#huntersteve

Unforgettable It’s been a year and Steve reaches out with news. There shouldn’t be enough of your soul left to care, but the thought of him and a deep dive into the past, proves otherwise. Sequel to Angel on Fire.

Happier  Steve returns the stones and instead of coming back to 2023, ends up coming back to 2028. A lot can change in five years.

Far Away Tony didn’t want you running this assignment for Fury, but you never listen. It was just a black market weapons auction, simple enough, until you get captured and find yourself as one of the weapons up for auction.

Teeth Post IW Snap, all you feel is angry all the time, except around him.

7 Rings As Tony’s daughter, you’re able to get almost anything you want.

Happy Birthday Tony You get Tony back - the only way you know how.

Shadows Six steamy sentence challenge 

Valentine Steve’s Valentine’s dinner doesn’t go according to plan.

Coin-Operated Boy There’s a reason you don’t tell Steve about the project you’re working on for Tony.

Stay Steve was taken by you from the moment he saw you, without ever knowing who you were.

Strange Love Steve goes looking for a friend, in the one place he shouldn’t. (Prologue)  (Part 1)  (Part 2)  (Part 3)  (Epilogue)

Wicked Game Steve Rogers is a fugitive and you haven’t seen him in a year. You learn the hard way you can’t always trust people. Sequel to Strange Love  (Part 1)  (Part 2)  (Part 3)

Eyes Closed Steve’s just trying to keep a promise he made to his best friend. (Part 1) (Part 2)  (Part 3)  (Part 4)

Seven Devils What happens when two psychos stick you in a cell with the one person who hasn’t talked to you in six months with the intent to kill you both. (Monster of the Week)

I Put a Spell on You You were supposed to choose him, but what happens when it starts to look like you won’t? (Monster of the Week)

Heads Will Roll A shapeshifter comes through, turning the compound upside down, revealing one too many secrets. (Monster of the Week)

Hunter Steve Series

Kill of The Night   Steve can’t quite figure out the new recruit, but he knows there’s something different about you. 

Devil’s Playground Sequel to Kill of the Night, and how well Steve adapts to hunting. 

Apocalyptic Steve has a run in with a demon. There’s just one problem, you have a history with said demon. 

Monster Bucky and Sam show up unexpectedly to check on the two of you, but you’re on a case. How are you and Steve supposed to keep hunting a secret from them, if they get stuck in the middle of it? 

Sacrifice  A vampire hunt goes south when you become one of the targets for another hunter.

Living Proof The case you and Steve are on brings about your worst nightmare. 

Colors  A hunter turned vampire makes for the deadliest hunter around. What happens when an old foe decides to make their own breed of assassins?

Bag of Bones Everyone needs help sometimes, because not all battles are meant to be won.

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

She Keeps Me Up You need a little help, but as Tony’s half-sister, you’re also off limits.

Broken Ones Loss. Loneliness. Bucky understands what you’re going through, even if he doesn’t say it.

Liar You’ve kept your promise to keep your distance from James Barnes for as long as you can, but you’ve always been a curious girl. That often leads you into trouble and makes a liar out of you.

Hurricane Bucky does something crazy for his best friend Steve, doesn’t he? After all, Barnes only tolerates you because of Rogers, right? 

Living Dead Girl He’s a ghost story, isn’t he? (The Raven Series)

She Loves Control Turns out you know Steve, a little too well. (The Raven Series)

Heart of Novocaine You don’t need saving. (The Raven Series)

Familiar Taste of Poison Thanos is gone and everyone is alive, including Bucky Barnes. The world is perfect - isn't it? (Monster of the Week)

Hypnotic Bucky is sent to retrieve an artifact, getting more than he bargained for. (Hunter Bucky Series)

Loki x Reader 

One More Habit  Loki is fascinated by you, because he knows you’re hiding a secret from the rest of the team and he’s determined to figure you out.

Joke’s On You You’ve been keeping a secret from your friends. Can be a sequel to Valentine.

Power Over Me (Part 1)  Loki has the Tesseract and can literally go anywhere he wants, so why does he keep getting drawn back to the broken little witch Steve Rogers abandoned?

Power Over Me (Part 2)  It’s been three months since you started feeling this ache inside - like something’s missing - it happens at least once everyday. You’re not sure what’s causing it or why the stranger you keep seeing causes it instantaneously.

Tony Stark x Reader 

Closer Tony likes to make things his.

Animals You were Steve's once, before the accords divided and broke everyone. Tony didn’t leave though.

Shameless Sequel to Animals. Steve wants a second chance at what he broke.

A Little Wicked Tony Stark is your weakness and you hate yourself for it. After all, you have a reputation to uphold. (Monster of the Week)

Peter Parker x Reader 

Rock & Roll You admired Tony Stark more than anyone, so it was only natural you took some time off after the battle, but what happens when you return a couple years later to find Rhodey's rebuilt the compound and someone strange is working in Tony's lab. (Part 1)  (Part 2)  (Part 3)

Ransom Drysdale x Reader 

My Oh My Series

My Oh My Hugh Ransom Drysdale might not be who everyone thinks he is.

Trouble  Maybe the narcissistic playboy is smarter than most people give him credit for. Sequel to My Oh My

In the Dark  You only thought Ransom was an asshole, wait until you meet his family. Sequel to Trouble

Stone Cold  Ransom has one last interview left for his book. Sequel to In the Dark

Freaking Me Out Ransom has his book launch and it’s eventful to say the least. Sequel to Stone Cold 

The Reckoning  The aftermath of Freaking Me Out

The Wolf Series

The Wolf  A blast from Ransom’s past blows into town, but there’s more to you than meets the eye.

