#fantasy!steve rogers x reader

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [1 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You learn the hard way what it takes to survive this new life. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, More tags to be added

A/N: i had too much fun with this concept so i decided to stretch it out into more than one part! i really hope you guys enjoy.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Sweetmeat?” He says, tapping the underside of your chin with the flat of his blade. His bright blue eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I’m telling you to run.” You jump, gasping as he turns the sword with a flick of his wrist, bringing it down in one smooth motion to cut the thick length of rope between your outstretched hands. It falls to the dry grass between your feet, and he straightens back up in the saddle. The massive Clydesdale paws impatiently at the dirt as he laughs again.

“Run.” 

You do, with the orc-pack’s laughter burning in your ears. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you sprint. You gather your dusty skirts up around your knees as you make for the tree line. The sound of a horn spurs you onward. 

“The river, Sweetmeat!” His voice carries to you from across the hill. “You’ve only to make it to the river!”

Dry branches tear at your face and clothes as you force your way into the brush. The fear disorients you, but only for a moment. They will run you down if you take the path, sure as daylight. Instead, you make the choice to stick to the trees, moving between them as quietly as you can. You’d seen what the blue-eyed-orc had done to the others—one by one offering them the same choices— 

Run and die. Run or die—

No one got to live.  

It made a sick sort of sense, you supposed, if you used Orc-logic. They were weak—unworthy of the water it would take to sustain them, of the burden it would take for a rider to bear them. You had watched as first the baker’s boy, then the cobbler, and then the smithy each followed the blue-eyed-orc’s instruction, stumbling down the mountain path and disappearing into the trees—only to be brought back at dusk, their remains thrown to the wargs.

Your father had been good for little else but finding his next ale, but he’d paid his guild taxes same as everyone. And a fat lot of good it did him. The few soldiers stationed at the outpost nearest your village had been felled laughably easily, almost as easily as your father. And now he was gone, and you were here, a day’s ride south of the charred remains of your village.

The horn blows behind you a second time, and you swallow your terrified sob. No—you mustn’t panic. It is fear and panic that will get you caught. Your mother’s voice rings in your ears. Find green, she whispers as you crawl through the trees. Find green.

And you will find water.

The trees aren’t dead, not really, not at the roots. There’s thick brown moss growing at the roots, between the sparse patches of dry grass. You fall to your knees, ripping at it. The top layer is dry and brown, flaking away easily under your fingernails. But underneath—

Green. 

The sound of hoofbeats approaching on the nearby path quickens your step. North—the river is north. You gather what is left of your torn skirts in your hands, trying to stay low and quiet. You have seen the thick-shafted arrows strapped to the backs of the broad-shouldered orc warriors, and you’ve no desire to feel them bury themselves in your back. 

“Fan out!”

Half-blind you push forward, your own ragged breath deafening in your ears. You’re not going to make it—there is no river, there never was, there’s nothing for you to find out here, nothing—

And then you see it. 

The river is drawn back from the bank, a shrunken skeleton of itself—but it is here. From the width of the bank and the depth of the riverbed, you can tell it was once a mighty thing, now tamed by the unending drought. The red clay is dry and crumbling beneath your bare feet as you stumble toward the water. It is cool on your feet as you splash into it, your feet sinking into the mud. 

There is a sound like a whistle, like a switch splitting the air before it parts skin, and an arrow sinks into the wet clay by your feet. 

“Don’t stop now, Sweetmeat. You’re so close.” The voice is taunting, and hatefully familiar. Slowly you turn, and the blue-eyed-orc is there on the bank. His bow drawn, another arrow already nocked.  You stare at one another, your heart pounding in your chest. You wait for him to draw back the bow, to loose the arrow—he doesn’t. After a moment, he lowers it. 

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, cocking his head. “You’re not going to run?” 

“No.” You don’t want to die like your father—cowering, with an axe between his shoulder blades that he never saw coming. “I would see my death.” The blue-eyed-orc grins, one sharp fang hanging over his lip. 

“Oh?” To surprise, he stores the arrow back in its quiver, and takes a step closer. “You’ve no weapon to meet it.” 

“It will come whether I’ve steel or none.” You match his step, taking one further back into the river. The muddy water laps at your calves, soaking into your dress. Over the sound of rushing water and the thunder of your own heartbeat, you hear the horses. The riders approach lazily, slowly, like they know you’re cornered. 

You are. 

The pack doesn’t interfere; don’t come any closer than twenty or thirty paces from the riverbank, content to watch as the blue-eyed one circles you like a wolf. 

“Not going to beg, either, I imagine.” He says, and trembling, you shake your head. You’re up to your knees in water now, your skirts soaked and dragging in the current. You are expecting him to unsheathe the massive, hooked axe on his back, to bring your death down upon you swiftly—but he does not even reach for it. Instead, he reaches for your face, cupping your chin in his huge hand. 

“What are you called?” When you answer, he rolls your name around in his mouth like mead. He turns your head this way and that, like someone inspecting an animal for sale. You know he must feel it, the race of your pulse under his fingertips. After a moment, he pulls back, directing his sharp gaze over his shoulder. 

“Bring a horse for her, Buck.” He says, licking his lips. You watch as a ripple passes through the pack at the impact of his decision.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask hoarsely, your teeth still clenched tight with fear. He grins at you over his shoulder as he makes for the bank.

“A deal’s a deal, Sweetmeat,” he replies, beckoning you to follow. “You get to live.” 

to be continued

next

#chris evans fandom #cevans fandom #chris evans fic #cevans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers AU #Orc AU #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers imagine #dark fantasy AU #AU #boxofbonesfic

[biteofcherry]

Hope you have a safe train ride, Eva!

Who are you sharing a compartment with?

Steve

Ari

Andy

Why not all three? 😏

It's a long ride and I have three holes 🤭🫣

Andy, Steve and Ari are on a business trip and were supposed to drive one of their cars, but there was a problem starting it, so they simply decided to get on the train. Less chance at traffick fucking up their schedule.

You saved up a bit to splurge for your trip, so you bought yourself a ticket in a first class compartment. More room and privacy. When you booked it, only your seat was taken, but when these three walk into your compartment you don't mind it much.

They're charming, make you a little shy, but manage to coax you into flirting.

Then Ari's hand rests on your knee, gently pulling on it, so your legs spread. Steve's leg nudges between your thighs just as Andy closes the curtains...

Soft, demanding lips swallow your pitiful protests, while warm hands slide your panties down.

You've never kissed while bent forward, but you do now, as someone's mouth licks into you from behind. Then your cheeks are squished in a firm grip, your face turned to the side and a big cock is pushed into your mouth.

Thick fingers coax your first release, while the cock drives further down your throat. A third pair of hands skilfully unbuttons your cardigan and tugs your bra down; he cups your breasts and plays with them, pinches your nipples until you squirm and clench.

Three low, deep voices praise and degrade you sweetly, turning each of their promises to take your holes into reality as the fingers from your pussy move to stretch your rim.

Each of them takes your mouth at least once. Each enjoys your drippy, wet pussy, too. They make you cum even as you cry that you can't anymore.

A hand sticky with your juices clamps over your mouth when your ass is slowly forced down onto a throbing cock.

They hold you spread while one fucks your unused hole, giving a perfect view and access to your pussy.

A few slaps on your clit have you coming again. Then there are more fingers pushing in and a mouth sucking you into oblivion.

Your mouth falls open again, tongue sticking out to suck on a pretty cock.

You had your plans for that trip, but as Andy, Steve and Ari help you dress and compose yourself (though none wipes away their cum leaking out of you), they invite you to their hotel suite. Their business meetings will be stressful and you're such a sweet, pliant release for them.

#Navy #Navybrat817 #Andy Barber x reader #Ari Levinson x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Andy Barber x Ari Levinson x reader x Steve Rogers #Train ride fantasy #Fun asks

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

#steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #knight steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #medeival au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #ocaruj me #bewitch me #pomiluj me #love me tender #anika ann

[ronearoundblindly]

Dirty Water

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

Prompt from this dirty ask game with our pairing from the Sun, Salt, and Shield series.

Summary: After a very long (but unofficial) courtship, where Steve is too shy to bring up your anatomy and his compatibility, a cultural misinterpretation quite literally sinks his resolve.

Warnings for smut (I'm gonna have to call this what it is and just say it's monster-f**king, or the one where Steeb gets maybe-CNC-boinked by a 'monster.' Sorry, babes. Ro's dipped a toe into the darkside for a smidge.) MINORS DNI. Poorly--or rather, not--edited and I have no idea the word count...

Steve swallows harshly and tries not to nervously splash his feet in the pool.

"What?" he chokes out.

He can't think of anything more articulate to say, not that it would matter when so much is lost in translation.

All you did was ask about the singing outside the doors of your 'room'--the retrofitted gym pool at the Avengers compound, the one is the basement without windows for your highly sensitive eyes--but he...could never have predicted why you were so curious.

