone sees him they will be scared and run away from him like everyone else does and he watches on as you take your drinks to your friends and drink the last drink and make your way to the dance floor for one last dance.

“Lucy… are you ready to go?” You yelled out to your friends.

“Yeah let’s get going I’m ready to pass out at home”Lucy yells out to you all.

Bucky watches you and your friends leave the bar and sees your friends get into a cab and leave you all alone Bucky knows you don’t live that far from the bar and he follows you and so does Clark little did anyone know that would be the last time anyone would ever see you again.

You hear someone walking behind you and then look back to see no one walking behind you and just make your way home.

Bucky was pulled back into an alleyway.

“What the fuck do you think your doing following her?” Clark yells at Bucky eyes glowing red.

Bucky pushes the man off of him “She’s mine” Bucky tells him.

“No I’ve been watching her for three years now and you’ve been doing it for a little over a year but I’m willing to share her with you but I get her first and I have a place we can take her. Do we have a deal?” Clark asks Bucky, sticking his hand out to him.

“Yeah we have a deal. What’s your name?” Bucky asks while shaking his hand.

“Names Clark and yours?”

“Bucky”

Clark looks over at Bucky and they both make their way to you and take you for their own.

Bucky and Clark see you stop under a lamp post and take off your shoes and walk up the steps to your home and Bucky and Clark make their way into your home and wait for you to fall asleep and take you home with them.

Clark gives Bucky the address and he packs up all your clothes in seconds and picks you up and takes you to the hidden cabin and comes back and takes all your belongings to the cabin and locks the door to the room and starts unpacking while he waits for Bucky to show up.

“Wake up my love” A voice says waking you up slowly.

“What……who are you? Where am I?” (Y/N) asks, looking around the room.

“Your home my love” Clark says, holding your face in his big hands while stroking your cheeks and wiping the tears away.

“This isn’t my home…I need to go home please I don’t know you!” You say with tears falling down your face.

“My love, this is your new home with me and the other guy,”Clark says, wiping away your tears.

“There’s more than one of you ?”

“Yes it’s me Clark and Bucky we’ve been watching you for some time and now that we have you I’m not letting you go anytime soon my love you are mine and I will kill whoever tries to take you from me” Clark says while holding you close to his face eyes glowing red while he tells you he would kill for you.

The door opens and someone walks in with boxes full of your stuff “I see your awake doll” Bucky says walking over to you and Clark.

“How long have both been watching me?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time I saved you from a burning building when you were 18 years old you held onto me and cried and begged me not to let you go or leave you alone and I’ve been keeping my eye on you ever since I fell in love with you and I loved when you begged for me so I knew I had to have you” Clark says holding your face in his hands and see your eyes widen when you recognize who he is.

“I’ve been watching you for a year now doll”Bucky says kissing your hand.

“You can go upstairs Bucky, I'll be with her for a little while,”Clark says, pushing Bucky out of the room and locking the door behind him.

“Why did you lock the door?”

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to have you all to myself for a little while”Clark says pulling you into his lap and starts kissing along your neck and up to your lips.

“Please stop…… Please, I don’t want to do this.”

“My dear I’m going to have you no matter what so please don’t try to stop me I don’t want to hurt you”Clark says holding you close and lays you down and gets on top of you.

“Please stop I……I don’t want to”you begged Clark to stop.

“My sweet I’m not going to stop so don’t try to stop me”Clark yells in your face while holding you down and taking off your clothes and his own.

“I’ll be gentle with my love I would never hurt you,”Clark says, kissing your lips softly and making his way down your body as you stair up and try to think of anything to help you forget what’s happening now.

Clark looks down at your body and pulls you close “your wet for me my love I know say you don’t want this but your body tells me the truth”Clark says while guiding his cock inside you slowly.

“Stop please………it hurts please stop”you whisper to him while the tears you were holding back began to fall.

“I promise the pain will go away soon”Clark says while moving slowly till he feels your body relax then he starts thrusting harder and faster. “Clark stop your hurting me STOP.”you yelled out trying to get his attention.

“I’m sorry but I can’t stop now”Clark moans into your neck and continues to thrust into you while you felt him inside you your body grew numb to his and soon you blacked out and woke up the next morning to see Clark asleep next to you.

You try and get up but your body is sore and hurts every time you to move then you feel movement beside you and Clark moves over to you and kisses your cheek and sees your trying to sit up and helps you up but when he moves you all you feel is pain run up and down your body and you cry out for him to stop.

“I’ll get you something for the pain I’m sorry I tried to be gentle with you but I lost control of myself my love I’m sorry” Clark says as he gets up and makes his way to the door and unlocks it and closes it behind him and locks it again that’s when you let the tears fall and you can’t help but think to yourself “How can they be the hero’s when their both monsters?How could I let those strangers follow me home from the bar?”

Bucky makes his way down to the room and sees you curled up in a ball crying and he sees you look up to see him walk into the room.

“Please….please don’t hurt me please” you cried out and moved away from him.

“I would never hurt you doll.”Bucky says, making his way to you slowly.

“Don’t worry Bucky you’ll get your turn soon she’s very tight might have her again soon if you don’t want her right now or latter”Clark says setting down some clothes and towels and gets Bucky’s attention “let’s leave her to have some time alone”Clark says walking with Bucky to the door and locks it behind them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roo's HalloCream Extravaganza

It's that spooky season again so I've put together a little challenge for y'all. Before we get too far, let's go over the basic.

What you can write:

any fandom, any pairing, any character (I mostly stick to MCU, DC, GoT, and fandoms with common actors, oh and Tolkien, but no limits)

dark fics preferably, anything but fluff will be accepted

minimum length of 500 words, maximum will be open but understand it may take me longer to read.

My no-no spots:

no incest, no bestiality, no underage, no stepdad or step-anything, no excrement or piddles, no ddlg, no infantilization.

How to enter?

pick a card, any card from below.

send in a number and your username through this form. (only one person per card until they are all claimed; in the form, you will be prompted for a second and third pick in case yours is already taken.

have fun writing your wildest dreams. you may interpret your prompt in any way you wish but they all have a creepy-ish tone. choose any au, kink, tropes that strike your fancy.

optional: dm me if you want to join the discord server for this challenge.

tag your fic as #rooshallocream