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faustian-familiar · 4 years

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Not Tonight, Sweetheart

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Female Apprentice

18 +. THIS ONE IS ABSOLUTELY FILTHY. Julian decides that MC is going to be the sub tonight. Light bondage. Light dom/sub. Manhandling. Spanking.

Julian and I clamber into our house, supporting one another as we stumble through the door shrieking with laughter. The Rowdy Raven had lived up to its name tonight, and we were both boisterous from the alcohol. We fall together onto the couch, and Julian pulls me into his lap, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You are brighter and more beautiful than the moon, my love!” he slurs, sweeping his other arm out in a dramatic flourish. “The bards sing in palace courts of your radiance!”

“Oh no, Julian! Are you going to sing for me?” I’m overcome with a fit of giggles and push him playfully. He feigns innocence, looking shocked.

“Me? How did you know? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent singer!” He strikes a ridiculous pose and belts out a long, loud note.

“OHHHH Wrap your legs ‘round me and dig in your heels, for the closer we get, oh, the better it feels!”

“JULIAN!”

I dig my fingers into his shoulders and shove him down onto his back. He laughs heartily, and a light blush paints his cheeks as I pin him.

“Is that supposed to discourage me?” he teases. “Because it only makes me want to do it more.” He grins up at me, wiggling his eyebrows. “The birds they were singing in the bushes and trees, and the song that they sang was ‘she’s easy to please!’”

His eyes are sparkling with mischief as he sings. There’s only one way to shut him up when he gets like this.

I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head to the side, exposing a tantalizing swath of pale neck. Julian’s voice dies in his throat as I lower my head and bite down on him hard. I feel his lanky body squirming in pleasure between my legs. I release the pressure for a moment, then clamp my teeth down again on the same spot, making Julian whimper.

“Oh,” he breathes, his hips rolling up to meet me. “No encore, then.”

I sit up and unbutton his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his broad, toned torso.

“I’ll find something else for you to do with your mouth,” I reply.

I call on my magic, gathering electricity in my palms, and lay both hands flat on his chest. Julian’s back arches as he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands slide up my thighs, massaging my hips, and drift under the hem of my top so his cool fingers graze my bare skin. I slide my hands down his chest, relishing the way it rises and falls so rapidly at my touch, and work the sensation down to his stomach. His cock is already stiff against his thigh, making an unmistakable ridge under his pants.

I lift my hands off of his body to dispel the electricity, then raise the temperature in my hands until they are burning hot. I reach out with a single finger and touch it to the dip above his belly button. He moans earnestly, and when I lift my finger, a small, crimson circle raises on his skin. I draw a circle around his belly button, emboldened by his urgent moans, then brush my searing fingers over the bulge in his pants. Julian tosses his head back and cries out in pleasure. I grip him over the fabric and slide my hand up and down his length. He lifts his head to gaze up at me, biting his lip, completely undone by my ministrations.

“Mmm,” I murmur. “Look at how hard you are for me already.” I squeeze his member and it throbs once in my hand.

“I’m going to make you beg for it, Julian,” I say. He gives me an inscrutable expression - a glint appears in his eyes, and he lifts one eyebrow. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

Before I can try to guess his meaning, his hands have darted up my sides and grip me under the armpits. In one quick, fluid motion, he lifts me off of him and tosses me backwards, so I land heavily on my back, insulated by the couch’s cushions. I look up at him, eyes wide. His smile is shamelessly wicked as he positions himself above me.

“Tonight, my dear, you’re going to do as you’re told.”

He descends on me, sliding a hand under my neck to cradle my head, his lips locking with mine in a deep, passionate kiss. He kisses me over and over, each taste of his lips raising the heat between us, each small, muffled sound he makes stoking my desire. His body moves against mine with slow thrusts, so that our loins rub against each other through our clothes. He’s taking his time with me.

I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and run my other hand up his arm until I’m cupping his face. I’m not expecting it when he reaches up and clamps his hand around my wrist.

He tears my hand away from his face and breaks off the kiss, sitting up and stretching my arm above my head. He takes my other hand and stretches that arm above my head, joining my wrists.

“You want to know the wonderful thing about sailing?” he purrs. “You learn all kinds of knots.”

He holds my wrists together and reaches into his back pocket with his other hand, producing a length of red silken rope. He hums to himself as he goes about binding my wrists, and when he’s finished, I tug experimentally at the rope. I’m completely at his mercy.

“That’s not too tight, is it?” he asks.

I grin at him. “After all the things I’ve done to you in bed?” I laugh, then soften at his worried expression. “I’ll tell you if anything is wrong, Julian. I want this. I want you.”