"They're just enjoying themselves," he'd chuckled, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Do you sing?"

The look on your face, jaw slack and head tilting in contemplation, it should have warned him. You unfurled from your relaxed posture, the stance where your arms cross behind your back and fit atop the swell of your--he'd say tail, but it's more like your ass--rump, the rest of your body bent in a curve until your fin nearly touches the surface, and inched closer to his feet in the deep end.

"Yessssss," you hissed slowly through three rows of sharp teeth, crawling up his legs, out of the water, dripping over his lap as you braced large, webbed hands on either side of his hips.

Even in the very low light of damp room, he could see the lavender of your stare drop to his crotch.

"You sing too?"

Steve's an idiot. He didn't understand yet, so that dumbass actually began humming 'You Are My Sunshine' because nothing else occurred to him.

Then he noticed your tail glowing beneath the scales.

Then he realized you were pressing yourself to his legs.

Aaaand then Steve Rogers looked down your body to witness his knee disappearing in a spongy spot where the armoring swelled apart.

Oh god.

"What?" he now asks like an frightened teen seeing boobs for the first time.

"I make you sing?" Your broad green lips turn up in a smile. "Show me."

Suddenly, Steve's forgotten more english than you've learned. "Huh?"

Your flowing, textured hair, shapely even out of the water, sways when you cock your head to the side, looking through your lashes at him.

"How Stevie sing?"

He shivers for the first time in the cool water and lets an involuntary grunt leave his lips.

He's tried to stop himself from imagining your body and how it works to...ya know, and how he might...oh god, he's going to hell, but apparently, you've already been imagining that humans are either masturbating or fucking outside your door at all hours all the time--

--and oh shit, that means you sing as a part of sex.

He turns his head to the almost black ceiling and fails to think of anything else as the light from your body reflects in waves on every wall. He whimpers when he feels a ripple of muscle through the wet cotton of his jeans.

"Doll make Stevie sing?" Your voice is hoarse, and just as quickly as you say that by his throat, you flip back into the water. You can only breathe air for so long without hurting your throat and lungs.

He thinks he's off the hook, praying the tightness in his pants dissipates faster than they'll take to dry, but he lowers his head to find you peeking from the water, intent as ever on learning his ways.

He should be ashamed, so very fucking ashamed, of how badly he wants to take himself out of his pants and watch the wonder of those pretty eyes as he comes at the thought of you, but Steve's drowning in the hope that he can have you. It's been so long that he's wanted this, even in the most innocent ways.

Your final plea bubbles to the surface.

"Show?"

Steve inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair and licking his lips.

This is wrong, he thinks. You should not be doing this.

Yet he does it anyway because he wants to; he wants to so badly.

He sits up straight at the edge of the concrete, popping the button of his jeans and aches as he lowers the zipper. He can't meet your eye while he pulls out his semi-hard cock and fists it harshly.

You're so long that even looking away leaves your shimmering tail in sight, and he thinks he sees you rattle in excitement. It makes him shiver again, and the vibration shakes the moan escaping his tight chest.

Yikes, it does sound a bit like he's singing...

What the hell are you even doing?

Of course, he knows he's touching himself and he knows well enough how to do that, but he shouldn't be doing this in front of you, much less enjoying it. His blood is running so hot beneath his skin, though, the chilly pool feels soothing over his shins where he rolled up his pants (to no avail).

The heat floods his veins and mind to the point rational thought quiets, and Steve's eyes slither up your demure form.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more noise he makes, and his rampant imagination feeds off the sight of that gap in your scales visible as it undulates in the refraction beneath his feet.

He leans his head back and closes his own eyes at just the wrong moment.

Mid-whine, he misses the splashing sound that would have warned him you were coming, and instead Steve is pummeled by the end of your tail and topples into the pool, shocked and sputtering salty water until his body is pinned to the flat of the concrete wall he used to be perch on.

As he scrambles to toss his arms over the ledge, he feels claws dragging his jeans farther down his legs, and the fabric hangs like an anchor while the silky-slick webbing of your fingers glides up and down his thighs.

Then your tongue runs the length of his cock, making Steve moan embarrassingly loud and thrust his hips forward. If he weren't in the water, he'd be a puddle.

Pleasure races up and down his spine, fighting for dominance over the feeling of cold when he slips from the ledge and submerges briefly.

He barely registers the loss of your tongue and your quick lap of swimming before you're backing into him again.

It's on your ass, too, the soft entrance like you rubbed against his knee, but he could not have imagined what it could do--what you could do--how you could manipulate your muscles inside your tail.

He has no brainpower left to describe it. Steve just lets go, trusting your body to hold his weight as one hand grips the mossy softness of your waist and the other hand spreads over your lower back. Out of instinct, he tries to get leverage to push himself in and out of you, but that's useless.

There's a strong ripple of muscle that pulls him in, and in, and in, delicately tight on his sensitive cock and wide enough to slowly suck his balls into the massaging cavern.

Steve's eyes roll far into his head. He's going to pass out if this keeps up.

"Doll," he gasps, but it's too quiet in the slosh of the water. "Please, I'm--"

A clear, high note crescendos from the deep below, something disturbingly pure and paralyzing, and Steve can't move. He can only feel and experience a siren's song in action.

His body twitches violently before his cum is milked sensually, desperately, methodically from his cradled and ravaged pelvis, and never in Steve's long life has he ever been so fucking spent.

He whimpers when your cunt releases him, only faintly aware that he's propped on your back by his elbows as you swim to the shallow end and let him 'stand' on his shaky legs.

The screeching hinge of the door startles him.

"Cap," the junior agent yells over your hiss from the bright light spraying in, "everything okay? I heard..."

Yeah, I couldn't describe it either, Steve thinks.

He spits water from his mouth. "Fine," he huffs back, "we were...singing, and I fell in."

"Oh. Alright. Sorry to disturb you, Miss G." The man nods his apology at your hand-covered eyes and leaves.

Steve can't help but laugh like an insane person, laying to properly float in the water, uncaring what you're up to until he gently hits the stairs leading out of the pool.

Your head rises out of the water hopefully, and he cups your cheeks, still chuckling. He has zero words to describe...anything at the moment, but he can show you a human tradition of affection in return.

Shifting as easily as a feather in the water, he pulls you two together and sweetly presses his salmon lips to your seaweed pout, letting your long locs fall over his own shoulders.

Soon, he's gasping for air again, yet just before you dunk below the surface, you grin and coo at him.

"Stevie sings lovely."

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

what...the hell have i done. *hits post before final two braincells protest*

@fandom-has-taken-me-hostage @leah2901 @blogbog710 @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @jamneuromain

#dirty asks #ask game #sun salt and shield series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #tw monsterfucking #deep sea mermaid #mermaid!reader #mermaid au #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #fantasy au #i do not have any idea how to properly tag this HALP

[sinner-as-saint]

some ancient call

Gargoyle!Steve x Mermaid!Reader (fantasy au) 

Run-through: When Steve first came to this peaceful, magical country where all manners of magical beings lived together in harmony, he didn’t know what to expect. He was a stern, stone cold and grumpy male so he was surprised when he managed to even make friends. And he was even more surprised when his heart of stone suddenly began racing whenever a certain pretty mermaid was in sight. He’d never been in love or liked someone before, he didn’t know how. So despite his feelings, he kept pushing you away. Afraid that he might ruin it all. But you were a stubborn one, and you refused to give up on the handsome gargoyle. 

Themes: grumpy x sunshine trope, fluff, smut, mermaid!reader, gargoyle!steve, banters, slight enemies to lovers, virgin!reader, hurt/comfort, size difference, HEA

You smiled to yourself, standing on the jetty.

You were beyond thankful for your witch friend because thanks to her magical crystals, shifting to be able to walk on land was now ten times easier. 

Her magic acted like an amplifier to your own and shifting was quicker than it naturally was. Now, whenever you wanted to roam the woods, or go visit your friends on land, or even just get out of the lake for a while you could shift from having fins to having legs in the blink of an eye. 

You quickly slipped on the dress you’d brought with you as you stood on the jetty. Sure, it was completely drenched right now. But it was a flimsy thing and given that the sun was out, it would dry in no time. Besides, you of all people didn’t mind the wetness. 

You loved the lake. The tranquillity, the stillness in the air. How it was always foggy, and cold. There were a few lakes on these lands, the others were much larger and less cold so most of your friends moved but you remained here. This was your favourite place ever. Your friends visited often, almost each day but for the most part, the lake was your spot. 

The cold morning air made you shiver but you loved it. The birds chirped from deep inside the nearby woods, the sunrise turned the sky golden and the faintest of blues. You walked along the jetty and stared right ahead at another thing you loved about this lake and its surroundings - the two storey cabin which belonged to a certain grumpy, but dangerously handsome gargoyle. 

