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hopeamarsu · 2 years

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Lionhearted

Steve Murphy x gn!reader

Word count 2,7k

Warnings: Werecreature AU, Were-lion!Steve, whump, aftermath of a shooting, blood, wounds, magic and self-healing, sort of a kiss from a lion (that’s a thing now, yup)

A/N: It’s been a moment since I’ve written anything, but Sam ( @green-socks ) and I started talking about were-lion Steve Murphy and things kind of spiraled from there. I have to give her all the credit, because without Sam, I don’t think I would’ve been able to put two words together for this one or any other story. This is for you darling, thank you for giving me the bump and breathing life into this ❤️

It’s not beta’ed, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. It’s also set somewhere within canon events while ignoring several things that happen in the canon. I don’t make the rules, the supernatural just swept me away.

I hope you enjoy!

He feels like he’s underwater.

His ears are clogged, no longer ringing but full of pressure. His eyes are watery, making everything blurry and wobbly and his body feels like it weighs a ton. The only things reminding him of reality are the pulsing, bleeding, and throbbing sensations on his lower belly, the stickiness of his blood, and the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his fever-hot skin.

The wound.

In an instant, Steve is launched backward to see the sicario turn in his heels again and aim at the DEA agents with his gun. Then suddenly his memory jumps forward and it’s an all-blinding flash and a bang and everything hurts.

Something yanks his shoulder - someone, his mind corrects - bringing him back to reality, and Steve groans in pain. His feet drag, slipping in the hot concrete as he is pulled around yet another corner.

“Fucking gringo, trying to play the hero and getting in the way of a fucking bullet! Fuck you Murphy, we are not dragging your dead ass body out of the comuna, you hear me?!”

Steve barely listens to the words of his partner Javier Peña cursing at him. It’s nothing new, the other man is always grumbling and moaning and bitching at him. That all can wait, he has more important things to worry about now. Steve’s blurry blue eyes try to focus, barely making out the shape running in front of him and Peña, gun aimed forward to secure the route.

You.

The very reason he jumped when the gun was cocked and why the bullet hit him and not its intended target.

He’s been halfway in love with you since the first time you entered his and Javier’s room, with the no-fucks-given attitude and quick banter with a foul mouth that could rival even the dirtiest sailor knocking him dead on his ass from the get-go. And the longer he’s gotten to spend in your company, the larger his feelings have grown until they are ready to burst out of his chest at any given moment.

But he’s sure you don’t return his feelings. Sure, you flirt lightly with both him and Peña, as one does to survive this hell, but it didn’t mean anything. It was just harmless teasing between partners. He sighs internally, his pining was bordering on pathetic really. But he’d done what any man in love would do, protect the person he loves and he has zero regrets about that one.

“Better… me…” He wheezes and Peña snorts next to his ear.

“Better none of us, you idiot. But I know.” Peña mumbles, all too familiar with the candle his blonde partner holds for the third member of their team. It might’ve come up during a few of their more liquid excursions to the local bar late at night. He sighs softly, before tucking Murphy closer to him.

“C’mon, we got to get you to a hospital. Agent!” Javier yells, making Steve wince and groan again when the shorter man jerks him forward again. “Any luck finding a vehicle?”

“None!” You yell back, eyes scanning the area to locate a car.

“No… hos… hospital,” Steve croaks, the beast inside him rattling at the cages for the opportunity to be let out. It’s been agitated ever since the team left the safety of the Embassy to check out the latest tip on locating Escobar and now it’s down-right aggravated at the wound throbbing in his ribs.

He can tell the beast wants to heal itself, let the magic coursing in his veins work their thing. He’s not immortal, not by any means, but having the ability to heal does come in handy when he’s severely wounded. The power of the supernatural, he thinks wryly but is inclined to agree with the lion. The wound is not deadly, at least not immediately, and trying to find a doctor who is willing to treat supernaturals is hard, even in a place that thrives on the mystic and things that cannot be explained. Him shifting to his lion form privately and letting the magic work it’s thing on the wound is his best bet.

“Heal… heal fas-faster. As my other... self.”

Steve can feel Peña stiffen beside him before training takes over and the darker man nods. He has told Javier about his condition and abilities a few months back on a stakeout where nothing happened apart from a little liquid courage and, despite the obvious shock from the older man, Javier had taken the fact that his partner is a were-lion on a stride. He hoists the hand under Steve’s armpit up, making the wound jostle again.

Steve grits his teeth, feeling the warm liquid burst out from between his fingers, and hopes it’s not too late for a shift. It requires tons of energy and he is depleting by the minute. He groans out something illegible, maybe a curse, and that seems to settle the mind of his partner. The look on Peña’s face is grim but determined when he turns to yell at you again.

“Agent! Find us an empty house, now!”

You dig through the cabinets at the abandoned house, cursing inwardly when you only encounter dry dust and empty cans. It’s clear that this house has been empty for a while now, looted to the bare bones by people living close by.

It’s futile, but it gives you something to do while Javi gets Steve settled in the back room, away from the windows so he can rest and stem the bleeding until help arrives. It’s that or until you find something you can use to help your partner, the man you’ve fallen in love with, to survive until you can figure out a way to call for help.

Large boots clack against the cracked floor tiles and the shadow of one of your partners fills the chipped doorway. Tight jeans hug muscular thighs and there are one too many buttons open on Javier’s black shirt when he runs a tired hand across his face.

“Steve’s settled for now.” He sighs, obviously still feeling the aftereffects of the attack and no doubt blaming himself for it. He’s tired, angry, wired to the tightest string all at once. “Found anything? Booze, gauze, keys to a Corvette?”

You crack a wry smile before shaking your head for negative. He sighs again before leaning back against the wall, paint chipping and falling on his shoulder. Not that Javier notices it, his eyes are fixed somewhere in the horizon.

“How soon can we go out in search of help?” You ask, knowing full well all your phones are with your car, miles and miles away from where you are now. One of you would have to venture out in search of something, but it’s dangerous going at it alone.

“We stay here,” Javier grits out, and anger flares inside you. How can he expect you to do nothing when Steve is bleeding out in the next room?! You bang the cabinet door close a little too harshly and the cracked wood splinters with the force you give it. You pay it no mind, glaring daggers at the man. To his credit, Javi glares right back, not backing an inch.

“Listen to me Agent,” he finally voices out loud, the tense air growing thicker by the second. “Murphy knows what he’s doing, we just gotta give him the time.”

“What time?! Peña, he’s fucking bleeding out in there! We have to do something!”

“We are.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Javier steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder and searching your eyes until they are locked into his. There is something unknown in his gaze, but you recognize the compassion and the worry he also holds for his partner.

“We just gotta trust Steve on this, okay? He knows what he’s doing, this is his best shot…” he lets the words drift off and your eyebrows lift up in surprise.

“His best shot?” You question, the anger in your veins slowly cooling. Javier looks a bit uneasy, unsure how to respond. In the end, he just shrugs helplessly before rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it once he’s able, cariño,” the nickname slips from between his lips, and your own curl into a small smile. Maybe in another life, you and Javi might’ve been more than friends, but not when your heart calls for Steve. You both know it and relish the friendship between you that’s been forged in the fires of the Colombian drug war. He’s one of your closest friends and you, like Steve and Javier, would put your life on the line for these two men at any given moment.

You fall silent after that, standing in the crumbling kitchen while the hot sun blazes through the windows. It isn’t until a large, painful growl rips through the house that you find yourself running towards the back room, Javier hot on your heels.

Steve hopes Peña can keep you away, he doesn’t want you to see this. He’s begun the shift but it isn’t easy, the blood loss more severe than he calculated. He’s clinging to his final strength by his fingernails when he urges his lion to come forward faster.

It’s unpleasant on the best of days, but now it seems that his entire body is fighting the transformation from the man to the apex predator he is deep inside. But slowly he wills the lion to step up to the ladder; the gold of his hair has started to grow, spreading down his cheeks and neck, covering him in a mane large and thick that continues down his pectorals and stomach.

It’s the first moment when his bones start to elongate and expand that Steve can’t hold in the growl of pain any longer. He whips his head up, the mane ruffling around his head as he howls out, his chest doubling in size with his arms turning into legs and paws. It almost takes him out, making him pass out on the floor but he hangs onto his consciousness with bared teeth.

Steve can hear two sets of feet stomp down the hallway and he wishes he had the energy to crawl up and lock the door, but he doesn’t. He wills the transformation to go even faster, feeling the final step of his tailbone grow and crack but it’s too late. The door to the room opens and even through blurry eyes, Steve can see you stand in the doorway.

“Holy…” You whisper, rooted to the spot and it’s the first time Steve regrets not being able to talk in this form. He can only growl out his displeasure and sorrow at you seeing him like this.

A beast.

A monster.

An abomination.

A freak.

But you seem to have one final trick up your sleeve. Where many have run before after seeing the huge lion in the same room, with no barriers or safeguards in between, you step closer slowly. He watches silently as you enter the room and walk until you are beside him. Steve already feels better, his body and the beast working to replace the blood lost and cinching the torn skin back together, but the physical pain is only part of this. You hold his entire being in your hands and you have the ability to wreak far more havoc in him than any bullet could if this encounter goes south.

“Hey Steve,” you whisper before kneeling next to him. His hearing is better now so he can pick up the awe in your voice. Are you in awe of him, he wonders, confused. Why? What for? He’s used to fear, terror, and hate, not awe. If anyone is in awe, it’s him for you since you don’t seem to fear him at all. You are truly fearless and his heart grows in size. The fact that you are not shying away just cements his love for you.

You look at his form and the rapidly healing wound on his stomach, brows knitted before your face relaxes completely.

“I can’t believe it! I always thought werewolves were the only supernatural creatures,” you breathe out and hold your hand out to sink into his golden mane. He barely resists the urge to purr, the sensation of your fingers brushing his thick skin heavenly. “But I guess it makes sense. Huh. Never thought I’d see the day. You are a man of many layers, aren’t you Steve Murphy?” You grin and he returns the gesture, showing his large teeth. His action makes you giggle and his heart soars. “You are one adorable lion, that’s for sure.”

You turn contemplative after that. “Is this why you decided to get in between me and the bullet, your healing skills? Or is there more at play here?” You ask gently, searching his big eyes for confirmation. Your next words come out shy. “Are there warm feelings involved?”

He regrets that he cannot speak, cannot confirm what he feels but something in his gaze must say it to you without actually saying it because the beautiful smile that lights up the room tells him you understand him clearly. “Good. Because my feelings for you are definitely warm, Steve Murphy.”

Steve turns his massive head, nuzzling closer to you and pressing his paw gently on your knee. He can’t believe it! You seem to accept him as is, literal lion heart and all. And you return his feelings! He’s giddy with it and before he can talk himself out of anything, he jumps forward.

You oomph a little at the weight of a full-grown male lion suddenly trying to act like a house cat but wrap your arm around him, curling your finger deeper into his mane and this time he cannot stop the low growly purr leaving his chest. His head turns in pleasure when you keep scratching him at the right spot.

“We’ll talk after you’ve healed, okay? I can’t wait to hear all about this,” you mumble happily into his fur and Steve can feel your lips curl into a smile on his skin. “Just focus on getting better now. I need you in top shape, Murphy. I have plans for both of us.”

Your words send a rush of emotion coursing in his veins and Steve leans more into you until both of you topple to the ground. You burst out laughing and the lion seems to agree, nuzzling into your body while making sure its weight does not crush you. He bumps his head against your chin again, a scratchy tongue peeking out to slobber your cheek in a kiss and you giggle again.

“Keep it in your pants, Murphy. You can kiss properly later. There’s only so much I can handle while sober.”

Javier’s grumble from the doorway makes the lion lift its gaze up and you swear you can see the large cat giving him the trademark Murphy scowl for the interruption. It makes you laugh more and the dark-haired man shakes his head.

“I’m off to find us a car. Change back before then, I ain’t fitting a damn lion in the backseat.” With that, Javi is off but not before you spy a little soft smile on his lips. The grump seems to have a soft heart after all.

You turn to Steve and scratch him more behind his ear and you laugh out loud when it makes his back paw thump rhythmically on the ground. “You heard the man, Murphy.” You quip, pressing a quick kiss on his wet nose. “Change back quick once you are fully healed so we can have a proper first kiss.”

The big cat seems to agree, the glint in his large eye telling you he’d love nothing more than that.

Thank you for reading!

#narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy fanfiction #whump #cw: blood #cw: wounds #werecreature #werecreature au #steve murphy imagine #steve murphy x you

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a-tale-of-legends · 11 months

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So @epicspheal told me about this concept of trainers who have a type specialty often have some sort of supernatural sense regarding their type. Fairy types becoming more ethereal, grass types and their connection to nature on a deeper level than average, psychic and ghost type trainers having some sort of connection to the supernatural, even if that person doesn't exactly have powers say, etc etc

If I'm being honest, before tlh I would have thought " oh cool, but I don't think that'll fit in my universe" , but now? It seems perfect. I'm running into a problem where it seems that the Chosens are the only ones who can really do anything regarding TLH, or any type of threat that comes to the world. It makes a lot of very capable characters seem incapable. So why not give certain characters some abilities of their own? Obviously, even if a character doesn't have Chosen powers or any sort of type based ability, it doesn't render them not important. Barry doesn't but he's vital to the pla plotline and trying to understand legendary Pokemon more. But obviously with a threat as bad as TLH I feel like giving characters more options that just their pokemon would be great.

At the top of my head- Korrina is an aura user, so naturally she's more intune with her inner self- or at least learning to. But in terms of her fighting type specialty,I feel like her strength and stamina are above average. Her stamina and agility especially, since I personally don't see her to be able to break boulders like Bruno or Marshall.

Wallace ( and Misty) can hold their breath underwater for a longer time than average. Wallace can possibly kinda see through illusions? Or rather can sense them. Dunno how exactly that relates to water, but the whole illusion thing is, well, his thing.

Bede kinda has to deal with the whiplash of going from a psychic type specialist with a bit more awareness of his surroundings to a fairy type specialist who is more ethereal and knows Glimwood Tangle like the back of his hand even though he's only been through it a couple of times. Still has some of that psychic in him, I don't think it'll go away.

I'm debating on Leon having some sort of sensitivity to ghost types. On one end, he isn't a ghost type specialist, and is already a Chosen. On the other end, that ghost sensitivity might be interesting in regards to Eternatus, who in my au is literally a corpse repossessing its body.

My goal isn't to make all of these characters super over powered, or even really "powered" at all- they're still regular humans with their limits ( or whatever limits the pokemon world humans have if they can casually go up on an active volcano and not die immediately), and definitely not on pare with any Chosen ( cause you know. Literally got gifts from the gods) but to give them a bit more oomf, you know.

Also it makes sense that Arceus would create humans ( assuming they created humans too) to be more adaptive to the world of pokemon, less they would all have been wiped out a lot earlier in life.

#legendverse #r rambles

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trensu · 4 years

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You should totally write your werewolf AU with mermaids and I can continue doing dramatic slow burn sads and fandom will double benefit.

You are just full of great ideas!! Tbh, I’ve been tossing around ideas for the current wangxian werewolf au (mostly from LSZ’s perspective, like how does it feel for him to be the only human in a werewolf pack?) but i also love mermaids.

This a more lighthearted continuation of the original post that takes place not too long after LWJ finds out WWX is afraid of dogs.

–

It comes out when they’re camping.

Why are they camping? Because LWJ is a sucker who goes weak in the knees whenever WWX bats his eyelashes at him, that’s why. LWJ had started pulling away, putting some time and distance between them, but then WWX asked him if they were still going on the camping trip we hardly get to see each other any more, he pouted. LWJ caved like–like–like a thing that caves very easily. LWJ doesn’t know, okay? He can’t think when WWX looks at him like that.

In his defense, when they originally planned the trip, LWJ was certain his family secret wouldn’t have been a secret to WWX anymore and he was going to take the opportunity to show off demonstrate, demonstrate his wolfy prowess.

But no, that can never happen now, can it?

So here they are. Camping. Well, hiking currently with the intentions of setting up camp. Somewhere. And there are mosquitoes everywhere. And LWJ cannot put on his wolf-skin. LWJ is not having a good time. The outdoors are much more fun when he’s furry and on all fours. How do humans tolerate this? he wonders as he watches WWX practically skipping up ahead, absolutely reeking of mosquito repellent. It’s disgusting. LWJ misses WWX’s natural scent.

“Lan Zhan, look! There’s a cave up ahead!!” WWX exclaimed. “We should go explore it. Maybe it has bats. Bats are so cute, don’t you think? I love their little faces and how they squeak!”

Cute?! Bats have rabies, which kills humans because humans are fragile, and WWX is very very human. But no, there he goes bounding ahead without a care in the world. If LWJ were not a werewolf, he’s sure he’d have succumbed to a stress-induced heart attack by now.

“Wei Ying, be cautious!” LWJ tells him and grits his teeth when WWX laughs it off.

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy, Lan Zhan. Where’s your sense of adventure?” he twirls around to aim a sunny grin at him. LWJ’s breath catches even as warmth pools in his chest. This is why he’s here, enduring the mosquitoes and smelly repellent and possibly rabid bats. Because he would do anything to keep that smile on WWX’s face.

The corner of his lips tick upward for a hint of a smile, but it seems WWX notices it anyway because his own smile grows wider. He runs back to LWJ and grabs him by the arm. He proceeds to all but drag LWJ into the cave.

“Come on, hurry up. You’re so slow,” WWX shoots him a teasing look. “Is it because your legs are shorter than mine?”

LWJ gives him a flat look and refuses to answer. WWX’s laugh rings and echoes in the cave. They slow to a more leisurely pace as they explore. The cool air in the cave is a welcome change after hiking in the sun for what felt like hours. After awhile, WWX huffs and lets himself fall to the ground dramatically.

