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authoressskr · 3 years

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Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Part One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

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

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

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes and no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you both know it’s from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Horny?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you found me, handsome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS**

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ivyyreid · 3 years

Text

greek tragedy

description: breakups are hard. but you usually don't completely change who you are and start killing, right?

category: angst

tw: mentions of self harm, eating disorders, breakups, knives, mentions of stab wounds, death, suicide, blood, men, guns, self-loathing, one-sided love.

masterlist

sometimes, i don't know what haunts me more.. the memories of you... or the happy person i used to be.

two years and two months ago.

spencer came into the bullpen with a gleam in his eye. a shy kind of happiness. the kind that makes you blush, and makes you embarrassed. the kind that makes people feel like kids again.

vivian came in with the same smile. the same red on her cheeks, the same glint in her eyes.

they both felt like kids again. happy, and in love.

they held hands under the table in the conference room. everyone noticed. and everyone smiled a bit more, knowing that two happy people are now making each other happier.

the night before, vivian and spencer had kissed in the rain under the stars. after an eternity of falling for each other, they finally gave in.

when they came in the next day, vivian's blonde hair seemed a little more golden, her eyes a little more warm. spencer's face seemed softer, and relaxed.

they played in the park, and watched nineties movies, and ate thai on the roof while watching the stars. all with the biggest goofiest smiles on their faces.

because you're nothing if not crazy when you're in love.

two months ago

blonde hair stained brown.

pink lips turned red.

a realtionship gone sour.

they broke up last week. they stood in the rain once again. but this time the rain didn't bring hope, and a new start. this time the rain fell, tainting the blue sky gray.

the girls heart shattered onto the pavement. pieces on the sidewalk, pieces in the grass. pieces being washed away by the rain.

no one knows what they said to each other, how it ended.

all they know is that the cuts on vivian's wrist are fresh, and that the numbers on her scale have rapidly declined.

she came into work on monday, her golden blonde hair painted dark brown, her young pink lips stained blood red. everyone stared, except spencer. she stared at no-one, but spencer.

she was there for a day after the breakup. maybe two. long enough to know that someone else had already brought a gleam into spencer's eyes. that someone else was already making him happy.

no one saw her after that. she left quickly and quietly. one day, her desk was personalized and filled with framed pictures, the next it was empty and bare. you could say that her desk matched her heart.

now, she lies on the floor of her bathroom. head pounding, rivers of red seeping onto the tiled floor.

one month ago.

seven men stabbed twice in the heart, all dead, over the course of two weeks. all left with red carnations.

the bau accepts the invitation to take on the case.

vivian watches the news coverage announcing the bureaus involvement, a smirk dancing on her face as she applies a new coat of lipstick.

one week ago, at the bar.

the bar is full of bodies. bodies against bodies. dancing, sweating, living.

the tall brunette, with the red lipstick and cold eyes slips off her coat, revealing the small black dress underneath. the heartless predator.

a drunk mans eyes follow the woman's every move. analyzing her every curve, watching the way her lips part. he sets down his glass and walks over. the unsuspecting prey.

he makes his way through the crowd, licking his lips as he nears vivian. her blonde hair, now turned brown, and her blood red lips enchant him.

her finger plays with her straw, spinning it around in her drink as she makes eye contact with him. she tilts her head slyly, and smiles a bit. egging him on.

"jonathan," he says, standing over her.

"cleo," she responds, flipping her dark hair over her exposed shoulder. she stands up, hand on his tie, and leans forward to whisper seductively in his ear:

"let's get out of here, jonathan."

three days ago, at the bau.

"we have a new body," hotch announces as he walks into the room. he pins a few pictures to the board. the first, an image of a smiling man. dark brown hair, dark eyes, and a square jaw. the next few are the body. dumped carelessly in an alleyway. two stabs to the heart, and red carnations scattered onto the body.

"woah," emily says, concern lacing her voice. "that makes fourteen bodies now."

"she's devolving," morgan adds. "speeding up the kills. her last kill was only one day ago, she's getting more dangerous. but she's also more likely to slip up."

the team nods to this, each thinking their own separate thoughts. eventually, they will all come to the same conclusion. the same suspect. but they won't share their ideas until it's too late.

the teams profile:

the unsub is female.

she recently suffered heartbreak, and has a newfound prejudice against men.

she changes her appearance each time. wigs, makeup, etc.

she stabs each victim twice in the heart, which must mean something.

she leaves red carnations at each scene, which means "alas for my poor heart, my heart aches," in some cultures.

she is highly intelligent, driven, but also depressed and self-loathing.

she is likely to have self-inflicted wounds, and possibly try and kill herself.

one day ago, vivian's apartment.

vivian stares in the mirror, and the woman in the mirror stares back at her.

a blonde wig is tossed carelessly on the floor, and boxes of colored contacts join it.

these objects are supposed to be able to change who you are on the outside, but to vivian, they're crushing her even more on the inside.

she doesn't recognize the woman in the mirror. the dark straight hair, red lips, and hollow eyes. the woman in the tight dress and heels.

she looks down, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over her face. this isn't the girl that spencer loved. she isn't the girl that spencer loved anymore.

and then she looks back up, and her heart stops. because there she is.

the girl in the mirror has long, wavy blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. her eyes are full of life, not hollow and lifeless. her lips are pink, her cheeks flushed, her face innocent. her sundress hangs perfectly around her frame, and underneath her bright converse her socks mismatch.

the girl that spencer loved. the girl vivian stopped being when spencer stopped loving here.

the image takes vivian's breath away for a second, and a tear slips down her face, but she doesn't stop staring at the reflection, hoping that if she stares hard enough the girl will die and leave vivian alone.

her stare turns into a smirk. smirking at the innocent, dumb, oblivious girl. laughing silently at her.

the girl was oblivious to the heartbreak that awaited her. the emptiness that would creep into her soul.

the girl that was so blindly in love with the man that didn't care for her, even though he acted like he did.

maybe she was still in love with him. just a bit. even after he broke her heart, she still loved him. but she also hated him.

fuck spencer.

a couple of hours ago, bau.

vivian's face is front and center on the tv. her blonde hair, green eyes, and large smile.

the team sits around the table, shocked at the conclusion they came to.

vivian, their ex-coworker who always seemed so perfect and happy, is the unsub? vivian killed fifteen men?

they may want to deny it, but they all know it makes sense.

she broke up with spencer and completely fell apart. she quit her job. spencer says she was angry and sad and completely broken, hence the hate towards men. and the killings started around the time her and spencer broke up. even the number of stabs on each body makes sense. two stabs for two years her and spencer were together.

they're all shocked, but most can still talk, and move, and discuss. spencer is just frozen.

how could vivian have killed someone?

forty-five minutes ago, vivian's apartment.

spencer looks around the apartment, flashlight held and gun drawn.

when he used to come over, the apartment was homey and life like. plants would hang from the ceilings, and would sit on shelves. books were scattered on tables, and the floor to ceiling bookshelf would be disorganized. she used to have pictures of her and the team, and of spencer everywhere. but now it's bare, and empty. if spencer knew any better he would think no one lived there at all.

the team does a quick search, clearing all the rooms before gathering again in the living room.

"she's obviously not here, but she knows that we know it's her. she's been wanting us to know." derek says, and glances at spencer. "spencer, is there anywhere she liked to go, anywhere close?" he asks, and spencer furrows his brow.

"the roof! she liked to watch the sky!" he says suddenly, and hotch nods. the team climbs up the flights of stairs to get to the roof, which at first glance appears to be empty, until spencer notices a woman sitting against the chimney.

"spencer no way, she's armed man," derek says as spencer moves forward, but spencer tells him it's ok. he knows her. she has no intention of hurting him.

vivian stares at him, a tears falling down her face. spencer sits down next to her, eyes widening when he notices the knife in her hands. pointed at her own heart.

"vivian..." he says cautiously, taking in her died hair and red lips, "this isn't you. put the knife down." at this, vivian collapses into a fit of sobs, trailing mascara down her cheeks.

"i'm so sorry spencer," her voice is shaky and she's crying, but she keeps the knife pointed upwards towards her heart.

"please vivian just put the knife down," spencer whispers, his voice cracking a bit.

"i can't spencer, i have to do this," she sobs. "i killed....i killed so many people and i can't stop myself and i still love you but i hate you and you broke my heart but i have to do this spencer."

the boys eyes are sad, because deep down he knows he can't stop her from doing this. but he'll still try,

"please vivian, i-i love you," he pleads, but vivian just shakes her head, and laughs through her tears.

"no you don't spencer," she whispers, smiling a bit. "but it's ok. you will never have to hurt the way you know that i do," she says, and spencer knows whats coming. her grip on the knife tightens, and in a flash she jams it into her heart, gasping a bit as it deepens.

"no!" spencer yells, as she slumps and collapses. blood trickles from her lips, and her tears spill from her eyes. but still, she smiles. because it's finally over.

her final breath isn't sad, it's relieved. because she doesn't have to suffer anymore. the sadness, pain, and anger is finally gone.

spencer is tearless. her death was shocking, sad, but it was truthful. maybe she deserved it, even wanted it, but spencer knew she was going somewhere where she was happier.

happier without him.

as spencer stares at her body, laid out on the concrete, he sees the girl he loved. the blonde hair, sea green eyes, and the innocent face.

innocence, purity.

and all he can think about as she's wheeled into the ambulance, covered by the blanket is who she used to be. who she really is.

the beautiful, happy girl.

maybe one day, in another life she'll find true love.

who knows?

all anyone knows is that the day that her heart poured a red river onto the concrete, she started over. she began anew.

and maybe that was better for everyone.

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the-remainder · 3 years

Text

Greetings weary traveler,

we present you with the second part of the Tale of the Fog Children. Thank you for reading and let us know if you enjoy our tale so far.

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, this is a bonus short story that takes place in the world of The Remainder, a dark fantasy visual novel, you can play Act 1 by clicking here.

Tale of the Fog Children

Read part 1 here

Part 2 of 3

Sometime after midnight, soft footfalls told me that someone was approaching. I sat in front of the fire facing Sestra as she neared and gestured at some straws I’d laid down earlier with my pipe. Sestra pulled back her hood, her surprise that I was expecting her quickly replaced by urgency.

“I needed to tell you something, sir, but I’d like an answer first, if you please?” A note of desperation was in her voice.

“Your children…” I paused to let the fact that I knew sink in, “…are in that fogdune. We can help them, but I need to know the truth.”

Sestra heaved a sigh, her whole frame slackening as if a weight had been dropped.

“You have to understand, sir, that we loved them dearly, both of them. Things were hard. We had scarcely enough to eat, being simple cactus herders. The way they took ill, we’d given everything to the temple, and that was just enough to keep them at death’s door, you see?” As she spoke, her eyes became red-rimmed, and she poked at the fire with a twig listlessly. “I guess you know about their birth too? About the Howling Eve?”

I puffed on my pipe and nodded.

“We’d hoped it was only tales, but the illness, the paleness of their skin, it was too much to ignore, see? The mentee told us how they should have been one, and the low ones’ howling made them... They said…” Sestra choked up, her knuckles pressed hard into the centre of her chest, like she was trying to loosen a painfully tight knot inside. I knew that knot, I almost reached a hand to my own chest.

Instead, I drew deeply on my pipe and blew mapacho smoke over her as I silently chanted a mantra to soothe the heart.

After a while, her breath grew steady, and she resumed her story. “There was no cure. We were going to lose them both, you see? And Teha, my sweet girl, she drew the short stem, see? Only Teho was going to be fit to carry on the family work, and the bloodline.

Girls here, we had but two ways, incense tenders at the temple, or wed away for a dowry. And so, when another Howling Eve came, and they grew so cold and the colors were gone from them…”

The light had left her eyes, she was reaching the centre of the knot. I stayed as relaxed and steady as an old well and blew smoke on her as much as I could, focusing on the mantra, on listening.

“…We gambled. We… hardened our hearts. Duma used to say we chose to give all the medicine to one child, but now I think we did no such thing. We chose to give up the other. My Teha… my Teha…” Tears glittered in the dancing firelight, but her panting and choking was calmer. Now or never, I decided.

“The fogdune had been lingering near this village ever since Teha passed, correct?” I asked.

Sestra nodded, wearing her teary veil unashamedly.

“Insect-like things live within those dunes, neither flesh nor spirit. They live on the borders of the Seas. When a person with a strong bond to someone passes, pieces of their heart linger on that border, and the insects sometimes absorb the pieces, where the person can exercise some will in the world still through these insects. The ones that inhabit this fogdune took Teha, and that’s how she lingered here.

She had a bond to someone. But the insects could not survive too far away from the shores’s moisture. They kept her from entering the village until...”

Sestra’s hand covered her mouth now, she whispered. “Until she missed Teho too much…”

“Correct, twins share a bond that sometimes transcend boundaries. Teha surely had called to Teho. He must’ve been strangely attracted to that fogdune.”

“He was, we chided him so many times… Then Teho went and… by the depth…”

“You could not keep them apart for long, they would find each other, eventually. When Teho entered the fogdune, the insects would’ve absorbed his heart as well. And when you burned the Longing Leaves, which compelled lost loved ones to return home, their longing for home overwhelmed the insect’s natural habits. That’s why the Fogdune is over your home now.

The howling you heard, and the overwhelming sorrow you felt is the children’s longing and the despair of the insects. They’re trapped there, dying. We must free them.”

Tears burst from Sestra. She wailed, all the bottled up guilt and loss coming out at once. She rubbed at her eyes, brushing again and again with her long sleeves, but the tears wouldn’t cease.

I stopped scrubbing with the smoke, mapacho was telling me to let her be, and he was usually right about such things. Those tears healed her more than anything I could hope to do. I closed my eyes, and before long, saw a blackness lift from her Reflection - the energies of a person made visible by a magus’s Sight.

A firelight bobbed along in the distance through the trees, I’m almost out of time.

“Sestra, listen to me, you must lead the fogdune away from here, or they will all continue to suffer, the insects, the children, Duma, everyone.”

“I… how?”

“A keepsake of Teha’s, she was the first host, her will is stronger. You need something she’d loved, something she’d not easily forget. I trust you have such a thing.”

Sestra’s hand reached for her chest again. She opened her mouth, but stomping footsteps interrupted and set her jittering. Duma emerged from the trees bearing a torch and a scowl. His gaze upon Sestra was loaded with accusation, but he carefully avoided my eyes.

“You had to blab, didn’t you?” He snatched Setra’s wrist and lead her away, spitting out. “She’s been stricken by what’s happened. She says things. You shouldn’t believe her.”

“Duma.” I used my chanting voice, feeling the deep, subtle rumbles in my entire torso as I spoke. “The past is in the past, I only want to help you now.”

At that, Duma planted his feet, balling up his free hand into a fist. He said with his back to me, “You can help by leaving us be.” His voice was sand and cinders.

“And your neighbours? If you don’t heed me, your house will not be the only one lost. The fogdune will move soon, it will keep moving from one house to the next, until it’s deplete of Waters and dies in agony.”

“And what’s it got to do with me?”

“Because your children are in that fogdune.”

Duma was vibrating with tension. It took some force of will for him to stay still like he did, but I knew I had his attention.

“If you don’t believe me, bring a keepsake of Teha’s before the dune, it will react.”

Duma stood huffing for a few breaths more, then stomped back to the village with Sestra in tow.

To be continued...

#the remainder #short story #short fiction #story and tea with ilar #Tale of the fog children

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years

Text

Stealing Past the Windows | Platonic Leone Abbacchio x Reader

You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

Content Warnings: Prostitution & Dubious Consent

You wish you were a mortician so that maybe – just maybe – you could be used to death. You long for the ability to shut away your grief, to turn it off as if it is nothing more than a lightbulb that hangs above your head – to flip the switch.

Your mother leads you towards the parking lot behind the cathedral. You have only just fastened the seatbelt over your lap when you notice him: the mortician standing next to a dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His necktie is loose and his hair a disarray. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a cloud of smoke. Perhaps morticians were not as used to death as you thought.

