#capta

(vía Imán ''Marciano hipnotizador enviando ondas cerebrales con la palabra CAPTA' de Marcia-Motivos)

Con el motivo de que ya se sabe que andan por ahí, aquí les dejo mi útlima creación. Capta mi mensaje, capta, estate percibiendo que algo va a llegar a tí.

Summary: You've heard the tales, but you don't know her story — and while legends paint every corner of this enchanted land, his is but a shadow flitting past unseen.

Rating: M (future violence)

AO3 - FF

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Chapter Three: Dread

Emma had always known more than they wished, heard more than they believed, tucked behind the heavy swathes of tapestry that lined the corridors of her home. Whispered voices would swell to a crescendo behind closed doors, the sharp panic of her father's pleas piercing through the quiet, regal hum of her mother's assurances.

It was the promise of the Evil Queen that haunted the walls of their home – she would come for them, and she would ruin everything they held dear – those words echoed Emma's footsteps as she grew.

She didn't understand all the words her father wielded like a blade during those overheard arguments, but even as a child she knew he questioned the wisdom in allowing the Evil Queen to live. But her mother spoke often and frequently of hope, as if it were a tangible thing that could be seized and never lost.

If they only had hope, then surely they would prevail over darkness.

Emma could feel the darkness – it lingered beyond the castle's walls, slipping tendrils into the rose garden as the sun fell. It was the creak of movement where there should be none, the echo of her voice at the far end of the Great Hall, crouched and biding it's time in the lengthening shadows of the thrones.

Emma knew the horror of waiting for it to descend; it was the cold shiver that never quite rose to her skin.

She lived beneath the pall of its wings, though her parents saw only the sun and light that glanced from her golden curls – a promise of hope that blinded them to the shrouded darkness haunting her every step.

It followed her as she shirked her studies, dispelled temporarily as she found amusement within the chamber her father preferred when practicing his swordsmanship within the castle proper – dragging a heavy practice blade around the room as she heaved it to and fro with both hands, exclaiming victory over a foe that was less imaginary than those of most children.

It hung over her shoulders like a frigid cloak, whispering in her ear – I'll come for you, I'll destroy everything you hold dear – as she flitted from the bath to the solarium, her fingers scented with rosewater that bled into the embroidery of her mother's maids as she fingered their careful stitches.

It loped like a panting beast at her heel as she padded along the rugs that ran from her parents' chambers toward the Great Hall, flowers and vines woven of dyed wool thick and soft beneath her feet, the tiny woodland animals stitched into their depths whispering – run, child, run.

Emma had never set eyes on the Evil Queen, but she knew the promise of her words, and she felt the pressing of her will against the walls of the palace itself, seeping slowly through every crack.

The sun danced its arc over the towers and spires of her home, alighting on leaded windows and stone balustrades just as did the kitchen yard with its fowl scratching. Emma sat tucked behind her father's throne, listening in that half-aware way that children have to the troubles of the audience that came to call – her thoughts distracted by the rumpled piece of embroidery sitting on her lap. Its threads were lumped and misshapen, crooked and wandering. She pushed the needle stubbornly through the thick fabric, lip caught between her teeth as the rounded end bit into the pad of her thumb.

And then it leapt forward – a yelp tearing from her mouth as it pierced through unexpectedly and embedded itself into the palm of her left hand. She tossed the piece of work aside with a growl and stood, gasping as a pair of strong hands lifted her from her hiding place. Her frustration was replaced with a smile as her father swooped her into his arms and returned to his seat on the throne, the soft folds of her gown draped over his lap and her discarded needlework held in his free hand.

“Now, what's happened, my darling Emma?” he murmured, his eyes locked on her hand as he raised his own palm toward the steward, indicating the next petitioner would have to wait until he'd finished with his daughter. “Let me see.”

Emma lifted her left hand to show him the red bead welling from just below her thumb, the motion causing it to trickle wildly down her skin and fall, staining the cream colored silk of her father's doublet.

“I stabbed myself,” Emma muttered, frowning at the tiny wound left behind by the pointy end of the needle.

“All of those hours spent dancing with a sword, and it's the finer arts that give you trouble, little one; what shall we do with you?”

“I've never liked embroidery anyways,” Emma sighed, green eyes slipping sideways to where her mother sat, watching the interaction with a soft smile, “but mother says I must learn.”

“Perhaps a lesson in patience is needed then,” her father hummed, eyeing the mad path of her embroidery, “your needlework will get no better if you've only one hand.”