Devil’s Worst Nightmare Ransom’s in over his head, but can you pull him out? Or will he just end up dragging you down with him? Sequel to The Wolf

Dean Winchester x Reader

Sex & Stardust  He was never your intention, but it’s just one night - right?

***

The waitress slides a plate with a large burger and fries in front of you, then a similar one in front of Steve with a warm smile before turning to walk away. The man across from you in the booth lays the tablet he was scrolling down on the table.

“Where to next?” you question him as you grab the bottle of ketchup, pouring some next to your fries.

“Yea Cap,” a familiar voice says, as a man slides into the booth next to you. “Where to next?”

Sam Wilson smirks at Steve before glancing to you, his arm stretching across the back of the booth. Bucky sits down next to his friend taking in his new appearance, “Hi pal.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve questions, surprise evident on his features.

“Just checking in on our friends,” Wilson responds, pulling a fry from your plate and taking a bite of it. “We are still friends, right?”

“Yea,” you state. “Of course.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Barnes questions, his tone serious.

Your heart drops as you glance at Steve, did they know?

The only person who knew about you was Tony and he had promised to keep it a secret.

No one knew about hunting.

“Tell you – what?” Steve challenges the question, not faltering.

“About the two of you,” Sam responds, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t look at him, instead you busy yourself with grabbing a french fry. “According to the last check in. You’re supposed to be in Phoenix.”

“And you’re in Denver,” Bucky stares at Steve, waiting for a response.

You laugh nervously, “I thought I was in Denver.”

Steve looks across at you with a smile, “Well, I thought you were in Santa Fe.” He glances between Barnes and Wilson. “Busted.”

“So, this is a thing?” Wilson points his index finger between the two of you.

“No,” the response is simultaneous.

Sam looks across to Bucky, one eyebrow raised suspiciously, “Uh, huh.”

The TV in the corner captures your attention and you reach across to tap a finger against Steve’s hand, nodding your head toward the screen. Across the bottom of the news broadcast the scrolling headline reads.

Just in: Another man found dead tonight.

“Can you turn that up please?” you question the waitress, and she reaches for the remote.

“Police say the cause of death is similar to the other two murders. This happened around seven-thirty tonight near the Lawson repair shop. If anyone has any information that could help, police are asking for you to call the tip line listed at the bottom of the screen,” the blonde reporter on the screen states.

You glance at Steve in concern, knowing that the two of you were burning Abigail’s remains two hours before he was killed. Burning her remains hadn’t released her. Something was still holding her spirit here. Bucky notices the cryptic glances you and Steve share in response to the news report.

“We should go,” Steve says motioning for the waitress.

Once the bill is paid and the uneaten food is in Styrofoam boxes, the four of you make your way out of the diner.

Sam accidently bumps into a man clad in leather on his way out, apologizing instantly, “Sorry man.” The dark-haired guy only glares at him in annoyance and you notice The Annihilator insignia on the back of his vest. There are a few men in the diner wearing the same vest, their mood dark and depressed, having lost one of their own.

“Where are we going?” Bucky questions, once outside. “Steve, what’s going on?”

“Back to the motel,” his friend replies without turning around.

“Uh,” Sam’s voice is almost timid. “Guys.”

The three of you turn around and see Wilson with a knife to his throat, the woman holding it almost transparent. Her neck is slit open and you can see the initials carved in her chest, and the hatred on her face is unlike anything you’ve seen before with a spirit.

“Abigail,” you call to her. “Don’t. He didn’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies hoarsely. “Let me finish what I started.”

You shake your head in confusion, “But – you’re killing the wrong people.”

“No,” she responds, moving through Sam’s body towards you. “I’m not.”

“What the fuck?” Sam says quietly to himself, eyes wide as he feels his chest, having just saw the apparition come out of him.

Abigail places her hand against the side of your head and your eyes roll back as you collapse to the ground, before the woman dissipates into a grey mist.

“Steve,” Bucky tries to sound calm as his friend moves to pick you up from the pavement. “What the hell was that?”

“Ghost,” Sam says loudly. “What that a fucking ghost?”

Cradling you against his chest, he gives a quick nod, “Yea it was. Can we go? I’ll explain on the way.”

***

“Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital?” you hear Bucky ask quietly.

“No.”

“Fucking ghosts man,” Sam’s voice is louder and frantic. “A ghost was going to kill me, and you act like it’s just another Tuesday.”

“She wasn’t going to kill you,” Steve’s calm, as always.

“Really? Because that knife to my throat says otherwise.”

“She wanted to send a message,” Barnes comments hesitantly.

“Yea, she did,” Steve agrees.

You slowly open your eyes, head pounding as you move to sit up on the motel bed, “And I got that message.” The men look over to you as you gingerly tough the side of your head that Abigail had touched. “Loud and clear.”

“You okay,” the softness in Steve’s voice – his eyes – is more than you deserve.

You give him a nod before you look at Barnes and Wilson cautiously, “Did you give them the talk?”

“Ghosts are real,” Bucky responds.

“Yea,” Sam folds his arms across his chest. “Ghostbusters. Great. I liked it better when we were just busting you two for hooking up.”

“Next time, call first,” you smirk. “I’ll arrange less ghosts and more sex that day.” Wilson gives you an unimpressed look as Bucky stifles a laugh.

“What did Abigail show you?” Steve’s tone is serious as he changes the subject.

