Please feel free to message me with requests or just to introduce yourself, I love making new friends <3. Minors please do not interact with 18+, if you choose to read regardless of ratings, DO NOT INTERACT.
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Steve Rogers/Captain America x Gender Neutral! reader
word count: 738
Warning(s): Fluff, anxiety, mentions of PTSD, and nightmares, some kinda heavy religious themes because Steve is religious.
Synopsis: Nightmares aren’t new for Steve, but it’s your first night staying over and you’re completely unprepared for it.
A/n: does anybody else think that Steve would call his S/O all of these sweet nicknames? But only when it’s the two of them. Like he’s a private guy, that’s just his business. No one needs to know that he calls them “love” and “darlin’” but him.
You're roused from your sleep when a broad shoulder rolls into your own, and you hear Steve cry out softly. You sit up quickly, blinking sleep from your eyes and turning to check on the man next to you.
His face is scrunched in pain and he flinches away from an unseen force and rolls away.
“Please, please,” he begs, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the frantic pace of your own heart. “Please just don’t hurt them.”
You aren’t sure what phantoms haunt him, but you know that they’re from deep in his past, even before the serum and WWII. You quickly kneel and lean forward to shake his left arm gently.
“Steve,” You exclaim, feeling panic slip into your bloodstream. “Steve! Wake up!”
He startles awake and slips out of the bed with the force he recoils from you. Fear is painted on every one of his features and there’s a dent in the wall from his elbow. Steve slowly begins to catch his breath, and you watch his chests rise and fall heavily, the sweat stain on the collar growing larger as the cotton sticks to his drenched skin. The terror slowly leaves his face, draining from him to leave him with an expression of utter exhaustion.
“You okay?”
You extend a hand to him and he smiles softly, swallowing hard, as he reaches out to take it.
“I’m okay now, Dove.” Steve’s voice is soft, weary but filled with warmth as he strokes your knuckles with his thumb. “I’m just going to go get a glass of water and I’ll be back in bed.”
He stands, stretching out his neck and sighing as he stares down at the hole in the drywall.
“I’ll fix that tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it, Steve.” You murmur, settling back onto the bed, and feeling the damp spots on the sheets where his sweat soaked through his pajamas.
Concern drives you out of the bed to follow him into the kitchen, only half a minute behind him. Steve is standing in his small kitchen, a glass of cold water sitting on the counter and dripping condensation onto the counter in the sweltering heat of summer in Manhattan. His back is to you, but you can see the slump in his shoulders. You step forward and make sure he knows you’re there, because as cool as he pretends to be, you can see the slight shake of his hands.
Once you’re close enough, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean forward to press your head against his shoulder.
“You don’t have to pretend for me.”
Your words are quiet in the loud silence of the kitchen, and you can feel the deep breath he takes in.
“I don’t want to burden you. This is my cross to bear.” His voice is solemn, and the tone he uses is the one from 1943, of a young man with too much on his shoulders.
“You don’t need to die for everyone’s sins, Steve.” You counter, holding him tighter to you and pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. “You just need to be you. I love you just the same, nightmares and all.”
“They don’t happen that frequently,” Steve smiles at you from over his shoulder and lifts the glass to take a drink.
You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, noting the slight stubble beneath his jaw and the scar from shaving.
“Why do I feel like that’s a lie, Rogers?”
His lips curl into a smile, and his eyes crinkle sweetly as he turns to hold you.
“Has anyone ever told you that you shine like a star when you smile?” The words leave your lips without your permission, and you blame it on the fact that it’s 2 am.
“Isn’t the saying usually ‘shine like the sun’?” He asks, leaning forward to press a kiss between your eyebrows.
“But you shine softly instead of brightly, and your smile is like a star twinkling: gentle and ever-changing.”
His eyes squint and his lips twitch.
“You need to go to bed, you’re getting loopy.”
“No! I’m serious, Steve-”
“Nope. No arguments.” Steve scoops you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest and you curse his enhanced strength as he takes you back to bed. He drops a sugar-sweet kiss on the top of your head and grins tiredly at you.
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It doesn’t matter how much Seokjin apologizes, he’s insulted the House of Kim, the House that his best friend and longtime partner-in-crime belongs to. The punishment is one Seokjin will never forget.
Seokjin knew that the Kim Family had run a plantation, of sorts, for centuries. He had never been told what exactly they were farming but He’s always speculated that it was a kind of extremely potent drug that they sold to humans for major profit in America and Europe.
That was to be expected, the Kims are Vampires after all, with a reputation of being particularly vicious when it comes to money and the throne to the Head of the House.
The four-story Mansion that the four generations of Kim’s live in is located on a large plantation. Roughly one hundred acres of plantation, varying in its products. Seokjin knows that the Kims grow mainly oranges and export them as a cover, he’s never seen evidence of any highly illegal drug growing and cultivation anywhere on the one hundred acres. Regardless of the lack of evidence, what else could bring in so much cash flow other than drugs?
Seokjin discovers, one week into his training to be the husband to the Head of the House, that he had been horribly wrong with his speculations.
