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velvetm00light · 2 years ago

Text

Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n's dog tackles a handsome stranger in Central Park. As her and the stranger spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, they part too soon and without even telling each other their names. The solution appears quickly in the form of a handsome, lanky man appearing at her apartment the next morning.

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: I accidentally posted this on my primary that I don't use a few days ago so I decided to just reupload it here. Thought ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

THE GOLDEN LEAVES RUSTLED along the cracked sidewalk, towering mixtures of trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching for each other, the Creation of Adam painting itself in the nature around her. Her charcoal boots thudded lightly, the sound overtaken by the rush of bicycles and the flutter of passing conversations as she strolled through Central Park. The leash in her hand was rough against her soft palms. The dog at her side trotted happily, smiling at the strangers rushing past.

As a native to New York, the city specifically, she made a habit of spending most of the daylight she could spare exploring the park. A habit that proved almost impossible to break because no matter how many times her feet walked the same sidewalk, her eyes took in the same leaves in all seasons - lush green in the spring and summer, amber and fiery red in the autumn, and withered and crunchy spread across the sidewalks and grass in the winter - there was no where else she could truly feel peace.

Peace has been a complicated thing to find her entire life. As soon as she felt it in her grasp, it became sand slipping through the cracks between her fingers before she could even close her fist in an attempt to capture as much as she could. But, that sand turned into the soft wool of her favorite coat as she pulled it tighter around her in an attempt to warm herself. Peace became tangible the moment she threw her coat on, strapped on her pup’s harness, and made her way to her safe place.

She was snapped out her thoughts by a sudden yank on her arm, the soft grip on the leash in her hand gave way before she could consider tightening her hand. Her gaze snapped to her now sprinting pup, heading in the direction of a red maple tree just a few yards to the right of the trail they had been walking. She didn’t allow herself time for confusion on why her normally calm and behaved pup had randomly chosen to run off.

Her lungs burned as cold air pressed into her lungs as she ran in the same direction. Her confusion only grew when she neared the maple to see her dog bouncing onto a man sitting against the trunk of the tree, a thick blanket underneath him and the book in his hands flung into the grass. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called, slowing her speed as she reached the poor man who was just tackled by her dog. “He’s never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

She grabbed his book from the dewy grass and laid it on the blanket next to him. “I’m so sorry about your book, it got kind of wet. I’ll give you the money for it,” she apologized, reaching into the pack strapped across her chest to rummage for any loose cash.

“Don’t worry about it, my books are definitely worse for wear normally.” His smile was bright, contagious. A smile crept up on her face, the corners of her lips tugging insistently upward as her hands abandoned her pack.

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

The cover of the book she had laid on his blanket was in fact worse for wear. It was curled up at the edges as if this wasn’t the first time it had gotten wet. The spine was so cracked the book almost splayed open just laying on the blanket, the wind a gentle hand trying to pull it fully open.

“I’m glad someone else’s copy of The Fisher King looks similar to mine.” She smiled, her eyes lingering on the blemished book then to his face. Her dog had finally calmed down, splayed next to the stranger with his belly up. He ran slender fingers up and down her pup’s belly.

The first thing that caught her eye was his eyes. There was a flaming halo of amber, with a dirty, leather brown inside. His eyes reminded him of an old leather book - worn with love, pen marks torn through the pages with passion. The sweater vest he was wearing and the circular glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose established her thought - he just looked like he belonged in a library, reaching for outdated texts, sitting in a poorly lit corner, stacks of books hiding his bowed head from view as he endlessly read books upon books for hours.

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

“I personally like Shadowlands better,” she teased. It wasn’t a lie, however. She had always been a sucker for romances - it certainly raised her standards unrealistically, but it’s not her fault fictional men are so much better than real ones. “And you can never go wrong with Les Misérables but it feels cliché to say that’s my favorite.”

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I don’t mind at all, have a seat.” He pulled his legs up, sitting cross legged instead of stretched out like he had been. She copied his posture as she plopped down on the blanket with him and her attention whore of a dog - understandably, because if she had seen him first, she might’ve just ran over and demanded he touch her too.

“Who’s your favorite author?” She asked, placing her elbow ontop of her knee and resting her chin in her hand. She titled her head to the side, and his smile returned slightly at the image of her - innocent and sweet.

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“Love is our true destiny,” she began. His eyes sparkled as he joined in on her recitement from Love and Living. “We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“Your words, not mine.” She smiled back, it was impossible not to smile back at him. She felt like the only person in the entire world when he smiled at her, like she was truly the only thing that mattered. A heat bloomed in her neck and rose into her wind-kissed cheeks. She hoped the cold prick of the wind rubbing her cheeks raw hid the redness heating her face.

Their conversation about literature continued, both of them talking animatedly and rushed, as if the amount of time they had with each other would never be enough. It was a shocking revelation for them both to realize how much in common they had and how effortlessly the conversation between them flowed, like they weren’t really strangers at all.

The sun had begun to set, laying over the horizon as if slowing it’s own process down to give them just a little bit longer. The chill had picked up as the sunlight turned into dusk but neither of them really noticed until the park was empty and hungry whines escaped her dog.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

The stranger gathered his blanket and his book, shoving both in between his arm, following her lead out of the park and towards her apartment. Her teeth chattered so harshly it rattled her skull. The sun had set, becoming impatient waiting for them to finally part.

Without a word, the man her dog had jumped on just a few hours ago unwrapped the blanket from under his arm and laid it across her shoulders. “It might be a little dirty but I put the upside on you.”

“Thank you, my jacket has seen better days anyway,” she smiled, pulling the thick wool around her, engulfing her like a hug. She sighed of relief at the warmth it provided her chilled bones. They walked in easy silence, sneaking occasional glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

“Mostly. I grew up just outside of the city but it’s close enough. You don’t look like you grew up in the city,” she teased. Her dog trotting beside her sleepily but eager to get home for dinner. Her grumbling stomach agreed with her dog’s eagerness.

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. His laugh was just like his smile - infectious. If he laughed, anyone around him wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from laughing along even if nothing was funny. When he laughed hard, his eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back slightly. When he laughed lightly, he had small wrinkles at the side of his eyes, and he always had that toothy grin. It startled her to realize that in the few hours she knew him, she already knew this much about his mannerisms.

Too soon, they reached her apartment building’s door. She fished out her keys from her pack, her pup pushing his head up to the door, ready to kick it down if he had human legs. “Thank you so much again for walking me home. I hope you’re not too far, it’s pretty dark out now.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

She plopped onto the couch in her cramped living room and let out a sigh she had no idea she was holding in. Then the realization hit her, she didn’t even ask for his name or how to contact him. She groaned. Of course she would be stupid enough to let the only guy she’s had a connection with in years slip through her fingers.

The rising sun shone through her living room curtains, spilling like honey over her face. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion fogging her brain for a moment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch though she wasn’t sure when she even fell asleep. A book laid open, splayed on the hardwood floor next to her couch. This is a familiar scene she sees way more often than she’s willing to admit. There’s no greater way to relax than to read a good book in ambient lighting. It had started raining shortly after she got home last night, the hard patters of rain drops hitting her window. That was enough to cause her to pass out before even finishing a chapter.

She was abruptly snapped out of her daze as her intercom buzzed. Her confusion deepened, completely unsure if she was expecting anyone this morning or if she had overslept and missed a meeting. When the second buzz rang through her apartment, she rushed over to answer it. “Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, I’m sorry uh..I’m the guy your dog tackled in the park yesterday.” If she could see his face, she’s pretty sure he’d have a nervous smile on it. His hand running anxiously through his curls, hoping he buzzed the right apartment and desperately hoping she didn’t feel uncomfortable at him showing up.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in quickly and realized the state she was in. She rapidly ran her fingers through her knotted hair, combing through as many knots as she could in the time it took him to reach her front door. She straightened her clothes, the same ones she had gone to the park in minus the coat hanging by her front door. She rushed over to pick up the book from the floor, setting it gently on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

A soft knock rattled her front door and she rushed over to it, fixing her hair and clothes again before pulling it open. “Hi,” she breathed, her chest suddenly too tight. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, he was the one who showed up to her apartment.

“Hi,” he responded, a sheepish smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, as if to keep himself from fidgeting in front of her, a feign of confidence. “Sorry for showing up randomly.” He finished quickly, realizing she was waiting for him to explain himself.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s actually the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she smiled, gazing around her apartment with him. She had a variety of plants scattered around her apartment - large potted plants that reached toward the ceiling in the corners, small plants in decorated pots lining shelves, settled on her coffee table, and even in her kitchen. She always assumed having fresh air to combat the natural stench of New York City was never a bad idea. She had posters and picture frames hung up with precision, decorative throw pillows scattered on her couch from a night tossing and turning, bookshelves filled to the brim with books, plants, and trinkets.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Perfect.” She rummaged through her cabinets in search for tea, it would be slightly embarrassing to have run out of tea bags after she already asked if he wanted tea. Thankfully, she found a few loose boxes of tea and made steaming cups for them both.

She carried the tea out carefully so as to not burn herself or spill any on the floor beneath her bare feet. She gently handed him his cup which he gratefully took and cupped between two palms, waiting for it to cool.

She settled in the seat next to him on the couch, copying his actions and cupping the warm cup between her hands. Her apartment luckily didn’t feel like the outside world with the biting wind and the bone-chilling cold, but, this man’s presence was enough to send a shiver rattling down her spine and goosebumps rising along her flesh.

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

“Of course, I’m sure any normal host would offer tea, it felt like the socially acceptable thing to do.” She gave him a small smile back, just enough to lift the edges of her lips upward, but not enough to bare her teeth.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound reverberated around her apartment. Her mind betrayed her and thoughts of that laugh just swimming around her apartment on a regular basis caused an ache in her chest. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment in probably years, most likely for the best.

Her work was her life, she had the terrible habit of drowning in her work when life got rough, or when her feelings got inevitably hurt. She almost wanted to kick this gorgeous man out of her apartment before he could hurt her feelings or disappoint her like the rest.

“I’m sorry for showing up randomly,” he started, rubbing his sweaty palms across the legs of his jeans. “I never got your name or your contact information so I hope I’m not crossing any lines by coming by.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

She nodded slowly - she knew exactly what he meant. She had thought the same thing as she sat on her couch just hours ago, turning the events of their meeting over and over again in head, as if it was a coin in her hand.

“It was just…easy. Peaceful.” He smiled sheepishly. She relaxed into the couch. Peace. It was all she ever wanted in life and she tried tirelessly to keep control of it, to stuff it in a cage and keep it locked up so she could never feel its absence again. With him sitting in her apartment in front of her, she felt like she didn’t even have to try to reach out and grab it, it ran into her arms like a friend.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

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monstersandmaw · 2 years ago

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I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

#werewolf farmer #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley fic #rowan the werewolf #farmer rowan #ask me anything #wip

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layce2015 · 2 years ago

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

I Believe The Children Are Our Future

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

"Agents Page, Lee and Plant, FBI." I introduced to the doctor as the boys and I show him our badges. "Gentlemen and lady. What brings you by?" the doctor asked us. "We need to see Amber Freer's body." Sam said. "Really? What for?" the doctor asked us. "The police report said something clawed through her skull?" Dean said, questioning. "You didn't read the autopsy report that I emailed out this morning?" The Doctor asked us, catching us off guard.

"W-we had, uh, server issues." I said and the doctor walks away, we follow him.

The doctor opens one of the freezers and pulls out the slab with Amber's body. He tosses back the sheet from her head. "When they brought her in, we thought she was attacked by a wolf or something." He explain. "Or something." I said, raising an eyebrow. "But we were wrong." the doctors said and he picks up a plastic bag from the slab and shows it to us.

"Is that a—" Sam said and the Doctor nods. "It's a press-on nail. We found it in her temporal lobe." he said. "Is that even possible?" I asked him. "Wait, are you—you saying that she did this to herself?" Dean asked the Doctor. "Uh-huh. She scratched her brains out. It'd take hours, and it'd hurt like hell, but sure—it's possible." The Doctor said.

"How?" Dean asked. "Pick your acronym—OCD, PCP. It all spells crazy." the doctor said as Sam pulls back the sheet a little further. Amber's right hand has four press-on nails still attached; the middle finger has nothing. "My guess, some kind of phantom itch. I mean, an extreme case, but..." The Doctor said. "Phantom itch?" Sam asked. "Yup." the Doctor said and he covers Amber's head and slides the slab back into the freezer, closing the door.

"All it takes is someone talking about an itch—or thinking about one, even—and suddenly you can't stop scratching." he said and I nod. "Thanks, doc." I said as Sam scratches under his collar, Dean scratches his ear and I scratch the back of my head.