The first time you met Steve was when you were roaming the woods one morning, a few years ago… 

As per usual, that day you had gotten out of the lake, shifted and got dressed, then went for a walk. You had always loved the woods, the feeling of cold dirt and moss beneath your feet, the sound of birds and the feeling of rough tree barks. Not to mention the wild berries you loved so much. 

You often gathered a bunch and took them to the witch, who was one of your best friends, and she would bake them into the most delicious pies for you. 

So that day, while you were gathering your berries and dreaming about pies, you heard something in the woods. It sounded like a male voice. A grunt of some sort. Worried that someone might be injured you followed the sound and went to investigate. 

And that’s when you saw him. The gargoyle, lifting heavy rocks. Exercising, you figured. You couldn’t look away. He looked mostly like a human male, just much larger and taller than most. With large, dark mammalian wings. Like those of a bat just way larger. He also had a pointy tail. And horns at his hairline. He had longish dark hair, dark stubble on his face and a focused look in his eyes. He looked more like a fallen angel than a beast. 

His bare, muscular chest glistened in the minimal sunlight, his dark pants hugged his strong legs and you found your heart racing at the sight of his physique. Muscular arms, thick biceps, large hands, and he lifted those rocks like they weighed nothing. You watched him from behind a tree. Watched how his muscles flexed and moved. How he grunted and groaned occasionally. 

You’d never found a male this fascinating to look at before. But this beast of a male was a proper sight to behold. You watched like a little creep. 

Then you jumped in surprise when he said, out of nowhere, “You know it’s rude to stare.” His deep, monotonous voice sent shivers down your entire body. He didn’t stop lifting though, even as you sheepishly stepped out from behind the tree. 

“I apologise, I… I heard you and I was curious.” You said. Silence. “I’ve never seen you before, are you new here?” You asked with a smile. He grunted in response, still not meeting your eyes. “What’s your name?” You pushed, ignoring the way your body tingled just watching him. 

A grunt. Then, “Steve.” He answered, finally looking up at you. His eyes took your breath away but the look he gave you made you feel like you were next to nothing. He looked annoyed by your presence. Like he couldn’t bear to look at you for another second. 

Despite that, you gave him your best smile. “Well, hello Steve!” You said cheerfully, “I’m-,” 

“Go away.” He grunted, cutting you off rather rudely, before getting back to exercising. You watched him for a few more seconds, blinking and unable to process the unnecessary rudeness. He dropped the rocks and began doing pushups on the ground. 

You couldn’t bear the sight of his sinful body then. So you turned around and walked away quickly. Your face was burning in embarrassment. Though you could feel his stare on your back as you walked away. 

You huffed in anger once you were out of the woods. Screw the handsome gargoyle. He was the rudest male you’d ever encountered! You promised yourself you would never speak to him ever again. 

But then a week later, you bumped into him at the market. Literally bumped into him and he had to grab your elbow to keep you from falling to the ground. “Watch where you’re going.” He grunted almost angrily, still looking at you like the sight of you offended him. Wings tucked carefully behind him, tail swishing which only showed his annoyance. 

You pulled your hand away from his warm grasp, “You watch where you’re going!” You hissed, very much annoyed too. His blue eyes stared down at you. His pretty face frowned at you. He was devastatingly handsome, the kind of beauty one could stare at all day. “Don’t gargoyles turn into stone at sunrise anyway? What are you doing here then? Go perch somewhere!” 

You walked away quickly, joining your fellow mermaids at the faeries’ flower stand. He really needed to stop showing at your favourite places. First the woods, now the market? You sighed, looking around the place you were grateful you called home. 

The market was incredible, truly. Flowers, produce, meats, cheese, bread, clothes, jewellery,  you’d find anything here. Including grumpy gargoyles apparently. But you pushed the thoughts of the gargoyle with deep blue eyes and made your way over to your favourite shop, the witch’s. 

The next time you saw Steve after the market incident was at the lakeside. Your lake. And he was there lifting heavy tree logs and metal, and other tools which meant that he was building something. You watched him from the middle of the lake, only your head was visible above the surface so he didn’t notice you. But there were other males helping him so you didn’t want to get out. 

But you waited. You waited until the other males left at the end of the day. At around sunset, you got as close to the pebbly shore as possible, shifted and quickly put on your little dress before you walked up to the gargoyle and yelled in his face as he was packing up to leave. 

“What do you think you’re doing near my lake?” You asked, looking around at the logs which now after a day’s work looked like the foundation for something. A house, you realised. He was building a house. Here. 

“Building a cabin.” He grunted, wiping his hands on a cloth and paying little attention to you. He wouldn’t even look at you. 

You hissed, “Oh I don’t think so! I will not have a rude, grumpy neighbour. You… you cannot build a house here, not near my lake!” You argued, pissed off. 

Steve finally looked at you, staring into your eyes. “The lake might be yours, mermaid. But the lands surrounding it aren't. Besides, last I checked, this was a free country and anyone can build a home wherever they want as long as they’re not harming anyone.” He said. It was the most he’d ever said to you and you couldn’t help but notice how nice his deep voice was. 

You argued, unreasonably but desperately, “Well this is causing me a lot of harm.” 

He shrugged, wings moving behind him. His tail kept swishing around. He threw the cloth into a large bag filled with tools then picked the bag up and grunted, “I don’t care. I’m free to do what I want. In fact,” His voice deepened a little more as he took a step towards you, now standing mere inches away from you. You trembled at the proximity, that space between your legs tingling as he spoke, “I may even row across that little lake of yours if I wish to.” 

You held his stare, fuming as you said, “You so much as dip your toe into my lake, I will drown you.” Then you turned around and walked away. 

For the next few weeks, you didn’t see Steve at all. Mainly because you either stayed in your underwater caves or you spent all your time in the other lakes with your friends, or with your friends on land. You weren’t willing to admit it but you didn’t want to look at Steve at all, you didn’t want to watch his glorious body moving around as he built his house, with some of his friends’ help. So you stayed away as much as possible. 

But then came the day that changed everything. 

You reached near the shore, eyeing the cabin Steve had been building. The first floor was almost done, you noticed. And you hated to admit it but it looked cosy even when incomplete. You scoffed at the thought of the gargoyle. Was he in there right now? You knew he’d been wearing the magical crystals which helped him not turn into stone. So could he be walking around in his house right now?

You were just about to shift and maybe go peak in there when you felt a sudden pain in your tail. You looked down and found a large cut, from the middle of your tail down to your fins almost. You froze. You were bleeding and the pain was excruciating and you’d never seen so much blood before, so you panicked. 

Your tail flicked quicker in the shallow water because you couldn’t keep it still in panic but the movement also made you bleed even more. You hissed and cried in pain, not knowing what to do. 

And just then, you heard the flap of huge wings. You had tears in your eyes so as you looked up all you saw was a male figure with huge wings soaring above you, diving straight down to where you were. And in just a few moments, Steve landed on the shallow waters beside you. The water only came up to his thighs as he rushed over to you quickly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” He said as he picked you up with ease, carrying you over to his cabin, “I’m here. I’ve got you, little one. It’s gonna be okay.” He carefully set you down on his large porch and assessed your wound. “What happened?” He asked. 

You sniffled, unable to look at it, “It must be one of the sharp rocks near the shore. I didn’t… it hurts so bad.” You cried, clutching his hand like your life depended on it. You looked up into his eyes and he looked like he was thinking about what to do. 

But then your eyes began drooping… and you watched the panicked expression on Steve’s face. You remember him cupping your face, saying, “Hey, stay with me. Come on, don’t…” His voice faded into nothing and there was only darkness after that. 

When you woke up again, you were in a large metal tub filled with lake water, with a pillow supporting your neck. The first thing you noticed was the fireplace keeping the room warm. And that you were indoors. You tensed up and looked down at your tail and found it properly bandaged. You could smell the medicine but you didn’t remember anything. You looked around, confused. 

Then a voice spoke up from the other side of the room. “You’re safe, don’t worry.” Steve said, walking up and standing by the side of the tub as he looked down at you. You immediately crossed your hands over your bare chest to hide your body but… you noticed you were wearing a shirt. 

One that was too large for you. One that would fit Steve’s huge shoulders. You were in Steve’s shirt. You looked up at him, a questioning look in your eyes as you watched him crouch down beside the tub. He rubbed his neck awkwardly and said, “I, uh… I had to go get the witch and her partner and, uh, I figured you wouldn’t wanna be naked around others, right?” 

You almost melted. Tears pooled in your eyes. You looked at him in gratitude. “Thank you, Steve.” You said, then pointed at your wound, “My friend, um, she did that?” 

Steve nodded, “Yeah. The witch also put medicine in the water and said that you are supposed to soak in it until tomorrow night. Hence the tub. She also said you have to keep the tail still so it can heal better. So, uh, we’re gonna be housemates for a while I suppose.” 