Something taps against the windshield. Pattering, uneven beats, not unlike the pianist’s scant repertoire from the procession. You wish that your mother would have hired someone better, someone who was not the sostituo commissario coordinatore’s daughter.

“It’s raining,” your mother remarks, her voice no louder than a whisper. Rain – of course it rains today of all days. She sighs and grips the steering wheel. If her hands were not covered by her black gloves, you might see that her knuckles are white. “They never said it would rain. How are we supposed to bury him in this?”

You realize that, perhaps instead of death, you long to become better acquainted with unpredictability: the death of your father, rain during a funeral, a lousy pianist . . . And Leone Abbacchio’s sunset-colored eyes meeting your gaze from across the parking lot. You bring your hand to your mouth and bite down on your curled pointer-finger to keep from calling out to him – what are you doing here? Permanent suspension and a slanderous newspaper article were not enough to satiate the part of you that yearns for his retribution.

Your mother follows the hearse, but you do not dare to look away, even as the car turns onto the street. You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

If, even after everything, a mortician and death are no more than steely work associates, then surely a distance exists between a prostitute and sexual intimacy. You never let the men take you from the front: your fleeting decency is preserved by the sorrow that suffocates you each time you are forced to solicit yourself to pay off your mother’s debts. You tell yourself that it is better this way – better than starving on the streets or lying dead in a dumpster, a proper unmarked grave.

Adaptability has helped you to cope with unpredictability. Now, you pray for blindness. Blindness so that you no longer face the men who leer and lead you into alleyways and dingy hotel rooms; blindness to forget that home is nothing more than a moth-ridden mattress, vacant memories, and a box fan; blindness, so the sounds of mice scurrying in the rafters become your mother teetering on loose floorboards as she stands over the kitchen table and prepares dinner.

Blindness so that you might forget the callousness of solitude.

A gust of air reaches for you. You tug your skirt over your thighs, a feeble attempt to ward of the chilling temperature. The waiting comes with confliction, for in the moments when you are alone, you are glad to be untouched. And yet, trepidation reminds you that a prostitute who does not meet her nightly quota is expendable. Your mother learned that – her final anecdote to you was a bullet.

Two women stand across the street. The glow of a cigar illuminates the space between them. An emaciated feline stalks down the sidewalk; she carries a kitten in her mouth. Footsteps – a man approaches you, his hands buried in the pockets of his striped dress slacks. He leans into the wall, only inches from you. He smells of tobacco smoke – you never cared for tobacco smoke. You blame it on your father’s influence.

You name your price, and he grabs your wrist. “I just want you to suck me off,” he sneers before pulling you into the alley. The air there is heavy: already, you have forgotten how to breathe. “You only get paid if you swallow. Got it, puttana?”

You nod. The pavement bites the skin of your knees. Your palms grow clammy. A knot forms in your belly. It never gets easier. The reflective surface of his belt’s silver buckle is an unwanted mirror. Sunken eyes stare back as you fumble with the latch. You no longer recognize yourself – it is a stranger’s gaze that watches your movements. You are a woman drowning, yet desperate for a glass of water.

Fingers pry at your arms. For a moment, you are airborne as he lifts you from the ground and pins you to the wall. His breath curdles in your ear – the rasp of his tone and the overwhelming scent of charred leather confirms that he is indeed a smoker and not a victim of secondhand exposure: “I’ve changed my mind. Ti sto fottendo.”

You shiver, but not because you are cold, even though the night air assaults your bare legs, which have been freed of your tight mini-skirt; pink polyester gathers at your ankles, tethering you. His teeth graze the crook between your shoulder and neck. His body cages you. The breeze wafts through your hair, gentle tresses clinging to his skin. In another life, he might have been a lover. But a lover does not pay you for sex.

Your fear turns to ash and dies on your tongue. Every gasp for air is an inhalation of his scent – stale cigarettes. It laces through your throat and burns you alive.

You wait until you are sure that he is gone before you pull your skirt up. Your core throbs. Your legs tremble. Your backend meets the ground as your knees fail you. The money lies just beyond your reach, but you cannot bear to touch it. The mere thought of even looking at it sends a jolt of nausea through you.

It can stay there a little longer – it is not pride that compels you to leave the money be: it is dignity.

You do not notice that you are crying until you feel the familiar sting in your eyes. An anguished scream tears itself from your mouth as you slap the ground and kick into the rusted trashcan beside you. It topples over – you wish to be buried alive in food scraps and disposed condoms because it is not better this way.

A tawny colored beer bottle shatters at your feet: a mosaic of glass shards. In each broken piece laid out before you, you see your reflections – in every groove, ripple, and adhesive spotting that has been left behind by a missing label. One shard is your father’s funeral and a smoking mortician, and another shard is the eternally frozen face of your dead mother, and another shard is the first man whom you sold your virtue to.

And yet, one shard is a series of train tickets, from Napoli to the lavender fields of Aix-en-Provence, and another shard is a glass of Bordeaux Red that you share with a lover on a balcony overlooking the plaza of Place Richelme, and another shard is a newborn babe nestled in the white laces of her bassinet, the glow of the setting evening sun stealing past the window of the nursery and painting the walls with a glorious apricot light. And among them all, shards of men whose touches and faces blend together, shards of hands that wring your neck. Perversion, starvation, and seclusion. Mice in the rafters, a battered mattress, and a box fan.

What good is a pretty future if you must suffer for it first? You realize, as your fingers float over the glass shards, that you have been on this journey to Aix-en-Provence – to somewhere better than Napoli – your entire life: that you are sitting on a train, still, though once you thought it moving. You are forever rooted in place.

Your scuffed stiletto grinds the glass into the concrete. Happiness demands too much from you. You stomp each shard until they split and become a million more pieces – so small that they no longer speak to you.

The final shard is a pair of sunset-colored eyes and silver hair. You freeze, your foot suspended above the piece of glass. You meet his gaze from across the alley. You want to bite your finger – it is a nervous habit that you had promised to quit after the funeral, after your mother had found you bandaging your bleeding hand with toilet paper in the bathroom at the burial site; she had never forgiven you for staining your dress.

You cannot look away from him, even as he drops the paper brown grocery bag snagged around his wrist in favor of ushering you into his arms and onto your feet – your head on his chest, held in place by a single hand that coaxes through your hair. You do not bother to push him away, because it feels good to be held; though every fiber of your being tells you to loathe this man, you find that you cannot. Hatred costs too much energy, causes too much stress; you do not need either. When he pulls away to inspect your face, you do the same to him. His mouth moves, but you do not hear the words that fall from his lilac-painted lips. The dark rings beneath his eyes are rival to yours. You wonder how much sleep he has lost, for every night spent thinking of you.

Steam from the coffee mug wafts into the air in a delicate spiral. At this hour, the café is nearly empty. A man with lavender-blonde hair types into his laptop computer; he lifts his beverage to his lips without tearing his gaze from the screen. Aside from him and an older woman, who is clipping coupons from a newspaper, you and Leone Abbacchio are the only other customers. It is a sharp contrast to the usual bustle during the day; without the business men fighting for their morning espresso shots or the mothers stopping for a pastry after sending their children off to school for the day, it feels like a graveyard.

The soft hum of the kitchen radio echoes through to the dining room. The coupon-clipping woman taps her foot to an offbeat cadence. You tug Leone’s jacket by the lapels, securing it tautly to your skin. He had insisted that you wear it, because of the cold. Truthfully, you know that it is for modesty’s sake. Regardless of the reason, you are grateful. He clasps his own porcelain mug but does not drink. Perhaps it is still too hot, you wonder.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not,” you finally say. Macchiato pools on your tongue. It has been far too long since you have had coffee that was not made from instant crystals; you savor it. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if not for you, after all. But, the caffè is a nice gesture.”

His teeth graze his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he says with hesitation. “I’m sorry for what happened. For what I did.”

“You’re wasting your time, saying you’re sorry, because there aren’t enough apologizes that could even begin to make things right. An apology won’t bring my father back. An apology won’t bring my mother back.”

He shudders and sighs. “I know . . . I know that.”

An uncomfortable silence hovers over your heads. At last, Leone drinks his coffee; it is a much-needed distraction from the conversation that has haunted him until this moment. His greatest fear has been to face the family of the man he had indirectly killed. It was a mistake to have gone to the funeral – he knows that; he was never sure what to expect that day. The sight of your mother following the hearse in her station wagon while you stared him down, until finally you disappeared, had shaken him – he fell to the bottle that very night.

Leone’s cellphone vibrates atop the table. The green screen casts a reflection upon the window beside you. Flashing digital numbers tell you that is is 23:13 – you only have forty-seven minutes to give the money to your procurer. You instinctively pat your pocket. The money is not there. Upon the realization that you have forgotten it back in the alley, where it is no doubt buried under the fallen trash of your breakdown, you down the rest of your drink. “Thank you for the coffee,” you say to Leone. “I should get going – I need to get back to work.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not going back there,” he says to you, a strange inflection in his tone – worry or anger, you cannot tell the difference.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” His bark is beguiling, and it commands you to stay seated. For every moment that he stalls, the knot in your belly constricts tighter and tighter, until it feels as though your intestines might burst. When he speaks, a gust of air rushes through you: “Let me . . . Let me try to make things right. Let me start by getting you out of there.”

You tense at his words. “You speak as if you think it’s easy to get ‘out of there,’” you sneer. “As if you think you could actually help me.”

“I’ll pay off your mother’s debt,” he insists with a sudden burst of confidence.

It is your turn to stiffen. “How do you know about that?” It is then that you take in his appearance in earnest – his clothing looks expensive, even though he is clad in only a sweater and jeans. You doubt that his makeup came from a drug store. If exorbitance had a scent, it would be that of his cologne: woodsy and sweet. He could never have afforded these things on a poliziotto’s salary. “You work with them, don’t you?”

“No.” The waitress leans over the table to top off Leone’s mug. He offers her a nod and she pledges a smile. She scurries back to the counter in a flurry of floral-pattern skirts. The way he avoids answering your first question tells you enough: you understand that it is far too complicated to be uttered aloud in a public space. “I just know the right people.”

“I don’t want your help,” you tell him, albeit too quickly. Dignity compelled you from taking the money in the alleyway. But it is not dignity that holds you from accepting money from a former dirty cop: it is ego laced in hubris. And it is his bribery, shrouded in penitence, that beckons for your clemency. “I don’t need your help.”

“Stop this.” His words scorn you. “Don’t let yourself get killed because of your pride. I know what happens to women like you. You’re not a human being to them: you’re nothing more than a money-maker. Damn it, I’ve seen girls younger than you that – “ he cuts himself off. “Getting killed over the grudge you hold against me – it’s not worth it.”

“I can’t accept help from the man who ruined my life. It means you’ll expect me to forgive you.”

“I’m not looking for forgiveness. I just want to prove to you that I am sorry.” When you bring your pointer-finger to your mouth and bite down on your knuckle, he can see you in the station wagon again. Although, instead of a mourner’s garb, you wear a scanty skirt and a cropped blouse. “What about your father?”

You pull your finger away; a thread of saliva connects from your skin to your quivering lip. “Don’t you dare mention him,” you hiss. “Don’t act like you knew him: he was nothing more than a coworker to you.”

“It’s not for forgiveness. Let me help you because he would never want to see you like this.” You can practically hear the twitching of his jaw. A tear falls, and then another. And another. He wipes the back of his hand over his dampened cheeks. “He loved you – so much. More than I think he ever loved your mother, if you’d heard the way he spoke about you . . . One of the last things he ever said to me was how he couldn’t wait to see the type of person you’d become. Un dottore o un insegnante: it didn’t matter to him, so long as you were happy.” He looks away, as if he is ashamed to face you, though rightfully so. “I did know him. I knew the man who would have given anything for his famiglia – for you.”

Your heart aches – for your father or Leone or even yourself, you are not sure. While it pains you to admit it, the man sitting before you has uttered the truth. Your father would want you to accept Leone’s help. It might be your only chance for a fresh start – to usher the still train along. Suddenly, the lavender fields feel so close that all you need do is reach out to feel the purple tendrils within your grasp. Paradise is not too far.

You sigh, shakily, before you give him your answer: “Okay.”

You thought your response would satiate him – instead, the tears he sheds fall faster. He brings a hand to his forehead to pinch his temples between his thumb and ring-finger, to shield his face: a man torn apart by his own chagrin. His other hand is outstretched before him, fingers formed into a taut fist. You are sure that his nails will puncture his skin if he squeezes any tighter. The music from the kitchen stops. The woman places down her scissors and her newspaper. The man with lavender-blonde hair closes his laptop. The ticking of the wall-clock is the only sound that reverberates through the café. It is only minutes until the new day.

Leone Abbacchio is man frozen in his past. Despite the turmoil, despite the grief and accrued traumas, you do not hate him: though unable to move on, he is driven by audacity. You once thought him cowardly, but a craven would never have reached out to you: a craven would rob you of your second chance at life. You respect the weeping man seated across the table, so much so that you clasp your own hand over his fist as a gesture of solidarity. His breath catches in his throat as his quaking body stills. You have nothing to say to him – but no words could convey the thoughts that weave through your mind. His wrist rotates beneath your touch. Palm to palm, his fingers reach for yours and entwine.

Forgiveness is a virtue you cannot afford. You will not forgive him – not now – but you will heal: together.

| 3170 Words |

#leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader

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write-place-write-time · 4 years

Text

Sharing It

[ Can be read as a sequel to “Keeping It” or as a standalone ]

“Mmm…. no.”

“You’re maddening.”

“No argument there.”

“That is also maddening.”

Molly sighed and put down her tablet, the medical journal she’d been trying to read for the last ten minutes a lost cause. “You’re both maddening.”

Her husband smirked behind his cup of tea, an eyebrow cocked over his reading glasses. “It is hereditary, you know.”

“Yeah, Mum. Uncle Mycroft is maddening, and I know Dad thinks Gamma and Papa are--”

Sherlock shot his gaze to their daughter in a mock-glare. “Shush. Gamma can likely hear you, even fifty miles away.”

“Which is what you find maddening,” was her sly response.

Molly reached for a piece of toast, a small grin on her face. Sherlock nudged her calf with his bare foot under the breakfast table.

“Dr. Hooper-Holmes, I’ll have you know you are maddening too. I’ll also remind you that you contributed the other half of the maddening genes we see in the creature at our table.”

“Creature?!” Another bare foot swept and nudged Sherlock’s calf, though harder than he’d nudged Molly’s.

Laughter ensued, as it usually did when Sherlock teased the girl.

“Darling, what prompted the maddening argument?” Molly asked her, nibbling her toast.

“I asked Dad if I could help with the Livingston case. DI Dimmock called this morning and will be here by noon.”

“And,” Sherlock interrupted, “I politely - yet firmly - said no.”

“Why?” both of his girls asked in unison.

Sherlock inwardly groaned. Twin pairs of heart-shaped faces and messy chestnut buns swung to look at him expectantly. The brown eyes were curious, but the eyes that mirrored his own in color and shape were full of challenge. A swell of pride and love rose in his chest but he beat it down so as not to look soft -- those challenging eyes were keener than his own and would see it and manipulate it with ease.

“Because it’s not appropriate--” he began.

“Fibber,” Molly smiled. “You don’t give a fig about being appropriate.”

Sherlock scowled, though without heat because she was right, of course. “Fine. Because she’s too young--”

“You were only nineteen when Uncle Greg first let you onto an NSY case!”

She was also right.

“Sherlock.”

He looked at Molly, her laugh lines a little more prominent, her own reading glasses perched atop her head. Motherhood and wifehood had not diminished her charm or her ability to see him. “Yes?”

She just smiled at him until he gave in and smiled too.

“Alright, is this going to be like when I came home early from the Watsons’ and learned what coitus interruptus meant?”

They both kicked their daughter under the table, who laughed and threw pieces of bacon at them.

“Artemis Charlotte Zephyrine Hooper-Holmes!” Molly chided the young woman. “You’re worse than your father!”

“Well you were getting all sentimental, something had to be done!” Artie (as she preferred because her full name was only for when she was truly in trouble with her parents) chuckled, crinkling her nose up at her mother. “We were in the middle of interrogating Dad about his lame reason why I can’t help with the Livingston case…”

Sherlock chewed the bacon she’d thrown at him, nodding to Molly. She could say what he felt.