“Gunner Matthews,” you say. “He was a Grim Reaper. She was leaving Devin for him. They were in love. When Devin found out he sent his buddies after her, to bring her back.”

“The three men she’s killed already?” Steve questions and you nod.

“Devin killed her. He’s the final one,” you continue as a thought crosses your mind and stand, moving to the table beside Steve. “Let me see the article, the one about the retaliation.” Scrolling through the article you increase the size of the picture of Devin, and point to the chain around his neck. A small silver cross dangling at the end of it and you flip to the other screen of Abigail’s obituary. In the portrait she’s wearing the same necklace. “What do you bet he still wears her necklace?”  

“That’s what’s keeping her here,” Steve states knowingly as Wilson and Barnes watch the two of you work in unison.

“What does that mean?” Bucky questions.

“We have to get that necklace,” his friend replies. “Before she kills him.”

***

Devin Mathers sits, looking ashamed and disgusted, in a dining room chair in the middle of his living room as Steve finishes pouring a ring a salt on the wood floor around him. You hadn’t told Mathers that you knew he was responsible for Abigail’s murder, only that she was targeting those closest to her and he might be next. Bucky stokes the fire in the fireplace he’s built as Sam holds the sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt in his hands.

“Yea,” Wilson remarks. “We hunt ghosts now. This is completely normal.”

“He’s not adjusting well,” you smirk to Steve. “Should I tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“That’s up to you,” Rogers places the bag of salt on the table as he smiles.

“Sam,” you give him a serious look. “There’s something else you should know.” Wilson waits apprehensively for your next bombshell. “Santa Claus isn’t real.”

He huffs as Steve and Bucky laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m glad you all can joke while we wait for my dead fiancé, who wants to kill me, to show up,” Devin says loudly from his seat.

You turn to look at him angrily, stepping over the salt circle to rip the necklace from around his neck, “You killed her. You did this to yourself asshole.”

Your statement shocks him, and he glares at you, “She deserved it.”

“Because she was in love with someone else,” you remark. “Or because you couldn’t control her anymore?”

“Women need to know their place,” Devin states maliciously. “She belonged to me.”

You clench your jaw and Steve can see the anger boiling up as you glare at the man in front of you. The sudden appearance of Abigail’s ghostly figure surprises everyone.

“Burn it,” Steve says, his voice low and authoritative.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly as you step back out of the salt circle, dragging the heel of your boot through the barrier as you toss the necklace to Barnes. He quickly tosses the silver cross into the flames, but not before Abigail is able to sweep across and slit Devin’s throat. She turns to give you a small appreciative smile before her figure is engulfed in flames.

“I –” Sam looks at the scene in disbelief. “I though we didn’t want her to kill him?”

You flick your eyes over to him and see Steve staring at you. The understanding in his eyes is a welcomed relief as he responds, “We can’t always save everyone.”

“Now what?” Bucky questions.

Placing a smile on your face you look back over to Barnes, “We celebrate.”

“Drinks, yes, best plan I’ve heard all afternoon,” Sam agrees.

***

Steve knew as soon as he saw the vests the men in the bar are wearing that there was only one way tonight would go – messy. The Annihilators wouldn’t get word until later that another one of their members had been murdered, but it would be the last one.

The four of you enjoy a few beers and a couple games of pool for about an hour, when the trouble finally starts. You’re making your way back to the table, having placed an order at the bar, when one of the bikers steps in front of you – blocking your path.

“Excuse me,” you state coldly.

“When you get done playing with those guys,” he begins, his tone dripping in malice, “how about you come play with a real man baby.”

You snort, trying to hold back a laugh, “Does that line actually work on women?” You look up at him incredulously as you side-step him. “Because if it does –” you shake your head, stepping backwards to the pool table slowly, “then they must be real desperate. You think that vest you’re wearing makes you cool. Doesn’t change the fact you look like shit.”

The few patrons who are listening to the exchange let out a collective ooohhhhh at the comment. You turn back to the pool table to see Steve shaking his head at you, a playful glint in his eyes.

You’re trouble.

An instigator.

He likes it – too much.

You grab your pool stick and as you stare at him, he wonders how obvious it would be if the two of you disappeared for a few moments. He wants to taste the beer on your lips, feel the rush he gets when you bite into his flesh, hear that smart-ass mouth of yours moaning his name as he fucks you against the bathroom stall. His thoughts are interrupted as the man moves closer towards you.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he snarls. “Bitch.”

You slowly turn around at the remark and glare at the leather clad man. Barnes begins to move along the opposite side of the pool table, but Steve stops him, laying the end of his pool stick against his friend’s chest. Bucky glances at him and Steve gives a subtle shake of his head, indicating for Barnes to stand down.

“You need to learn your place,” the biker seethes, towering over you. His words sounding much like Devin’s.

“You going to teach me?” you tighten your grip on the pool stick in your hand. “Because I’d love to see you try.”

Sam mentally tallies up the number of guys wearing the same leather vest as the man you’re currently facing off with, before he leans closer to Steve, whispering, “You know this ends in a fight, right?” Steve shrugs his shoulders as he watches your interaction with the man closely and Sam notices the slight smile on his face. “You’re enjoying this. Is this like – foreplay? What the hell have the two of you been doing the last few months?”

The man grabs for your wrist and you side-step quicker than a normal person should, but not fast enough to raise any suspicion. You bring your knee up into his crotch forcefully and a low snarl escapes him as he doubles over in pain.

“Ah shit,” Wilson sighs, as you twirl the pool stick in your hand once before coming down with it.