Dinah, the young American Vampire responsible for his training, first taught him that the House runs like a large Business. Each family member gets a cut of the money made each decade, roughly a couple of billion dollars each. Not only does each family member get a cut, but most of the money goes towards rejuvenating the ‘product,’ as Dinah had called it.
“How much rejuvenation does a plant need?” Jin had jokingly asked, and Dinah had only stared at him with wide blue eyes.
He continues, feeling rather idiotic, “y’know cause it’s a drug that’s being sold.” The wide-eyed gaze only widens. “Does it not come from a plant?” Dread seeps into his veins like poison.
Dinah takes a huge gulp of air and looks thoroughly seasick, “you mean Mr. Kim hasn’t told you?”
Seokjin narrows his eyes minutely, just a twitch of his eyelids, realizing that he’s been missing a vital piece of information for a good half a century. “What is it, exactly, that is the main product of the Kim family?”
Dinah looks similar to a cornered mouse confronted with a glass bowl and a whisk; confused and frightened.
Seokjin feels like shoving his pretend fiance down each and every set of stairs just so he can watch him tumble ass over teakettle down towards the ground. (There are thirty-seven staircases total in the mansion.) But there are more pressing manners, and more pressing information that Seokjin needs to learn as soon as possible, so he leaves Dinah, the frightened mouse she is, in the study.
His shoes click-clack as he treads down the staircase closest to him, speeding down it and suddenly feeling just how short he cut the nail of his big toe.
The anger is bubbling hot in his stomach, rising and foaming just as he rounds the corner to the main hall, causing him to lurch forward through the grand arch of the open doorway and stumble into a family meeting. He comes face to face with a table lined with pale-skinned Vampires, roughly twenty sets of eyes peering at him impetuously.
“What is it,” He hears himself ask, mouth moving without his consent, “that is the main export of the Kim House?” His voice is alarmed and booming around the stone room.
Seokjin stares straight into the eyes of a snake as he strides towards the table. Mother Kim looks back at the papers in front of her, crossing her legs and letting a red stiletto peek out from behind the edge of the table.
“It’s human blood, isn’t it?” Seokjin’s hands are shaking, and he hasn’t felt this way since 1846. “That’s the main export of the grand House of Kim? You harvest blood from the natives on this island and sell it to Vampires all over the world, yes?”
“Control your fiance, Namjoon.”
Her tone is bored, as though she couldn’t be bothered with Seokjin’s antics any longer.
As though he no longer serves her any purpose. And, Namjoon, sitting at her right-hand side, careens over the table in a directionless blur grasping at Seokjin’s biceps with firm hands and begins to push him out of the room with stern pressure. Jin resists furiously, clawing at the Vampire’s silk blazer and snarling at him with apparent venom,
“It sickens me to see you become your mother’s puppet.”
Namjoon’s normally schooled expression twitches, the mask slipping ever-so-slightly out of place. Seokjin continues anyway, pushing the words out through clamped teeth because he’s angry and because he’s been lied to.
“It’s devastating really, that you’re not even good enough to be her main bi-”
That seems to do it for Namjoon, as the Vampire takes a hand from his arm to clamp it underneath his jaw to hold his mouth shut with a palm underneath his chin and the pads of his fingers bruising the Witch’s cheekbones.
Seokjin persists, spittle flying from his lips as he hisses animalistically through clenched teeth trying to give Namjoon a piece of his goddamned mind. His saliva begins to froth around his lips as Namjoon muscles him out of the hall. Each Vampire around the table looks down at their laps, ignoring the scene of a fellow family member so brutally hauling his husband-to-be out of the room.
Even outside the hall Namjoon doesn’t stop, keeping his unforgiving hold on Seokjin until they’ve made it to his room. When he finally releases Jin, the Witch rounds on him furiously, grasping at the blazer again, fingers sliding against the soft fabric before gaining a firm hold and yanking his supposed fiance towards him.
Namjoon stumbles into Seokin’s broad shoulders, steadying himself with a hand on the bookcase behind him.
“How dare you-” Seokjin’s voice starts furiously, a rampant stream of fire blazing a path off his tongue to Namjoon’s ears.
The Vampire’s voice cuts through his sentence bringing him to a stuttering stop.
“I didn’t do it because she told me to.” Namjoon wraps his hands gently around Seokjin’s wrists with a placating tone.
Seokjin does not want to be placated.
“You son of a bitch!” It’s shrill, like the buzzing of a mosquito and it rings in the Vampire’s ears. “I’ve given up everything because of your bitch of a mother and you expect me to just fucking forgive you because I said we were engaged?”
The Witch bitterly tilts his head, watching the anxious and grim expression on Namjoon’s face, and screeches, “Oh-ho-ho, no way in hell am I gonna continue with this fake engagement shit now you little fu-”
The walls rumble as Namjoon rushes to cover his mouth with both hands. He’s too late.
Mother Kim bursts through the wall to their left in a plume of dust and crumbling stone. Her black hair flutters back down to her shoulders, emerald drop earrings shifting in rhythm with her stilettos as she strides towards Seokjin out of the rubble.
“Care to repeat that, dearest?”