Later, we were in Jimmy's house and Sam was sitting in the armchair in the living room, holding a notebook and pen, and Jimmy's father and Francine are sitting on the sofa. Dean and I wander around behind them. "Okay. Okay, now, some of these questions might seem a bit odd, but please just bear with me. Have you noticed any cold spots in the house?" Sam asked them. "Uh...no." Jimmy's dad said, a look of confusion on his face.

"Okay, uh, what about strange smells?" Sam asked as Dena and I look around the corner to see Jimmy. "Whatcha lookin' for?" he asked us. "Don't know yet." Dean said as I walk up to Jimmy. "It's, uh, Jimmy, right?" I asked and he nods.

"So, Amber was your babysitter?" I asked him. "Yes, ma'am." He said. "Yeah, most of my babysitters sucked. Especially Ms. Chancey. She only cared about two things. Dynasty and bedtime." Dean said before he chuckles and I roll my eyes.

"Did you, uh, you see anything strange that night?" I asked Jimmy. "No, ma'am." Jimmy said. "You sure about that?" Dean asked. "I—I would tell you if I knew something." he said and Dean and I look at the kid. "I promise. One hundred percent. Cross my heart." Jimmy said and Dean looks back over his shoulder, then back at Jimmy.

"Well, Jimmy, I, uh...I happen to know you're lying." Dean said to him and Jimmy looks a bit terrified. "I'm not." Jimmy said and Dean leans down and puts a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "We gonna start talking truth, or are you and me gonna have to take a little trip downtown?" Dean asked him and Jimmy gives us, wide eyes.

Later, the boys and I were leaving when Dean holds up a packet of itching powder. "Kid said he put this on the babysitter's hairbrush." Dean said to Sam. "Dean, there's no way itching powder made that girl scratch her brains out. It's just ground-up maple seeds." Sam said. "If you have any other theories, we're open to 'em." I said as a cell phone rings.

Sam pulls his out and answers it while Dean opens the back driver side door of the Impala for me. "Aw, such a gentleman." I said to him as I climb in and Dean smiles then shuts the door and gets into the driver's seat. "Yeah? ...Yeah, we'll be right there." Sam said as he goes around the car.

Back at the hospital, a nurse zips up a body bag and he and another nurse roll it out of the room while the Doctor watches from the corridor as we come up behind him. "What happened?" Sam asked him. "Guy got electrocuted." the doctor replied as he turns to us.

"Any idea how?" Dean asked. "Eh, maybe a loose wire or a piece of equipment shorted out. So far, we haven't found anything." the doctor said. "Witnesses?" I asked. "Yeah, guy in there—Mr. Stanley." the doctor said as he points to an old man sitting in a chair in the room, looking out the window. "He says he saw it, but he's not making a lick of sense. Senile." the doctor said said. "Thanks." Sam said and we enter the room as the doctor leaves.

"Um, Mr. Stanley?" Sam asked as we walk up to the old man. "It was just a joke. I didn't know it would really work." Stanley said, upset. "What would work?" Dean asked him and Stanley looks at Dean. "All I did was shake his hand." he said and he holds out his hand, showing us that he is holding a joy buzzer.

At the motel, Dean puts on a pair of goggles and a pair of gloves, then adjusts the goggles and picks up the joy buzzer. He looks at the joy buzzer for a moment, then turns to me and Sam. "You ready?" Dean asked us. "Hit it, Mr. Wizard." I said as Sam and I hold another pair of goggles to our eyes.

There is a large uncooked ham in two stacked aluminum-foil pans sitting on the table in front of Dean. Dean holds the joy buzzer over the ham, hesitates, and presses it to the ham. Electricity crackles and steam rises from the ham as it changes color.

When the ham is blackened, Dean removes the joy buzzer and the ham sizzles. Sam and I lower the goggles and gawk as Dean flips up the dark-plastic visor on the goggles. "That'll do, pig." he mutters. "What the hell?" Sam said, shocked.

Dean takes off the goggles, still staring at the now-cooked ham. "That crap isn't supposed to work." I said. "This thing doesn't even have batteries." Dean said as he takes off one glove and removes the other.

"So...so, what? Are—are we looking at cursed objects?" I asked. "Sounds good." Dean said as he pulls out a knife, flips it open, and cuts a piece off the ham. "Maybe there's a powerful witch in town." he said and he eats the piece of ham. "Is there any link between the, uh, the joy buzzer and the itching powder?" he asked us as I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, one was made in China, the other Mexico, but they were both bought from the same store." Sam said as Dean cuts off another piece of ham. "Hmm." Dean hums then he holds up the piece of ham. Sam and I shake our heads and Dean proceeds to eat the ham.

We enter a joke shop and the door chimes as we walk in. Someone laughs and the door chimes again as we walk around. "Guys!" Dean said as he picks up a whoopee cushion and holds it up, grinning. Sam sighs and shakes his head, turning away. "You are such a child." I said to Dean as he goes and brings the whoopee cushion up to the checkout counter, which has a display of rubber chickens next to it.

Then an older gentleman comes out of the back room. "Welcome to the Conjurarium, sanctum of magic and mystery." he said as Sam and I come up to the counter. "You the owner?" Sam asked him. "Yep." the man said. "You sold any itching powder or joy buzzers lately?" Dean asked him. "Yeah, a grand total of one of each. They aren't exactly big-ticket items. Look, you three here to buy something or what?" the owner asked us.

Dean pulls some cash out of his wallet, holds up the whoopee cushion, and hands the owner the cash. "So, you get many customers?" I asked him. "Kids come in. They don't buy much, but they're more than happy to break stuff. These days, all they care about are their iPhones and those kissing-vampire movies. The whole thing makes me just—" the owner said then Dean finishes his sentence. "Angry?" he asked.

The Owner pauses, then nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I am angry. This shop has been my life for twenty years, and now it's wasting away to nothing." he said. "Which is why you hate them." Dean said. "I suppose." The owner said, shrugging. "You wish there was something you could do about it." Dean said. "Yeah, I guess I do." the owner said.

"So you're taking revenge." Dean accuses as he pulls a rubber chicken off the display and slaps it down on the counter. "With this." he said and he holds up the joy buzzer and presses it to the rubber chicken, electricity crackles. The Owner yelps and leaps back. "Oh! No!" he screams as the rubber chicken melts.

The owner stares, making inarticulate noises, while the boys and I watch him. "Yeah, something tells me this guy is not a powerful witch." I said. "Sorry. Sorry." Dean said to him and we leave.

The next day, Sam and I leave the hospital room with this man who had his teeth pulled and head to the corridor where Dean was talking to a nurse, who was obviously checking him out.

She leaves as Sam and I approach Dean, who turns to us. "What's up with Toothless? Cavity creeps get ahold of him?" he asked us. "Yeah. Close. He wrote up a description." Sam said and he reads from his notebook. "Five foot ten, three hundred fifty pounds, wings, and a pink tutu. Said it was the tooth fairy." Sam said and Dean narrows his eyes in confusion.

"So he's obviously whacked out on painkillers." He said. "Maybe. Whatever it was got past locked doors and windows without triggering the alarm." I said, shrugging. "Come on. Tooth fairy?" Dean said, disbelieving. "And it left thirty-two quarters underneath his pillow. One for each tooth." Sam said and Dean nods.

"Well, I will see your crazy and raise you some. There's a couple of kids upstairs with stomach ulcers—say they got it from mixing Pop Rocks and Coke. Another guy...his face...froze that way." Dean said. "What way?" I asked. Dean looks in all directions, then pulls out the sides of his mouth and crosses his eyes. He holds it for a moment and lets go.

"He, uh, held it too long, and it—it stuck. They're flying in a plastic surgeon." Dean said as he pokes at his cheeks and wiggles his chin. "So, I mean, if you add all that up..." Sam hesitates and Dean and I raise our eyebrows. "I got nothing." Sam said and he starts down the hallway past Dean, who turns around to walk alongside him, I follow.

"I thought sea-monkeys were real." Dean said. "They are. They're brine shrimp." I said. "No, no, no, I mean like in the ads. You know, like the sea-monkey wife cooks the pot roast for the sea-monkey husband, and the sea-monkey kids play with the dog in a sea-monkey castle—real. I mean, I was six, but I believed it." Dean said. "Okay." Sam said, unsure where Dean was going with this.

"Point is..." Dean said and he stops. Sam and I stop and turn to him. "Maybe that's the connection. The tooth fairy, the Pop Rocks and Coke, the joy buzzer that shocks you—they're all lies that kids believe." Dean said. "And now they're coming true. Okay, so whatever's doing this is—is reshaping reality. It has the powers of a god. Or—" Sam stops and I roll my eyes. "—of a trickster." I added and Sam nods.

"Yeah, with the sense of humor of a nine-year-old." Dean said. "Or you." I add and Sam laughs and we walk off.

Later, Sam and I come into the motel room to see Dean sitting at the table, taking a bit out of a sandwich, obviously made from that ham he cooked. "Dude, seriously—still with the ham?" Sam asked as he holds up the map we found. "We don't have a fridge." Dean replied, through the mouthful of food he had.

"Hey, don't talk with your mouth full." I scolded him as I shut the door and Sam puts the map down in front of Dean. "Well, we found something." Sam said and Dean stands up for a better view. Sam points to a red X on the map for every incident. "Um, tooth fairy attack was here, Pop Rocks and Coke was here, then you've got itching powder, face freeze, and joy buzzer—all located within a two-mile radius." Sam explains as he indicates the area containing all the red X's.

"So, we got a blast zone of weird, and inside, fantasy becomes reality." Dean said. "Looks like." I said, nodding. "And what's the A-bomb at its center?" Dean asked. "Four acres of farmland...and a house." I said and Dean looks between me and Sam.

A mail truck drives past the house and past the Impala, as we pull up and park. The boys and I, wearing suits, get out and cross the street, walking up to the house. Dean checks Ruby's knife, which is tucked into his belt. Sam bends down to pick the lock, but straightens up in a hurry when the door opens, revealing a young boy.

"Can I help you?" He asked us. "Hi. Uh, what's your name?" I asked him. "Who wants to know?" the boy asked, suspiciously, and Dean, Sam and I glance at each other.

"The, uh..." Dean said then he clears his throat and pulls out his badge, showing it to the boy while Sam and I go for our badges. "FBI." Dean said as we hold up our badges. "Let me see that." the boy said as he takes Dean's badge and examines then hands it back.

"So, what, you guys don't knock?" he asked us as Sam and I put our badges away. "Are your parents home?" I asked him. "They work." the boy replied. "Well, you mind if we ask you a few questions, maybe take a look around the house?" Sam asked. "I don't know." the boy said.

"Come on. You can trust us. We're the authorities." Dean said as he holds up his badge again but the boy looked unimpressed. He glances between us as we try to smile reassuringly.

The boy leads us into his house as he goes to the kitchen and turns off the stove, where there was a pot of food boiling. We follow him into the kitchen, looking around. "What's that?" Sam asked, nodding to the pot. "It's called soup." the boy replied as he takes the pot off the stove. "You heat it up and you eat it." he said, sounding like it was obvious, and Sam chuckles.

"Right. I, I know. It's just, um...I used to make my own dinner, too, when I was a kid." Sam said. "Well, I'm not a kid." the boy grumbles as Dean notices the artwork on the fridge.

"Right. No, I, I know. Um..." Sam stammers then he holds out a hand. "I'm Robert, by the way." he introduced and the boys shakes his hand and then I hold mine out. "And I'm Sheila." I said and he takes my hand. "Jesse." the kid said.

"Jesse, nice to meet you." I said as Dean steps closer, holding a picture of a bearded man with pink wings and tutu. "Did you draw this?" he asked and Jesse turns to him and nods. "It's the tooth fairy." he states.

"That's what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?" Dean asked. "Yeah. My dad told me about him." Jesse said and Dean glances at me and Sam. "Huh." Dean huffs. "What, didn't your dad tell you about the tooth fairy?" Jesse asked him. "My dad?" Dean chuckles. "My dad told me different stories." he said. "Well, the tooth fairy isn't a story." Jesse said, firmly.

"What do you know about itching powder, Jesse?" I asked him. "That stuff will make you scratch your brains out." Jesse said. "Pop Rocks and Coke?" Dean asked. "You mix them, and you'll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that." Jesse said then Dean pulls the joy buzzer out of his pocket and holds it up.

"You shouldn't have that." Jesse said. "Why not?" Dean asked. "It can electrocute you." Jesse said. "Actually, it can't. It's just a wind-up toy. It's totally harmless. Doesn't even have batteries." Dean said. "So it can't shock you?" Jesse asked. "Nope. Not at all. I swear." Dean said. "Oh. Okay." Jesse said.