The sound of the wood splintering as it breaks across the man’s back echoes through the bar, gaining the rest of the patron’s attention. “Get her, boys,” one of the men orders, as three of them begin to advance towards you.

Barnes looks back across to Steve expectantly, “Now?”

“Wait,” Steve replies calmly, watching as you reach behind you on the pool table, fingers clutching at the purple four ball.

You throw the ball at the tallest guy, it smashes into his nose, blood splattering everywhere as he drops to his knees. The next guy, not as tall, lunges for you and you back-hand him with what’s left of the pool stick, but he’s unaffected as he slams you against the pool table. He jerks you around and the third man is behind you trying to pin your arms behind your back, but you feel his face against your hair and you quickly slam your head back with a little more force than you should. The sound of your skulls cracking against each other is sickening, and the crowd watching is now urging the fight to continue.

The biker in front of you is pissed by this point and as a couple more of their men start to approach the situation, he grabs you roughly again, turning as he flings you back and across the pool table. You tumble across the felt and Barnes catches you to keep you from rolling off the table.

Flipping your hair from your face, you glance between him, Sam, and Steve, the smile on your face purely mischievous, “Hey guys.”

“Having fun?” Steve smirks, leaning against the pool table.

“Yea,” you inhale deeply, before your face lights up with playfulness. “You want in?”

Steve gives you a nod and a sly smile crosses Bucky’s face as he says, “Finally.”

“I’m gonna help kick some ass,” Sam begins matter-of-factly, waving his hand between you and Steve, “and then we’re gonna talk about whatever crazy shit this is.”

***

Back at the motel, you unwrap the bar rag from you hand, blood starts oozing from the slice along your index finger instantly and you stick your hand under the cool water pouring from the bathroom faucet. Watching as the blood mixes with the water, turning a pinkish color before running down the drain. The door to the small bathroom opens and you look up in the mirror to see Steve step inside before closing it behind him. There’s a bruise beginning to form under his left eye, but other than that, he looks unscathed from the fight.

There had been punches thrown, bottles broken, and a few bones, but none of The Annihilators were left standing. They should probably come up with a new name, you had thought to yourself on the car right back.

“You started a bar fight tonight,” he states walking over to lean against the sink beside you.

“Did I?” you look up at him innocently. “Are you mad?”

“Never,” his tone is quiet, eyes full of lust, before he glances to your injured hand. “You good?” There’s that tenderness again.

“Cut myself on a bottle,” you reply, twisting the knob with your uninjured hand to turn off the water, then you hold up the injury up for him to inspect. “I’ll live.”

He takes the edge of your hand in his, folding the rest of you fingers down against your palm with this thumb, “Good.” The way he looks at you as he pulls your finger into his mouth sends a chill through you. Feeling his tongue roll against the cut makes you shift uncomfortably. Him wanting to taste you like this, is whole different sensation. You can’t control yourself, mouth opening slightly as your fangs descend, a small moan following them.

This isn’t you.

Letting some guy have so much control over you.

But you had a hand in creating this monster.

You’re stretched out on your stomach across the lumpy motel bed, elbows propping you up with your laptop in front of you. The room is unusually quiet, because the two of you are researching your current case.

Well – Steve’s researching.

Feet propped on the table as he balances the chair on its back two legs. Scrolling the tablet in his hand, unaware your eyes are watching him from just over the edge of your laptop screen. The blue t-shirt clings to him and you can see the unintentional flex of muscles just below his tan skin as he moves his arm. He’s absent-mindedly chewing on the end of a pen, drawing your attention to his mouth. His bottom lip, a full, pale pink, velvety plush, begging for attention.

The chair lands on the ground – all four legs – with a snap and your body jerks in surprise at the sound. You’re unable to hide the smile on your face as you glance up to find Steve’s eyes glaring at you.

Busted.

“You know that smile drives me crazy,” Steve says calmly as he places his tablet and pen on the table. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you over there – looking like that?”

The smirk on your face widens as he stands up, approaching the bed, one finger closing your laptop slowly, “Well, how am I supposed to get anything done with you looking like that?”

The desire in his eyes as he stares down at you changes the whole atmosphere of the room.

It’s electric.  

Research time is over.

He takes the computer, turning to place it on the table, and you quickly sit up, pushing yourself to lean back against the headboard. The mattress sinks with his weight as he begins to crawl toward you. The heat radiating off his body wraps around every inch of you as he drags his body achingly slow against yours before settling between your legs.

“Did you find anything useful?” his voice gentle as you rake both your hands through his long, dirty blonde locks.

“That pensive look you have when your researching,” you remark, lightly scraping your nails along his jawline. “It’s very useful.” You pull your own lower lip between your teeth as you run the pad of your thumb across his plush, pink one, his heavy-lidded eyes staring up at you.

He grabs your thumb with his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face and you know what he wants without asking as he releases you. You pull your lips back slightly, extending your fangs as you bring your thumb up to prick it against the sharp point there. You gently rub your thumb back across his lower lip, leaving a small read smear of blood there. He pulls his lip into his mouth, savoring the taste for a moment before he moves closer, pressing his lips against yours. You lift your hips from the mattress, pushing into him, as your hands move down his shoulders, fingers clawing into him greedily.

Seeing him want you like that.

It gets you everytime.

Makes you weak.

You’re one of the toughest people he knows.

Steve enjoys you like this.

Weak.

Desperate.

For him.

***

Three victims.

Internal organs liquified.

That only means one thing.

A Djinn.