“There’s not a bat in sight. What kind of cave doesn’t have bats in it?” he pouts.

LWJ lowers himself much more gracefully to sit next to him. The moment he does so, WWX scoots up close to him and leans his head on his shoulder with a dramatic whimper.

“I’m so disappointed. Distraught! I cannot go on,” WWX says, pressing even closer. LWJ catches a whiff of his scent under the fading smell of the repellent. “Let’s take a break here, Lan Zhan, so I can mend my broken heart.”

“Mn,” LWJ agrees mostly because he’s enjoying having WWX close. Catching his scent was dizzying in the best way.

As they sit there against the cool cave wall, LWJ feels WWX’s body slowly relax. His breath starts to slow. In a sleepy tone, he mutters into LWJ’s shoulder, “I’m glad we’re here. I’ve missed you.”

LWJ’s response (I’ve missed you too, I love you, please never leave me) sticks to the back of his teeth and refuses to come out. By the time he manages to hum in agreement, WWX had dozed off, his body limp and trusting against him.

LWJ allows himself to press his nose against the crown of WWX’s head and breathe in deep. Just for a moment, just this one time…

–

LWJ wakes to the sound of WWX hissing his name.

“Lan Zhan, wake up. There’s something in here.”

LWJ blinks his eyes open and sees WWX’s worried expression.

“I don’t know what it is but it sounds big. We need to get out,” WWX continues to whisper. LWJ smoothly goes into a crouch and motions at WWX to stay quiet. He cocks his head slightly towards where the shuffling, scraping sound was coming from.

This was not how LWJ wanted his day to go. First mosquitoes, which are absolutely awful, and now this? Gripping WWX’s hand, he starts to slowly guide them towards the entrance of the cave. Unfortunately they did not get too far before WWX stepped on something that made a loud crunch. They look down.

“Bones? Bones? How did we miss that before?” WWX whispered somewhat hysterically, but it was mostly drowned out by a snarl coming from somewhere behind them and way too close. Immediately, LWJ shoves WWX down the path that would lead to the mouth of the cave. He hears WWX stumble behind him but his eyes are locked on a great lumbering creature shuffling towards them from deeper within the cave.

“What the fuck is that thing?!?”

“Wei Ying.”

“I wanted to see bats. This the opposite of bats. It looks like a mutated bear, why is there a mutated bear–”

The creature – a yaoguai, possibly, LWJ thinks – meets his eyes. LWJ takes a calculated risk and flashes his gold eyes at it. Most creatures back down in the presence of a werewolf, so it’s possible they could entirely avoid a confrontation. The creature lets out a roar that leaves his ears ringing.

Well. That didn’t work. But he could still distract it. He could still keep it occupied so WWX could get away safely. He’s taken down big creatures before when they trespassed GusuLan territory.

“Wei Ying, run.”

“Yes, yes, we have to run. Why are you just standing there?!”

LWJ opened his mouth to respond, to entreat WWX to go on ahead and to trust him on this, but the creature was now running towards them and there was no time. Which was okay, really, because that meant he couldn’t dwell on the fact that this was probably the last time WWX will ever want to be near him.

Between one breath and the next, LWJ slipped into his fur and launched himself at the creature.

LWJ all but collapses on his side, great heaving pants whistling past his fangs. Whatever that creature was, it had tasted awful. His injuries were starting to stitch together, but that did nothing to remove the grime from his usually pristine white coat. His ears twitch back, catching the sound of someone shifting behind him. His tail wagged weakly when he realized who it was.

Wei Ying, Wei Ying is here!

But Wei Ying is scared of dogs

LWJ curled in on himself with a soft whine. Before he could get too distressed (emotions were simpler in his wolf form but they also felt much much bigger), WWX appeared in front of him. WWX was crouched in front of him and his hands were smoothing down the scruff of his neck, checking for injuries.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, that was terrifying and so cool, and I’m grateful you saved my life,” WWX let out a put-upon sigh. His hands were now rubbing down his side. “But, you just lost me so much money. I’m poor, Lan Zhan! I can’t afford to lose money!”

LWJ blinked at him. WWX liked to ramble but usually LWJ can follow his train of thought. This? This made no sense...on the other hand, he did get walloped on the head a bit during that fight. WWX must have sensed his confusion somehow.

“I thought you were fey!!” WWX exclaimed. “You were just too pretty to be human, you know? Like Xiao Xingchen. He’s beautiful and he’s fey.”

LWJ squashed down the urge to immediately go hunt down this XXC person and tear into him. The adrenaline was addling his mind, obviously, since such thoughts of violence are unbecoming of GusuLan wolves. Wait, did WWX just call him pretty...?

“But Jiang Cheng said you weren’t that good looking! I couldn’t let him slander you like that! I had to defend your honor!! So I bet him you were fey and now I owe him a ton of money,” as WWX rambled, his hands wander, aimless now that he’d seen all the wounds had healed. They brush against his belly and his tail wags involuntarily.

WWX definitely notices, if the devious grin was anything to go by. Suddenly LWJ was getting the belly rub of his life. His tail wagged frenetically because everything was perfect. LWJ just took down a huge kill in front of WWX and he was impressed, and now WWX was laughing and petting him.

“Wow, you’re much more expressive as a wolf than in your human skin.”

And there popped his happy bubble. LWJ scrambled onto all fours and skittered away because WWX is scared of dogs, WWX will hate him. LWJ switched out of his wolf-skin so fast it nearly gave him whiplash.

WWX frowned. “Is it safe for you to change back so soon? Your wounds just barely finished healing.”

LWJ was confused. “You’re...not scared?”

“The bear-thing’s dead, what’s there to be scared of?” WWX’s brow was furrowed in the most adorable way. LWJ shook away the thought. He can’t get distracted. He had to focus and use his words, as LXC was constantly reminding him.

“...dogs?”

With a yelp, LWJ suddenly had a scared WWX clutching the back of his shirt.

“There’s a dog?? WHERE? Lan Zhan, scare it away!!”

LWJ shook his head. Words, words, he needed to use words. Why was communication so much harder in human form?

“No dogs. Me.”

WWX’s frantic grasping stilled before flipping LWJ around to face him. He looked furious.

“Lan Zhan, who called you a dog? I will beat them up right now. You’re not a dog, Lan Zhan. Dogs are mindless mean animals that bite for no reason. Werewolves are people.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence as LWJ absorbs the impact of WWX’s words. Relief courses through him as he realizes that WWX is not afraid of him. Not one bit. Werewolves are people. He knew he could trust WWX with his secret.

Then he processes the rest of the conversation and frowns.

“Wei Ying, how do you know about the fey? And werewolves?” It didn’t make sense. Humans don’t know about these things. And their senses are not sharp enough to perceive most of their kind. WWX gives him an odd look.

“Lan Zhan, I was adopted by the Jiang family.”

LWJ blinks. He knows this already. What did that have to do with anything?

“...you know the Jiangs are merfolk, right?”

No, LWJ did not know that.

“You didn’t catch the fish smell? Nie Huaisang says my siblings smell like fish all the time. How did you miss that?” WWX laughs. LWJ felt his ears go warm.

“I was distracted.”

“By what? Nie Huaisang made it sound like it’s completely overpowering!”

“Your scent.”

“Aww, Lan Zhan, are you saying I smell better than fish? You flatterer,” WWX laughs again.

Like his scent is a joke. Like barely rates higher than fish when his scent is all LWJ can think about some days. Well, that’s enough of that. LWJ has had a long, stressful day full of mosquitoes, monster fights, and world-breaking revelations, and even he has his limits.

LWJ grasps the back of WWX’s neck and brings him in close. LWJ’s nose trails along WWX’s neck, taking a lungful of that wonderful, delicious scent. As he breathes in, he smells a thread of arousal seeping into WWX’s scent.

“Lan Zhan,” WWX squeaks. LWJ can hear his heart quicken.

“Wei Ying smells better than fish,” he responds, thrilling as his lips just barely brush against WWX’s racing pulse-point. He feels and hears WWX’s gasp. He brushes his face along the crook of WWX’s neck once more before taking a full step back.

He takes a moment to admire WWX’s stunned, dreamy expression before turning on his heel and marching out of the cave. He’s had a long day and his restraint is in tatters (at least i didn’t lick him, he thinks guiltily as his actions catch up to him, that counts for something, doesn’t it?). He needed a nap or drink of water or something.

Behind him, WWX snaps out of his daze.

“W-Wait, what does that mean? I don’t smell like fish? Lan Zhan, wait for me! What do I smell like? LAN ZHAN.”

Huh.

It was kind of nice having WWX chase after him for a change.

#wangxian werewolf au #trensu replies #thewickling #i'm actually quite fond of the turn the original post took #i can't stop thinking about it #do you mind if i make snippets of it in the future?#i know you're doing your own thing with it #and i love it so much #so i want to make sure i'm not stepping on any toes here #anyway #in this au of the au (lol) wwx is half mermaid on his father's side #he took after his human mother tho #the only supernatural thing about him is that he can hold his breath underwater an eerily long time #all the other kids on the swim team in school are slightly freaked out about it #trensu tells stories

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haepii · 2 years

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Limerence | PJS (06)

(n.) the state of being infatuated or obsessed with someone.

Pairing: Park Jisung + ReaderGenre: Werewolf!AU, Supernatural!AU, series

Series: Neo Culture Pack Series Masterlist, previous part, next part

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Mentions/Use of Weapons (I.e., swords, daggers, knives), Mentions of Blood, Murder, Animal Death/Murder, Werewolves (if you don't like it, leave), Mentions of bones cracking/breaking, Mentions of witches/witchcraft, mentions of vampires/fae, mentions of werewolves (duh), Jealous/Controlling Behavious (I do not condone these behaviours in real life, but obviously this work is pure fiction and so are the characters in it even if they are based off real people), Mentions of terminal illness (a brief mention and flashbacks, it can be rather confronting and I have experienced the facing of this situation myself. I know how confronting and triggering it is, so please do not put your own mental health at sake for reading this fanfic).

Taglist: @peepsibo @seajae @thesunsfullmoon

WC: 3.2k

"Just drive, Taeyong! Don't focus on anything else right now, we need to get her to Taeil."

You felt as if you were underwater, tears flowing endlessly from your eyes as the words Areum spoke were echoing your brain. You couldn't understand her though, physically not being able to process the words she was uttering as you clung onto every shred of consciousness you could. You were drowning in the dull ache of the blade hilt-deep in your stomach. Areum held you on her lap, occasionally she would try to coax you to open your eyes, or keep your eyes open, to breath, or to keep your heart beating. Yet those efforts were in vain, as the only thing you could think of was him. Where was he?

The only thing you could hear clearly was the strained and distressed howls at the night sky, as the car sped around the winding roads. You had not cared to think of anything else but the winding roads, the pain, and the howls. Everything else was irrelevant in your shreds of consciousness.

"Breathe, (Y/N)... please, just... keep your eyes open. Stay with us."

She coaxed, holding your cheeks in her hands, as she refrained from looking down at your torso, only at your pale, tired, and tear-stained face. Soon, the car came to a jolting stop, you breathing shook as the back seat door was slammed open.

Nothing else seemed to register with the exception of the blur of faces, and now the clearness of words. Not because they were directed to you, but because they were about him.

"What in the goddess' graces?" Nayeon breathed, running out of the pack house in a silken night robe and slippers, with Taeil by her side, already dressed in his medical scrubs, with a medical stretcher on wheels right to the door of the car.

Following closely behind them was the Beta and Beta female, Kun and Chaeyoung. The woman looks to Taeyong worried, who seemed to have a more iron-clad appearance than the other four pack members. Chaeyoung questioned, worry ebbing at her voice. "Where's Jisung?"

"He ran off upon seeing the attack."

Chaeyoung gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Gaping at her leader before her, who seemed to pay no mind to the Areum, as she was now clinging to her as you were being wheeled by Taeil and Nayeon to the infirmary. "We need to find him, Taeyong... we can't just... he's just a kid."

"He's a newly titled delta, not a child, Chaerin. He'll find his way back fine."

"He must be terrified."

"He needs to calm down."

"He needs his family."

Kun steps in between the two, before they rip each other to threads. The beta female glaring at her husband with much disdain before looking back at Areum, who was now kneeling in the ground, caving in on herself in distress. Kun speaks in his calming voice, with the more rational answer for both Chaeyoung and Taeyong. "I think we can all agree he needs his mate to be alive when he returns, does he not?"

"You're right, my love..."

Chaeyoung mumbles, moving past her husband, and to Areum, who had tears falling down her cheeks. Walking hand-in-hand with Areum up the driveway to the pack house, the two women walk in silence, seeing both Taeyong and Kun phase into their wolf forms and run towards the tree line.

When Chaeyoung had finally managed to get Areum into the pack house, you had long been in the infirmary, with Taeil locking everyone with the exception of Nayeon, his mate and the only other healer in the pack, out of the infirmary. Areum had refused to move from the uncomfortable armchairs outside the infirmary, her knees tucked to her chest.

Rushing from the room, blood on her scrubs, Nayeon walked hastily down the hall, passing Areum's chair before the much younger girl flails herself in front of her. Areum's voice was broken and raspy, weak, in a way that Nayeon could not help but feel the pain Areum felt for you as well. "Will she be alright?"

Nayeon looked to her, wanting nothing but to hug the girl, but when she saw the look in her superior's eyes, she knew she had to be formal. Instead, she opted to clear her throat, and put on her best professional, yet caring voice as she spoke to Areum. "She is stable for her condition... but her long term stability s not able to be determined at this time."

"When... will we know of her condition?"

"I am afraid we will not know for a few more hours."

"When will I be able to see her?"

"In a few hours, I promise."

The wait was torture for Areum, who knew you as the girl who was her younger sister's best friend, and in turn, her second sister for as long as she could think to remember. She could only imagine how Jisung was feeling, knowing how extreme the bond between mates could be, Taeyong and herself being a prime example. Knowing how she felt the pain when we was gone, or how her eyes always flitted to him when he was in the room. She couldn't even imagine how it must feel for Jisung, who could feel the bond stronger because he was born a werewolf.

In the hours that followed, Areum did not move. Chaeyoung looked at her, a frown on the elder's face. It wasn't until Taeil walked out of the infirmary that the pair of the rushed forwards. Areum looked almost desperate as Taeil gave her a slow nod. "She's stable, you can go sit with her if you'd like."

It was clear that the young girl didn't need to be told twice, pushing past Taeil and into the infirmary. Areum paused slightly, at a curtained off bed towards the end of the infirmary in the corner. Peeling back the curtain, Areum had released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. You looked... peaceful, save for the oxygen mask that clouded up with your steady breaths, and the loud beeping of the heart monitor, clipped onto your finger.

Areum's eyes flitted around the small bay, with the large leather chair by your bed, and the large window beside it providing full view of the driveway. Sitting down, Areum took your hand, that was hooked up to a saline bag from the vein on the back of your hand. It was only when she'd realised you'd be okay that she thought of Ryujin.

Where was Ryujin? Was she safe? All these questions unearthed new worries within her, and new things she'd come to realise that she couldn't afford to lose. Ryujin was her sister, and she, despite being the main source of her sister's suffering at the hands of their mother, could not imagine a life without her little sister.

"Did your mother really say that?" Taegwang gawked at the girl before him, mascara smeared down her cheeks, a pint of ice-cream in her hand with a spoon in her mouth. It was no wonder she had run from the family dinner of the year.

"Everyone was thinking it." She muttered, knowing deep down they were all right about her aspirations of going to fashion school. It was only a matter of time until she had to grow out of her childish ambitions.

"I wasn't." He looked almost offended.

"Well... (Y/N) was." She snapped at him, knowing you were always too good for them, too perfect and too... mainstream. In that moment, Taegwang did not see Ryujin upset about her mother's disapproval, but upset about your's. Not because you didn't want her to succeed, but because you didn't want to see her fail.

He found an opportunity... to change the subject, to feed his own agenda. When he let her in, after all, he didn't think he could take Neo Culture's very own... until they walked right into his midst. A betrayal of the highest order. "I don't disagree, because (Y/N) is like that... but, speaking of (Y/N), what do you thing of Jisung?"

"He's weird. I always feel like I have to walk on eggshells with (Y/N) whenever he's nearby."

"In what way?"

"It feels like there's these... lines that I am not good enough to cross when he's there." Ryujin remembered the feelings of intense disdain from Jisung, whenever she'd turn to speak to you in biology, or how whenever she sat with you at lunch she felt the need to leave instantly. Like you were too good to be her friend, like the guilt of being a pain to you ebbed at her whenever she even looked at you.

"Yeah..."

"It feels like he has some claim over her and that she is above everyone, too good for the world."

"Have you ever thought about him not being human?"

"We joked about it." Ryujin chuckled, remembering the night on the swings fondly, as it was the first time she felt free to be near you. "His eyes glow yellow when he looks at her for too long."

For a moment, her eyes flickered from her ice-cream, to the boy sitting on the far side of the couch. His expression was pensive, the realisation on his face as clear as day. Ryujin had just betrayed her own sister, her own best friend and didn't even notice.

She frowned at him."You seem a little too serious, Taegwang."

"Because he's not human."

"Then... what is he?"

"You know."

"How do you know?" Ryujin stood up, and went to grab her bag, feeling his hand gripping her wrist with an inhuman strength that held her in place. His face held a darker expression and before he'd even answered, it was as if she'd already known, but wanted to prolong her ignorant bliss of the harsh truth.

"Whoever said I was human?"

From the living room, the sound of voices and footsteps could be heard, Taegwang's expression turned from dark and serious to a more lighthearted expression as Chaerin and Seulgi stood at the entrance to the door.

