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charliehoennam · 25 days

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hero's homestead

A/N: just a lil blurb I've had stuck on my mind and had to frigging get out since watching Road House

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x f!reader

Warnings: physical injuries, jealousy, kissing, mentions of grief and death

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Growing up in Glass Key made your face quite familiar around these parts. Everyone knew you, not because you were popular or from a rich family. Lord knows you wish you were.

But because the island was just so small, like a little fishbowl with too many sharks circling around their prey, everyone knew each other around here. However, the small island was full of a strong sense of community.

Your friendship with Charlie started while you were in high school. You were just a freshman and Charlie was six when Stephen and his wife would very often ask you to baby-sit.

Saying no to them was nearly impossible. Not only did they pay you well, but they always offered you a ride home and made you sure you had dinner before leaving. They really treated you like you were part of the family and helping one another in the community was just so normal.

They always treated you with welcoming kindness and respect so, if there was anything you could do to help them, you did it. Aside from baby-sitting Charlie, this included working at their book store.

You were around there most of the time. If you weren't at home or at school, you were at Glass Books.

As you got older, you started to spend less and less time there in order to focus on your own personal and professional life.

That didn't mean you were never around anymore. You still made your frequent stop to buy the new read of the week.

"Why don't you just get all the books you want for the month, so you don't have to keep coming back?" Charlie questioned genuinely curious.

"Nah, I like coming here. I like the service. And besides, you'd miss me too much, kid" you chuckled watching the young teenage ring your book up at the register.

When Stephen told you about his wife's illness, it really took you by surprise. She could've easily been voted the happiest woman of Glass Key. The aura she possessed could make the dullest room become the brightest. Her sense of humor would have even the most no-nonsense person cracking a smile. She was an amazing woman and a motherly figure to most.

The entire community mourned her loss. The blue sky and the tropical environment wasn't enough to brighten the day for your neighborhood's residents. The heavy rains that followed that entire week led you to believe that even the island was weeping for her absence.

Between medical expenses, funeral costs and a growing teenager, Stephen had to learn to be a single father quite fast. And that meant working a full-time job to make end's meet.

He asked you to help out with the store and you happily agreed. Glass Books was his wife's dream. She loved spending her days there, in the cozy little bookstore she'd built with the love of her life.

Although you know Stephen has a lot on his plate, you can't help but wonder if he wants to avoid the store and her memory altogether.

You refused to accept money for it, knowing the shop didn't make so much money. Even so, Stephen would still transfer you a small amount whenever he could and would often bring you breakfast, lunch or dinner because he felt it was the least he could do.

All you wanted to do was help.

He was more than grateful, especially when he saw how you could make Charlie laugh by putting on music and dancing in the middle of the store with her.

He could see her slipping into a dark place after the death of her mother. Dealing with his own pain, he did his best. But, you were the best friend she needed. A feminine figure she could go to talk about more embarrassing situations or just to get her mind off of the loss.

Gradually, it seemed like their small family was beginning to heal. Although the loss was a still a fresh wound, and Stephen would often find Charlie clutching a small portrait of her mother asleep in bed, they were managing to keep the pain at bay.

You understand how important this store to them. It represents so much more than being just a simple local book store. It represents her.

The store was just as special to you as it was to Charlie and Stephen.

It had always been your refuge, but now, it was always the place where you met him.

Charlie, with her overly friendly nature that she inherited from her mother, struck up a conversation with the then stranger just outside the bookstore.

Her overprotective father was soon outside within seconds. Although the friendly streak ran deep within him too, he knew these parts were full of men with bad intentions.

Once he realized the stranger wasn't from around, he felt a little more at ease.

Although you remained inside the shop, you could overhear their conversation as you inched towards the door and opened it to stand in the doorway, eyeing the stranger with caution.

Stephen was surprised to know he'd come out of town to work at the Road House. To be honest, neither of you expected him to last very long. At that place, security never does.

The bouncer turnover never ceased with the riots that broke out there almost every night. So, you didn't bother getting your hopes up.

However, Dalton kept coming back. Every other day, he came in with the excuse of using the computer or buying a book just to strike up a conversation with you and lay down his flirtatious charm.

Charlie was the first to notice he would always come around when you were there and, if you weren't, he'd always make sure to ask when you were.

She had quite a bit of fun poking fun at you, telling you he had a crush on you or mocking the unconscious change in your voice you had when talking to him.

It didn't long take for feelings to develop between you and him. There was no doubt in either of you. Although unspoken, the magnetic attraction was undeniably present.

Some of those talks were deep and you felt you could confide in him to share things you hadn't shared with anyone at all. He, in turn, told you about the night on the train tracks and how the last fight he had in the ring haunted him every night.

There was no denying the bond you were forming. However, the rumors that were spreading around the island about the closeness between Ellie and him made you hesitant to make the first move.

When you casually brought it up into conversation, he shook his head and told you it wasn't anything serious and that she'd took him on a date once. You wanted to ask him if he had feelings for her, but that would be too much.

"So what's the deal with you and Dalton?" Charlie curiously asked, having picked up on the constant courtship that you two refused to act on.

"There is no deal. We're just friends. Hardly that."

"I may be young, but I'm no fool. I know there's something going on between you two."

"Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but there isn't. Besides, I hear he's got a sort of a girlfriend" you replied without looking up at her from the book in your hand.

You were both sat in fold-out beach chairs placed in front of the store, enjoying a couple of white cherry slushies, hoping the ice cold drink could soothe the hot, humid weather.

"How do you have a 'sort of girlfriend'? Either she is or isn't."

"Those things are complicated. I guess they're getting to know each other," you shrugged wishing you could avoid the topic.

"Like you guys are?"

"There is nothing going on. Sure, he's cute and funny and all, but he's seeing someone else. He's not interested in me, Charlie."

"So, you are interested in him?"

"It doesn't matter if I am. She's a doctor, she's smart and she's really pretty and drives a nice car. I know I don't stand a chance, so I'd rather not get my hopes up," you rambled, failing to read anything on the page you were stuck on. "Can we please drop this now?"

"Oh my god," she smirked staring at you. "You're jealous."

You scoffed at her ridiculous accusation and shook your head as you closed the book and set it in your lap.

"I am not jealous. I do not get jealous."

"Yes, you are! You totally are!"

"I am not! I just don't want to talk about this anymore, alright? So can we drop it?"

"Alright, alright. Sorry I brought it up."

She couldn't stop smiling as you opened your book to continue reading. Although you weren't her parents, her mind couldn't stop thinking of a way to parent-trap you into getting together.

However, her plans were brought to a halt when Brandt's lackeys invaded the shop just a few days later.

You tried your best to stand your ground and defend the shop along with Stephen. He told you to leave, but you refused.

After the beatdown you both received unwillingly, a fire had been set and the cruel men left. The adrenaline that surged through your bodies was enough to numb the pain in order to get you both quickly back on your feet to put out the fire.

Between the blood loss and the resurfacing pain, the billowing smoke got stronger and stronger. The flames became too strong too quickly and had engulfed the entire wall across the front counter.

Light-headed and dizzy, Stephen tried to save whatever he could from the store. As you rushed back and forth, you realized that the fire had grown too much and swallowed the front entrance.

The heat of it shattered the glass windows. The open air only fueled the fire more. Coughing from the heavy smoke, both you and Stephen got down on the floor to avoid the unbreathable air and attempted to crawl to the back exit.

Everything went dark after that and melded into one huge blur.

You don't remember when you actually blacked out, but you do remember feeling relieved once you heard the fire department's arrival.

The time you spent in the hospital was short - only a couple of days - but it was enough to make you reflect on your life.

An overwhelming sense of regret washed over you as you thought about Dalton.

You'd only known each other for a few weeks, but what if you could've had something special? What if Charlie's jokes were true and he actually ended up to be your soulmate?

She could be wrong too, but the fact that you could've died and never found out if you ever really did stand a chance ate at your mind.

You hadn't fully realized the extent of your attachment until a couple days later.

You show up at the store with a limp from the beatdown you'd received a couple days ago.

Stephan tries to assure you they're fine, that you need to rest and recover, but you argue that you'll go insane if you stay at home with nothing to do, high on pain meds.

Helping the owners clean and salvage whatever they can, Charlie casually mentions that Dalton and left her and her father a suitcase full of money to rebuild the store before he got on a greyhound bus destined to leave Glass Key.

The same regret you'd felt in the hospital strikes you again and secretly consumes you.

You try to play it off and instruct her to not to tell anyone about the money. You barely understand what she said after that. All you can think about for the rest of that morning is that he left and didn't even say goodbye.

When Charlie and her father invite you to get some lunch with them, you politely refuse, opting to stay back and keep yourself busy. You lie and tell them you had a big breakfast beforehand just so they won't worry.

You promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. You knew better than that. Bouncers never last at the Road House. You know this just as well as any of the other residents of Glass Key.

He's gone now.

You just want to be alone for a bit to process it.

The door opens and the bell above it rings as you sweep away at the shattered glass, forcing you to look back over your shoulder.

The sight you see has you frozen in surprise.

His face is impossible to forget. You could never forget those big blue doe eyes, even with the dark skin that circles his right eye.

You groan lightly at the shooting pain from your broken rib as you straighten and turn to face him, holding the broom by your side as you stand next to it.

Dalton closes the glassless door behind him as he greets you with a silent but friendly smile until the cut on your lip and the black eye remind him of the damage he caused.

He doesn't look too different from you. His eye is still a little swollen but mostly black now, his lip busted and the stitches on his eyebrow are all evidence that business has been handled at the Road House.

"So, the Glass Key hero returns" you smile at him, ignoring the sting on your bottom lip. "Charlie said you were riding off into the sunset. You forget something?"

"I'm not a hero and, no, I didn't" he starts, looking around the burned down shop trying to swallow his guilt.

"Changed your mind?"

"Someone kinda changed it for me, actually. A very wise person told me that heroes don't always have to ride off into the sunset. They can stay and make a homestead instead."

Joy bursts within you like fireworks on new years. You try to fight back the smile that creeps onto you lips.

"Thought you weren't a hero."

"I'm not."

You nod biting the inside of your cheek to mask your excitement. You take the second broom that Charlie had been using earlier and left leaning against the wall by the front door.

"This homestead could use a hand" you smile and offer him the broom.

He takes it with a happy grin, feeling finally accepted as if he finally found somewhere he belongs.

"There's, uh, one more thing" he says in a soft voice.

His hand raises to your chin, tilting your head up as he cranes his neck to kiss you in the most tender of ways.

Unable to forget about Ellie, you place a hand on his chest and gently push to stop the kiss.

Dalton's face contorts with confusion. He doesn't notice the breath he's holding, anxiety settling in as he fears that you'll ask him to stop. Maybe he got the wrong signals and you don't like him that way. He'd respect it, if that's the case, but it doesn't mean his heart won't be crushed.

"I thought you were seeing Ellie?"

He blinks slightly surprised. That's not what he had expected to hear, but it makes him kind of happy that you're not asking him to stop.

"She took me on a date and we kissed, but that was it."

"So, you are dating her?"

"What, are you jealous?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not jealous."

"You sound a little jealous" he smirks.

"I'm not. I just... I don't wanna get my hopes up."

"I'm not dating her," he says gently stroking your bruised cheek. "I told her there's someone else for me, someone that I really wanna date."

He gazes into your eyes as you smile up at him and let him continue his kiss. You let his lips linger on yours and smile when you feel them stretch into a grin.

The cuts on your mouths hurt, but neither of you bother to pull away.

His kiss gradually intensifies. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance. His free hand reaches for your waist as the other sets against your cheek, leaving the broom tucked in his arm.

You let his tongue slip past your defenses. The gentle way his hand cradles your face has you holding onto his strong forearm and the other broom for balance as the room spins around you from his vertiginous kiss.

Your chest presses against his as you moan softly into his mouth. It takes him every ounce of his self-control to not pin you against the wall.

The bell rings again, alerting you both of another's presence so you quickly pull apart, trying to quickly compose yourselves. Your eyes shoot to the door along with Dalton's.

You realize who it is, so he shyly lets his eyes wander around what's left of the store and sweeps the ashy floor.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Charlie smirks sipping her juice from a straw as she stands in the doorway.

"No, no," you reply nervously as heat pools in your cheeks. "Dalton and I were just, uh, cleaning up."

"Cleaning what? The floor or each other's throats?"

Dalton snickers at her candor, glancing at you until she continues.

"Good to see you're back though. And if you ask me, it's about time."

#elwood dalton #elwood dalton x reader #elwood dalton x you #elwood dalton x y/n #elwood dalton fic #elwood dalton imagine #elwood dalton fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fic #road house

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 27 days

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Adrift at Sea

Author’s notes: Catius’s debute in Mermay!

Summary: Catius is looking for somewhere to patch up his wounds and finds a cave. It seems empty of inhabitants. Supposedly.

Warnings: unreliable narrator, descriptions of injuries, feelings of loss and betrayal, survivor’s guilt, let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog

Tagged if it doesn't work: @kit-williams, @whorety-k

Swimming in the oceans of this world, filled with pollution and trash, as well as a lot of life was interesting. His strong ribbon dark blue take with spots of yellow-gold mark him for being of the Ultramarine shoals. The wicked warp storm that he and his brothers had been swimming through, being shown the ways through by Captain Sicarius had been vicious, and the warp predators were even more ferocious. He feels the sting in his hearts and eyes as he remembers the First Born Second Captain abandoning him and his brothers for his own skin.

He and his brothers had been fighting together to try to break through the storm and predators. Each of his brothers falling one by one and he had assumed he'd die as well, as he continues to swim, still bleeding heavily, but alive, on this world he doesn't recognize, he may still die, or attract predators that scent the blood of a wounded creature and circle and pick at his corpse to eat his flesh. He shakes his head, no! He shouldn't think like that! He still has some of his weapons that work and his armor, while it will need to be repaired, still offers him more protection that going without it would do.

His vox is busted and his throat is healing, so trying to sing out for help is out of the question at the moment. He's blinking the spots out of his vision; he needs to find somewhere to rest and recover. He's spotted sharks, and other predatory aquatic life start to scent the blood in the water and chase after him. A few bolter blasts chase them right off, for easier prey as he silently bares his teeth in a soundless snarl at them, his scales rucking up to make him seem larger and more intimidating before he continues to swim on. Tired from battle, and his hearts sore from the loss of all the brother's he's been raised and trained with the most.

Loss and death are some of the duties of an Angel of the Imperium, and something he knows would be his fate at one point or another. But to be abandoned, before his first mission, to be torn apart and eaten by warp predators so that the first-born officers could save their own skins was... well, older brothers, especially first born are more valuable because they are older and more experienced, but an entire Company of Primaris Marines in exchange for one Captain? Even though he is the Second Captain feels a little... well, no- those thoughts are Bad Thoughts. And Not Good.

Captain Sicarius was... he likely had his reasons for leaving them behind to die. Even if he doesn't know what those reasons might be, even if they are ones that he doesn't know if he has the capacity to listen to and try to understand at the moment. He'd been warned by some that those of the gene-seed of Guilliman could have a Berserker's rage if properly pushed too far, and he'd been pushed over that limit during their abandonment, which was what likely allowed him to survive, even if he'd much rather to have died honorably alongside his battle brothers.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths and his gills flare a little as he spots an underwater cave, he slowly approaches it. He carefully scouts within the cave, making sure to keep a sight line in order to not get lost within the caverns. So far it doesn’t seem like someone is living here, whether it’s an entity or a large, or a school of smaller creatures that could potentially give him trouble as his wounds self-knit and he stops bleeding, the pain slowly fading from his body. He checks over his body and takes some rations to nibble on as he eases the complaints in his stomach into low rumbles as he tries to fall asleep.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #oc: Catius #mermay #mermay 2024 #mermay 40k

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definitelynotstable · 9 months

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Camomile pt. 17 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14, pt. 15, pt. 16, pt. 17

AN: Another oneeeeee.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “El Sin Nombre” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <3 Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, brief mentions of sa etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags): Note about pronouns at the bottom :)

✧˚ · .

You hood is yanked from your head and you squint at the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Hermana.”

Your eyes widen as they meet the brown ones in front of you.

“Alejandro?”

He’s in a suit and wears a matching balaclava to the men at the gate. He rests a hand on your shoulder, holding your gaze.

“How did you–“

–“No time.” He cuts you off, “Listen, give them good intel in there. Don’t lie, tell them everything they want to know or you’ll die here.”

“Everything?” You know it’s part of the plan and partially your idea but you’ve been trained not to give up intel. This goes against everything you’ve learnt as a soldier.

“Everything.” Alejandro confirms, “Mexican special forces, American PMCs, Shadow Company, Philip Graves – all truth.”

“Even your name?” You ask, unsure of how much is too much. But there’s a screech and elevator doors open, cutting you off.

A man stands, a double leather holster overlaps his brightly patterned shirt. He’s bald with a dark beard and a chain rests on his chest. Your gaze flicks up to his and he grins at you like a hungry shark and it takes everything in you not to gulp like a cartoon character. You settle for a shaky breath.

“¿Es ella?”

“Sí, señor.” Alejandro replies, pushing you forward with a firm shove.

The man tilts his head, still smiling.

“You got a name, chica?”

You swallow. No lies.

“They call me Rags.”

“¿Qué tipo de nombre es Rags?” He laughs, reaching forward to grip your upper arm. “Let’s go.”