Steve knows the solution by now, so he’s prepared. Silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood – easy enough. What he isn’t prepared for is the fight that ensues between you and the monster. The man manages to pin you against the cinder block wall of the warehouse before Steve raises his arm, coming down forcibly, as he stabs the dagger through the Djinn’s back.

The monster slumps to the warehouse floor and Steve’s attention turns back to you in time to watch as your body slowly slides down the wall. He sees the dark blue handprint the Djinn left on your forearm and his heart drops.

***

You’re lying on the bed in the motel as Steve rummages through the box he pulled from the trunk. Your ‘Important Stuff’ as it is conveniently labeled in bright purple permanent marker on the side. It was his third or fourth hunt when he’d first saw this box.

“Are these spells?” Steve questions, flipping through the small brown leather journal.

“Yep,” you continue pulling items from the box, placing them carefully on the hotel bed.

“Are you a witch too?”

“I mean technically,” you give him a shrug of your shoulders as the look of intrigue on his face grows. He places the book down and picks up a small zipper pouch, opening it curiously.

“Not drugs I presume,” he pulls out the syringe filled with blue liquid, noting several other pre-filled syringes in the bag.

“No, those are antidotes,” you reply. “All of which are labeled. Aha! Found it.” Steve places the syringe back in the pouch and zips it closed before placing it back in the box. He watches as you open the small black journal, flipping to a page in it before you pass it to him. “How’s your Latin Rogers?”

“Latin?”

“Yea,” you smirk at him. “Exorcism. You need to memorize it. Also, there are a few sigils in there you need to know how to draw – just in case.”

“Are you giving me homework?” Steve looks at you curiously.

“Yea, I am,” you give him a pat on the shoulder as you walk past him.

“Where you going?” he turns to question you.

“To shower,” you smirk over your shoulder, “I’d say you could join me, but – homework.”

Steve dumps the syringes on the nightstand, searching for the correctly labeled one. Finding the one marked ‘DJINN’, he jerks the cap off with his teeth, exposing the sharp needle as his other hand pushes your sleeve further up your arm. He stabs you quickly, pushing the plunger slowly, injecting the antidote.

He waits a few moments after removing the needle, but nothing happens. Cupping the side of your face, he can feel the heat emanating from your skin. You’re burning up as sweat beads along your brow.

“Come on,” he says quietly to you, panic setting in. “Wake up. I don’t know what else to do.” Steve shakes his head. “I don’t have anyone to call.” His eyes widen as the thought strikes him. “But you do.”

Stumbling over his feet as he rushes for your jacket, he pulls your cell phone from the pocket, searching the contacts. He hits send on the only name he’s familiar with as far as hunters go.

“Sam?” Steve says as soon as the other man answers. “We haven’t met, but –"

“Steve?” Sam glances over to his brother, noting the frantic tone in the other man’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“She won’t wake up,” he states into the phone, glancing at you on the bed. “It was a Djinn. I gave her an antidote she had, but it hasn’t worked.”

“Where are you?” Sam questions.

“Shreveport,” Rogers responds. “What do I do?”

“Just text me the address,” the man on the other end says. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“You sure?”

“We know a guy.”

***

Steve opens the motel room door and immediately goes on the defensive as he recognizes the man standing there, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Not a demon anymore,” Dean replies as the taller man behind him holds up a small jar with a dingy brown looking substance in it.

“We don’t have time for that explanation,” the man with longer hair states and Steve recognizes his voice as Sam. “I need a piece of her hair.” Steve takes a deep breath, nodding as he moves to allow them in. Sam continues to explain as the three of them make their way over to the bed. “The type of Djinn you were after, it feeds off fear. It puts its victims in a dreamlike state – nightmare really.”

“So, I’m gonna go in and wake her up,” Dean says, plucking a piece of hair from your scalp and passing it to Sam.

“What?” Steve questions.

“African dream root,” Sam responds, adding your hair to the jar. “It will let him enter the dream she’s in.”

“Shouldn’t I go in?” Rogers places his hands on his hips.

Dean cocks his head at the man as he reaches for the mixture his brother is holding, “Sorry pal, but I have more experience in this.” He quickly turns up the concoction, the disgust apparent on his face as he finishes it, handing the jar back to this brother. “Alright, hit me Sam.”

“Hit you?” Steve looks at Dean in confusion.

“Gotta go to sleep fast,” he remarks as his brother carefully twists the lid back on the glass jar, turning to place it on the table behind him.

“Oh,” the blue-eyed man says with a nod of understanding.

Sam hears the sound of Steve’s fist connecting with his brother’s jaw before he even turns around to find Dean lying on the floor.

“He better get her out,” Rogers remarks coldly.

Sam gives him a reassuring nod, “He will.”

***

You’re back in the kitchen.

Is it the eleventh or twelfth time now?

You’ve lost track.

Except this time something is different.

“There you are,” a familiar voice from down the hall states.

“What are you doing here?” you question the hunter as he approaches where you stand in the kitchen, glancing around the interior of the building curiously, obviously impressed with his surroundings.

“You’re dreaming,” Dean says. “Where are we?”

“The compound,” you reply, looking at the blood bag in your hand remorsefully. “In New York. Apparently, my worst nightmare.”

“How is this your worst nightmare?” the confusion apparent on Dean’s face.

“Because Steve’s here,” you say quietly.

“What were you thinking!” a voice booms from the hallway and Dean watches a clean-shaven Rogers, silver star on the front of the dark uniform he’s wearing, storm towards them. His hair is shorter than the man the Winchester had been with moments ago and he’s looking at you with such contempt that the green-eyed hunter has to remind himself not to interfere.