Ryujin almost sighed in relief until she saw their triumphant expressions, as Chaerin smiled at her boyfriend. "I told you so."

"Chaerin... what's happening?"

It was a steady silence that fell over the room, as Seulgi was the only one not delighted at the outcome, merely scowling at Ryujin. "We'll need to keep it in the second guest room as long as it doesn't make too much noise. I need my beauty sleep."

Chaerin turned to Ryujin with a smile. "Don't worry about it, just know that we're winning."

The house, shrouded in the forest covered mountains, filled with 21 bustling boys, and 4 women who had grown love for them had now fallen uncharacteristically grim. Even Haechan, the sunshine of the house failed to lighten the mood as the tense atmosphere shrouded the house.

"Shouldn't we be looking for Jisung?" Eunbi stops pacing abruptly, as she frets over her mate, Johnny. She had been unable to sit still for more than a few minutes, that the boys who had been closest to her, Jaehyun and Yuta looked at her almost as worried as Johnny would've been if he were present.

"Taeyong is looking for him with Kun and Johnny. They have been sent to check up on Ryujin as well, to see if she is safe." Chaeyoung speaks up, the strength of leadership in her voice from the years of being considered the alpha female of the pack, even as a beta female. From the moment she'd stepped foot in the house ten years prior, she'd been their Luna, even if she was not Taeyong's mate, but instead their Beta female. It was a role she'd so kindly pass onto Areum when the much younger girl was ready.

"Isn't Ryujin friends with..." Jaemin, Chaeyoung's cousin spoke up from beside his brother, anger filled him so much at the mere thought of their fellow supernatural neighbours that he could hardly finish his sentence. He had a clear disdain for them, more so than his pack mates, who by default already disliked them, as werewolves and Dominyens, better known as 'slayers', never did get along. Chaeyoung supposed that the young Alpha twins had the right to hate them so, given where they'd come from.

"So is (Y/N), yet we don't hesitate to embrace her." Renjun quips from beside Chenle and Sicheng, the other Chinese members of the pack, beside the other 4 Chinese members who were doing boarder patrol, and Kun who was assisting Taeyong.

"That's different." Jaemin says, almost adamantly, refusing to believe that a human girl could see any redeeming qualities in a slayer.

"It shouldn't be." Chaeyoung spoke up from where she stood, her hand over her growing bump, not dissimilar to Nayeon's, as she looked impatiently at the front door. Worry had ebbed at her from the moment Kun had left, nor did her hormones help her in any way. She longed for her husband's return. "Ryujin is one of us just the same, if not in a different way, through being Areum's sister or (Y/N)'s friend."

"You've never been one to concern yourself with the lives of humans, cousin."

"You've never been one to not hunt Dominyens for sport, but here we are Jaemin."

"I would've slaughtered them a long time ago had it not been for the treaty."

"You and Jeno, technically don't have to follow the treaty." Chaeyoung snapped, appalled at her cousin's words, and how he could so carelessly say such a thing about other's, especially the supernatural.

Being the minority on earth, the supernatural had to be in places of power to survive, the top 1% of the world; monarchies, politicians, governments, and of course, land-owners. They, the supernatural, had their own council, designed to keep the peace and ensure their survival and power. Yet, there were still species who would naturally have rivalries; Fae and Witches or Warlocks, Vampires and well... everyone else, Angels and Demons, Sirens and Banshees, and lastly, Werewolves and Dominyens (slayers) being the most notable. All of their species making up the humanoid aspect of the council, and of course, meaning they were in power. The non-human creatures were all governed under the council, and it was peaceful.

The council, the centuries of intricate work it took for the supernatural to have power over the mortals was enough for Chaeyoung to respect Dominyens to an extent, that being, respecting their clans and treaties. She felt shame to know Jaemin did not hold the same sentiment about the matter, given she had raised him and Jeno to respect all supernatural creatures, as their races would go nowhere without unity between the council. What seemed like an off-handed comment to the others, was more of a vow to Chaeyoung.

She knew him, as her cousin and as an Alpha without a pack to lead at the hands of Dominyens. Being a born Alphas, the twins, Jaemin and Jeno were not fully-fledged members of the pack, as they could never fully submit to Taeyong's leadership, but in turn, respect it but still have the free will to break away from his orders. They were their own governors and agencies, they didn't need Taeyong.

"We choose to, no matter how much I disagree with it." Jaemin snaps at his cousin, not caring whether she looked almost sickened at his words.

After all, she did have a reason to hate their kind the same as him, but she had it in her heart to move on because she had Kun. However, Jaemin had grown up on the sentiment that his mother, father, and pack all died at the hands of Dominyens. He had grown up harbouring an insatiable blood-thirst and hate for Dominyens more so than any other Alpha Chaeyoung had met.

"Well, now the treaty has been broken, but not by our hands. You are free to do as you please, Jaemin." The door opened, Eunbi immediately stopped pacing and nervously fiddling with her pearl and aquamarine wedding rings, her eyes flickering to Johnny as Taeyong walked into the room cooly. it was clear he had found things he did not like, and the thick air of betrayal followed him into the pack house. Everyone was put on edge with the exception of the newlyweds, Johnny and Eunbi who were restraining themselves from running across the room to reunite with each other.

"John..." Giddily, the youngest of the married mates ran over to the Gamma. A Gamma was a high-ranking warrior and protector of the pack, if Kun was to be harmed or killed, Johnny would take his place, unless Renjun had decided to take over the role.

"Eunbi." He murmured into her hair, knowing how worried she'd gotten after she'd seen the aftermath of the Dominyen clan's attack on Jisung's mate. If anything, she was just relieved Johnny was back, safe and sound. The two of them collided into the other's arms, forming into one almost as if neither of them would ever want to leave, and they'd stay in the other's arms until their dying breath.

"I take it Jisung is still–" Chaeyoung spoke up, before she was cut off mid sentence by a defeated voice, now the youngest pack member looked more defeated than angered. In a way, he was calm. "I'm here."

Chaeyoung looked to Jisung, and then followed his eyes to where Eunbi and Johnny were having their reunion, bound together in a tight embrace, that left no sign of ending anytime soon. Chaeyoung sighed apprehensively at the pair, before voicing her own priorities.

"Where's Kun?"

"Doing further investigation on the Dominyens." Taeyong answered offhandedly, as if Kun's life wasn't in immediate danger at his position near the Dominyen clan. Selfishly, Chaeyoung had wished Johnny was the one to have stayed as he had the least to lose, Eunbi was young, chose to be mortal and could evantually grow to accept his death. Chaeyoung, on the other hand, would become a shell of her former self and die because Kun had died and would never return.

"Where's (Y/N)?" Jisung asked, everyone now tense as Taeil gestured for the younger to follow him, leaving Nayeon sitting beside Haechan, as the elder walked the younger into the infirmary.

Seeing Johnny and Eunbi had made Jisung want to be all the more closer to you. He never wanted to leave you, only to hold you and love you until death finally overtook him. He wanted to be near you, to hear your laugh, see your smile, feel your eyes on him when he enters a room, hear your thoughts through the bond, and just to have you by his side. No one could ever keep him away from you, just as no one could keep Johnny from Eunbi, or Kun from Chaeyoung, or Taeil from Nayeon, or even Taeyong from Areum. Someday he wanted you to love him as much as Eunbi loved Johnny, and he wanted to love you as much as Johnny loved Eunbi. It was all he ever wanted or needed.

Without a second thought, he was walking two steps ahead of Taeil, and had failed to notice Taeyong following hot on his trail. He could only think of you. When he finally peeled back the curtain to reveal your unconscious form, lying on the bed, with your left hand tightly clasped by Areum, oxygen mask on your face, and the steady beeps of your heart monitor... he couldn't help but sigh in relief. You were alive, and Taeil had saved you.

You were safe. That is more than he could ever ask for. He found himself inching closer to where you were, finding himself sitting all-too-easily into the leather armchair beside your bed. It felt right, and natural. Despite not knowing it himself, by the way he clasped onto your hand, and looked at you, Taeyong knew.

It would be easier to move mountains than to take you away from the young boy, and the elder supposed he knew the feeling all too well.

©️ @haepii 2022

#nct-writers #nct dream #nct fluff #nct u #nct127 #nct haechan #nct dream angst #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct soft hours #nct imagines #nct supernatural au #nct scenarios #nct series #nct oneshots #nct jisung #nct chenle #nct renjun

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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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javier-pena · 3 years

Text

reverberate

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: Explicit (yes, that does mean no minors)

Summary: Javi shows you a secret spot.

Warnings: skinny-dipping | fingering | dirty talk | semi-public sex | daddy kink

Notes: This is part of @autumnleaves1991-blog’s Writer Wednesday, which means I wrote it in two hours and Dani didn’t beta it, which means it’s full of impossibly long sentences and a lot of embarrassing typos. This is also my first time participating in Writer Wednesday and I had so much fun, I will definitely be doing it again in future!

***

Javi likes to surprise you. He likes to pick an outfit for you, to pack your bag for you, to tell you what shoes to bring, and you never know where you’re going to end up. He took you to Paris once and you had no idea where you were going until you spotted the Eiffel Tower from the plane. Another time, he took you to a nice, secluded restaurant in the mountains from where you watched the sunset together while you shared a bottle of the best wine you’ve ever had.

Today, he picks a light sundress for you, then sails his yacht to a part of the island you’ve never been to. From the sea, you can see mansions and private beaches, but it all has a run-down look to it, and once you come past abandoned shipwrecks you begin to feel uneasy. But then he anchors the yacht and leads you up the cliffs to an old, abandoned house that – he tells you – used to be a luxury hotel.

“Are you planning on buying it?” you tease him.

But he only smiles at you mysteriously.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you further inside the ruins that are overgrown with heavy, green trailing plants. He tells you to watch your step but guides you safely around the building as if this isn’t his first time here. You only stop once to gape at a chandelier twice your size lying on its side in the grand ballroom, as Javi calls it.

But your destination lies in a courtyard in the middle of the complex. It’s hidden from all sides by walls, empty windows gazing down at the two of you, as Javi puts down the heavy bag and makes a sweeping gesture. “We’re here,” he announces.

Your eyes immediately fixate on the pool that takes up most of the courtyard. The light blue color of its water is inviting after the hot climb up the cliffs. Javi follows your gaze.

“Go on then,” he says. “It’s why we’re here.”

You ask him to hand you a swimsuit from the bag he’s brought, but he only shrugs. “I’m sorry, baby, I think I forgot to bring one for you.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes as he says it, and you’re only too happy to accept it. You pull your dress over your head, unclasp your bra, and pull down your panties until you’re completely naked. He takes a step towards you, his mouth slightly open, but before he can say something or touch you, you take off and jump into the cool water with a loud splash that echoes around the abandoned hotel. You keep your head underwater for a while, enjoying the quietness, and when you come back up, Javi is there in front of you, his wet curls clinging to his forehead, as he runs a hand over his face to get the water out of his eyes.

He’s also naked.

“They say these ruins are haunted, you know,” he teases, a smirk on his face, as he swims towards you, his strong arms and broad shoulders cutting through the water as if it was air.

“Haha,” you reply dryly, kicking the water much less gracefully to move away from him.

“Not by ghosts,” he moves on. “This isn’t a cold, English marsh. I’m talking about mermaids, temptresses that lure men to their deaths with beautiful faces and beautiful songs.”

He drives you towards the edge of the pool until your back connects with the cold, hard stone. While you’re still trying to decide whether to go left or right, he already has you trapped with his arms caging you in, gripping the edge while pushing you even further towards the stone digging into your back. You lower your feet to discover that the water is shallow enough to stand, so you try to find a firm stance on the slippery floor.

“If you’re very quiet, you can hear their songs,” he whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your wet skin.

“Javi, stop it,” you giggle and try to push him away.

“Are you scared?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Why should I be?” you challenge with a toss of your head. “I have you to protect me.”

“No,” Javi answers, pretending to be thinking about it while he moves even closer to you, until you can feel his naked body press up against yours. “I’m a man. They’re after me. If anything, I need you to protect me.”

“Would you fall that easily for another woman’s charms?” you tease.

“They are supernatural beings,” he explains. “I couldn’t be expected to resist them.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “And I could?”

“Well, I’m a great catch,” he answers with a shrug.

You swat his arm playfully. “Don’t overdo it,” you tell him sternly.

His expression changes then. His smile falters, his cheeks hollow, the vein on his throat, the one you love to kiss while he’s above you, pushing into you over and over, bulges dangerously. There is lightning in his eyes as they darken, as the muscles in his arms tense from gripping the stone behind you. Then the full weight of his body presses against you, solid and hard and strong. You try to draw back, you try to escape, and then his hand closes around the nape of your neck.

“Don’t I always take care of you?” he asks. “Don’t I make sure you have everything you need?

“You do,” you reply, trying to nod, but his grip is too tight.

“Don’t I buy you nice things? Don’t I take you out whenever you ask me to?”

“You do,” you repeat, squirming in his grip.

“Say it then,” he demands, his grip tightening.

“Yes.” Your eagerness loses some of its meaning when it’s just this word hanging in the air between you. “Whatever you want me to say, Javi.”

You feel something tickle your leg and it takes you a few moments to figure out what it is. Everything feels different in the water, slower, softer, like moving in slow motion through cotton candy. But there is no doubt about what he’s doing when he grips one of your legs and pulls, pulls until there is room for his strong hand, his thick fingers, and he buries two of them inside of you.

You let out a hoarse moan, one that echoes around the ruin, amplified by the old walls. Your arms shoot out of the water to grip the edge of the pool at the same time as your legs loop around Javi’s torso.

“Look at you,” he says, curling his fingers upwards, stroking that one spot inside of you until you tighten around him. “Always so eager.”

He lets go of the back of your neck and your head falls back immediately, your eyes wide open. There is a blue, cloudless sky above you, seagulls flying overhead, chasing each other, but you don’t see them, you don’t see anything, you just feel, feel Javi pulling his fingers out of you slowly, pushing them back in, pulling them out again, once, twice, three times, until your legs are shaking.

“So, tell me,” he says in a casual tone of voice as if this is a business negotiation, “tell me what I want to hear.

“God, you’re amazing, Javi,” you pant, his name followed by a hiss as his thumb brushes against your clit.

“I think you can do better,” he says thoughtfully, considering your face with mild interest.

You lift your head so you can look at him, watch him run his free hand through his wet curls before it comes to rest against your hip, brushing small circles against your wet skin.

“You’re always so good to me,” you go on, pushing up your hips, but he removes his thumb from your clit.

Before you can protest, there’s a third finger inside of you, and this time you scream, a roar that reverberates around you and scares away two birds on the roof of the ruin who take off with an angry flutter of wings.

“You’re always so tight, baby,” he observes with a grunt. “Always thinking about my cock inside of you, aren’t you?”

You don’t have to reply. At his words, you tighten around him again involuntarily, imagining what it would be like to have him inside you right now, what it would be like to have your chest shoved up against the stony side of the pool, what it would be like for his hand on your neck, your back, your hip, holding you in place, while he fucks you, the only sounds your breathy, desperate moans and the steady sloshing of the water. Your eyes close at this image, at imagining how full you’d feel, how stretched, and suddenly you feel it, the familiar tingling in your lower belly.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

His fingers are gone as suddenly as he pushed them inside in the first place, and you let out an embarrassing, frantic sob. But you compose yourself fast enough with a steadying breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, licking your lips. “Yes, I always think about your cock inside of me.” You move your hips under the water, move them closer to his middle until you can feel it, feel how hard he is. A roll of your hips elicits a delicious grunt from him, a repetition of the movement a low growl. “Do you want to put it inside of me, daddy?”

He stills your hips with an unrelenting grip before his fingers are back inside of you, stretching you open, stroking against a spot you can never reach when you do this yourself, when you try to pretend your fingers are his.

“Later, baby girl,” he says, his voice sweet like honey. “Let me take care of you first, okay?”

You nod eagerly, then let your head fall back again, closing your eyes. He sets a punishing pace now, one that makes you dig your heels into his back, one that turns your knuckles white from gripping the stone. Then his thumb brushes your clit again, lightly at first, but then with a sense of purpose, as he rolls the bundle of nerves under his digit until it is almost too much, until you’re almost too overstimulated to come.

“Hey,” you hear his soft voice through your hot, red, lustful haze. “Let daddy see your pretty eyes.”

You couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to, you want him to see you come undone and have him know that it’s because of him, because he does always take care of you, because he does always make sure you have everything you need, because he does always give you whatever you want. Your eyes fly open, and you see him towering above you, a concentrated crease between his eyes, his eyes that are full of love and affection and devotion, and it’s all you need.

You come with a gasp that rips its way out of your chest as suddenly and unexpectedly as your climax rips through you. It turns into a moan, a wailing sound, as wave upon wave of deep, hot pleasure shoots through you. Javi doesn’t stop, not for one second, his fingers reaching deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust, until you stop twitching in his grip. Then he removes them carefully and helps you untangle yourself from his body.

He holds you upright as he kisses you, your face, your neck, your shoulders, your temple, and then he softly cups your face with both hands and says, “There is no prettier sight in this world than you coming for me, baby girl.”

You feel your face grow hot. “Shut up,” you tell him with an airy laugh.

“I mean it.” He kisses your lips softly, once, then with more force, until you open up and let his tongue explore every corner, drawing out delicious, desperate noises.

You pull away. “You’ve teased me enough for one day,” you tell him, the palm of your right hand pressed flatly against his chest.

“I’m only getting started,” he replies, pushing closer.

“If you keep that up, you will have to fuck me again,” you say, and it sounds like a warning.

“I’m planning on doing that, baby girl.” He gives you another small kiss. “But let me take you back to the yacht first. I want to be somewhere where I can give you my full attention.”