“He doesn’t want to share you,” his wife said simply.

“Share me?” Artie stared at her father. “Whattaya mean?”

It was Molly’s turn to nod at him. He swallowed tightly and let himself feel. It was important, after all. “If you solve the Livingston case with me, it’ll be open range for the NSY to come to us both, then ultimately just you, for more cases.”

His daughter cocked her head to the side, a tic she’d developed early on when deducing something. Or someone.

“You’re not worried I’ll overshadow you or take over the ‘family business’, though, Dad,” she said softly and certainly. “Then why--”

“It is a wild, heart-pounding, dangerous, and exhilarating life, being a consulting detective,” he said. Molly’s warm eyes met his. “I have only ever experienced the precisely same rush in the line of work that is husband and father. And I want nothing more than for you to feel it too.”

He looked Artie right in the eye and let himself be open to her. “I don’t want to share my girl and her talents for deduction and compassion just yet. It would mean that you’re ready to not need me. Or your mother,” he added quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of his signature stoicism.

Artie’s eyes narrowed, and she was silent for a moment. As the moment stretched Sherlock was reminded that she was most definitely his child. John had said that his own silences were unnerving. But, right before the moment became awkward, Artie’s face broke into a smile.

“Dad, you’re an idiot.”

Molly cleared her throat with admonishment, but both husband and daughter waved her off with identical dismissive hands.

“Mum, you know what I mean,” Artie smiled, keeping her eyes on her father. “Dad, I don’t want to do this because I don’t need you and Mum. I do and always will. I want to work this case because I think I want to be a writer.”

Molly and Sherlock looked to each other, then to their girl. “A writer?”

Artie sat up a little straighter, pulling the sleeves of her father’s old blue dressing gown down over her hands. Sherlock inwardly grinned. Bravado and nerves in both movements; this was a big moment for his daughter.

“I figured out what I want to major in at Oxford -- creative writing. I know, I know, it’s not exactly lucrative but I could take some cases myself as you said and that could pay a bit. Besides, Uncle John’s blog inspired me, and a-actually I’m rewriting some entries for a publication. Rosie’s doing the illustrations and I found that I loved it but I’m not getting the voice of the stories right because I’ve never seen you and Uncle John on a case. Well, not a murder case -- and we all know those are the juiciest tales!”

She was babbling, outdoing her mother as she motor-mouthed her explanation. She seemed to realize this and slowed to catch her breath. Molly and Sherlock were still locked in on her, their faces a combination of shock and intrigue.

Artie took a breath and smiled at them. “I want to write and publish these stories, Dad. Your stories, with Uncles John and Greg, Mum, Nana Hudders. I want to share you with more than London and the surrounding countryside.”

Sherlock’s throat felt tight, and a strange prickling began behind his eyes. He chanced a glance at Molly, whose eyes were swimming in pride and un-shed tears.

“Oh,” he murmured, blinking rapidly. “Well, um…”

Artie’s hand slipped into his on the table. “Dad?”

Sherlock grasped her fingers in his, her touch grounding. He looked at Molly again, his foot finding her sock-clad one under the small table, and closed his eyes. In his mind palace (which had more windows than walls now, letting sunlight filter in and illuminate the ceilings and doors of the massive building), he found Artie’s room next door to Molly’s. Pushing the door open he saw her, all of eight years old with his deerstalker on her head and her faithful, never-far-from-reach diary open, a silly feathery pen at the ready.

He smiled as he opened his eyes and arched a supercilious brow at his currently eighteen year old daughter. “Best get your arse dressed and prepared for battle, Miss Hooper-Holmes. The game--”

“-- is ON! Hell yeah, Dad!” Artie tugged him forward and planted a loud smacking kiss on his forehead before bolting out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom, dressing gown flapping dramatically.

Molly immediately cracked up laughing, standing to clear the table. “She is so your child, Sherlock.”

He grasped her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “Again, I remind you that she is half you too, wife.” He kissed her languidly, her hands reaching into his curls (which may or may not have had strands of silver through them). They broke apart only when they heard the thump of their daughter losing her balance, no doubt trying to put on her boots without unlacing them (again).

“You better get yourself dressed too,” Molly said, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Artie’s been dead-set on joining you for a murder for ages.”

Sherlock scrunched his nose at her. “Dead-set? Molly, your jokes…”

They shared another soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the thundering footsteps and the subsequent “Ohhh come on, you two!”

#sherlolly #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #parent!lock #original hooper-holmes child

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k-writer1998 · 3 years

Text

Who Said Love Was Easy (3/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer lectures, design deadlines and no focus because of that brat. It’s been three years, they shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore… Even if I tell myself that, that woman has such a strong oppressive energy. I always feel like I’m suffocating. Ugh just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Needing a change of pace I decided to walk to the pub to wait for Changbin. The bustle of the city was a comforting white noise to drown out my thoughts since I really needed to just… not think for a bit. That is, until I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. With this new sense of anxiety I finally noticed the black car, not so subtly, following me. Luckily the street the pub was on was too narrow for cars and it was entering my line of sight. I checked my phone reflection as a man got out and of course it would be him. Picking up my pace to get away did nothing as he still caught me and forced me to turn around, keeping a hold on my wrist.

“Why are you running away from me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because some random car was following me, a girl who is alone, for over five minutes?” I reply sarcastically.

“I’ve been calling you but you weren’t answering.”

“Call? I probably blocked your number. Look, I’m not interested in pretending to rekindle some broken bond.”

“Y/n… don’t be like this you know I-”

“Don’t pull the remorseful brother act, Youngho-oppa. If you really cared you would have looked for me after I left,” I spat.

Unlike his sister Younghee who openly showed her indifference, not hearing from him was worse than being thrown out. Youngho was the only one in the entire family that showed me a smidge of kindness, let alone acknowledging my presence when no one else did. It wasn’t until a year after being kicked out did I learn I was nothing more than a stray puppy he played with cause he was bored.

“Don’t be like this y/n. Mom hasn’t been in the right state of mind since dad died. She didn’t mean to hurt you and she’s trying to make it up to you,” he coaxed, pulling me in to stop the wandering ears from hearing.

“That’s a load of shit and you know it. That woman never liked me the minute I was brought in and she made sure everyone but dad knew that. Will she give back the shares to dad’s company that are rightfully mine?”

His eyebrow twitched and I caught the crack in his facade. Every single one of them are selfish creatures and they will never betray their true nature, a fact I learned the hard way and will not underestimate again.

“Y/n things are sensitive now as is, you can’t just ask for something like that. Why would you want something like those? Aren’t you studying design?”

“Wow, someone did their research. If design doesn’t work I should at least have the shares to give me some support. It was a decent portion wasn’t it?” I pushed.

“Stop acting like a child there are bigger things going on so just cooperate. The faster you do the less we have to see each other. Do you think I have time to chase you around like this?”

And his true color shows. By now his hold on my arm had turned into a vice grip and it hurt like hell but I couldn’t show weakness now, they don’t get to win after everything.

“Ha… I can’t believe I waited six months to hear from you like you actually cared. Sometimes you really are worse than your mother.”

My head snapped to the side in an instant and it was numb for a moment before the stinging settled in. I knew something of this caliber would happen… for his own reasons he hated his mother. Who knew it would tick him off that much? Before either of us could come back from the shock, a hand broke the hold on my wrist and my line of sight was covered by someone’s back. The mystery person shielded me from my brother and I immediately recognized the ring on their pinky. Should I be glad or panicked that Jeongin’s here?

“Sorry I’m late, is this person bothering you?”

“Oh? Is this your boyfriend?” Youngho smirked, eyeing him up and down.

“No.” I roll my eyes, trying my best to mask my unease. Jeongin doesn’t need to be dragged into my family drama. I tug at his hand lightly and he turned to look back at me, “Come on, we’re late meeting the others. This conversation is over anyways.”

Once in front of the pub, Jeongin turned to examine my face. Seeing such concern in his eyes I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion that came over me as tears started to fall.

“Are you okay?! You must’ve been scared…” he panicked and I shook my head.

“Thank you,” I sniffed.

“You still got hit… I can’t believe-”

“It’s whatever.” This was not the first time someone from that family raised their hand to me, I expected nothing less… and I did purposefully push his buttons. “I deserved it. I provoked him.”

In an instant my gaze that was trained on the ground was forced to meet his piercing eyes by the gentle force of his hand nudging my chin. He had leaned in so that we were eye level and my brain nearly short circuited at his close proximity. Well that’s one way to stop tears.

“It doesn’t matter if you provoked him, that shouldn’t have happened y/n. No one deserves that, do you understand?”

It surprised me how serious he was about this. I don’t know if it was the butterflies from how close he was or the unsettling feeling of being… perceived, but I couldn’t think. Instead I numbly nodded, my eyes never leaving his as if under a spell. The corner of his lips quirked up at my response before he ushered me into the pub and sat me in my usual seat. He tossed a bag to Chan, that I hadn’t noticed he had, before disappearing to the back. Jeongin re-emerged with some ice and placed it on my face causing me to wince a bit. Taking it from his hands, he reached for my arm but I instinctively pulled away.

“Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine. Probably slightly bruised at most but nothing serious.”

He eyed me suspiciously but before he could say anything Jaehyung barged over, worry written all over his face.

“Y/n! What happened?!”

“It’s nothing,” I smiled. He immediately whirled on Jeongin and gave him a pointed look.

“I caught some guy bothering her when I was out buying Chan-hyung some Advil and he… slapped her,” he responded guiltily.

I don’t know if I should admire or be annoyed by his honesty. I tiredly rubbed my forehead, already feeling the anger rolling off of Jaehyung.

“Don’t feel guilty Jeongin,” I smiled before turning to Jaehyung. “Thanks for getting mad for me but it’s not worth it Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Was it your fam-”

“Yes,” I cut him off, but that was more than enough for Jeongin to put the pieces together. Not wanting to hear anything from either of them I add, “I’m fine, really. Plus Changbin is coming so don’t worry okay?”

“Not worry? You usually end up home drunk and always make bad decisions with him.”

“Ninety-six percent of the time it’s me, bad decisions help relieve stress you know,” I smile like a child trying not to get in trouble.

Jaehyung ruffled my hair with a resigned sigh before telling me not to come home too drunk and went off. Jeongin kept me company but I had to ignore his eyes that were filled with questions I didn’t want to answer. Luckily Changbin came soon after but his eyes zeroed in on my cheek and was ready to square up with Jeongin before I intervened.

"Nope. I'll explain later, let's go." I gave him no time to argue as I waved Jeongin goodbye and sped to the door.

Knowing that I’ve come from a deprived childhood, Changbin’s lenient with me and my impulses. That being said, tonight is a total bust. Instead of somewhere fun, we’re at some restaurant because as Changbin puts it, he needs to “gage my recklessness” since I “act up more” when my family is involved.

“I ordered some food… and alcohol since I promised to take you out to have fun but before that, what the hell happened? Who hit you? Wh-”

“Are you going to keep going or do you actually want me to answer the questions?”

“Obviously answer them you smart ass. ”

“Long story short it was Youngho and the guy from the pub basically saved me more or less.”

His eyes softened at the mention of my brother. The first six months I was kicked out I stayed with Changbin until Hyorin, my mom's best friend who had been acting like an actual guardian for me since my dad died, helped me find an affordable place. He’s the one who saw the emotional toll it took when the one person I believed to be on my side threw me away.

“I would’ve thought he would be too busy with company stuff to come out, especially since he is under a microscope right now with the chairman’s health issues and all.”

“That’s why wicked stepmother and her children are on my tail. They’re trying to exploit our relationship, tied by nothing more than my father’s blood, to try to win grandma over cause she is fond of me and has a big share.” I ran an annoyed hand through my hair before whining, “so can we go clubbing?”

“Yeah… no. I’ll be having to pry off some guy from trying to take you home because you’re wasted.”

“No. That only happened like… four? times…”

“Four times too many. But drink your fill here and let Mr. Neighbor know that you’re staying at mine. If I bring you home drop dead drunk again I think he would actually kill me.”

“You’re probably right,” I laugh before shooting a quick text to Jaehyung. Once I put my phone down, the waitress came in with our order and I pointed at Changbin, “no talking about the unholy trinity or I’m leaving to go be unsupervised.”

“Yes, yes. I spoil you too much,” he sighs before adding, “how is the chairman anyways?”

“Grandpa still wants to believe I don’t exist and last I heard from grandma was that his heart isn’t in good health. It’s hard to treat when they’re trying to hide it from the company. Everyone knows he’s sick but not how bad,” I respond flatly.

“... Okay one question and I’ll stop. Who are the other runner ups other than… you know who?”

I downed my second shot in annoyance. Changbin and Jaehyung could be good friends if they let it happen, they’re both so nosy… I could care less about company drama though so I tell him. Not like I’ll get in trouble.

“I- Are you asking me to leave?”

“Oh come on, if they’re this desperate that means there are other strong candidates right?”

“Fine.” I glare, shoving some food in my mouth before answering, “They’re looking into my cousin Wooin and a long-term director Jihyo. They have high performance with successful big projects under their belt in addition to having the favor of various important people.”

“Okay, so what’s this about finding Loverboy? It’s been what? A year with no contact?”

“Of course I do. That was the first time I formed a fat crush on a guy I just met,” I roll my eyes. “It’s the guy you wanted to beat up, Jeongin. It’s been a few months but he’s been working at Jaehyung’s pub.”

I don’t know if it was the alcohol doing its job but I started to get sentimental as I thought back to our first meeting. That night was during a relatively low point in my life and I was losing touch with the world around me, but he was the first thing I found interest in after a long time. As if my brain wanted to torture me, the image of his face mere inches from mine popped back into my mind.

“Did something already happen?! Your face is red!”

“Shut up. He still has a girl he likes so no.”

“Still?” Changbin whistles in surprise, “That’s what I call devotion. Does he remember you?”

“Nope. To make matters… interesting, she works there too and has a crush on Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Wait that cute new waitress? On that old man? And I thought you had problems,” he laughs.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

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aylinaliens · 3 years

Text

One invisible gold thread (tied me to you) — Chapter 1

Fandom: 2Gether

Pairings: Earn/Pear, Pear/Air, Sarawat/Tine, Ohm/Fong

Summary: Soulmate did not always equate to romance, most spend their lives together as platonically. That is exactly what Earn thought would happen with Pear—but as they spent more time together in person, Earn struggles to calm the raging storm of emotions in her heart. Soon enough, Earn finds herself drawn in like a moth to a flame, Pear’s soft bubblegum pink cardigan and bright eyes serving as balm to her soul. At first, Earn just denies what she feels inside, claiming that the only reason her throat closed up when she was in the proximity of the soft-spoken medical student was because of indigestion. As Earn spends more time with her soulmate, she begins to struggle with understanding the intricacies of her own sexuality, but realization never actually dawns on her until she finds out someone was actively pursuing Pear. That was when Earn starts to come to turns with her feelings...but it was too late now. Right?

Word Count: 1779

Notes: in honor of 2gether the movie being announced i have decided to finally post this because let’s be honest...gmmtv is going to clown on us earnpear shippers again. i typically hate love triangles but dear uranus has made me realize that wlw!love triangles are God Tier so thus this fic was born. hope you like tropes because !! this fic will have it all. soulmates? roommates? fake dating? mutual pining? friends to lovers? unrequited love? bed sharing? friends with benefits? it’s what these sapphics deserve

Read the first chapter on Ao3 or down below!

Curiously, Earn lifted her arm and brought it closer to her face so she could examine it. Sarawat obviously understood what was happening, also recently finding his soulmate, so he just leaned back in his seat, sipping on his drink, and quietly observing the own messages on his forearm.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gaped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

A familiar fluttering sensation cursed through Earn’s body, signaling another message has appeared. She was mid conversation with Sarawat in the process of telling him what time their gig for tomorrow was but never got to.

Full of excitement and butterflies Earn quickly yanked her sleeve up—it’s been thirty six hours since her soulmate last sent a message. It was normal for Pear to disappear for days on end so Earn was used to the delayed reply.