You thought about all the mean things you said to him and your eyes watered again. “Steve, I’m sorry,” You sniffled, “I am so, so sorry for everything I ever said to you. I take it all back.” You said. “Thank you for helping me.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

Steve didn’t smile, didn’t say anything. He just nodded and stood up again. “Is the fire okay? The witch said the warmth will do you good.” 

You smiled and nodded, “It’s okay. Thank you.” You said again. 

Steve just nodded and turned to walk away. “Yell if you need anything, I’ll be outside.” 

You looked out the nearest window and noticed it was still bright outside, maybe late in the afternoon so Steve must be outside building stuff. And sure enough, you heard the sound of him hammering shortly after. But the medicine soon put you to sleep. 

When you woke up again, it was morning. You’d slept for hours it seemed. You were to remain in the tub Steve had said and with your tail injured, you couldn’t shift either. So you sighed in the tub, and that’s when Steve walked in. 

“No need to pout. Just sit still until it heals and then you can go wherever you want.” He said, handing you food on a plate. 

“I’m not pouting,” You said, shoving bread and cheese in your mouth. “I’m just not used to staying in one place for too long.” 

Steve grunted, crouching down by the tub and inspected your tail casually, “I could tell by the way you shifted around, tossing and turning all night long in that tub.” 

You stopped chewing for a moment. “You were in here with me all night?” You asked. 

Steve looked up at you and nodded. “There’s a medicine that needs to be poured into the tub every two hours, so…” He trailed off. 

“Oh Steve,” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’m terrible for being so mean to you before. I’m so sorry.” You whispered. You’d misjudged the male, you quickly realised. 

He grunted again, then took the empty plate from you and handed you a small vial of what you assumed was medicine. “Drink, sleep. You need rest to be able to heal.” He said, then turned around and walked away. 

You did as he asked and slept for the majority of the day. Steve woke you up once during the day and gave you some more food and more medicine. You felt much better already, the pain was almost gone. 

You woke up from another nap and noticed that it was night time. The witch’s magic and medicine had worked perfectly because now you could move your tail around in the tub with absolutely no pain. 

Steve walked in and saw you looking down at your tail, smiling like crazy. He grunted, “You’re all healed I see. Ready to go back home?” 

You nodded, and watched him approach the tub. He slid his arms in and picked you up easily then walked towards the door. It was nice and cool outside, and the lake looked magical with all the fog and moonlight. 

Steve walked towards the shore and stepped into the water. He stopped when the water was at his waist before gently lowering you down in it. He stayed still for a moment as you tested your swimming. He watched you as you swam around him once, twice then dove in for a few seconds before coming back, smiling at him. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore!” You exclaimed, swimming closer to him and throwing your arms around his neck without thinking. But to your surprise, your grumpy neighbour wrapped an arm around you. “Thank you, Steve. I don’t know what I would do without you. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you.” 

“Be careful.” He said as you pulled away. Then he looked down at you and handed you something. It was another vial of medicine. “Drink it before going to sleep.” 

You couldn’t help but tease him, “Who knew you’d be such a good nurse, Steve?” You took the vial and drank it. Then said, swimming around him, “Think I’ll come knocking on your door whenever I’m hurt now.” 

He grunted. “I better hold on to that tub then.” 

You chuckled. “Thank you for everything.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He went so still you were afraid he might’ve turned to stone in the water. You held back from giggling and said, “Good night, neighbour. I’ll see you soon.” 

You knew he watched you as you swam away. 

When you swam up to the surface the next day, you found Steve working on something in the water. But it wasn’t his house. So you swam as close as you could to the shore, not wanting to shift yet and neither wanting to cut yourself again, and called out, “What are you doing?” 

Steve turned to look at you, then turned back around and said, “Building a jetty.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

“It’ll extend deep into the lake.” He explained slowly, though grumpily. “So you don’t have to get close to the shore to shift. You can just get on it, shift, and walk down to the shore. No more cuts, and no more mermaids in tubs in my living room.” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips. “Was I that bad of a housemate?” You asked. 

Steve turned to look at you, with that same frown on his pretty face. Except now you didn’t mind it because you knew it was just a mask. Deep down, he was a caring and kind soul. The frown, the grunts, the grumpiness and the rude tone was just his armour that he wore. 

“You snore.” He accused in all seriousness, then got back to work. 

“I do not!” You laughed then swam a little closer. “Do you need help?” 

And so, it took you two a few days but the jetty was built nicely. It was sturdy too. And on the day that you finished building, you both sat on the edge and shared a quick dinner of bread, cheese and fresh berries. 

You thought it’d be better to not shift for a few more days so you sat beside Steve on the jetty with your tail dipped in the water. You noticed the way Steve looked at your tail just swishing around. 

“It’s healed up nicely.” You told him, looking into his eyes. Steve nodded but didn’t say anything and stared ahead. You watched his side profile and really, it should be a crime for someone to have that perfect of a side profile. His wings were tucked in behind him, his tail lay flat on the wood. He seemed so… relaxed. “I really am sorry, Steve.” You said.

This made him look right at you. “You’ve apologised many times.” He said. 

“I feel so bad.” You admitted. “I’ve been so mean to you and you still took care of me.” 

He shrugged. “Any good neighbour would.” 

You smiled at him. Then asked, “Can we be friends?” 

To your surprise, he nodded. “Yes. We can.” He said. 

And so was born a rather peculiar camaraderie between you and Steve. You’d often go check up on him as he built the last bits of his house. You’d smile and say hello, and he’d grunt. You’d often bring him bread and cheese from the market. When you collected berries, you’d leave some on his front porch if ever he was asleep or just not home. Then you’d constantly poke your head up on the surface and check if he took them. 

He always did. 

And right now, as you walked down the jetty, one look at the cabin let you know that Steve wasn’t home. Oh well, guess annoying him would have to wait. 

So you made your way to the market as usual. You met up with your friends before making your way to your favourite shop. Except one you walked in, instead of the witch, you found a certain gargoyle with blue eyes moving around in there like the shop was his instead. 

“Oh hello Steve!” You smiled at him. 

He gave you a curt nod, then got back to arranging things on a shelf. 

“So… what exactly are you doing here?” You asked, browsing through the jewellery and the charms. “Where’s Bucky?” 

Steve answered as he carefully labelled each vial. “The witch is expecting their second child sometime later this week. Bucky asked her not to work in this condition. And he’s at home with her, so I offered to manage the shop until they’re ready to take over again.” He didn’t lift his head once. You were used to his standoff-ish manner now so you didn’t mind, neither did you mistake it for rudeness. 

Although it was a little weird watching him be normal with others. With his friends, for instance, he’d laugh and joke and be relaxed around them. Around you on the other hand, he seemed tense most of the time. 

“I see,” You smiled at the thought of your friend and Bucky. They were such an adorable couple. “So you’ll be working here for a while-,” You stopped talking the moment you turned around and found Steve standing just inches away from you. You were surprised because you hadn’t heard him move at all. “Um, hello.” You said nervously given the gargoyle did nothing but just stare down at you. Given his beastly height and build, you had to crane your head up to look at him. 

Steve only said, “You’re drenched.” 

You chuckled, “Well, I do live in a lake, Steve.” 

He didn’t say anything, he just stared. 

You followed his eyes and looked down to find your nipples all perked up and showing through the flimsy, wet fabric. “Oh,” You awkwardly crossed your arms over your chest, “Um, well usually my dresses dry out in the sun but it’s rather cloudy today.” You answered, your face burning in embarrassment. 

Steve grunted, then said, “Leave your clothes at the cabin. I’ll leave the door open so you can go in there and change. And be dry. Instead of walking around looking like… like this.” He said in his usual grumpy tone. 

“Oh,” You were surprised at his hospitality. “Thank you, Steve. You’re very kind.” You said, then couldn’t help but want to break the sudden, strange tension that had formed between you two. You chuckled and said, “I didn’t know a naked body could bother you that much.” You teased. 

Silence. Then without another word said, Steve leaned in. You took a small step back, your back now pressing against the bookshelf behind you. You couldn’t look away from his eyes. Steve placed a hand beside your head, caging you in. Your heart began racing. 

In that deep voice of his he said, “Your body doesn’t bother me, little one. But the thought of every other male watching you walk around like this does.” 

“Oh.” You shivered, mere inches separated you from him. If you wanted, you could press your front to his and bask in his warmth. But you were too surprised to move. Plus the heat radiating off of his body was intoxicating. You looked up at his face, really looked at him. His hair which kept getting longer, his horns as dark as his wings, the stubble on his cheeks which only made him look even more handsome. 

Perhaps it was the sharpness of his clenched jaws, or the softness in his eyes but something made you stand on your tiptoes so you could press your mouth against him. Steve’s warm hands were on you immediately. His mouth moved cautiously against yours, his hands wrapping around you to pull you closer and slightly off the ground. You let out a soft moan as he teased you with his tongue and he growled against your open mouth before kissing you deeper. 