#the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez #pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #writer wednesday #claire this is for you!!

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authoressskr · 3 years

Text

Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs

Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta :: Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!! :: Word Count: 10,414

Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader

Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.

Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”

[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-

Part One

You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.

The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.

The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.

The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.

The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.

But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…

When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.

A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??

The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.

Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.

Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.

It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.

The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.

So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.

The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.

The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.

You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.

“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.

“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.

“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.

“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”

“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”

“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.

“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”

“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”

“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”

“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”

“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.

“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”

“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.

“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.

“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.

“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.

That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.

“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.

“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.

“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”

“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.

“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.

“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.

But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”

“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”

You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.

“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”

“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.

“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.

“Yes and no.”

“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.

“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”

“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.

“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.

“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”

“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.

“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”

“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.

How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.

And you both know it’s from you.

-----*****-----*****-----

Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.

“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.

“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.

“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”

“Horny?”

“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.

“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.

“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”

“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.

“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”

“Don’t.”

“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.

“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.

“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.

-----*****-----*****-----

The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.

Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.

Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.

Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.

Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.

Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.

You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.

“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.

Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.

Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.

From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”

“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”

“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”

“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.

“I was damned from the get go, princess.”

“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.

“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.

You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.

“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.

“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.

“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.

“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”

“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal.

Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.

The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.

Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.

“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.

Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.

“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”

“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.

“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.

“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.

The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.

He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.

“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”

His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.

“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”

“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.

“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.

“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.

“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.

“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.

“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.

“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.

“But you found me, handsome.”

Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.

“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes.

“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.

“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.

“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.

“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”

Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”

“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.

“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.

“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.

He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.

“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,”

“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.

“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.

And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.

“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.

The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.

“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.

“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”

“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.

“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.

It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.

“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.

“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”

Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.

“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”

Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.

A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.

The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.

Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.

Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.

“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”

Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.

“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.

“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.

Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.

“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”

“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.

“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”

“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.

“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”

“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.

“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.

Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.

“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”

“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”

“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.

“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”

“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”

“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.

“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.

“I can’t wait.”

“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”

“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.

“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.

“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.

“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”

“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.

“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.

“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.

“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”

“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.

“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.

“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street.

“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.

“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”

“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”

“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.

“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.

“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”

“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”

“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.

“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.

“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”

Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3

@stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @mizzezm

**PICTURE IS NOT MINE - FOUND ON GOOGLE**

**ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS**

#bucky barnes x reader #ckcomebacktour #authoressskr writes #bucky x reader #bucky au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader au #marvel fanfiction #marvel au

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writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

Finding Home (merman!Elliott x gn!reader)

A/N: Me and a friend, @hideyoosh, worked on this stardew valley reader insert fic together. There should be more chapters in the future hopefully.

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The tree branches sway as the fallen leaves are carried in the gentle wind.

Today was a perfect day for fishing. You had been so caught up in tending to your autumn crops that you hadn't taken the time to focus on your hobbies. It wasn’t like you didn't enjoy farming though, it was just nice to take a break every once in a while.

Unfortunately, the lake in the forest south of your farm seemed to be quiet today. Nothing was biting, even with the bait you had hooked on. This was extremely peculiar since every time you came here multiple fish would bite throughout the day. You'd even throw some back. But now it was well into the afternoon and you hadn't caught a single thing.

You sigh and lean back in your seat you placed on the dock. Good thing you brought one with you.

While you contemplate whether you should call it day or not, your rod jerks forward. You finally had hooked something!

You scramble to try to reel it in hoping, praying, that it wasn't trash that got caught. However you cross that off quickly. Whatever you had at the end of the line was fighting back hard.

You put up your best fight, set on making this fish yours and it seems like neither of you will let up. But then your line suddenly snaps.

The release of tension sends you and your chair falling backwards. Your mouth gawks at the destroyed line on your iridium fishing rod. This wasn’t any cheap rod either. In fact, it was brand new!

What could have been strong enough to do this?

You pout at the loss of an incredible catch and your line that you would now have to fix.

"Dammit…"

Suddenly, you hear splashing from the lake and look up to see a man in the water not too far away from you. You had never seen this man in town before so you're immediately alarmed.

How long had he even been in the water?

"I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" he called out.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re at a loss for words.

The man had long ginger hair, and deep green eyes. Along with his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline, he might as well be physically flawless. Part of you couldn't believe he was even human.

He holds out your hook, the broken off piece of your line hanging from it, and begins making his way closer to the dock.

"I apologize for breaking it, but I couldn't get it out otherwise so…."

You finally manage to somewhat collect yourself back onto your chair and try to make sense of what was happening. Surely you would have noticed someone out in the lake before you cast out your line, so how did he get hooked?

He stares at you, and you stare right back. His gaze was warm and honest, almost naive.

Breaking the momentary silence, you utter a very eloquent, "What?"

"This hook. I believe it belongs to you seeing as we’re the only ones here. Thought I would return it since my arm has no better use for it."

You give a breathy laugh and reach for the outstretched hook. “Yeah I suppose you’ve got a good point there. Thanks.”

You take the hook from his hand, your fingers just brushing up against his. The small bit of contact has your face heating up unexpectedly and you look away.

What's wrong with you?Just an ounce of human contact and you're on fire! Touch starved much?

The other equally reasonable part of you argues otherwise though.

The man is a living, breathing deity of grace and beauty! Anyone with eyes can argue that. How am I still conscious?

And somehow you agree with both.

Once you take the hook, you notice the blood on his left arm.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hook you. I’d be a sorry excuse for a fisherman if I could only fish men."

He offers a short laugh and replies, "That's quite alright. You were just trying to catch a meal.”

Oh, I caught a meal alright...

“I assure you it appears much more garish than it actually is." He pokes around the wound to demonstrate no reaction. “See?”

"Please, it's my fault you’re hurt so I can at least help you clean the wound. My farm’s not too far, I’ll grab a first aid kit and be back.”

You get up from your chair quickly and give him no time to argue. If you were fast enough you could be back within an hour, so you half-sprint the trip back to your farm.

As you look through your medicine cabinet for anything else you might need, you remember the times you hurt yourself with fishing hooks. Sure, they can be annoying to deal with, but that’s really all. You can't really say much for experiencing getting hooked and reeled though.

Catching yourself zoning out, you quickly gather what you need before heading to the dock once more.

You run down the old wooden planks to your chair and pole, but you don’t find the injured stranger there with them.

Confused, you look around in the distance to see if he got out of the water somewhere. As soon as you turn to look behind yourself, you feel something grip your ankle. You shriek and frantically try to kick it off.

“WHAT THE F-”

"Shh! Please don’t scream! It’s me!"

Your ankle is released and you fall backwards onto the dock. Again. You scoot closer to the edge and meet an apologetic gaze. The man was still in the water after all. You give a sigh of utter relief.

“I’m so glad it’s you and not a murderous mythical fish monster...Where did you go?”

“I was diving a bit while you were gone. I’m sorry. It was ill mannered of me to grab you so suddenly,” he said earnestly.

Part of you wonders why he didn't just call out to you but you shrug.

“All is forgiven.”

You place a towel and first aid kit on your fish cooler and motion to the chair next to it.

"Can you get out of the water for me? You can sit on this seat so I can clean you up."

"Um…"

"What’s up?"

He visibly tenses at the question and musters out, "I just don't think I can get up into that seat."

He moves closer to the pier and places his hands on the worn wood before trying to lift himself up and falling back in the water.

“Not a problem man! I’ll help you up.”

“Wait!”

You take a good grip on his arm, muster all the strength you used trying to reel him in the first time, and heave him onto the dock. Your eyes widen when you see that his bottom half isn't human at all. His hips were completely covered in burgundy scales and as he sits himself on the edge of the pier, you realize that his lower body tapers off into a giant tail.

For the second time today you find yourself struggling to find words.

The man--no merman realizes your shock and gives an empty chuckle. "I've scared you again…"

Immediately, you blink and shake your head. "I--I'm just a little surprised, but not scared. You’d be surprised yourself that this doesn’t even top the list!"

Supernatural beings in this town aren’t exactly few and far between, are they?

“Anyways, tail or not, your arm still needs attention. Lift it up for me?”

The man gapes back at you but does as you say. It seems he’s the one left speechless this time.

You grab the disinfectant spray off the cooler and move the bandages to the seat before approaching him.

"This might sting a little."

You spray where the hook had got him and you realize that the gash goes down further than you thought originally. It begins near his shoulder and fades out around the middle of his bicep due to you trying to reel him in. The guilt starts to set in pretty fast as you inspect the wound.

As you try to take your mind off the damage you caused you notice the merman seems lost in thought.

"What's your name?" you ask.

He seems surprised yet relieved by the break in the silence. He slips into a relaxed and elegant smile and says, “Elliott. Might I ask you yours?"

"I’m ____, but most people just call me the farmer around here."

"Then it's very nice to meet you, farmer."

You grab the bandages but then remember that the Elliott would eventually have to go back in the water. So you fiddle with the packaged roll in your hands instead.

"Well, I think I'm done. I can't wrap the wound cause it would be bad if the bandages got wet. Will you be okay?"

"You needn’t worry! It will heal in no time at all and even more so since you helped me." He gives you a very charming smile and you can't help returning it.

He’s really different from everyone else in town, you think to yourself, and not just because of the whole merman situation. Elliott had a mature and sophisticated manner of speaking which was a welcome change of pace. And speaking with him was effortless as it was enchanting. You hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

"Do you live here?"

The merman frowns slightly before shaking his head. "Unfortunately, I appear to be stuck between a rock and a hard place in terms of my home.”

"Oh, are you lost?"

"Not necessarily. I ended up here because I had nowhere else to go. The humans in blue along the coast have closed off any underwater entrance back into the ocean from here."

You tilt your head wondering what he means before it hits you.

Joja.

"The dam--They must have shut it off completely. But they said that they wouldn't!"

Your brow furrows as you try to figure out how this happened. Earlier in the year, Joja had finished the construction of their dam running along the outlet of the river bank to the sea. All you knew about it was bits of information you overheard in the saloon, really, and that helped you remember two things. That the dam was unfortunately an energy powerhouse in Stardew Valley and Joja was only allowed to build the dam under the condition that they could not mess with the river bank’s environment.

Cutting off the sea from the river is a huge interjection! They couldn't even do it without the proper authorization! What could they possibly be hoping to gain from a severed connection between the river and ocean?

Your thoughts come to a halt when you see Elliott giving you a concerned look. The last thing you want to do is give him more reason to worry, so instead you inhale deeply and do your best to comfort him.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I wish I could help you get back."

He smiles weakly, "Your kindness and concern are enough."

The sentiment was nice but you shake your head. "No, I'm going to help you get back home. I've just decided."

The merman's eyes widen. "But how?"

"...That is a good question." You think for a moment but nothing is really coming to mind.

"I don't know yet but I'm sure we can come up with something eventually!"

Fortunately, that's enough to raise Elliott's spirits. "Perhaps you're right. They do say two heads are better than one."

You smile, but maybe you need to recruit some assistance though.

#stardew valley #stardew elliott #elliott x farmer #elliott x reader #reader insert #stardew valley x reader #dabbling a little out of jojo lol #sdv elliott

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anxiousstark · 3 years

Text

S3 11 | Anchors

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE | MIATCHEMBER | KO-FI

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 4442

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, car accidets, murder, death, sweating (always), etc.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

STILES POV

Light streaks were hitting my face, making me groan. I tried to cover them with my hands, but it seemed like the light could pierce through my skin.

Softly letting my eyes open, I felt my swallow breath. I was inside a locker, and I didn't know what had happened for me to end like this. My mind rapidly went to Scott, was he alright? Did the supernatural come back? I just couldn't remember what had happened for me to end in such a situation. And what about Y/N?

I hit the door, trying to get it open. My breathing became even more accelerated as the door didn't budge. Finally, after using as much strength as I could, I freed myself from the confined space, just to notice that I was in the locker room at school. What was I doing here?

Everything was dark, and as I glanced down at my feet, I noticed that I was barefoot. Then, my eyes slowly went up. I was in my pyjamas.

Coming out of the locker room, I couldn't help but be wary, afraid to be attacked by some beast. At the end of the corridor, I saw an open door, which seemed to have light.

While going inside the room, everything seemed to be a mess. Chairs and tables were laying on the floor, in positions that weren't ordinary. But my heart beat even faster as I saw the Nemeton in the middle of the room. I slowly placed my hand on it just to be caught by branches.

I gasped, sitting down on my bed. It was just a nightmare. I was safe in the confines of my bedroom. I was safe. Everyone was safe.

"You okay?" A familiar voice asked me, and I quickly turned around. Her hand landed on my bicep, squeezing it gently. "Stiles?"

"Yeah," I tried to steady my breathing. "I was just dreaming." I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds. "I was just dreaming. It was weird. It was like a dream within a dream."

"A nightmare?" I placed my hand on top of hers, not daring to look at my girlfriend as she would get worried about me.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Wait a second, Y/N." I glanced at her, noticing a big smile on her face. "What are you doing here? I dropped you home last night." I hear the crack of the door, rapidly examining it as it opened. "Hang on."

"Stiles, where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna close the door." My gaze didn't shift from the door, and for some reason, it made me feel dizzy.

"Just come to bed, baby." Not even the pet name I loved to hear made me turn around.

"No, no, I should close it." I was in a trance as I walked closer, taking small steps.

"Don't worry about it." Her voice seemed to warn me, begging me to go back to bed.

I shook my head, tasting the sweat that was now running over my lips. "What if someone comes in?"

"Like who?" She didn't move from the bed. "Just go back to sleep, Stiles." I was standing now in front of the door. "Stiles, just leave it. Please. Stiles." My left hand reached to touch the knob. "Stiles, come back to bed. Stiles." I gripped the handle, quickly turning it and opening the door. "Please. Don't, Stiles. Don't!" She was yelling so loud that my heart was breaking, but I didn't listen to her. I couldn't. "Don't go in there, please, don't. Please, Stiles, don't!" I did. I walked through the darkness.

But soon, the darkness became more than one blinding light. My body shivered as the wind hit my bare arms. I was underdressed to be at the-. Where was I? Lacrosse field, why?

"Okay," My breathing became uneven. "It's a dream. This is just a dream. It's just a dream, get it out of your head, Stiles." I talked to myself. "You're dreaming. All right? So, wake up, Stiles." I couldn't breathe properly, and the tears invaded me as I was terrified. I hit my head repeatedly. "Wake up, Stiles. Wake up!"

"Stiles?" I turned around, seeing Y/N again. Why was she on the lacrosse field.

"W-What are you doing here?" I wandered to her, confused by the situation. I extended my arms, cautiously, trying to make sure that it was her. I sighed in relief as she came into my arms, embracing me. Her body was shaking.

"I don't know." She swallowed, glancing around to move her gaze to me. "I was home, and then I was here." She shivered, and I quickly rubbed her bare arms.

"Okay," I tried to calm myself down. "Let's go home, okay?" I placed my hand on her lower back, encouraging her to walk with me.

"My dream was scary," She stopped walking, and I felt so broken as soon as tears started rolling down her cheeks. "Y-You were there, and you tried to kill me, Stiles." She was loudly weeping.

"It was just a nightmare, baby." I grabbed her cheeks. "I would never do that to you. I would kill whoever comes near you."

"But you did, Stiles." She moved away from my hands. "You tried to kill me!" She screamed so loud that my ears started vibrating. "You tried to kill me!" It became even louder. "So I will kill you first." She showed me her hands. She was gripping a shiny knife, and before I could do something, she repeatedly stabbed me in the chest, wickedly smirking.

I shouted as loud as I could. Hardly noticing how my dad came into the room, hugging me from behind and trying to calm me down. However, I couldn't stop screaming.

"Mmmh," My mouth was watering. My elbows resting on top of the counter as I glanced at the food Melissa was preparing. "Smells so good."

She glanced at me, smiling. "Hopefully, it tastes good too." She chuckled. "I'm not a good chef." Due to her shifts at the hospital, I had learnt that she hardly ever cooked, preferring to order food.

"Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, you will have to change your shift to cook more often." I grinned while she laughed.

"I don't think so." Shaking her head, she stirred the vegetables. "Ugh, I think Scott left the grocery bags on the living room. Can you bring them here?"

I started walking towards the living room, not taking my eyes from her. "Not surprised my dear brother is so distracted." As I heard her laugh, I decided to look to the front, not wanting to hit any furniture. But there weren't any, because I was in the middle of a field. "M-mama McCall?" I called, even though I knew she wasn't there.

Everything was dark, and the moon seemed to laugh at me. I could see its reflection on the surface of a lake. I leisurely walked towards it, confused. My eyes were focused on the water, as I thought I saw something moving inside it. Bubbles were coming up, and as I tilted my head to the side, a hand came from underwater, seizing me by the neck.

I gasped, grabbing the flaky hand with both of my hands, trying to lessen the grip around my throat. But the only thing that happened was me getting farther from the ground.

A giant monster who reminded me of the Kanima was holding me up from my neck. And as I peered down, I was at least fifteen meters away from the ground.

His enormous green eyes studied me. He opened his mouth, a repulsive smell invading all of my senses. His teeth were sharp and stained. I thought he was going to eat me alive, but he was showing me how Stiles was on his mouth, screaming for me to help him.

"This is your fault!" He was crying. "IT killed my dad, and now it's going to kill me!" His face was red, and my anxiety rose as I couldn't answer his claims. "It all started because you came to Beacon Hills! You brought the Kanima! You did i-." His words were interrupted as he was swallowed by it.

I could finally scream. "STILES! STILES!" I closed my eyes as tears ran down my cheeks. "STILES!"

Hearing my name, I turned around. I was sitting on the floor of the living room, and Melissa was looking at me with a worried expression decorating her face. "Hey, hey. What happened?" Her hands caressed my hair, and as I tried to control my breathing, I couldn't help but lean on her. "Are you okay?" I nodded my head. I wasn't okay.