He reaches down and scoops me up, lifting me into a sitting position. He arranges himself on the couch, his long legs spread nonchalantly, and then pulls me over onto his lap. I’m on my knees and elbows, with his erection poking into my stomach. He smooths his hand over the curve of my ass.

“You want me, huh? I’m afraid it’ll take a little more convincing than that if you want my cock.”

He pushes the hem of my skirt up so it bunches up at my lower back and exposes my haunches, then hooks a finger in my underwear and yanks them down. His hand caresses the round, pert muscle for a long moment, and then I feel his hand move away and come back down with a hard smack.

The jolt of pain surprises me, but what surprises me even more is how it seems to travel straight to my clit. He spanks the other cheek, the sound ringing through the room, and I whimper for him, prompting a low, satisfied sound from him.

He gives my buttocks three hard spanks in a row, and then runs his hand over the raw flesh.

“Look at how rosy you’re getting,” he says. “I can see my handprint on you.”

He strikes again, making my toes curl, then traces his fingers down and between my legs. His middle finger slides along my slit, spreading my lips apart and coating his finger in my arousal. He massages my clit with languorous strokes.

“Ohohoho, what’s this?” he remarks. “You’re so wet, my dear. Is this because of me?”

I swing my head around and open my mouth to say some barb in response, but Julian quickly embeds his finger deep into my cunt, so all that comes out is a lewd noise. He kneads my bud with his thumb and works his finger in and out of me, making exhilarating waves of pleasure kindle inside me.

“Mmmm,” he says, watching my face with a lusty expression. “How I’d love to ravage you right here and now.”

He never stops working my clit as he reaches down and gathers up a large fistful of my hair, tugging my head back.

“But I don’t think you’ve earned my cock just yet.”

“Oh, Julian,” I moan. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

He chuckles, increasing the pace on his expert fingers.

“That’s more like it,” he quips. “No wonder you enjoy doing this to me. You’re coming undone with just a finger. Imagine what you’re going to feel like when I’m buried to the hilt inside your cunt.”

My walls shudder around his thrusting appendage. I feel the spring between my thighs tightening, my breath becoming shallow. Julian apparently realizes what’s happening, and pulls his hand away from my sex. He uses my hair as a rein, turning my face toward him so I watch as he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth, his steely grey eyes staying on mine as he licks up my juices.

His fingers come out with a wet pop, and the next strike to my buttocks lands hard, making me squeal and nearly jump out of his lap. My pussy is drenched, the slickness spreading over my thighs, as I watch Julian’s eyes rove over my body, and he bites his lip.

He releases my hair and slides his arm below my body, so his forearm is under my ribs. Without warning, he quickly stands up from the couch, spinning me in his arms and hefting me over his shoulder. He hooks his arm across the back of my knees, leaving my top half hanging helplessly down his back.

“I think I’m in the mood for another beer,” he says casually. He carries me to the kitchen and retrieves a cold glass bottle, pausing to take a long swig. We make our way to the bedroom, where Julian tips forward, dumping me onto my back so I land on our mattress with my legs hanging over the side. I stare up at him with wide eyes, at his smoldering stare, the flush of desire on his face, his open shirt and the pants straining against his member. He regards me silently, taking in my body hungrily as brings the frosty bottle back up to his lips, enjoying a long drink without taking his eyes off of me, as though he were drinking me down instead. He approaches slowly, standing between my legs as a devilish smile grows on his face. He grips the bottle by the neck and presses it to my inner thigh. I yelp at the sudden cold, and feel my walls throb. He lifts the bottle and takes another sip, then places the side of the bottle against the side of my knee and slides it up my leg. My muscles contract automatically at the icy feeling as I whimper. It quickly becomes a gasp when the bottle finishes its journey and nestles on my flower. The shock is euphoric, making my hips buck up and grind my clit against the smooth, wet surface.

He pulls the bottle away, and I feel how cold my skin is - especially when Julian drops to his knees and seals his hot mouth over my clit. My hands strain against my bonds, but the rope doesn’t even budge. Julian grips my thighs and pushes them apart, plundering my depths savagely with his tongue, working my pleasure into a frenzy.

I try to squirm under him, to meet his mouth with my hips, but his fingers dig into my flesh hard enough to sting, pinning me to the bed.

“Julian...oh gods...”

The orgasm consumes my every nerve, making all thoughts vanish from my mind until all that exists is my bliss and the presence of the man that gave it to me.

The pulses of my walls are beginning to subside when Julian stands and bends down, grips me by the neck, and pulls me up to sit on the edge of the bed. His need, making a tent at the front of his clothes, is apparent before my eyes. His teeth are bared into a snarl. He curls his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck, pulling my face into his bulge. I’m giddy with pleasure, and rub my cheek affectionately across the hardness in his pants. I wrap my lips around the engorged head and lap at it with my tongue, tasting fabric but desperate for his cock.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he growls. “Can you take it?”