"I mean, all it does is just shake in your hand. It's kind of lame. See?" Dean said and he presses the joy buzzer to Sam's chest. It buzzes and Sam stiffens up and turns to Dean, looking murderous, while I hold back my laughter.

"What did you say your name was, again?" Dean asked Jesse.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam asked Dean as we leave Jesse's house. "I had a hunch. I went with it." Dean said. "You risked my ass on a hunch?" Sam asked him, angrily. "You're fine." Dean said, not worried, and I roll my eyes. "Besides, now we know who's turning this town into Willy Wonka's worst nightmare." I said. "The kid." Sam said and he stops and so does me and Dean.

"Yeah. Everything Jesse believes comes true. He thinks the tooth fairy looks like Belushi, uh, joy buzzers really shock people, boom, that's what happens." Dean said. "Yeah, but convince him the joy buzzers don't actually work, and they go from killing machines back into crap toys." Sam said. "He probably doesn't even know he's doing it." I said and we look back at the house.

The curtains on an upstairs window part and Jesse looks out at us and Dean waves. "How is he doing it?" Dean asked as we walk away.

Back at the motel, I was sitting on a bed, watching TV, while Dean was reading some book. Sam had just left to go do some research on Jesse, so it was just me and Dean here. I flipped through the channels until I found this channel that played Dr. Sexy, MD. I smiled and left it on as I continued to watch it.

Dean raises his head to the TV just as a nurse grabs the collar of the doctor's white coat. "Please, doctor, it has to be you. You have to save this boy. If you don't, then..." She said, in a exaggerated dramatic manner. "You'll what?" The doctor asked, also dramatic. "I'll quit this job." She said.

"Oh, God, you gotta be kidding me." Dean grumbles. "What? Have to keep up with my stories." I said. "You are such a girl." Dean said. "Well, last I checked...I am a girl." I said. “Yeah, but you’re like a badass hunter girl. When did you become a rom-com girl?” Dean asked. “I don’t know. When did you become a cartoon smut girl?” I asked.

“It’s called anime and it’s an art form.” Dean said, defensively. I rolled my eyes and turn back to the TV. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” He said. “I could say the same to you.” I replied, pointing the remote towards the TV.

Dean look at it and scoffs. “You can’t be serious.” He said, annoyed. “I have the remote, I pick the show, and you shut your cakehole.” I said, tapping his nose with the remote.

Dean shakes his head and begins watching Dr. Sexy with me, annoyed. After a couple scenes, the doctor and the nurse started making out in the on-call room and Dean sits forward, completely riveted. "Alright, now we're talking." He said and I laugh. "Of course, that would get your attention I laughed and Dean turns his head to me.

"Well, you didn't say there was sex scenes." He said, a bit of a smirk on his lips. "My God, you are the horniest man I've ever met." I said and Dean looks over at me, a mischievous grin on his face. "And it's never gonna change, princess." Dean said and I scoff out a laugh. "I would hope not, otherwise you'd explode." I said.

At that moment, Sam walks in and I turn the TV off. "So, dug up what I could on Jesse Turner. It's not much. Uh, B student, won last year's Pinewood Derby. But get this. Jesse was adopted. His birth records are sealed." Sam explained as he shuts the door behind him.

"So you unsealed them, and?" Dean asked. "There's no father listed, but Jesse's biological mom is named Julia Wright. She lives in Elk Creek, on the other side of the state." Sam said and Dean and I share a look. "Sounds like a road trip." I said and we get up and head out.

A sign reading "NO TRESPASSING" hangs on the gate of a rusty, overgrown fence. Deqn pushes the gate open and walks through, Sam and I right behind. We walk around to the front door, which has two deadbolts, and Dean rings the doorbell. Then a voice, probably Julia, speaks through the door without opening

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested." She said and Dean looks at us for a moment. "We're not salesmen. Agents Page, Lee and Plant, FBI." Dean said as we pull out our badges and hold them up to the peephole. "Put your badge in the slot. Your partners', too." Julia said and Dean does as she asked.

There was a pause before we head the locks clatter and the door opens, revealing a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and she looked tired and frazzled. "What do you want?" Julia asked as she hands out badges back.

"Um..." Sam said as we put our badges away. "We just had a few questions. About your son." Sam said. "I don't have a son." Julia said. "He was born March twenty-ninth, nineteen ninety-eight, in Omaha." Sam said and Julia looks up, her face expressionless. "You put him up for adoption?" Sam said and Julia sighs.

"What about him?" she asked. "We were just wondering, um, was it...was it a normal pregnancy?" I asked and she says nothing. "Was there anything strange?" Dean asked then Julia slams the door.

"Stay away from me!" she shouts. "Mrs. Wright, wait!" Dean said then he pushes the door open and we follow Julia inside. She runs to the kitchen and shuts the door, but Dean pushes the door open. "We just want to talk!" Dean said as Julia grabs a canister of table salt, wrenches it open, and tosses the contents at us. She stares at us as if she expected something to happen to us.

"You're not demons?" She asked us. "How do you know about demons?" I asked her and she looks down at the floor.

Later, Julia sits at the table with a cup of tea, the boys and I sit across from her. She sets the cup on a saucer and folds her arms. "I was possessed. A demon took control of my body, and I hurt people. I killed people." she said. "That, that wasn't you." Sam said. "But I was there. I heard a woman beg for mercy. I...felt a young girl's blood drip down my hands." Julia said, her voice shaking.

"That's how you knew about the salt." Dean said. "Yeah, I picked up tricks. It was in my head for months." Julia said. "How many months?" I asked her. "Nine." she replied. "So your son..." Sam said, realizing, and Julia nods. "Yeah, the whole time. The pregnancy, birth—all of it. I was possessed. The night the baby was born, I was alone. And the pain was—the pain was overwhelming. I, I screamed, and it came out a laugh, because the demon was happy. It used my body to give birth to a child. When it was over, something changed. Maybe the—the demon was tired or if the pain helped me fight it, but...Somehow, I took control. And the demon wailed inside me. It pounded against my skull. I thought my head was gonna explode. But I knew. I knew what I had to do. And when I was alone with the baby...A part of me...part of me wanted to kill it." Julia explains then she begins to cry.

"But, God help me, I couldn't do that. So, I put it up for adoption, and I ran." She said. "Who was the father?" Dean asked her. "I was a virgin." Julia said and the boys and I look at each other, worried.

"Have you seen my son? Is he human?" She asked us. "His name's Jesse. He lives in, uh, Alliance. He's a good kid." I said and Julia nods.

"So, now what?" Sam asked as we leave her house. "We need help." Dean said as he pulls out his phone.

Sometime later, we enter the motel room and look up to see Castiel waiting for us. "I take it you got our message." Sam said as he sits at the table and Dean closes the door. "It's lucky you found the boy." Castiel said. "Oh, yeah, real lucky." Dean said, sarcastically.

"What do we do with him?" I asked Castiel. "Kill him." he said, plainly, and we all stop and stare at him, shocked. "Cas." Dean mutters. "This child is half demon and half human, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures call this hybrid cambion or katako. You know him as the antichrist." Castiel said and he sits at the table, where a fart noise sounds out. It continues as poor Cas shifts positions.

"That wasn't me." Castiel said as he pulls out a whoopee cushion. "Who put that there?" Dean asked and I elbow his side while Cas tosses the whoopee cushion aside.

"Anyway, I don't get it. Jesse is the devil's son?" Sam asked and Cas sighs. "No, of course not. Your Bible gets more wrong than it does right. The antichrist is not Lucifer's child. It's just demon spawn. But it is one of the devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven." he said.

"Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?" I asked. "The demons lost him. They can't find him. But they're looking." Castiel explains. "And they lost him because?" Dean asked. "Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons. For now." Castiel said.

"So he's got, like, a force field around him. Well, that's great. Problem solved." Dean said. "With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him. The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. And then, with a word, this child will destroy the Host of Heaven." Castiel explains.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. You're saying that—that Jesse's gonna nuke the angels?" I asked him and Cas nods. "We cannot allow that to happen." said Castiel. "Wait." Sam said, standing up. "We're the good guys. We—we don't just—kill children." Sam said. "A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war." Castiel growls at Sam. "Things change." Sam said as Dean and I step forward, DwN puts a hand on Sam's arm and he and I put ourselves between Sam and Castiel.

"Okay. Hey, look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here either. We know that. So...we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do." Dean said. "You'll kidnap him? What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world." Castiel said. "So we—" Dean started to say but I interrupt him.

"So we tell him the truth. You say Jesse's destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn't yet." I said to Castiel. "Exactly! So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice." Sam said and there was a long silence.

"You didn't. And I can't take that chance." Castiel said to him and Sam glares at him as Castiel vanishes. "Damn it." Sam sighs.

We make our way to Jesse's house and kick in the front door to see Jesse standing there, staring at us. "Was there a guy here? In a trench coat?" Dean asked him and Jesse points at the floor: there is an action figure wearing Castiel's suit and trench coat and holding a silver knife.

Dean kneels to pick him up and looks up at me and Sam, then Jesse. He then sets the Castiel action figure on the mantelpiece as Jesse sits on the couch, Sam on a chair and I sit next to Jesse.

"Was he your friend?" Jesse asked, nodding to the Castiel action figure. "Him? No." Dean said. "I did that. But how did I do that?" Jesse asked. "You're a superhero." Dean said and Jesse looks up at him. "I am?" he asked. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman—minus the cape and the go-go boots. See, my—my partners and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil." Dean said and Jesse seemed to perk up at this.

"Like the X-Men?" He asked. "Exactly like the X-Men." Dean chuckles. "In fact, the, uh, guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. You'll get the girl. Sounds like fun, right?" Dean asked him until he is flung against the wall.

"They're lying to you." a female voice said and Sam and I turn and stand up to see Julia walking in, she was possessed. The demon flings us against the wall with Dean. Jesse stands up.

"Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Orders. You, on the other hand? Hurting you's encouraged." The demon said and she flicks her wrist and slams Dean against the opposite wall, then back. "Leave him alone!" Jesse yells and the Demon leans down to Jesse, speaking sweetly.

"Jesse. You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes." She said. "Who are you?" Jesse asked. "I'm your mother." The demon said. "No, you're not." Jesse spat. "Mm-hm. You're half human...half one of us." she said. "She means demons, Jesse!" I yelled and the demon straightens and holds up a hand clenched into a fist, making me groan in pain.

The Demon leans back down to Jesse. "Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You're not theirs—not really." she said. "My mom and dad love me." Jesse growls, defensively. "Do they? Is—is that why they leave you alone all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. You've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you. They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero." the demon said.

"Then what am I?" Jesse asked. "You're powerful. You can have anything you want. You can do anything you want." the demon said to him. "Don't listen to her, Jesse!" Dean yells and the demons holds up a hand and Dean groans.

"They treated you like a child. Nobody trusted you. Everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?" The demon asked Jesse as she turns back to him and Jesse clenches his fist, the room begins to rattle. The Demon looks up, exultant, and the fire flares up and the lights flicker.

"See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse." the demon said as things begin to shatter. "Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies." the demon said.

"She's right. We lied to you." Sam said and the Demon looks at Sam, eyes black. "But I'll tell you the truth." Sam said and the demon raises a fist and Sam struggles to speak. "I just want...to tell..." Sam gasps.

"Stop it." Jesse said and Sam drops to the floor, released, and he gasps in breath. "I want to hear what he has to say." Jesse said to the Demon. "You're stronger than I thought." the demon said, surprised, as Sam stands up.

"We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean, and my friend (y/n) (l/n). W-we hunt monsters." Sam said. "Except when you are the monster. Right, Sammy?" the demon sneered but Sam ignores her. "And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to—it's a demon." Sam said.

"A demon?" Jesse asked. "He's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him. Punish him." the demon growled and Jesse turns to her. "Sit down and shut up." Jesse demanded and a chair scoots up behind the Demon, who is forced into it, silent. She struggles to speak.

"There's, uh, kind of a...a war between angels and demons, and...you're a part of it." Sam goes to explain. "I'm just a kid." Jesse said. "You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do...millions of people will die." Sam said. "She said I was half demon. Is that true?" Jesse asked. "Yes. But you're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life." Sam said.

"Why are you telling me this?!" Jesse asked him, upset. "Because I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn't." Sam said and Jesse thinks about this. He clenches his fist and looks at the Demon. "Get out of her." Jesse demands and the chair flies back against the wall.

Black smoke pours out of Julia's mouth and vanishes up the chimney. Then Dean and I drop to the ground, panting. "How did you do that?" I asked him. "I just did." Jesse said, shrugging. "Kid...you're awesome." Dean said and Jesse smiled a bit before he looks over at Julia, slumped in the chair.