As she glanced down at her forearm she expected to see a reply to the conversation she asked a few days ago but instead it was a drawing.

Once again no big deal—Pear was artistic. She had always sent doodles to Earn.

However, this drawing was not simply just of animals or flowers. She couldn’t exactly tell what it was right now because Pear was still drawing it.

After nearly seven minutes of waiting Pear was done and it was...definitely not doodle of a cat. No, it was something else.

“Oh god. Did she draw a penis?”

Sarawat choked on his drink in surprise. “What?” He gasped. “What did you just say?”

“I said my soulmate just drew an anatomically correct penis on my arm.”

Sarawat looked shocked and positively scandalized but he was not the only one. Earn was just as confused. She held her arm up for him to see and after a few seconds of studying it he came to the same conclusion.

“She drew an anatomically correct penis on your arm. With labels. Why did she send you an anatomically correct penis on your arm?”

Earn lifted her shoulder up in a shrug, leaning down to rummage through her bag to find a pen. Once she did she yanked the cap off and scribbled a quick message.

um...is there like context or a reason that you drew that?

She waited awhile for a reply, staring intently down at her arm for any new piece of ink. It did not matter how long she waited it never came. At least a reply to that question never came. As she studied her arm for what seem like forever the conversation with Sarawat died away.

He knew she was far too preoccupied with with waiting for a message to appear. He was probably the only one in the band who could truly understand what Earn was feeling since he was the only one who had recently discovered his soulmate mark.

Tine was terrible, if not more so, at replying in a timely matter. Sometimes Tine would wait hours just to answer back with a single letter, either forgetting to reply or simply not noticing it.

So Earn waited. Minute after minute. Nothing. Just as she was about to give up that familiar fluttering sensation came back, making her heart soar.

But it was not a reply to Earn’s question. No. It wasn’t even a word.

It was just a smaller anatomically correct penis that was colored in instead of labeling.

Earn pursed her lips in bewilderment but decided that she obviously would not get a reply any time soon.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, shrugging once more. “I really don’t know.”

The first Earn noticed her soulmate mark she was seventeen. She had gym during school today so in between classes she hoped in the shower for a quick rinse off. She didn’t notice any ink nor did she feel abnormal as she scrubbed the dirt and sweat away.

It was afterwards, when she was towel drying her body and trying to slip back on her uniform that she saw pink ink near her wrist.

Confusion coursed through her as she brought her arm toward the light for a better look. She didn’t remember writing anything on her arms.

At first Earn didn’t quite understood what it said due to how faint it was but the longer she stared the more she could understand it.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse cell.

She was shocked, that was sure, but she didn’t have time to think too critically about it because the bell signifying her next class was about to begin snapped her out of it.

Earn forgot about that day in the shower for a few weeks. She knew that soulmates and soul marks were real but it never registered to Earn that was what it was. She didn’t have a soulmate. No way did she have a soulmate. Earn just...forgot that she wrote that. Yeah. That is exactly what happened.

It wasn’t until she was laying in bed one day, laptop perched on her lap as she hummed along to her favorite band, that the memory of that day came flooding back.

A stinging sensation started at the base of her spine and slowly traveled up until her fingertips were tingling and her her throat was constricting. Soon enough the sensation had made its way all over he body, from her fingertips to her toes Earn felt it.

It didn’t hurt, quite the opposite, but it was enough to pause what she was doing.

Then the stinging feeling evaporated into thin air. It was like it never happened. Instead it was replaced by something akin to butterflies but vastly more intense.

A half done math equation appeared near her elbow. A math equation Earn never even learned.

A few beats of silence passed before more ink appeared. It was of a cartoon bunny holding up a sign that that had a phrase on it: Susu Pear!

Earn could no longer pretend like she forgot about writing on her arm. No. This was a soulmate mark.

She practically threw off her laptop off and hastily scrambled out of bed to her desk to grab a pen. Once she found one she tore off the cap and scribbled out a word, feeling as if her heart would leap out of her chest.

hello?

Earn waited for a reply what seemed like years but in reality it was only half a minute.

...hello?

Oh god. Oh my god. She had a soulmate.

None of her friends of family got their soulmate marks yet so she was utterly confused on what to do next. She could search the web for answers but she was scared that her soulmate would disappear.

cute bunny drawing. is your name pear?

The reply was almost instantaneously, showing up before Earn even finished her own message.

thank you! yes, my name is pear. what’s your name?

Before Earn could reply again Pear wrote something else back, just below her previous message.

you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! i know that some people ignore their soulmate marks.

Butterflies erupted in Earn’s stomach once again but this time it was not because of the ink. Soulmate. Pear just confirmed it. There was no backing out of it now.

my name is earn and...i don’t want to ignore this. unless...you want to?

no! i don’t want to ignore this. i want to um, get to know you. can we do that?

of course. what do you want to know?

everything.

That’s exactly what Earn did, she told Pear everything. Not that night but over the next few years they essentially bared their souls to each other in every sense of the word. Sometimes they would write whole entire essays to each other, forced to erase the earlier conversations or come up with new creative places to write. Sometimes they would send doodles back in forth.

After a few months of talking when the two settled into a comfortable routine, somehow becoming each others biggest supporters. Before every exam, Pear would send Earn the same little cartoon bunny cartoon drawing. Every time the message on the poster was different.

susu earn!

you can do it.

good luck!

earn! you got this!

i'm always rooting for you!

you got this, babe!

Sometimes the messages were so cheesy that Earn felt color flood her cheeks and often never replied because she didn’t know what to say. She would feign innocence when this happened, claiming she was just so nervous about her exam that she forgot to reply.

It was ridiculous—she was so tongue tied and bashful over the same messages you would find on motivational stickers. If anyone else drew these things Earn would think it was dumb but because it was from Pear she thought it utterly adorable.

Earn in return took up to expanding Pear’s musical knowledge and interests. She would use her arms to write down random bits of lyrics she thought of instead of on paper. Pear always took care to never erase those lyrics until Earn gave her the green light.

However, most of the time they just talked. About anything. About nothing. After a few years went by of this Earn grew fond of the soulmate she knew virtually everything yet nothing about.

Unlike most people who got soulmate marks she dated. It was nothing serious, it never was, but she got to experience many different firsts.

Pear, on the other hand, apparently never dated—before or after the soulmate mark appeared—swearing she was far too busy with trying to get into college and than medical school to date. Besides, she wrote one day, I have you. That’s enough.

Messages like that always left Earn melting into a puddle of goo. The thing with soulmates is that they didn’t exactly have to be romantic. Hundreds of thousands of soulmates got their mark but decided to just stay platonic. That’s exactly what Earn thought would happen to them.

It’s not as if she never thought about them in a romantic sense, Earn did more than she cared to admit, but she would always quickly shake out of when she realized that it would never between them too like that.

It has been almost four years and neither of them has asked to meet yet. Surely if they wanted to meet each other they could of. At the start they found out that they only lived three hours apart. After they began college, Earn and Pear found out that they were even closer to each other.

Yet they always managed to skirt around that topic. It would happen one day or it never will Earn wrote one day either way let's just stay like this while we wait for that day to come.

#2gether the series #earnpear #earnpear fic #2gether fic #gmmtv can pry earnpear from my cold dead hands!#love that the fandom collectively manifested earnpear into canon. what do you mean they weren't gfs?? they were #my fics*

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forevercaroline · 4 years

Text

The nine lives of Caroline Forbes chapter 1

For @austennerdita2533, @caritobear, @misssophiachase, @babeyouareenough, @joceysstuff

Xxx

“Come on Rebekah hurry up.”

“You try running in heels.”

Klaus and his younger sister Rebekah and younger brother Kol are running into the tall and open coit tower but these three are not here to see the panoramic views of the city and bay. They followed the man dressed in black and has scars on his face who is sent to kill their kind but at the moment he is after Caroline Forbes who doesn’t know who she is or how to protect herself.

“No please.” The man with scars has cornered Caroline to the edge of the tower she looks down at the ground the people look like ants they are so high up.

The trio hear her cries and Rebekah reaches down and takes her heels off and catches up to her brothers. They are to late they get to the top of the tower as Caroline is pushed off. The man with the scars watches as Caroline’s body hits the pavement.

Klaus reaches out and takes his siblings hands and they turn around quickly and quietly.

The bald guy with scars turns around and watches as the two blondes and brunette siblings are running down the stairs he gets an evil grin on his lips and he chases them down the stairs.

As they get down to the ground. Klaus being older pulls his siblings behind him Rebekah is putting her heels back on behind him and Kol is in front of his sister. Klaus address the man that just killed Caroline. “You would really kill us here out in the open. Knowing who and what we are?”

As the older man with scars saunters towards them drawing a knife pointing it at them. “One way or another you will die if not from my hands it will be from someone’s. The order has declared it.”

Xxx

That morning:

Blonde perky Caroline Forbes wakes up excited for the day to begin today is her sixteenth birthday. All she wants is a convertible bug doesn’t matter what color anything except green or orange.

Her bedroom is as bright and perky as she is and everyone has a dark side too all of that is reflected in her room. With tea dye walls the back wall behind her bed is a black piece of wood with white mandalas over it. As she is getting out of bed with a baby blue padded headboard with her pink striped comfortable and pink and black pillows. She puts on some music and dances as she picks out of her clothes for the day. The sun is shining through the windows of her little nook she has a window seat of red cushions, she has a chair, a footstool and a beanbag in the nook seating area. With her desk one one side and her mirror on the other.

While in her en-suite bathroom taking a shower her mind wonders to the color of car she wants a convertible bug maybe red, or pink, yellow could be cool but maybe blinding they do live in San Francisco, baby blue or regular blue could be pretty.

When she finishes her shower she puts on a pair of denim capris, pink spaghetti strapped tiered cami and a navy textured jacket if she gets cold she also has on black wedges and a silver heart necklace.

She goes down to the kitchen which her mom gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning sweetie.” She hands her a bag which when she unwraps it, its a bag of Reese’s, a new black sweater and two new necklaces one is a gold tear drop with gold balls along the inside surrounding a crescent moon and the other is a tube necklace with three lines hanging down but connected to the other side of the necklace.

Caroline hugs her mom. “Thank you I love them.”

“Your welcome there is one more gift but you can’t see it until tonight.”

She nods and as she is picking up a banana. “Did dad send anything?”

“I’m sorry honey he didn’t we don’t even know where he is its likely he forgot.”

After swallowing some of the banana she looks up at her mom and puts on a fake smile. “It’s ok, I know that he left years ago but I just thought that he would send me at least a card on my birthday its not everyday your adoptive daughter turns sixteen.”

Liz pulls her daughter into another hug, even though she is not the biological parent of Caroline she loves Caroline no different.

Xxx

Before school starts Caroline and her two best friends brunettes Davina Claire and her cousin Enzo Claire are talking by one of the stairwells. “I keep having this strange feeling to visit coit tower I don’t know why. I’m going to try to ignore it.” Caroline rubs the side of her temple ever since, Davina and Enzo picked her up in Enzo’ black Jeep everything has been incredible loud every little noise is amplified she swears she could hear he inner workings of the Jeep it’s giving her a headache.

Enzo’s parents died when he was five and a half, and he was sent from Southampton England to San Francisco to live with his cousin so he has a British accent. “Don’t look now cuz London is coming.”

Davina peaks over her shoulder and bites her lip and just like that Kol and Klaus Mikaelson a devilish duo on a good day are coming down the hallway. Kol has a basketball he is bouncing off the walls and catching it. Klaus and Kol stop in front of the staircase and Kol hands his ball to Klaus so he can flirt with Davina, while Klaus is waiting for them to finish he throws the ball above Caroline’s head and catches it so he throws it again above Caroline’s head who is not thrilled and just waiting for the ball to hit her in the head she reaches up and grabs the ball.

Both Caroline and Klaus walk towards each other with different ideas in mind, Klaus wants the ball back and Caroline wants to give him a piece of her mind. “Listen just because your attractive and British and have dimples and look really good in a Henley.”

Enzo pinches her to stay on topic. “Right doesn’t mean you can throw a ball above my head and I’ll be totally fine with it.”

With one hand Caroline throws the basketball down the crowded hallway and it swooshes into a garbage can near the exit of the school. Students in the hallway are amazed and mummer did you see that, Klaus is speechless and looking down at Caroline but Klaus is not the only one speechless so is Caroline and that whole group.

It’s Enzo’s voice that breaks the silence. “How did you do that?”

Caroline swallows and still shocked. “I don’t know lets go.”

Her and Enzo grab Davina’s wrist and drag her off she yells back to Kol “Talk to you later.”

As Caroline is rushing down the opposite hallway she threw the ball in with Enzo and Davina right behind her Klaus and Kol share a look and watch them flee with amazement.

Xxx

Caroline comes out of science and has to go down the stairs to history when Klaus who is coming up the stairs stops her by putting his arm on the wall and backs her up until her back is against the wall. “ That was impressive earlier. You’ll have to show me your moves.”

Caroline nervous she knows his sister Rebekah better they are friends since the Mikaelsons moved here three years ago she can count on one hand the number of conversations she and Klaus have had one when Rebekah introduced Caroline to her brothers Kol and Klaus she said hi he said hello that was it. “ Moves I dont have any moves. That earlier was a freak of nature.”

“I wasn’t talking about basketball.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “Subtle.”

Klaus puts a hand on her waist. “Oh I’m not trying to be.”

Caroline has never been this close to Klaus it’s like she can hear his heart beating. She always thought he was Rebekah’s jerky older brother. “ Why are you talking me?”

He leans in and smells her neck. “You smell nice.”

Caroline now a little uncomfortable but when he smelt her his heartbeat jumped. “ Ok its called taking a shower and perfume.”

If it was even possible Klaus gets even closer to her. “Why are you giving me such a hard time Caroline Forbes.”

“We’ve never had a conversation.”

“Looks like we’ll have to change that. I feel like we are going to be great friends.”

Klaus leans down to give Caroline a kiss as his lips hover over hers they both hear. “Klaus!”

They both look at the stairs going upstairs and Rebekah is coming down. With Klaus distracted Caroline makes her escape as she is going around Klaus she smiles at Rebekah. “Hey beks.”

Rebekah smiles at her.

Xxx

Klaus, Rebekah and Kol are sitting in the library and Rebekah hits Klaus in the arm. “Really klaus.”

“We need to know there is only one explanation for the basketball trick this morning.”

“And if she wasn’t she would be dead. And you would be prime suspect number one.”

Kol chimes in with “The basketball stunt is all over school everyone is talking about it.”

“If Rebekah would of not interrupted my test we would know.”

“She’s my friend plus Nik you were coming off creepy. Seriously smelling her neck we don’t have a specific smell making us different then everyone else.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas.”

Kol asks. “You’ve been friends with her for three years and you’ve never noticed anything.”

Rebekah side eyes her older brothers. “Its not like we are doing ritual sacrifices and I can see if she heals quickly or lazer tag to see if she has night vision, we’re not doing cheerleading or gymnastics to see if she can jump high. Am I supposed to pretend to want to paint her nails and see if claws extend.”

“We need to find out before they find her that is if she is one of us.”

Xxx

Caroline works at a clothing store/bookstore with a cafe. She doesn’t understand the merge of the two but the clothing store goes into the little cafe off the bookstore. There’s no middle wall between the two. While at the counter of the clothing store a brunette teenager comes to her. “ I’m new to this town, do you know cool spots to check out?”

Caroline turns around and comes face to face with the new student at her school Stefan salvatore she had heard there was a new student. “There is a nice cafe over there. It’s California so people like to hang outside.”

Since it’s a slow day at the shop Caroline and Stefan sit in cafe and talk. “How do you like San Francisco so far?”

“Its nice my dad moves us around a lot. Its just the three of us my dad my older brother and me my mom died years ago.”

“I’m sorry, my dad left years ago its like he’s dead we never hear from him.”

As Stefan is leaving Caroline watches him leave he’s cute.