You tug back slightly, eyes hard. “I want to see El Sin Nombre.”

He turns back to you and grips your jaw tightly, wrenching your neck forwards and into the light.

“You’re only alive because you may have some information.” He squeezes harder and you bite your tongue. “It better be good perra or I’ll let my men have their way with you.”

He shoves you away with a laugh.

“Get the fuck out of my elevator.”

✧˚ · .

You’re shoved down the narrow hallways, trailing Diego as he gives you a scuffed version of a tour. Finally you’re pushed into a dimly lit room a the end of a corridor. The floor steps down and there’s a single light casting a hard glow on a cluster of chairs where two men in army uniforms are slumped; bound and gagged. Another sits with his back to you in more civilian attire.

“Valeria.” Diego says as you enter, “There’s one more. A gringo.”

The woman, Valeria, stands behind the two uniformed men. She’s in a tank top and jeans, a scarf around her neck and holster on her hips. She looks at you with an interest smile, almost like a cat.

“Sit down.”

The man to her left shoves one of the soldiers off a chair. He slumps over and rolls to the side, unmoving. You eye her warily as you cross the room, someone’s laid a tarp down in a poor attempt to keep the blood spatter from the polished wood floors. You swallow thickly as it squeaks underfoot, careful not to lose your balance with your hands still zip tied in front of you.

“¿Quién es?” Valeria asks, stepping in front of you to talk to Diego. There’s an authoritative air about her and Diego’s body language suggests she holds the power here – though it’s his house.

“El nombre es trapos.” He replies as she questions him. “They came to us.”

“¿Trapos?”

You watch as she circles the man like an animal hunting its prey.

“And you let them in?”

Diego stands stock still. “They say they have information.”

You flinch as Valeria kicks out his legs from beneath him and holds a knife to his throat.

“¡No la conocemos y nos ha visto la cara!”’

“Valeria.” Diego gasps against her hold, palms raised in surrender. “We need intel, they could help us.”

She spits a threat to him in spanish before removing her hold and shoving him forwards. He lands on his hands and knees before scuttling to the side.

Valeria’s gaze turns to you and she pulls out a gun from her holster. She holds it in a casual way which almost feels more threatening than the guards before. She’d use the gun to maim – a bullet to the head would be too easy.

“Children!” She says, swishing her hips as she comes to stand in the centre of the circle of chairs. “This is simple: I ask questions. You answer truthfully.”

She swings her gun around. “Do not lie to me.”

She turns to you, eyes dark and calculating.

“Recently we were protecting a friend in the mountains. Someone attacked us there. Who?”

The man across from you sends you an anxious glance. You realise he isn’t in civvies – he’s in the army but wears a jacket unlike the other two.

“Fue un caos. No lo vi.” He stutters and Valeria tuts.

“English. For the gringo.”

He gulps. “I-I think it was the Rivals Cartel.”

Valeria stares him down for a moment before turning to you.

“Your turn, blanquita. Who attacked us?”

“It wasn’t cartel.” You say, mouth dry. It feels as though your betraying your own. “It was Mexican Special Forces.”

“We found the bodies." Valeria narrows her eyes and turns back to the man in front of you. “Now, how would an outsider know they were Mexican Special forces and not you?”

You watch as the man swallows, Diego pushing himself up from where he was sitting in the background – rolling his sleeves as he approaches.

“M-maybe she was there!”

Diego hisses something at the man in spanish and Valeria leans over the man menacingly.

“There were outsiders helping the Mexican Special Forces. Who were they?”

“We – we heard them yelling – some in English. They were with the gringos – like her!”

Valeria turns to face you and you meet her gaze.

“American PMCs. A group called Shadow Company.”

Diego curses from where he stands behind the man and Valeria spits at the ground.

“What proof do you have?”

You jut your chin out, “check my pocket.”

The woman leans forward cautiously and pulls the patch from your pocket. The overhead light casts harsh shadows and highlights her muscular shoulders; arms covered in tattoos.

You lick your lips nervously as she studies it. “Shadow company insignia. Proof.”

Valeria drops the hand holding the patch to her side and leans over you, warm breath fanning over your face.

“Who leads Shadow Company? Give me a name.”

You feel less guilty saying the Americans name. He hasn’t earned your trust like Alejandro has.

“Phillip Graves.”

Satisfied, Valeria pushes off the chair and away from you, studying the insignia again as Diego chuckles.

“Fill graves. I like that.”

Valeria passes the patch to him before turning back to you.

“This man …Graves. What does he want?”

Your jaw ticks slightly. “He wants the missiles you’re moving.”

The man across from you scoffs and says something under his breath. It seems to anger Valeria and he speaks in rapid streams of spanish. Diego approaches him, gun in hand and his voice raises. He’s begging for his life.

You watch, eyes wide as Diego pressed the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. Blood and brain matter splats wetly across the floor and you hold back a gag. It’s easier to pull the trigger than be forced to watch someone else do it like some sick play.

You’re grateful when Valeria rounds on you, filling your vision and blocking the now-dead man.

She leans down, her knife in hand.

“How nice.” Her dark eyes bore in to yours as she cuts through the zip ties around your wrists. “You did good. Well done.”

She turns and walks to the door, the other men in the room stepping out of her way.

“We’re going upstairs.” Diego beckons you forward. “Come on, chica.”

✧˚ · .

Diego shoves you roughly into the elevator and converses in spanish too complicated for you to understand. Valeria still watches you with her calculating gaze, only looking up when the elevator dings and the doors open.

A man in a suit and balaclava waits at the top – a guard.

“This is where you wait, Rags.” Diego shoves you into the arms of the waiting guard and barks an order at him. The guard presses you roughly up against the wall as Diego disappears down the hall with Valeria.

The guard holding you says something to other guard nearby. He says something back before chucking a pale mask at the one restraining you and exiting through a door nearby.

“Your alive.”

The voice catches you off guard. You almost forgot he was inside with you.

“Alejandro!” You sag in relief, arms still against the wall as your friend pretends to search you for weapons. “I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“What did you find?” He asks, squatting to pat down your pants.

“El Sin Nombre is in the penthouse – third floor.”

“We’ll need a keycard.”

“Diego has one.” You reply, remembering the man fidgeting with it and using it in the elevator.

Alejandro finishes his fake search and hands you a mask and a knife.

“Take this.”

You slide the knife into your belt, feeling considerably safer with a weapon. “Why a mask?”

“Some people here can’t be seen with the cartel.” He says, already striding away from you and down the hallway. “Comms are hooked in.”

You slip it on, rolling your neck as it itches against the skin there. His voice buzzes in your air.

“Radio check?”

You give him a thumbs up. “Copy.”

“You’re good.” Alejandro confirms back, “Let’s head out.”

✧˚ · .

AN: ok here’s the situation re pronouns. This dialogue was so damn hard to write gender neutral esp since I don’t know a lick of spanish. The spanish is the only part that is gendered and the logic here is that Rags is most likely fem presenting and so that’s the language used. I’m a she/they girly and I get it’s probably insanely disappointing for my other enbies out there to find gn content. I’m sorry to disappoint but at the end of the day I’m trying to get these out as fast as I can on top of uni and don’t quite have the capacity to be as thorough as I’d like when it comes to this. I plan on turning this into an OC fic eventually and Rags will be afab and use she/her pronouns in that. The rest of this fic will stay generally gn though :)

✧˚ · .

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arttheclown · 1 year

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fic: The Killer in Me (is the Killer in You). fandom: terrifier. rating: mature; minors DNI! characters: art the clown, sienna shaw. dynamic(s): art x sienna. trigger warning(s): implied major character death, descriptions of gore, references to drugs, general toxicity. (ao3 link can be found here.)

When Angel Bitch’s blade slices clean through his throat, her animal scream bouncing off the walls, all Art can think is that it wasn’t fucking supposed to go this way.

On paper, it had been a simple plan – kidnap the brat, lure big sister to her tomb, and bleed her dry as he’d done to her cunt mother and worthless friends. With those kicked puppy eyes and that quivering little voice, he hadn’t been expecting her to put up much of a fight. Dreams were just dreams, after all, and he’d crushed hers under his heel. Took that fancy knife and drove it straight into her guts, just like the little miss had asked.

He’d felt strange, watching the girl’s lifeless corpse fall into the pit – chest tight, temples throbbing, heart pulsing wildly. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he was feeling now, with bitter blood spurting from his wounds and rapidly flooding his lungs. (Should’ve stopped by now. Tissue should’ve healed itself.)

Art’s fingers clamp around his torn throat. His jaws wrench open to suck in air, but there’s no relief to be found; only a pitiful gurgle as his gloves turn a deeper stain of scarlet.

How embarrassing.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the angel side-step, circling him until she looms over his twitching form. She’s a far cry from the golden warrior she’d been masquerading as when the night began, with her matted hair and filthy wings. As she stares down her nose at him, Art searches right back. Looks for anger, resignation, disgust – anything he’s learned to identify in a victim.

It’s when the black, hungry eyes of a shark stare back at him that everything clicks into place.

Angel Bitch’s breath comes out laboured, pupils big enough to swallow her irises. Her jaw clenches and he can hear the chattering of her teeth; smell the salt of her sweat, potent even under layers of blood and dirt. The fact she’s rolling is hardly news to him, but the way her upper lip twitches, peeling back to reveal her gums –

Vitamin E can fuck your head up bad. Speed will fuck it up a lot worse and a lot longer.

But that look she’s giving him…

It makes him feel small in a way he hasn’t in years. Like he’s the shit under her fucking shoe. A measly morsel caught between her fangs.

He doesn’t want the thought to make his toes curl and he hates her all the more for it, rage boiling and billowing within him as he watches – pitiful, pathetic, impotent – the angel raise that pretty, shimmering blade over her head.

Sure, she can deliver the killing blow, if it makes her feel better. But if Art knows anything, it’s that good girls don’t smile when they catch the eyes of their prey. They don’t linger, sucking in the stench of fresh blood and panic through flared nostrils and parted lips.

If he knows anything – and oh, does he know! – this will not be the last time she stands over a heaving, battered body – and it will be far, far from the last time that that body is his own.

Art smiles and bares himself.

#terrifier #terrifier 2 #siennart #art the clown #sienna shaw #sid's fics #terrifier fics seem quite popular on here #so i thought i'd upload my own <3

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wavveyj · 11 months

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‘Intrusive thoughts circle me like sharks waiting for their prey to become weaker & weaker. I have seeked in search of help or perhaps a solution but realize the solution to the dillema I carry day in and day out was but the final solution. Teary eyed I smile while wanting to dial for you, someone, anyone but find myself hanging. Dangling while I gasp for air I think of those I let down and the ones I’ll be looking up to from where I am going. It was never the answer but fighting an enemy where their knife is yet another wound that I rubbed with salt only to see get infected I’ve grown oh so tired. My desire to push on has dwindled and a twinkle of stars above me is what I last saw when my eyes closed.. I digress’.

#spilled ink #spilled words #writing #spilled thoughts #the blues #spilled writing #random #spilt ink #blue

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theguidetocryptids · 2 years

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I was unsure if I wanted to share this story, but I think it’s worth it. Anyone who wants to become an exterminator should know the sort of trouble that you might get yourself into. The last thing I want is someone being enamored with the thought of bagging man-eating cryptids and managing to get themselves seriously hurt, or worse. This is not a safe sort of job.

A few pieces of advice before we continue, in case you really do plan on becoming an exterminator—though, these are more field tips than anything.

Diesel is better than gas for setting things on fire, if you’re worried about the flames surging up too fast or reaching up to you.

Fire can spread between joined structures with extreme ease. Please make sure that the area around your firesite is clear before lighting the flame, and that you know how to contact the relevant authorities in case something goes amiss.

With explosions, even the shockwave—the air that gets shoved out of the way by the violent combustion of whatever fuel you chose—can be deadly, nevermind shrapnel and the accompanying heat and fire.

Do not, under any circumstances, try to replicate anything that I’m about to tell you. The Bureau managed to cover it for me, but to say they weren’t pleased would be doing a disservice to how pissed an entire governmental branch can get.

But, on to the story. I’m sure you’re more than ready to hear it.

We left off with, assuming you read the last post I made, the man that had just saved me, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t about to buy him a beer. We had wound up at the local dive—I think it was named the Y-Bar, or something similar—and we were maybe a few drinks in when we started talking about more than just what jobs we’d worked before. When we started talking about what he was.

It was his smile that gave him away. Every single tooth sharpened to a point, like he’d taken a file to them. Whenever he grinned, it made me think of a shark circling in the depths, waiting for the right time to try and take a bite. Waiting for just the perfect moment to lunge up . . .

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the teeth?” I said, sipping on the most piss-poor glass of beer I’d ever had.

“My teeth?” He said, staring at me like I was crazy, before grinning again, laughing at the expression that no doubt washed over my face. “My teeth, right. I’m a vampire—I’m sure you know the type.”

Of course I did. Vampires were outside of any regular exterminator’s wheelhouse—that was something you called in to the guys over in the BoSS’s black book, but exterminator’s knew all the signs in case we ever stumbled upon them. I said as much, and started to say something about how anyone knew what a vampire was before he raised his hand.

“I wasn’t done.” He said, grinning that damn shark-toothed grin. “Regular vamps are like . . . cottonmouths. Deadly, sure. A real threat to the regular prey—humans. I’m more of a . . . kingsnake.”

That was when I thought about calling the Bureau. It was strange—he was strange—but more importantly, it was way out of my league. Exterminators aren’t the ones that have to deal with these kinds of threats—we’re supposed to be for the pests. I can assure you that if you pursue this line of work, you won’t be encountering situations like this unless you are very, very unlucky.

I hadn’t really moved—I was about to stand up, to walk away, but his hand was already on my shoulder, pushing me back down into the seat.

“Woah now, there’s no need for you to be rushin’ off like that.” He said, voice colder than steel even as he smiled at me. He drained the rest of his glass before he spoke again, taking his hand off my shoulder once he did. It left a pretty nasty bruise—his grip wasn’t gentle. And he said, “Look, jackass, I eat other vampires. I didn’t lure you here just to try to drain you or convert you or some bullshit—and I certainly didn’t bring you here for you to turn me into the BoSS. And, I can you tell you right now, you ain’t takin’ that job in Mississippi.”

There was a job I had intended to take after the gig here—the one that this man saved me during. How he knew about it, I didn’t know exactly, but I could pretty well guess. Exterminators have to phone in the locations of jobs that they work to the Bureau of Supernatural Services, mainly for record keeping, but also to help identify any problematic areas that’ll require more experienced exterminators. Apparently, he had someone on the inside.

Or the Bureau was helping him willingly. I don’t know which would be scarier.

“You weren’t down at the graveyard because of a friend, were you?” I asked. The man only smiled, offering his hand. I shook it warily.

“Call me King. I’ll tell you what the problem is on the drive over.”

“Over where?” I asked, following him as he walked outside. This was all, in hindsight, the craziest goddamn thing I’d ever gotten myself into, but it seemed like the normal brand of supernatural weird at the time. That was until he told me what the problem he needed so much help with was.

We both tuned in to a CB radio channel, and I followed him out the parking lot. It wasn’t too long until he gave me the rundown—a vampire nest, a big one, set in the middle of New Orleans. They’d been running a pretty tight operation for a few months now—maybe even a full year—just by sticking to taking homeless people off the street, people passing through town, no one who would be missed by the locals. Or, more importantly, no one who’d really be missed by the local police department.

At some point they got greedy. Blood-drunk, as King put it. There was a spike in missing person’s cases around the area, an increase in the stories about kidnappings and gangs roaming the streets. Their big mistake, I remember him saying, was when they tried to convert someone, and she ran out screaming into the street. Somehow, the poor woman managed to outrun them—and the story got back to King. And, I reckoned, the BoSS, if no stories about it ever surfaced.

That was all just the backstory—what he really needed me for, was taking them down. He’d managed to get in good with the vampires actually running the show—they based it out of a bar in the area, and held a “feast” for all the members of their group every month or so. King reckoned this would be the perfect opportunity to burn them all to ash, considering there was no way we’d be able to take care of them traditionally.

So we were going to burn it down, he said. The bar had a kitchen that used gas stoves. He planned on sabotaging the propane tanks to fill up the kitchen before starting a fire in the adjacent room to burn through the wall and blow the place up. It sounded stupid, and I said as much, but he only asked if I had any better plans. Really, besides torching the place, there was no better alternative, but that didn’t make me feel any better about the plan—especially considering that I was going to have to act as a willing “convert” for them to not be suspicious of me.

There wasn’t much to talk about after that, and there was still plenty of road to cover, so I turned off the CB radio and made a call to the Bureau.

“Hey—this is need_a_nightlight, calling in about a suspicious figure in the Central Louisiana area. I believe him to be a type of vampire—please advise.” There was silence at the other end for a few moments before the person at the other end spoke.

“You are to help King with his plan. Orders from the top. Will you two be needing assistance?”

I sighed before relying with, “No backup needed,” and ending the call. It was a damn rare sight to see a vamp nest this big go undetected for so long, and I wasn’t completely surprised to learn that they were fully aware of what was going on. It’d be more surprising if King had managed to actually infiltrate the Bureau, more so than just enlisting their help. It was a testament to what he told me, too—the BoSS takes no chances with entities that could turn against humans. The fact he was working with them meant that they had no doubt he was safe, even if inhuman.