The snake’s eyes are back on him again, the predator watching what it thinks to be prey. Seokjin can’t wait to show her how wrong she is about him, how wrong she is to think he’s so weak.
“I think I’ve thought of a fitting punishment for such a venomous liar.” She holds up a book that Seokjin had seen on Namjoon’s nightstand a few minutes prior.
The Witch resists the urge to snort at this double-standard bitch who calls him a liar.
“‘The Most Dangerous Game’ by Richard Connell.” Mother Kim turns the red leather-bound book between her fingers. “I quite like this book,” her tone is smug and pleased as she holds the book deftly and smiles a far-too-polite smile for her next words, “it’s time for an old-fashioned Witch-hunt.”
The Vampires in the room let out pleased noises, glancing at one another with blood-stained eyes and a buzz of excitement fills the room. Namjoon stands at his Mother’s right-hand side in the hall, an unfathomable expression on his face. Mother Kim grins at Seokjin, eyes narrowing with the menacing smile. White-hot rage rips through the Witch, and the hissing and snarling of the excited Vampires get louder. Namjoon looks vaguely ill, looking at Seokjin with wide eyes.
Seokjin has heard of this kind of punishment before and it’s so Vampire he has to stop himself from snorting at the pure irony of it all.
The rules, as explained to him, are fairly simple:
He, Seokjin, has to survive for three whole days on the island.
He is not allowed to leave, neither are any of the others, but he is allowed to use whatever magic he pleases to survive.
There is a team of thirty Vampires set to kill him. Whoever succeeds in killing him will be in line for the throne, no matter their heritage.
If Seokjin survives the three days then Namjoon is free of the marriage requirement and will ascend the throne as the first unmarried heir of the House of Kim.
Namjoon will also be placed in The Hunt, but he will decide to either be involved or not, and if chooses to be involved: whose side he would take.
The fifth rule is what makes Seokjin’s blood run cold. He’s fairly certain Namjoon will pick his side if any, but there's a five percent chance he’ll join the Vampire team and Seokjin knows that Namjoon could kill him so easily if he wanted to.
It’s not that the Witch lacks strength, he’s earned himself various nicknames in the process of evading Witch Hunts, but Namjoon is a Born Vampire.
Born Vampires are stronger than those that are Turned because they never had to be human, they never had a form that was once weak. Essentially, they are pure Vampire. This makes them stronger, faster, and in Namjoon’s case, bigger than turned Vampires would be. This is why Seokjin knows that Namjoon could easily kill him if he so chose to, it wouldn’t take much really, just a few bites at the arteries and a quick snap of his neck while the Witch is preoccupied and he’ll be dead. He likes to think he’d be quick enough to react, but Seokjin has never truly seen Namjoon’s strength and speed in action.
It terrifies him that his life, all those years, relies so heavily on the decision of one being to the point that Seokjin is kneeling in chains at the front of the Kim mansion.
The Witch is surrounded by the thirty Vampires and a maze of butterfly bushes that smell wonderful but do nothing to quell the fire surging through his veins, burning like ice and salt on bare skin. The magic that runs through him is thrumming up in him, having spent a long time dormant within him, never needing to come out in Seokjin’s everyday matters.
He’s preparing for it now by dragging his fingertips through the mud beneath him, ready to draw runes whenever necessary to set fire to some fucking Vamps.
Mother Kim walks out the front steps not long after Seokjin finishes his thoughts. Namjoon trails a short distance behind her, looking nothing short of furious. Jin raises his head to look into his friend’s eyes and the Vampire emptily stares back, brown eyes full of anger and frustration, none of it directed at the Witch, but unnerving for Seokjin all the same.
The Vampires circling him become restless, shifting their weight from their heels to the balls of their feet, clicking their tongues against fangs and hissing under their breath. The noises of a predator eagerly awaiting the chase for prey, little do they know Seokjin is not as weak as a human man.
Mother Kim, winter white pantsuit as pristine as ever, her red stilettos a striking contrast to the unnatural green of the grass, hooks a finger underneath Seokjin’s chin prompting his gaze to rise.
He does, if only out of the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to stop her from killing him right here, right now. Jin looks into her eyes, the irises a startling red, and she smiles at him with her equally red lips.
“Are you ready, Witch?” Her lips dramatize the “wh” sound as she leans away from him and gestures for them to release the cuffs.
Jungkook and Taehyung, the poor souls, grit their teeth and do as she’s instructed, uncuffing Seokjin and stepping back with the steel shackles in their hands. Taehyung looks guilty and Jungkook looks only mildly ashamed, both refusing to make eye contact with Seokjin.
Jin’s not angry with them, he understands family politics, especially with such a deeply politically family as the Jeons and the Kims. And to express this neutrality and understanding, he does his best to smile weakly at the couple.
Mother Kim, however, regains his attention with another snap of her fingers as the Witch rubs gently at his sore wrists.
“You have all been informed of the rules. Breakin the rules will result in immediate incineration, courtesy of me.” She gestures with a hand to herself, “ because I am nothing, if not fair.”
Mother Kim smiles again and claps her hands. “Spectators, place your bets!” she gestures to the rest of the family not standing around Seokjin.