"Is she gonna be all right?" he asked and Dean goes to look at her. "Eventually." he said then he leans down and picks up the Castiel action figure, which fell down at some point. "Look, uh, truth is, he's kind of a buddy of mine. Is there any way you could turn him back?" Dean asked Jesse. "He tried to kill me." Jesse said. "Right. Uh. But he's a—he's a good guy. He was just confused." Dean said but Jesse says nothing.

"Okay. It's been a long night. We'll...talk about it later." Dean said and he puts the Castiel action figure back on the mantel. "What now?" Jesse asked and Dean looks at me and Sam. "Now we take you someplace safe, get you trained up. You'd be handy in a fight, kid." Dean replied.

"What if I don't want to fight?" Jesse asked and I frown. "Jesse." I said, softly, and I come forward to sit in front of him. "You're powerful. More powerful than...pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you—"

"A freak." Jesse said, interrupting me. "To some people, maybe. But not to us. See, we're kind of freaks ourselves." I said as I look over at a side table and made it float. Jesse turns to look and sees it rising in the air. "You have powers too?" Jesse asked me as he turns to look back at me, a bit of a smile on his face, and I nod. "I was infected with demon's blood, so it isn't as strong as your powers." I said as set the table down.

Jesse stares at me then frowns. "I can't stay here, can I?" he asked. "No. The demons know where you are, and more will be coming." Dean said. "I won't go without my mom and dad." Jesse said. "There's nothing more important than family. We get that. And if you really want to take them with you, we'll back your play. But you got to understand—it's gonna be dangerous for them, too." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Jesse asked. "Our dad...he would take us with him wherever he went." Dean said, gesturing between him and Sam. "Where is he now?" Jesse asked. "Dead. A demon killed him." Sam said and Jesse turns to me. "What about you?" He asked me. "My dad and their dad were partners. So, yes, I was on the same boat as them." I said. "Where's your dad?" He asked me. "He died as well. A demon gave him cancer." I said and Jesse looks down, sad.

"Look, Jesse...once you're in this fight..." Dean said as he leans down to Jesse. "You're in it till the end, win or lose." Dean said. "What should I do?" Jesse asked us, looking between the three of us. "We can't tell you. It's your choice. It's not fair. I know." I said and Jesse looks down.

"Can I go see my parents? I, I need to...say goodbye." he said. "Sure." Dean said and Jesse gets up and climbs the stairs.

Minutes pass on and Sam examines the Castiel action figure and puts him back on the mantel. "He's been up there a long time." I noted and we head upstairs and go to Jesse's room, only to find it empty.

"He's gone." a voice said, behind us. We turn to see Castiel standing behind us. "Where?" Sam asked. "I don't know. Jesse put everyone in town back to normal—the ones still alive. Then he vanished." Castiel said and I noticed a note on Jesse's bed. "Hey." I said as I go to pick it up and read it, my heat breaking for this kid.

"What does it say?" Dean asked me. "That he had to leave to keep his parents safe, that he loves them, and he's sorry." I said, softly. "How do we find him?" Dean asked. "With the boy's powers, we can't. Not unless he wants to be found." Castiel said.

"You think Jesse's gonna be okay?" Dean asked me and Sam as we drive down the road. "I hope so." I said, letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, me too." Sam said. "You know, we destroyed that kid's life by telling him the truth." Dean said. "We didn't have a choice, Dean." Sam said.

"Yeah. You know, I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke��protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. The more I think about it...the more I wish Dad had lied to us." Dean said. "Yeah, me too." Sam said. "Yeah..." I muttered and I look out the window, at the night sky, hoping against hope that wherever Jesse is, he is safe and sound.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

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ocksuhklawk · 1 month ago

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i‘ve decided to show off my fave oc…. SOZZLE!!😋😋😋😋

(top left corner is true, top right corner is host, bottom is puppet)

soooo some things abt him….

He goes by every pronouns, but I mostly use "he/him" for him🤓

He is the embodiment of peach🔥 (peachy color, not princess peach🗣️)

true and puppet sozzle‘s hair is made of maple leaves👀

some more things abt his behavior:

true Sozzle is a more mature and calm mime, mostly not interested in much interaction with other mimes. he can eventually get irritated if you push the right buttons. noticed the tiny mouths on his cheeks? these two pals might growl at you if you piss him off badly (they can‘t talk, tho)

host Sozzle is…. Interesting? He is, similar to his host Billie (logically), loud and energetic, a little too oblivious towards the boundaries of other mimes… too oblivious for his own good. in-host, he is the one pushing the others‘ buttons. he always tries to include himself into bigger groups of other mimes, but… he gets either ignored, or pushed away. in the end, he always ends up with either Louma (my other oc that i will introduce as soon as i made a design of her puppet), or Oxaclock. if he was canon in the story of colorquest, he would be a background character (that is trying painfully hard to be one of the mains)… oh, and i forgot to say that he can get insufferably jealous.

his puppet is… simple. all in all, an extremely brutal and bloodthirsty lion. unlike his true self, his puppet prefers direct attacks (pouncing at his victims, for example) over choosing a tactic. besides brutality, strength and keen hearing, there isn‘t more special about him. his eyesight is terrible, btw.

#colorquest #colorquest oc #cq oc #colorquest oc drawing #colorquest sozzle #sozzle colorquest #oc art #oc artist #yay

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ancient-wanderer · 2 months ago

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Waverly/Wilson Family Drama wip

Mid-October, 1995

Camp David, Maryland

Late Friday Afternoon

The porch door creaked open for the third time in twenty minutes, and Ellen didn’t bother turning to see who it was.

She sat in one of the weathered teak chairs that lined the edge of the deck of the Aspen Lodge, a mug cooling between her palms. Beyond the railing, the Maryland woods stretched in every direction—dogwoods, pines and maples turning steadily with the season, their leaves already deep in amber, red and gold. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out toward her.

Camp David was quiet the way few places ever were. No motorcades. No press pool. Just the layered stillness of forest and wind and a long drive that led nowhere the public could reach.

It should’ve been peaceful.

They’d only just arrived a few hours ago—her parents, her brother, Larry’s entire family. All of them stepping onto the grounds like it was a reunion, like it wasn’t also a reckoning. The house had good bones—wood-paneled halls, stone fireplaces, oversized leather armchairs—but none of it could muffle the tension simmering beneath polite conversation.

It was one thing to have come out, to face the world with the truth of who she was. But this—this was a family still trying to catch up. Still trying to fit pieces together that didn’t quite match anymore. And here they all were, playing house in the woods, pretending everything could still be the same.

Ellen stared out into the woods, feeling the weight of every branch and leaf. What had she been thinking? Inviting them all here, together, in the wake of everything? Maybe she had hoped the controlled setting would ease the tension, that the serene surroundings of Camp David could somehow soften the raw edges of what they were all facing. Maybe, in some corner of her mind, she thought that a weekend away would give them the time they needed to process—time to let the truth sink in, even if it wasn’t the truth they expected. Or wanted.

Larry had been anxious, and she’d understood why. They both knew they couldn’t avoid the fallout any longer. Their coming out had upended so many assumptions, shattered illusions of who they were in their families’ eyes, the country’s eyes.

If they were going to survive the court of public opinion—if she was going to survive the attacks from Congress, from her own party—they needed this. She needed her family to understand, to be on her side. Without that, everything else was just noise. Because if she couldn’t get them to stand with her, how could she ask a whole country to?

So, they were committed to honesty. No lies. They’d promised themselves that. No more. Even if it meant facing the discomfort, the awkwardness, the questions and the silences that stretched too long.

That was all she could offer them—the chance to see who she really was, even if they couldn’t immediately accept it.

The porch behind her gave a small groan of weight—someone stepping out. Again. Still, Ellen didn’t turn.

“It’s getting cold,” came a voice behind her.

She exhaled, a thin stream of steam rising with her breath. “I’m aware.”

The mug was more prop than warmth now, but she kept it in her hands. She hadn’t asked for company. But she also hadn’t told anyone to leave her alone.

“I thought you might want something stronger than coffee,” the voice added.

This time, she glanced over her shoulder.

Janet stood behind her with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, two short glasses in the other. She raised an eyebrow like it was a question but didn’t wait for an answer before taking a seat next to Ellen.

“I figured if we’re all going to pretend this is a normal weekend, we might as well drink like it is,” she said, setting the glasses down on the table between them.

Ellen gave the smallest nod, grateful without showing much of it. Janet poured them each a finger of bourbon and handed one over.

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

“I always wondered,” Janet said eventually. “About you and Larry.”

Ellen didn’t look at her, but her jaw tightened slightly.

“I didn’t know, not really. But… I mean. Come on,” Janet continued, her tone light but not flippant. “You were Ellen Waverly. You’re—what did my mom used to say? ‘Too impressive by half.’”

That got a faint smile.

“And Larry,” Janet went on, “Larry is… Larry. Brilliant, kind, terrible dresser. He blushes when someone says ‘undergarments.’ I love him, fiercely. But I always had this sense about him. This sense that the two of you were more like… college roommates that got along well enough to make it work.”

Ellen huffed a quiet laugh, her fingers drumming against the tumbler. “You’re not wrong,” she said, eyes still on the glass. “We were roommates. Best friends, really. Oddly good together, just not like that.”

Janet shifted in the chair beside her, crossing one ankle over as she took a slow sip, then rested the glass on her thigh.

“Did he ever have anyone?” she asked, her gaze fixed somewhere out past the trees. “Like that?”

Ellen swirled her own drink, the amber liquid catching a glint of the low sun. “You should probably ask Larry that.”

“I would,” Janet said, “but have you seen him today? His eyebrows are practically grafted to his scalp. He looks like he’s waiting to be audited.”

That pulled a soft snort from Ellen. She tilted her head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across her face.

“I just want him to know he can talk to me,” Janet said. “It’s not like I need names and dates. Just… context.”

Ellen nodded. “He’s never really wanted to find the one. But he’s never been short on company.”

Janet took another sip, then let the glass settle again. “Yeah. That tracks. He’s always been the kind of person who could build a whole life out of the parts he liked… and quietly ignore the rest.”

Ellen gave a quiet hum of agreement and took a sip from her own glass, the bourbon warming her throat. “That’s definitely one way to describe him,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“What about you? Did you ever have anyone?” Janet asked, her voice casual but with a hint of gentle curiosity, as if she was asking about a favorite book, not a cornerstone of someone’s life.

Ellen’s eyes dropped to her glass. The corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily—a smile she had no intention of letting out. Of course there had been someone. There had always been someone, someone who mattered more than anyone else. The only woman who ever made her feel like everything fit, everything made sense. And for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk about Pam. To say her name, to spill every good thing, to let it pour out like she'd been waiting years to tell someone.

But not yet. She cleared her throat and smoothed the expression from her face. That part of the story was coming. Just not tonight.

She took a slow sip of her drink, then set it down with deliberate calm. “We should probably head inside,” she said.

Janet eyed her for a beat, then pushed herself out of her chair with a quiet grunt, taking her tumbler with her. “Yeah, I did leave Craig with your mom when I came out here.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he didn’t deserve that. I thought you actually liked him?”

“I do,” Janet said, offering her hand to help Ellen up. “After you, Madam President.”

Ellen took it with a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go save your husband.”

She brushed her hand down the front of her jacket, gave the woods one last look, then turned toward the door. The porch creaked again behind them as they stepped inside—back to the noise, back to questions, back to family.

#for all mankind #ellen waverly #ellen wilson #fam #camp david wip #fam fics #got 3/6 scenes done for first chapter #there would be 3 #but I’m stalling out #have been demotivated #but the thought of this story persists

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inkameswetrust · 3 months ago

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Guard Dog (A Kames Oneshot)

Pairing(s): Vampire James x Werewolf Kendall, Vampire James x Buffy the Vampire Slayer (sorta)

Characters: (Vampire) James Diamond, (Werewolf) Kendall Knight, (Zombie) Logan Hortense Mitchell, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Content Warnings: Fluff, BL, SFW, Mild Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 2,127

**In my headcanon, Werewolf Kendall looks like an actual werewolf. Not the matted hairball with fangs kind of look inspired by The Wolf Man (c. 1941). I mean the anthropomorphic wolf kind of werewolf with the ears, tail, maw—everything!

divider by @cafekitsune

James sprinted through hallways and hurdled over bystanders, his cape fluttering behind him and giving away his presence. The young vampire huffed with each frantic step as he ran for his life. "James!" A familiarly belligerent voice roared from the distance. James shrieked in response and glued his back to the wall once he turned around the corner.