I lift my face to stare up at him in awe, nuzzling his crotch.

“Please, Julian,” I whimper. “Please fuck me.”

He lowers his voice to a rumble, rubbing his length against my face.

“Beg me.”

My tongue darts out of my mouth, stroking him through his clothes and leaving a large wet stain on the fabric.

“I’m begging you, Julian. I’m begging you to fuck me.”

He undresses in front of me, revealing his massive, glistening member, and puts both hands on the back of my head, tangling his fingers into my hair.

“Come here,” he says. He brings me close enough to suck on the head, which I take greedily into my mouth and swirl my tongue around. Julian groans fiercely, his knees buckling for a brief moment before catching himself. He lowers my mouth onto himself inch by inch, until my nose is pressed against the flat of his stomach. He slides in and out, holding my head and thrusting into my throat, keening at the sensations my mouth is giving him.

He pulls himself out of my mouth with a moan, his face pink with desire, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He is quick to push me onto my back and scramble on top of me, lining himself up between my legs so the head of his cock presses against my drenched lips. He holds my attention with his eyes, which seem to shine with a passionate fire.

“You’re going to take every bit of it.”

He snaps his hips forward, plummeting his entire length into me. We cry out together in satisfaction, my slick pussy offering no resistance as he arches into me. His eyes flutter closed as his mouth drops open, the sound he utters so primal my walls pulse automatically around him.

He begins to thrust in and out of me with deep, powerful strokes, his brow knitted together in an expression of euphoric intensity.

He ruts into me faster, our bodies moving together of their own accord, too far gone to ever stop now.

“Take my cum,” he grunts.

“Julian, yes...”

Every muscle in his body seems to contract at once, his breath hitching in his throat, as his cock starts to pulse inside me. His eyes squeeze shut as he ferociously grips the sheets by my head, screaming my name as jet after jet of hot seed fills me, his momentum pushing me down into the mattress. His hipbones are flush with my thighs, as deep as he can bury himself in my depths. He collapses on top me, finally breathing.

We lay together in the glow of contentment for several minutes, catching our breath, and then Julian lifts himself up to untangle the knot that binds my wrists. He tosses the rope carelessly to the floor, then lays his head gently between my breasts. His body, normally so tightly wound, practically melts into me. He turns his face up to me, looking into my eyes with love. He brushes his thumb softly across my cheek.

“Did you like that?” he murmurs.

“Like it?” I exclaim. “Whatever got into you, I hope it gets into you again.”

He smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.” He sighs, settling back down. “Now I believe I was trying to sing you a song when you interrupted me...”

#the arcana game #the arcana #the arcana lemon #the arcana julian #julian devorak #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #lord forgive me for i have sinned #dom!julian

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

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Headstrong

Part Three

Summary: After moving past the locker room incident, Bucky and Haven continue on with training for an upcoming fight. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Word Count: 1895 Warnings: Angst; discussion of cancer, amputation, infidelity, drunk driving, car accident and related injuries. A/N: Taglist is open, you can be added to the one for this fic or Buckvember simply by sending an ask. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

Right after dinner, Haven put on a touch of makeup, smoothed out her shorts and t-shirt, and slipped into a pair of sneakers before telling Wes she was going out for a little bit.

When she entered the bar, she looked around for Bucky; he raised his right arm to get her attention at a booth toward the back of the place. She waved an acknowledgement, stopping at the counter to order a drink for herself before she joined him.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she started, sliding into the booth. “After this morning … honestly, I wanted to forget everything about it, but Wes said it’s probably best not to ignore it and let tension build up.”

Bucky nodded. “Sure, I can understand that. I hope you know, Haven, it was truly an honest mistake. I wasn’t paying attention, I’ve never been there before. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling softly. “I know it was a mistake — I was never worried about that. I wasn’t exactly gracious in my reaction, but you caught me off guard. I apologize for that.”

“No apology necessary.”

Her drink arrived. She thanked the waitress and took a few sips before continuing. “And I want to apologize for the way I declined your lunch invitation. We’re going to be working together closely and often, but I thought if I kept things more professional than I did with my last coach … it’s a self-preservation thing, I guess. I let things go too far with him, let it become personal. Too personal, and it almost cost me my career.”

Bucky assured her that he could understand. “Boxing was the most important thing to me, and it was taken away. Turns out, it takes two flesh arms to stay in the ring. I got lost for a while, hid away — I’m sure you heard about that. I’m pushing myself, taking this job and getting back into the business in any form. What I’m trying to say, Haven, is that we don’t have be best friends or anything, but, besides all the work together we’ll be doing, we’ve got some things in common. There’s going to be a personal note to our relationship, but even that doesn’t have to cross professional lines.”