"I'm okay." I stepped closer to Stiles and my brother, not feeling like offering them a smile.

"No, you're not." The hazel-eyed boy shook his head. "It's happening to you too. You're seeing things, aren't you?" I glanced at him, bewildered.

"How'd you know?" My brother asked, attempting to control his breathing.

Overhearing steps, we saw Lydia and Allison getting closer to us. "Because it's happening to all three of you."

"Actually," Everyone glanced at me. "To the four of us." I swallowed, gaze shifting to my boyfriend. He made a sign for me to get closer to him. His arms engulfed my body. Both of us sighing in relief. "It was terrifying."

"Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one." The strawberry blonde girl seemed to be enjoying our terrifying expressions and the dark bags under our eyes.

"We're not crazy." Allison rolled her eyes.

Lydia turned around, glancing at us. "Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine."

"We did die and come back to life." My brother stared at us. "That's gotta have some side effects, right?"

"I didn't," I added, hugging myself. "I didn't do that, so why is it happening to me too?"

I felt a hand grabbing mine, fingers intertwining. "We keep an eye on each other. Okay?" The Stilinski boy received nods as an answer. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."

It didn't seem like the day would be easy. We had this new teacher, who made us forget about what was going on for a couple of seconds as he embarrassed his daughter, who was one of our classmates. However, Scott's eyes started to glow, and Stiles and I had to let him know.

Then, I received a message from Lydia. She told me that Allison was doing as bad as us. She had fucked up a canvas, and she had imagined it was the blood of her aunt Kate.

I walked closer to the lockers with the boys. "Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal." My brother was trying to convince himself.

"Yeah," And my boyfriend wasn't taking it as he fought his locker. "Try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures. There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal."

"Yeah." Both of the boys got distracted. Stiles studied his locker as if he was seeing something while Scott had noticed the new girl at the end of the corridor, creepily peering at her.

"Oh shit," I bit my lower lip. Both boys quickly glanced at me, making sure that I was alright. "Your eyes are flashing."

"You mean like right now?"

"Yes, right now." Stiles nodded his head, looking around, making sure that nobody noticed. "Scott, stop. Stop it."

The other boy panted. "I can't. I can't control it." He quickly covered his eyes with his hands, keeping his head low. Stiles and I guided him towards a classroom, closing the door behind us. He took his backpack and his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. "Get back away from me." His voice was deeper than usual. "I don't know what's going to happen. Get back." His fangs were out.

I got closer to Stiles, and he didn't hesitate to step in front of me in case my brother would completely lose his mind. But he didn't. His nails stabbed the inside of his hands, blood dripping down his arms. Then, he just went back to normal.

Stiles and I stepped closer, glancing at my brother whose face was full of sweat. However, the boy still kept me behind him. "Pain makes you human." His voice wavered.

"Scott, this isn't just in our heads. This is real. And it's starting to get bad for me too. I'm not just having nightmares. I'm having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake." I rested my hand on his back, rubbing circles on it. "And sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm actually ever waking up."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frightened.

He glanced at me for a couple of seconds to later look into the distance. "Do you know how you can tell if you're dreaming?" My brother and I shook our heads. "You can't read in dreams. More and more, the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words. I can't put the letters in order."

"Like even now?" Scott asked.

The Hazel eyes shifted their gaze to the blackboard. "I can't read a thing."

"You know, the last time we bought one of these to her grave was stolen the same day." Stiles placed some flowers on top of his dad's desk. "Hundred bucks down the drain." I couldn't believe that people would do that. "Hey, Dad?" Mr. Stilinski was sitting on the floor, behind his desk. "Hi, what are you doing down there?"

"Working." He went back to look at all the papers that were scattered on the floor. "And hey, if somebody wants the flowers that badly, they can have them. It's the gesture."

"Hey, Dad, what is all this?"

"I've been looking over some old cases from a more illuminated perspective, if you know what I mean." I snickered, nodding my head as Stiles did the same.

The boy grabbed some files. "Strange sighting of bipedal lizard man sprinting across freeway."

"Kanima pile." Mr. Stilinski hit some other files as his son placed the folder where his dad told him.

"Mr. Stilin-." As I received a look from him, I quickly changed my words. "Noah, you're not going back through all your old cases seeing if any of them had something to do with the supernatural, are you?"

"I admit the recent opening of my eyes to the greater mysteries of the universe has got me reassessing." He sighed. "There's at least 100 cases here where I look at the details, and I can ask myself if I knew then what I know now."

We both kneeled on the ground. "Right, but are you sure you wanna go down that path?"

"Do I have a choice?" He got up. "There's one case in particular that I can't get out of my head." He passed some files to us. I got closer to my boyfriend, trying to take a better look. "Eight years ago, I was elected Sheriff of County, my first official duty was to tell a man that not only had his wife, and two kids died in a car accident, but, as best we could tell, the body of his daughter had been dragged from the wreck by coyotes."

I gasped while studying the picture of a little girl, happily smiling. "You mean dragged and eaten?"

"We didn't find the car until three days after the crash. They had driven off the road into a pretty deep ravine. Two bodies that were still in the car were covered in bites and slashes." He seemed to be reminiscing that old case.

"So you're thinking bites and claw marks, probably a werewolf attack?"

He nodded his head at his son. "Maybe."

"But coyotes, they scavenge, right?" Stiles shook his head. "So, couldn't they have just left the bites and the slashes?"

"Absolutely." He nodded his head. "But guess what night the accident occurred on?" He pointed to the bold date on the file.

"The night of a full moon." I added, glancing at my boyfriend who was already looking at me.

"Hey, Dad." Hazel eyes glanced around the room, examining all the boxes that were scattered around. "Where are all these going?"

The Sheriff sighed, biting his lip. "Yeah, we, uh-." His eyes focused on me. "We probably need to talk about that."

The next day, all of us were nervously sitting on a table outside of the school. And as much as I wanted to enjoy the weather, I just couldn't.

"Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" My brother asked without taking his eyes off the wooden table.

"And is unable to tell what's real or not?" Stiles added, his legs bouncing up and down.

"And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?" Allison spoke up.

"And can't stop dreaming about dying people blaming her?" It was the first time I blatantly spoke about my dreams. Stiles glimpsed at me, worried, and swiftly kissing my forehead.

"They're all locked up because they're insane." I snapped my gaze to Issac, grabbing one of Stiles pencils and throwing it at his forehead. He gasped, rubbing the spot where I hit him. "For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer. So, being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

The owner of the pencil and the person I hit with the item started to argue. "Hi. Hi, sorry." I glanced to my side. The new girl was standing there, clutching a notebook between her fingers. "I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about. And I think I actually might know what you're talking about." We didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue. "There's a Tibetan word for it. It's called 'Bardo'. It literally means 'in-between state.' The state between life and death."

Lydia sounded mean as she spoke up. "And what do they call you?"

"Kira," My brother instantly answered. Smooth, McCall. "She's in our History class."

"So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?" The strawberry blonde seemed to be a little more interested. However, her tone didn't prove the same thing.

"Either, I guess." She glanced at me, and I moved closer to Stiles so she could sit beside me. "But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities." She smiled.

"Wrathful deities?" I couldn't help and grin as Isaac repeated her last words. His chin, resting on top of his hand. "And what are those?"

"Like demons!" She was too excited about the topic while we were probably shitting our pants.

"Demons." Stiles looked around, nodding his head. "Why not?"

"Hold on," Allison decided to interrupt. "If there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?"

"Death. You die."

That same night, we decided to talk with Deaton, asking for help and explaining the situation that was suffocating us. He believed that after going underwater, we had opened a door in our minds, and we needed to close them as soon as possible because it was making us vulnerable.

I was confused and informed him that I was going through the same thing as the other three. The only difference was that I never got in one of the bathtubs. Deaton was also surprised but believed that the Kanima had opened a door in my head. A door that like the other three, I had to close.

As we were coming out of the vet clinic, a car pulled up. "Dad, what are you doing here?" Stiles glanced at his father as he rubbed my arms. He had already given me his jacket, but I was still freeing.

"I'm here because I could use some help." His gaze shifted to my brother. "Actually, your help." My brother asked why. "Because eight years ago, almost an entire family died in a car accident. One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found. There's enough evidence to have me thinking that a werewolf could have caused the accident, and then dragged her body away." Stiles and I already knew about this. "If you could somehow get a lock on her scent if you could somehow help me find her body, it might provide the missing clue."

"But what if it was a werewolf?"

"Well, there's somebody out there who murdered an entire family. Someone who still needs to be caught."

And that is how we ended in another mess. Mr. Stilinski had driven us to the Tate household, and he planned to distract Mr. Tate while we sought for something that could help Scott pick up her scent.

My brother was sniffing some plushies, hoping they would be the lost girl's ones. "All I'm getting is some animal smell."

Stiles grabbed another plushie. "What kind of animal?" As we heard a growl, we turned around. A big dog was studying our movements as he snarled. "Hi, puppy." We didn't move a finger. "Get rid of it." My brother was puzzled. "Yes, you. Glow your eyes at it, something, be the Alpha."

"I can't. I don't have control." The curly-haired boy shook his head, trying not to make drastic movements.

"Can you like, smell each other's butts and be friends?" I genuinely asked, receiving a look from both boys. Scott wanted to roll his eyes while my boyfriend agreed with me.

The dog felt intimidated, and he started barking as loud as he could. Mr. Tate screamed at him, and we were glad to be on different floors of the house. Apollo, the dog, shut up immediately, leaving us on our own.

However, Noah was kicked out of the house as Mr. Tate couldn't stand the thought of his wife and girls being murdered. He had spent eight years of his life trying to accept that they were killed in an accident.

When the four of us where far from the house, Scott had to inform the older Stilinski that he wasn't able to pick up a scent. "Why is it so important now?" My brother asked as he observed Noah driving away.

"He wants to be able to solve one more while he's still Sheriff." Stiles glanced at this friend.

"What do you mean, 'still Sheriff'?"

"That doesn't make any sense, Dad!" Scott continued screaming, and my anxiety rose, wishing for Melissa to come back home. "Who are you helping? Just get out."

"Scott."

"What? I can't believe that you'd do this to my best friend." He was spitting due to how angry he was. I decided not to interfere as a couple of minutes ago, when I tried to calm him down, he snapped at me.

"I'm not doing anything to your friend." I scoffed, receiving a look from him. "I'm doing my job."

"Your job sucks."

"Some days I can't argue that."

I heard the door opening, glancing at Melissa who was coming late from work. She sent me a confused expression, and I quickly shook my head.

"Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" She placed her bag on the couch. I wandered closer to her, standing by her side as she brought me nearer her body. Screams, I couldn't stand people screaming.

Scott offered me an apologizing look but continued. "He's trying to get Stiles's dad fired."

"No. That's not true."

"What are you doing?" Mama McCall came to our rescue.

"Conducting a case for impeachment."

"That sounds a lot like getting him fired."

"The lack of resolution and ability to close cases is what's going to get him fired. My job is just to collect the information. And it's the job my superiors have given me." He attempted to defend himself.

"Beacon Hills needs Noah Stilinski as the Sheriff." I decided to interfere, mad by how he was addressing the man I appreciated with all my heart. "Tell me, Agent McCall. Did you solve EVERY case you had?" He didn't answer. "I'm sure people got in the way, conditions, information, missing hints. Sadly, not all cases in the world will end up being solved." Melissa squeezed my arm, reassuring me. "But that doesn't make someone incompetent. It makes him even more accountable because he could have given up as soon as a case got more complex, but he didn't." I took a breath. "Mr. Stilinski did, does, and will do so much for Beacon Hills. And I know you don't care about what other people may feel or say," I spat. "But Beacon Hills won't feel as safe if Noah Stilinski isn't the Sheriff."

"Scott, sweetheart. Calm down." Melissa walked closer to the boy, noticing his swallow breathes and his nails. "Come with me right now. Let it go. Just breathe and let it go." Both of them left the room, and I stayed back for a couple of seconds to glare at the sperm donor.

"Why do you stay when you don't have to but leave when you have to stay?" I asked just to receive a perplexed look. I shook my head, searching for the other two McCall's.

As I rounded the corner, I heard Melissa. "You told me you and Stiles learned a way to control this." She was trying to calm Scott. "You find an anchor, right? Find your anchor."

"My anchor was Allison." His fangs were out while his eyes were flashing. "I don't have Allison anymore."

"Then be your own anchor. You can do this." I walked closer to my brother, grasping his hand and breathing calmly so he could follow my pace. "Sweetheart, let me tell you something no teenager ever believes, but I swear to you is the absolute truth. You fall in love more than once. It'll happen again. And it'll be just as amazing and as extraordinary as the first time. And maybe just as painful. But it will happen again, I promise. And until then," She squeezed his arm. "Be your own anchor."

That night Scott and I went to Stiles's house, we went to the forest in search of the dead body. But we didn't find a dead body, we found an animal.

Problems seemed to invade us; the Tate case, anchors, and the fact that my father didn't even recognize me.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh - @drikawinchester - @perrytheplatypus11 - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @linkpk88 - @royalreadery - @sweetest-serpent01 - @teenwaywardasgardian - @sadcupofcoffee - @maliyamay - @seninjakitey -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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365days365movies · 3 years

Text

May 1, 2021: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part One)

What’s that old Arthur C. Clarke quote again?

Not that one, although that’s...that’s fantastic, and I need to know more context to that conversation. But no, no, not that. The other one.

Not that one, although that’s...horrifying. Let me explain something first, then. Clarke was the author of the classic science-fiction novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, which definitely didn’t go on to become one of the most widely regarded films of all time. Anyway, he was a big-shot in science fiction, and was even knighted for his prominence in pop culture in the UK and across the world.

Fellow famous sci-fi author Isaac Asimov is well known for three rules of robotics, but Clarke has three rules of his own. A futurist, his laws describe conjecture about scientific development in the future of out societies. Those laws are:

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Magic, huh?

God, I love Weird Al. Anyway, as a child of the ‘90s, I am well-acquainted with the boom of stage magicians that appeared during that time, and during the early 2000s. David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear, David Blaine coughed up a live frog, Criss Angel freaked minds; lot of stuff back then.

And yet, despite other recent magicians like Penn and Teller or Dynamo, the greatest age of stage magic isn’t even CLOSE to the 90′s. No, no, to really see magic in its heyday, we need to go back to the late 1800s and early 1900s, to the days of the stage illusionist.

Obviously, the first person that comes to mind is Harry Houdini, a man whose feats have lasted the test of time, and may have led to his death. Not only did he get buried alive, not only did he escape from a straitjacket in chains underwater, NOT ONLY did he hold his breath inside a water-filled milk can inside of a wooden chest repeatedly for FOUR YEARS, but he was also the greatest enemy of spiritualists and mediums everywhere!

Yeah, despite being a stage magician, Houdini was OBSESSED with exposing those who claimed to be actually supernatural. After all, as a showman, he was interesting in exposing tricks that were meant to defraud the innocent public. Dude was awesome, is what I’m saying. He died from a burst appendix, which miiiiight have been caused by a student who punched him in the stomach after asking if he was actually resistant to abdominal damage. Yeah, not a great death. And he wasn’t the only illusionist to die of tragic circumstances, but that’s a discussion for another day. Because of this is sci-fi month...why am I talking about magic? Well...imagine a lighter.

Now image that you went back 5,000 years, to any civilization, and showed them a lighter. The ability to create fire with seemingly nothing but your bare hands? You’re basically a wizard! Fire from no visible fuel? TEACH ME YOUR WAYS, O SORCERER OF THE FLAME!!! And that’s just a goddamn lighter.

What about a light bulb? Light from energy you’ve harnessed from metals and from the air itself? Jujube! A camera? With the ability to capture a moment in time in the form of a tangible image? WITCHCRAFT!!! A smartphone? A FUCKING SMARTPHONE???

And so, in celebration of the blurring of magic and science...why not start this month with an unconventional form of science fiction, huh? Something that blurs magic and science in a way that’s indistinguishable. And so, I can FINALLY watch a movie that I’ve wanted to watch for YEARS!

I am so excited, and this is a hell of a way to kick off the month! Why this? Well, I’ll explain that later. But for now...LET’S DO THIS.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Recap (1/2)

There are three acts of magic.

First is “the pledge”, where the magician shows something normal. Then, there’s “the turn”, which is when the ordinary becomes extraordinary. And finally, there’s the act of bringing the show full-circle; bringing back a disappeared object, in a new way and with a new technique. That final act, the showmanship, the establishment of the mystery, is called “the prestige”.

So is told to us by John Cutter (Michael Caine), keeper of canaries and stage engineer to magicians, via narration abut magic. Intercut with that narration, and with a disappearing canary trick, is the presentation of an act being performed by Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman). In it, he turns on a machine using electricity, with lightning bolts flying freely. He steps inside of it, and disappears.

Meanwhile, coming from the audience, a man pretends to be part of the act, and goes backstage and underneath the machine. There, he witnesses Angier fall through a trap door into a water tank, unable to get out, panicking and drowning. Which is just super fun to watch, lemme tell you! And that is where the story starts.

The man from the audience was Alfred Borden (Christian Bale), who is quickly put on trial for the murder of Angier. A rival of his during the 1890s and early 1900s, Borden is sent to jail, and sent to death by hanging. This is as his young daughter watches on. In court, Alfred testifies against Bruce Wayne on how he murdered Wolverine, because this is all I could think of the entire time. Anyway, the court asks for more details on the trick that killed Angier, called “the Transported Man”. He refuses to divulge it publicly, but agrees to tell it to one of the judges in secret.