The labyrinth of the Palm Woods' hallways played tricks on James' psyche, fooling him into perceiving his surroundings as far narrower and lengthy than they appeared. His chest rose and fell as he panted away the remnants of fear that kept him stationary. The door to apartment 2J was just out of arm's reach. Its signage of identification crested upon the white maple wood beckoned the trembling vampire with the promise of safety and security.

Just as James took his first step away from the wall, the weight of his assailant's footstep caught him by the end of his cape and caused him to stumble backward. His body hit the floor with a clamorous thud. The poor vampire groaned and writhed in pain as he desperately kneaded the aching pain out of his head. His eyes fluttered open only for him to be greeted by the harrowing sight of Buffy kneeling against his cape and towering over him with a wooden stake firmly in her grasp.

"Buffy, hey!" James swallowed thickly. "Long time no see!"

"For your sake, it should've stayed that way," Buffy grumbled as she tightened her grip.

"Hey, you're the one chasing after me!" James retorted with a sharp tongue. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were obsessed with me."

Buffy narrowed her eyes to slits and struck the floor right beside James' head in a flash. She broke through the floorboard with her stake, creating a snapping crash that pierced the vampire's ears. James yelped in response to Buffy's preliminary attack, letting his body tighten and tense like a shriveled raisin. "How's that for obsessed?" she teased, a mocking grin stretching across her face.

"Man, do I stand corrected! Speaking of standing..." James nervously chuckled as he fiddled with the clasp of his cape and removed it from his neck, thus freeing himself and rising to his feet. "See ya!" he squeaked as he scurried toward the door of apartment 2J and slammed it shut once he was safely inside. James sighed a breath of relief, letting his body sink and diffuse.

"Jeez, what have you been up to?" Kendall inquired from the living room floor as he scratched the back of his head with his hind leg.

"Oh, just running for my life is all. Nothing too crazy!" James remarked sarcastically.

The plunge of Buffy's wooden stake through the door caught both boys by surprise and caused them to snap their heads in her direction. James cowered in fear, and Kendall stood on all fours as his ear twitched in anticipation of Buffy's presence.

"James!" The vampire slayer cried as she kicked the door down and crossed the threshold into his home.

"Gyahh!" James shrieked as his fear kept him frozen in place.

Kendall's fur stood on end as a vigilant growl rippled past his lips. His maw created a downward curve in which his fangs bore out and glistened at their sharp edges. Buffy quirked a brow, mildly surprised by James' newfound line of defense but no less determined. She wielded the additional wooden stake from its leather sheath and widened her stance as she faced the defensive werewolf.

"Pathetic," Buffy uttered lowly. "Couldn't face me on your own anymore, so you needed your little mutt to come to the rescue?"

"Okay, rude," Kendall scoffed.

"Sorry."

"And for your information, I am not James' mutt. I'm his friend," Kendall explained.

"Mutt or not, you're not getting in my way," Buffy snapped.

"Oh, we'll see about that."

Buffy beckoned Kendall to step forward if he dared with the gesture of her hand. He snarled and lunged at her without a second to waste. The wolf boy bore his fangs in an attempt to subdue his opponent with a hazardous bite, but his maw was met with the block of Buffy's stake. She held him back by pushing the stake against Kendall's teeth, but there wasn't much force to give with only one hand.

Kendall snatched the stake out of Buffy's grasp, rattling it with a fervent shake as if it were a chew toy until he bit down hard enough to snap it in half. He sat before the vampire slayer, patiently awaiting her next move after realizing how much fun it was to have her weapon in his possession. Bewildered by Kendall's sudden drop in aggression, Buffy studied him with a puzzled look. She glanced down at her remaining stake and back at him. His round, wide puppy-dog eyes followed the stake as she slowly and painstakingly waved it around to steal his focus.

Buffy chuckled with amusement, waving her stake from side to side and in circles. Kendall's happily wagging tail swatted the air with an audible woosh. "This is actually kinda cute," Buffy grinned as she tossed her stake to the other side of the room for Kendall to fetch. He quickly scampered in its direction, his claws scraping against the hardwood floor as he scooped it up in his mouth.

After successfully retrieving Buffy's weapon, he returned to her and lowered it to the floor. However, she was hesitant to reclaim it, as Kendall's drool was dampening the wood. "Eugh... that's a little less cute," she remarked.

"Kendall!" James barked out of frustration, urging his protector to focus on the task at hand.

"Right, sorry!" Kendall squeaked apologetically, swiping the stake back from the floor and tossing it over to James to catch.

"Haha, yes!" The vampire cried triumphantly with the stake in his hand, mere moments before his face drooped with disgust. "Oh... nasty." James carelessly tossed the weapon out the window and draped his hand against his shirt to wipe away the excess drool.

"Hey!" Logan squawked out of annoyance, his severed arm pinned to the ground by James' projectile.

James snapped his head in Logan's direction and grimaced remorsefully at his zombie buddy's subdued appendage. "Sorry!" he cried apologetically through the window.

Kendall and Buffy stared awkwardly at James without the slightest idea of what to do next. Awkward silence held the room in a chokehold and swallowed each individual voice whole. The sounds of a ticking clock, the clearing of one's throat, and the occasional bated breath were all that was audible in that brief moment.

"So... what now?" Kendall uttered.

"Get her!" James snapped as he pointed a stern finger at Buffy.

As instructed, Kendall zeroed in on the vampire slayer. He narrowed his wolfish eyes as they gleamed dimly in the cascading glow of moonlight, and pounced on her with a hellish roar. Buffy's back hit the floor with a heavy blow, and she was caged in by Kendall's bestial hands digging into the floorboards by his claws.

She'd sooner break through the floor to evade Kendall's clutches if there was any space left to run. Buffy held her breath and grimaced as she averted her gaze from the wolf boy above her baring his teeth. She clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened with distress.

A string of saliva trickled down Kendall's maw from his lower fangs and petrified the vampire slayer with disgust. She wriggled and writhed to no avail until the thought of Kendall's doggish saliva getting anywhere near her broke her composure.

"Okay, alright, you win!" Buffy cried defeatedly. "Just get him off me before he drools on me!"

A smug grin proudly graced James' lips. The odds were finally in his favor despite it not necessarily being out of his volition. Still, the shift in their power dynamic was oddly refreshing.

"Leave now, and you can get outta here drool-free." James bargained.

"Yes, fine, okay! Just please get him off!" Buffy replied hurriedly.

"You got it," James grinned as he outstretched a firm hand to command his protector. "Kendall, heel!"

With the upward perk of his ears and tail, Kendall crawled off Buffy and scuttled to James' side, where he sat quietly. Buffy rose to her feet like a space shuttle rising to the sky and shuddered from the sheer repulsion of her prior circumstances. Her skin crawled in doing so, and her face contorted with sharp edges and asymmetrical lines.

"This isn't over," Buffy grumbled as she stomped over the severed door and stormed out of the apartment.

Kendall and James shared a kindred sigh of relief, allowing themselves to diffuse any bodily tension accumulated from the rush of Buffy's attempted assassination. As James turned his head to face his baby-doll-eyed protector, he held his breath at the sight of Kendall's wolfish gaze softening at him. A faint glimmer of the moon twinkled in his pools of emerald green.

"I didn't know you had that in you," James uttered as he outstretched his hand, hesitant in his decision to pet Kendall's head. His fingers grazed Kendall's fur, paving the way for his palm to rest between the ears. The vampire's hand swiveled slowly atop Kendall's head with meticulous strokes.

Kendall joyously wagged his tail and wore a toothy grin that eased James into the sensation of petting him. "Aww, good boy," James cooed as he knelt before the wolf boy, allowing his fingertips to trail across the terrain of fur until he reached behind the left ear and scratched accordingly. Ensnared in a particularly blissful trance, Kendall thumped his foot against the hardwood floor and doubled the speed at which his tail wagged. He gazed at James throughhalf-lidded eyes until they slowly fluttered shut so that he may fully relish in his touch.

"Wow, you really like this. Don't you?" James grinned with a warm chuckle. "Wait a minute..."

James' grin widened as he realized how effectively Kendall could defend him and follow commands. Inspiration struck in the corners of his devilish mind, and suddenly, having a drooling, aggressive canine companion seemed like a great idea.

"Say, Kendall," James began as he withdrew his hand from Kendall's head. "How would you feel about staying by my side today?"

Kendall leaned forward to savor every last second of contact before the feeling of the vampire's touch evaded him. He snapped his eyes open in a daze, not completely registering James' words until after he'd spoken them.

"Huh? What...?" Kendall murmured halfheartedly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I need protection. You can provide protection. Buffy will surely be back, and I won't be able to avoid her forever, so that's where I need your help!" The vampire implored. "I can't keep looking over my shoulder and running for my life everywhere I go. I've got places to be, things to do, girls to talk to—this is no way for a gorgeous young vampire to live!"

"So you want me to be your guard dog?"

"No, you've got it all wrong. You're only protecting me from the teeny, tiny, ever-so-small threat to my life and safety. But you coincidentally just happen to be a canine predator."

"Okay, so a guard dog?"

"No, you're still not getting it. Think of it this way," James explained alternatively. "This is an exchange of goods and services. We are exchanging things that the other person is in dire need of. You're providing me with the service of protecting me from certain death."

"And what do I get in exchange?" Kendall inquired skeptically.

"You're in need of a good, right? So why don't I exchange your service for this good?" James offered as he returned his hand to its rightful throne behind Kendall's ear where he scratched until he watched Kendall's face droop like syrup spilling from the bottle. The wolf boy hummed contentedly, becoming putty in James' cold, undead hand. He melted like butter from the return of this pleasant sensation and nearly drooled from the fuzzy tingle fluttering in his chest.

"And if you're really good, I may even throw in a belly rub," James bargained as he trailed his hand down the side of Kendall's maw and cupped where his chin became his muzzle. "How does that sound?"

"Mhmmm..." Kendall muttered in a daze.

"That's my good boy."

Kendall clung to the remnants of his trance before it slipped through his fingers like sand. In snapping back to reality, he fully registered the words James used to lull him into disorientation. The wolf boy shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the vampire kneeling before him with an entirely new understanding of what he agreed to.

"Don't you mean a good boy?"

"That's what I said... isn't it?"

#btr #big time rush #btrtv #james diamond #kendall knight #kames #logan mitchell #logan hortense mitchell #vampire james #werewolf kendall #zombie logan #buffy the vampire slayer #big time halloween #season 2 episode 5 #btr oneshot #big time rush oneshot #kames oneshot

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tinyinvadr · 5 months ago

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New chapter!

Psychoborrower: Whispering Rock

Chapter 6

Milla opted to carry me through the snow. It wouldn’t accomplish much for me to travel through it on foot. Borrowers are not equipped to handle the cold.

Sasha went with us, though he stayed at a distance. He was fully aware of the rift that had opened up between us, and he wasn’t about to try and brush it off.

Sheegor had already herded all of the campers into the main lodge. She’d taken over Ford’s various positions in his absence. It was impressive how she was able to handle it, considering she couldn’t teleport to our knowledge.

We checked the lodge, but there was no sign of Ash. Suddenly, a panicked and exhausted-looking Rox appeared.

“Flint! I can’t find Maple! Have you seen her? Coach went out to look for her but he isn’t back yet, and I keep teleporting to try and find them, but I don’t think it’s working right, and… and…”

They collapsed on their hands and knees, sniffling. Milla picked them up with her other hand, and they immediately hugged me.

“We’ll find them, darling. But, could you tell us where Ash is? We’re looking for him as well.”

Rox wiped their tears. “I… I’m not sure.”

“That’s alright. Just stay here for the time being, okay? We’ll be back soon with everyone safe and sound.”

Rox nodded, teleporting to go sit with Dogen and the other kids.

We headed back out into the cold, searching the campgrounds for any signs of life. Our first encounter was Linda, who we redirected to the lodge. She was concerned she might scare the kids, but Milla assured her that Sheegor would explain everything. Plus Mr. Pokeylope was already there as well, worried sick about her.

It was hard to see anything through the snow, but I noticed movement in the distance and directed Milla towards it. When we got closer, I nearly had a heart attack. A bunny was cornering an unconscious Maple.

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!!”

The bunny looked at me, tilting its head, then hopped closer to Maple. It nudged her with its nose, and I prepped myself to PSI-Blast it. I fully expected the horrible thing to bite her in half with those ridiculously sharp teeth. Why does an animal that primarily eats plants NEED teeth like that?

Just as I was about to fire, Maple opened her eyes, and… she started giggling.

“Aww, hi bunny! Heh… why is it so cold out here?”

The bunny flattened itself to the ground so she could climb onto its back, and she flopped herself over it, burying her face in the soft fur. It then hopped off with her.