What it meant for me to be assigned as the helper, I have no clue. Maybe it was just by chance, but looking back, I’m not so sure. The caller for that ghoul-case gone wrong hadn’t been the most urgent sounding, nor even particularly worried. Given everything that’s happened since then, it certainly could have been staged—but at the time, I didn’t consider any of that. Just turned the radio back on just to tune into King’s awful rendition of Highway to Hell. Nothing much happened till we actually got to New Orleans.

We parked a good few blocks away, me having changed out of my duds while King kept his jean-and-trench-coat look. (as a man who had no sense of style—it was bad. Pretty damn bad.) It was around 10 PM, I believe—a full two hours before the party started. Enough time to actually put the plan into action.

It was maybe a fifteen minute walk there. I think we just shot the shit, King making sure his pistols weren’t showing out the side of his coat. I did the same—it’s a prerequisite to have a concealed carry permit, the BoSS just happens to have a special one for exterminators. I don’t generally like handguns, but for a stupid plan like this? We’d need all the help we could get without putting more people in danger.

I figure that was my biggest problem with what we were about to do. Blowing the place up would take care of the vamps, sure—burning them to ash was a sure fire way to keep them from hurting others, but explosions and flames don’t exactly discriminate between human and non-human. It wasn’t as if we really had a better choice—at this time of day, everyone should be home, away from the particular part of the French Quarter that we planned to reduce to ash—which would mean we’d be saving more people by eliminating the nest than we’d be endangering with the propane tanks.

That still didn’t make it sit any better with me.

The bar was across the street from us whenever King spoke again, saying, “Alright, fresh meat. You ready? You’re really gonna have to lay on the eager wannabe schtick thick, here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I said, despite the fact that acting was probably my worst skill—right next to lying.

“Bullshit you do, but we don’t have time for that.” King said, patting my shoulder like we were old friends. “Look, just keep it cool, go along with whatever they do. As long as you don’t stir up a fuss, I’ll have time to take care of everything else. Just. Play. Along.”

I’d wager that it’s much easier to talk about playing along with vampires whenever you aren’t the type that they like to sink their fangs into, but I kept quiet. I knew damn well we’d only get one shot at this—any sort of slip-up, and we could kiss the chance to nip this in the bud goodbye. There’s no telling how many more they’d kill or turn before the Bureau would ever get a chance to root out the infestation again. Vampirism is, quite literally, a virus, just more on a macro-scale than anything else.

“Alright.” I said, after a second. Not like I really had much choice in the matter. Save lives, or, what, go and get drunk in some other shitty country dive?

“Thatta boy. I might actually start to like you, at this rate.”

“Don’t consider it mutual.”

King just laughed as we walked across the street. He waved at the vamp on duty outside of the bar, said something about how he was starving, how he couldn’t wait to get a bite to eat. Probably the most on the nose joke I’ve ever heard, even from him, but the guard just laughed and waved us in.

Now, I can’t exactly tell you what I expected from a vamp’s feast, but what was going on inside that bar was most definitely not it. Think a rave of a hundred crammed into a space maybe big enough for fifty. I don’t even know how we made it into the crowd, much less found ourselves in the middle of it, but I do remember King shaking hands with some mob-boss looking vamp and looking back at me.

There was no way I could possibly hear him over the music. They had speakers (almost as big as I was) set up towards the bar, absolutely blasting. Someone must have been bribed to ensure there were no sound complaints—but I digress.

I could have sworn he said “here’s the food.” while pointing directly towards me.

The mobby grinned, shook King’s hand a little harder, and finally let him go. King slunk off to somewhere unseen, obscured by the bodies clogging the bar, but the boss headed straight towards me. There was hardly room to breathe, but the vamps around him still managed to scoot out of the way, leaving a bubble of space between me and him as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I hear,” he said, “that you’re looking to become one of us.”

I looked into his eyes. He was perfectly passable as a human—no sickly sheen to his skin, his fangs barely more pronounced than regular incisors, overall looking the very epitome of health. Except for those damn eyes. They were slimy, almost glazed over, like a fish which had been dead for much too long.

I smiled. “Yes sir. I’ve been tired of living from paycheck to paycheck for too long. I just . . . I just want to have some fun.” I really couldn’t see anyone turning to these things out of anything other than desperation. Maybe to escape the law, or their family, or their own problems, but always to run away. I needed to tell him something—copying those reasons seemed my best shot. I thought it worked; the boss smiled, even nodded gently, and then took his arm away.

“Tie him up.” He said, those fish eyes staring me down.

I tried to fight back, but it was never a fair match up to begin with. Six or so vampires against one human? I might as well have been a mouse up against lions. A few moments of struggling later and they had me down against the bar, rope digging into my wrists. Someone had killed the music, an eerie silence already filling up the room. There was only the boss walking towards me, the tap of his shoes against the floors.

Just the boss, and the fact that King had left me for dead. Kingsnake my ass, he’d brought me here just to feed the rest of his friends. I don’t know how he’d managed to convince the Bureau he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact I was as good as helpless against an entire vampire nest.

I was able to turn my head enough to watch the vamp boss step closer, taking his sweet time in reaching me. “We’re getting real tired of you Bureau fucks trying to ruin our fun, y’know? Asshats like you thinking they can walk into our homes and take us out like trash. But you ain’t even one of the big guys, are you? You one of those regular exterminators. Probably only bagged a few spirits, too. The hell’s one of you pitiful bastards doing down here? I can’t believe you even tried taking care of this alone. Probably thought King was one of you, too?”

I stayed quiet. I was trying to give them less of a reason to speed up my most likely inevitable death, but it only seemed to make him even more mad. “Oh, you’re a pretentious little fuck, ain’t you? Probably some redneck piece of shit who’s only been in a city twice in his life. Yeah, alright buddy. Play the strong silent type with your throat ripped out.”

He gave some signal to the vampires around him. I barely caught it, just a flick of his hand, and the ranks advanced towards me. Just a few more steps and they’d be on me. I’m not a religious man, never was, but I tried my hand at praying then. Just in case. I tried thinking more of absolution than the hundred-something pairs of teeth about to dig in, no doubt all of them vying for their own special drop of my blood. I still get chills thinking about the look in their eyes. At that moment, I wasn’t a person. I was cattle.

And then the back of the bar exploded. Relative to the entrance, I was on the left, and the entire back wall went up in a flash of flames and sound. I don’t even think the vamps next to it had any time to react, speared through with flaming hunks of wood and stone as they were.

King was there, untying my hands a second later. I wanted to thank him, but it came out as more of a, “You’re an absolutely despicable motherfucker.”

“Woulda done that sooner, but I forgot we were going to have to block off the entrance. Had to circle back around to park some asshole truck in front of the doors.” He said, cussing as the ropes put up for a few more moments before finally falling away.

The confusion only lasted for about that long. The main body of vampires were still picking themselves or their friends up off the ground, but the explosion hadn’t touched me, or the boss, or his cronies. Too much of a buffer. It didn’t quite make sense–propane tanks, large enough to run two different industrial gas stoves, and they hadn’t blown the entire place skyhigh?

Probably not the smartest thing to think about while running from a literal bloodthirsty horde, but King was laying down cover fire as we ran back into the smoldering wreckage of the kitchen so I had a bit of room to breathe. (Bullets can’t kill vampires, but they still feel pain and their bodies take a minute to adjust to the shock of getting shot.) Clearly, King hadn’t completely emptied the tanks before starting the fire—presumably to save my sorry ass from becoming vampire-dinner—but as it was, the current fire wasn’t going to be enough to take care of the rest of the nest by a long shot. They’d escape through some way or another before the fire spread enough to do its job—which would mean that we completely blew our chance at this.

Unless we set off the rest of the propane.

“I’ve got a really stupid plan.” I called back. It was a longshot, but some of these restaurants didn’t have their own propane tanks. I wasn’t sure if that applied in New Orleans, much less to this bar in particular, but if we could find access to the pipeline on the street, we’d be able to take out a lot more than just the bar. Maybe even the entire block. Hell if I knew if there was even enough gas in those pipes to cause an explosion that big without letting it build up first, but it was our only shot. “Should be a natural gas pipe running under the street—if we can find the sewers, we can probably find the pipeline too. Take that out, and . . .”

“Boom. Yeah, alright, exterminator.” We just ran at that point, but not before King slammed the backdoor shut, pulling a nearby dumpster in front of it like it was no big deal. Normal vampires were a bit stronger than humans, but King? He must’ve been in a whole ‘nother league, just from that. Didn’t really think much of it at the time, though. I was too busy prying the manhole cover out of the ground with a piece of scrap for an improvised hook. It came up with a good bit of force, but King stopped me before I could climb down.

“This is where your job ends, I’m afraid.” It was the least pretentious thing he said to me since we’d met, which was more worrying than I’d like to admit.

“The hell do you mean? We still have half of a nest to take care of.” I’d shoved his hand off my arm. He just grinned back, smiling that same damn sharktooth smile as he did when we met. Same smile as whenever he held me down in that seat.

There was no humor in it. There never was. Just that sense of waiting for the right time to move in. The right time to corner his prey.

I didn’t think there could be a better moment than now. An entire nest, ripe for the taking. “I think you misunderstand. I have a nest to take care of. You were just helping. And you’d damn well get your ass out of here before this place goes up in flames, or the Bureau will be on my ass for months.”

“You better be damn sure you know what you’re doing.” I said, even as I moved out the way. King just laughed.

“How hard can it be? I break any pipes I see, wait a minute, and light a match. You just worry about getting far enough away, exterminator. Vampires are my area of expertise.”

I be damned if I didn’t feel sorry for the blood-drunk fuckers for it, too.

I was still running a few minutes later whenever the explosion shook the ground. It lit up the city like the world’s largest bonfire for a few moments, before it dimmed down into an angry glow on the horizon. Smoke filled the sky like thunderclouds, and it was only a few moments later whenever fire truck sirens started blaring. It took them half a day to stop the fires that broke out after the explosion, I heard. Burned down half the French Quarter, too.

King took his sweet goddamned time lighting up that match, but it was enough for the natural gas to fill the area. I still don’t want to think about how much that must have cost the Bureau in damages to the city, but the accounting part of the operation was never my problem. I do know that they printed something in the papers about a catastrophic failure with the city’s natural gas lines, but it never even made it to the news stations, much less the internet.

I know that blast didn’t take care of all of the vampires. There was no way that a few of them didn’t manage to weasel out of the building before the flames took it, and I wasn’t too surprised whenever I heard a few exterminators in the area talking about having cases taken over by the feds in New Orleans—but even that was pretty quick to stop. King worked fast, I’d give him that.

I was out of the city pretty damn fast, but I was expecting it whenever I woke up to a silver truck idling in my driveway. Took my time getting ready, too, just to pay him back for my almost-death, but I knew I owed the man a beer.

And that time, we didn’t go to some shitty honky tonk—I got to choose.

That was that, for the most part. We kept in contact, and every now and then King would call about some other nest popping up in my area, but they were much smaller, much more manageable without the use of blowing up entire city-blocks.

I think this just about wraps up this story, but again, comment if you have any more questions about the work, or how to become an exterminator. It’ll be a lot more tame for you, I bet, but you can count on some nice paydays if stuff like this ever does turn your way, and you have the stomach for it.

#creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #writers on tumblr #horror writing #series #NoSleep #nosleep series

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touyasdoll · 3 years

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Ash…bby…I’m just thinking about a thing.

The thing being Dabi and his fuckable-ness for lack of a better term.

Just like…how jealous Dabi gets when you’re being as helpful as you can around the LOV hideout? Cooking breakfast…tending to wounds when you can. Shiggy and Spinner have definitely noticed your presence.

You’re not doing anything wrong at all but the shorts you’re wearing are drawing the attention of other’s and while Dabi loves your confidence, he hates other people looking at you.

So he gives you a warning…then you wear them again 😈

Idk I just wanna start shit with some of my favorite characters and see how they’d handle it tbh

Lilith, my love!! Bless you and your beautiful brain 😩 I started this v drunk & am finishing it sober lmao bear with me pls.

Forever

pairing: Dabi/Touya x villain!reader

warnings: marking/branding, quirk play, possessive behavior, biting, exhibitionism, daddy kink, degradation (v light/to be safe), fingering, despite these warnings, he’s soft in this. Go figure.

“Thanks again for making breakfast. Sometimes I really don’t know what we’d do without you around,”Spinner’s smiling politely enough, innocently enough when he says it, but Dabi knows better.

He knows better, because he sees the way that fucking lizard’s eyes attach to your ass when your insist that ‘it’s nothing” and walk away to get to cleaning up the kitchen.

He sees the way Shigaraki ogles you when you take it upon yourself to tidy up the place. Bending over to pick up this and that. Shit that he knows the bastard purposefully left out of place just to watch you like he’s doing now.

He sees the way Compress can’t seem to keep his eyes off your tits when you’re hunched over trying to patch up the gash on his arm. The idiot always seems a little too pleased to complain to you whenever he’s been injured.

He sees it all. And he’s just about fucking sick of these entitled jackasses leering at what’s his.

It’s always the worst when you dress like this. Sure, he loves the view, but he hates sharing. Never has been very good at it. Never will be, he assumes.

Those skimpy shorts that and those shirts that hug your curves just the right way have the other men circling you like sharks in the water. You’re the freshly wounded prey.

It’s like they’re always waiting to pounce. Always waiting for you to open that door, just a crack. That would do it. At least they’re not dumb enough to actively pursue you. He would have to roast them if they tried and Shigaraki would likely drone on and on about that at the next meeting, if it were to happen. Another torture that he would rather be spared from.

So he thinks to minimize the risk. He asks you as politely as he can to, "Maybe not wear those shorts around the other guys, okay, doll?"

But do you listen? No. Of course you don't. Dabi didn't fall so head over heels for you, because you always do what you’re told. He figured you wouldn't exactly take to him policing your outfits, so he'd expected this.

And being the crafty bastard that he is, he’d come up with another solution.

"Hey, doll," he smiles sleepily at you from his position propped up against the counter, making you wonder when he slipped behind the open refrigerator door as you close it and nearly jump out of your skin.

"Oh!" You let out a breath, still instinctively clutching your chest, which is well defined by the low cut shirt you decided to wear today; out of spite, perhaps? He thought there was a good chance of it. "Babe, you scared the shit out of me!"

You playfully smack his chest with the pack of bacon you've retrieved from the fridge and he only smirks in reply, pushing off the counter to follow you to the stove.

His hands catch your hips, gripping them tight as he slides you in front of him, pinning you to the counter by pressing his stirring erection flush up against your ass, half of which was visible from beneath the shorts you'd decided to wear yet again today, unknowingly setting your boyfriend's plan into motion.

"Babe!" You chortle, admonishing him in a hushed tone while looking over your shoulder to see if anyone was around before you met his flickering blue irises.

"'S'matter, doll? Don't you like when I touch you like this?" His nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck before his teeth sink into it, pulling a soft groan from your lips that sends a jolt to his cock, prompting it to rise to full mast as he ruts against you.

"Y-yes, but—"

"Someone's gonna see?" He chuckles, a warm, dark echo against your skin. "That's the idea, sweetheart. Gotta remind these assholes not to touch what isn't theirs from time to time. It's a tough concept to grasp for people like us," he murmurs, dragging his mismatched lips along the back of your neck to litter kisses along the other side.

"'M'all yours, Touya," you whisper quietly, fighting off the moan hiding just behind your lips.

"And I'm all yours. You know that. I know that, baby," his tongue runs over your pulse and that moan of yours slips out. "But do they?"

You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning forward to bend you over the counter as he grazes the nape of your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy," you whimper, pressing your palms flat to the surface in front of you, eagerly pushing back against him in search of friction.

"Mm, we'll get to that in a minute, doll," he brings his lips to the shell of your ear, letting his breath fan over it before he growls, low and deep, "Daddy's gotta make sure that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His hand drops from your hip, moving to your thigh to slowly climb up the back of it while his palm begins to heat up. You squirm as the heat continues to rise, it’s not painful yet, but you have a feeling it’s about to be.

“‘S’okay,” he says softly, a quiet reassurance in your ear. “Won’t do it unless you want me to.”

The arm around your waist slides further south, slipping into your shorts, so that his middle finger can slide between your folds.

“Fuck,” he marvels in a hushed rasp. His lids fall shut and his cocks throbs against your ass as he discovers the slick dripping from your core. “You’re already so wet for me. Willing to bet you want me to do it, huh, doll?”

He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth, tugging gently as he plunges the finger into your empty hole, making you mewl, a cautious plea for more as you reach back and knit your fingers into his hair.

“Yeah, you want me to burn you, don’t you? Want to be permanently mine? All mine.” He draws out the the last word to the tempo of the slow and intentional rut of his hips, the idea clearly making him as excited as it’s making you.

You nod, a soft whimper spouting from pursed lips as your brows pull together, “Yes, daddy, please. Wanna be yours forever.”

A gruff grunt escapes him as you utter the word ‘forever’. He shifts behind you, sliding his hips to one side of your body to pin you to the counter and expose your ass cheek from beneath your shorts as he tugs it up high, wedging it between your cheeks to allow him access to the full expanse of your plush skin.

“You sure ‘bout this, doll?” He can feel his palm itching as it glides over the globe of your ass, he wants to do it already, but he needs to be certain. “No takin’ this one back.”

You inhale a quick breath and nod, insistent. “‘M’sure, Touya,” you breathe out. “Forever,” you repeat thoughtfully, bracing yourself against the counter with a tight grip on the edge of it.