In prison, Borden’s visited by a representative of a wealthy collector of items, Lord Caldlow. He asks if he will sell him his most prominent trick, the “Transported Man”. But Borden also refuses, as it’s HIS trick. Still, in response, the man gives Borden a journal of Angier’s’, and asks him to think about selling the secret. And from there: flashback!

Angier is on a train, heading to Colorado Springs, where he’s surprised to see that the whole town has electricity. His plan is to go up the mountain, which is closed for scientific experimentation. Which isn’t ominous at all! That completely banal revelation is followed by a walk up the mountain in the fog, past a fence that says no trespassing and LITERAL WARNING SIGNS.

There, he’s greeted by Alley (Andy Serkis), the assistant of the estate’s owner. Apparently, said owner made a machine for Borden, and Angier wants to learn the secrets. Another flashback, and we learn that Borden and Angier, rival magicians now, met a long time ago at the show of another magician, both volunteering to tie up the female assistant, Julia (Piper Perabo). Which would be creepy out of context, and then is creepy IN context when Angier kisses her thigh. Ew.

Anyway, they drop her into a tank, with a pretty stereotypical trick. After the show, we also learn that these two men are actually working for the magician, Milton (Ricky Jay), which makes that thigh kiss less creepy. Talking to Cutter and Julia, Borden mocks Milton’s trick, noting that the old magician won’t even try something like a bullet catch. Cutter mocks this idea, and asks if Borden has any better ideas. It’s around this time that Cutter suggests seeing Chung Ling Soo. Huh. I won’t say anything about that until later.

Or right now! And, uh...oh shit, this is extraordinarily awkward. Here’s the thing: this is NOT Chung Ling Soo. I know this for two reasons. One, Soo didn’t really pretend to be crippled, as Borden and Angier suggest. Wasn’t really his bag. But something that IS interesting about the guy is how he died! BULLET CATCH TRICK!! Yup! He tried the bullet catch trick, and he died when the bullet actually fired at him! Yeah, awkward.

And you know what else is awkward, and really different from this story? Chung Ling Soo was...not Chinese. Even a little bit. His real name was William Ellsworth Robinson, he married his assistant, cheated on her with another assistant, never divorced and still married his new assistant illegally, etc. He was an interesting guy. Ignoring, y’know, the whole disgustingly shitty yellow-face thing. Different times, unfortunately.

Borden’s frustration with an act he considers boring and obsolete erupts during one of Milton’s shows, where we see him KILL A BIRD, FUCK ME MAN. Yeah, I get it, Borden, this is terrible! This coincides with meeting a young woman and her nephew, who is also upset to see a bird die in front of him. The woman is Sarah (Rebecca Hall), and the two start a romance. Meanwhile, the romance between Angier and Julia is a straight-up marriage, making that thigh kiss fare more understandable. And, the two are about to have a baby, to both of their delight! Nothing bad will happen now!

We flash forward to the future, where Cutter is showing the judge what’s what with the device. He claims that a wizard built it, and that the machine can actually do what magicians have only pretended to do for years. They also look at a tank, and Cutter reveals that the tank has a terrible history, especially for the two magicians.

Flashback again, to a night of yet another show. That night, Milton and the group go through with their trick, as per usual. However, Borden decides to make it a little tougher and more exciting by tying a different knot this time. And unfortunately...Julia can’t untie it. They try to get her out in time, but alas...it’s too late.

Julia dies, and Angier blames Borden, who isn’t even entirely sure if he tied the knot that killed Julia...allegedly. Not a big fan of Borden right now. The act is over, and Borden decides to split off and do his own act, calling himself “the Professor”. Now having a child of his own with Sarah, he decides to do a bullet trick, with the help of new stage engineer, Fallon. But this is a tricky trick to perform. And the understandable mental breakdown of Angier causes its own problems.

See, during one of Borden’s shows (which is going TERRIBLY), a disguised Angiers shows up and loads a REAL bullet into the gun for the trick, and BLOWS OFF TWO OF HIS FINGERS FUCK ME!!! Borden’s not exactly happy about this, but he recovers quickly. Shortly after, Cutter finds Angier at a bar, and offers him the opportunity to make a new show of his own. Reluctantly, he accepts, and takes up the moniker “the Great Danton”, a name that his late wife suggested.

With a new bird/cage trick, one that lets the bird LIVE (THANK YOU), they’re almost set. But they also add a new assistant, in the form of...Black Widow. I mean, sorry, Olivia Wenscombe (Scarlett Johansson). Yeah, um...Wolver, Alfred Pennyworth, and Black Widow are working together in competition against Batman. Also, Gollum is in the movie, too. God, what’s next, David Bowie?

Anyway, the show is on once again, and Angier asks for some volunteers in the audience. But, uh oh! One of them is Borden in disguise, and he sabotages the trick in front of EVERYBODY, breaking an audience member’s fingers, and killing the bird, completely fucking up Angier’s career, in revenge for his fingers. Oh, also, MOTHERFUCKER YOU KILLED HIS WIFE (maybe)!!! Doesn’t justify Angier shooting off your fingers, but you could’ve just let bygones be! No wonder you’re rivals in the future! Batman’s a dick (which, given Christian Bale, isn’t that surprising).

Well, since his trick, Angier’s fucked. They’re kicked out of the theater, and in need of a new act. Cutter suggests that Angier goes to the upcoming science exposition for ideas. And yes...that’s where the science fiction angle starts in. See, like Clarke said, any science that’s sophisticated enough LOOKS like magic to audiences who don’t understand it. And Borden has the same idea, as he also heads to the expo.

It’s there that a presentation of a massive electrical generator is being held, with the machine having been invented by...Nicola Tesla! YO!

I don’t think I need to tell anybody about Tesla at this point, but he was a brilliant physicist and inventor from the early 1900s. His legendary Current War with Thomas Alva Edison for the current to be used by the United States (Tesla’s DC vs. Edison’s AC) is the stuff of science legend...and is a conflict that the far less charismatic Tesla lost. Still, his mastery of electricity (such as the above Tesla coil) is remembered today. If you want to go sightseeing, check out New York! In Niagara Falls, he’s got a massive statue overlooking the falls; and in Bryant Park in NYC, you can sit on the bench where he fed his beloved pigeons. Yeah, he loved pigeons, which I respect.

Anyway, the expo’s shut down due to presumed danger of the exhibit, possibly spurred on by Thomas Edison and his PR team. Which is pretty accurate, not gonna lie. Still, the experiment interests both Angier and Borden. Still, Angier doesn’t do much with this information. Right now, anyway.

Flash forward to Angier in Colorado Springs, and a group of men from Edison’s employ are there for some reason. But undeterred, Angier heads back to Tesla’s lab, where Alley shows him a gorgeous sight: lightbulbs dotting a field, making a gorgeous grid of light. He reveals that the source of the electricity is 15 miles away, as a testament to Tesla’s scientific genius. Stellar.

A great place to pause. See you in Part Two of this Recap!

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bonniebird · 4 years

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Stiles x Winchester!Reader

Requested by @supernerdycookietrashblr

You hated this. It’d been an easy hunt and the cop who had decided he wanted to help you hunt the monster messed up. He panicked and the ghost got away. Now you’d been possessed and it sucked. It was like being underwater. You could see everything, hear everything but you weren’t in control.

Unfortunately you hadn’t quite figured out why the ghost was possessing people and now you’d have to wait for your brothers to figure out something was wrong. Dean would take some convincing to let you go off on your own again after this. The ghost knew how to drive which meant it could either hear your thoughts and was ignoring you or it had been born during a time period that hard cars which didn’t help you at all. You still made a note of it. There wasn’t much else you could do.

The sign post for Beacon Hills blurred past the car. You’d planned on dropping by to see Stiles after your hunt. It wasn’t easy keeping the fact that you were a hunter secret. Or that fact that you were a Winchester quiet. Peter was easier to bribe into silence than Derek. Stiles and his friends weren’t exactly fond of hunters. Each time you planned on telling him he had to rush off to go and help his friends. Then, there was the flip side. How could you tell your brothers that your long distance boyfriend was hanging around with a crew of supernaturals. One of whom, Peter of course, had caused issues for Dean before.

Sam would freak out more about the supernatural bit than Dean, who would probably try and scare Stiles off. It was easier to keep everything separate. Until now. A shrill irritating sound filled the car. After a few minutes it cut off and started again. You hadn’t checked in with your brothers. Now they’d be looking for you. The car pulled up and you. Rather the ghost got out of the car and headed into a dinner where it sat and waited. It was on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, near the woods so few people came regularly. Of course this would be the moment when Stiles and his friend Scott walked in.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles said cheerfully when he spotted you. His eyes immediately narrowed when you didn’t move or even respond. “Hey, it’s me, Stiles! Your boyfriend?”

Again nothing happened, you strained as hard as you could to move something, anything. But the ghost just used your body to stare Stiles down and sit perfectly still. When something cold and thick trickled from your ear you wanted to shudder, wipe it away. But it just oozed down your earlobe. Being possessed by ghosts was officially more gross than that time Crowly needed to possess you.

*********************

“Still can’t get through.” Dean grumbled as he sped up.

“Dean, maybe she just… went off somewhere.” Sam offered as he looked over the map in his hands. Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. Even when you needed a break you at least told them where you were heading.

“I say we start with that wolf town.”

“Dean… we don’t know that she hangs around with the werewolves there. Besides the last place she went was a couple towns over dealing with… I think she texted asking about spirit possession.”

Dean slammed on the brakes for a moment and glanced at Sam. “You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure and I think she’d be fine. Besides she’s seen us both get rid of ghosts and spirits so she knows what she’s doing.” Sam blabbered quickly. Dean started driving again and followed his brother’s directions to the motel you’d been at.

An irritable Sheriff was waiting outside your room. “You the ones that are crazy b…”

“Watch it.” Dean said gruffly.

“Sorry, she claimed she knew what she was doing then when I try and help she started hollering that I was in the way then took off without another word.” The sheriff complained.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. Ghost possession they seemed to decide without another word. “You see where she took off too?” Dean asked as Sam went to fetch the spare key to your room.

“Yeah, drove off towards Beacon Hills.” The Sheriff said after some thought. Dean thanked him and waited as Sam jogged back over. They could see from the state of your room that you’d been mid hunt.

“Looks like she’d almost figured out who it was.” Sam observed as he looked at your notes.

“She protected herself… look at this.” Dean moved the duvet on the motel bed and they could see the salt ring around it. “Sheriff said he insisted on helping, and didn't think (Y/N) should be going around alone… Idiot probably got in the way.”

Sam hummed in agreement as he read over your notes. Your laptop was sat next to the notebook and after an hour of digging he’d found who was possessing you. “Now we just gotta find her.” Dean muttered as he packed up your things, putting them in the back of the Impala. They headed to the graveyard on the way out, salting and burning the bones for good measure, hoping they’d gotten it right before heading to Beacon Hills.

****************************

Peter and Derek had found you in the woods. You’d screamed as the ghost practically burned it’s way out of you. Derek was only as kind as he needed to be while Peter hoisted you over his shoulder and lugged you to Stiles’ house. You’d fallen asleep when Peter left you. What he’d said to them you had no idea. But Stiles was nervously hopping one foot to the other in the Stilinski’s spare bedroom.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asked quietly when you sat up.

“Yeah, I’m so much better now.” You grumbled out in one huffed breath. He looked nervous and you realised you hadn’t meant your tone to sound quite so sarcastic. “You didn’t need to worry.”

“You were acting really weird.” Stiles murmured awkwardly. When you winced as you tried to get up Stiles rushed over to help.

“Peter said something attacked you. We can help find it…” Stiles offered as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say to you.

“That’s ok. I think my brothers got it.”

“Oh… I didn’t know they knew about that kind of stuff.”

As Stiles sat at the end of the bed there was a soft whooshing sound and Castiel appeared in front of you. Stiles squeaked and you were sure if he hadn’t sat beside you on the bed he might have fainted.

“Hey Cas, I’m fine.” You said with a sigh.

“Are you sure? Dean told me to heal you if you were hurt.” Cas said quickly. He gave Stiles a curious look for a moment.

“I’m fine. I’m guessing they’re on their way?”

“They’re interrogating the Hale wolf… the big one.” With that he vanished.

“That… what… Is he talking about Peter or Derek?” Stiles spluttered out and looked worried. He glanced at you then jumped up. “Did he just say Dean and you said Cas isn’t that the angel that the Winchester captured?”

“We didn’t capture him… he just sort of forgot to go home while keeping an eye on my brother.” You said nonchalantly.

“You! You’re a Winchester!” Stiles accused.

“Sure… I mean Sam and Dean are my half siblings but I’m a Winchester in the sense that my dad is John Winchester and I hunt bad things.”

“Bad things? The Winchesters hunt everything.”

“Well… I mean sure. It’s not like we hunt good things. You know like Scott, we leave your lot alone. Although Dean would like the chance to hunt Peter. Sam says not to ask about that.” You blabbered on, watching as Stiles backed away as if you’d strike at him any second. “I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure how.”

“Maybe ‘hey Stiles me and my brothers hunt things like your friends for sport wanna hang out?’” Stiles said quickly as he flailed.

“Hey!” You snapped and stood up, frowning at Stiles. “We’re not the Argents! My brothers have helped werewolves and other things. They once went into like limbo to help a reaper move a kid on.”

“What!” Stiles said as he tried to figure out what you’d said.

“You know if you needed help and I asked them they would help.” You said huffily.

“Can we interrupt?” Dean asked from the doorway. Stiles eyed him nervously. Dean didn’t bother introducing himself to Stiles, he just headed straight to you to check on you. Sam made a big show of being friendly to Stiles who seemed to warm up to him.

“So… Cas said you were talking to…”

“Drop it.” Dean said quickly. Sam raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“You know Peter might have saved me from being alone, passed out in the woods which are full of supernatural creatures.” You pointed out. Dean glared and shook his head.

“Peter is kind of a dick.” Stiles said quietly. Dean looked at him and nodded.

“I like that kid.” He said quickly.

“Of course you do. He hates Peter, likes dinner food and wears plaid.” You said quickly and Dean nodded, holding his hand out for Stiles to shake.

“Dean, (Y/N)’s bigger brother.” Dean said quickly. You could see Stiles glanced at Sam as he struggled to bury the urge to point out that he might be the oldest brother, but he was by no means the biggest.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? I’ve heard about you at a police convention from a cop… think she was from Minisota? It’d be helpful to have some… constructive advice on the supernatural.” Stiles’ dad said from the doorway. You gave Sam a pleading look and you both looked at Dean who nodded.

“Sure, happy to help.” Dean said with a smile that said if you and Sam make me stay here longer than I have too, I will be complaining!”

“Oh, I’ll summon Cas!” You said happily.

“The angel? We’re having an angel for dinner?” Stiles asked quickly, almost whispering as if he couldn’t believe it.

“He is family… If you’d prefer I could summon Crowley but he’d probably bring his hellhound.”

“Oh! We’ve got one of those, he works for my dad!” Stiles piped up a little as he led the way downstairs where some of the McCall pack had gathered nervously.

“They have hellhounds?” Dean hissed to you. You shrugged and went to great Lydia who seemed more than happy that you were back to normal.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #bonniebird #teen wolf #supernatural

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joyrose-fandomer · 3 years

Text

Please, don’t fall for me (Sanders Sides fantasy school AU) Chap 2

Relationships : Future (Prinxiety, Intrological, Mocite, Platonique Moxiety and platonique Analogical)

POV : Virgil

Characters : Virgil; Remy

TW : Panic attaque (yes again), Curse words (All on Remy)

Previous << >>Next

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"How was school ?"

For only answer, Virgil flopped on the couch and grunted.

"That bad ?" asked his dad with a sigh. "What happened ?"

His father sat next to him on the couch while Virgil told him everything that happened during swimming classes. Only living out the breathing underwater part.

His paternal was open-minded and accepting about many things, but magic and supernatural were always a big no.

Virgil didn't think anything of it at the time. It wasn't like magic existed anyway he taught, it was probably just his imagination, was it?

"It's ok Virgil, I'm sure it won't be as bad as the last school." Said his dad comfortingly.

"What if it is? You don't know how some people can be when they get you in their line of sight. They become another person completely!"

He didn't mean to yell but he could feel memories he rather forgets forever resurface and he really wished he could just pack his things now and move to one more town.

His father sighed. "I know Virgil... But we can't keep changing school and town every time you charm your classmates. We're really short on money and if I resign from this job I can't guarantee that we'll have enough to eat. I hope you understand"

His father was working at a car wash at the moment. The last worker got to another country and they were in serious need of a new one. It wasn't very well paid and if they had to pay rent they would have starved to death long ago. But luckily for them, the house they're inhabiting was a vacation house landed by one of his paternal's friends.

Virgil felt selfish for even thinking of moving out. His father was already having a hard time because of him, he shouldn't have been difficult like that.

"Your right. Sorry..." The boy mumble in a pillow

His parent put a hand on the head of the disgruntled boy and drew small circles in his hair like he always did when Vigile was close to getting a panic attack. It never failed to comfort him and right now he couldn't be more thank full to have his father.

"Virgil, the Director wants you in his office."

Wow. The day was starting GREAT...

Virgil was getting back to school after a day of break to recover mentally and the first thing the teacher said when entering the classroom was that.

Virgil stood up and walked out of the room between his classmate's whispers and a few encouraging words from the boys of his classes. "I'm sure it's not bad", "You got this man". It was a little comforting but it still felt like a walk of shame.

Once out of the classroom the confused boy got through the corridors running everything bad that could happen in his head. He was totally going to get fired, he didn't know for what but he surely did something, or else he wouldn't be called to the director's office.

Finally, the high school boy stopped in front of the office's door.

He was supposed to knock now. But he was way too afraid to do so. Maybe he could wait a few more minutes?