We followed the bunny for a while, though even while levitating, it was difficult to keep up with it. Part of what makes them so terrifying is how fast they move. Just… why?

Eventually, the bunny led us to Coach, and it hopped into his arms.

“Good job, soldier! You found her!”

Maple looked up at Coach, this being her first time seeing him up close in the physical world. She shuddered a bit, though it was hard to tell how much of it was fear and how much was from the cold.

“Aw, kid, you’re freezing up. We’ve gotta get you indoors.”

He draped his hand over her shoulders like a blanket and pulled her closer. As scared as she was, she also looked exhausted, and seemed content to let Coach hold her like this.

It was a bit unusual seeing him be this quiet and gentle, but it also made sense. Maple likely registered in his mind similarly to bunnies. Small, innocent, in need of protection. He had to take extra care to not only keep her safe, but to make sure she KNEW she was safe with him.

He took her and the bunny to the main lodge, though there was still no sign of Ash. I figured my best bet was to try and call out to him. I shouted his name as loudly as my tiny, freezing lungs would allow, but it was no use. He wasn’t out there.

But someone else was.

The door to a nearby outhouse slammed open, and Dr. Loboto stumbled out.

“What’s all the yelling about, hm? Oh, it’s you people. Say, has it gotten colder all of a sudden?”

Sasha sighed. “Loboto, what on earth are you doing here? I told you to stay in the Brain Tumbler.”

“No, I don’t remember that. Have any of you seen my kid?”

Sasha and Milla exchanged a concerned glance, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Milla approached him, smiling warmly.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Caligosto. We’re also looking for a lost child. If we work together, I’m sure we can find them.”

“Who said anything about a child? I’m looking for my goat.”

Oh. That kind of kid.

In any case, he joined us in our search. As we walked, he turned his attention to me.

“You’re friends with the goggle boy, right? I don’t think I’ve ever actually talked to you.”

Aside from a few exchanges in his mental world, we hadn’t. And yet, I knew so much about him. His trauma was still a lingering haunting memory to me.

“No, we haven’t. I’m Flint. I helped restore your Moral Compass in the Rhombus of Ruin.”

“Right, yes, I HAVE had less of a desire to perform surgery on unwilling patients lately.”

“That’s… good, I think?”

“Of course it’s good! Maybe your Moral Compass needs to be checked out, little one! How exactly did you fix it by the way? If you want, I could poke at your brain a bit to see if that sorts it out.”

“NO!”

“Sheesh, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. That’s the last time I offer YOU free medical care!”

We continued on, and finally, I caught sight of movement again. I asked Milla to put me down so I could talk to Ash one on one. I figured it would be easiest to reason with him if I talked to him alone.

Of course, she was hesitant to let me run off in the snow, especially since she had already noticed me starting to shiver, but she let me go anyway. This was important and well worth the risk.

I levitated over to him, as he stood with his back turned to me.

“ASH! Whatever you’re doing, just stop!”

He turned around, also visibly shivering.

“I didn’t do this! I’m out here trying to stop it!”

He focused his Cryokinesis, trying to take control of the storm, but it was no use. He was too weak.

“Here, wait, lemme help!”

I started to channel my Pyrokinesis, and the moment he realized what I was doing, he shoved me down into the snow.

“Are you insane?! You can’t melt all this alone, you’ll drain up all your energy and kill yourself!”

“Then what are we supposed to do?! And if it’s not you that made this storm, then who did?!”

“I don’t kn-”

Ash suddenly froze in place, his head slumping down as if he’d been knocked unconscious. Then, his neck cracked back into an upright position. His expression had completely changed. It was alien, like there was someone else behind his eyes.

Oh no…

“So, we finally meet in person. Can’t believe you’re still working with Agent Nein after what I showed you. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Whoever you are, you’re no better! Get out of his head before I force you out!”

He chuckled. “Oh, you don’t wanna do that. You hurt me, you hurt him too.”

At that, I opted to simply restrain him with Telekinesis.

“Then tell me who you are! What are you even trying to do?!”

At that, the Dreamwalker released Ash from their mind control, and he regained consciousness to see me restraining him.

“Flint?! What the hell are you doing?! Let go of me!”

I released him, and he backed away from me, looking terrified.

“It happened again, didn’t it? What did I do when I blacked out? Tell me!”

I raised my hands and took a step back, giving him space.

“Hey, take it easy. Ash… someone’s controlling you.”

“Who is it? Sasha?”

“No. I’m not sure who it is, but they’re a Dreamwalker, and they’ve been showing up in my dreams. We need to get you somewhere safe so they can’t reach you.”

“Oh, and this place is safe?! My Dad told me all about what Sasha used to do!”

“I know. And it’s okay if you don’t trust him. But please, trust me. I’m not one to let another borrower get hurt.”

His eyes widened as I repeated the sentiment he shared with me when he saved me from Bobby, and he took a step towards me. His body was weak, and he appeared to still be in a lot of pain from the brief period he was under the Dreamwalker’s control. He stumbled, slumping his arm around my shoulders and leaning on me as I walked him back to Milla.

She was about to pick us both up when she noticed the rough condition that Ash was in, as well as how he flinched when her hand got close.

“Oh, darling… what happened to you?”

“The Dreamwalker’s been controlling him. They used his powers to start this storm and now he can’t stop it. We need to find some way to block them out so they can’t get in his head anymore.”

Sasha looked like he was about to speak, but hesitated. I glared at him.

“What is it?”

“I might be able to help.”

I turned to Ash, waiting for his response. I fully expected him to say no.

“Fine. Do what you need to do. Just make this stop.”

I eyed him, confused. It was strange that he was willing to trust Sasha when he clearly hated him. But then again, he was desperate, and in this situation, Sasha was the lesser of two evils. He wasn’t actively doing anything to harm him, and if he knew of a way to stop the Dreamwalker, Ash had no choice but to trust him.

At that, we went back to the place where everything fell apart. The place that serves as my bedroom during my time as a camper. A place that I once associated with safety and tranquility, an escape from the chaos of the unforgiving world. When we returned, I only saw it as a lab.

Dr. Loboto was still tagging along with us for some reason, and he looked around the lab judgmentally.

“Hm. Mine’s better.”

Not saying a word, Sasha went straight to his workbench and started tinkering with something. Nothing could pull his focus away from the task at hand. All I could do was watch and wait, and hope that whatever he was doing would work.

And that he would get it done before we lost Ash forever.

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #psychonauts

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the-delta-42 · 9 months ago

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Ripples 1

Ripples

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Chapter 1: In Summary

Ariana swung her feet back and forth as she listened to her parents argue. Her dad wanted to hunt the muggle boys down and punish them, her mother argued that since nothing actually happened, his attack would be seen as unprovoked.

Albus and Aberforth would always keep a close eye on her, at least until she received her letter for Hogwarts. Ariana looked at her new wand, Maple, 10 ½ inches with a Dragon-Heartstring as the core, she gave it a wave, dully watching as sparks flew from the end. Ariana hoped to get into the same house as her brothers, although Albus was absent at times, Ariana had a feeling that he was spending time with that Gellert boy he’d met.

Ariana grinned as the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor, she sat down next to a boy who was absent-mindedly chewing on the end of his wand, at least until he accidentally singed his eyebrows, earning a few laughs. Ariana’s grin slowly fell, suddenly she felt that she was surrounded by idiots.

The boy, Hadrian Potter, sent a stool into the ceiling during charms, and tricked another student into using a size enlarging charm on themselves, until they had to go to the Hospital Wing, granted that other student had been making a second year do their homework, but Ariana doubted tricking them into enlarging their own privates would count as an acceptable punishment.

After their Fourth year, Potter actually looked for her, having heard about how a fight broke out between Gellert and Albus, which left her parents dead.

Ariana scowled, she had known Potter for five years and he still acted like an arse, although she couldn’t help by laugh when he intimidated Professor Binns or when he woke up with ink stained on his cheek after falling asleep on his essay.

In their Seventh year Hadrian and Ariana started courting, before getting Married in the summer after they Graduated, a couple of years later Charlus was born and then came the time for him to go to Hogwarts and then he graduated, he Married Dorea Black and had Arthur, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got married to Josephina Fleamont and had Henry, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got married to Athena Bones, had Fleamont, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got Married to Euphemia Prewett. Due to the various wars, both Muggle and Wizard, Ariana had seen many members of her family die long before their time, Hadrian and Charlus died in the fields of Belgium and France walking out of their trenches, Arthur and Henry would help fight Grindlewald, both being killed for it, but Ariana, as well as the other widows in the Potter family felt the pain of Fleamont and Euphemia as they struggled to have a child, the pair seemingly giving up, up until the late 1950’s when the pair arrived at the Manor and proudly announced that a baby was on the way.

James Potter was born in the early hours of the 27th of March 1960, red faced and screaming, at least until he was wrapped up in a blanket. James went to Hogwarts, befriended one of Dorea’s great-nephews Sirius Black, a small watery eyed boy Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, who looked worse for wear at times.

The group were as thick as thieves throughout their time at school, although Ariana made sure to pull James aside to get him to fix his attitude, after Albus contacted her and informed her of James’ antics, the following summer James came back with a boy with a hooked nose, Ariana could tell that Severus Snape was wary of James and the other four. Ariana was talking with Dorea when they rounded the corner and found the group, minus James holding a cupboard door shut. They later found out that they had locked James and a girl he liked, Lily Evans, in the cupboard and they were trying to keep them in there.

After they graduated, they all joined the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation set up by Albus to combat the Dark Lord Voldemort. James and Lily got married, Severus joined the Death Eaters as a spy for the Order, Remus went to speak with the were-wolves and James and Lily went into hiding shortly after their son Harry had been born.

Josephina died before Fleamont had been born and Athena had been on her last legs before James was born and died a month after from a heart attack and Fleamont and Euphemia contracted Dragonpox and died shortly before Harry’s birth. Sirius had told Dorea and Ariana about the plan to prevent Voldemort finding the Potters, with himself as a decoy secret keeper and Peter being their actual secret keeper.

On the 31st of October 1981, Ariana convinced Albus to allow James and Lily to sit in on an Order meeting, while Dorea watched over Harry. A little while into the meeting, a small device that Dumbledore had on the table set off, screaming. James and Lily paled before rushing outside and disapperating to Godric’s Hollow, where they found Dorea dead and Harry screaming with a red lightning bolt scar etched onto his forehead. James ran into Sirius, who gave James his motorcycle and took off looking for Peter.

Peter blew up a muggle street, killing thirteen muggles, before turning into a rat and running away. Sirius as arrested and placed in Azkaban without receiving a trial.

For the past four years the Potters, as well as the rest of the Order kept protesting Sirius’s innocence, while taking care of Harry and Neville, whose parents had been driven insane by Bellatrix LeStrange and three other Death Eaters. In the immediate aftermath of Voldemort’s disappearance, several of his former followers claimed to be under the imperious curse, while paying the new Minister to ensure their pardon.

Harry watched as the water in his cup poured into the sink, before he refilled it and repeated the process, giggling as he did it.

“Harry’s discovered physics.” Said Lily, as James walked into the room.

James gave a small smile, before walking out the back door and throwing a blasting curse into the sky, a bright flash appearing, making Harry look up from the water and at the unintentional fireworks display.

A crack behind her told Lily that the others arrived.

“I take it you’ve heard the news?” Said Remus, his hair greyer that it had been the last time she saw him.

“Well, James didn’t say anything, except go outside and give Harry a new form of entertainment.” Said Lily, as Severus walked into Harry’s field of vision and boop him on the nose.

“The Minister has said ‘Since there is no evidence to prove Black’s innocence, the case is going to be closed.’” Said Remus, making Lily scowl, before Rose and Violet ran into the room, screaming.

Lily sighed, before picking Harry up and moving him away from the sink, so that she could finish the washing up, “Any other news?”

“Charles Steven has been sent to Azkaban, after he killed his brother for branding Mercutio with the Dark Mark.” Said Remus, picking Violet up, “Fenrir Greyback has attacked another child and a delightful toad has gone on a warpath against anything that isn’t human.”

Lily rolled her eyes, as James came back in, “You left out the part where a healer decided to amputate Mercutio’s arm.”

Lily stopped, before she turned and looked at James, “They what now?”

“Amputated the left arm of a five-year-old.” Said James, scooping Harry up, “I also got a snotty letter from Croaker, asking how your charms are coming along.”

“The sleeping charm works perfectly, the mental restoration charm is a bit foggy, since we don’t have anyone to test it on.” Said Lily, as she looked at Neville, who was looking at the pictures in a Herbology book.

James followed her gaze, “And since the one’s the spell is being made to help are off the table, you practically have no way of knowing if it works or not.”