His forehead drops against the back of your neck, another quiet groan leaving him at the thought of you wearing his mark for such an expanse of time.

It happens quickly. His palm suddenly and very briefly searing hot enough to leave a large, bright red hand print across your asscheek, the tips of his long fingers extending to peek out onto the very top part of your thigh.

You hiss, clenching damn near every muscle in your body as the worst of it hits you before all that’s left is the singing sting.

“I know, I know,” he assuages you with gentle whispers and even gentler circles on your clit. It doesn’t do much for the pain itself, but it certainly distracts you from it. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright, doll?” He seals the promise with kisses to the nape of your neck before he rests his chin over your shoulder, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your cheek before he murmurs another promise against it. “Forever.”

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that-yandere-life · 2 years

Note

I was wondering, what would Yandere Bucky and Natasha’s reaction would be someone killed their s/o right in front of them, after they being kidnapped?

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Death, Graphic Torture Scenes, Murder, Sad as fuck...]

Natasha-

Natasha watched with absolute anguish as your lifeless body fell to the floor, blood running from the corner of your mouth.

The man who had kidnapped you had stabbed you through the heart, not caring at all about you just wanting to get to her.

When you died, a huge piece of her died with you, a piece of her that she would never be able to fill.

All fleeing bits of sanity she had left snapped as her vision faded to red, trying desperately to acquire their target.

Leaping full force, wrapping her legs around his neck, ignoring the man's feeble attempts to stab her during the action.

Unable to tell that her thigh was grazed in the encounter as she ripped him and herself down to the floor.

Desperately grasping her legs to create a tighter grip around the kidnappers neck, holding him in place until he passed out.

Sure she could have ended it all right then and there, but she wasn’t going to let him get off that easy.

All the guy had done with killing you was signing his own death warrant, one that was going to be a long harsh drawn out process.

They were going to suffer, the way she was now going to suffer having to spend each moment of the rest of her life without you.

Sorrow didn’t even begin to describe what her heart was feeling, she was utterly destroyed, the only thing keeping her going was revenge.

Part of her just wanted to lay down next to you and hold you until she too perished, but you wouldn’t want that.

Tying him to a chair tightly as she couldn't care less if she cut off the circulation to his limbs, she was making damn sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

Dumping a bucket of freezing water over the asshole, startling him awake, letting him adjust to his surroundings wanting him to see how fucked he was.

Circling around him like a shark after her prey as it soaked in that he had clearly messed with the wrong person.

Gripping his hair in her fist, ripping his head back forcing him to look at her while she spoke, pieces starting to come off from the harsh tension.

Spitting in his face before releasing it yet again letting it bounce up and down moving to stand in front of the chair.

Thoughts of you racing through her mind, barely willing herself not to cry and show any weakness.

Rearing back, punching the side of his head several times, alternating her fists to the sides, a satisfying crunch under her knuckles with every impact.

Later her hands would hurt like a bitch but right now, it was a burn that made her feel alive for the first time since the light left your eyes.

Pulling out the same knife he had used to end your life she was ready for the main event, it was showtime.

Slowly plunging the knife into muscles around his entire body, knowing exactly where each major artery and organ was so she made sure to avoid any fatal areas.

Wanting them to feel every inch of the blade penetrating their flesh, the warm oozing of the blood rushing from the wounds.

Their cries of agony were music to her ears, like the chorus of her humanity slowly leaving her body.

Spreading the punishment out over several days she finally was beginning to grow bored of waiting for him to perish from the collaboration of her attacks.

Grabbing some piano wire from her collection of torture devices she wrapped it around his neck from behind.

Using all of her strength to strangle him to death, tearing his head back so she could watch every last moment of it.

Holding them long after the struggle had left their body, she had to be sure they could never hurt anyone ever again.

Finishing the job, she dropped to the ground sobbing wracking throughout her entire body begging to the air for forgiveness for not protecting you.

Feeling like she couldn’t have failed worse if she had tried, despite her intentions to keep you safe since the day she met you.

Now she had nothing else to live for, you were gone, the one who did it was gone, and she was left alone.

That was the day she gave up ever trying to be happy, those dreams laid to rest with you, the love of her life.

Bucky-

Bucky felt like a grenade had gone off inside of his chest when he watched you be dropped from the top of a tall building by the person that had taken you.

Diving off the side after you praying that he could reach you in time to protect you with his own mass but it just wasn’t possible.

Landing on the ground next to you, only he was fine where you never would be again, your eyes stuck open staring at him blankly.

In that moment he was no longer Bucky, the soldier which had long remained dormant inside of him was now all that was left.

Stalking back into the building and up the stairs to where he had left your murderer, since there was no where for them to go.

Having disabled the elevator there was only one way out, and no way to get around him; that was one thing he was damn sure of.

Ripping the door to the roof off its hinges sending it careening down the stairs, the noise filling the entire area.

Fear was the only expression on the perpetrators face, as they debated whether they themselves should chance jumping off instead of the soldiers' wrath.

Bucky wasn’t going to give them a chance to take the easy way out, he was going to destroy the man until his last breath.

Shooting the man in the leg with the pistol he had strapped to his ankle at all times, causing them to collapse to the ground in pain.

Gripping them by the throat with his metal hand lifting them up in a near instant, so fast that if you blinked you had missed the action of him moving forward.

Slamming them into the ground, not giving them a chance to catch their breath before he did it again.

The force of each impact cracking various bones, bruising various organs, and causing internal bleeding.

Still not enough to actually kill them however, he was merely incapacitating them to the point where they couldn’t get away with any amount of speed.

Throwing the guy over his shoulder, carrying him down, the ability to fight was no longer an option for him giving into his sordid fate.

Having no clue what he was really planning on doing to him, it was far worse than imagined that much was soon to be clear.

Going unconscious due to the various trauma’s waking up to being splashed by a large amount of water.

So much that it surrounded the man entirely, Bucky standing outside of the range of it biding his time.

Meeting his eyes, the mercy long having left his own cold steel blue ones, all that was left was revenge.

Motioning to the killer to look down there lay three car batteries hooked together by jumper cables at their feet, half covered up with water.

A smirk on his face as he walked over to the wall a lever attached to it leading to the main power supply.

Waving goodbye Bucky flipped it watching as electricity arched through the entire building in multiple places.

Leading up to the convulsing body sat in a metal chair, surrounded by water, the current killing off every last living cell within.

Finally having enough he turned off the power, the person who had torn him apart no longer breathing.

Something he now wished he himself had in common with the two of you, because he just felt empty now.

Sure he was used to losing everything he cared about, it was what his entire life had been filled with… but he never thought in a million years that he would lose you too.

Thinking back to all the times he promised you he would keep you safe, a promise he never intended on breaking but he didn’t get a damn choice.

Letting go he began to weep, dropping to his knees and holding his hands in his head begging the universe to tell him why you…

Suffering wasn’t new to him, but now he would never know another moment's peace, forever mourning the life the two of you once had at your fingertips.

Until the day he is reunited with you in the afterlife he will never be the same, a hollow shell of the man you once knew and loved.

[This was a hard one to write, because it is just angst, pure utter angst... I might have cried a little but I do like how it turned out! I hope that you all enjoy, and that it was what you were looking for! <3]

#yandere natasha romanoff #yandere natasha romanoff x reader #yandere black widow #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky barnes x reader #yandere winter solider #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark natasha romanoff #dark bucky barnes #dark winter soldier #dark black widow #dark natasha romanoff x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

leave your shaded hollow

custom commission for @borrowedblue! just in time for the end of mermay :)

warnings: blood, injury, fear, miscommunication

There was blood in the water.

Virgil pressed a hand against his shoulder as he swam, trying to stifle the trickles of red that were pluming out into the ocean around him and dissolving. He’d lost his bag somewhere in the scuffle, which meant that this scavenging trip had been for nothing and he now had nothing to stifle the bleeding with.

He shouldn’t have been bitten at all, but the eel swarm had ambushed him with practiced ease, and even a mer as quick as him hadn’t been able to dodge all of them. He’d gained a lead, but he couldn’t go home as he was now. They’d follow his blood trail for as long as they could, and if any of his neighbors were out and about…

The swarm would have no compunctions about changing targets for a slower meal.

Everything was dark down here, enough so that even Virgil, who wasn’t exactly a shallow-reefs type of mer, could barely make out more than shapes even with his pupils expanded to catch all the light they could. His sonar would have helped, but sending out a signal meant that other creatures could receive that signal. Not a chance.

A low glow caught his eye, and he dove down towards it, easily identifying the source as bioluminescent plants rather than a predator’s lure.

The plants were dotted and undersized at the entrance, but a bit further into the cave, against the back wall, he could see clusters of them growing strong and tall. Mindful of the fact that he had sparse moments before trouble caught up with him, he darted further into the cave, hurriedly gripping the plants at the base and tearing some of the fibers off.

As expected, they worked well enough as makeshift bandages, and he wadded a mass of softer, absorbant roots against the wound as makeshift gauze before wrapping his arm with the glowing fibers. The luminescence would be attention-catching, but if he covered it with his hand, he was sure he would have better luck than if he tried to escape while leaking blood everywhere.

He tied the faux bandages off and plunged his hands into a nearby cluster of plants, scrubbing off as much of the excess blood as he possibly could. If he was lucky, the concentration of bloodscent would distract the swarm here for a good while.

In front of him, the back wall of the cave suddenly lit up with bright, bioluminescent patterns.

Virgil froze, trying to comprehend the change. Had he brushed up against a cluster of coral or something? He’d never seen anything growing on cave walls that had such a distinct pattern, nor one that lit up so rapidly.

The ‘wall’ suddenly shifted back, and Virgil’s heart kicked into overdrive.

The cave was much, much deeper than it had first appeared, and much wider beyond this entrance tunnel-- the tunnel that had apparently been blocked off by the body of the creature before him.

He could only see parts of it as it shifted around, and even those were only lit partially by the plants’ dim radiance: sleek dorsal fins, the glint of sharp claws, and an enormous, ridged tail dotted with those luminescent patterns.

Abruptly, there were two huge, glowing blue eyes in front of him, scanning the tunnel with slit pupils.

Leviathan.

Virgil’s breath had gone still in his chest, frozen in place by the ice running through his veins. He’d heard the rumors about Leviathans, unspeakably massive monsters that lived down in the depths of the ocean, able to achieve impossible feats on a whim, with moods as tumultuous as surface storms.

The creature hadn’t seen him yet, the glow of his bandages helping him blend into the plants around him. It’s face was partially lit by the eerie glow of its eyes, and with how close it was, Virgil could see the twitch of its nose as it inhaled, scenting the water.

He barely kept from whimpering, realizing that his blood had thoroughly saturated the cave by now. If this predator was anything like a shark, he was about to be torn to shreds.

The creature leaned forwards, pupils gradually expanding to see better, and when its mouth drew closer, Virgil could see the mass of razor-sharp fangs that lurked inside. His stillness began to fracture under the force of his fear, and he drew in a tiny, shallow breath.

Those eyes flicked over to lock onto him in an instant.

In the next breath, Virgil was fleeing, past the cave entrance and the open waters, every muscle in his body straining to get away, get away, get away. He couldn’t hear whether or not the monster was pursuing, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, but he wasn’t stopping, not for anything--

Something collided with him heavily, knocking all the momentum right out of him as he went spinning through the water, disoriented.

He noticed the smell first: a thick and cloying iron tang, as though he was breathing in more blood than water.

A breath later, the pain caught up with him.

The eel was latched onto his side, sinking teeth deep into his abdomen and tearing at the flesh there. He choked out a scream, trying to drive his thumbs into the sea snake's eyes, but the rest of the swarm were close behind by now, and they began to circle and constrict around him.

He was caught. Even if he somehow got away, the new wound wouldn’t be so easily brushed off or bandaged up. He thrashed sharply against the swarm anyways, digging his claws into muscle and snapping his fangs at what he could reach, but for each eel he drove off, there were two new ones to take its place.

Gills blocked, barely able to move, he was struggling not to black out when he noticed a set of familiar glowing eyes in the distance.

Half the swarm scattered the moment the Leviathan drew close, apparently easily able to recognize the glowing patterns that flickered along its tail. The other half hesitated, unwilling to release their prey, but then it reached out with one huge, clawed hand, and the rest of the swarm vanished into the dark.

Virgil wished he could do the same, but being released had hurt almost as bad as being bitten, and his fins only fluttered weakly in response to his mind’s desperate shrieking.

The Leviathan’s hand curled around him, grip firm but somehow not blocking any of Virgil’s gillslits or even grazing him with any of those long claws. He managed a frankly pitiful wiggle of protest and then went stiff with the resulting wave of pain that rolled through him.

There was a little rumble from the creature as it drew closer, bringing Virgil up to its face. He went tense, scrunched his eyes shut, bracing for pain as he got nearer and nearer to those glinting teeth--

“Are you okay?” The voice was low, just above a whisper, and sounded surprisingly… young?

Virgil opened his eyes, finding that narrow, glowing gaze locked on him, dizzyingly close. The silence stretched for a breath, and when he managed to speak past his bruised ribs and the terror clogging his throat, the word came out confused and small. “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” the Leviathan informed him, turning him a little bit to inspect the injury. Virgil curled in on himself like a sea star, despite knowing that it was a pointless gesture. If someone this big wanted to take a bite out of him, there was little he could do to stop it. “It looks really bad.”

“Hurts pretty bad, too,” Virgil huffed out, watching the Leviathan’s every move, eyes tight with pain. What was the point of this? Was he going to die quick or slow? When? The uncertainty of it all made his spinal fins shudder.

“Oh.” The Leviathan recoiled a bit, his earfins drooping like a scorned child’s. “I tried to get to you before the eels, but they’re very fast. I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked and unfurled a little, taken aback by the giant’s earnest apology.

“If you’re sorry, you can-- can let me go,” he tried, speaking carefully.

The Leviathan cocked his head curiously, eyebrows drawing inwards. “But-- If I leave you like this, you won’t survive long. Not down here.”

It was true. His hands already felt numb, his fins distant, the cold encroaching as he lost more and more blood. He would succumb to his injuries before making it out of the abyss. He’d known it even as he asked, wondered if it was worth a slower, longer death just to avoid becoming prey.

The Leviathan tilted his head in the opposite direction consideringly, and then lifted his other hand and advanced on Virgil. “Hold still, please. I will try to make this quick.”

A shock of fear ran through him, trying to revitalize his sluggish limbs, but all his body managed was wave after wave of uncontrollable trembling. He couldn’t avoid the approaching claws, couldn’t even bear to close his eyes to avoid seeing his impending disembowelment.

The Leviathan’s fingers curled in, tucking the claws away, and it was a knuckle that ended up pressing solidly against his torso, right next to his wound.

“Please,” Virgil managed to force out, terrified and disoriented, not even sure what he was asking.

There was a low hum, the sound almost resonant, and Virgil watched as every glowing mark along the being’s skin flared up in hypnotizing patterns.

A short, searing burn, like accidentally passing over a too-hot vent, and abruptly, the pain was gone.

The Leviathan withdrew, brightening up with excitement. “I did it!”

Virgil barely noticed the grip around him relax, fumbling his hands over where there had formerly been a gaping wound. His fingers ghosted over thick scar tissue, perfectly aligned to where the bite had been, with no lingering pain to speak of. “What-- What exactly did you do?”

“I healed you,” the Leviathan replied proudly, and then hesitated. “Right?”

Virgil found himself tugged back up to the Leviathan’s face with a yelp, sending his heart racing anew. The giant’s gaze was narrowed fiercely as he inspected Virgil’s new scar, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a glare. The Leviathan was squinting, as though his vision was impaired.

“It’s-- No, yeah, it’s healed,” he reassured the deep dweller, a beat late. “But… how?”

“Oh! Healing magic,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious. “I wasn’t sure how well it would work-- learning magic is hard, but I’m a pro-di-gy.”

The last word was carefully enunciated, as though he’d mispronounced it in the past. Virgil struggled to come to terms with the fact that magic was apparently real, and that what was almost certainly a child had just used it on him.

“You should swim slow,” the kid told him, hand slowly flattening out to give him more space. “That way you don’t pull on the new tissue! How do you normally swim so fast?”

“I practice a lot.” Virgil pushed himself up into open water, waiting for the other shell to drop. Was a Leviathan really just… letting him go? “Why’d you heal me?”

“Because you were hurt?” the kid replied, doing that curious little head-tilt again. As though the answer was obvious. His gaze flickered between Virgil and the surface light trickling down from above, and he rushed out another question. “How do humans make such big structures float?”

Virgil’s tail flicked anxiously. He could leave, right now. The kid wouldn’t be able to catch him.

“I think they make them hollow, full of air, so they don’t sink,” he answered, watching as the kid wiggled excitedly, muttering about shipwrecks, his patterns pulsating brightly. He felt a little faint at the sight of that razor-sharp smile. “I’ve, uh, never met a Leviathan before. Who-- I mean, what do you eat? Just curious.”

“I eat krill and plankton mostly! And some plants that taste good, or help stomach aches,” the kid listed eagerly. “I’ve met a few little mers, but normally they pass out or swim away really fast when they see me.”

He paused and pressed his lips together, like he hadn’t meant to say so much, casting another glance at the lighter waters above. He was expecting him to flee, Virgil realized, and trying to ask as many questions as he could before he did.