“Thank you,” Haven told him quietly. The tension in her shoulders released and she continued to sip at her drink. She wanted to tell him more, but the words wouldn’t come. Something she was doing was giving her away because a few seconds later, Bucky’s warm fingers covered hers.

“When you’re ready to talk about the rest of it, we can. There’s no rush.”

Haven pulled her hand out from under his. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They finished off those drinks, and Haven paid the tab for both of them. They bid each other goodbye with a wave in the lot and went their separate ways.

For a couple of weeks, they kept things what Bucky called casually professional. They didn’t see each other outside of the gym again, he was extra careful about which locker room he went into at the end of each session, and he didn’t push her for any personal information. He didn't offer any, either.

Haven was getting stronger and more ready for a fight by the day. They hadn’t been training together long, but Bucky could see she was chomping at the bit to compete. Her punches were coming harder and faster when he called out combos, their sparring sessions were becoming more intense.

“There’s a fight in Los Angeles at the end of the month,” Bucky informed the siblings one afternoon after he and Haven had showered, and Wes was able to join them in the gym. “I think Haven can be ready by then. The other fighter on the card, Helen Cho, is also a newer pro and, from my research, I think she and Haven will be a good match.”

“You really think I’ll be ready?”

Bucky nodded with enthusiasm. “Without a doubt. Honestly, I’d put you in the ring against this girl today, if we had to. You’re a natural boxer and your lighter training while you recovered probably helped you to stay on track. What do you think?”

Haven looked at Wes, who nodded. “All right. I’m in.”

“Great,” Bucky smiled. “We’ll get you on the card and start training harder over the next couple of weeks. I want to be in Los Angeles a few days before the fight to do some training in their weather, get your body adapted to it.”

The next task was to contact the right people, find a flight and a hotel, and work out a temporary training schedule. They talked about nutrition, too; all of them wanted Haven in top fighting condition so her first pro fight could be a win.

While Bucky put the finishing touches on the training schedule, Haven and Wes quietly argued about something by the door. Wes finally won out after a few minutes, it seemed, and left the gym. Haven huffed, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if she stomped her foot for effect.

“Coach, do you have some time to talk before you leave,” Haven asked, blurting it out as a statement and not a question.

Bucky nodded and motioned for her to join him in the ring. They both sat on the edge of the ring, their legs hanging over. Haven leaned forward on the ropes. Bucky kicked his legs with his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for whatever it was she had to say. When two minutes passed and she hadn’t said anything, Bucky decided maybe it would be easier for her to open up to him if he opened up to her first.

“Right after I won my last title, I couldn’t shake the pain in my left arm,” Bucky began. “I did three more fights and it just got worse every time. Finally let my trainer convince me to get it checked out. Doc did x-rays and found a mass on my humerus.”

Haven frowned. “Cancer?”

“Cancer,” Bucky echoed. “It could have been removed and maybe beat with chemo, but I let it go on too long. I didn't want to hear that whatever was happening would end my career, but it did anyway. They had to take the arm, or it would have taken my life.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck.”

He smiled, both in gratitude for her empathy and because she hadn’t called him Coach. “The upside, I guess, is that being a prize fighter puts you in line for cutting-edge technology like this.” He flexed his prosthetic arm and a light whizzing came from inside the thing. “I can’t fight but I can function. And I’m alive.”

She sniffled, and Bucky could see that her eyes had glazed over. “Do you ever get angry that you can’t compete anymore?”

“Sometimes,” he confessed.

She leaned back on both arms. “I was so angry when I thought my career would be over. Punched a hole in the wall in my bedroom one day because I got so angry.” She looked up to the ceiling, so Bucky kept his eyes on his hands in his lap. “Brock Rumlow was my coach from the very beginning. I was training at this gym in town, straight out of high school, not even sure if I wanted to do this for real, and he was new to coaching. He told me I had potential, so my dad and Wes went all in. They built this gym, and the three of them got me into the amateur league. Brock was a good coach, until he wasn’t. A few years ago, we started dating. It was always there, somewhat, I guess, despite the age difference, but we decided to make a real go of it.”

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. He fought Brock Rumlow when they both were amateur fighters and knew about Brock’s reputation, but this wasn’t the time to comment on that — especially when he didn't know how much Haven was aware of.

“Besides coaching me, Brock had a management agency that he owned. It went under, and Brock lost his mind. He was drinking all the time, sleeping around. I was so concentrated on getting my pro bid, I ignored all of it.

“We were coming home from a party one night though, and Brock had been drinking. We were arguing about the cheating — I’d had enough, I guess, and I wasn’t exactly sober. The argument really escalated and Brock lost control of the car.” She drew in a deep breath, staring ahead as though the images were playing in front of her. “The car rolled a few times, crashed against a light pole. How we managed to keep that out of the news, I’ll never know.”