Wasn't it going to make his anxiety even worst?

What if someone passed by and saw him standing in front of the director's office like that and call him a weirdo.

In the end, he didn't have to open the door at all since someone else opened it from the inside.

"Dam girl, how long you've been planning to stand there? Some b*ches have things to do you know ?"

The man looked down on Virgil through his sunglasses, hiding his facial expression. It was hard to know if he was really mad or just joking so Virgil got straight to the worst conclusion and decided he was mad at him.

Virgil looked at the ground and got quickly into the office to not make him wait any longer.In the office was another man sitting at the desk.

Wait that's the director? Virgil was only in the school for a few months and he didn't have a really good facial memory.

If the other guy was not the director who is he?

How did he know Virgil would come?

He apparently took too much time thinking because the man with the sunglasses interrupted his thoughts once more.

"Just put your ass down girl, we'll explain everything to you"

Virgil did as asked and took a seat in front of the director. The man took off his leather jacket and sat next to him.

The director started to talk.

"My apologies for taking you out of your class without warning but we heard from your classmate what happened at your gym classes. Are you ok ?"

Virgil quickly nodded back.

"Good. The reason why I called you here is my friend, Remy, here is interested in the swimming abilities you shown. And would like to see if you're interested in a school where you're abilities could be exploited at their full potential.

The range of sports activities in a small-town's high school is limited and keeping you here would be a waste of potential.

Of course, if you wished to stay at this school it's ok. I'm just asking you to think about it."

The director stopped. Letting Virgil take it all in.

Abilities? Potential? Changing school? What were they talking about? Were they trying to get rid of him? Was the situation at the pool really this bad to try to get rid of him? Is that new school a youth detention center? He didn't do anything bad! He doesn't want to go to jail!

"Hey edge lord, you're there?" The voice next to him asked.

Virgil barely moved. His panic was starting to take over. The comment passed through the fog of his brain like a far-away figure.

"Yeah, you got too hard on him gurl. Could you get me a coffee while I take care of that, sweety?"

"Please, Remy. A thought we agreed to stop with the nicknames, could you hold still in front of the kids at least?"

"Yeah yeah sure."

The voice dismissed the other person. A shadow stood up and walked away. The sound of a closing door and the silence.

Virgil's anxious thoughts tried to come back-

"Hey kid"

but they got cut immediately.

"I don't know where you think I'm trying to take you to but no matter what it is, it's wrong."Sayed the fare away voice.

"We've been looking for you for a while now. You're moving a lot you know ?"

How did he think it would calm him in any way!

The fog of his mind got blown away by the sudden choc. He was now hyper-aware of everything around him.

"Do you know why we were looking for you?"

The panicked boy shook his head violently. He didn't dare to get his eyes off his knees although he really wanted to see the men's facial expression.

"No wonder. Let's get it out of the way. You're a half siren."

Virgil's head shoots up. He couldn't help but send the adult next to him a very unconvinced look.

What? siren? Did that guy hit his head or something?

"Yeah yeah, I get that look 3 times a day. That's the truth honey, just deal with it."

Virgil had so many sassy thing to answers to that but he couldn't. The man was already weird if he started acting like his classmate Virgil would never get rid of him.

"I know you want to say something just say it girl. I know you're not mute"

Virgil kept staring at the insane men like he could make him go away by sheer willpower.

"Let me guess, you're afraid of talking because you're afraid of charming me by accident, right? Is that why you wear this stupid face mask and hood? Cause if that's to look cool it would be very sad, sweety."

Remy completed his sentence with a little smirk. Was he making fun of him?

Did he look this stupid with a face mask?

"Do you really think it's a normal thing for a human to make everyone fall in love with you just like that? To know how to swim naturally? To breath underwater? Come on gurl try and use your brain for a sec would ya?"

It did sound weird, phrased like that but there was probably a logical reason. Sirens didn't exist.

The man took a bottle full of a purple liquid out of his pocket and drunk out of it.

"Burk! This thing tastes horrible. Ok, kid, I need to test something. Could you say something? No fret, I'm not going to go crazy over you."

He took his hands up in a surrender gesture. He seems way too calm for all of this, it was like he was actually used to it all.

But how was drinking juice going to change anything? Virgil was confused. He looked at him stubbornly for a few minutes but the man didn't move an inch. He was waiting for Virgil to say something and he wasn't going to budge before he did.

Where was the director!

"I'm not a siren."

That was all Virgil managed to say.

The men looked at him for a few seconds. before laughing and taking another sip of the liquid.

"You're good, I will give you that gurl. But that's the thing, you're not a siren. Just a half siren.

You have no control over your powers. If we let you roam around like that you're going to charm the entirety of the human populace.

That's why we're going to get you to this new school. To teach you how to contrôle your abilities. Got it, sweety?"

No change of attitude? Virgil was starting to wonder if he was saying the truth after all.

"No..."

Because it didn't make any sense. He was normal right? His dad always told him he was normal. He was just popular, it was normal in movies to be this popular.

At that moment the door of the office opened. And the director came in with a coffee in each hand.

He sat down sighing and gave a coffee cup to Remy.

"My apologies for the time. A few teachers needed my help urgently. So, feeling better young men?"

Virgil nodded. Remy put the bottle of purple liquid back in his pocket.

"Hi gurl, I gave him the speech about the sports clubs at school and all. Do you have the brochure I gave you ?"

Director sent him a murderous look at the nickname but didn't say a thing.

While the director was looking through his pockets, Remy gave Virgil a folded paper.

"There it is" Sayed the director before giving a brochure to Virgil. It's a very good school you should think about it"

Virgil had now two folded papers in his hands but the director didn't notice from behind the desk.

Remy pointed at the brochure the director gave him. Still hidden from the director.

"Don't forget to talk about it with parents about the school, kid. Just in case they say yes, you know."

Then he pointed to the paper he gave Virgil.

"And go visit, it's open all weak. But only for students, not the parents.

If it's too far from your home I'll get you a ride, my number's already on it. And no giving my number, I know I'm hot but unfortunately for all the babes out there I'm already married.

Seriously tho, check it out. I'm sure it would change your mind.

And if you don't, I can still just kidnap you"

He laughed and took a long sip of coffee.

Was he serious about the kidnapping?

The director was starting to look frustrated by this reunion and put an end to it.

"Remy, please avoid those types of jocks, in serious discussion in the future. Virgil, you can go back to class. Don't forget to warn us if you choose to change school."

"haha sorry, honey! It was just a joke"

The man with the sunglass answered in a laugh.

But while Virgil was walking out of the office, could feel his look piercing through the sunglasses.

Virgil turned around one last time before closing the door.

Remy was sitting in the chair like he owns the place, a big smile hidden behind his coffee cup. Virgil could swear he saw his eyes glow behind the shades.

He was not joking.

***<>===========<>**

There the chapter 2 of that AU. God I made 2 chapters and posted them it’s a record for me ! (>w<)

@moments-of-selves @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes I think you two where waiting for the next part ? I hope it’s ok to @ you ?

#sanders sides au #virgil sanders #remy sanders #fanfiction #sanders sides

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smalltowndetective · 3 years

Text

Peace

So, here is the first one of these. I hope you enjoy this? As much as you can?

Randomized this to figure out whose to post first, and I got M, so they are first I guess? (The other three will get posted, probably over the next few days!)

And of course, this was based of this post from @not-sewell! (Might be good to read it before? Not sure)

Thank you so much for the post, and giving me this inspiration? (As painful as it is) If you are not in the mood for angst, this would not be the thing to read. This hurts bad.

And thank you to @lividlyinlove for reading all of these for me! You’re the best! :)

But I’ll quit rambling now. Onwards!

Title: Peace

Pairing: Mason and Mariana

Words:2k

Tags: @pearlsandsteel

(Going to put all of this under the cut)

Not since before that mission all those months ago had Mason known peace.

Peace that he had found in her, and peace that he had lost, never to be found again, the realization of that never threatening to overwhelm him.

Mariana was gone, and he was never going to see her again. A fact that he was yet to face properly, even with all the time that had passed.

Part of the reason for that was the anger that seemed to consume him at all points, as all his senses seemed to take in more and more around him, and the scrapping thought of revenge.

Would revenge get her back? It might not, but the rouges were not going to take her from him and expect to get away with it. It was something that he would never be able to stand.

It had been what he had put his whole divided attention ever since it had happened, because he knew if he had to focus on all that he had lost, it would be too much.

And he did not realize what exactly she meant to him before, and the realization of that had seemed to have stabbed him in the chest and twisted the blade.

How could have taken so long to realize it? It was right in front of him the entire time, but he had pushed it away, not fully understanding it at the time.

But understand did he now, and part of Mason wished he did not. Perhaps that would make this gaping wound hurt less.

Or maybe it would still hurt as deeply as this, even if that mattered.

Sometimes, his mind had wandered off to that mission, where he had lost more then he knew that he had in the first place.

She had been at his side at the beginning, cracking jokes underneath her breath, which was a sign of just how nervous she was. Mariana normally did not do so unless she was trying to hide how scared she really was, never wanting to look weak in front of the others, but he had seen through that.

And while words may have never been his forte, it had not stopped him from trying to make eye contact with her dark hazel eyes, a silent gesture to ask if she was alright.

Picking up on it, she had given him a small, genuine smile, not her usual wide, lazy grin, as if it doing so had comforted her, and it had taken him until afterward as to why that had made him feel a certain way, a way that had confused him for so long.

Mason had not been worried about the upcoming mission much, believing that she would take it fine. She had already taken so much shit thrown at her and was still doing just as well as she had done from the beginning. From every supernatural after her blood to the trappers, she had taken it all in strid, and he had no doubts that she could do the same now.

Of course, there was that small bit of doubt that he had, not in her, but in just how it would go, and he was not sure just why he had them before.

But, as he was soon to find out, there was a reason as to why he felt that way.

And it was almost more then he could bear just so soon after she died.

The rouges had attacked them first, and the two of them had been by each other’s side through most of it, Mariana holding her own in the fight quite well, her general combat skills and her supernatural combat training paying for itself a thousand times over.

It was going so well, and victory had seemed obvious, until it all had fallen apart in an instant.

Mason knew it the second that he saw her fall to the ground, that she was gone. He had fell right down next to her, almost as blind hope that he was mistaken, but he was not. The sudden barrage on his senses had been enough to tell him exactly what had happened, the lights getting brighter and the sounds of the fight seeming to ring in his ears.

This was almost completely drowned out by the adrenaline that started to course through his veins, with only one thought in his head.

Make them pay.

He could hardly remember what happened later, everything almost coming to him a blur, the sounds coming from the assailants seeming to be coming from underwater.

Dozens had fallen at his feet, but it was hardly what he was paying attention to, constantly trying to move forward and get the next one, not satisfied until every single one of them were on the ground.

It had taken Nate reaching out and grabbing his shoulders, gentle but a sense of firmness to it, as to bring him back into the moment, and he did not fight him long before eventually relenting, looking at the scene before him, trying to avoid looking at Mariana.

Perhaps he was afraid of what he might see, see what he had feared most, but did not realize it at the time. There was a weight forming in his chest, almost as if a sob was starting to fill in his chest.

Once Agent Gonzales had arrived, he finally got the nerve to do it, watching her kneel over her daughter, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The two of them had never been close, but they were actually working on their relationship, not that was any of his business.

But to build a relationship with someone, just to have it ripped away…

That had been what had happened, and it took him so long for him to see.

He did in fact have deeper feelings for her, perhaps actual love, something that he would have never known that he could or would have.

And it left a feeling of emptiness in his chest, a gaping hole that would never be filled. Ever again.

The only way that he could deal with emptiness?

Anger

It had taken the others to almost drag him out of there in order to leave, and once they had finally had gotten back to the roof, as if he would find some semblance of her there.

But it was just cold, not a sign of her in sight, and looking for one proved fruitless.

Mason had still been not been able to visit her grave, as if avoiding it all together would have meant it never happened, and for now, he had no intention of going to it. The weight of her absence was enough.

He longed for her to be here, more then he would ever know how to deal with. He wanted to shake his head at one of sarcastic jokes, a chuckle in his throat anyway, see her get on Adam’s last nerve, and to be able to just be there with her. No words needed, but he never minded listening to her fill the silence. She could ramble for hours, and he would listen to her every word, clinging onto them as if would be the last time that he would ever hear them.

But no amount of wanting did anything, she was gone. The sudden cut of what they still needed to figure out together had been driving him insane, as it seemed locked in his head with no place to get out.

The others had tried to talk to him over the last few months, but it had never lasted long. Mason still felt like he could not talk to anyone about what he was feeling, as if that would let too much out, and he was not sure if he would ever fully recover if he did. It more then he could handle.

There was the attempt, at least, of him trying to convey that it did mean something to him after failing to tell Mariana what it was starting to mean for him, as if he just wanted them to know, but he was never good at that sort of thing. He would have to trust that they would understand it anyway.

He had long tried to find a semblance of her, her apartment, her room at the warehouse, her office at the station, but there seemed to be nowhere that he found that peace again, no matter how much he had tried.

Mason had spent hours there, trying to look for a trace in the places that her laugh still seemed to linger sometimes, but it was never a comfort to the anger that forever crawled inside of him.

At first, it was most certainly directed toward the trappers, but over time, it had started to be more so directed at himself, and the feelings that seemed to crawl at him at every turn.

Mariana meant more to him then he could possibly ever understand, or even try to. Never had he felt this before, wanting to build someone up, be there with the thick and thins of life, even when things got tough beyond belief. Part of him hoped, that if this had not ended in the way that it did, that it would have been something that she would have wanted as well.

And would have finally let him make sense of everything that was consuming him now more then ever, its ways that seemed to be even worse by the raw pain of grief.

Sometimes, he thought of what he would say to her if she was here now, try to put it all into words, hoping that they would be enough to figure out what exactly it all was, and he tried to imagine her reaction.

When they had first met, she seemed to be looking for the same thing that he was in a relationship, uncomplicated, just some fun, nothing deeper, but that had changed, had it not? For the both of them.

There were definite hints of it all, that he could not deny at all, but it was like they were both figuring it out, petrified that would not mean the same for the other.

But it had all been more then enough to know, even if it had long confused him.

And now he had nowhere to take those feelings, letting them boil inside until it overwhelmed him.

The night was quiet were he stood outside the warehouse, but his ears still seemed to ring anyway, a constant pain that never seemed to have left him since Mariana had been gone.

Anger, what had consumed him since it had happened, he was not sure what it was directed to anymore. Maybe at himself more then anyone else, but it hardly mattered.

He was breaking, on the verge of being broken, and there was nothing he could do to calm it. That was all so far out of reach, and he had lost all strength to try.

And there was that feeling, to having had gained everything to just to lose it all. To gain the entire world in a person, the person who never failed to intrigue him, wanting to learn more and more about, someone who finally made some things make sense for all of that to be gone so quick that he had barely had the chance to catch his breath.

Mason still had that urge, to softly be with her, to love her in a way that he would have never thought he could, but he had no place to bring that love. It was forced to be trapped inside, never to be seen the light of day, or by anyone else. The other person who he would ever want to show it to was gone.

He had lost everything, having all that he needed right in front of him, in an instant, never for it to be found again.

And he knew that for the rest of his immortal life, this ache was never going to go away. For all the words left inside, and time cut far too soon.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven chronicles #twc #detective mariana gonzales #twc mason #mason x detective #mason x mariana #yep this is it #I cried writing all of these #and the other three are just as bad #so there is that to look forward to?

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lunewell · 3 years

Text

The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 2

Part 1 can be found here

Word Count: 1688 words

Written for MerMay

CW: Attempted Drowning

Can also be read on Wattpad

This is Part 2 of The Norwegian Mermaid Association, and follows Morten, who after his discovery of mermaids, goes to find a mermaid of his own.

For someone who’s entire world view had just been shattered, Morten was coping surprisingly well with it. It had been about a month since the mermaid incident, and only a brief breakdown later he was already alright.

Well, actually, more than alright. This discovery had awakened Mortens childhood love and curiosity of the supernatural, and he often found himself wandering through mossy forests or enthralled in the depths of the sea, wondering what was hidden around him. Some might consider it a problem, the way he seemed to find it harder and harder to focus on the fishing, more and more caught in the ripples of the waves, but Morten found it nothing short of delightful.

His co-workers, however, were not quite as happy as himself. They couldn’t bring themselves to be angry at him, as they had all at one point or another experienced the shock, but they were rather annoyed. Morten couldn’t blame them, not really. He was well aware of how much of a nuisance he was being right now.

Which is why, it came to him as little surprise, when Thomas approached him with an offer; “why don’t you take a little break from work?” he asked one day, leaning on the rail of the small fishing boat next to him, “you’ve been awfully distracted lately, and I think you need some time to think.”

Morten started into the waves, biting his lips. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the waves hiding so many secrets, even if he was slowly getting on everyone’s nerves. He twiddled his thumbs, stiff and quite tense. After a while had passed in silence, he heard a sigh next to him. “If it helps,” Thomas began, voice lowered, “you could always take a break at a more… tempting spot. There’s a mermaid hotspot not too far from here, it’s where we met our wives.”

Morten eyes lit up at that. He himself had little interest in the wife part, but even the idea that he would be able to communicate with one or the creatures was more than enticing. Thomas smirked, clearly having picked up on his excitement; “I’ll give you the directions when we get back to shore.”

———————————-

Though he considered himself rather mature, Morten was vibrating like a sugar-high child. The spruce trees around the large lake and river mouth stood tall and proud in the slightly overcast sky, and though he had yet to even see a singular mermaid, he could hear their chattering and laughing flowing through the wind.

Following the voices through soft grass and over sun-bleached rocks, it wasn’t long before he was but branches away from his desired destination. Quite literally, in fact, as the only thing obscuring the creatures was a few branches of an oak tree.