… The kid had saved his life. The least he could do was be polite company.

“What’s your name, kid?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms as though to reaffirm that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

The kid’s fins twitched in surprise. “My name is Logan,” he replied, looking at Virgil with those wide glowing eyes.

“I’m Virgil,” Virgil said, flitting up a little bit to be eye level with him. “You, um… You got anything else you want to ask?”

This time, when Logan lit up with joy, Virgil slanted a smile right back.

#sanders sides #Mermaids #mermaid au #platonic analogical #ts virgil #ts logan #g/t #commissioned works #my writing #writing #lysh #leave your shaded hollow #oneshot

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clintbartonswife · 3 years

Text

misericordia

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes Summary: Sam finally gets to see Bucky again, but not in the way he’s hoped. @whumptober-archive no.12: it’ll be fun, they said Notes: torture, made to watch, begging. quite in depth description of torture, so beware. masterlist || part one

The door swung open, and a body was shoved into the room, metal shackles holding their hands and feet together.

The groan that escaped them was too familiar to Sam, and he strained against his restraints to better see him.

“He’ll be back with us soon,” the woman sighed, kicking him in the back as she walked past, grabbing the shackles around his hands and roughly dragging him upwards. Sam watched helplessly as Bucky’s head lolled forwards, body held up by his hands. “Got anything to say before he does? To save him that pain?”

Sam just glared, hands curling into fists by his side where they were strapped down to the chair.

“Very well,” she shrugged, picking up a metal rod from the table and driving it into Bucky’s stomach in one smooth movement.

The brunet wheezed, eyes blinking open hazily just in time to see the rod speeding towards him one more time. Still too out of it to cover the sounds of pain, Bucky let out a groan.

The noise seemed to grip at Sam’s stomach, twisting his insides with guilt.

“You’re sick,” he spat, eyes blazing as the woman wound up to swing the bat once again, “You know that we don’t know where your people went, so why are you still going?”

“That’s just the thing,” she smiled, “I don’t know that you’re telling me the truth - and until I know that, you’ll be kept alive. Afterwards, surely you realise I’ll have to kill you if you’re useless to me.”

“Not if we get out first.”

She laughed at him, openly and genuinely, “I struggle to believe that’s possible. Look around you, Mr. Wilson.”

“All I see is someone I’m going to enjoy beating into the ground.”

She sighed, crossing her arms, “If you’re so against helping yourself, then I guess it’s only you to blame for the dramatic action I’m going to have to take.”

Bucky finally fought the battle against his eyelids, gaze fixing resolutely on Sam. Unspoken words of trust travelled between them, before he was distracted by the steady stream of blood that had been gushing from the wounds on his thighs, Bucky’s look turning into one of panic. The bleeding had slowed down to a sluggish trickle, and Sam distantly noted that he had lost feeling in it.

“Nice to see that you’re back with us, soldat.” the woman greeted, finally catching on to their silent exchange, positioning herself in between the two of them.

“That’s not me anymore.”

She tutted, gripping his chin between her forefinger and thumb, “That’s always what you’ll be. We created you, and we can destroy you just as easily.”

Sam tensed his jaw as Bucky moved his head, freeing himself of the woman’s touch, “You don’t control me anymore.”

She just laughed at that, “What’s undone can be rectified easily enough.”

At that, the door in the corner opened once more, two men dressed all in black pushing in what looked like a portable battery pack attached to metal plates. His stomach dropped into the earth below as he saw the recognition in Bucky’s eyes, muted panic clear in the way that his lips pursed together.

“Recognise this? Who am I kidding - of course you do.” she talked as she circled around Bucky, movements reminiscent of a shark hounding it’s prey, “We can’t use the big machine straight away - you’ve gone too long without conditioning - but I’m sure you’ll remember this is just as adequate.”

“Don’t touch him!” Sam snarled, straining against his restraints.

The woman just tutted, ignoring him and bending down so that she was eye to eye with the brunet, “You have one choice asset - and it’s the last one I’ll give you for a long time. You can either be a good soldier and don’t fight against us as we prep you, or...” she trailed off, smirking as she nodded towards Sam, “You can watch as we turn your new friend in to our very own play toy.”

His answer was immediate, voice already cold and detached, “You don’t go near him.”

Sam shifted in his seat, “Bucky-”

The metal-armed man ignored him, staring resolutely ahead and into the woman’s face, “I can almost assure you though, this won’t work and when I’m free I will have no qualms in crushing your throat under my boot.”

The woman just laughed, patting his cheek condescendingly before stepping back, “Wire him up.”

As if the reality of the situation had finally hit him through the fog of blood loss, Sam began pulling at the leather restraints with new vigour, ignoring the searing pain that slashed through his body with every movement. Every few seconds, he looked back up to see Bucky getting hooked up to the machine, expression detached and emotionless.

He had given up.

The first jolt of electricity rushed through the machine, Bucky’s whole body going stiff as a rod as he fought every impulse within himself that ached to scream. He refused, not wanting to upset Sam anymore than necessary, but soon the pain was too much.

Sam flinched as the raw screams were finally pulled out of his partner, a singular tear escaping him as the leather chafed against his bruised skin.

During the data dump that Nat had released during their scourge on the previous leader of SHIELD, Sam had come across the video of Bucky’s so called ‘conditioning’. He had felt sick to his stomach, understanding more than ever why it was so important to find him. Even in his haze, he had managed to hide the videos from Steve, not wanting him to see his best friend in such pain.

The videos did nothing to show the pure horror of the actual process.

Sitting this close, Sam could physically hear the strength of the electrical current that shocked through Bucky’s body, the horrible sound not drowned out by his screams.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the sick sadistic smiles that were on the agents’ faces was enough to make Sam want to be sick. Despite his stint in the air force, he always managed to forget how truly evil people are, and the sudden reminder of the true extent of humanity’s evil was a shock to his already overloaded mind.

After what seemed like hours, the woman motioned for the shocks to stop, Bucky’s body going completely limp, shoulders heaving as he fought for breath. Somehow, the fact that he was still strung up by the chains made it worse, the position looking just that much more uncomfortable.

“Soldat.”

Sam watched with barely restrained horror as Bucky’s head rose in response. His eyes were dull.

A twisted laugh came from the woman as she grabbed his chin once more, the laughter growing louder as he made no move to try to escape the grip, “Just like I said, everything can be undone.”

“No.”

The word was quiet, barely a breath, but the woman whipped around to face him nonetheless, “Thank you for bringing the asset back to us. Truly.” She made a little hand signal to the guards, and they began removing the chains from Bucky’s body, “but I believe you’ve outgrown your usefulness.”

It was only as the guards retreated to the far side of the room that Sam realised what she intended to do.

“No.” he repeated, this time louder.

The woman laughed once more, cutting the restraints from around his limbs with a sick smile, “Better make it a fair fight.” She turned to Bucky and with a smug smile ordered him to ‘take out the spare’.

Bucky’s dulled eyes locked on to him almost immediately, beginning to approach him with a slightly off-kilter walk. His sweat-matted hair was glued to his forehead, and Sam just sat, knowing moving wouldn’t do him any favours. If he passed out right now, he was truly fucked.

“Bucky,” he heard himself saying, hands held out slightly in front of him, “You - your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your best friend is Steven Grant Rogers.” His sentence broke off as Bucky smashed a chair against the wall, missing his head by a centimetre, “You - god, please Buck. I know you’re in there. Please - you gotta come back -”

Sam closed his eyes as Bucky finally stood right in front of him, his heavy footsteps stopping a touch away from him. He refused to let the last thing he saw before he was killed be his friends soulless eyes.

After a few seconds of not-dying, Sam chanced a peek, mouth falling open as he watched the brunet whirl around and send two scalpels (he must’ve stolen them from the mess of equipment dumped on the metal table beside him) into the heads of the two guards.

With a borderline-animalistic growl, Bucky grabbed a butchers knife and raced towards the woman. Before she had time to fully process the situation, she was dead, knife stuck deep in her skull.

Quiet fell over the room, only the noise of Bucky's heavy breathing reminding Sam that he was, in fact, alive.

“Holy shit.” he muttered, scrambling out of his seat and towards the hunched over man, “Buck-”

He was cut off once again as Bucky’s full body weight rushed into him, immediately tucking his head in the safe nook between Sam’s chin and shoulder, hands gripping at his shirt tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, pressing loser to him as if he was trying to become one,.

Sam just rubbed his back soothingly, not moving until the larger man stopped shaking, eventually removing himself from his space, “Thank you - for y’know, not killing me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, avoiding eye contact.

“I know this is probably a bad time,” Sam said, gently testing the waters, “but I’m definitely on my way to bleeding out -”

“Oh shit. Right. Let’s get outta here.”

#whumptober2021 #no.12 #torture #made to watch #marvel #sambucky #captain america #whump #bucky barnes #bucky barnes whump #soldat #winter soldier #hydra #sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #marvel fanfic #marvel whump #begging

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zippers-flowers-and-wine · 4 years

Note

I have a request! another mer short- reader mer gets separated from their pod and meets/get adopted into a jojo pod

👀👀👀 I am Looking...

(I was so conflicted on what JoJo to write for, but I eventually just rolled a d8 lmao.)

(Also, this is what I imagine mermaid/man tails to be shaped like except with two long spines growing from were the dorsal meets the rest of the tail:

Orcas were awful beasts.

They way they clicked was terrifying, they were coloured in a freaky way, and they were just so damn big. Your pod's fighters always said that it wasn't that scary to be chased by them, that orcas were slow enough that a mer could outpace them as long as they kept going in a straight line...

But you wanted to call bullshit on that.

Because you were going top speed, putting all of your body into swimming away from these damned things and they were keeping up.

They'd ambushed your pod in open waters on one of your annual migrations, interrupting all of you as you'd travelled along the shore, following it down towards the cooler waters were you all lived until breeding time.

Usually, the migration path would have kept your pod over one large coral reef. It made it nearly impossible for large whales, be they False Dolphins, or Orcas, to hunt you. But the presence of human fishing nets in the area made the elders worried about the newborn mers, and it was decided that the pod would go cut across to the other path of coral reefs.

Halfway across, chaos had broken out. One particularly large orca had cut directly into the middle of the pod from below. It sent the mothers racing back towards the Coloured Path - the name bestowed upon the coral your pod usually travelled - while most of the larger mers of your pod immediately went defensive, hissing and snapping at the 3 others that started circling.

You were one of the unfortunate ones, caught up in the whirlwind of panicking gups and scared mothers. With the force of them shoving, and kicking out, you were thrown downwards; a lone mermaid, thrown out as an accidental sacrifice.

Naturally, the orcas locked onto you and here you were.

Swimming for your life as a whole pod chased after you.

You were too scared to look over your shoulder, unwilling to see the teeth that would be a few scant inches behind you, probably excited to tear into your- oh fuck!

Another orca, a younger one based one his size, lurched closer on your right, managing to land a punishing nip on your shoulder. It jerks you to a halt, ripping the wound open wider so you whip around, scratching just beneath it's eye. It squeals in pain, and you veer left squealing and ducking under another that had been waiting on you.

It's teeth snap around nothing, slick belly brushing against your flared spine, and you felt like crying out for your bearer. It was huge, easily 3x your width, and 4x as long as you.

The one that had injured you slammed into its friend with a mighty crash. Glancing back, you can see the two floating in place, clearly dazed from the impact. In your moment of distraction, another orca - also young - darts up from below, its dark body upon you before you can stop. It's teeth lock around your hips, pinning your fins down as it breaches and flings its weight back.

You screech, flailing as you're thrown into a wild somersault, launched out of the water several feet upwards as if you were a simple plaything. While airborne, your tail thrashes in some vain attempt to right you, unfortunately only succeeding in flipping you on your back mere milliseconds before you slam back into the water.

It stuns you, leaving you frozen and unable to pull in a breath as your own weight slowly pulls you down.

The anticipation hits you all at once, and you wait for the teeth. The pain of being torn apart and snapped in half by a whole pod yet...

It doesn't happen.

You can feel them around you: your earfins were designed to feel minor shifts in the water, feel how it gets warmer as bodies brush pass, and how it gets disrupted with every flick of a tail... But the pain never happens.

Peeling open your eye, you look around.

The orcas are a little farther away now, and there's more of them.

Two, no... Three adults, with four adolescents and their clicking makes your head hurt. Two of the adults are circling your still body, the final one - the one that had disrupted your pod in the first place - swimming around one of the unmoving adolescents.

The other three seem anxious, nudging and bumping against their sibling. The adult clicks, swims around him again, then makes a louder squeal that brings over one of the circling adults. They all start making sounds, the adult pulling away from the body with a neon tipped spine in its mouth. It wiggles side to side with it, almost as if...

Your tail fin twitches, and you have to clench your teeth to not cry out in agony.

That was your spine...

Beginning to shake, you've come to a chilling conclusion: They were using you for practice. Your venom spine had just killed the one that threw you out of the water, and the adult was using it to teach a fucking lesson.

Flexing a little, you realize your muscles have relaxed, no longer stiff from impact induced paralysis. Without really thinking - you bolt.

The orca that had been circling you squeals, but it - along with the others - isn't fast enough to react. You've already got several tail lengths ahead of them, and it would be unwise to expend their energy chasing you down, especially now that they were down one podmate.

Keeping up the breakneck pace, you don't stop until you feel well and truly alone.

Slowing, you pant for several long seconds, drifting with the currents.

Your gills are flared as much as possible, the pink slits sucking in water and jetting it out as you slowly turn on the spot.

Dark blue, dark blue, dark blue, dark blue...

Darkness stretched for miles in every direction.

Endless.

Directionless.

Thick, viscous tears well up in your eyes, floating towards surface.

For the first time since you were a guppy, you were alone. The currents pull at your body, pulling at your fins in a taunting manner, giggling and dancing about. All alone, they sang. Little mermaid, all alone, such easy prey.

Wrapping your arms loosely around your belly, feeling too exposed, you look up and sob brokenly. It's dusk, meaning you had been chased by those... Beasts for nearly two hours.

More tears gather in your eyes, floating away like the physical embodiment of your hopes and dreams, drifting out of reach.

You were fucked.

At the speed you'd been swimming, it was very likely that you were miles away from your pod, so all you could do now was pick a direction and start swimming.

You had to eventually run into something... Right?

___

It was completely black when you spotted somewhere to sleep for the night.

A cave, the bottom of which was covered in sand and rotting sea vegetation. Not the most glamorous place you've slept, but it was rather hidden from a distance, and deep enough that your bright colours would be muted to anyone passing by. The mouth of it was also surprisingly small, so anything larger than a shark would have some trouble wiggling in.

You, luckily, were smaller than a shark.

Pressing in head first, you wiggle your tail through, hissing when the sensitive flesh where your missing spine was rubs against the rocky cave mouth. Sliding through, you take a mental note of another entrance opposite of where you're settled as you curl up against the soft sand of the floor, folding all of your fins in tight and staring out into the blackened water beyond.

The stress of the day presses onto your shoulders, more tears well up, and you sob.

This loneliness, the separation... This was your new reality.

___

"Dude!" Okuyasu hisses, reaching out to snag his larger podmate by his shoulder. With a careful flick of his tail, he's leaning over Josuke, ears strained forward with a confused crease to his eyebrows.

Josuke flicks an ear, grumbling as he's used as a lookout post. "What dude? I'm too tired for-"

"Hush, Hishigataka." The young leader bares his teeth over his shoulder, immediately puffing up. Rohan doesn't look over, also staring intently at the neatly hidden entrance to their den. Josuke pauses, immediately losing all fight when he takes note of how restless the cecealia is. His arms are writhing around on another, bristling into various shades of darker green, and sickly yellows as his fins flare slowly.

"Someone is in our den."

Rohan's voice was deadly calm, yet it had an exciting effect on the others of his pod.

Okuyasu shivered, his spinal fin flexing excitedly as a near maniac grin started to twitch across his face. The large mer practically lived to brawl, all too happy to jump headfirst into a fight so he coiled his tail in close, ready pounce down the hidden entrance.

Mikitaka began pacing along side Koichi, the new cecealia anxious about the possible confrontation. Miki didn't exactly like any sort of violent interactions, and would always be the first of his podmates to shy away from any situations that looked like they may end badly, which was odd considering that his new form was well adapted to physical combat. Koichi was much the same, though his siren status made it a bit more understandable, since he wasn't physically capable of becoming as bulky as the other three. It also made him slower moving than them, his tail was really only meant to be flashy to attract any unsuspecting humans closer to him.

Josuke clicks, forcefully pulling their sudden excited agitation onto himself. The young leader keeps an eye on the small, seaweed covered entrance, but motions for them to all gather around him. "Alright, here's the plan. Me and Rohan will check it out, see if it's a pod we should really be worried ab-"

Rohan snorts, interjecting sharply, "I highly doubt it." Josuke sputters in outrage, but Koichi swiftly questions him before the larger pastel merman can freak out.

"W-what's that supposed to mean, Rohan - sensei?"

Smirking haughtily with that all too familiar look of "I know something you don't~", the cecealia points back towards the entrance with one of his thinnest arms. The tendril flicks lazily, matching his falsely carefree attitude s he drawls, "The main entrance hasn't been shoved around." He swims a little closer, with Josuke nearly right on top of him, to point at the thick vegetation growing around the well hidden entrance. "None of the seaweed has been pulled up, or ripped, and the rocks are perfectly in place. There's no scales that got caught on the opening, and the sand still has the faint imprint of the shells that Koichi brought last time."