Bucky scooted closer, covering one of her hands with his metal hand; she didn’t even wince or pull away. “How extensive were your injuries?”

“Ironically, I broke my left arm right about where you said your cancer was at. I’ve got a rod and a plate supporting it now. Bruised kidney, shattered spleen.”

“You’re lucky that’s all you made it out with.”

Haven paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I am. Anyway, after that, I told myself that I would keep boxing and my personal life separate. I wouldn’t ever again make the mistake that I made with Rum with anyone else.” She turned to look at him. “This fight, this championship you think I have a shot at — all of that means the world to me. I want to come back strong. I don’t want to be the girl who almost lost her shot because she dated her coach and it came back to bite her in the ass.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, shaking a finger at her, “as your coach, it’s my job not to let anyone bite you in the ass.”

She laughed, and Bucky found that he quite liked the sound. “Well, thanks, I appreciate it. I mean, I think I’ve got a pretty nice ass and bite marks would just ruin the image.”

“I’ve seen it,” Bucky reminded her, “and — not to overstep — but bite marks or not, Haven, you do, in fact, have a nice ass.”

That made her laugh even harder and painted her cheeks with a blush he hadn’t seen since the day of his interview. She swatted at him playfully, but Bucky dodged out of the way, slipping out of the ring with Haven not far behind him.

He waited with her while she shut down the lights in the gym and locked up the building. She walked with him to the front of the house where he was parked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Starting to get chilly at night,” Bucky commented.

“Yeah, it is.”

Bucky fished his keys from his pocket, wanting for some reason to linger in their goodbye. “Running tomorrow morning?”

Haven gave him a thumb’s up. “Bright and early.”

“I’ll see you then. G’night, Haven.”

“Night, Bucky.”

She had skipped the ‘Coach’ bit again; Bucky wondered if she even realized she had done that. He got into his car and pulled out of the driveway, waving goodbye one more time to Haven before turning his eyes to the road.

Headstrong: @disastersoldierbucky @ashleymalfoy @amanda-teaches @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @tanelle83 @tellmewhatyouwill @capandbuckylvr @pinknerdpanda @ntlmundy @siggy85 @itsallyscorner @m-blasterrr @just-the-hiddles

Buckvember: @peace-love-hobbitness @disastersoldierbucky @connie326 @rebekahdawkins @wonder-cole @shynara51

#marvel #fanfiction #bucky #bucky barnes #buckvember #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #buckvember queue

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

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Branded - Chapter 14

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Strange finishes his tests, and you reunite with Davin. All seems well, so why is Bucky so clearly avoiding your eye?

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Body horror, spooky scary demons, angst, Bucky making me sad

Word Count: 3.4k

AO3

You waited for the verdict on metaphorical pins and needles. Literal pins and needles had been involved in the wizard’s “tests.”

They hadn’t even broken the skin or made you bleed, but every time they’d neared you, you’d fought the urge to bolt like a deer.

You were bad—Bucky had been worse. Strange had asked on more than one occasion if he needed to leave the room, and each time Bucky had gritted out an emphatic no while pacing the room like a restless predator. Not one that was hunting you, the proverbial deer, but his presence was still distracting for… well, quite a number of reasons.

Two hours. Two hours of being instructed to peer through strange spectacles, focus your mind on irregular shaped stones, or lay your hand on a metal orb that made your palm tingle. It was a sensation that threw your thoughts back to the creepy book in the basement. Your skin crawled.

Please, you silently prayed to whoever would hear you. Please don’t let them find anything. Especially not the mark. Anything but that.

Once Strange appeared to finish his tests, most of which had been more tedious than uncomfortable, he leaned a hip against his desk and rubbed his goatee, lost in thought.

You couldn’t wait any longer.

“Well?”

“Hmm?” He raised his head, the distance in his eyes honing into a focused stare.

“Are you done?” You tried not to fidget as you asked. Failed.

He blinked, as if remembering you were there.

“Oh, yes. Quite finished. You’re perfectly ordinary.”

He spoke the words with a casual cadence as if reciting the weather. Ordinary skies today, no chance of thunderstorms or magical potential.

“I’m normal,” you repeated like the world’s slowest parrot.

“In a magical sense, yes. I can’t speak in terms of your personal situation, but as far as I can tell, you are energetically inert.”

You didn’t know what the hell that meant, but it sounded a lot better than portal-wielding-demon-magnet. You weren’t disappointed. You weren’t. A selfish part of you hadn’t wanted your own you’re a wizard, Harry moment. Not at all.