Xxx

All day Caroline has had this lingering feeling to visit coil tower, she doesn’t know why she visited this place when she was younger before her dad left. As she is walking up the stairs to the building she notices a man in all black and has scars on his face. Three claw marks down the right side of his cheek and neck. The man is watching her go into the tower. As she is looking around at the base of the tower she notices the guy is following her. She figures she’ll lose him going up to the tower since there are thirteen levels of stairs.

Xxx

Present:

Rebekah and Kol had snuck away to find Caroline’s body which people have started to surround around. As Kol and Rebekah are trying to get through Kol announces. “Nothing to see here folks just a prank.”

They hear a women say. “A prank I saw her fall from the tower.”

As Kol is lifting Caroline up Rebekah goes over to the women. “Are you sure your feeling ok your saying a lot of crazy stuff.”

Xxx

Klaus opens the door to the penthouse as Kol brings Caroline in, Rebekah rushes over to the couch to make room for Caroline’s body. Their older brother Finn who is on the phone with his wife Sage while looking out the window sees their reflections in the window and pulls the phone away from his ear. “Did you get to her before they did?”

“No but we did bring her here. When she wakes we will explain everything.”

Finn turns around to see Caroline’s lifeless body laying on the couch. “And how do you know this girl is one of us?”

Kol looks up at him. “She one handed tossed my basketball down a crowded hallway and made a perfect basket in a garage can.”

Finn puts the phone back to his ear to tell Sage he loves her and he’ll call her back. “How long has she been like this?”

All three of his younger siblings look at each other. “An hour.”

“The first death and the loss of innocence is always the longest to come back from.”

Xxx

As Kol’s popcorn is finishing in the microwave Caroline’s eyes open and she looks around at the dark penthouse she is in. Moonlight shining in from a wall of windows, she’s laying on a black couch and there two black chairs on each side of the couch. The last thing she remembers is being at coil tower and that creepy guy following her.

Rebekah is in her bedroom and Klaus is in his studio, Kol went to go make popcorn and Finn was in charge of watching Caroline’s body to see if it did something. While waiting Finn called Sage back he wasn’t paying attention to the couch and the now awake blonde.

Caroline looks around and sees Kol in the kitchen pouring popcorn into a bowl and a man she does not know talking on the phone she gets up and is a little lightheaded really confused on how she got here and her headache is still hurting. As she is going towards the elevator Kol comes out of the kitchen and puts an arm around her waist and picks her up.

“You can’t leave yet.”

She kicks him but it does nothing, she never know Kol was this strong. “What is happening and why are you holding me hostage?”

Kol carries her back over to the couch. “I know it looks like that but this is for you own good. Finn you had one job watch her. Can you get Klaus and Rebekah.”

Finn puts his phone back in his pocket. “I’m in charge here you go get Klaus and Rebekah I’ll watch her.”

“No offense Finn but you didn’t do a good job the last time and I think she could take you.”

Finn flicks his hand and claws comes out of his nails. “I think I can handle one teenage girl.”

Kol rolls his eyes and leaves the living room to get his brother and sister. Caroline looks at the elevator and Finn who is looking at his claws. “ I wouldn’t if I were you. Like my brother said I know this looks bad but we are trying to help you.”

“Help me by keeping me in this dark fortress.”

Finn looks over at her and raises an eyebrow. “Fortress, please this a penthouse.”

Kol re enters with Klaus and Rebekah and Caroline rushes for Rebekah and hugs her finally a friendly familiar face.

Rebekah gets her back on the couch and Klaus sits on the arm of the couch next to Caroline his feet on the couch and arms resting on his knees while Kol sits in a chair off to the side and Finn leans up against the window. Caroline looks at them and they are all looking at her. “Will someone tell me what is going on and how I got here?”

All the siblings look at each other none of them want to explain this it’s hard to explain. Klaus begins. “Kol picked you up after you fell and brought you here.”

Kol adds. “To your death you fell and died.”

Caroline shoots up and exclaims. “What I died. I’m dead, the afterlife is full of Mikaelsons. I can’t die it’s my sixteenth birthday I still have not got a car yet.”

Kol looks over at his siblings. “I don’t know whether to be insulted by that.”

Finn sighs. “How did I end up with this?”

“Freya is busy, Elijah is on a date and Sage is out of town on business.” Finn glares at his sister.

Klaus looks up at Kol while Rebekah tries to get Caroline to sit back down. “I was going to ease her into that tidbit.”

Rebekah gets Caroline to sit back down and is rubbing her arm up and down. “Your not dead... anymore. Look you are like us your Mai.”

Caroline looks over at Klaus and raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me I’m not yours.”

Rebekah tries this time. “No Mai are a group of people who have amazing abilities were not all human but not all god we are descendants of a powerful goddess Bestet we were once protectors of humans and used to help Pharaohs but we got sick of taking orders and the mai and humans had a falling out, for centuries now we’ve been hunted. That man earlier with the scars he was sent to kill you and if we didn’t intervene he would of kept killing you.”

“Kept killing me how many lives do I have?”

Finn from the windows tells her. “Nine we all have nine some refer to us as Demigods, our abilities manifest when we are teenagers.”

Caroline looks at Rebekah. “Is this a joke?”

Rebekah shakes her head no.

“I have claws like him.” She points at Finn.

Rebekah lifts Caroline’s hands up and her finger nails are longer and look like claws. Caroline’s eyes widen. “How do they go away?”

“Relax.”

“That’s easy for you to say you didn’t just learn you died and came back with claws and have had a headache all day.” She glares at Kol for telling her to relax.

Finn leans off the window taking charge. “I know you’ve just been told a lot of things and processing but maybe you would like to go home, you said it was your birthday why don’t you go home and celebrate.”

His three siblings look up at him Finn sometimes can be so insensitive. Caroline nods and Finn flicks a finger to Klaus to take her home.

In the elevator down to the lobby Caroline is pacing and Klaus stops her and puts both hands on her shoulders. “You need to relax did you forget that part where we are being hunted if someone sees claws they will try to kill us.”

Caroline nods and tries to make them go away by closing her eyes tightly but nothing. “Breath with me.”

As the elevator doors open the claws disappear.

Xxx

Klaus drives them to her house, as he drives he asks her, “You were born in the Ukraine right?”

Caroline nods. “How did you know?”

“Mai are not born in America, we come from Europe, Ukraine, Russia that’s where my family was born we moved to London later. Since Mai and humans have had a falling out we can never have a intimate relationship with them. You can not date a human I saw you earlier at that clothing store flirting with that new guy at school that’s all it can be Caroline if you kiss him something bad will happen.”

“Bad how bad?”

“If a Mai kisses a human the human dies best case scenario paralyze before death.”

Caroline turns towards him as he pulls up to her house. “Mai can only kiss mai.”

Klaus nods. “Want to practice.”

Caroline rolls her eyes. “Any more changes?”

“Claws, enhanced hearing, faster reflexes, hyper awareness, accelerated healing, night vision, your stronger now and what am I forgetting oh yeah a tail.”

“What?”

Klaus laughs “Just kidding. About the tail everything else you do get.”

As she is opening the car door. She tells him. “Not funny.”

“Don’t worry one of us will always be there for you, watching out for you.”

Xxx

As Caroline is coming up the front stairs of the two story home she shares with her mom. When she opens the door Davina and Enzo jump out and yell “Surprise!”

Caroline screams and in seconds Klaus is right behind her he places a hand on her shoulder and she jumps they both can hear how fast Caroline’s heart is beating. Klaus leans down and whispers in her ear. His breath tickling as she hears. “Breath.”

She looks up at him surprised he’s here, she thought he left how did he get there so fast. “You forgot this in the car.” He hands her a long black velvet jewelry box. “Happy birthday.”

Xxx

After he leaves Davina and Enzo surround her. “What was Klaus Mikaelson doing here? And what did he give you.”

“You two have had quite the journey today from where you two were this morning.”

Caroline rubs her temple she can hears heartbeats, car’s driving past, clocks ticking, conversations in other homes their TVs. People going for nightly jogs she can hear their music. “Its been an interesting day.” She opens the jewelry box and her eyes widen at the beautiful diamond infinity bracelet.

Liz comes home and sees her daughter and two best friends on the couch. “Your present is here.”

Caroline’s eyes widen and Liz puts her hands over her daughters and guides her outside and there in front of the house on the street is a powder baby blue convertible bug. “Ahhh thank you so much mom.” Caroline flings her arms around her mom’s neck.

Xxx

Later that night after Davina and Enzo went home Liz pulls out a small cinnamon crumb cake for two she gives Caroline and fork and they sit at the island and eat it. After they finish Liz tucks a piece of hair behind Caroline’s ear. “Did you have a good birthday sweetie.”

“It’s definitely one for the books.”

Liz pulls out a card and hands it to her daughter. “This was in the mailbox.”

The envelope does not have a return address it’s addressed to her. She opens the card and all it says is Happy Birthday H.R.

Every year she gets a card from H.R. she doesn’t know who they are and there is never a return address. She has all of them in a shoebox under her bed. One day she hopes to find out who H.R. is.

Xxx

As Caroline is drifting off to sleep Klaus is sitting on her roof watching to see if any harm will come to her. Also her email dings and it’s a email from her father that says happy birthday.

#klaroline #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #multi chapters #davina claire #kol mikaelson #enzo st john #finn mikaelson #the nine lives of Caroline Forbes #liz forbes

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authoressskr · 3 years

Text

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta :: Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated :: Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

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

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together.

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx::

Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging: @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #authoressskr writes #dragon!soulmate!au #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #part i

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 012

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey all! Billy and Evie continue their strange mating ritual. TW: Mentions of past abuse and student/teacher relationship. Heavy petting. SMUT. Phone sex. ;)

TAG LIST OPEN. Chat with me if you have the time xoxo

Chapter 12: Cupid and Psyche

Evie groaned the next time she woke.

Pain blared like the morning sun streaming on her face. Flames licking supple cheeks.

Billy gone in the bed upon turning over.

His scent apparent all over her damn sheets. Seeped into the pillows. Aramis. Hairspray. Paco Rabanne Pour Homme. Evie wondered if Billy liked to leave parts of himself where he goes. An impression similar to hands in wet concrete.

Sometimes a warm body pressed up against you was the only thing reminding you that you were here.

She curled around his pillow to inhale. Felt butterflies flutter her stomach. Landing on delicate organs to decorate them in jewel toned wings. Iridescent glows that washed harsh reds away.

Evie wondered what it would be like to crystallize. Utterly.

Feet touched the floor to leave such fantasies aside. Those butterflies decayed upon seeing her face in the mirror. Hissing, fingertips gingerly touched the skin on fire. Upset welts around her puffy eye. Lungs gave a shudder before Evie was scrambling to replace the emptiness.

Needy fingers went for her drawer and pulled out a box labeled “FB + EF.” Pushed all the way in back hidden under sheer and lacy panties. Hands clicked around the little pieces of jewelry she wasn’t able to wear in the open until she lifted a brooch to the light. A sparkling ladybug.

Fredrick got for her during the first month of that magical summer. They went to some dirty adult party three cities away where people in their twenties and thirties were doing cocaine out in the open. Evie shared a tab of acid with Fredrick that unlocked her entire psyche. Draped herself into him to watch colors spin along the TV. Felt his hand palm her breast before they found a room.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Evie asked between kisses, coming down from her trip and sweltering with heat. Trembling too hard.

“What?” He actually laughed into her mouth, came out and pulled her body flush. “You’re not fat, love, you’re so beautiful.”

At the time, Evie wasn’t sure how that answer made her feel worse.

But, the lady bug pin was now scuttling into her stomach. She nearly broke the drawer with her clenched fists pushing it down.

Exhale.

Oh, how she moaned like a wanting slut that night. Rode Fredrick hard and turned over afterward for him. Started to cry when he tried to take her home afterwards because she didn’t want to go.

Didn't want the dreaming to end. She wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever.

It was their first fight. He screamed she was being a child and manipulating him. They both shouted about telling her mother the truth.

Evie really started to sob that she hated him and he just held her wrists and kissed her deeply. Softened suddenly as she fell into his arms. Told her she was too pretty to be so upset. That she had a hold on him. That he was starting to fall deeply and madly in love with her.

And that made her feel like a god.

They ended up back at his place. Evie got home the next day to Mona hiding her pack of smokes behind a picture of Dolly Parton. Not asking where her daughter had been all night. Just said to get ready for her next talent show.

Hungover, Evie still won the prize money that went into some new clothes, her future fund, and fresh paint for the salon. Talent scouts cooed to keep growing.

“Evie!” A knock startled her daydreams. The drawer smacked shut. Heather poked her face in and frowned. “Oh, honey...you need some more ice on that. We made pancakes.”

“We?”

“Steve and I. Billy went home to shower, he had to give Max a ride somewhere. Come on, eat some breakfast.”

Evie changed, rubbing her throat on the way out. Steve blinked at her and tried not to wince.

“I know it’s not pretty.” Evie pressed her lips.

“You saw me after Hargrove kicked my ass.” Steve reached over the little island counter to give her chin this encouraging tap. Darling smile curling. Heather put a big plate down so Evie slid onto a stool.

“Thanks, sorry I passed out last night.”

“Ice cream will be a good pick me up later.” Heather kissed Evie’s good side. “Want us to stick around today?”

“Ah, we can hang out tonight. I gotta clean up and I wanted to go talk to Billy about something.” Evie took a bite and sighed. Steve and Heather exchanged looks. “Nothing happened. Perverts.”

A beat before laughter erupted. It felt so needed this hour

** ** **

Evie tried to use makeup to cover the easier welts. Felt useless with her eye socket the size and color of Jupiter. A huff before she flicked a brush aside and stood. She left Blue on the couch before venturing out. Frost and slush marked the unforgiving winter outside. Evie had waited until Neil’s car left and crossed over. Knocked.

Susan poked her head out.

“Oh, Evie, I... Dear, what happened?” Susan’s wedding ring caught the light as she touched her lips with worry. Red hair piled up upon her head and a sea foam sweater dress.

“I slipped on the ice.” Lashes batted. “Sorry, I caught you in the middle of something.”

“No, I was unpacking the last few boxes in our garage. Shifting some furniture. Think we’re finally moved in. I was just going to change and catch the bus, our shelves are bare.” Susan held the door back.

“I was here to see Billy, is he…?” Evie trailed off when she heard it. The blasting music from the farthest bedroom. Shut tight.

“Yes, in his room. Evie, he’s… He’s in a mood and might not come out.”

“A mood?” Evie studied the woman. Thin hands clasping so hard that they paled.

“Maybe a friendly face will be good.” Susan decided, not convinced but too polite to turn Evie away now. “Go on ahead.”

It appeared Max was out with friends. Susan disappeared into the kitchen after gesturing so Evie crossed down the hallway. Knocked and wasn’t heard. Pounded harder.

“I’m busy, Susan!” Came the bark.

“Not Susan.” Evie shot right back. There was a curse before some scrambling and the door yanked open. Billy in a white tank tucked into some jeans with grey socks. Lax. Chain shifting as he breathed. “You look real busy.”

Eyes screwed up at her. Seemingly irritated.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left, I just...wanted to hang out. Talk, I mean.” Her feet shuffled before she matched his taller posture. Chin lifting.

“Getting clingy on me.”

“As if you have any business talking about that.” She joked, arms crossing.

“I spent the night in your bed. We shot the shit, I’m not your boyfriend.” His clipped tone etched some surprise over Evie’s face.

“Okay, asshole, when and where did I ask if you wanted to be my damn boyfriend? You going to ease up a little bit? I don’t need that.” Evie flared and he sucked in his cheeks before pulling her into his room and shutting the door. “The fuck is your problem all the sudden?”

Billy had gone to turn the music down a bit, head craning to see her pressed into his door. One of his hands was idly rubbing his ribs. Some of their anger died. A tense expression crossed his face.

Evie realized she’d never really seen the inside of his room. Smelled like Billy. Smoke, hairspray, and cologne. Random plates and beer cans with smashed cigarette buds. A little vanity made of crates. Near empty shelves. Weights laying round. Laundry mostly in a basket propped up in the corner. Curtains that were really clipped up sheets. Something somber about it all. Like nothing was his. Like he had to make the space livable. Bearable.