Mikitaka clicks softly, coiling his limbs in close. "Forgive my ignorance, but what does all of that mean exactly?"

Koichi smiles at him, trying not to be too amused by his bewilderment. The guy had been turned into a cecealia by a particularly mean spirited siren a few months ago, and was still learning how to figure out life underwater.

Also seeming to take some kind of pity on him, Rohan explains, albeit with a rather haughty look. "What that means s that, while yes there is a mer in there, we don't need to be concerned about a pod." Josuke nods, a little more relaxed now that he knows Rohan isn't just disagreeing to get a rise out of him.

"Yeah. If anything, it may be a maid." Now it's Rohan's turn to look surprised, flicking his limbs as he sharply asks how Josuke figures that one. Koichi raises a brow, startled by how nonchalant he is about making that little inference. "Well, you said it yourself. There's no scales caught on the entrance, and even Koichi manages to snag some on the way in. That means it has to be either a cecealia, a guppy, or a mer smaller than Koichi."

Rohan snorts dismissively. "That's a moronic conclusion, Hishigataka."

"Eh!? How so!?"

"Because that doesn't explain how they didn't mess up the imprints of the shells, or how they managed-" Koichi's panicled wheeze cut their arguing short.

Wheeling around in unison, they follow the direction Koichi's outstretched hand. At first they don't see much, the rapidly deepening darkness impairing their vision, but eventually they do see and they want to tell various curses. Okuyasu had, at some point in their back and forth, wandered over to the entrance, slowly picking his way through the forest of green in front of it.

They could just barely see the glowing, golden tips of his venom spines weaving up and down. Josuke launches himself forward, his own bright pink and blue tail snapping as hard as possible to catch him up to his air headed friend, internally cursing his own negligence.

___

Peering into their home, Okuyasu doesn't immediately see anything.

It's dark, and the soft, sandy floor of the cave looks inviting, so he slips in. It takes a small wiggle for his hips to fit through, the fins having to lie flat as he works his tail left to right before sliding smoothly in. Glancing backwards, he wrinkles his nose at his small, dark blue and golden scales that he can see hanging off of the entrance, plucked free of his toughened hide thanks to how loose they were. "Yeesh, we gotta get a bigger den, man..."

Shhhfff...

His fins snap upright, flaring out as he twists in the dark. His pupils, having been dilated in his relaxation, immediately contract into dangerous slits.

That sounded like sand being shuffled around.

Josuke suddenly appears at the mouth of the cave, his bright blue eyes nearly glowing as he hisses, "What the hell are you doing, Okuyasu!?" He shushes him, holding a hand up while carefully swimming closer to the suspicious sound with his fins flared out. Josuke wiggles in after him, fins folded down as he slowly follows after him.

Sucking down water, Okuyasu jets out water and darts around the corner with his claws out, much to Josuke's yowling horror.

He slams into another body, very clearly a mer judging by the scaled tail that thrashes between his claws as he clamps down and sinks his teeth into their side. Another set of claws - smaller and more dainty than his own talons - rake across his back, making him hiss and flick sideways, slamming the smaller mer against the rockwall. They squeal, whipping their fluke at him as they twist. Okuyasu jerks back, twisting out of range of a poisonous spine that makes a lunge for his face. Josuke hisses somewhere to his left, but Okuyasu ignores him, reaching out for the intruder again. Startled, the mer ducks away from his talons, bolting towards the back. Josuke misses, just barely grazing the retreating fluke. The near miss makes him run, full force, against Okuyasu who had been about to give chase.

They both tumble to the sandy floor, sand flying up in great plumes that choke their gills, making both cough wildly. "G- Fuckin'- get off dude!" Okuyasu barks, shoving Josuke to the side. The small mer is frantically wiggling their way through the entrance, their panic making it harder for them to actually wiggle free.

Then they screech, tail flailing differently, now attempting to pull them back into the cave.

___

Oh go oh god oh god oh fUCK!

You're panicking, and you know it, and you know it's going to get you killed.

Being woken up by massive talons sinking into your flank wasn't the best thing to happen to you in your life, which was saying something considering the fact that you'd been chased hundreds of miles away from your pod by killer whales that only wanted some practice.

The mer that attacked you was big, scarily so, and he drove you downwards with his shoulder buried against your chest, and his teeth locked into the flesh just under your armpit. In a blind panic, you clawed at him, scratching at his back with your own, significantly smaller claws. The blood was billowing around the both of you, only barely blurring the outline of another mer pacing nearby. You couldn't see, nor register much of that one because the one attacking you didn't seem to apperciate having claws jammed into its spine. Apparently, it only served to piss it off because the bigger mer immediately used you like a battering ram, slamming your back against the nearby stone wall and stunning you for a beat.

When it backed of for a spilt second, slightly winded, you twisted away. Subconsciously, you thrashed your fluke at your assailant, momentarily forgetting about your missing spine as you made a break for an entrance opposite of where you had wiggled your way in.

The forgotten mer, a pretty streak of pink and blue, lunged for you, and you twitched just barely out of their range. They rocketed past you, ramming into the already wounded met and sending both of them to the floor.

Using that distraction, you started to attempt to wiggle free, cursing all of the inwards facing rocks that were hooking into your scales.

That's when you looked out into the ocean.

A small flicker of green movement.

Initially, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, so you brushed it off, wincing as you made some progress.

Looking back up revealed two, very distressing details:

1. Your mind had not been fucking with you, that really was sometjing moving.

2. That moving thing turned out to be two moving things, and they were two, very large cecealia.

Freezing for a spilt second, you make eye contact with the shorter male.

His head tilts slowly, a small, razor thin smile playing at the edges of his lips.

With a shrill cry, you start thrashing backwards, deciding you'd much rather try and fight the two mers inside than the two cecealia outside. You're so busy panicking that you don't even notice that another creature has approached until he gasps, gently touching your cheek and making you flinch.

Your head turns, and you meet two big, dark blue eyes. Silvery hair wisps around his soft, childlike face, wild and untamed, just like the hammering of your heart. He seems worried about something, gently brushing your tussled, ungroomed hair back and away from your face as his eyes carefully search yours.

You hardly even notice the clawed hands that gently touch the raw flesh were your venom spine used to be, or the pasty white cecealia that glides up to your side, carefully pulling you free of the entrance, or even the hushed words shared back and forth, whispered over the badly injured flesh of your tail.

All you register are those dark blue eyes that are getting darker...and darker, and you can't...

___

Mikitaka hums when the mermaid falls limp against him, his limbs pulling her tighter to himself in an effort to keep her from harming herself upon collapsing. His eyes flick over to Koichi, who's coughing into his elbow, the younger siren unused to singing for such a long period of time. "Good thinking, Koichi."

"A-ah, yeah... Thanks!" He's grinning from ear to ear, flowy fins fluttering from flustered delight. He's so unused to such positive reinforcements from people that aren't Josuke, Okuyasu, Jotaro, or Rohan that the poor thing practically drinks up any and all positivity.

Miki smiles, mouth opening-

"You. Utter. FOOLS!"

Then closing in a small grimace.

It seems Rohan isn't quite as pleased.

(Okay.... Okay okay, I promise I'll finish it in the next installment, I just like?? Got really carried away 😞)

[First: You're here!] [Next: Right Here]

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ahgaseda · 4 years

Text

to kill an empire || chapter 26

⇥ synopsis : when you agreed to marry Jaebeom, the heir to a lucrative but not quite legal organization, you never expected the boy who was once your greatest rival would inevitably become your most powerful ally…

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language, recurring gang violence, mentions of drug or alcohol abuse, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The scream that came from your mouth was unlike anything you had ever heard. You never thought yourself capable of making such a piercing sound of agony and fear.

Your captor had extended his arm beside you and fired a single shot into Jaebeom’s unprotected chest. In the split second of no longer hiding behind you like a shield, the sniper dropped him faster than you could blink.

“No,” you wailed, sprinting toward Jaebeom as he fell to his back. Collapsing to your knees, your body was driven by instinct and you overlapped your hands where the blood was pooling through his shirt.

Your husband released a low, distressed sound; as if breathing had suddenly become too hard for him.

“Bummie, please. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here. Please, don’t die.”

The few precious seconds spent with Jaebeom were gone as you were swarmed by people. Paramedics were swiftly at your side and you felt someone gripping your arms with the intent of pulling you away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you yelled and were quickly released.

Jinyoung tenderly called your name. He had mistakenly tried to part you from Jaebeom to let the medics do their job.

“We got it,” said one of them, trying to replace your hands with his own over the wound in your husband’s chest.

“No, I can’t,” you cried, shaking with adrenaline. You couldn’t risk any blood escaping his beating heart.

Jaebeom’s eyes were fluttering and his face had paled. Tears rushed down your cheeks and you pleaded, “Stay awake, baby.”

Mark brushed past Jinyoung, noting how everyone seemed too terrified of you to do what needed to be done. The bodyguard crouched down and wrapped both arms around your waist, hauling you backwards before you could process what was happening.

“Let go of me,” you screeched at the top of your lungs, flailing in his grasp. “Bummie, you can’t go. I can’t do this without you!”

Jinyoung grabbed your wrists to keep you from hurting Mark or yourself, grimacing at your blood soaked hands. The gravity of what was happening collided into you all at once and you folded into Mark’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably as he lowered you gently to the ground in his lap.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Jinyoung coaxed with a trembling voice, cradling your head to his chest. “He won’t go out like this.”

Jaebeom was loaded into an ambulance and taken away. Something in you shut down then. No more tears escaped and you slumped tiredly against Mark.

White hot rage filled your chest.

Jinyoung poured a bottle of water on your hands, cleaning the crimson from your fingers. You gazed blankly into the distance, but your mind was racing.

Finally getting to your feet, you allowed Mark to usher you into the black SUV.

“To the hospital now,” said Jinyoung.

“No,” you interjected.

Jinyoung and Mark turned to you in disbelief.

You leaned back and crossed your legs. Your face was stoic when you explained, “To Lim Corp. I don’t have much time.”

“But,” Jinyoung hesitated.

Another thought struck you. “Get Yuto on the phone.”

Jinyoung stammered, “But we have to…”

Heat flushed through you and you snapped, “Jinyoung, can you do your job or do I need to get someone else?”

Jinyoung leveled his eyes at you and frowned pensively. He recognized the work to be done and decided in that moment he would move mountains to help you get revenge. “I can do it.”

“Good,” you replied, giving him a single nod of your head. “Get him on the goddamn phone. I don’t care how.”

Jinyoung rifled through his pocket. The moment his phone was in hand, he whispered, “It’s him. He’s calling.”

You took the phone and answered, “Yuto.”

“It wasn’t me,” he told you gravely.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you from the tallest building.”

Yuto called your name. He sounded sympathetic.

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed, hands shaking. “Don’t you ever speak to me like there’s any shred or compassion left in either of us.”

Yuto began, “I truly…”

“I told you Jaebeom wasn’t the monster you want him to be. I told you he would find common ground with you, but instead you put a bullet in him!”

“I didn’t,” Yuto exclaimed, frantic. “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

You grit your teeth. “I will never believe you.”

“I swear on my mother.”

You paused, knowing the weight of those words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a steadying breath.

“My mother is the only person who ever loved me. I swear on my mother’s grave, I didn’t have Jaebeom shot.”

You could hear the sincerity and you could hear the slight moisture of tears seeping into his voice. Still enraged, you asked roughly, “Then, who did?”

Yuto answered without missing a beat, “Our father.”

The world spun around you for a moment. Your heart was suddenly in your stomach. That was too heavy an accusation for you to process. “Why the hell would Mr. Lim have his own son shot?”

Yuto replied, “Because Jaebeom wants to end it all. When he takes over, he wants to end everything illegal that Lim Corp has its hands in. The only problem is Lim Corp is built on crime. Nothing will be left but its shell. So Jaebeom wants to finish it altogether.”

You bit your lip.

“Our father will never allow his family’s legacy and influence to go away like that,” Yuto continued bitterly. “Why else would this happen right after Jaebeom forcibly took over the company?”

You shivered, suddenly cold, and asked, “This was a warning or a punishment?”

“Both.”

You sighed loudly.

Yuto called your name once more and said, “Do what you want with me. I admit - I wanted to kill him. I was so angry and I hated him for rejecting me. But now I see he’s the only family I have left. I couldn’t do it. I’m weak. I’m not like my father.”

“Neither is Jaebeom,” you whispered, glancing up to see Jinyoung on another phone.

Yuto paused, but finally asked tentatively, “What now?”

You squared your shoulders and growled, “I’m going to destroy him and you’re going to help me.”

“Done,” said Yuto.

You hung up and murmured, “Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung moved the phone away from his mouth and said, “They rushed him straight into surgery.”

Tears threatened between your lashes, but you held them at bay. Shaking away your emotion, you locked eyes with the bodyguard in the rearview mirror. Mark was steady, but he looked vaguely relieved.

“Mark, I need you to arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”

He cocked a brow. “With whom?”

Barely fifteen minutes later, Mark opened the back door and you slid out briskly. Never had you conducted a back alley deal before, but there was a first time for everything.

And you were a woman on a mission.

Mark stood poised at your side. With Jaebeom gone, you were now the focus of his protection. He had failed Jaebeom, but Mark swore he would not fail you. No matter the cost.

A figure ambled from the other side of the alley and the sight of him made you set your jaw.

Pulling a red lollipop from his mouth with a smack, Jackson asked lightly, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. Lim?”

You approached him a little closer, hell in your eyes, and asked, “Which is your master - money or power?”

“Money,” Jackson answered without having to think.

“You’re mine now.”

He smirked with amusement. “Is that so?”

You folded your arms. “Whatever Yuto has been paying you, I will double it. Whenever someone approaches you to betray me, whatever they offer - I will double it.”

Jackson fought a grin.

You spoke quietly, as if the walls had ears, “You will give me everything I need. I want undeniable proof that Mr. Lim ordered the hit on his son, my husband.”

Jackson put the lollipop back in his mouth, smiling mischievously as he turned and began walking away.

You shouted after him, “Don’t call me until you have it.”

Jackson waved a hand. “Yes, mam.”

You turned back to the car, putting your hands in your lap as Mark shut the door behind you. “Jinyoung?”

“Still in surgery,” he replied, phone to his ear.

You exhaled loudly.

When the towering skyscraper of Lim Corporation loomed outside your window painted in the hues left by the setting sun, you frowned in loathing. Swallowing back the bile in your throat, you stepped out and strode up the small incline.

There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for Jaebeom to pull through. Wait for Jaebeom to die. It was such a devastating game of tug of war that you had all but stopped thinking about it. In your mind, Jaebeom was away on business and you had to hold down the fort in his absence.

And so you had drowned yourself in phone calls. You needed to know who were allies and who were enemies.

Jinyoung and Mark followed you into the office, your constant pair of shadows. They hinged on your every word. You were in charge now. They were soldiers awaiting their orders.

Glaring at the chair before the windows, you imagined Jaebeom sitting upon it. That’s where he was supposed to be - not fighting for his life in a hospital.

You clenched your hands into fists and staggered through another breath.

“Do you want to be alone?” Jinyoung asked gently.

“Five minutes,” you replied. “Clock me. Not a second longer. Then, we get it done.”

Jinyoung nodded, shutting the door behind him and leaving you to your thoughts.

Across the hall, Mr. Lim stalked around the long table like a shark circling prey. The room was weighted with uncertainty and fear as each of the men watched him through shifting gazes.

Finally, Mr. Lim came to the chair at the end, reserved for the head of the company. Sinking into it slowly, he fought a smile and began, “It is with a heavy heart that I resume operational control of Lim Corp. And I vow to make…”

The double doors burst open and all eyes were on you as you marched in, not stopping until you were leering over your father-in-law. “I would apologize for interrupting,” you announced with force. “But this is my meeting.”

Mr. Lim glanced up at you, absolutely scathing. “Excuse me?”

“And you’re in my seat,” you hissed.

Mr. Lim laughed loudly. The board members looked at you in mixed confusion and shock.

You were quick to assert, “I am the acting head of Lim Corp.”

Mr. Lim rose slowly, both hands braced on the table. “On what grounds?” he asked darkly, jaw clenched.

“Spousal right,” you told him flatly, not the least intimidated by a man who would dare hurt his own child for the sake of greed and ego. “My husband is currently incapacitated, as I’m sure you’ve heard, and in his absence, all of his entitlements and ownerships fall to me - his wife. Lim Corp included.”

The blood drained from Mr. Lim’s face when he realized you were right. In every law and court ruling in the world, the spouse always won. “This is outrageous,” he snarled.

“She is within her rights,” added Mark from behind you.

You crept closer, scowling, and spat, “For what you have done to him, I will revisit on you a thousand times over. Jaebeom was kind. He was fair. You will never get an ounce of kindness or fairness from me.”

Despite Mark lurking over your shoulder, Mr. Lim cursed, “Listen here, you little bitch…”

Nothing in this man scared you. Especially now that you knew what he was. He was a sniveling coward and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to put him in his place. And so you leaned in and whispered for his ears only, “He was going to let you keep your pension. Your respect. Your honor and dignity. I’m stripping you of everything. I will ostracize anyone that tries to pay respects at your fucking funeral.”

“I will make you regret this.”