“I was only trying –” you try to respond.

“You’re fucking reckless,” Steve’s words are sharp and venomous. “And a liability to this team. I’ll be discussing your transfer with Fury this afternoon.” He looks down at the bag in your hand. The look of disgust on his face feels like a knife in your chest. “There’s no place for someone like you here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he storms away, fighting back the tears that are burning your eyes. Dean steps closer to you as you glance over to him, your voice breaking as you say quietly, “That’s who he should be – Captain America.” Your eyes move back to the blood bag in your hand, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. “But he hates who I am.”

“You’re afraid of losing him,” Dean stares at you for a moment, understanding this nightmare more.

“Because I will,” you say slowly. “I lose everyone.” Holding the blood bag up exasperatedly, you sigh. “And now that I’m this – I didn’t think anyone would –”  

“You won’t lose him,” the green-eyed hunter responds. “He cares about you.”

You glance from the bag in your hand up to your friend and hesitate before saying, “So did you.”

“Yea, and I’m sorry for that,” his face tenses as he gives a small nod. “But he’s not me.” Dean takes the blood bag from your hand and lays it on the counter before taking your hands in his. “You have to let this fear go. The longer you’re in here, your body is –”

“Dying,” you finish his sentence, seeing the worry in his eyes.

“And after everything Sam and I did, you can’t give up like that.” Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you glance over at the blood bag, unsure of when this had become your biggest fear. Your friend squeezes your hands gently, bringing your eyes back to his. “You can’t give up on him. You have to wake up.”

***

You slowly wake up to see Steve standing at the foot of the bed talking with Sam. Sitting up slowly, you press your palm against your temple where your head is throbbing, “That sucked.” The words come out slowly.

“Hey,” Steve moves to you. “You good?”

You nod your head as he pulls you into his chest, glancing to the floor where Dean is sitting up, grabbing his jaw gingerly. His gaze meets yours and he gives you a small nod which you return as you lean against Steve.

***

“Thank you,” Steve says it quietly as he stands beside Dean, watching as Sam uses your laptop to show you something he’s been researching.

“Anytime,” he responds. “And thank you.”

Rogers glances over to him in confusion, “For what?”

“Seeing the bigger picture,” Dean replies. “Loving all of her, even the parts she doesn’t.”

Steve sees the far-off look in the man’s eyes, “I don’t know what happened, but you could have killed her, and you didn’t, that’s saying something.”

“Yea,” the hunter responds. “I guess so.”

***

Steve leans against the bathroom door frame, watching as you pull your hair back into a ponytail in the mirror, “Well, the guys are gone, and angels are real huh?”

“Most are dicks,” you reply, glancing over at him. “Cas is okay though.”

He pushes off the doorframe, moving to stand behind you in front of the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as he says softly, “You won’t lose me.”

You sigh heavily, gaze meeting his through the glass, “He told you?” Steve nods slightly, confirming your theory.

“You think we’d be like this? If the accords never happened? Here – together?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably at the question, seeing the concern in your eyes, “Of course. Why would you ask that?”

You smile slightly at his response, “I’m a vampire and you’re –” You pause, contemplating the words. “Captain America. Two different people. I don’t see you really choosing me.”

“Hey,” he says softly, turning to look directly at you, instead of in the mirror. “We’re not that different. You know me. All of me, and you accept it.” His eyes roam across your features as you glance up at him, his gaze meeting yours. “I’ll always choose you.”

His lips press against yours softly – reaffirming. Leaning his forehead against yours, you hesitantly touch the side of his face, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whisper against his lips, “Okay.”

You said you wouldn’t do again.

But there’s more to this.

You can feel it.

You’re more than friends.

More than lovers.

More than anything.

So, you’ll willingly give Steve the power to break your heart.

***

You toss your duffel in the floor beside the bed, “I don’t know. Maybe they have people in the barn that they’re feeding off of.”

“Could be,” Steve closes the door to the room behind him. “That would explain why they didn’t try to feed any while we were following them tonight.” He places his bag on the foot of the bed before a soft knock sounds on the door.

You glance at him, raising a curious eyebrow and he turns, immediately pulling the pistol from the waistband of his jeans. He raises it, holding it close to his chest as you and he move carefully towards the door. Steve gives you a nod and you reach to slowly open the door, surprising both of you to see one of the men you were following earlier standing on the other side.

The dark-haired man holds his hands out peacefully, “I’m not here for a fight. I came alone.”

“Who are you?” Steve questions, keeping his gun trained on him.

“My name’s Logan,” he responds, then looks at you directly. “I know you are hunters and I was hoping we could talk. One vampire to another.”

You glance to Steve before responding, your tone harsh, “One wrong move and I’ll rip your heart out.”

“I promise darlin’,” he says sincerely, a slight accent slipping through. Texan maybe. “I just want to talk.”

You open the door wider and allow him to enter the room as Steve lowers his gun but doesn’t tuck it away just yet. Watching as the man moves to sit at the small table by the window as you close the door.

“So,” Logan begins his eyes following you, “I assume you were a hunter before you were turned.”

You fold your arms across your chest as you stare at him curiously, “Yea. Now, why are you here?”

“Because I know why you’re here,” he states. “Those bodies that were found. It wasn’t my people.”

You look over to Steve and the two of you share a look of disbelief. Steve’s tone is sarcastic, “Well, point us in the direction of the nest that is responsible then.”

“I’m serious,” Logan’s tone with Steve is cold. “We don’t feed on humans. Our family doesn’t hurt others. We survive on animal blood.”