Your arms around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair as you pulled him closer gently. Steve, despite his natural roughness, was careful with how he handled you. His mouth moved softly against yours, kissing you deeper and passionately. You wanted to hold on to his horns, just to see what it feels like but then you figured that would be too much. 

Your drenched dress and his shirt was the only thing separating your bodies but somehow, for now this was enough. Steve was the first one to pull away, gently. He carefully set you back on your feet and stared into your eyes. You couldn’t help but look down at those swollen lips. 

“Um,” You whispered, “I think I’m gonna go now.” You stepped to the side and immediately hated it because you wanted to be pressed up against him again. But you couldn’t, not here. “I guess I’ll see you later.” You said with a shy smile and Steve remained frozen in place as you walked out of the shop. 

—

All this was new to Steve. The tingly feeling whenever he saw you, the way his heart began to race whenever you so much as spared him a glance, the way he felt the need to wrap his arms and wings around you and keep you safe from everything and everyone. 

It all started that day he first saw you in the forest. He was floored but he didn’t know how to handle it so his first instinct was to push you away, to be mean in hopes that you would never look at him again. But then he kept meeting you again and again. And each time, he couldn’t bear to ignore you. 

Being around you was enchanting, addicting. Like some ancient call that he felt the need to answer. In fact he was so deeply infatuated he chose to build his home as close to yours as possible like a fool. 

And each time he’d have to calm his racing heart when he saw you. He’d have to hold back from reaching out and touching your skin. 

The day he found you all alone and injured in the lake, he panicked. He’d never felt so protective over anyone before. Seeing you pass out from the pain was like someone took a sword and slashed his heart in two. He always thought himself incapable of feelings but then… you happened. 

And now after kissing you, after finally knowing what your lips tasted like he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pretend for much longer. 

— 

Ever since that day, Steve would leave his house unlocked in the mornings when he left to go open the shop. And slowly, day by day, he would notice your clothes accumulating in his home.

 A week later he ended up building you a trunk where you could put your dresses, then he began leaving extra towels in the shower for you to use. 

Some days later he found a comb and some strands of hair on the ground and he surprised himself when he caught a soft smile on his face while thinking about you sharing his space, his home. 

You both often had dinner on his front porch, just in comfortable silence because he believed he was awful company but given the fact that you’d come back again and again to have meals with him made him wonder that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. 

–

One morning, as per usual you got out of the lake, walked down the jetty and ran into Steve’s house. You’d long stopped checking if he was home because at this time in the morning he was never here. He was always at the shop. 

So there you were, naked as you rummaged through the trunk he’d made you. You grabbed a clean, dry dress and made your way to the shower. You were grateful for Steve because thanks to him now you could shower with warm water and pat yourself completely dry with his soft towels before getting ready to set out for the day. Such small luxuries but they made you feel so much better. 

So you grabbed your stuff and walked into the shower like you owned it. And then froze as you looked down at the large tub you intended to bathe in. There was a naked male in there, who was also frozen as he stared at you in shock. 

He looked like a god. Sitting there in a large tub, steam rising and swirling around him. His wings half dipped in the water. His damp hair stuck to his horns and face a little, the stubble on his cheeks seemed thicker. He hadn’t shaved yet, you noticed. It made him look feral. Like an ancient, forgotten god one would stumble upon in the middle of a dark forest. He made your thighs clench together just by sitting there. 

You squirmed. “Oh um,” You tried your best to hide your body with the towel. “Steve. I should’ve knocked. I’m sorry, you’re usually not home at this time. I’ll-” 

He cut you off by extending an arm out, saying, “Come. There’s room for both of us here.” 

Screw it. He’s probably seen you naked plenty of times before. So you placed the dress and the towel down and took his hand as he guided you into the spacious tub. Honestly, it could fit three beings the size of Steve so there was indeed plenty of room for you two. 

You let out a soft sigh once you were submerged into the warm water. 

“Is it too hot for you?” Steve asked. 

“Oh no it’s perfect. It is a bit chilly outside anyway, so this is nice.” You noticed the way your bodies pressed against each other as you sat beside him. Your thighs touched his but neither of you moved your legs away from one another. 

He nodded, then reached down and grabbed a bar of soap but instead of handing it to you, you watched him pause and consider something for a quick moment before he said, “Come here,” He spoke softly, pointing at the space in front of him, in between his muscular legs. 

You moved immediately, giving him your back. The moment he began lathering soap down your back and neck and arms, you had to hold back a moan at how good his hands felt moving over your skin. You could tell he was hesitant in the beginning but then you leaned back a little, getting closer to him and he took it as a sign to relax and just wash you. 

His movement was slow and gentle, the silence was comfortable. The scent of the lavender soap filled your head and everything was perfect. So you quietly leaned back completely against Steve. He was so much larger than you that your head tucked in nicely under his chin. His hands moved down your sides under the water. He was way past washing you now. He just let his hands roam your body and you let him do that because it felt nice. 

You were a bit too aware of where your bare body touched his. His muscular chest pressed against your back. Your thighs rested on top of his and something warm and hard pressed against your lower back, and it made your face heat up again. And you couldn’t help but squirm when you felt his fingers stroking your inner thigh. 

Steve let out a hiss as you accidentally rubbed against his erection. “I’m sorry,��� You mumbled, then remained still. His fingers didn’t move any higher, but the slow and deliberate strokes around your inner thighs were driving you insane. “Oh Steve,” You couldn’t help but whine, “Please, stop teasing me just… just touch me already.” 

He tensed up behind you for a moment, then said, “Turn around then.” 

You moved immediately. You stood up before turning around to face him and then lowered back down, straddling his thighs as you sat on his lap, looking right into his eyes. His large hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. 

Something changed in his eyes as you watched. He seemed much more confident, if not a little cocky now. “Want me to touch you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You nodded, blinking at him. He was so beautiful. How did you manage to stay away from him all this time? He was the most handsome male you’d ever seen. And you’d seen a lot. “Yes, please.” 

He shamelessly looked down at the water, clearly seeing how you straddled his lap. He smirked, and it took your breath away. “Where exactly would you like me to touch you?” He asked. 

You almost moaned at the sound of his voice. You reached down, grabbed his hand and guided it over to where you needed him, in between your legs and you pressed his fingers against your folds down there. “Here, please.” You whispered. 

He let out a rare chuckle. “Oh?” He moved his fingers around, “Let’s hear it then,” He slid two fingers up and down your slit, “Does that feel good?” 

You threw your head back, whining as you moved your hips against his fingers, wanting more friction. “Yes, more please…” You cried out as he gently rubbed your clit. 

Steve pressed a finger against your opening, not sliding it just yet. He asked, “You’re so sensitive. It’s been a while since someone touched you, huh?” He teased you even more, loving the way you’d squirm at the slightest of touch. 

You looked back at him, and sheepishly said, “No one’s ever touched me there.” He froze at the sound of that, then before he could pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist and held it in place as you ground your hips down on it, “Oh please, Steve. I want you. I want it to be you.” 

He growled as he leaned in to kiss you, a little more rough this time. “You’re killing me.” He said, moving his fingers once again, and carefully sliding one inside of you. “Is this what you want, hmm?” He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, the feeling was foreign to you but so pleasurable. 

You arched your back, pressing your chest into him as he finger-fucked you slowly. “Yes, more…” You murmured against his lips, gasping as he slid his finger deeper inside you. 

“Don’t be greedy,” He chided playfully. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, keeping his finger inside you as he moved his thumb around toying with your clit. You’d never been touched this way, or any way, so his fingers alone made you gasp and moan and whine louder and louder. 

“Steve,” You gasped, “You’ll never hurt me,” You whispered as you felt a pressure forming in between your legs. And before you knew it, you were coming undone all over his finger, moaning and grinding your hips against his hand. 

Steve watched you with a proud look in his eyes as you came all over his hand. The water had long gone cold, making your nipples harden and he couldn’t help but lean down to take one in his mouth. 

The warmth of his mouth made you clench around his finger which was still buried inside you and he had you whining and squirming in no time, his teeth teasing your nipple while his free hand fondled the other one. 

He was surprised when he felt your hand feeling around his abdomen until you found what you were looking for. He growled when he felt you grab his cock, stroking it slowly. Then you asked, sounding a little embarrassed, “Am I doing this right?” 

Steve released your breasts and kissed his way up your body until he reached your mouth, “Yeah. Just like that, little one.” He whispered against your mouth as you tried your hardest to jerk him off but you just wouldn’t get the hang of it. 

Steve chuckled when he heard a little growl of frustration leave your mouth. “Oh just fuck me with it,” You said, looking up at him. 

Steve just gave you a faint smile, “Not today.” 

You whined, “Why?” 

“You’re not ready. And I don’t want to hurt you. Now come on, the water’s cold.” He made to move and get up but you just slumped against his muscular chest with a groan. 

“Can we just stay here all day?” You asked, wrapping your arms around him. 

Steve held you securely and stood up, taking you with him as he stepped out of the tub. “No we can’t. I have work.” 