Mark had moved so close he was pressed up against your back. At any moment, he was going to sock your father-in-law in the face. He despised this man with every fiber of his being.

“Not hardly,” you countered calmly. “I have the proof, Mr. Lim. If you ever darken our doorway again, I’ll hand everything to the attorney general. Do you prefer to die in prison?”

Mr. Lim swallowed. He looked from you to Mark as if weighing his options.

The door opened, breaking the silence, and you didn’t bother to see who had walked in.

It was Yuto. Just as you expected.

Mr. Lim stomped past you and approached his son, snapping, “You and I will…”

“Don’t bother, father dearest,” you called after him. “Mr. Adachi works for me now.”

“If he dies,” Yuto trailed, glancing at you. “Hell hath no fury.”

Mr. Lim took one last look around the room, vowing revenge, and left without another word.

You released the breath you had been holding. Mark touched your shoulder then and you gave him the faintest smile of gratitude. Mark nodded, beaming with pride.

Jinyoung charged to your side, phone in hand. “It’s the hospital. They won’t talk to anyone but the spouse.”

You took the phone and stared down at the screen. You could hear the words manifesting in your mind, We regret to inform you…

Biting your lip, you held the phone to your ear and rasped, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Lim? This is Dr. Jung. We have been expecting you at the hospital to speak to you in person.”

Those words stung, but you maintained your composure and your response was icy, “I have been handling my husband’s pressing business affairs. I know that’s what he would want.”

“Of course. Of course. I did not mean to sound judgmental.”

You softened. “I believe you. Please tell me the nature of this call.”

“We have just left the operating room. The bullet was precariously close to his aorta, which is why the surgery has taken this long, but we were able to remove it and repair the surrounding damage.”

Your knees buckled and you landed in a heap on the chair, a sob bursting from your chest. You were vaguely aware of Mark’s hand suddenly on your arm. “He’s okay?” you cried.

Jinyoung and Mark both breathed in relief.

“He has a long road of healing ahead of him, but yes, we expect him to fully recover,” said Dr. Jung.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” you stammered. “I will be at the hospital very soon.”

“He may be unconscious for a bit, but I’m sure he will appreciate waking up to you by his side.”

You smiled, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “He most certainly will.”

Saying your goodbyes, you ended the call and handed the phone back to Jinyoung. Then, you glanced around the room. Every man seated at the table fixated their attention to you.

The smile faded from your face and you cleared your throat. Jaebeom had pulled through. You felt almost silly for ever doubting him.

Hardening your gaze, you laced your fingers together before you and scanned the room once more. The men were studying you cautiously now and your only regret was that Jaebeom was not there to watch you finish what he had started.

“Members of the board, my sincerest apologies,” you began gracefully, lifting the corners of your lips. “You’re all fired.”

chapter 25 ⇤ chapter 26 ⇥ chapter 27

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #im jaebum #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #jaebum scenario #jaebum au #jaebum imagine #jaebum fanfic #jaebum fic #got7 au #got7 angst

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mommy-medusa · 3 years

Text

y'all thought you'd seen the last of me? NOPE! enjoy a scene between Medusa and Athena!

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Medusa met her at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea around her island. There was a singular tree atop it, a giant, majestic olive, bearing juicy green fruits that Teddi would often snack on. Beneath its lush brambles, stood her visitor, glowing soft gold, staring out at the wine-dark ocean as the full moon reflected against the roiling surface and the shined armor she wore. When the owl arrived, it perched on her shoulder and tapped her on the cheek with its beak to get her attention.

Medusa still vividly remembered the first day they met. Teddi was only four at the time. They were coming back from a visit with Euryale, and the sky was dark and heavy with rain, but nothing could have prepared Medusa for what followed.

The storm hit them like a wall. Teddi dropped the rock she had been fiddling with and burst out crying. There were noises in the trees all around them. Visibility was zero.

For a moment, Medusa didn't know where they were.

Who she was.

Did she have a splitting headache on that day or was her mind just starting to make things up, back-projecting her memories like a faulty storyteller who kept forgetting details about the tale?

Whatever it may have been, it wasn’t even the worst part. There was something massive in the woods around them, something that circled like a frenzy of sharks who’d just smelled fresh blood. Medusa hadn’t been able to see who or what it was with the rain pelting into her eyes; the lack of sight was terrifying for her, as her main line of defense completely revolved around it.

Teddi was crying her little heart out, clinging to Medusa in terrified desperation. Medusa cupped the back of her head with her hand, pressing her face into her chest to muffle her strangled sobs, but it was not enough to make them hidden in the wake of what could only be described as a baby hurricane.

Something lunged out from the underbrush, and Medusa was prepared to defend her daughter, even if it meant dying.

But then there was a flash of white light, and a spear stabbed down into the beast’s skull, pinning it to the ground. Medusa looked up through the sheets of rain pouring down into her face, and a bolt of lightning lit up the figure of her celestial savior standing before her.

Now, however, there was no lightning to light the way. Instead, there was the full moon, and Selene’s glowing silver gaze backlit the goddess that had called upon Medusa to the meeting spot.

She was thin but muscular, donned in a pure white, full-length chiton that was padded with golden armor on her narrow shoulders and chest, its polished metal carved in the intricate design of an owl’s head coiled in olive vines. Shining gauntlets were clasped around her wrists, one hand holding a spear wound by a snake and the other bearing a shield of goatskin. A black cloak trimmed with emerald green serpents billowed in the slight breeze of night behind her, making her look like she had wings. On her head she wore a golden owl-shaped helmet, its gaze a glare of onyx. When she turned to Medusa, her eyes were as grey-blue as the ocean water and infused with light.

For a long moment, Gorgon and Goddess of Wisdom just looked at each other in silence.

“Athena,” the gorgon finally said.

“Medusa,” the goddess replied.

Medusa tipped her head at the serpent-trimmed cloak and snake-wound spear. “Did you bring those as a tribute to me?”

Athena’s face twitched slightly, like she was trying very hard to not react in a way that wasn’t mature. She was always like that, always keeping that dumb facade up because of the pressure put upon her by her father.

“I don’t tribute anyone,” Athena said curtly.

“I see,” Medusa said. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” She slithered up the rest of the cliff’s incline delicately, her long tail leaving no trace in the damp grass. She closed the distance between her and her visitor, getting right in front of Athena, so close they were almost touching. “Or have you come to see me?”

Athena’s face did that thing again, this time with more of a noticeable struggle. Behind her luscious wisps of brown-black hair, Medusa almost thought she could see hints of red.

“No,” Athena said harshly. “I have not.”

“Oh?” Medusa placed a black-clawed hand on one of Athena’s shoulders, tracing the weaving designs inlaid across her armor pads. “Then for what did you summon your little messenger for?” She eyed the owl, which had shifted its position on an overhanging branch. It blinked back at her with those huge, goggle-like eyes of its.

Athena opened her mouth, then closed it a moment later, seemingly cornered. Medusa had her prey right where she wanted her. Her lips split open in a wicked smirk, venomous fangs flashing in the moonlight.

“Are you sure, dear Athena,” Medusa purred, leaning her face in close to Athena’s, her tail slowly wrapping around the goddess’ legs, “that you have not come to sate your desires with me?”

Athena pulled away suddenly, stabbing her spear into the ground like she was trying to command the earth to crack open and swallow Medusa up for her words. Her cheeks bore the flickers of an interesting shade of red, which Medusa would have additionally teased her on if she weren’t completely engulfed by laughter.

“Medusa,” Athena hissed.

“I apologize, I apologize--” Medusa sputtered out through her laughter. She had respectively pulled back as well, but couldn’t help the fit of giggles that rolled through her. “You just make it so easy!”

Athena’s nose wrinkled slightly. She seemed to have calmed herself, though she still had the faintest tint of a crimson blush on her cheeks.

“I apologize,” Medusa said again, straightening herself up. “I’m good now.”

“Are you really?” Athena asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Medusa answered, her voice evened out.

“Hm,” Athena’s gaze shifted back out to the water. She looked like she was watching for something. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Ever since that night eight years ago, Athena routinely made trips back to Sarpedon. At first, Medusa didn’t understand why; yes, she treated her to hospitality and dinner as thanks for the rescue, but why would the powerful goddess of wisdom and war herself want to stick around with a monster and her human child? Eventually, she found out: Athena was as lonely as she had been. Though, it came in a much different form compared to what Medusa used to feel.

Try as she might, Athena could not shield off all of her emotions. She had more walls than anyone Medusa had ever known before (which wasn’t a lot, but it was still something), but once she created cracks in the granite, she was able to read her as clearly as Nyx spelling out “I NEED FRIENDS” with the stars.

Medusa quickly picked up on all the little quirks she hadn’t noticed the first few times she and Athena met up--the face twitch thing, the way she would sometimes fall into an obedient silence, the constant tenseness in her muscles like she never relaxed--but then she started spotting even more mannerisms: the sheer will she had to use to keep her voice level, the mindset that she wasn’t allowed to show any emotions that weren’t deemed mature or leader-like, the way her voice raised a few octaves when she was flustered or taken off guard, the panic she felt when that pretense did start to slip.

Personally, Medusa preferred the goddess when she wasn’t wearing that stupid mask she created for herself. She liked the awkward, endearing Athena that could make Helios jealous when she smiled and was really bad at crab catching.

But at the same time, Medusa could understand why she had such a thing in place for herself. She didn’t walk about it often, Medusa believed she didn’t like to in the first place, but Athena shared what she wanted. And with every snippet she let slip out of her own personal struggles, Medusa understood a little bit more.

To be the favorite child of the King of Gods himself must be like constantly walking on eggshells. Medusa had thought her monstrous parents had been harsh and disciplinary, but after hearing stories about what it was like having Zeus as a father made her grateful to have Ceto and Phorcys instead of the bearer of lightning himself. She couldn’t truly understand such an experience, but she got a taste of it through Athena: through the constant tension in her body like she was a coiled jungle cat ready to spring, through the practiced reserved tone of voice, through the tired eyes from constant pressure from her father, through the guilty looks when she did show emotion and the guilty looks when she didn’t show emotion.

Athena came to Sarpedon time and time again to get away from all of that, to finally relax, and Medusa was determined to help her with that.

Still. It didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to tease the goddess.

“Are you waiting on a boat?” Medusa asked, following Athena’s gaze out to the water.

For a moment, Athena went rigid, but it went away as quickly as it came. She was usually very good about fixing the slips in her demeanor; another thing Zeus and his excellent parenting could be thanked for.

But this time-- this time something a little extra lingered behind before Athena was able to bury it away with every other emotion that she deemed negative. If Medusa hadn’t been so in tune with the way Athena acted, she probably would have missed it, but it was there, flickering in the reflection of the moon in her glimmering grey-blue eyes.

Fear.

“No,” Athena answered. “Just watching the water. It’s a beautiful view.”

Medusa let it slide for the moment. As concerned as she was, she knew better than anyone that Athena didn’t like to be pushed. She already dealt with it enough from her father, Medusa didn’t want her to have to deal with it from her safe person, too.

“It is,” Medusa agreed. Then, hoping to ease Athena’s obvious worry, she added breezily, “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

Athena went rigid again, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. The blush came back, deeper than before, and she tried to hide it by turning her head away, but Medusa had already caught on.

“Thank you,” Athena said in a clipped voice.

“You always act as though you’ve never been complimented,” Medusa said, sliding up next to her so they would both be standing at the edge of the cliff.

“On my strength,” Athena said. “I get complimented on my strength. And my fighting prowess and my ability to kill people.”

“Oh, so do I!” Medusa grinned at her.

“Not on-- on--”

“Your beauty?”

Athena looked away again, but the glow of the moon reflected against the red of her cheeks. “Mmm. Sure.”

“You know, one day I’m going to make you admit it,” Medusa said.

“Admit what?”

“That you’re pretty.”

“Mmm,” Athena made the noise again, something she would do when she was caught between a rock and a hard place and didn’t know what to say. “Over my dead body.”

It showed up again- the fear. It remained a little longer than the first time, and Medusa even heard Athena suck in a sharp breath before she was able to regain control of herself again.

The first time was worrying enough for Athena, but a second? Medusa was going to give the goddess one more chance to either open up herself or quiet her anxieties before she stepped in.

“Anyway, I’m immortal,” Athena went on hurriedly. “So it won’t ever happen.”

“Well, I’m immortal, too,” Medusa said. “So I’ll just wait it out with you.”

There it was again, and so close to the second time, too. Something really had Athena unsettled. But before Medusa could begin questioning her, Athena spoke up before she could, halting her words for the moment.

“You’re not immortal,” Athena almost growled. “You can die.”

Silence. The owl overhead shifted on its branch, as on edge as its goddess.

“Athena, what’s going on?” Medusa asked. “What’s wrong?”

Athena looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Athena--”

“Nothing is wrong,” Athena snarled, using the voice she often used for war in hopes that it would scare Medusa into leaving her alone. But the goddess of wisdom seemed to forget that Medusa had two monsters for parents, more specifically Ceto for a mother, and nothing was more frightening than the way they would roar when she or her sisters did something bad.

“Athena,” Medusa softened her own voice. She raised her tail and slipped it under Athena’s chin, making her look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Athena was quiet for a moment. Medusa thought she was going to give her the silent treatment before she finally relented, “A man approached me earlier today. Perseus. He asked for my help in slaying you.”

Medusa was silent.

“I didn’t agree,” Athena went on quickly, sounding slightly panicked. “I refused his request and sent him away. But still. I worried.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: Athena, goddess of war, known for her incredible skill in battle, was freaked out for her sake. Out of all the things she had seen, the lifetime worth of carnage she had witnessed over the years, the tons of gore she was often drenched in during times of war, all the battles and the violence and the death, it was a man saying he wanted to kill Medusa that got her worked up.

Medusa began to laugh.

Athena was startled. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Medusa flicked her tail. “It’s just-- you have probably witnessed enough bloodshed and violence and other horrors to strike a mortal mind into complete insanity, and this is what frightens you?”

Anger flitted across Athena’s expression. It was more common than most of her other emotions, but still didn’t come out very often. When it did, Medusa thought she looked like a fiercer, adorable, more attractive version of Ares.

“Should I have agreed then?” Athena asked. “Maybe I should have given him a ride over on my giant owl?”

“You have a giant owl?”

“Not the point,” Athena snapped. “The point is that a man wanted to kill you and you are laughing.”

“Athena, darling, if you haven’t noticed, a lot of people want to kill me,” Medusa said. She could tell her lack of worry was getting on Athena’s nerves.

“No, you don’t understand!” Athena said, and she sounded completely panicked, now.

“Athena, breathe--”

“He was a demigod.”

That made Medusa pause. She blinked.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I see. How peculiar.”

Athena looked anguished. “Yes, and he’s dangerous. To you and to Teddi. And if anything happened to you, I--”

Medusa cupped Athena’s cheeks, silencing her. The goddess’s eyes were as big as the moon when she looked at her.

“Athena,” Medusa said, her tone both calm and commanding at the same time. “Breathe. It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen.”

“But--”

“Nothing,” Medusa cut her off, “is going to happen. Just breathe, darling. It’ll be alright.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: the goddess of war and wisdom herself actually listened to her. Athena gave her a tiny nod and then shut her eyes, taking several deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“Good,” Medusa purred, wrapping her tail around Athena. “I’ve handled myself well enough over the centuries, have I not?”

Another small nod.

“Now, tell me, dear Athena: who is this man?”

Athena finally opened her eyes, and Medusa could see that several of her walls had been let down. She could feel it, too; against the scales along her tail, Athena’s muscles were loosening their vice on her bones and her posture was slouching ever so slightly into Medusa’s grip.

“His name is Perseus,” Athena said. “He’s one of my many, many brothers, but this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Your father sure does know how to get around,” Medusa commented.

Athena snorted. Medusa loved it when she would laugh. “Tell me about it. But Perseus came to me asking for aid, something about your head being a gift for a king. I didn’t listen very much. I sent him away as quickly as possible.”

“And you were worried about me,” Medusa cooed, brushing back some of Athena’s hair. It was like silk against her fingertips.

“Yes, I was,” Athena said. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”

“You underestimate me, dear Athena,” Medusa said, leaning in. “I’m stronger than you think, and-- may I kiss you?”

With her jaw hanging open slightly, Athena nodded.

Medusa smiled, closed her mouth for her, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She craved the warmth Athena’s body held.

“As I was saying,” Medusa went on. “Nothing will happen. Everything is okay. You can relax now, my darling.”

Athena opened her mouth, most likely to object, but then closed it and nodded silently. Medusa kissed her again.

“I do, however, find your worry both adorable and incredibly attractive,” Medusa said, making Athena red. “Sit with me.”

They both sat on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the ocean. Medusa still had her tail loosely wound around Athena, but Athena didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t making any effort to get her off.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Athena whispered at one point.

Medusa looked at her endearingly. “You won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Athena nodded slightly.

“You were right,” Medusa said, gazing at the water. “The ocean is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Athena mused.

Medusa laughed. “Bold, are we?” she grinned. “First my heart, now my words? What’s next, my dear Athena?”

Athena was smiling, now. “Your favorite citrus tree? I have yet to decide.”

Medusa laughed some more. It was moments like this that really made her think about what her life had become. So much had changed in a span of only twelve years, and though it moved fast, she enjoyed every minute of it. She held those memories like stars, and they seemed to be laid out before her in the glittering night sky as she sat there on that cliff, Athena by her side, thinking.