“Then where did the three bodies come from?” you question him, and Steve can hear the sincerity in your voice. You believe him.

“I don’t know,” he responds. “But we were afraid hunters would come.” He gives you a smile then, bright and warm. “When I sensed you, I thought maybe, just maybe, you might listen. After all, you’re one of us.”

“I’m not one of you,” you correct him sharply and he sits back a little straighter in the chair, seeing the disgust on your face.

“Darlin’,” he cocks an eyebrow. “A vamp is a vamp, nest or not. Couldn’t you sense me before you opened the door earlier?” He can see the confusion on your face, and he tilts his head in surprise. “Really? You must still be a fairly new vampire then. If you want some advice, I suggest you stop slumming it with humans.” His eyes flick to Steve for a second before landing back on yours. “Find you a mate. You’d benefit from that bond. I miss having it.”

“I didn’t ask for advice,” you narrow your eyes at him. “I want to know where the bodies came from.”

“I have a couple of my guys looking into it from our end,” Logan says as he stands up. “I just didn’t want you to come in – blades swinging – on my family thinking we were to blame.” He walks over to the door, opening it. “I’ll reach back out tomorrow.” With a nod to you he leaves, closing the door behind him and you turn to Steve with your eyebrows raised high.

“Did that just happen?”

Steve unchambers the round in his gun before laying it on the nightstand beside the bed, “Which part? Him saying they weren’t killing people or him shamelessly flirting with you?”

“That wasn’t flirting,” you shake your head as Steve sits down on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots.

“He all but asked you to be his new mate,” his tone slightly exasperated as he tugs one boot off, then another.

You walk over, stepping between his knees as you rake your fingers through his hair, your tone verging on playful, “Is that jealousy I hear?”

“Maybe,” he tilts his head back to look up at you. The smile on your face soft as you lightly drag your fingernails across his scalp.  

“Well, sucks for him,” you begin leaning closer, his eyes following you – hanging on every word. “I like slumming it with you.” You press your lips against his for a moment, feeling the heat of his palms on the back of your thighs.

You start to pull away, only for him slowly rise with you, his lips staying against yours as he smiles against your mouth. “Slumming it huh?” he questions, tightening his hold on your legs.

“I wouldn’t be staying in shitholes like this for just anyone,” you smile genuinely, trying not to get lost in the way he’s looking at you. Intimate moments like this it’s easy to do.

“So, just me huh?” he cocks one eyebrow smugly and you scoff at the quick turn in his demeanor.

“Uh huh,” you free yourself from his grasp and turn to walk away. “Just you. I mean, maybe Thor, I’ve never really –” Steve cuts your sentence off as his arm slips around your waist quickly, lifting you from the floor and tossing you onto the bed with ease. A squeal escapes your lips that turns into laughter as your back lands hard on the mattress. Steve’s on top of you instantly, pinning your wrists above your head, narrowed eyes glaring down at you.

“Thor,” the name rolls of his tongue in disgust. “Really?”

Biting the corner of your bottom lip to hide your smirk before you say, “I do like this jealous side of you.”

His lips press against yours roughly, tongue unrelenting as it dives into your mouth. A hard, wet clashing of teeth and tongues.  You know tomorrow morning when you wake up, your skin will be sensitive from his beard.

It always is when he’s in this predatory state.

Demanding.

Punishing.

Hot.

Always worth it.

***

Consciousness comes to you slowly.

You’re weak.

A sickness churning in your stomach.

Your wrists are bound to the arms of a chair and as your eyes adjust you realize you’re inside a barn.

The barn.

Your eyes land on something bloody and disfigured near you on the ground. You squint, realizing it’s Logan’s severed head, his body not far away. There are others just like him nearby – so much blood. You close your eyes, trying to recall the last thing that happened before you blacked out.

Coffee.

You had gone for coffee.

Standing at the small table you dig through your bag for cash as you feel arms snake their way around your waist. His breath is warm against the curve of your neck before you feel the softness of his lips there. Looking up you see your reflections in the mirror in front of you. His hair is a mess, eyes still heavy from sleep as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m going to shower,” he smiles slowly. “Wanna join?”

You lean your head against his, a small pout on your lips, “I need coffee. Raincheck?”

Opening your eyes back up you see the IV in the bend of your elbow, dark red liquid fills the small plastic tube. You follow the line up to see a bag of blood and you know instantly that it’s not fresh blood you’re being dosed with.

Dead man’s blood would explain the weak, sick feeling your experiencing. Which could only mean one thing.

Hunters.

***

Steve tries your cell again in frustration, but it goes straight to voicemail. You’ve been gone too long for coffee. He jerks the door open to head outside and immediately sees the two cups halfway across the lot, rolling lazily in the breeze, pavement still wet from the coffee that was inside them.  

Panic sets in and he knows exactly where he’s going. If they’ve laid a finger on you, hell, even if they haven’t, he is going to enjoy cutting Logan’s head off.

***

“It’s about time,” a man’s voice makes you drag your head up achingly slow to look at him. Even your eyelids are heavy. He’s about six foot, with dark hair and dark eyes. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Who are you?” your voice cracks as you question him, noticing the tripod with the camera mounted on top of it behind him.

“I’m Brody Johnson,” he replies. “A hunter, but I bet you already figured that out.”

You nod, glancing to Logan’s head, “Did you kill them?”

“Oh yea,” he folds his arms across his chest in triumph. “See, vampires are my sort of my thing.” You flick your eyes back over too him. Neither of you aware that Steve is just outside the door listening in. “They were just bait really, to get you here.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“Oh, I was hoping they were dropping bodies,” he remarks. “But they weren’t, so I paid a guy to set up a couple deaths to look like vampire kills.”