You chanced a quick glance upwards and to your right. Bucky was standing next to your chair, his arms crossed and his lips formed into a slight pout as he stared at Strange. He didn’t seem at all relieved by the good news.

“Does that mean I can go?” you asked, sitting straighter in your chair.

“Yes.” Strange’s tone was even but his expression was oddly closed. “You can depart whenever you wish.”

You rose to your feet, ready to not spend a minute more in that place when the door to his office opened without a knock. Wong stood on the threshold, his frown grave. Unhelpful to use as a gauge, given that you suspected it was his default expression.

“We’re ready.”

“Excellent.” Strange pushed himself up from the desk, straightened the collar of his cape, and made a motion toward the door. “I assume you still wish to watch the ritual?”

Oh. Right. You’d completely forgotten about Davin. Guilt wiggled through your stomach like a worm through a rotten apple.

“Yeah. Yes, I mean. I do.”

He made the same motion toward the door and you followed it, your fists stiff at your side as you followed Wong out into the hallway. You could breathe a little easier now, knowing you would no longer be trapped as a long-term “guest,” but you wouldn’t truly shake off the feeling of dread until you had stepped back out onto the street. Or hell, better yet, back in your apartment.

The wizards may have helped you, and Bucky seemed to be allied with them, but that didn’t mean you trusted them. Plus, you really had meant it when you’d said you had a life to get back to. Being a captive in a magician’s place in Greenwich Village was not your idea of a relaxing holiday.

You had to go home and find out how much trouble you were in with the landlord; you hadn’t even begun to think about Davin and the thing inside of him—

A warm presence at your back scattered your anxious thoughts and the tension in your muscles began to leech away. Bucky was close behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know it was true, no more than you needed to open your eyes to recognize the warmth of the sun on your face.

You wished you could talk to him, but more than anything else, you wanted him to hold you again. Wrap his arms around you and murmur reassurances into your hair, telling you everything would be all right even if it wasn’t true.

Your wish went depressingly unfulfilled as Wong led you to a thick door made of iron. Remembering the last dungeon-like door you had walked through, your knees locked and your feet remained solidly on the floor. Bucky’s solid weight bumped into you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, in all appearances meant to steady you, but his fingers gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

A small gesture, too tiny for anyone else to see, meant only for you. It gave you the courage to walk through the door.

The room beyond was as grim as you’d fear it would be. There were no electronics or modern equipment that you could see. Instead, there were braziers along the walls, candelabras hanging from the ceiling, and glyphs carved into the walls.

What awaited you in the middle of the room made the surroundings seem like a cheery garden party. A grey stone slab, roughly at hip-height and seven feet in length, dominated the space. Davin lay upon its surface, thick straps across his shins, thighs, hips, and chest holding him in place. His wrists were bound by a second set of straps that were tied to the restraints across his waist.

He was focused on the wizards as they filed into the room, but once you were within sight of the altar, his gaze fixated immediately on your face. His brows furrowed as his eyes blazed into a hateful glare, his arms flexing as he struggled against his unyielding restraints.

There was no noise aside from the sound of leather chaffing against skin and clothing. Not even muffled protests arose from behind the cloth covering his mouth. It looked almost like a surgeon’s mask, a deep red color with a golden glyph drawn across its surface.

There was only you, Bucky, and the two wizards in the room. That made you feel slightly better. You weren’t sure if you could handle a whole gathering of hooded figures, looming over your coworker as if he was a sacrificial lamb about to be offered up to a vengeful deity.

You half expected daggers to be wielded, glowing with ritualistic glyphs, but the wizards’ hands remained empty. You suspected that didn’t mean much.

Strange stood at Davin’s head while Wong took up position to the right. Bucky was at your side, apparently not needing to take part in the exorcism, which began with the wizards making intricate shapes over the slab with their hands. Concentric orange circles formed in the air, filling the space with their unnatural luminescence.

Davin, or rather, the demon inside him, bucked against the straps, violently tossing his head in silent protest. The wizards paid him no mind, the shapes in the air growing brighter as the smell of ozone thickened the air and made it hard to take a full breath.

Strange and Wong weren’t paying you any attention either, too distracted to notice as Bucky slipped his arm around your waist, tucking you securely against his side. His eyes remained forward, the muscles in his jaw clenched and thrown into relief from the orange light painting his features, but his hold was firm and unrelenting.

Too afraid the wizards would see you wrap your own arm around him, you instead pressed your hand into the edge of his jacket, fisting the material tightly. He was the only thing grounding you in such a surreal, terrifying moment, and you couldn’t begin to imagine getting through this without his steady presence.

The exorcism itself, thank Christ, was short. Or, relatively short. It lasted maybe thirty seconds to a minute at most, but having to watch Davin silently squirm and writhe tied to a stone slab made the experience seem much, much longer.