“A princess needs to learn many things,” Snow agreed, reaching across and pressing a folded, white kerchief to her daughter's hand, “not just how to wield a sword and thieve pastries from the kitchen at night, but...perhaps that's enough embroidery for one evening. You'll join your father and I to see to the tenants.”

“Your mother is right. One day these will be your people, Emma, and you must learn how to care for them as well as to rule over them – a responsibility that will need more care than the path a needle takes.”  

As Emma settled on her father's lap, her countenance turning serious as she faced the court, Snow motioned for the steward to continue. He quickly complied, summoning the next petitioner forward. Emma listened as the man spoke of the tidings of his village – a wild beast that raided their traps and eviscerated their livestock, the men who disappeared while tracking it often found days later, in pieces. She listened as her mother eased the farmer's worries and her father promised a contingent of knights would be sent to hunt and slay the beast.

All the while she wondered, what could hunt and slay the darkness that haunted her own family?

Emma's little fist tightened around the white kerchief her mother had given her to staunch her wound, and when she crawled between the silk of her sheets that evening, it was still held safe within her grasp.

Her dreams pulled her far from the darkness creeping up and over the walls of the castle, far from the helpless townsfolk who perished between the teeth of some rabid beast.

While she slept, she walked on white sands that warmed her feet, the hot sun falling from her back as she took shelter beneath the cool awning of the jungle – her magic trilling beneath her skin as she raced from tree to tree, following the laughter of all the others who waited in the depths of a place far from time and all of the sadness it would bring.

And when she woke, it was with the ghost of shadowed fingertips leaving her hand – the snow white kerchief stained with her blood nowhere to be found.

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Summary: Y/N is an avenger, and she can’t stand Steve Rogers. A powerful mage, able to conjure green deadly mists to use as she wishes. The public is horrified by her, so her private life is hidden by the name they gave her: The Green Malice.

Follow her as she tries to fulfill her destiny; to find both her place in the world and maybe love on the way there.

Characters: Y/N  Y/LN / Green Malice. Steve Rogers. The Avengers. Warnings: Swear words, voilence, killing - though not very graphic. Some soft smut at the end:D Words: 3.6k A/N: gifs and images are not mine, credit to owners!!

Listened to:  walk through the fire - zayde wolf breath of life - florence + the machine pray - jry, ruthanne 

Parts: MASTERLIST  |  last -  epilogue

“Shit,” Sam cussed. “Here, take this,” he urged, holding out a com before moving in to help them. You didn’t know where to even begin as you pushed the small device into your ear.

“Green thumbs,” you heard Tony’s voice. Your head snapped in his direction, finding him hovering above the ground right by you, his mask pulling back to reveal his face. “I need you to take out the ones inside the house, can you do that for me?”

You nodded your head.

“Get me up to the side of the window on the second floor,” You said. His suit covered his face again as he grabbed you by the shoulders and flew you up. You grabbed a hold of the windowsill and peaked inside. It looked empty, but you couldn’t be sure. There was so much gunfire and fighting going on around the house, you couldn’t hear anything in the house. As you climbed inside, a soaring pain shot up your leg. You cried out in pain as you tumbled to the floor inside the cabin, your body smacking against the floorboards. What the hell?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cussed silently as you crawled over towards your room. You knew you couldn’t use your mist on them, they were wearing masks, but there were other ways to inject your venom. The pain subdued somewhat, and your body was vibrating with adrenaline. You heard rapid footsteps up the stairs, and your eyes widened. You held your hands out, ready to fire poisonous arrows. As soon as the unfamiliar head popped into your vision, you threw your hands towards him, two sharp arrows, dripping with acid.

One hit him right in the throat, and the other in his thigh. The man tried to scream, to reach for whatever had pierced his skin, but there was nothing for him to grab. The smoke arrows melted into acid as soon as it hit its target. He fell to the floor.

You could hear more incoming, and you grunted in pain through gritted teeth as you pushed yourself off the floor, preparing to face off against more soldiers. You couldn’t help wondering how many of these people Alexander had brought. You knew HYDRA never lacked numbers in soldiers, but now, you felt almost bad for all of them. Most of them were probably like you had been; brainwashed.

You stood, leaning on one leg, as two soldiers moved into the room, guns in hand. Your hands shot out again, arrows shooting out of your palms. They hit one of the men in his bulletproof vest, and though it seeped through the fabric, he managed to rip it off his body before it hit his flesh. While he was doing that, the other soldier, though hit in the arm, managed to shoot you in the shoulder before you had a chance to fire again. White, hot pain blinded your vision, and you automatically released a thick fog of green smoke, camouflaging yourself. You clenched your jaw, your eyes squeezing shut at the pain searing through your body. It hurt so bad, you felt nauseous.