“I don’t plan for guests.” He plucked up a pack of cigarettes.

“Bullshit, I see girls climbing in and out of your window.” Evie lightened the tension. Billy hitched as if he might chuckle. Felt guilty instead.

“Well, help yourself to a seat.” Billy kicked back into a beaten brown couch so Evie nudged her shoes aside and joined him on the other end. “Well?” He lit himself a smoke and scratched his chin, eyes on the window.

“About last night, that stuff I said...”

“Weren’t drunk so you can’t take it back.” The white hot cherry pointed to her.

“I’m just saying," Evie gestured at air, "it was a lot.”

“Me beating the fuck out of our second period teacher was a lot.” Billy got his cigarette snatched before he plucked it back. “Think of your pretty voice, yeah?”

Evie pouted, made this rumbling sound at him before she sat back.

It clicked in Billy’s head.

“You’re looking to drown your sorrows. Finally something I can really help with.” Billy reached over the couch and came up with a bottle of amber liquid. There was an unmistakable sound of the front door closing, signalling Susan had left.

“Heather and Steve wouldn’t approve.” Evie took the bottle anyways. Gulped.

“Easy, jesus.” Billy drank after. One quick swig. Watched her bring her legs up to cross them. Leggings and a thick, violet sweater with wool socks. Curls spilling. “Small drinks, don’t be an idiot.”

“Strong words from you.” She sipped that time. Savored the woody burn as it went down.

“Don’t I know it?” He puffed. Evie offered him the bottle and sighed, relaxing before she spoke.

“Did Fredrick cry when you hit him?”

“Like a bitch.” Billy exhaled smoke. “Drove past his place after I dropped Max off at her friend’s. Cleared the fuck out.”

“Oh.” It still ached. This person who touched her life was suddenly gone. Maybe never to return. Like her father. It should have been a fucking comfort and instead everything ugly swimming under Evie’s skin pushed to the surface.

“Did you like it?” A whisper.

“I always do.” He spoke, drank about it. Evie thought back to leveling Tannen’s face. Silently agreed. Wondered when he would break his chains to get revenge.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Her tone droned next.

“Why are you asking me stupid questions, Evie?” Billy’s cigarette was hanging lazily from his lips. Bold, crystalline eyes appeared bored at her as an arm came up on the couch. She blinked at him.

Evie liked that reply. She was fat. She was pretty, too. She hoped. They can coexist. Billy could just be crass about it. Obscene.

She enjoyed that about him, too. Even if she wouldn't admit it.

“Do you think about fucking me when you masturbate?” She said in the same controlled tone.

Billy choked, almost inhaling his lit stick, and spit it on the floor. Still coughing, his head snapped with bulging eyes. Stepping on the cigarette to kick it under the beaten sofa.

Pride swelled.

“What the fuck, Evie?” He set the liquor aside. Evie was on her feet lightning quick so he got up also. Just as quick. “Hey, why’d you come here?”

She had the door open when his palm smacked it shut. Evie spun there, pressed between him and the wood. Billy breathing into her space. One arm still outstretched. Too intent.

Evie thought for a moment, she heard his pulse begin to race.

Her heavy eyes flashed at him. Waiting there for something to crack.

And then trembling fingers dipped and clicked the lock on the doorknob without breaking eye contact.

This shrewd look crossed his eyes. Filled his whole expression with neon light.

God damn, he was just too beautiful. Stunning like ethereal Cupid about to revive Psyche with true love's kiss after their trials. Wings unfurling all delicate and feathery. They both crystallized.

“I should go.” Evie said without trying. Not moving an inch. Billy dropped his arms and stepped back to see her. Flicking his eyes before he let his light burn. Leaned forward and bit the inside of his cheek. A rasp.

“Take your fucking clothes off.”

Evie threw herself at him.

Knocked Billy back into the bed while their lips collided. The boy caught fire. He pushed her to turn them over. Already shoving between her legs. So hard, he figured he might blow his load right there. Evie’s lips on his neck made it worse. Made him moan until his leg shook like a dog’s would.

Yeah, it had been awhile.

“Fuck.” Billy pulled up, left Evie pawing for him. Fingers under her sweater to yank.

“Wait.” Evie gasped out so he stopped. All her fervor hid under the bed. Unable to meet those eyes.

“What?” Billy sat back on his knees. “Scared I won’t like what I see?”

“It’s too bright in here.” She turned to let the sheets fall over the blinds. Went for the other.

“Leave some light. Wanna see you.” Billy batted his lashes as he said that. Made her melt. Quickly, he pulled his own shirt off. Flashed the reason for all this anger earlier. Splotchy bruises along his ribs where Neil’s knuckles pushed in for whatever reason he picked that morning.

Evie paused to see them. Saw Billy’s rock hard chest sink in. Reached out and got her wrist snatched. Gentle as can be.

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes averted.

“Don’t worry about mine.” Evie asked so Billy cupped her face and pushed her back into the sheets. She paused only to sit up and remove her top. Covered in fracturing rosy marks across fleshy curves. Before she had a chance to get insecure, Billy cut in.

“Leggings, too.” He winked, snapping the fabric. She scowled instead.

“You first.” Evie undid the loop of his belt, teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she did. Billy felt himself shudder. Stood up so she followed.

They stared at each other. Didn’t touch and undressed there in the too soft lights down to their underwear.

Billy’s eyes followed the swell of her breasts. Everything about Evie was plush. Dark curls hung over her shoulders. Really looked like a twisting goddess from a painting. She had her hands in front of her stomach and dropped them when he crossed. Inching her back into the wall.

A hand cupped her jaw before their lips opened. Arms went around his shoulders. Unafraid that he was looking at her in daylight.

Alive. Both of them felt alive.

Billy pressed further, let their bodies melt together. Tested how she felt against him. Flesh on flesh.

Several sensations erupted the moment his mouth was on her neck. Clouds bursting with rain. Fireworks splashing the night sky. Petals unfurled within Evie’s stomach. Gemstones grew out to crystallize. She wondered how pretty she’d be if Billy took a chisel to her flesh. Cracked the shell open. She ran her hands over his arms and felt the soft hairs there. Pulled him even in closer.

Fingers slid one bra strap down. Evie coaxed him further with digits woven into golden curls. Maybe Billy had a point about her being molten because she was about to spill hot between his fingers.

He came up. Moaned into her mouth. Palms gripping at flesh. Like he had to feel all of her at once. Evie bit her lip, neck craning back so he could inch lower again.

Billy Hargrove is about to fuck me, she could have giggled, and I’m going to fuck him hard and thoughtlessly.

She hitched a gasp just as his fingertips inched into cotton panties. Got ready to pull him back into bed.

Billy’s head lifted. The earring dangled almost violently when a door slammed. Evie’s dreams were sent scattering before they frozen together. Marble.

Water pouring over red hot iron to elicit the tempering sizzle.

“Fuck.” Billy recognized the sound. “Fuck. My dad.” He kept saying, pushing Evie’s clothing at her. “You need to go. Out the window.”

“What?” Evie barely had time to get dressed while he helped her. Both of them bursting at the seams. Billy yanked his jeans up and got the window open. Guided Evie over it as she was still forcing her sweater on.

“Billy!” Came a bark at the front of the house. Stomping followed. Evie plopped into the snowy grass with a groan as Billy dropped her shoes into her lap. Evie scrambled back up around the back of her house. Slammed the door and fell back against it like she had to hide too.

Lungs sputtered.

“What the fuck?” Her cheeks were an obscene cherry shade. She felt Billy all over her. Ached all between her thighs even in wet clothing. Huffed because she was unfucked and her sweater was inside out. “Shit.” Evie scrambled to her bedroom. Blue scuttled out to a food dish as Evie jerked the curtain open. Couldn’t see anything in Billy’s room.

Her phone rang.

“Yes?” A cry into the receiver.

“Cute that you worried for me.” Cool and even. Almost macho.

She puffed, sinking.

“Shut up.”

“Guess my dad’s beer run wasn’t as long as I thought.” Billy blew air out his lips. “Was hoping he’d be working today. They cut his hours down this week for some reason. Made him real fucking happy.”

“Come over here.”

“No, I’m locked in for playing my music too loud and for being disrespectful this morning. Gotta wait till later, he’ll get drunk enough and forget.” Billy reclined on his bed. Something horrible there because he was used to this. Music was playing softer behind him. Mingling with Neil in the living room watching some show play on. “You’re...intense.” His blase attitude and joke almost set Evie at ease. She fell into bed, eyes rolling.

“Uh. So, are you." A beat. "...Were you surprised?”

“Yeah, actually. I had you figured for a shy, little birdie.”

“Everyone thinks that about me. I sing and dance. I like sex and stage lights. I get mad. I’m not shy. Maybe at times about my...but, I get over it. Women can be as intense as men in the sack, you know?” Evie sounded insulted.

“Don’t worry, I’m a quick learner.” He’d mused. “Learning new things about you every day.”

Evie couldn’t explain why that made her blush. Hard. The silky timbre of his voice lulling her into genuine security.

“Learned that I can make out your accent more when you’re sleepy, on the phone, and in lust.”

“In lust? Shut up.” She mocked. “Don’t have an accent. You probably can’t even tell the uptown and downtown accents apart in N'awlins.” Ah shit. Billy found that hilarious as Evie cringed.

“That so, N'awlins?” Billy countered. “Just say the word, bayou, for me.”

“...That’s a hard pass. Are all Cali boys this insufferable?” She rolled over to swing her legs up.

“We are, actually. But, I am the prettiest.” His smile dazzled with no one to admire it. Evie saw it in her mind and wanted to just toss him over town.

“I’ll give you that for admitting it.” A breath followed. Evie toyed with one of her curls. Tugged. “I had you all shaky there.” His tongue clicked.

“No idea what you mean.” That cheekiness she enjoyed dripped from his rich tone. “Bummed, I was this close to seeing your tits.”

“They’ll be the same later. I think. I don’t know, I always thought they were shaped funny.” Brown eyes turned to the ceiling as she rolled back. one arm behind her head.

“Later, she says. Huh. And I’ll be the judge of that. I’m a professional and I’m not picky. Any shape is good, I’m in this for the taste.”

“Sleaze.” Evie pouted and a chuckle sounded. Billy sighed. "How'd you get my number, by the way?"

"Begged it from Heather on my way out. I can be smooth." He said. “You really want me over tonight? Steve and Heather won’t approve, am I right?”

She let out an aggravated sigh and Billy smiled again to himself. Imagined that scrunchy pout she liked to make. Fingers tapping his bare stomach.

“I mean, we can…hang out. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Like you came over just now to hang out, chica?”

“I didn’t come over just for that.”

“Sure. As if you also didn’t wet your blue panties for me.”

“You’re so gross.” Evie rubbed her legs together. Remembered his hands worshiping her flesh. Her flesh that she was conditioned to hate. Adjusted the phone and licked her lips. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’m just saying we can easily pick up where we left off, Evie.” The name rolled sinfully from his tongue. She swallowed. Flashes of Billy across her brain. His peachy tanned skin. His gold curls. His lips kissing her.

“Remind me where that was? Landed pretty hard there when you pushed me out the window.”

“Shit, yeah. About that-”

“I get it.” Evie didn’t need to make him explain. “I didn’t land on my head. Still raw from…” Where Fredrick tossed her into the wall. They both went silent. Just listened to each other breathe. Evie gave this dreamy sigh. “I like...your arm hair and I like the way you smell.”

He laughed.

"You're a funny girl, Evie."

"It's just...that intensity you have, I don't know. You are pretty." She rubbed her face. "I don't know what I'm saying."

“Your perfume goes right to my dick. You know that, too.” His joke lightened them both again. Evie rolled her eyes. “Explains why you practically crawl into my skin at night.” Billy remembered suddenly that he’d spent two nights with Evie and hadn’t screwed her. That was a rarity.

“You snore a little. Couple of grunts. Sorta adorable.”

“Don’t even get my started on how dead silent you get.” Billy’s eyes trailed over his room. He could still smell her honey amber scent lingering. Hummed into the pillow. Obsession by Calvin Klein. Odd scent for a teen, but matching him in intensity and she wore it so subtly. All they could do was battle and weave together. Obsession and Aramis. This strange dance he was thrilled to continue.

“Never answered my question.”

“Already forgot it. Was it where we left off or what I’d do to you next?” Lips curled as her breath hitched. “Let’s see. I had you against the wall. Moaning so pretty. Lipstick smeared.”

Evie almost didn’t speak up when he paused before...

“And?”

“And I was gonna keep kissing down your tits. Get the rest of your clothes off. Tongue my way over your sweet nipples. Stomach too, I like to cover all the ground I can. See how shy you really are.” He licked his lips and Evie’s eyes got heavy.

“Not so shy when I tell you to keep going.”

“No, I guess not. Not until I push your sensitive thighs open, I bet you’d quake and purr. Blush like you clearly are now.”

Evie realized she’d been holding her breath. Didn’t even fight him. Clutching her sweater as he spoke so casually.

“It’s a real fucking tragedy. Me, waiting longer before I find out how you taste. That’s all I’m saying.” Billy’s breath was labored on the other end. “Still with me here, Angel?”

“Is...this your private line?”

Another snicker.

“Obviously. Why?” Billy had his jeans open. Bit his lip while he pooled arousal around his tip. Watched it trickle down into his stomach. Again. No reply. “Answer was yes, by the way… What you asked early if I thought about you. I do a lot. Fucking you. Eating you out. I knew you were a hair puller, we have that in common.”

“Not sure I trust you to last and get the job done with how worked up you get. All the trembling, it was kinda cute.”

“You clearly haven’t ridden my tongue.”

Fuck him.

“You have to actually stop talking to do that, Billy.” Evie laughed in the open and Billy smiled brighter, eyes crinkling. He walked into that one. Idly, she ran her fingers up her thigh. “Between you and I, I never let guys eat me out.”

Billy stopped to sit up.

“No shit?”

“It always made me nervous so I stopped them when they tried. All the mouth action comes from me.” Evie had sat up on the other end too. “I’m pretty good actually.”

“You’d let me fuck that beautiful mouth after I taste you?” He’d cooed. “Betcha that lipstick won’t look half bad on my skin since you never did start buying waterproof.”

“I guess it’s only fair.” Evie dropped her tone. “Still think you can’t handle it.”

“There’s the ego I was hoping for.” He shook his head. “But, I have to say, sweetheart, you’re missing out. That’s the real crime, not letting yourself get tongue fucked once in a while. Do you not know how to treat yourself?”

Evie mashed her face into the nearest pillow.

“I can’t stand you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She muffled and Billy only laughed again, laying down. Imagined how cherry her lips and cheeks must have looked. Thought about tracing his thumb over her wet mouth. Smeared in slick red.

“Don’t get shy on me now. We established you weren’t.”

“It’s weird.”

“Not weird. You just let a guy kiss down and nature takes over.”

“It’s not that simple with me.”

“Sure, it is. Let me walk you through it. Take your leggings and panties off.” He licked his lips. “C’mon, we got time to kill now.” There was some shuffling.

“It’s not a big deal,” Evie undressed anyways, “it’s just...I think about the angle and guys looking up and seeing my stomach and I get freaked out.”

“Sweetheart, my mouth will be buried in your pussy, I ain’t worried about your flesh. I’m more worried about my technique. These things you get so worked up about. Guys really don’t give a shit, the good ones anyways.” His vulgarity sent these fizzles all down her nerves. Actually made her feel better. “You just...tip your head back and enjoy it. Although, I don’t mind a little praise and eye contact. Make me feel like a good boy for once.”

“And I can’t like...play with myself to help?”

“You can, but just relax and let me take over. You can trust me to make you feel good, Evie. Might be nice to give up some control.”

He had no idea that he’d hit a nail on the head.

“So, kisses. Thighs open.” Evie settled into the pillows, free hand twisted into fabric with a cool breeze on her thighs. Breasts rising. “Would you use your fingers too?”

“If you ask me sweetly.” Billy saw beads of precum all over his abdomen. Throbbed and tried not to grunt. “I’d like to. I’d like to lick my way inside you. Hold your legs open and kiss your clit until you’re begging for more. Love the view of you. Spread open and wet for me. Like how you feel.”