“Ready?” Strange had his hands poised, one above Davin’s forehead and the other above his heart, the vibrant orange glyphs floating in front of his fingertips.

“Ready,” Wong answered. His own glyphs vanished as he picked up a jar you hadn’t noticed from the floor. Moving as if he was about to handle a live wire, Wong grabbed one end of the mask and quickly pulled it from Davin’s face.

The sound that erupted from his mouth was shrill, high-pitched, and inhuman, quickly cut off as Wong placed the opening of the jar over his mouth.

Davin’s body gave one final lurch, his back arching as something was expelled from his mouth. A long, segmented yellow appendage you now recognized as the heigore. It was pulled up into the jar as if it was reverse-gravity, coiling at the top just as neatly as a pile of especially ugly rope.

The end of the heigore barely passed the lip of the jar before Wong pulled it from Davin’s face and covered the opening with another glowing glyph. He wiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead, and Strange looked similarly tired as he let the concentric circles sizzle from his fingertips.

It was over.

Or… nearly over. Bucky removed his arm from around your waist and you immediately let go of his jacket. Biting your lip in nervous habit, you watched as Wong approached him with the jar.

“All yours,” Wong said, holding it out to him. Curious, you walked slowly forward, watching in sudden alarm as Wong waved away the glyphs.

Sensing its freedom, the heigore launched itself from the jar—right into Bucky’s iron grip. His demonic fist had a stranglehold around the parasite, pulling its entire body from the jar with one swift movement.

It was a pathetic sight within Bucky’s serrated grasp. A thorny, overgrown parasite only two feet in length. That’s all it really was outside of a host. A helpless tapeworm.

It coiled around Bucky’s forearm like a snake, squeezing uselessly at the armored plates. Its thorny surface puffed up, blades unsheathing from the thorns, and you clutched at your throat reflexively. You knew exactly what those blades felt like tearing into human flesh.

Bucky didn’t so much as flinch, his eyes hard as he glared down at the creature, one corner of his lip pulled back in a grimace of disgust.

And then, he began to squeeze. You couldn’t look away, morbidly fascinated as the demon sensed the danger it was in, uncoiling from Bucky’s arm to try and escape. It flailed and writhed, twitching in the air, but there was no escape. Not from that iron grip. Those claws, a moment ago gently pressing into your side, now dug into the demon with murderous intent.

The heigore gave one last shudder, a tremble rippling throughout its sinuous length before it began to burn. Like a fuse being ignited from both ends, its head and tail caught flame, the heat blazing through it so quickly it was over within seconds. The flaming parasite collapsed into ash and fizzled into black smoke, flooding the room with a sickening, familiar stench.

Your bedroom. That night. A flash, a screech, and the smell of sulfur. You understood what it was now: Bucky, banishing other demons to wherever it was they came from.

There were so many questions you still needed answering, but all of your curiosity died as you looked to the stone slab.

Davin, eyes wide and alert and terrified, had watched the whole thing. It was that lucid panic on his face, the knowledge that there was no doubt this was Davin, made you finally move.

“You shouldn’t—“

Whatever Strange was going to say was lost as you rushed forward to the stone slab, your hands gripping the edge as you spoke his name in a tight voice.

“Davin?”

He swallowed and nodded, his voice painfully hoarse. “Is it… is it gone? Really gone?”

He was still strapped tight to the surface, but there was enough room for you to slip your hand through the restraints, curling your palm around his clenched fist.

“It’s gone,” you affirmed, squeezing his hand. “It’s over.”

It didn’t matter what the heigore had made him do to you. It didn’t matter that you’d never been that close. Right now, he was a human being caught up in the terrifying world of magic and demons, and you knew what a terrifying thing that was.

His bottom lip trembled, his eyes glassy as he seemed on the verge of breaking. You tried to open his clenched fist with a measured gentleness, and he allowed your fingers to slip through. You squeezed his hand and the haunted look in his eyes wasn’t as present as it had been a moment before. You even thought you saw relief there.

Someone cleared their throat and you looked over your shoulder to find three pairs of eyes staring at you. Strange wore a small but genuine smile. Wong’s raised eyebrows had made a reappearance.

And Bucky… wouldn’t even meet your eye.

A sensation sunk in your chest, like someone had pulled the plug and something warm and vital was draining out.

“I’m sure you’re eager to put this business behind you,” Strange said, stepping forward. With a flick of his wrist, the restraints all unbuckled at once, leaving Davin free to sit up. He did so, slowly and carefully, rubbing the base of his throat in a way that was a mirror image to your earlier gesture.

Strange nodded to Davin but his gaze also flicked to you. “We’re going to examine you one last time to make sure you are unharmed, and then… you may both go home.”