“Why – why would you do that?”

“I needed to attract hunters, specifically the infamous hunter slash vampire,” Brody’s smile is malicious. “See, my parents were killed by vampires when I was just a kid, so I’m hunt them. All of them.”

The door to the barn opens and Steven steps inside, hands raised in front of him with his eyes on you. Another man enters behind him, gun to the back of Rogers’ head, “Look who I found outside.”

You let out a snarl with what little strength you have left, fangs descending as the man behind Steve shoves him forward with the gun.

“There she is,” Brody smirks at your reaction, then shakes his head. “I was hoping you were going to sit this one out Cap.”

Steve’s eyes widen a little as he sees the other dead vampires. He glances back up to you and his heart sinks. Even with your fangs out, he’s never seen you look so fragile – weak.

“I should have joined you,” you try to give Steve a smile, but all he does is nod his understanding.

Brody pushes a button on the camera, “Now, smile. I’m sending this as a message.”

“To who?” you question.

“The hunters who let you live,” he glares at you menacingly.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve questions him.

“She’s a fucking vampire,” the man replies simply.

“And she’s also a hunter, just like you,” Steve raises his voice angrily. “She saves people.” The man behind him shoves his shoulder roughly as a reminder that he has a gun on him. When Steve turns at the man, he is physically shaken by the rage in Rogers’ eyes and the hand holding the gun trembles. He steadies it with his other hand to the best of his ability.

No one told him when he got out of bed this morning that he was going to be taking on a pissed of Captain America. If they had, he probably would have stayed home.

“How long before she turns on everyone?” Brody seethes. “She’s a monster just like rest.” He picks up the machete from the table beside him, blood from the other vampires dripping from it. “With this job, you kill the monster, doesn’t matter who they are – or who they were.”

“So, you kill because of what they are, not who they are,” Steve’s tone is cold. “Sounds like you’re the fucking monster.”

You lean back in the chair as Brody stalks towards you, closing the short distance between you. Fighting against the restraints is useless, you’re too weak. Fangs still out with your lips curling back in a sneer you refuse to cower down to this asshole as he raises the blade. Letting the words slip past your lips, “You’re a dead man.”

Because Brody is so caught up in wanting to kill you, that he’s not paying attention to the fact that Steve just landed a kick to his friend’s chest hard enough to knock him back across to the door of the barn. Gun sliding through the dirt behind him. Brody moves to swing the blade and Steve’s hand catches his wrist, twisting it back painfully. He drops the machete and before he can think, Steve has him in a chokehold.

You’ve never seen Steve like this before. He’s all rage and fear – the perfect storm. You hear the gut-wrenching sound of bones snapping like twigs with the simple jerk of his shoulders, and Brody’s lifeless body slips from Steve’s arms, falling to the ground with an empty thud.

He rushes to you, hair falling in his face as he gently pulls the needle from your arm, before ripping the leather restraints from your wrists with ease.

“You okay?” he cups the side of your face and you have no idea how there can be such softness in him after what he just did.

“I’ll live,” you say quietly.

He smiles, relief washing over him, “Good.”

***

He's standing there only in his jeans, shirtless, palms flat on either side of the bathroom sink as he stares at himself in the mirror. Today had been difficult for both of you to say the least. It’s written all over his face. Worry etched in his eyes – fear – of what could have happened. You move quietly behind him, slipping your hands gently over his, lips brushing along his spine as you interlace your fingers with his for a moment.

His jaw clenches, the feeling of your breath hot against his skin surprising him as you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Pressing your forehead flush against his back, you slowly slide your hands along his forearms up his biceps. His skin soft and warm, taut over hard muscles. The strength they contain can easily kill, something you’d been reminded of today.

He'd killed for you.

Without hesitation.

It turns you on just thinking about it.

"It's not your fault," he says softly, feeling you press closer against his back. He loves how your body melds so easily with his.

One thought still eats away at him.

He almost lost you today.

Knowing it rips him apart at the seams.

He's supposed to be tougher than that.

The serum had made him strong.

It didn’t prepare him for this – for you.

One look from you.

One touch.

And he's weak.

He turns, hands lifting you by the waist to sit you on the sink in front of him. With a sigh, he brushes the hair behind your ear, the color has still not fully returned to your cheeks. “You need to feed more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you respond. “I had like two whole blood bags.”

“Maybe you need something stronger,” his hand is resting on your neck and you can smell the blood pumping through veins. Not that you’d tell him that.

You smirk, “Pretty sure Thor’s unavailable.”

His eyes narrow at your joke.

The smile on your lips usually makes him smile in return, but it doesn’t this time and you furrow your brows, reaching over to put your hand on his shoulder, “Hey, what is it?” There’s something troubling him.

His thumb brushes against the skin under your jaw as he takes a deep breath, “I just keep thinking that I could have lost you today.” It feels as if he’s staring into your soul and you can sense his desperation. “I can’t lose you.”

His vulnerability breaks you.

He needs the connection more than you need the healing.

This is your bond.

You move your hand to his wrist that’s still resting on your neck. You give him a soft, loving smile, “You won’t.” Lifting his hand as you turn, you kiss his pulse point once before glancing back up at him, repeating your reassurance, “You won’t.” Letting your fangs descend, you bite into the vein and drink from him slowly.

He wraps his other arm around you, pulling you to his chest as he presses his lips against your temple.

He’ll kiss you a little longer from now on.

Hold you a little tighter.