You could hear the commotions going on outside and the entring of more soldiers in the room. You suppressed your cries of pain as you gathered all your strength, closing your eyes tightly. You held your arms against your chest, a warm and bubbling sensation rumbling inside of you, tears welling in your eyes. As you threw your arms out to your sides, your head falling back, releasing the pressure and an ear-piercing cry of pain. Dusin of nibs, looking like small darts of green poison, shot out of your body in every direction.

The sweet sound of the soldier’s pain was a victory. You stumbled backwards, the mist lifting, revealing the dead soldiers in your room. Four of them.

“Guys?” You whispered, your vision blurred, your hand to your ear, as you leaned against the bed. There wasn’t much pain at that exact moment, but you felt cold. Everything was cold, and the smoke seeping out of your body, your protective system wrapped itself around you as if to hug you. It may have been the pain, and the loss of blood, but you knew this force inside you was a friend. You had always had this feeling of a presence within it. As if it was another part of you, that helped you when you needed it. When you couldn’t help yourself. Like this moment, when you thought you might be dying.

The smoke wasn’t your own doing. It flowed out of you on its own, and it was whispering to you. Not in any language, not with a voice, but you understood it. It was letting you know you weren’t alone.

You weren’t alone.

“Y/N!” Steve’s worried voice responded to your voice right away.

“I realized… I’ve been shot,” you said, your voice weak as you stared down at you bleeding leg. “Twice.”

“Where are you?” His voice was a breath. He was fighting, you could hear it from outside the balcony.

“Don’t worry,” you muttered, your eyes closing. You were so tired. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and your eyes sprung open. You couldn’t bare much more. There was bright green blood seeping from your wounds, dripping onto the floorboards with a hiss for each drop. The house would need serious remodeling after your outburst.

Pushing yourself off the floor, adrenaline helping you, you stumbled backwards out onto the balcony, but your vision was blurred, and your whole body was aching in agony. You held onto the low railing of the balcony, and the flock of soldiers entering your bedroom had you surprised. You took a step back, but there was no more room to step and your body tumbled over the railing.

Your body crashed against the ground, and the ground beneath you shook vigorously at the impact, your powers shooting out of your body as your back smashed into the ground. Your body curled in convulsion; the air knocked out of your lungs. All you could feel was pain. Pain everywhere.

There were voices around you. You could hear both the evil ones who wanted you to hurt and your friends.

Your friends.

They were your friends. They had come to help you, even if you had been awful. They had come to help you.

You had friends with you.

You had Steve.

Your Steve.

You couldn’t lose them.

The whisper was there again. The whispering magic in your veins. The force in your muscles. It was telling you to let go. Open your mind, open your soul; let it in. Let me in, it said. No, it screamed. Let me in, let me in, let me in!

Your eyes flew open, and the world was green. You blinked; the pain was like a soft throb in the far back of your mind. An empty part of your being felt like it had been filled. You felt strong. Powerful. New. As you moved to pushed yourself off of the ground once more, your eyes looked down on your body. Your skin was glowing green, a bright sheen swimming under your skin. You were engulfed by the soft green glow. You held your arms out in front of yourself, looking at your hands. You gently wiggled the fingers and noticed just how strong they felt.

Around you was a crater. Your fall had broken the ground. Your eyes glanced at your surroundings. The war had stopped, both sides of the fight having frozen in shock and anticipation. Your eyes met Steve’s confused and worried stare, his fist mid-air, his other hand grabbing the vest of a HYDRA soldier.

You slowly stood from the hole in the ground, your eyes never leaving Steve’s. You had never felt so confident in your life. You felt as if all the answers were yours.

A small smile curled onto your lips as you tuned your head to look at Alexander. The fear in his eyes told you he knew what was happening to you, his grip on James’ collar tightening. You stepped out of the crater and stood facing him and most of his soldiers.

He was frozen as you approached him. Your smile turned to a smirk as you stood in front of him. You held your hand out towards him, and he shied back, letting go of James.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Alexander?” You hissed, well aware of how your eyes were glowing green along with the rest of your body. You could feel the venom on your skin, a warm tingling feeling. You reached out towards him and he stumbled back.

“It’s… It’s impossible,” he whispered.

“What is?” You asked.

“You… you aren’t supposed to be able to upgrade yourself,” he said, his eyes filled with terror and confusion.

“It doesn’t matter what I’m supposed to do or not, Alexander,” you hissed, your glare hardening. “It’s about what I want.”

He scoffed. “And what the fuck is it you want?”

“I want the people I care about to be safe. Far away from you.”