You groaned again as he carried you over to where your towel was. He placed you down, picked it up and carefully patted you dry. You kept trying to convince him in vain, “But what if I let you put more than just your finger inside me?” 

Steve looked up at you since he was crouched down by your feet, drying your legs. “Very tempting, but no.” 

You frowned, “But Steve-,” 

He cut you off by standing up and pulling you closer to him, hands shamelessly grabbing your butt cheeks. He pressed you to his naked body and said, “Another time, I promise. I want to be able to take my time with you. And I don’t want to hurt you. Yes?” 

You nodded, “Yes.” 

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Get dressed.” He said and you had to pretend like the authority in his voice didn’t drive you insane. 

— 

Things were casual and fun for the next coming weeks. Stolen kisses, warm hugs, and more and more pinning from your end because Steve wouldn’t do anything beyond making you come undone all over his fingers. 

The one time he did use his tongue was after a terrible joke he made when you’d tried to make him dinner. 

“What do gargoyles like to eat?” You’d asked cheerfully. 

Steve looked at you dead in the eyes and said, “Freshwater fish.” 

He’d earned himself a towel thrown at his face. Then he had apologised by bending you over his kitchen table and made you come all over his tongue. 

You wanted more than day too. But he said he didn’t want to hurt you.

So you understood, and waited. And in the meantime, your bond just solidified even more. Steve could spend hours in the evening sitting on the jetty and talking to you. You’d show him your tricks, jumping out of the water and diving back in then come back up just to see if you impressed him. 

You’d often bring him random things from the depths of the lake, mainly pretty rocks. And he’d keep them all in a box. 

—

Then the weather changed. And one evening, there was a terrible thunderstorm. Lightning and thunder echoing around and shaking the ground even. 

Steve made sure all of his windows were secure. He’d check the upstairs area twice now, no leaks, no broken window thankfully. 

He was in the middle of feeding more wood logs into the fireplace when he heard faint knocks at his front door. Due to the loud thunder he almost missed it. But he’d been hoping you’d show up. So he took a warm towel with him as he answered the door, wrapped the towel around you and pulled you in. 

He didn’t let you go immediately. He hugged your cold body close and whispered, “You’re shaking, little one. What is it?” 

You held onto him for dear life and said, “The thunder,” You sniffled and hugged him even tighter. “They echo in the caves down there, and… and-,” 

“Shh,” He cut you off. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe here.” He said, “You need a warm bath, come.” 

–

Steve left you to soak in the tub full of warm water and once you stopped shaking, you stepped out, patted yourself dry and put on clean clothes. You went back into the living area and found Steve fussing with the fireplace. 

He looked as he saw you come in. And gave you a breathtaking smile. “Warm enough?” He asked. 

You nodded. 

“Hungry?” He asked. 

“No,” You whispered. 

“Come here then,” He extended a hand out for you to take. You took it and he pulled you down beside him, both of you sitting on soft rugs in front of the fire. He immediately curled a wing around you. “Here,” He said, handing you a mug filled with warm, sweet tea. He watched as you took a careful sip then let out a moan at how good it was. 

You placed the mug down and snuggled up to him. He was warm, and cosy despite the muscles. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed, pleased with where you were. His wing wrapped around you a little better, like your personal little cocoon. It was weird to admit that this felt better than being in your lake. 

“What did you usually do during thunderstorms? When I wasn’t here?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you so close you were almost on his lap. 

“I’d hide in the caves.” You answered. “Or when I could tell the weather would be bad I’d go to the other lakes and be with my friends. But the caves are so loud, you know? I can never sleep during thunderstorms.” 

Steve sighed, wrapping both arms around you. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.” He whispered. His tail wrapped gently around your exposed leg. 

“I know,” You said, placing your hand on his clothed thigh. Then bravely slid your hand upwards to see if he would stop you. “I trust you, Steve.” You murmured, turning your head to kiss his neck. “And I want you.” Your lips brushed against his skin as you spoke and he shuddered. 

He was quiet for a few moments. Your hand kept inching closer to the hardness in his pants. He let out a groan then said, “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if I hurt you?” 

You nodded, nuzzling his neck. “I promise.” 

Next thing you knew, Steve's mouth was on yours, kissing you hard and passionately. His hands grabbed and touched you everywhere, your thighs, your waist, your breasts, his tail wrapping around your ankle, it was a lot at once. You moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands along your inner thighs. 

He nudged you backwards, making you lay down on the rug. He held himself up above you with one hand, while the other explored your body through the thin dress. 

“Take it off,” You whined, wanting to feel his touch on your bare skin. 

Steve chuckled before helping you in taking the dress off and tossing it around somewhere. Then his mouth was on your skin immediately. You arched your back, pressing up against him until he took the hint and placed his mouth around your nipple, biting down gently. 

He teased you until you were an absolute mess under him, hips trying to grind against him, your hands sliding into his hair, one wrapped around his horn while the other pulled him closer to you. 

He released your breasts and kissed his way down your body. You supported yourself up on your elbows as you watched him. He was so much larger than you, it shouldn’t turn you on so much. But it did. He seemed even more feral now in the golden light from the fire. 

Wings flared being him, tail swishing in what you now concluded was excitement as he placed his hands on your thighs and spread them as much as they would go. He stared at the wetness in between your legs before looking up and meeting your eyes with hunger in his eyes. 

“Is this alright? You want us to stop?” He asked, even though you could clearly tell he was having difficulty in holding back from ravishing you. 

You nodded quickly, “Don’t stop,” You whispered. 

He gave you a wild smirk, his tail wrapping around your ankle again and pining your leg to the ground. “Well, then.” He pressed his lips to your inner thigh, kissing his way up to where you craved him. 

You laid back down on the rug as your body squirmed. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft, long hair. Eventually grabbing onto his horns as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you cry out. The feeling of his soft, warm mouth and the roughness of his stubble made you lose your mind. 

His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. You tugged gently at his horn, pulling him closer and he growled against your skin in response. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease. You were sure your arousal must be dripping onto the rug by now.

“You taste so good,” Steve whispered. And chuckled when you let out an even louder moan at the sound of that. 

You looked down and whined at the sight of his body kneeling in between your parted legs. You could even see the erection in his pants and that alone made you grind against his mouth mindlessly. 

Steve chuckled, securing his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs spread as far as they would go. He slowly brought a finger up to your clit, sliding it agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit.

“Does that feel good?” He asked. And chuckled when you were only able to moan in response. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this, you hear me? This is mine. You’re mine.” 

“Yes…” You gasped. “All yours.” You whispered, breathless. 

He hummed in satisfaction. His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch, legs shaking as he teased your clit and finger-fucked your ever so gently. 

You squirmed and moaned and gasped under his addictive touch, your eyes closing and your head tilting back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you.

You came hard, all over his tongue, your walls clenching violently around his finger, your moans and gasps of pleasure filled the room. Your fingers scratched his scalp as you tugged harder on his horns as you came. 

You sighed in bliss as Steve left small kisses up your body until he stared deep into your eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked, so softly you almost melted. 

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I want you, please,” You begged. 

He smiled down at you, then pulled away only for a few moments, to take his shirt off and undo his pants. Then he was onto you again, pressing you down on the soft rug as he kissed you again. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of you on his tongue still.

He kept kissing you until you growled in frustration and arched your back to get closer to him. You could feel his erection pressing against you and you couldn’t wait anymore. “Steve,” You begged, whining against his mouth, “I might die if you don’t fuck me right now.” 

He smirked against your lips, kissing you one last time before pulling away. His hand reached down to grab his cock and guide it over to your opening. You were a little nervous given his size but you were also ready for it. He slid his tip up and down your wet folds, driving you insane. And while you were in the middle of whining and squirming, he slowly slipped inside of you, groaning as he went.

The feeling was new, and it was a little uncomfortable at first but it didn’t hurt. 

“Am I hurting you?” He asked with sheer desire and want in his voice, hunger in his eyes. 

You gasped, feeling him stretching you out, filling you up. He was halfway in and you already felt so full of him. “No,” You gasped, “More, please.” You begged again. 

He nodded, then held your stare as he reached down to grab your legs and wrapped them around his waist, then slowly leaned down to give you a messy kiss, sliding all the way into you finally. “Fuck,” He swore, voice cracking. “You feel so good.” 

You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he moved his hips the slightest bit. And you cried out at the feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you. He was being so careful and gentle with you, and while it warmed your heart, you also wanted more. 

You cupped his cheek, making him look right into your eyes. “You won’t hurt me,” You said, “But I… I need you.” 

He understood what you meant. Steve closed his eyes, then nodded before leaning down to kiss you again. And then he fucked you without restraints. His tail wrapping around your thigh, pulling you closer. His hands on your waist, pulling you into him each time he thrust into you. Your fingers scratched down his back until you found the base of his wings and experimented by touching them, stroking them carefully. 