#medusa’s child #medusa #athena #greek myth #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #greek stories #medusathena

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carelessannie · 3 years

Text

Because I have no patience, here’s the first chapter of my three part Reverse Little Mermaid Winteriron AU

while we're devoting full time to floating chapter one: floating in a blue lagoon

Rating: T (for now) Word Count: 3.5K Relationships: Tony x Bucky, background Natasha x Wanda Warnings: Prejudice against Merpeople, Steve’s kind of an ass, boat violence, magic use Read on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

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Spring-time has broken— making way, quickly, for a blazing summer. Celebratory music carries from the interior of the city, echoing from the palace in the center all the way out to the surrounding villages, drawing citizens closer— like moths to a joyful flame. Heading in the opposite direction, unseen by guards and villagers, two silhouettes slip toward the shoreline.

Up ahead is an expansive boathouse, accessible only by royal decree and permission from the crown. Bucky lifts up on his toes to check through the window for officers or other sailors— no one in sight. His key easily unlocks the door and he holds it open for Alpine to sprint through.

Bucky pads across the dock, heading for his humble fishing boat and checking for guards, whistling low between his fingers to call his Border Collie to his side. Alpine comes bounding over, shaking out her pure white coat, and pants, eyes wide with excitement.

“Quiet, Alpine,” he hisses, motioning to stay low, “almost there, girl.”

Towards the end of the dock, he can see his boat. Restored over years of hard work, The Widow sits proudly at the end of the line, beckoning him to sail away. He helps Alpine climb inside and makes haste to cast off, pushing away from the dock and dipping his oars into the gentle waves.

The sun is hot, but Bucky doesn’t mind it. His gaze is locked ahead and his focus is sure. The waters are quiet as he rows out into the open ocean, letting the current push him parallel to the coastline and away from the village.

It’s not like he’s running away— no. He just knows his brother would stop him if he knew, and it’s far too close to migration to wait another day.

After a while, he sees the cove— his favorite spot, sheltered under a familiar rocky cliff— and steers towards it. Once he’s close, Bucky tethers the boat to a nearby boulder. He helps Alpine out and climbs up the jagged rocks, settling over the water.

Here he adjusts his covering and removes a few flat stones, revealing provisions he stored long ago in a discreet iron box. Bucky lays on his belly, wiggling until he can peak over the edge.

Then he waits.

It doesn’t take long. With lenses pressed to his face, his enhanced view picks up movement below. Three large figures, cutting gracefully through the crystal clear water, swim into focus. Bucky holds his breath, taking only a moment to scrawl a few details onto his journal pages. Remarkable.

He watches the Merpeople hesitantly explore the cove underneath and talk animatedly between each other. Bucky only hears snippets of conversations as they surface, and it seems like a dark haired, red-tailed Mer is their leader. The other two— the first with bright red hair, and the second with darker skin— follow the red-tailed Mer around the shallow waters, inspecting rocks and plant life, talking distractedly about a settlement nearby.

“These waters are clear, no remnants left from past colonies.”

Bucky knows this already. He’s been observing Mer migration patterns for years, and none of them ever stay long enough to impact the nearby ecosystems. Still, he jots down a note about their self awareness.

“Still, the access to resources and deeper waters is desirable in this area.”

This Bucky knows as well. Outside of the cove and the surrounding reef, there’s a steep drop off down into unexplored waters. He’s tried to swim down a few times, but hasn’t yet found the floor.

Finally the red-tailed Mer speaks, he voice deep and alluring, causing Bucky’s head to snap up in surprise—

“I’m sure the King would be thrilled to hear of this discovery,” he drawls, and something in his tone convinces Bucky that this King would decidedly not be pleased. “Take a few samples, keep them close. I’ll study them in my lab when we get back and present them to the King myself.”

Bucky has to stop himself from chuckling. He understands exactly how this Mer feels about his King, and he’s instantly endeared. He can’t, for the life of him, tear his gaze from the red-tailed Mer. The man is striking, beautiful and full of life, and Bucky has never seen one like him before. His body is lean and toned like most Mers tend to be, but something about his posture screams authority and importance. He sighs, knowing the three of them will probably move on, migrate further south and into warmer waters.

He pulls away to take a drink from his water flask and sees a flash in the corner of his eye. Something approaching— fast and dangerous. The Mers below are oblivious, and the next thing he knows, they’re being circled and cornered by three, large Tiger sharks.

Bucky gets to his knees, gripping the rocks as he watches the sharks close in, forcing the Mers to press together a few meters in front of the cove.

The largest shark attacks. It’s a flurry of motion and violent waters as the other two follow suit, converging on the Mers from all sides. It seems as though each Mer fights a single shark, and they draw vicious, serrated weapons to slice through the water.

But the Tiger sharks are quick. The largest one whips, lightning fast, and catches the red-tailed Mer in the chest, sending him careening into the rocky wall. The other two Mers are chased away. They dodge and swim through the shallow waters and disappear out of sight to avoid the close pursuing sharks. Bucky glances down, watching in horror as the largest shark closes in on his prey below.

The red-tailed Mer isn’t moving, and the shark is swimming closer. Bucky scrambles, picking up his own hunting knife, and stripping off his shirt and boots before diving off the cliff.

His attack takes the shark by surprise, and Bucky plunges into the water, striking clean and slicing through the predator. Blood pours out of the open wound and Bucky has to surface, gulping in air as he watches the shark retreat.

He sheaths his weapon and turns, looking for the injured Mer. Bucky dives down and sees him drifting against the rocky wall, propped up and unconscious. When Bucky gets closer he finds blood, fresh and urgent, seeping out of the Mer’s wound— dead center on his chest.

Without hesitating, Bucky pulls the Mer up to the surface. He swims, slowly but effectively, back to the cove and rests against the rocky shore, letting the vibrant tail hydrate in the water.

“Hey,” Bucky looks into the man’s face, gently pushing back a thick strand of dark hair, “wake up, please. C’mon, I need you to wake up.”

The wound is still bleeding, slower than before, but persistently trickling down into the pool of water.

“Okay, okay… dammit,” Bucky curses, “stay here,” he instructs, mostly for his own sake, and sprints out of the cove, climbing the rock face to retrieve his shirt and a few supplies. Herbs and spices can usually make a good potion, even for inexperienced users— which Bucky definitely isn’t . He rubs a few together in his hands as he ducks back into the cove, kneeling next to the unmoved Mer. Gently, so gently, Bucky presses his fingers against his skin to rub the potion into the wound, wrapping it tenderly with strips of his own shirt after.

The Mer groans, hunching in to protect the wound instinctively.

“No, darling, let me heal it,” Bucky begs, laying the man down again while he works. He looks around. It would help if there was...

Aha! A golden ring dangles from the Mer’s neck, a perfect vessel for a healing spell. Bucky slips the ring on his own finger, taking a deep breath before performing the spell. It’s taxing. It hurts. But Bucky can see the ring glow and flex on his finger, accepting the enchantment and waiting for it’s impending assignment.

The ring is laid back on the Mer’s chest, still attached with the delicate chain, and Bucky is satisfied when he sees the wounds rapidly closing. He sighs in relief, holding the Mers hand and feeling the delicate pulse even out. He wishes he could see the man’s eyes, at least once. Damn the King and his stupid laws.

Movement, stirring from the Mer, and Bucky knows he must go. He can’t help but lean closer, studying the breathtaking features of this man’s face and pressing a lingering kiss onto his temple, before withdrawing and racing for his boat. He whistles for Alpine to join him, and takes off for the village. He’s been away far too long, and the King is bound to have noticed his absence.

---

“Do you know what you have done?”

The King, his brother, is fuming— full of violent rage that even Bucky shys away from. He had pulled Bucky off his boat the moment he returned, ordering the guards to seize him and The Widow for crimes against the crown.

“And to see the Merpeople again, I should have known. How could you, Buck? Openly disregarding my decree and putting all of our people in jeopardy— for what? Research?”

“He was dying!”

“Better him than another one of us.”

Bucky recoils, “You don’t mean that. The Mers have always been peaceful—“

“And that’s because they are ignorant of our existence— dammit Buck! What if he had seen you?”

“He didn’t.”

“And he won’t.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks, daring to look his brother in the eye. All he finds is cool indifference.

“It means that until further notice, I’m confiscating your traveling privileges. You will serve in my court and retire to your chambers, guarded as to not leave the grounds— is that clear?”

“Steve, what the hell—“

“You may keep the company of your dog,” the King, his brother and best friend, sets his jaw and points towards Bucky’s beloved boat, “but as a consequence for disgracing your King and country, my guard will take care of your transportation.”

“No!” Bucky cries, fighting the strong hold on his arms as two members of the royal guard unceremoniously drop a torch into his boat, setting it on fire. “Damn you, Steve!”

They let him struggle, thrashing and yelling to no avail, and the crowd watches as his most prized possession is burned to ashes. Bucky falls to his knees, speechless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the King retreat, walking out of sight without even the courtesy of a dismissal. His vision blurs red.

Steve never listens.

The guards haul him up by the armpits, but Bucky barely even notices. He lets himself be dragged away and led back to his quarters, collapsing onto his bed with a sob as they lock the doors behind him. He feels Alpine crawl up next to him, and he holds her close, soaking her fur with heaving, furious tears.

When the sun goes down, Bucky packs a bag. It’s not an issue to find a way out of the palace— he’s been doing that for years. The issue is tracking down his contact, making sure she still lives across the bay, and convincing her to help him. Her allegiance is strong with the King, but he thinks he might have the upperhand to a few of her debts.

Bucky drops a quick kiss to Alpine’s head, tying a note around her collar. It won’t help to have her starving and the kingdom torn apart in his absence, so he quickly charms the letter to sooth and calm it’s readers. That should give him enough time to evade any search and rescue.

From there, it’s a simple shimmy out the window, a well-timed jump across a few balconies, light-footed paces through empty streets, and then, thankfully, a straightforward hike out of the city. The sun has long since set. Bucky pushes forward, ignoring the increasing chill as he climbs in elevation— his destination is just up ahead.

Before he crosses into her wards, Bucky comes to a stop. He searches the ground for… yes! A small ring of stones lies around her cottage, strengthening her security and vigil over her land, and Bucky kneels in front of them, gently laying his fingers on the ones nearby. It only takes a moment of letting his walls down, power flowing down his arms and into his hands, and he smiles to feel a warm thrum in response. The wards accept his familiar presence, and he stands to make his way to the cottage that lies behind the tree covering.

“You had better have a good excuse to be here, James.”

He hears her greeting before he spots her in the doorframe, curves silhouette tantalizing and a stark contrast from the light within the house. He smiles, picking up his pace and running forward, “Oh, Nat. Damn, if it isn’t good to see you.”

Natasha lets him swing her up into his arms, but gives a stinging flick to his ear.

“I’ve already heard of your transgressions, James. When will you just accept your brother’s rule, and learn that his word is law?”

Bucky sweeps into the cottage and leads the way to her personal rooms. It seems as though someone else has been living in this space— there’s another, strong, trace of magic intertwined with Natasha’s. He ignores her implications and raises an eyebrow, “Who are you hosting, Nat?”

The grin Natasha throws him is downright feral, and Bucky almost regrets asking. She brings her fingers up to her lips and whistles, brief and sharp.

“Her name is Wanda, she will join us momentarily,” Natasha pours him herbal tea, gesturing for them to sit in the living space. He allows himself to put his bag down, but he lets himself fidget a little bit— cataloging his urgency to his friend and trusting her to pick up his unspoken needs. “Tell me, pretty Prince— why are you seeking me out after such drama, at this time of night?”

He frowns at her moniker, but decides to give it to her straight, “Steve’s bias has gotten out of hand. I witnessed an exploration party of three Mers out by my cove, and there was a shark attack. The leader of their party was knocked unconscious, so I intervened to stop the shark from killing him. I had to swim him to safety, Nat, and I enchanted his ring with a healing spell. I left before he could wake up, and when I got back…” Bucky breathes, breaking his eye contact with Natasha, “well, it sounds like you’ve heard the rest.”

Her face falls in a genuine show of regret, “I’m really sorry, James, I know how much—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, “I just need help convincing Steve that Mers are worth protecting. He just sees them as a threat, and he hates their ignorance about us. He doesn’t trust it. But they’re incredible, Nat, honestly. And this one I saw today… damn.”

Her eyes gleam, mischievous, “Oh? You have a crush on the Mer you saved and healed with your magic— how surprising.”

“Shut it, Nat,” he hisses, rolling his eyes as she cackles, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful in my life. And, I don’t know, something about how he spoke, his voice and his humor—”

“James, I hate you.”

“— excuse me?”

“I now owe Clint a very large sum because of you.”

When Bucky fails to react, Natasha just sighs, “He bet you’d fall in love with a Mer. I just didn’t think you were that stupid.”

“Hey! I’m not in love—”

“Sure, Jay,” she laughs, turning to face the back stairwell as Bucky throws a pillow at her, “oh! Wanda! Please, come in and meet James.”

Standing at the bottom of the staircase is a petite girl, maybe a few years younger than Bucky himself, with auburn hair that rivals Natasha’s in brilliance. He can feel her power from here. A shiver runs down his spine.

She’s careful to walk into the room, as though any sudden movement may set off a catalyst of magic strong enough to rip the room apart. And he honestly doesn’t doubt that could happen.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces them, and Bucky reaches to take her tiny hand in greeting. She looks one part terrified, and another part… angry? She still shakes his hand and mumbles a pleasantry. He knows that if Steve were here, she would probably be arrested for insolence to the crown or something comparable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. You can call me Bucky, everyone besides Natasha does.”

The look on her face says she will most likely not be calling him Bucky.

“Well, why don’t you spend the night here, James?” Natasha asks, standing to her feet and gliding into the kitchen, “we have a spare room, and can talk strategy in the morning.”

“I’d rather—”

“I insist,” Natasha cuts him off. She pours him a glass of water and pushes it into his hand, “I’m going to sleep. You know where the guest room is.”

“Isn’t…” he awkwardly motions towards Wanda, confused about the sleeping arrangements until he sees the flush in Wanda’s cheeks, the salacious grin on Natasha’s face.

“You don’t worry about us, our arrangements work just fine. Get some rest, James,” and with that, Natasha disappears up the staircase with a small kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. To his surprise, Wanda doesn’t move a muscle. She’s still staring at him, and it starts to get uncomfortable as they sit in silence.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, how did you—”

“I can help you with your problem.”

He does a double take, “— get… uh, what? Which problem?”

Wanda takes a seat across from him, but her posture is anything but relaxed. It’s her facial expression that makes him freeze— not just anger and fear, but knowing. Understanding. He curses himself because instead of scaring him, the knowledge in her eyes draws him closer.

She tilts her head to the side, slightly, “With your Merpeople. And with your brother. I’ve seen the conflict and I witnessed the shark attack. I know how your heart thrums in time with this red-tailed Merman, and how you long for it to beat in time with your brother, the King.”

“How do you—”

“You assume Natasha told me, but rest assured, my power and devices stretch far beyond her secret spies. I have a deal to offer you, and in return, you will earn the ear of the King and the heart of the sea.”

Bucky gives her a suspicious eye, but in reality, his heart is pounding. This girl, barely old enough to inherit land, is offering him the depths of his desires. But he knows mages, understands their loopholes and caveats.

“Tell me, Wanda— what is your scheme? What would be my payment?”

“Simple,” she answers, gaze going distant, “I’d first give you access to the King of the sea. Through the Mer you saved, his only son, you will forge a treaty between land and ocean. I will give you a way in, but in turn, you will have to enter the same spell all Mers are under: to forget and lose humanity. You will still remember names and faces and stories, but all will be in a cloak of ignorance. Like them, you will have no knowledge of the world above.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “How am I supposed to forge a treaty between the two worlds if I can’t remember the one I’ve come from?”

“A royal alliance will break the spell. Marriage or covenant between the Prince of the land and Prince of the sea will not only break the cloak of ignorance on your mind, but also the ignorance of all who live in the Mer kingdom.”

His mind is racing. On one hand, he’s never easily put his trust in a strange mage, even one who seems to be… intimate with Natasha. On the other, he’s been looking for a way into the sea kingdom for years. Her spell could be the bridge that brings everything together.

“Oh, but there is one catch, James.”

“I knew it.”

“If you cannot get the Prince to fall in love and wed you, the enchantment on your memories will keep progressing. You will not only forget humanity, but you will completely forget yourself as well.”

“Does Natasha know you’re offering me this deal?”

“She knows we’re discussing it, yes.”

“How long would I have until my memories start to fade?” Bucky asks. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this.

Wanda seems to consider it, “No less than a month, no more than three.”

“So I’d give up my humanity, get this prince to fall in love with me, and break the spell over their kingdom. If I can’t do it, I’m lost to the sea forever— sound about right?”

Her mouth quirks up in a smile grin, “That’s about the gist of it.”

He thinks about Steve. About his life in the city— all the people who would miss him, and about Alpine and Natasha and even his royal guard. He thinks about the stunning, striking Mer from this afternoon. His ruby scales and cutting wit. Bucky desperately wants to see his eyes.

He looks down at his hands and sighs, straightening his back in determination.

From there, the decision isn’t hard.

#winteriron #Mer!tony #Mage!Bucky #tony x bucky #tony/bucky #fanfic #wip #bucky barnes #tony stark #King!Steve Rogers #kind of violent shark attack #magic use

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