The room was silent, with the exception of the two four-year-old girls who seemed to speak their own language.

“What if we found someone whose mind was broken, but not to the extent that they are not aware of their surroundings.” Said Severus, looking at Lily.

Lily was silent, before her arms went slack and dangled at her sides as she stared aimlessly into nothing.

“Like victims of a traumatic experience, like a car crash.” Said Lily, suddenly starting to pace, “And St. Mungo’s is full of people who has undergone at least one form of trauma, several of which should be able to give their consent to be tested on.”

Lily suddenly walked out of the room and grabbed her wand and prepared to disapperate.

“Um, Lily,” Called James, “aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lily quickly walked over and kissed James and each of her children on the cheek.

“Lily, you’re still in your pyjamas.” Said James, making Lily look down at herself.

“Ah.” Said Lily, before she rushed upstairs and got dressed.

James smiled and shook his head, looking down at Harry, “If we’re lucky, you might get her brains and my good looks.”

Harry giggled, “Can we have more fireworks, daddy? Please?”

James smiled, before leading Harry and the others outside, Neville pressing himself against Remus, as James conjured a blanket for the children, before pointing his wand in the air and letting a stream of bight flashes from the tip of his wand. The children laughed and clapped; James vaguely heard the phone ring. Lily had insisted that they install it, so she could speak to her Muggle relatives. The phone stopped ringing and James finished off his show by settling some of the sparks into the shape of a dragon.

Lily arrived at the back door, a sour look on her face.

“That was my sister.” Said Lily, “Apparently she invited her family to our house for dinner.”

James felt his stomach drop.

‘Well,’ Thought James, ‘this is going to be fun.’

The dinner was not fun, Petunia had not aged well, in Lily’s opinion. It didn’t help that her son, even though he more resembled a mix between and pig and a beach ball, wanted more food and started to throw a tantrum. It certainly didn’t help that Vernon was feeding into Dudley’s tantrum. It absolutely didn’t help that Petunia ‘forgot’ to mention that Vernon’s sister was joining them.

Harry, Neville and the girls ate quietly, watching Dudley make himself look like an idiot, while Marge was going on about dog breeding, trying to subtly insult James and Lily.

Lily struggled to keep her face neutral as Marge continued to insult them. Vernon then reached across the table and snatched Harry’s food away and giving it to Dudley.

“Give that back.” Said Harry, glaring at Vernon, while Dudley ate Harry’s food.

“Dudley needed it more.” Said Vernon, a sneer on his face.

“What he needs is a diet and exercise,” Said Harry, “although, I think your entire family needs it, then you might stop looking like a pig.”

Vernon’s hand connected with the side of Harry’s head. Marge’s dog would’ve gone for Harry, were it not for the black Wolf Hound suddenly snapping and snarling at him.

“Address me like that again, Freak,” Bellowed Vernon, while the other Dursley’s looked amused, “and I’ll whip you with my belt.”

“Get out.”

James was already half-way out of his seat when Lily spoke.

“What?” Snarled Vernon, glaring at Lily.

“I said get out,” Said Lily, cold rage on her eyes, “you’re not welcome here, and I want you to leave.”

Marge scoffed, before leaning forwards and put her face in Lily’s, “Now you listen here…” Said Marge, before her finger started to inflate.

Marge continued to inflate until she looked like a massive beach ball that was floating around. The Dursley’s all started to rush out, Petunia being the last out the door.

“We never should’ve come here,” Sneered Petunia, “The Freaks are too dangerous.”

“You’re right, Mrs Dursley,” Said Lily, from the door, “I don’t even know why I let a stranger into my home.”

Petunia stopped dead, before she turned and looked at Lily. Lily glared at Petunia, until Petunia got into the car, with Marge strapped to the roof so they didn’t lose her.

Lily looked at James, “I take it, inflating her was you’re doing?”

James shook his head, before a sniffle caught their attention, making the pair look at Harry, who was struggling, and failing, not to cry. Lily rushed over and looked at the red mark on Harry’s face, his glasses broken in his hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry, mummy,” Harry hiccupped, “I-I didn’t mean to ruin tea.”

“Harry,” Said Lily, while James fixed Harry’s glasses, “You didn’t ruin everything.”

The dams burst and Harry was crying into his mother’s chest, Lily carried Harry into the kitchen and set him on the counter, before locating a bad of frozen peas, wrapping it in a tea towel and gently pressing it against Harry’s face. Harry whimpered, before falling silent. Suddenly feeling sleepy, Harry started to doze off.

Lily looked at the clock and decided that it was time for the children to go to bed.

The next day, Severus arrived at the Potter’s home with a jumpy, jittery five-year-old who looked like he’d been attacked by a Dementor.

***Seven Years Later***

Harry groaned and rolled over onto his front, his arm covering his eyes. A small black orb on his desk rattled, making Harry sneer at it and stalk over to it. Harry picked the orb up and shook it, the orb went from black to a light blue, after dismissing the alarm, Harry went back to bed.

Rose and Violet burst into Harry’s room.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They screamed, making Harry jump and tumble out of bed.

“I really wish you didn’t do that.” Said Harry, as he lay face down on the floor.

“But why deprive us of the entertainment?” Came an amused voice from Harry’s doorway.

A dark-haired boy stood in the doorway, Harry then spotted Neville and Ron behind him.

“Very funny.” Said Harry, getting to his feet, “I take it the alarm was your idea?”

“Ginny’s actually.” Said the boy, standing up straight, the sleeve on his left arm shifting up as he moved, revealing the silver bones of a human arm, “After all, what girl doesn’t want to wake their boyfriend up?”

Harry threw his shoe at him, “Bones, Ginny and I are just friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Said Bones, a smirk on his face, “one day you might believe it.”

Bones gave a short whistle, getting the girls attention, “Go tell them that he’s awake.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Violet demanded, crossing her arms.

“Because the moment I turn my back, he’ll throw his other shoe at me.” Said Bones, causing Rose to look at Violet and pull a ‘fair enough’ face.

The girls shot past the boys, before Bones, Ron and Neville entered Harry’s room.

“That was easier than I expected,” Said Bones, casually strolling into the room, “Your parents already know you’re awake, but they’ll be roped into setting the table. Which give us time to talk about the date.”

“My birthday?” Said Harry, tired.

“Precisely,” Said Bones, “Today is the day you get your Hogwarts letter and the day your family steps out of the shadows.”

There was a bang, making everyone look at the window, just in time to see a grey owl falling to the ground.

“Was that Errol?” Said Neville, as Harry pulled his clothes on.

“Probably.” Said Ron, looking back at Harry, “Hurry up, the food’s getting cold.”

“Of course, you’d think with your stomach.” Neville muttered, before walking out of the room.

Harry was quiet, before looking at the others, “I take it the spell still needs refining.”

“Yeah, they showed awareness of their surroundings for about an hour, before they relapsed.” Said Bones, walking to the doorway with Ron and Harry following.

The morning was a small affair, before Harry’s letter arrived, then it was off to Diagon Alley.

#harry potter #wizarding world #harry james potter #ariana dumbledore #lily evans potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #severus snape #ron weasley #neville longbottom #Ripples AU #Harry Potter AU #delta writes

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lucygraysboy · 3 months ago

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“i’m sorry, lucy gray. does he come ‘round often? actin’ like this?” pretending he wants something from her, a few tomatoes or strawberries or some goat milk, whatever the excuses might be. it worries billy because it’s borderline predatory behavior, cornering the poor girl, being so persistent and pressuring, hoping she’ll cave in. he doesn’t like it one bit. “don’t gotta thank me for sayin’ it as it is, doll. you’re real tough.” and he loves it about her, all this fire and courage. “yeah, my ma always had our best interest in mind, not so much her own.” which is heartbreaking on a different level, this kind of selflessness.

“you’re makin’ my heart do the wildest things. gimme a hand, feel for yourself,” he encourages with a laugh, carefully guiding her hand over the table and pressing it to his flushed chest, his green shirt still unbuttoned. his heart continues to pound erratically, most likely wishing it could break free and fly out to her. it belongs to her anyway, he thinks, refusing to ponder the idea that he might one day feel this way about some other woman. it seems impossible. “you’re the real sweetheart here, lucy gray.” his sweetheart, now and always. “what?” he playfully inquires, letting her hand drop before he’ll end up having a heart attack. “you liked it?” he echoes, laughing but in that sweet, boyish way. it’s good to know this side of him doesn’t scare her away. it impresses her, clearly. he thinks he might faint. it’s attractive. after all, what man doesn’t want to be seen as the strong protector?

“i’ll never let anyone hurt you, lucy gray,” the cowboy promises, his pale blue eyes studying hers with a certain kind of determination, laced with softness and affection. if billy taupe returns, he’ll show him the way out. for real this time. “well, it’s only fair you promise to sleep in tomorrow and let me take over kitchen duties, alright? you deserve a mornin’ all to yourself, too, you know?” he insists, scooping up some oats and munching on them, humming in delight as the sweetness of the maple syrup melts on his tongue. this is the best thing ever. it’s only when he hears her next words that his eyes grow somewhat misty, emotions that he can’t even begin to name brewing up inside his belly. “we’ll find a way to make it work, lucy gray. don’t worry. as long as we want to be around each other forever, we’ll make it happen.” maybe it’s wishful thinking, maybe love’s turning him naive, but he thinks he’ll be able to find a solution eventually.

“but until we do, i’ll be comin’ back to you as often as i can.” he’s glimpsed a seemingly abandoned house by that lake they’d visited yesterday, and is now wondering if he could just camp there during those days while the preacher’s home. “i don’t remember the last time i had maple syrup! it’s so sweet, tastes like childhood,” he admits with a smile, changing the subject before they’ll both end up in tears. “please, that’s impossible, you could never look bad. i refuse to believe these lies.” not even with the biggest rats nest on her head. “now the grouchy part, that’s something i’d like to see.”

"mhm, exactly. in his head." the brunette agrees, that's precisely it. and he's right... billy taupe hates taking no as answer. "thank you darlin', that's kind of you to say." a sweet smile crosses her features at him giving her the confidence she can take care of herself just fine. looking off in sad thought at the knowledge about his mother, what a sad story, it sounded even a little familiar. "i wish that too... maybe she thought she couldn't survive and keep her children alive." lucy gray would like to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"aw, well, you're a sweetheart. supportin' me, defendin' me. you truly are." a definition of a sweetheart. it was impossible to not let feelings grow for a man like that, a man like him. to be wrapped up in his arms like this. shyly, she parts to sit in the chair next to him. "you're already a gentleman, though. you got exceptions to go cursin'. i liked it." quietly admitting so, grinning as she looks at her left over oat meal, deciding to scoop some up and take a bite to hide her deviousness.

"no, you hush. i always make breakfast for my guests. and you were allowed to sleep in, you've had a hard week." his body has been put through a lot, he deserves those extra hours of sleep. "oat's are good for you. you got extra sleep. that's good for you, too." smiling as she takes an extra bite off hers. "i agree... and i'd like to have you around forever, if that were possible." if only it were possible... he's on the run and the preacher would never approve of him even if he wasn't. "that is maple syrup, mhm," nodding her as she sips some water in her cup, cheeks starting to flush at noticing the way he's looking at her. "oh give it time, angel. give it time. you just have seen me for a few days... i promise i do look bad with my hair a mess when i first wake up and on days i'm grumpy." she jokes, softly laughing at herself because she might melt out of her bones if she hears him compliment her so sweetly one more time.

#billysgirllol #verse: western.#billy: i bet shes even cuter when shes grouchy #me: baby youre just crazy in love you dont know what youre asking for lol

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malestransforming · 2 years ago

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Becoming Papi

An unnamed narrator wins a competition to get "up close and personal" with his favourite hockey player, Auston Matthews. Turns out he may be getting closer and more personal than he anticipated!

This is a story I've posted elsewhere. It is my story, copyright me.

"Get Up-close and Personal with Auston Matthews!” The competition had said. I had entered on a whim, never expecting to win. I was very surprised to receive the winning notice in my inbox a few days later. For a week, I had been buzzing. I was going to meet my favourite hockey player! Number 34 of the Toronto Maple Leafs: Auston Matthews.

And now I was here! Sitting in a random training room at the Ford Performance Centre in Etobicoke, Ontario, just outside of Toronto. The room was cool and full of exercise equipment. Massive banners hung from the ceiling and the walls were covered in different murals of player faces and motivational phrases. I fiddled with my shirt as I waited, thinking about how Auston was likely in the next room also waiting for me. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was or if he was calm and cool, but before I could put much into the thought, the door opened. A woman dressed in black poked her head through the gap.

“You can come in now,” she said.