“You’ve never been with a girl my size.” Evie broke into his daydreams.

“You don’t know that.” He paused. It was true.

“Yes, I do, Billy.” Evie didn’t know why the thought was stark and gnawing. “I’m bigger than you. Wider. Maybe even heavier.”

“Bet, I can lift you just fine.” He rubbed his face, eyes searching. “I liked it. Touching you. I wasn’t shy about it, was I? Fucking soft. I’m not used to that against me. You’re warm and when I squeezed you against me, I wanted to throw you on my bed so fucking bad. Can't explain it.”

She went silent so he found a joke.

“If it makes you so nervous, I promise to let you suck me off after.”

“A dashing gentleman if I ever saw one.” She broke out of the nerves.

“Just think about it, Evie. You ever just take the time to appreciate how wet you made someone? Up close. It's a thrill.” Billy hitched as he palmed himself. Evie swallowed a lump.

“Are you…?”

“Am I, what?” Billy’s labored breathing made it obvious, but he wanted her to say it.

“Did I make you wet?”

“Jeans are ruined for the day.” He offered, husky under the music. “Should have risked hiding you in the closet.”

“We would have so been caught.”

“His problem.” Billy gruffed, changed the subject to work himself up. “Two clasps away from those tits. I won’t forget that.”

“Maybe I’ll play with them since you’re not here to.” She moved a hand under her sweater and Billy outright groaned.

“What do you taste like?”

“I recall you predicting heaven.” Sarcasm etched out. “It's possible you’ll find out if I’m in the mood again. I could be just now realizing this was a lapse in judgement.”

“Ah huh.” Billy gave himself a few strokes. Evie listened to him sigh too soft and husky in her ear. Pictured him atop her. Rock hard and moaning. Gorgeous like Apollo. Sun streaming upon his back. Illuminating curls.

She slid her fingers down. Hitched a sigh because she was soaked and aching.

“Would you kiss me after I sucked you off?” Evie played with herself. Let him hear the moan.

“With tongue. You could spit directly into my mouth for all I care. In fact, I might like that.” Billy hummed, tone changing to give an order. “Slip your fingers in if you haven’t already. I know what you’re doing, Evangeline.”

“You were doing it first.” Evie’s head pressed back into the pillows. She spread her legs and drew circles into herself, pressed two fingers in and moaned.

“Who’s fucking you right now, Angel?”

“Oh, you.” She was forward about that. Heart thumping. “Want your mouth and hands.”

“Told you.” His head tilted back. Tried to stay immersed in the lingering scent of her. “Play with your clit again. That’ll do until I get my tongue on you.”

Evie cursed that time. Accent lacing her tone. It made him smile brighter.

“If I had it my way, you won’t play with yourself at all. Know that? You want to get off, you just come to me and let me take care of you.”

“What a chore.” Evie sped and started to rock into her own touch.

“I’m always up to the task.”

Billy worked himself on the other end to every little mewl and sigh. Dirty talk went out the window as she gasped. Started to build herself up. Pictured Billy slicked and surrendered against cotton sheets. Stunning and batting his lashes while he opened his mouth and pumped his fist.

“Get yourself there, Angel, don’t wait for me.” He heard her curse louder and almost drop the phone back. With Billy’s little murmurs of dirty encouragement, she rubbed perfect circles. Imagined his fingers and tongue. His sly eyes and those fucking lashes. Muscles bulging hot under her grasp. Evie cried out, succumbed there and hitched to shake and shudder. Billy closed his eyes while she got off. Couldn’t wait to be the one who got her there.

“Fuck, Evie. You’re killing me.” One fists jerked up and down. Unable to get close because he was distracted with her. “I can’t...fucking shit. I was almost there a moment ago when you were here and now, ah…fucking hell.”

“Sounds like you need help.” Evie stretched like a cat against her pillows. Still trembling.

“Or another hand.” He sighed. “Or a mouth. Think about how you’d leave that red lipstick all over my dick.”

“I got an idea. If you give me shit, I’ll end you.” Evie pushed her blissful body up. “Come up to the window.”

“What…” Billy shoved a sheet aside to see her. Out of breath and curls sticking all over. Blushed and fucked. Gorgeous. “What are you doing?” He was still slowly jerking himself to keep the momentum. Evie looked around the grass and shrubbery. Rolled her eyes before lifting up her shirt and moving the bra down.

Billy’s mouth dropped along with his phone so she giggled as he disappeared to grab it.

“Fuck!” Billy caught himself and returned.

“Are they everything you pictured?” She bit her lip and winked. He was dead intent on her tits. Mouth open. Working himself harder.

“Push them against the window.”

Her hard, dark rosy nipples pressed there and Billy moaned. Wished he had them in his hands. Wished he would fuck her mouth and shoot his load on them.

“Yes, Evie, fuck.” He submitted. Almost sounded like a zombie. Under her spell. Typical boy. Working himself until… “Gonna cum.” Strings of release hit the wall as Billy dropped the phone again to finish. Evie still heard his muffled moans on the end and brought herself back down, giggling at the same time Billy fell into his pillows.

“Did I lose you, Billy?”

“No, but if you could pick my balls up off the floor, that’d be great.” He puffed and felt around for a tee to clean up with. “Okay. I’m gonna say this. We’re going to fuck. Hear me? I am going to fuck you. Can’t today. But, it's happening.”

“So certain. What, are you spent already?”

“Not gonna plan that far, we hang out as you say...and see what happens.” He caught his breath. “Can’t do it here and your two guards are going to be on you this week.”

“You thought awhile about this.” Evie licked her lips, still fixing her bra in place. “Maybe my common sense comes back.”

“Maybe you admit you’re warming up to me again. Sizzling fuse.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Evie rose out of bed and paused to sigh. Tone shifting. "Billy?"

"Hm?"

“What if he comes back?”

“He’s scared. He won’t. I stopped him.”

“I feel like I’m going to be constantly looking over my shoulder. You know?” Evie didn't want to touch the floor again.

“Then, I guess I know where to stand for your attention.” His quip had Evie biting her lip. Roses bloomed up her thighs and cheeks. “I also left my number under your lamp, by the way. Use it.”

Evie blinked and lifted it to see a torn slip with his handwriting. Slippery bastard.

“Yeah, I got it.” She bit back a smile. “I’ll...ah, see you later, Billy.”

“Yes, you will.” He paused. “One more question. More of a courtesy.”

“What?”

“Preferred method of birth control? Have a couple rubbers. I’m clean, by the way. But, are you an in or out type of girl?”

“Also clean. And I’m an avid user of the pill, smartass. Use that information however you like.” She hung up, leaving Billy to laugh on the other end. He brought the phone away, still so stupid happy. Dreaming himself away.

Psyche went through so many trials for Cupid. Billy wondered about the after. About Eros picking up some trials of his own to keep a girl that tangled him so ardently. About how it felt worth it down to the beating core. All’s fair...

Evangeline Fenny might really be the end of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for tuning in!! That was actually my first full phone sex scene, it's so fun to write these two and their weird dance. I just love them more by the chp. xx Stay and chat with me if you can! As is open :)

TAGGED:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @stanley--barber @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #mine #writing #SOMY #Angel Fenny #billy x angel

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Your Forever Person (Alt Ending)

A/N: read the original version first!

Pairing: Jake Peralta x reader

Summary: Jake stops Y/N from jumping off a bridge. Soulmate AU: your eyes turn a distinctive and bright gold color when you first touch your soulmate.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of suicide, angst with fluffy end

The city lights were bright spots in the distance, blurred by the tears in my eyes. With the sun setting an hour ago, I could only hope the taillights belonged to cars that were taking families safely to their homes, tucking their kids into beds, kissing their soulmates goodnight and pulling the blankets up around each other. It must be nice.

I turned my attention to the scene below me—calm and dark waves a good thirty feet fall from the bridge I stood on. I forced myself to think ahead, watching my arms spread as I closed my eyes and leaned backwards off my perch eagle-style. The rush of ice cold as my back slammed through the barrier of the lake. I would open my eyes as soon as I was under and watch the clear night sky through a hazy and watery filter until I couldn't breathe anymore.

I opened my eyes in real-time and released my fist from around the iron rod I was holding onto, flexing my fingers. I've never been this close to death before, but I'm guessing my fear of what comes next isn't out of the ordinary. Truthfully I have other options but I'm just too tired to look for them. Besides, there's no one around to hope for me to stay.

I took a deep breath and turned my gaze skyward, fearing that I'd chicken out if I looked at the water again. I'd just turned my back to it and steadied my feet on the bridge when I saw him. Walking along the bridge, head turned to watch the reflection of stars in the watery mirror below. My brain screamed at me to hurry up and jump before he saw me but my mouth had other ideas.

"You're out pretty late tonight."

He jumped as he stopped a few feet away, moving his head to look at me around the piece of bridge my hand held onto once again.

"I could say the same for you." He paused a second, throwing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket before bringing his eyes back to me. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice as I replied with "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're standing on the edge of a bridge above a pretty deep body of water." His voice softened. "It's also late and you're alone."

I didn't answer, simply turned my attention to my feet as I shifted my position on the bridge.

"Please come down." His voice cracked, bringing my eyes back to him as he flashes me his police badge. "I promise I'm not a murderer or anything. I just thought it would be nice to talk to you in a not so dangerous spot. You could tell me why you're here, maybe?"

I studied his features in the small amount of light we had, or admired is a better word for it. He was incredibly handsome and the gentleness and sincerity of his tone was almost enough for me to give up on the task at hand. That is, until I remembered why I was here in the first place and tightened my grip on the metal.

"Tell me why you're here first."

He seemed a bit thrown off by my request but complied nonetheless. "I just came from my high school reunion. Hundreds of people in one room and I was literally the only person there without my gold eyes. I've never met my soulmate and at this point I'm starting to think maybe I never will. I thought a walk on my favorite bridge would at least make me feel a little bit better but I forgot how lonely the nighttime is."

It was then that I noticed the defeated expression on his beautiful face and I felt his pain. The pain of sharing the same school as a bunch of people and twenty years later being the only one who hasn't found their forever person. Knowing that it was obvious that I could relate, I took a different approach.

"This is my favorite bridge, too." I noticed his expression brightened a bit.

"Do you come at night a lot?"

"Only when I want to see the full moon." I gestured to the sky and his eyes followed, slowly coming back to me again.

"So what about you?"

"What?"

"Why are you here tonight?" I took a deep breath and shut my eyes to avoid his reaction.

"I just thought now would be a good time to die. I've never found my soulmate. My parents died in a car crash that I survived and my brother hates me so much for surviving that he fled the country." I heard his footsteps drawing near but kept going anyway. "My friends are too busy with their soulmates and kids to even be my friends anymore. My life has sucked for so long that I thought I'd save time on being sad and lonely and just be gone instead."

I opened my eyes at the feeling of his hand around my wrist and gasped at the sight of his. A gold color so bright that they cast a heavenly glow into the dark air between us.

"Sorry I touched you, but I just had a feeling," he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me down to the pavement with him.

I kept staring at him, blinking hard to try to get rid of the burning sensation coming from my own eyes. "For fuck's sake, close your eyes. They're too bright to look at right now."

"I could say the same about yours," he told me through a chuckle as he pulled his phone out, his shocked expression slowly shifting into a smile as bright as the golden globes above it.

"Wait, what? What are you--holy shit." I quickly yanked his phone from his hand, needing a closer look at my reflection. My eyes matched his.

"Nice to meet you, soulmate." He grinned at me as he slid the device back in his pocket, returning the free hand to my waist. "I'm so happy I caught you."

"I guess that explains why I felt such a strong urge to talk to you." I felt my lips curving upward, stopping them for a second. "I hope you know this doesn't fix me. I'm still gonna be a big bag of sadness even with a soulmate."

"I'll never want to fix you. Only make you happy."

"Okay, so my soulmate is a sap," I teased with a grin. I watched as he settled from his laughter, suddenly leaning forward to capture his lips in mine. His arms tightened around me as the kiss deepened, the burning in my eyes quickly traveling through to the rest of my body before shifting into a comforting warmth. I pulled away from him with a hum, opening my eyes to meet his again.

"I feel...better."

"Better now or better in general?" he questioned with a small crease between his brows.

I let out a soft laugh, removing myself from his grasp and latching onto one of his hands instead. I led him away from the bridge, keeping my gaze forward as I pulled him farther from where I came from and back in his direction.

"I don't know yet. We'll just have to wait."

"For how long?"

"Forever."

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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gayroman · 4 years

Text

sometimes, i feel yellow

jjpope fanfiction. angst/fluff. second/first pov. pope centric, jj backstory. taglist: @dreamypope @pope-obx @drspock @playitaagain @bipopeheyward @ronnieweasley @pluto-the-planet1 @shipperssafehaven @jjbaymank (let me know if you want to be added!)

You are on a swing. The world is pushing against you. You are becoming one with the sky, your bones falling to the ground.

This is what what dying feels like. It feels good for a moment, all high and light, then, you swing back down and hit rocks. Everything shatters. Your feet crumple first, the your legs and suddenly your body folds into nothing.

You get back on the swing. You know nothing but infinity. It starts again.

For a moment, you can smell your mother's cooking and you forget you don't have a mother.

There is a hole in your body bandaids cannot fix. You are only a boy, so empty, so drained and filled with nothing. Everything echos inside you and you can't figure how you got so hollow.

Calloused hands, sleep deprived eyes, aching stomachs. This is not living.

It always feels like its about to rain but it never does.

Your lips are chewed raw and there is blood under your nails.

Sometimes you feel a little whole but mostly, it feels broken.

Snapped twigs abandoned on sandy shorelines and gravel paths with entrances marked with war aged trees.

A camera is smashed into the pavement, no more memories.

Everything is licked by fire. The flames don't go out.

You are on a swing. The world is forcing you into the blank sky. Your skin melts and your skeleton is left out to dry.

Everyone has a silhouette. Not you. You leave no mark. You are nothing, as they say.

You can see your childhood home in the distance, behind the garden, close enough to touch but leaning away from you. It does not want you no matter how much you want it.

Your fingers are sticky and for a moment you can't figure out why until you remember you are scratching your skin until your body is covered in blood. Small wounds let out waterfalls.

You can't get off the swing. Your teeth hurt from gum you don't remember chewing. Your mouth tastes like dry clementines and medicine and ash.

The swings stretch for miles but there is only you. (You are utterly alone.) For a second, you wonder whether you can move to another swing. (You stay put, don't bother trying. Maybe next time, when the sky is lighter.)

The air smells like round pasta and tear drenched line paper. Smiles across the skies and mountains that groan in the mornings.

You tumble off the swing, into the wet dirt. You get back up. You start again.

All you know is infinity.

---

JJ smiles when it’s just us. All happy, too sweet to ignore.

I feel so slow. Everything feels so slow. Neil is trying. He is smiling, talking more than he always does, making sure I’m not hungry, not cold.

No, I’m okay. I’m fine. It’s alright. Don’t worry about me.

He is trying too hard. He is doing what he thinks I want. I don’t want that. I want him.

He doesn’t understand. I want to love all of him. All the pieces he loves, all the pieces he hates so much he locks them away. Those pieces deserve love too.

Sometimes I feel yellow.

I am standing in the kitchen, hands on the counter, staring out the window at the sky.

Thick soupy yellows and watery ones that spread far across every little thing. Corns and suns and sand at the bottom of the ocean. Nail polish and wide skirt dresses and pens and cereal your mother buys.

The oven is beeping. JJ shuts it off.

He comes in and stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, puts his head on my shoulder. I can feel every breath he breathes out, every sigh. He fits perfectly into me.

I don’t know why I feel this way, nobody else does. JJ doesn’t ask why.

He is making me see stars.

Him. Him. Him.

I wanted him to be angry at me for feeling like this. His calm was angry. I wanted JJ to shout, hate me a little in his soul. This was JJ. Only angry sometimes, never at me.

He kissed the palms of my hands and held them tight.

"Its okay," he says. "To be upset."

I hate this feeling that's inside me. I hate his calm.