With a deep breath, he reached out to the soft leaves hanging off the solid tree, and pulled it to one side.

It was not the first time Morten saw mermaids, his breath still caught like rock in his throat. Spread all around the shore, there were five mermaids with brightly coloured tails in hues of purple, blue, red, and green that scales sparkled majestically, all having flowing hair and distinctly non-human traits that were so awe-inspiring that he couldn’t stop himself starring. They were joking playfully between themselves, an odd language that sounded reminiscent of an odd dialect of Old Norse.

One of them- the one with night-coloured curls and a spotty, grey, rainbow-hued tail, saw him gaping and gave a playful, but undoubtedly mischievous smile. She turned around to the group speaking rapidly, before hushed voices giggling, before all eyes and tails turned to him.

“Hello,” he whispered a bit unsure of himself, “I was wondering if you would be willing to, uh, tell me a little bit more about your species.”

Another round of looks were exchanged between the girls, before the spotty one looked up with a grin, and answered him not in Old Norse but in perfect Norwegian; “why, of course. Why don’t you come with us into the water, and we can discuss it in full…”

A feeling of fear, a gut deep feeling carved from years of reading about the spirits in the water, coursed through him. And yet, there was something in her voice- safe, trusting, melodic, and lulling like the waves, that made him instantly comply and step towards the high waves.

His feet stumbled closer, while his sub-conscious screamed that something was deeply wrong, and his heart began to race. It wasn’t long before he felt the first drop of water wet the tip of his shoes that he had been too unaware to take off, and it was an even shorter amount of time before he felt it spill over and onto his socks.

The shock of the icy water against his skin snapped him out of the trance just in time to see a series of sharp claws lunging out toward him. He tried to leap away, heart hammering, but ten hands had already grappled and dug deep into his skin, the water around him turning a light red, and submerged him underwater. His nostrils burned from the water as he wiggled desperately, lashing and thrashing hopelessly as the mermaids kept ripping his clothes and skin.

He was going to die here, in this watery grave, shredded by hostile mermaids. He could already see the vision blackening at the edges, and as a sharp claw gripped tightly around his throat, he closed his wet eyes and prayed that his death was not too far away.

Then, like a prayer answered, everything stopped.

For a good second, he’d thought he’d died. He no longer felt cold- in fact he was surprisingly warm, and though he was sore, he was surrounded by an odd sense of tranquility that could only be explained by a fading soul.

“Are you alright?” a soft, mellow voice asked gently, and Morten realised for the first time that the hammering around him was not the grasps of hands but his own, very alive, beating heart. He hesitantly pried his eyes open, fully expecting to stare at death. In all fairness, based on the way his heart leaped at the sight in front of him, it might as well have been death.

A blonde man- no- merman, with warm brown eyes which looked at him in a way that made his heart melt, had pushed him safely on the shore and was now cradling his body. Half the creatures cheat was covered by not scales, but inhuman skin that connected to a tail which he immediately recognised as one of a porpoise harbour.

He was the most beautiful thing Morten had ever seen.

“Sorry about them,” the stranger said, in a tone that sounded completely genuine, “not all of us respect your species, and I promise we’re not all like that.” He trailed off, giving another blinding smile that made Morten’s pulse go on cocaine, before finally reaching out a blue skinned hand; “I’m Kjell, and you my darling human are?”

“M-m- Morten,” he mumbled, mind still caught at darling human, “I uh, yeah. My name is Morten.”

“Morten. That’s a gorgeous name,” Kjell said with a little wink that’s sheer charisma could kill a man. “So, what brings someone like you out here?”

A pang of uncertainty hit him, unsure of whether to tell this merman- the same species that had violently attacked him earlier- the reasons for his visit. However, looking at the violent hues of caramel and chocolate in Kjell's eyes, he could see nothing but genuine curiosity and a playful and friendly twinkle.

Plus, he honestly didn’t know if he had the resilience to deny that face.

“I’m actually here to learn more about your kind and other potential folklore creatures,” Morten explained, “I only found out about the existence of otherworldly creatures- or, uh, people, I suppose, so there’s a lot I want to learn.”

He was rewarded for his honesty, by Kjell lighting up like a Bonfire. “Oh!” he exclaimed, grabbing Morten’s cold hands in his own warm ones, “you should have told me earlier! I love heaving humans about my culture, and I have an entire cave of artefacts and cultural items! It’s under the water- don’t worry, there’s air- and I could take you down if you want.”

Morten, far too occupied by his companions stupid grin and his warm hands, was about to reply the quickest yes of his life, before Kjell interrupted him with a gasp. “I’m sorry,” the merman apologised, letting go of his hands, “I completely forgot that my kind tried to drown you. You probably don’t want to go right back after such a traumatic experience, and certainly not with someone like…” he gestured to his tail, “me.”

A part of him- the one who had gone for the safe choice of a fisherman in a largely fish centered city- wanted to agree with Kjell, and forget this day ever happened. After all, even if he truly admired Kjell, they were both still men, and it was probably safest for the both of them if they just forgot meeting.

However, a much more selfish, and deep part of him already knew what he wanted. Meeting Kjell’s eyes- and with warm cheeks- he gave his answer; “please, take me down there. I trust you.”

That was all Kjell needed, before he dragged them both back into the water. Unlike the mermaids, Kjell was not so much gripping as holding him- tight enough to be led but loose enough as to be easy to escape, the fingers stroking up and down his wrist in a repetitive motion. And as they dived deeper, Kjell leading him along in what was almost a gentle waltz in the water, occasionally shooting a reassuring smile, Morten understood why all the seamen dated mermaids, and got the feeling that he might be seeing Kjell a whole lot more in the future.

#mermay #mermaid #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #mlm

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ms-rampage · 3 years

Text

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 5 - The 4 Steps

Warnings: Mandy being an actual mother towards John, Angst.

Word count: 2.5k

Where it all began.

Summary: Mandy goes through the 4 steps of joining the Cult to claim the name, and role as The Mother.

Guest OCs:

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael (Supernatural), God/Chuck [mentioned].

Note: This takes place in 2012.

**********************************************

The next morning Mandy wakes up, expecting to see Joseph laying next to her.

Waking up in an empty bed, she looks over at the clock on the nightstand, 6:57am.

She groans, getting out of bed, going to the bathroom in her and Joseph’s shared house.

Doing her business, washing her hands, she hears footsteps outside the bathroom coming from their room.

“Joseph?” she calls out, waiting for a response.

She opens the bathroom door, poking her out, looking around. No one there.

She looks around the small house.

Still no one there, Joseph must’ve left early for his sermon.

It’s weird because you figured he would have woken her up.

Since she’s a part of their family now, and she plays an important role in the Project.

Not thinking anything about it, she goes to the kitchen, and makes some coffee.

As she’s filling the kettle with water, a shuffling sound comes from the bedroom.

“Hello?!?” she calls out again, “Joseph?”.

Putting the kettle down on the burner. Investigating the suspicious movements.

She goes over to her and Joseph’s room, the door magically closed.

Knowing well she had left it open. She slowly opens the door, and finds it empty.

No one there. She checks the closet, no one in there.

She sees that the window had been open a bit, she goes to shut it, and locks it.

“I see he’s treating you well” a familiar voice says from behind her.

Mandy nearly jumps out of her skin, and nearly throws a copy of The Book of Joseph at the Archangel, stopping herself.

She lets out an annoyed huff, “Raph?!?! What are you doing here?!?”.

He looks around the room, “Joseph. I see he’s treating you well”.

Still annoyed that this Archangel just showed up unexpectedly like the majority of angels, and demons do.

“Yeah? So what?” she asks, annoyance in her voice.

“I just came by to see how you’re doing” he says.

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking” she says, sarcastically.

She leaves the room, and goes back to the kitchen.

“I can see why God chose you to gain Joseph’s trust” he says, “You have that fiery, intense attitude that every man wants in a woman”.

Mandy scoffs, “Is that really why Chuck chose me?!?”.

“He has many reasons. That one is a very very minor one” he replies, taking a seat.

“So why are you really here?!?” she asks, while pouring coffee into her mug.

“Mainly to check up on you. Chuck wanted to make sure you weren’t screwing up”.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re angels. Can’t you just hear my thoughts all the way up in cloud city?!”.

“Yeah. but physically seeing you is always better for us” he says, shrugging his left shoulder.

Confused, but she goes with it.

“Umm, okay?. Do you know where Joseph went?” she asks, before drinking her coffee.

“He’s at his brother's church. He wanted to bring you along, but he wanted you to sleep in” he answers.

“You spoke with him?!?” she asks, her eyes slightly widened.

He shakes his head, “No, Chuck doesn’t want us to communicate in any way with him or his siblings. Only I can communicate with you. Unless I have one of my brothers do it for me”.

“What happens if Joseph sees you?!” she asks, hesitantly. Eyebrows raised.

“I wipe his memory of me, and whoever else sees me”.

She tilts her head at the Archangel, “Really? Not killing them?!?”.

He shakes his head, “No I can’t kill them. I can’t kill you either, well I can actually but God said I’m not allowed to, and neither can the other angels”.

Mandy finishes off her coffee, “Well I think-” she gets interrupted by a sudden knock at the door.

“Mother Amanda?!” a female voice asks.

Mandy turns to the door, and immediately back to Raphael who is now gone.

“Great” she whispers in annoyance at the celestial being.

She opens the door, and is greeted by a female cultist.

“Yes?” she responds.

“Father Joseph wanted me to bring you this” she says, handing her a white dress.

“Thank you” she responds with a smile.

“He also wanted me to tell you about your baptism this afternoon” she says.

“Oh okay” she says,

“It’s gonna be at the Lamb of God Sacristy” she tells her, “Joseph wanted to cleanse you himself”.

Mandy nods, “Okay that’s fine with me. I look forward to it”.

The cultist leaves, Mandy shuts the door behind her.

Taking a look at the dress.

It’s a beautiful white full length dress with long lace sleeves.

Almost similar to the one she wore when she got married to Joel, 20 years earlier.

Giving her flashbacks to when she was actually happy, and her husband was still alive.

******************************

A few hours later, Mandy gets dressed for her baptism.

Putting on her white dress, barefooted.

A black SUV enters the compound. Pulling up in front of the church.

She leaves the house, and goes into the vehicle.

Sitting in the back along with a few other female cultists.

Driving down the road towards the Lamb of God church in Holland Valley.

Looking out the window of the vehicle, watching her life go down this somewhat dark path.

Arriving at the church, being helped out by a few cultists so her dress won’t expose her privates because it was very windy that day.

She was told to wear the dress without a bra, and panties on.

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable because of the cool breeze, and the water was very choppy.

Joseph waits for her by the water. Wearing an all white suit, similar to the suit he would often wear.

He wanted to cleanse her himself, God wanted him to do this.

Walking towards the water, he reaches out for her hands.

She takes his hands, he guides her into the water. Ankle deep so far.

He places a kiss on her forehead, everyone minus Jacob is there.

John who is helping Joseph with the ceremony, Faith who made several Bliss flower bouquets, and crowns for the ceremony. Also supply the bliss for the water.

Jacob would’ve probably slaughtered some animal for the ceremony meal afterwards.

“Are you ready my love?” Joseph asks, his forehead against hers.

“Yes” she responds.

He guides her further into the water. Waist deep now.

Joseph places one more kiss on her forehead, as John reads from the Book of Joseph.

“Let the water purify your soul. Let it cleanse you, and free you of sin. Let God’s guidance free you of sin, and you will become pure again”.

Joseph places one hand on her waist, and the other on her upper back.

Holding her underwater for a few seconds.

Her vision blurry, the bliss infused water filling her lungs.

The sun shining down on her as she’s underwater.

He pulls her back up, she gasps for air. He moves her hair away from her face.

“How do you feel?” Joseph asks, moving her hair back.

Her vision disoriented, everything looks like it's in 3D, blue and red colors.

“I-I feel great” she says, panting.

He kisses her again but this time on her lips.

****************************

4 days later, Mandy goes through the next step on being The Mother of Eden’s Gate, her Confession. It shouldn’t be hard right?!.

She has to confess her sins to John, but Joseph isn’t going to be there to witness it.

You figured he would since she’s technically his “wife”.

John had some of his men get Mandy, and take her to his gate.

They couldn’t take her by force because she’s in favor of being The Mother, and Joseph wouldn’t like his Children manhandling her at all.

They arrive at John’s gate for her confession.

When she enters the building John is right there waiting for her.

He smirks at her, “Good, you’re here”.

“Yeah I’m here. So now what?” she says.

“It’s time for your confession” he says, walking her down a hallway.

They enter a room that resembles a torture chamber.

“So what?, you gonna torture me or what?!” she asks, looking back at him.

He chuckles at her comment, “I’m just gonna use this” he shows her, holding up a tattoo needle, “and I’m gonna put your sin onto your skin. Then you’ll be free”.

“I thought this was a confession?!” she asks, suspiciously.

He hums “Amazing Grace” as he sets up his equipment, “Oh it is, and it's also your atonement”.

She stands 5 feet behind him, arms crossed, looking like a disappointed mother.

Although she’s not intentionally doing this at him, it's a permanent look for her.

Once he sets up everything, he turns to face her. Tilting his head like a confused child.

“Why so disappointed?!” he asks, sounding like a child who upsetted his mother.

She shrugs, “I’m not, it's just my face. It’s normal for me to look disappointed, when you become a parent you’ll understand”.

He chuckles, “I don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon”.

He grabs the needle off the table, and says “I don’t really see myself being a parent”.

She nods, “Yeah I didn’t see myself getting married, or having kids either. It changes you”.

John looks away, looking down at the tools on the table. He’s trying not to let her words get to him.

But they do anyway, he clears his throat and says, “You- you’re different. A lot different from my mother”.

Mandy, just from looking at the back of his head, she can see the sadness in his posture.

“I’m guessing she wasn’t the best?!” she asks, slowly walking up to him.

“Trauma, abuse. That’s all I’m gonna say’ he says, as he slightly pushes Mandy onto a chair.

“You’re the way you are because of them” she says to him. Holding back tears, he takes a deep breath.

“So Amanda?” he slowly approaches her, “Are you going to say yes?”.

“For consent?” she asks.

“What sins do you have to confess?!” he tells her.

She looks down at the floor for a moment, her mind wanders off into space.

“What sins do you confess? What bad things have you done that you wish to relieve yourself from?” he asks, leaning against a table.

She looks around as she reminisces all the bad stuff she’s done.

“I um- I confess” she looks around once again, her mind going foggy.

Tears began to form in her eyes, “Several months ago when I lost custody of my daughters, we were living in Des Moine, Iowa, and they were at a high school in the city. My youngest daughter, one of her teachers, saw a bunch of bruises, scars and cuts on her arms and hands. The teacher reported it to Child Protective Services, and the police showed up at our home. They took them, I’m not allowed to see them until they turn 18. My youngest told me the name of the teacher that reported it”.

She stops talking, tears streaming down her face, she looks down at the floor.

“Yes?” John says, wanting her to continue her confession.

“I went to the school that same night, and I-” she starts to cry even more.

“Yes? What else happened?” he asks, his voice calm. Placing his hand on her shoulder.

She looks up at him, and says “I killed her, I bashed her head in with a textbook. I buried her body, and the book in the woods a few miles away from the school. I was so angry, I had my husband taken from me, and then my girls”.

She looks down at her hands, tears falling into them.

“Wrath” John says softly, “Your sin is Wrath, it eats at you, it controls what you feel, it eats away at you. Any other sins you want to confess?”.

He asks, moving her hair away from her face behind her ear. Keeping his hand on her back of her head, rubbing circular motions in her hair.

“Pride, because I take pride, too much pride in what I do. I think I’m helping people but all I do is make things worse. I did kill that woman, that teacher because of my own Greed, my own selfishness. I didn’t even stop to think if she had a family or anything. I let my own emotions, feelings take control. I ruined her family because she ruined mine”.

He moves his hand from her head to her shoulder.

“Wrath, Pride, Greed” he says as he starts up the tattoo needle, “Wrath would look nice right here” he points to her chest.

He leans her back, and tattoos Wrath on her chest.

W, then R, A, T and finally H.

It’s not the worst pain she’s ever experienced. It stings, but childbirth is a lot more painful in the moment than getting a tattoo. Of your sin, that will live on your skin forever unless you cover them up.

“Only two more sins, then you’ll be free” he tells her, “Greed will look nice on your left arm”.

He rolls up the sleeves of her shirt, and tattoos her second sin on her left arm.

G, R, E,E then D.

“Just one more sin” he says, wiping her arm.

“Okay” she says, voice trembling.

P, R, I, D and lastly E.

The most sorta painful moment of her life, time seemed to slow down during this whole moment.

“You’re all finished my dear” he says.

Mandy looks down at her arms, Greed and Pride on her arms.

“So is that it?” she asks, wiping away her tears.

“That’s it. You’re all done, most don’t survive, and I gotta say, if most sinners acted more like you. Well behaved, calm and just accept the Power of Yes, they wouldn’t have to endure all the pain, and suffering they get when they resist, or refuse. It’ll make everything a lot easier”.

Mandy looks over at him, and says, “Well I’m The Mother, and I can’t resist”.

She stands up from her seat, and approaches him. Placing her hand on his forearm. Giving him a mother’s loving touch.

“I know deep down you’re a good kid John, maybe if you didn’t go through what you went through as a child your life would be so much different now. But then you would’ve never met me, and I know you wouldn’t know your purpose in this life. But, all you need is a caring parent that’ll never do you harm. My life wasn’t easy growing up, my parents were away from me and my sister. A lot, working”.

She stops, and leaves the room. Leaving John to sink in, and process her motherly words.

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