Steve paused, then groaned animalistically. “Very sensitive,” He murmured. 

You smiled and traced your fingers along the length of his dark, leathery wings and Steve shuddered, reaching around to grab your hands and pinning them above your head before pounding into your again. 

You could feel your walls clenching around him as he sped up into you. You moaned, feeling all of him stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of him moving against your body. The thunder outside, you couldn’t hear it. The lightning illuminating the room occasionally, you didn’t pay attention to it. 

This was all that mattered, being in front of a fire and under Steve’s powerful body. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss you again. “So warm, and perfect for me.” He growled, “Tell me I feel good inside you, little one. Tell me.” 

You were barely able to form a thought. His hard and muscular body felt amazing against yours. His long hair tickled your skin as he moved. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. “Oh, you feel so good.” You mumbled, “So good, please don’t stop.” 

Steve looked down at you as you clenched around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “You’re all mine,” He whispered. The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again. “Are you going to come all over my cock? Hmm?” 

You nodded, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. The familiar pressure formed at your core and you whined again when his fingers found your clit as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Come for me…” he whispered and that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him. Whimpering and back arching off the floor as you came hard around his cock.

He kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze. He watched you in awe, lips parted, breaths in rags, heart racing. 

He watched you as you went limp under him, still gasping for air. He released your wrists, kissing them before placing them on either side of your head. He gave you some time, kissing up and down your neck, kissing your face until you calmed down a little. “That was so good,” He whispered against your cheek, “You did so well. But I need to have you again,” He pleaded, “I want more.” 

You nodded quickly. “I’m all yours, Steve.” 

He smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth before pulling out of you. He was still very much hard as he flipped you around, your hips and ass up while your face was pressed against the soft rug. “Is this alright?” He asked. 

You were still catching your breath when his hand reached around and teased in between your legs, his fingers rubbed around your clit and made you tremble and moan. “Yes,” You whispered. 

His body bent over yours, his warm chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until his mouth reached your ear, “You tell me if this hurts, okay?” 

You nodded, “I will.” You said. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, softly but you could hear the wild hunger in his deep, low voice. He licked along your neck and said, “I want you to come all over my cock again, you hear me?” He bit down on your shoulder and you let out a loud moan. 

You whimpered, “Yes.” You murmured, voice laced with need and lust as he pulled away from your ear and kissed along your shoulders. Then you felt his hands on you as he gripped each side of your hips then pushed into you from behind. Slow and deliberate strokes, until he fit inside you fully.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely and moved in and out of you desperately trying to make you come for him again. Your fingers gripped the rug beneath you tightly, and your mind felt foggy, you moaned wantonly as he pounded into you, not easing into it this time. He took you higher and higher. 

Your walls throbbed and clenched around him each time he filled you up. You could feel the tip of his tail reach around to toy with your clit and it only made you lose all the sanity you had. 

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls violently. “Come for me.” He hissed, then grunted loudly as you tightened around him, coming undone again.

He groaned and growled as he came deep inside you, swearing under his breath. You whimpered as you felt his warm cum filling you up. Steve laid down beside you, his wing curling around both of you, like a warm leathery blanket. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

“Yes,” You sighed. You leaned into his warmth. The thunder outside didn’t scare you anymore. “Can I stay until morning?” You asked, kissing his chest. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, and said in that deep voice of his, “You can stay forever if you’d like.” 

---

a/n: check out heartless if you wanna read about Bucky and the witch ;) 

#steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #mermaid!reader #steve rogers #fantasy au

[daughter-there-remember-fly]

#midna #denial #the perks of being a wallflower #the cure #steve rogers x reader #jennifer aniston #dark fantasy #[sketchbook] #malik delgaty #BdoubleO100 #enjolras #doggo #rawring 20s #ebonyass #gay bears

[open-executive-father-now]

#Raf Simons #sappho #jesse eisenberg #study motivation #ancient egypt #desperate housewives #digital sketch #steve rogers x reader #dark fantasy #malik delgaty #enjolras #doggo #rawring 20s #lwymmd #ebonyass

[old-drive]

#pregnant #steve rogers x reader #jennifer aniston #dark fantasy #[sketchbook] #malik delgaty #BdoubleO100 #enjolras #rawring 20s #lwymmd #ebonyass #twilight saga #gay bears #sexy pinay

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [5 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The journey to Tarrath is not one to be undertaken lightly—there are more things to fear in the untamed places of the world than stags, a lesson you are soon to learn. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy/n AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: 👀

You have been riding since before sunup, and your hips and back ache from long hours spent in the saddle. The pack sets a leisurely pace through the grass sea, meandering through the plain in a loose line. The vast mountains you knew are at your back now, shrinking into misty, faint points. They tell you how far you have come with their distance, and you wonder how many steps you have taken since last you were the person you had been before. 

Since you left the woman you were supposed to be by the riverside—and how many more you will have to take to become someone else entirely. Though it has been only a fortnight sine you watched the village burn, it feels like a lifetime ago. Someone else’s memory, someone else’s eyes. 

The pack keeps a steady pace until the sun is high in the sky and the mountains are meaningless pinpricks. The land changes too, the flat plains turning into rolling hills that remind you of the cresting waves you have seen painted in books and on tapestries. The only difference is, these don’t come crashing down to drown you, the grass whispering quietly in the breeze. 

You ride somewhere in the middle of the line, the pack stretching both before and behind you, riding towards the sun as it begins to sink low in the sky. You can see Steve near the front, his sword strapped between his broad, bare shoulders. Like he can feel your gaze, he turns back, one thick fang hanging over his lip as he grins. You drop your head, your cheeks burning. 

Let them see.

When you look up again, he’s gone. 

—

Night on the grass sea is beautiful. A thousand thousand stars glow like fireflies caught in tar, stretching out further than you can see into the darkness. The pack does not stop, continuing at the same pace as all light fades, and the moon rises cold and clear. At first, the sheer drop in temperature is enough to keep you awake—without the thick furs and blankets neatly rolled and strapped to your horse, your ripped dress offers less protection against the biting wind. But after a few hours, despite the chill, your eyelids begin to droop heavily, your shoulders dropping as you slump in the saddle. 

It is the feel of Steve’s warm hand on your back that wakes you, instantly jolting you into panicked awareness as you turn sharply to glare at him. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat,” he replies. “I mean only to keep you from breaking your neck.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless that is your wish this night.” 

You scowl. “No, I—thank you.” The words come haltingly.

“The journey is a long one.” Steve shrugs. “You will learn to sleep in the saddle.” 

“Or fall out of it,” you mutter, and he laughs, a loud boisterous sound that carries out into the night. 

“You never cease to amuse, Sweetmeat,” he says after a moment, the words still colored with the sound of his mirth. “I wonder what the elders shall make of you.” There is fear at his words, but your curiosity burns just as brightly. 

“What is it like?” You ask. “Your city?”

“In your tongue, Tarrath means ‘city at the end of the world’.”  You feel your eyes widen in spite of your attempt to keep your features schooled into neutrality. “It was built into the cliffside by my people long ago, before we knew the arbitrary lines your kings drew on their maps.” You gape at him, floundering for words. The maps you know end somewhere out into the grass sea. At their edges, perhaps an orc settlement or two, but mostly… nothing.  The impossibly vast mountains and the forests that border them are all you know.

But perhaps the truths you know are not truths at all. 

“Have you seen the sea, little one?” You shake your head. 

“What does it look like?”

Steve smiles. “Blue. The water is salt to the taste, but so blue. Like… two skies.” He motions with his hands, and you hold the reins tightly as you close your eyes and try to see it. More water than you could possibly imagine, as deep and endless as the sky.

“And the city?” You ask, stifling a yawn. 

“There are great towers of red brick with fires at their hearts. And there are not so few men as you might think.” 

“Humans?”

“And more.” He nods. “Elves, Dwarves. Children of the world before.”

You begin to slump again as he speaks, but this time Steve doesn’t wake you. He reaches across your lap to grasp the reins in one large hand. He loops them around the horn of his saddle. When you do finally begin to lean over, it is against his warm shoulder. 

“You coddle her.”  Bucky’s irritated voice doesn’t wake you—the firm hold exhaustion has on you is too heavy to drag your mind back to wakefulness, and you will not remember these words when you do wake again. Steve chuckles. 

“I like her.”

—

“Storm’s too thick.” You, and the rest of the pack are crowded around Bucky as he speaks, the horses shifting anxiously in the stillness. You can see it, the band of dark, angry dust stretching across the horizon. You’ve never seen anything like it, like the Gods’ fury given terrible form. When Bucky had set out to scout, it was a pinprick–and now the cloud stretches almost as far as you can see. “We’ll be waiting days for it to pass.”

Steve grimaces, his tusks hanging over his lip as he showcases his displeasure. 

“Aye,” he agrees, turning his eyes toward the horizon, eyeing the storm. “We’ll go around.” 