“Who are you trying to fool, huh?” He yelled, both of fear and frustration. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Y/N.”

“I’m not that Y/N anymore,” you whispered, your hand igniting, the smoke lapping at your skin like angry, green flames.

“Kill her,” Alexander screamed, his own hands flying for his weapon. James knocked him straight in the throat, catching him off guard. The Winter Soldier pinned him to the ground, Natasha helping him fight off the armed soldiers around.

You gathered your strength and ran as fast as you could towards Alexander, slamming your palms onto his thighs. You ordered James to cut his skin, your venom needed to enter his system. You could feel the strength of this new poison in your veins, it was able to at least sedate him. It could kill him, but you wanted them to take him in alive. And if you took him, his soldiers would be easy.

James managed to slice Alexander’s thigh open and while he did so; you grabbed onto the blade. James stared at you in utter shock as the knife sliced your hand as he pulled it away from Alexander’s body. You didn’t have time to look at James and tell him it was alright. You squeezed your palm together and let the venom drip into Alexanders wound.

He screeched in agony, and you sighed in relief. He could feel it. He would pass out. He would be taken captive.

His eyes bore into yours and memories of him holding you behind his back, protecting you against older trainees spun through your mind. His encouraging words when you were on your lowest. You felt bad for him. You wished it hadn’t been like this. But that Alexander was too far gone, and he was not coming back.

As he slowly passed out, the rest of the soldiers followed quickly. It was, after all, only Alexander that was an actual issue because you thought you couldn’t affect him. The other soldiers were just a pest following him around.

You stood from the ground and slowly turned towards Steve who was holding a guy down.

“Steve!” You heard Tony call out and watched as the man you so desperately wanted to hold on to looked up at the man in iron.

“You two,” Tony said, pointing his finger right at me, “Need to get out of here, pronto.”

Steve didn’t answer, he just looked to you with his brows furrowed. He moved towards the house, and you somehow got the feeling he was a bit vary of you as you moved into the house after him. There were bodies everywhere. Soldiers. Only HYDRA, luckily.

You bit your lip as you watched him pack your things in your backpack for you. You stood at the doorway to your room, just watching his body. He was tense. And he wouldn’t look at you.

Glancing down at your bare arms, you saw you had stopped glowing, but your skin seemed to have permanently turned a light sheen of green. You didn’t mind it too much, but you had a feeling someone didn’t like it. Judging by the way he avoided you. You felt disgusting all over again. Though you had no intention of pushing anything on him, you’d let him take as much distance from you as he needed. Even if it would hurt you.

The feeling broke your heart, and you stared at the floor sadly. Your body went cold, all the blood rushing out of your head. The pain in your wounds suddenly demanded your attention. The adrenaline must have passed. You squeezed your eyes shut, your teeth clenching. You gripped the doorway as you staggered forwards, your vision blurring.

You felt Steve’s arms around you, but you couldn’t see clearly. Everything was hazy and distorted and moving too slowly.

 --

 You gasped, sitting up, your wide eyes flickering around yourself. You could feel your body heat up, ready to protect yourself. Your mind span as you stared at the bed you were in. There was a slight ache in your shoulder, and for a while, you were completely blank. You couldn’t remember where you were, how you’d gotten to where you were, or what had happened.

There was a soft knock on the door to the room, and your eyes snapped towards it. You threw the covers off your body and slid off the bed, down to the floor. You pressed your back against the mattress and closed your eyes.

Could it be HYDRA? Could they have gotten you? Taken you somewhere? Your eyes glanced up to the window in front of you. The sky was turning dark, the orange and pink shades of the sunset about to disappear. You frowned. HYDRA wouldn’t give you a view.

The door creaked open as someone entered and you closed your eyes again, curling your legs to your chest, your arms curling around your knees.

Rough yet gentle hands took hold of the shoulder that didn’t hurt, and you didn’t protest. You didn’t really see a point. You were tired and in pain, and you were confused. Tears welled in your eyes. Why couldn’t you remember where you were? A soft sob left your throat. You felt so vulnerable, so sad. Why were you so sad?

“I’ve got you,” a soft voice whispered, as strong arms hoisted you up against a chest. You’d know that voice anywhere. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting Steve’s gentle blues. The gaze was firm and intense, letting you know he really did have you.

“Steve,” you breathed, your voice hoarse.

He gave a soft hum as he sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. He held you close, his hands gripping at your body. As if afraid you’d disappear. As he hugged you, you rested your chin on his head, fingers running through his hair.

You felt strange. Like you didn’t know yourself. Though you felt calmer. There was no rage. Where had it gone? It was all you knew.