My body slumps and I fall into JJ. My cheeks are all hot. The room is too hot. He doesn't try and kiss me but I wish he would. He tells me to breath instead.

One two three. One in one out. Again again again.

JJ cares. Its strange to think how someone like JJ, drowned in loss and broken things, can try again just to love me. Hold me tighter tighter tighter, trying. (That's the wonder of it, isn't it? He tries.)

He is fixing my broken pieces.

---

There are three freckles on his hip bone. Three small boats in an ocean of skin. I kiss them all.

He traces over the crescent scar on my back. JJ is all fuzzy around the edges, cheeks flushed from the wine we shared. He gets like this, all soft and lazy, tired, eyes barely open, mouth slightly closed. I kiss all the giggles off his mouth.

"Where did you get this," he asks.

"My grandfather's stupid fucking dog," I say. He laughs.

Love is not all knowing. It tries to be. It is all naked, trying to understand all the mysteries under skin and veins.

There's a scar on his wrist. I don't want to know where it's from

(Before, when I couldn't sleep, I would stare up at the ceiling, out the window, go downstairs and listen to the kitchen shake. Now, I can turn into JJ and let him hold me. Love has made me soft.)

I cannot sleep.

"What's this," I ask JJ, pointing to the almost round scar on his cheek. Its impossibly small but I'm surprised I never noticed it. There's one by his ear too, that I didn't see before this.

JJ smells like sunken ships devoured by waves and clean bed sheets. (This is my favorite smell.) There's dirt under his nails. There's a lake in his eyes.

JJ smiles all sad, like rain, shrugs the best he can. That's all I get.

Everything feels like a secret.

"Can I show you something?" JJ asks. I nod. I wasn't sleeping anyways.

He pulls me out of bed. He's wearing my sweater.

---

Everything is covered in goosebumps.

In the clearing of trees behind the house, there is three gravestones, one brand new, the others crumbling with time. The crack in the forest opens up to new winds. I shiver. This feels like an unhealed wound, glowing red, on cold skin.

There's a tombstone for someone named Molly. Aged eleven.

JJ says nothing. I turn to the other grave. The leaves crack under my shoes.

"My father died after Molly did. He had been dying a long time but she finished him off." No sadness in his voice. I can taste the spice from dinner on my lips and wonder, only for a second, if JJ can too.

"My mother died just after I met you." I can't figure out why he's telling me this, especially now, when I am trying to find sleep. The urge to vomit bubbles in my throat, I fight it back down into my stomach. He grabs my hand and I grib it tight. I wish I had a coat.

We stand there. I turn, kiss him. I can taste the wind in his mouth.

---

I dream. I do not want to.

Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?

There's a cake on the table, perfectly decorated. I sit down, take a bite. The icing cracks and the floor breaks.

I need to grab something. There is nothing. Something creaks, I don't know what. The sky is black, the dirt is orange. I vomit. Flowers sprout.

There is no JJ, only the jacket he likes. I put it on. I am warm. The ground steadies, just a little. My head stops spinning.

Running. I am running from something.

I stop. There is nothing behind me.

A girl is sitting by the pool. Long hair the color of the stars, her dress dipping into the ground. She smells like cherry ice pops and watermelon juice. She smiles. Her voice sounds like thunder.

"Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?"

I can see the freckles in his hip, the three little boats.

In his eyes, I think.

---

I wake up.

I remember, when I first moved in, I did not love him because I did not know him. I loved what he did for me, the risk he took by letting me in, letting me stay. We fell into routine. He made dinner on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I made dinner Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We went out on Saturday and ordered in whenever we felt lazy. I did laundry at the end of the week and he did his smack dab in the middle. His clothing mixed into mine and we did it all in one load. He let me pick whichever room I wanted and stay up as late as I wanted and drive the car, all I had to do was ask.

Everything finally felt good.

We mixed well together.

I remember when he took me out, finally, after waiting for so long.

Halfway through dinner, JJ had spoken up.

“Would you like to go on a date?”

There’s a bruise on his cheek, a brown flower, that wasn’t there last night.

Dinner is soup. My turn. I didn’t go out to get another and there wasn’t much in the kitchen. We needed to go grocery shopping.

“With you?” He nodded. I stuttered. “Sure, where?”

JJ had shrugged “I can figure something out,” he said “Unless you have an idea.” I shook my head. I’ve only been on one or two dates. I don’t know what people like to do.

I didn't say anything else. He said: “Are you free tonight?” I can only nod. This whole interaction is so odd. It’s not the kind of thing I would ever expect from JJ, or anyone else.

I lied. I’ve never been on any dates.

JJ smiled at me then, a real one. A rare occurrence, but always a welcome one.

I don’t want to spend the rest of dinner in silence so I say: “We need groceries.” JJ nodded.

“Anything specific?” He asked.

“Well, I had a few ideas for my days, and then whatever you want.”

Jesus Christ. So domestic, like a married couple that still loves each other. “Make sure to get two loaves of bread. We eat them too quickly.” He smiled. I offered a half lipped smile back, not reaching my eyes, though I pray he doesn’t notice.

He goes off, talking about a book, something that happened, I can’t tell. He laughs and I join in, only half alert of the story he’s telling. He throws up his arms to gesture to something and I nod. He feels so alive.

I had never wanted to be loved by anyone more.

We're disasters, him and I.

---

I go back to sleep. I dream. There is a corn maze.

---

I walk to the maze, take a deep breath and step inside.

Every outside sound disappears. I can only hear the plants moving in the wind and the sound of my own breath. The wind feels a little colder and something clicks in my head. It’s an ocean of calm, the fields grown high enough to frame the sky. It’s just you and heaven. Alone.

(I don’t like alone. But I like this.)

This is not fall. This is winter in an orange coat. Autumn is thick with family. Winter takes the long path home, all alone. Everything smells like dirt.

Everything everything everything. This is the only word I know.

Go home, the wind is saying. What is home. Is it JJ or is it with Mom? Is it the town? Does it not exist?

I go home. Wherever that is.

---

It's morning. All I can think of is Molly. Why he never mentioned it, and why then.

JJ smiles. He is made of secrets.

He is homes and I am drowning in his eyes.

#obx #jjpope #mayward #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank #mayward fanfic #mayward fanfiction #jjpope fanfiction #jjpope fanfic #charlie writes #my writing #this is shit im sorry #i wrote this while sitting in traffic for three hours enjoy

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thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild · 3 years

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Writing Tips (Pt. 3): Writing Believable and shippable relationships in literature.

Hello friends! First of all, let me say a HUGE thank you for the support on the Kataang post! I worked really hard on it and it means so much to me all the little notes you give it and reblog it! I know it’s not at a huge number of notes, but I like knowing that people took time to read through the endless rant and reblog it! I’m planning on doing another full analysis on Zutara and why specifically it doesn’t work. I’ll make it respectful though as I know that a lot of Kataang fans are REALLY defensive and anti-zutara. I promise I’m not one of those people, and believe that no matter who you ship, your opinions on fictional characters are your opinions and you are FULLY entitled to ship and like whatever you want (as long as it’s not incest or a huge age gap. PLEASE don’t ship that stuff lol. U nasty mfs know who u are.) Speaking of ships, let’s talk about writing them. Writing ships for movies, books, shows, etc. can be surprisingly hard. Writing characters themselves can be hard enough as it is, but writing a pair of characters that fit together like a puzzle piece can feel impossible. Nevertheless, I’m here to make that process a little bit easier. When I’m trying to set up a relationship that’s going to happen, here are some things that I keep in mind to make sure that I and the audience of my writing ship the characters I have end up together.

DISCLAIMER before I get a’rantin: I am by NO means telling you how or what to write and am by NO means a professional writer of any sorts. I’m doing this mostly because I write a lot and speak from my own personal experiences with writing and because these are just the things that I found work best when writing my own stories. I also read and analyze a lot of others work on my own personal time, and these are just the details that I pick up on that I find makes a piece of writing effective. With that in mind, remember that writing is and art form, and the beauty of that is that there’s no one right way to do it. Ever. You can read the same thing as another person and interpret it in a completely different and unique way.

1. Complementary Characters usually work out best.

This is more than the classic “opposite’s attract” theory, and characters don’t necessarily have to be opposite to be complementary. Some things to think about when thinking of and writing complementary characters:

-Complementary doesn’t necessarily mean complete opposite in every single way. Often times I find it much more helpful to have characters share a common interest in hobbies, upbringing, childhood trauma (that one’s a bit overdone these days), etc. so that they’re not butting heads all the time. Just like yin and yang, theres a bit of darkness in the light and vice versa. To keep the balance harmonious, you can’t have characters be polar opposites and have no common ground. That leads to what many people consider a toxic ship, and will either lead to an unrealistic balance that inevitably leads your characters to be fighting all the time.

-Keeping common interests in mind, often times the paces where character’s contrast is in their personalities. (Shy and bold, heart and head, bubbly and brooding, quiet and gregarious, etc.) Different personalities often are able to balance each other out and hold each other accountable for their weaknesses.

-Going off of that, one character’s strength is another’s weakness, and all traits are both. A character’s empathy can lead them to be loved by many, but may cause them to starve themselves and drain their cup so there’s none left to take care of themselves. A character’s logic may lend them top of class or calm in stressful situations, but can lead them to be insensitive to others and even their own emotions. Your characters should balance each other out and work well together, and part of this is helping each other grow from their weakness.

-This one isn't as important, but what I also find super compelling, especially in film and tv shows is when the authors/writers deliberately choose to give the characters complementary color palettes. (I dove more into this on my Kataang analysis so go read that if you’re super interested.) If the character’s look ascetically pleasing together, it makes shipping them a whole lot easier. Focus on orange and blue, yellow and purple, red and green, and any variation of those colors together.

2. Buildup

Often times one of the biggest critiques of ships that just don’t work out is that there’s not enough buildup or foundation to have a romantic relationship. It seems obvious, but if you’re going to have them end up together, there’s going to need to be some buildup or else the entire relationship will feel wrong and contrived no matter how pleasant you make it.

Some tips for increasing and establishing buildup:

-Have your otp spend time together as friends first. I personally find that the healthiest and most successful ships are friends before they’re lovers. This is why Kataang specifically works so well, but Korrasami, Romionie, and Liesel and Rudy from the Book Thief are all good examples. If you observe these ships, all of these characters spend time together as friends first. Korra and Asami were able to bond and become friends over a toxic guy (cough cough MAKO) and eventually developed feelings for one another. Ron and Hermione weren’t romantically interested in other people and were friends until they started seeing other people and found out they liked each other. Liesel and Rudy were best friends before anything else and Liesel didn’t realize her feelings until it was too late.

-Time together. When your otp spends time together, make sure that whatever time is being spent together is time that they both enjoy. No, the activity itself doesn’t have to be enjoyable to both characters, but the time spent together should be. If the characters really aren’t enjoying the time spent together, then it’s never gonna work out. I’ll use the ship that I’m writing as an example. Currently, I’m in the process of writing a third atlas series and we’ll use my characters Liang and Hana. (Yea I used my own name for one of my characters. I think it suits her bc she’s basically my clone, just, she’s the avatar. I’m going to change both of their names once I do more research and can find culturally and historically accurate names.) Liang REALLY loves pro-bending matches. Hana, not so much. She still goes with him to see matches and attends his matches when she can. On the flip side, Hana really loves going to her favorite tea shop. Liang vastly prefers a strong cup of coffee, but he goes with her anyways. Why would they choose to do something that they don’t necessarily like? Because that’s more quality time spent with each other and doing something for the other person.

3. Romantic Gestures

Going off of my last point, we have the art of romantic gestures. These can range to things anywhere from a hug, to an elaborate firework display, to a locket with both of their pictures in it. Make sure that the romantic gestures are there! It’s gotta be clear that both characters are thinking about one another and consciously choose to do something for the other person. Here are some fun ways to do it:

-Remembering a gift the other character wanted. This one’s cliche but it works, because often times the best way to show affection is through physical gifts and objects. Think coffee from a favorite shop, handwritten notes, that piece of clothing the other has been eyeing, etc.

-~symbolism~ *add chime here* By that I mean have an object to symbolize their relationship with, like Korrasami’s iconic hair pin or Liesel’s book that Rudy retrieved for her. This way, the readers not only have a visual representation of their favorite ships, but the object can physically link characters together and make a vague relationship full cannon. (I know for sure that someday when I get a tattoo, I want the hairpin tattooed on my wrist, ankle or side of my body.)

-PDAs. Works best in film and visual stuff, but still applies for everything. I’m talking cuddles, kisses, falling asleep in each other’s arms, the whole shebang. I mean how much clearer can you make it than a pda?

-Love languages. Each person loves in their own unique way. Have characters figure out and learn each other’s love language. It really shows and adds a whole other layer to the cake. This one can make a ship that feels a little bland have more depth and realism, because in the real world, healthy relationships are formed and aided by learning and applying each other’s love language.

4. Dialogue. This one can be hard to master, but once you do, it’s a breeze. First off, I recommend getting all your ideas out, and editing. DON’T EDIT AS YOU GO! This is often tedious and super annoying, so get everything out first, and go from there once you have a decent amount to work with. Dialogue is tricky, because dialogue in and of itself is meant to communicate and express feelings. Here are some tips and steps to at least get a start:

a. Know EXACTLY how your characters feel about one another, and make that evident through communication. It seems obvious (again) but this really helps and I find that putting myself in the character’s shoes for a second and really thinking about it helps to decide exactly what they would say in a given situation, especially if the scene you’re writing involves confrontation about feelings for one another.

b. Dialogue is more than just talking. Body language, tone, facial expressions, etc. are all part of dialogue too and are SUPER important! In the real world, humans communicate through more than just words, and sometimes a playful grin, grimace, crossed arms, or pout is much more effective than a character outright saying something.

c. Once you’ve written the dialogue out, be concise and smart about your dialogue and pare it down as much as you can. Often times, adding too much dialogue can make a scene boring and flat. Use your words sparingly! The purpose of writing is to covey a story or message and often times this can be done effectively with less words rather than more. The main point in dialogue itself is to provide necessary context and information. Otherwise, don’t use it.

d. Make sure the conversation is two sided. This (say it with me now) SEEMS OBVIOUS, but make sure that both people are talking/communicating. it’s a conversation, not a speech. (Unless it is a speech or declaration of some sort.)

Before I go: A QUICK (Long) PSA ON TOXIC SHIPS:

The concept of a toxic ship is very common in a lot of literature. Often times writers choose to include elements that may be toxic to heighten romantic tension in a story. While I do recognize that this sometimes may be a stylistic choice, there are MUCH better and effective ways to create tension that having something be toxic. Toxic relationships in my opinion share one purpose, and that is to establish a relationship’s toxicity and ineffectiveness. I don’t recommend writing these into a story unless it’s an obstacle for your characters to overcome, and having a character forgive the toxic actions of another character and still end up with them isn’t the right move because it completely disregards and diminishes the effects of what happened previously.

One of the best examples I can think of is Reylo from the new sw trilogy. I did touch on this briefly in a couple of my earlier posts (The Effect Of Modern Day SW characters and My Tips for Writing (In General) which I highly suggest you go read bc they both took me a bit of time and state the purpose more in depth) but I think I’ll quick reiterate and say that it wasn’t a good choice on the writer’s part to have some of the dialogue be so intense and vicious and then have them end up together. I still like the idea of Ben Solo and Rey together and ship them together out of cannon, but in cannon, it’s the perfect example of an ineffective ship. There was little to no build up, the dialogue was often spiteful and sharp, and it escalated a bit too quickly. I would’ve liked to see more of Ben Solo (NOT Kylo) and him feeling sorry for and repenting for the bad that he’s done before he and Rey end up together. Yes, we’re all suckers for the enemies to lovers trope, but PLEASE make sure to filter out the toxins before boarding your ships and watching them sail.

That’s it for now! I hope this helps a little when writing shippable characters! I’m always free to rant to and to critique. I’m going to start posting as much as I can, because these guides help me too! Check out my other ones if you’d like to know tips for writing in general and I made another one on how to write characters.

#writing #writing tips #writing tingz

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