“The pass?” There’s a murmur of something like discomfort that passes through the pack. Something like fear. “Gods damn it.” Bucky looks back toward the storm and curses again. “We don’t have the rations to wait it out.” He doesn’t ask—it isn’t a question. And Steve’s grim expression is all the answer you need. 

“We’ll put it to a vote. The pass—or the storm.” He turns to the pack. “Those who want to brave the storm, step forward.” Lightning crashes in the distance, and you swallow thickly. By the sound of it, the pass is equally formidable. You recall the stag, it’s hungry jaws and fierce eyes, and wonder what else waits for you on this road—the one you’ve chosen. 

After a moment, Steve nods stonily, his expression battle-fierce. 

“The pass it is.” 

The pack wastes no time reorienting itself, turning west to skirt around the tempest of stinging sand and thunder. Carol rides up beside you, her expression grim. 

“Do not think we have chosen the easy road, little human.” 

You don’t. “What is the pass?”

“It was a road, once. One that has returned to the sea and the things that live inside it.” Her voice is low, warning. “Men are wise to fear the zikaegina,” she gestures at the endless shifting grass. “It hides many things.” 

“Why did you abandon the road?” Carol grimaces, her expression heavy with memories, knowledge you don’t share. Her eyes are dark when they meet yours again.

“Because other things used it too.” 

to be continued

next

#cevans fic #cevans fandom #chris evans fic #chris evans fandom #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #MCU AU #orc x human #orc x reader #dark fantasy #fantasy au #steve rogers smut #mcu au #mcu fanfiction #boxofbones drabbles #bones drabbles #boxofbones fic #Brave fic

[stuckysbike]

The Queen Who Married Two Kings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve (pre-established Stucky)

Arranged Marriage AU, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU

Rating/Warnings: Over 18's only, there will be dark themes and explicit sexual situations. Reader is Stark born, and they're shitty to her.

I’ve tried not to describe reader at all so you can be whomever you want.

Summary: Betrothed to two Kings, you travel with them to their home where you learn more than you ever thought you would. But how are you to cope with two husbands who want to start a family and secure their place in the world?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

#arranged marriage #fantasy #royalty #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rodgers x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #steve rogers smut #reader is a princess #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #tqwmtk

[anika-ann]

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all? 

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places. 

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.  

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.  

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him;  your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.  

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”  

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #medieval au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #lemons #pomiluj me #anika ann

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [7 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pack regroups after the deadly assault in the pass.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: thank you all forever and ever for bearing with me as i struggle through writer’s block! i’m afraid you all won’t be happy with the results of this chapter, but i hope you have enough faith in me to stick it out and see what happens. as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome!

When Steve attempts to pull the reins from your trembling hands you hold on tightly, fighting him. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat. Easy.”

The torchlight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. 

They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. softness. Steve repeats it as he looses them from your grip, peeling each of your fingers back gently, until you are forced to release the bloody leather from your trembling hands. The pass is far behind, now, lost somewhere in the mist, but you fear it still, your wide, terrified eyes searching the gloom. For the sun, for more nameless horrors—

In the dark angry sky, you find neither. 

Perhaps it is morning, perhaps not—there is no sun by which to tell, no light peeking from behind the furious, roiling clouds.

Steve dismounts, landing beside the horse with a wet thud. You join him and grimace as you sink into the muck up to your calves. The ground is slick, thick with mud that sucks at your boots. The grass sea is pock marked with patches of lightning-scorched earth, patterning what little you can see in the gloomy twilight—some are bigger around than your father’s house. Above, thunder rumbles, and you watch massive bolts of lightning twist across the sky in a burning arc, lighting ablaze the distant hills where it strikes. 

Would this path have been any better? You eye the storm’s path of destruction across the sea. No, you decide, watching again as lightning cuts through the dark sky. Where there is death, there will always be death.

Steve produces a torch from his gore-stained saddlebags. He lights it, holding it aloft. The firelight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. 

“To me!” Steve bellows, the depth of his voice trembling in your chest. “To me!” Slowly, the pack begins to reform. Out of the darkness they come, circling the flame like lost moths. You are overcome with relief to see Carol among them. Beneath her, her steed trembles, the gash along its flank bleeding sluggishly.

So few. You cannot help but take stock of those who gather, dismounting their horses to stand before Steve. So few. The pack had been intimidatingly large before. Perhaps fifty, sixty riders strong—the ones who remain number less than forty. Steve knows it too, you can see it in the grim set of his jaw.

“Where is Bucky?” A murmur passes through the pack, but no one answers. For the first time, in Steve’s bright blue eyes, you see fear. You search for Bucky’s face amongst the survivors, your chest tightening as the realization dawns cold and clear—

You do not see him. After a long while, someone finally speaks. 

“He fell.” Carol steps forward, her head low. You watch Steve’s entire body go taut. He shakes his head, his brows knitting together in angry disbelief. 

“No.” 

 “I saw him.” She looks up, and her eyes are bright and wet. “He fell.” The wind whistles through the grass in the silence. “He fell.”

For a moment, Steve’s free hand rests upon the hilt of his sword, squeezing the pommel as if beset by foes a second time, but he releases it, clenching his fist. When he does speak, his voice is cold, devoid of anything but authority. 

“Then we will light his way to our ancestors.” The light of the torch does not seem to reach his eyes, which are shrouded, and dark. “We will light the way for all of them.” 

The fire is weak, at first, sputtering dangerously as you all feed it bundles of wet kindling. It catches, eventually, the light rain fizzling out as it meets the flames. Steve’s face is stone, dark and unchanging as he watches the flames grow tall. 

You are no stranger to mourning, to grief. Those who remain surround the fire, and their sorrow is yours too. The pass had claimed many who were kind to you, who had accepted you—

Gone. 

A young female Orc approaches the fire. Her face is bandaged roughly, and the edges of the long wound peek out on either side of the dressing. In one hand she holds a shield. Her hands are steady, but her voice trembles as she speaks. 

“Arun.” She tosses the shield into the fire. “May—” Tears choke her for a moment, and she swallows roughly. “May you find your way.” Others approach the flames, some weeping, others stoic and distant, speaking the names of those they have lost into the fire. 

“Jonai.”

“Huth.” 

“Karali.”

So many, many names. 

“May you find your way.” 

You do not know the Orc traditions for mourning, but you know your own. You have lifted your voice in song for your mother’s memory more times than you can count, praying that the crows will carry the notes high into the heavens, to her ear so that she might know that you have not forgotten her. You have no name to add to the fire, but this—this you can do. So too will you mourn for the pack, for the ones who have fallen. 

The words are slow to come at first, reluctant to leave your lips. It is not long, however, before they remember the familiar shape of these melodies; before they remember how to name your grief. So you do—you name it there, before the fire. You feed it your grief, like—and unlike—the rest of the pack. They gather behind you as you sing, bowing their heads. The song catches in your throat, the words faltering on your tongue at the sight of them.

“Finish it.” You turn back, and there is Steve, stood before the fire. He is close enough to touch it, a torn quiver held tightly in one hand. “Finish it and guide them home.” He tosses in the scrap of leather as you finish, his voice consumed almost entirely by the sound of crackling flames, and the last echoing notes of your own parting gift—

“Bucky.”

to be continued…

next

#cevans #cevans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fic #fantasy au #dark fantasy #boxofbonesfic #brave fic

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

「 fantasy au masterlist 」

here is a list of all of the stories I’ve written that are in a fantasy au.

return to the main masterlist

fused with the foe (king!steve rogers, series, original fantasy world)

the wistful wyvern (knight!bucky barnes, series, original fantasy world)

soot and sparks (blacksmith!peter parker, series, original fantasy world)

witch!reader x eddie munson (au)

angel!steve harrington & devil!eddie munson (au)

tiny (miguel o'hara x fairy!reader, blurb)

maroon (vampire!remus lupin, blurb)

my little flower (warrior!din djarin, blurb)

can’t fight the moonlight (werewolf!bucky barnes)

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

#lea’s writing #masterlist #housekeeping #fantasy au #au masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #remus lupin x reader #steve rogers x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #din djarin x reader

[ethereal--muse]

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭...𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘦...

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬: Marvel AU x Outerbanks AU

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: tony stark x daughter!reader; steve rogers x reader; DARK! brocj rumlow x reader; dark-ish! rafe cameron x reader; ward cameron x brock rumlow (platonic); bucky barnes x reader (platonic; maybe romantic later)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon; sexual violence, physical violence; mental abuse; verbal abuse; age gap (reader is turning 20 in future chapters while Rumlow is in his early-fifties); pre-civil war; blood; violence; choking; talks of murder; politics i know nothing about lol. 𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗗𝗡𝗜

𝐚/𝐧: reblogs, comments and asks are always welcomed. 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴. pls send me more requests <3

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐈𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐕}

#brock rumlow imagine #dark! steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #series #coming soon #fanfic #dark fantasy #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #ward cameron #obx fic #marvel fanfiction