The memories of the fight and the pain and the new powers inside you flooded back into your mind, and you had to close your eyes. You subconsciously tightened your hold on him, and he pulled you impossibly close.

With tear stained eyes you looked down to his, your sad gaze meeting his intense one. You cupped his cheek, your fingers disgustingly green against his skin. You could tell your skin wasn’t all too green on its own, but next to regular human skin… you looked away. A lonely tear rolled down your cheek.

You remembered his avoidant behavior before you… before you’d passed out. That was what had happened. You’d passed out. And he had caught you, even if he hadn’t wanted to look at you. You pulled your hands to your chest, feeling extremely self-conscious. Your hair fell from behind your ear, covering half your face in messy waves. You wanted to hide.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and demanding as he took a hold of one of my wrists, the other hand holding my body in place. His hold was firm, yet gentle.

“You don’t hide from me,” he whispered hoarsely. Your gaze flickered up towards his.

“I’m disgusting,” you muttered, your heart breaking at your own words.

Steve didn’t answer. He took a hold of the thin fabric of the big t-shirt you had on. It was his, you could smell it. Or maybe it was just him sitting in front of you, taking over all your senses. You watched as he pushed it up your thighs and over your butt.

A surprised yelp left your lips as his hands moved to grab the sides of your waist, hoisting you up in his lap. You found yourself face to face with him, your knees on the hard concrete on either side of his lap. Your glare clashed with his, and you became painfully aware of how little clothes you were wearing. Your dress was almost slipping over your ass. You felt drunk and fearless as you glared at him.

His eyes bore into yours, and you could tell he was trying hard not to say what he really wanted to. Forever the gentleman.

No, you wouldn’t have that. He wasn’t a gentleman, that was all a front. A front you despised and wanted him to throw away.    

You closed your eyes at the memory. It felt like years ago; it felt like it came from someone else. You didn’t despise a thing about him. He was kind. He was generous. He was so stupidly breathtaking. He had the power to put you down all along, yet he never did, because he wanted you to find your own path.

Your eyes slid open, looking at him. His eyes asked for permission and you gave him a slow nod of your head. He inched the shirt up, revealing more green skin. The cool air had your skin flaring with goosebumps. He pulled the shirt over your head, and you found yourself in nothing but your bottom underwear.

And this was where you knew Steve was different.

His eyes weren’t filled with pure sexual desire when he looked at your bare chest, or the curves of your waist and hips. It was admiration. It was… It looked like love.

Tears welled in your eyes. He didn’t need to say anything. The words spoke themselves between your eyes, between the gentle touches he left on your skin.

You were the one with the poisonous gift, yet his touch was the one that lit your skin on fire. Every trail of his fingers left a feeling so tender yet they felt carved into your body.

“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is say so,” he told you, his hand brushing against your shoulders. The move sent shivers down your back. You looked up at him, and suddenly he looked… he looked gorgeous.

His eyes were so blue, you hadn’t noticed before. They were so worried, and they had seen so much. The way his broad shoulders made his jacket tighter, his skin was perfect. How had you not seen this before? How had you not seen the beauty he was?

 Your lips pressed to his, fire against fire, your eyes half open, looking at his gorgeous face. His palms took a hold of your butt, pulling your hips into his. You felt dizzy and drunk, and you didn’t want it any other way. The electricity ran through your body, your head rolled back. His hungry lips found your throat, rough hands gliding over your breasts as if they were the most delicate things. Your body arching into his chest. You felt alive, and your body vibrated with joy.

To think you kept yourself from this. Kept yourself from feeling. From enjoying. From being loved. From being cared for.

Steve had seen you. The whole time, he had not only seen fire. He had seen the scared girl behind it. The scared, sad and confused soul trapped in a weapon she never asked to recieve.

 He placed you down on your bed and his body hovered over you, his lips brushing yours. He leaned back to look at you, and you slowly blinked your eyes open. You knew he had fallen in love with you.

 His hands took gentle holds on your body, lifting you as if you were nothing, placing you down on the soft mattress. He followed suit, lips trailing hot kisses over you chest, body gently pressing down on yours, limbs and lips tangled. Tongues tasting whatever they could. Your mind was dazed and all you could feel was him. All you wanted to feel was him. He was yours. You knew it.

And two became one.

He made you feel beautiful. He made you feel worthy. The pleasure of him inside you was sending your mind into spiral of stars, and all you could think off was his smile. The one where he thought you weren’t looking at him. Where he smiled, just watching you read a book, or try to figure out what a music box was.

 Whatever happened, it was you both against the world. Together.

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