You blinked. Already? Now that the moment was here, you felt strangely… unsteady. Like you weren’t on solid ground anymore. How were you supposed to move on with your life after this?

One step at a time. And the first step was you leaving the room, guided by Wong as he explained they needed privacy. They being Davin, Strange, and Bucky, though you couldn’t imagine what he had to do with the examination. Maybe he needed to check no trace of the demon remained. All things considered, there was still so much you didn’t know about Bucky.

You planned to rectify that as soon as possible. It was long overdue.

The examination was only a few minutes, during which time you lingered at the bottom of a staircase. This area of the sanctum was much more somber, dark wood and faded teal wallpaper and carpets. The top of the grand staircase split in two, leading around the tall antechamber deeper into the sanctum.

Beyond the front of the staircase were two large doors that you just knew led to the outside world.

Freedom. So close, yet still out of reach.

“Don’t touch that.”

You jerked away from the aged bronze structure you’d been leaning against, shooting Wong a guilty look. Before you could apologize, footsteps against carpet runners drew your attention to the staircase, your eye lightening when your gaze fell on Bucky.

The tension around his eyes and the grim set of his mouth halted your smile before it could form. Davin stood next to him once they reached the bottom of the stairs, his face pale as his gaze kept flickering from the floor to Bucky.

Before you could even begin to figure out what was going on there, Strange said, “All appears to be well.” He seemed to be the only one of the group who wasn’t a bundle of frayed nerves. “You both are free to leave.”

“W-wait,” you stuttered, drawing the wizard’s attention. “What about my clothes? And I need to find Monster—“

“The hobgoblin will find its way home, if it’s not there already, and your clothes have been sent ahead of you.”

“Oh.” You looked to Bucky, seeking some kind of acknowledgement, but he remained silent, gaze hovering near your shoulder.

As if you weren’t feeling unsteady enough, now Bucky wouldn’t even meet your eye.

“We shall be monitoring you both, just in case there were any other demonic entities involved.” Wong peered toward Bucky, expressionless. “Sergeant Barnes will be in contact to ascertain all demonic activity has ceased, but should either of you run into anymore strange occurrences, contact us immediately.”

You turned to Wong and frowned. “But my phone was—“

The bald wizard drew out an object from his robes and held it out to you. It was your phone, pristine and whole as if the demon had never snapped it in half.

You took it with numb fingers, your thoughts equally stalled. You slipped your phone into the pocket of the robe you were still wearing, not knowing what else to say. It seemed the wizards had thought of everything.

“Shall we?”

You looked up just as Strange extended both of his hands and drew a circle with his arm. The fiery orange circle appeared in sync with his movements, the sphere large enough to step through as sparks splattered through the air, landing on the hardwood floor and skittering away.

A clear image of your living room appeared within its depths, just as pristine and unruined as your phone had been.

You looked to Strange, then Wong, and finally Bucky. Suddenly… you weren’t ready. All you’d wanted to do was go home, but now it took all of your willpower not to step back from the portal and beg them to let you stay.

If you left, if you went back to your life, then you’d have to face the consequences of everything that had happened. You’d have to acknowledge it was real.

And then you caught Davin’s eye. He was looking at the portal, the hollowness in his eyes gone as he stared with wonder and longing. You weren’t the only one to survive a harrowing experience.

“Ready?” you asked, voice pitching to a soft decibel. Davin dragged his gaze reluctantly from the portal to your face, the fiery ring reflecting in his eyes. He gave a quick nod, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Between the two of you, you’d been the most conscious during the last journey by portal. You took a step closer and tried not to flinch as sparks danced across the carpet in front of your slippers.

You assumed it was safe. Hoped it was safe. Otherwise, Bucky wouldn’t let you go.

…right?

Before you stepped through, you glanced over your shoulder, searching out a pair of pale blue eyes. You found them staring back at you, hard and troubled, and they flicked between you and Davin with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

Before you could determine what it was, Bucky dropped his eyes again, his crossed arms tight across his chest. Everything about his body language was uncomfortable and tense, conveying a desire to be anywhere but there.

It did nothing to soothe your own anxiety but you’d already stalled too long; the two wizards were watching you expectantly. You turned back to the portal, trying not to feel like a child about to step onto a stage for the school’s talent show. Only instead of humiliation, you faced being burned by a literal ring of fire.

With an encouraging nod aimed at your coworker, you stepped forward through the magical wormhole, your slippers landing on the low pile carpet of your living room.

No burning smell flesh, no fiery pain, just a brief flush of warmth across your skin before you were on the other side.

Davin stepped through just behind you, and with a sharp fizzle, the portal closed in on itself with a last flicker of sparks.

It’s over. That’s what you had told Davin. It’s what you had told yourself, too.

How wrong you were.

Next Chapter

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