I smiled and and followed her through the door. The room on the other side was a long room, with wooden dressing stalls and benches against the walls. Hockey equipment hung at each stall; pants, shoulder pads, blue and white practise jerseys and the room had a gentle odour of sweat. A massive Maple Leaf logo covered much of the floor, and sitting on one of the wooden benches was Auston Matthews. He was wearing a cream coloured hoodie, shorts and a baseball cap. The way he sat on the bench pushed his thighs, making them seem thicker and bigger. His hair was slicked back behind his ears while his dark moustache was sitting darkly on his upper lip.

“Auston,” I murmured, reaching towards him with my hand. “It’s so, so incredible to meet you!”

“Hey,” he said in a relaxed drawl and standing up to meet me. He was taller than me. His smile instantly relaxed me. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m such a big fan. You’re, like, my favourite player.” I was gushing, but I didn’t care.

He was killing me with that smile. I realized I was still gripping his hand.

“Oh sorry!” I said, but his hand tightened and firmed around mine. I felt a warm tingling around my palm for a moment before he let go and grinned at me.

“You’re going to be perfect,” he said. “What happens next is going to be weird… Just relax and let it happen.”

He let go of my hand and I felt my face contort into a puzzled expression. But before I was able to voice a question, I was met with an extreme pricking sensation travelling up my arm. It started in the hand Auston had just shook and gradually travelled and radiated across my body. It felt like a warm, relaxing wave that cascaded through my blood and over my skin.

“You should probably take off your clothes for this,” Auston said.

I nodded and did what I was told, tossing everything in a corner. The waves were coursing faster through my body now, making my heart thump in my chest. I spied a mirror on the wall and walked over to it, ignoring the fact that I was naked. The tingling sensation was across my entire body now, causing me to become excited and aroused. My penis began to lift and grow harder, and so it only felt right to touch it. I stood naked in the Maple Leafs’ dressing at their practice facility, feeling dazed and tingly, stroking my cock for extra sensation.

The tingling stopped, but the warmth remained and a sudden jolt of energy attacked my shoulders. My shoulders clicked and popped and widened out, with new muscle mass stretching overtop. At the same time, my deltoids and pectoral muscles ballooned, becoming thicker and much more pronounced with thick layers of muscle. I felt strength and power push down into my core. Where once there had been a ring of fat, there were now strong abdominal muscles. My stomach tightened and fortified, needing more room to house the brawn I was gaining, and I became stocky and heavy-set in muscle. Dark lines sketched their way across my right side and arm: new tattoos inked their way onto my bulked mass. An intricate sleeve tattoo wove across my right arm, painting dark lines across my lightly browning skin. I stroked my hand across my chest, feeling the raw strength and newly sprouted chest hair underneath my fingertips. My back cracked and stretched as I jumped up several inches in height.

The skin on my penis darkened and the shaft grew in girth and length into a monster cock. Pre-cum began to drip out of the tip. I was enjoying the changes.

In the mirror I saw a wide-chested, bulked out body attached to two stick-like legs. To say it looked like I skipped leg day would be an understatement. Almost automatically, the changes continued in my lower half. My butt ballooned and padded out, looking like two globes attached to my waist, the product of millions of squats. My thighs thickened and increased significantly, looking more like massive trunks than legs now. Below that, my calves became cut and toned, shedding any excess fat and leaving behind only raw muscle. I stood on two strong centres of explosive power. The skin browned slightly, matched the hue of the my torso.

I looked in the mirror at my new body. Instinctively, I knew it was Auston Matthews’ body. Everything from the neck down was unfamiliar, different and new, but deep down I knew it was right. In fact, it looked odd seeing my thin head attached to such a muscular body. The changes were not finished yet. I turned and saw the other Auston (the real Auston) with his shorts around his ankles, stroking his penis vigorously; it appeared he was enjoying my changes as much as I was.

Turning back to the mirror, I saw my skull and expanding, creaking and cracking as it went. My chin pushed forward, squaring off the back of my jaw as well. My eyes became more inset, slightly narrower and darker and my nose more pointed and wide at the nostrils. My hair lengthened down towards my neck, and my forehead broadened as my hairline migrated to the very top of my head. My ears flattened a little against my head and became longer. The wild and bushy eyebrows I sported before thinned, becoming tapered lines above my dark eyes. My teeth whitened and straightened. And above my thickening lips, a dark wisp of hair poked out through my skin and thickened into a Latino-style moustache. It swept across my entire upper lip into a neat half triangle that stretched under my nose. More patches of scruff and facial hair dotted across my cheeks and neck. Auston Matthews was staring at me from the mirror.

“That was sick, bro!” The other Auston Matthews was behind me, retying the drawstring on his shorts. He was wearing a face mask now, and a dark blue coloured hoodie and cap. His eyes looked lighter than before, almost like he had changed his own appearance as well. He stepped over, offering me his hand to high-five.

I felt my face smile that trademark Auston Matthews smile. “Thanks,” I replied, my voice now lower and echoing the same laid-back drawl, and returned his high-five.

“You probably have a million questions. Like ‘what happened’, ‘what did you do?’, right?”

“Something like that!” I laughed.

“So, yeah, basically… I want some time off. I’m going to disappear for a while… Get off the grid and relax. So while I’m gone, I want you to cover for me. This is your prize for winning that competition!”

“So I’m you?” I said, not fully understanding.

“Not yet. You will be, just as soon as I’ve said the code word. After that, you will be Auston Matthews and I’ll just be some guy.”

“Oh,” I said. “I- I’m pretty shit at hockey. Like, I can skate but I can’t shoot for shit. I can’t even lift the puck. I don’t know how this is gonna work.”

“Don’t worry about that. As soon as I say the code word, the transformation will finish and you’ll have all of my skills and memories, my winning personality… everything! You’ll be a complete copy of me.”

“Really? That’s fucking awesome! But what about the me from before? People are going to wonder where I am.”

“I’ll take care of that. Don’t worry. Let’s just say, that guy from before? He’s living on the other side of the planet. I’ll be back in a year, maybe more if you want, and I’ll change you back. All right?”

A life of possibilities flashed through my mind. I had never thought of playing in the NHL, even as a fantasy, and now it was about to become my reality.

“Oh! I forgot one thing,” Auston said as he lifted his arms behind his neck to two silver chains that were hooked there. “You’ll need these,” he said, and he carefully slipped them around my neck.”

I looked into the mirror, staring back at my naked body, taking in my massive hockey butt and sleeve tattoo. The silver chains caught the light, and a silver cross stuck against my massive pectorals. It felt complete now. I ran my hands over my shoulders, chest, stomach and butt, grinning at myself. I’m going to be Auston Matthews! I thought. No, I am Auston Matthews!

“All right bud, this is it. Remember, from this moment, you are going to be Auston Matthews. It’s going to feel awesome and amazing. Enjoy it.” The other Auston wrapped his arm around my beefy neck. “Don’t forget, you’ve got practice after this, ay Papi?”

Papi? A calm fog entered my brain. The world melted away from me and I felt the final changes take hold.

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs…

My name is Auston Matthews.

My brain filled with years of hockey practice, workouts, flashes of Mexican heritage, memories of playing for USA National Team, playing with the ZSC Lions in Zürich and of playing with the Toronto Maple Leafs. I remembered the awards I had won, the All Star games I had played in, the teammates I had played with. My brain relaxed and mellowed, as new personality traits took over. The foreign-feeling muscles I had just grown became familiar and normal; I immediately knew how to use the power in my legs and arms. Some Spanish words entered my brain and I felt my identity switch to part Mexican. The fog lifted from my brain, and the room re-materialised around me.

What am I doing here, staring at myself in the mirror! I need to get dressed for practice!

I immediately strode over to my dressing stall — the one marked MATTHEWS 34 — and slipped on my compression gear and skate socks. I grabbed my jock and pulled it up to my waist, adjusting my crotch and penis to sit within the cup. Sitting, I reached for my shin pads, fixed him to my legs, and strapped the Velcro around my calves. I pulled a pair of blue and white striped hockey socks overtop of my shin pads, and hooked them securely at my waist.

I was on autopilot at this point; everything felt natural and normal.

I slid into a pair of blue hockey pants and tightened them around my waist. I saw that my skates were a custom pair of CCMs, with a blue and white pattern around the ankle with my nickname Papi and number 34 next to it. I stomped my foot inside the boot and tied my skates on tight. Quickly, I took a roll of hockey tape and wrapped one, two, three strips tightly around my shins. Next I grabbed my shoulder pads and elbow pads and strapped them around my massive arms and chest. I pulled a blue practise jersey over my pads, the number 34 emblemed on the back. Instinctively, I ran my hand through my hair and slicked it back, making it easier for me to don my helmet. I clipped the straps and checked it was on tightly.

I reached for my gloves, putting them on felt familiar and welcoming. I nimbly ambled over, walking in skates, towards the rink exit, grabbing two of my PAPI labelled sticks from the rack. They were already taped and waxed and ready for some quick wristers on the ice. With my equipment on and my sticks in hand, I walked towards the ice.

Before stepping on the rink, I noticed a figure in the stands; an anonymous figure in a cream-coloured hoodie. I offered a loose salute from my temple and took my first stride. I let my powerful leg muscles work the way they had been conditioned to as I made confident movements across the pad. Spying a puck, I pivoted and strode towards it, catching it with my stick and pulling it towards me. I skated towards the empty net and in an instant, snapped it into the back of the goal. The whole movement had taken less than a second. I grinned and looked back to the now empty spot where the figure had stood.

“My name is Auston Matthews, and I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs,” I thought to myself and ripped off another shot on goal.

#male tf #hockey #hockey transformation #auston matthews #racial change #jock transformation

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luveline · 3 years ago

Note

jadey jade hi!! i hope ur well!!! for hurt/comfort i’m thinking jonathan & anxious reader perhaps. like she’s having a panic attack and he is just very very wonderful and holds her hand and helps her get her breathing back to normal <3 it’s ok if u don’t wanna do it lov u

thank you for your request!! love u ♥︎ fem!reader TW panic attack

Jonathan has a scary sixth sense for this kind of stuff. You've barely realised yourself what's happening when he's offering his hand through the merged crowd of your friends and pulling you toward clearer ground. Not far, but enough to give you some privacy.

Grass crushed under your feet, you take awkward, near wobbly steps and come to a pause behind a big maple tree shedding leaves. You watch one drift down on the breeze behind his shoulder.

"What's freaking you out?" he asks gently.

You take a shallow breath. "Um."

He smiles. "That freaks me out, too," he says, offering his other hand. You grab at him like a lifeline. He doesn't complain.

"Listen to my breathing," Jonathan says, taking a slow, unhurried breath.

You copy his movements, eyes everywhere and nowhere. You stare at his eyes, the little lines underneath and his straight lashes, then his cheeks, his neck and that tiny beauty mark on his right side. You lean into his hands, too much of your weight but he doesn't complain, only let's his hands slide further and further up your arms to keep you steady.

"You're okay," he says, speaking with a sweet surety, like it's not even in question. "You're good. Do you wanna sit down?"

You settle on your knees and Jon sits with you, joined hands resting warm as the sun over both kneecaps. He waits with you until you're through the worst of it, and though he tries to hide it there's the slightest hint of panic in his own expression, worried when you hang your head and squeeze his hands. You're sure you'll pass out, but slowly you're okay, you're on the other side of it, and the painful ache in your chest becomes a manageable twinge.

He laughs. Not cruelly — Jonathan doesn't have a mean bone in his whole body. A huffing, light laugh, relief plain as day in the way he strokes your wrist.

"You did so well," he murmurs, brushing the side of his pinky finger over your baby hairs.

"I thought I was gonna die."

"Like I'd let that happen."

You pull his hand back to your face, cheek heavy in his palm.

A leaf falls down and lands on your head. Jonathan laughs again, a real, hearty laugh as he pulls it from your hair, spinning the stalk between his fingers.

"It wanted to make sure you're okay," he says.

Are you okay? You nod at him. "I'm okay."

He strokes down the bridge of your nose with the leaf. "Good, I need you to be okay. I don't think I can survive Will's friends by myself."

"They're your friends, too," you say.

"Yeah, maybe." He draws a circle around the apple of your cheek. "You're my favourite one, though."

Jonathan helps you back onto your feet and tucks the lead behind your ear. He holds your face in both hands, turning it from one side to the other like he's assessing before he presses a dainty kiss to the corner of your eye. Your heart races for a brand new reason.

#jonathan byers x y/n #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

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dcggersedge · 6 months ago

Text

"Don't." Where the same objection had come out sharp and jagged with Alcryst, this time it tumbles into the space between them, exhausted and flat and forced out by a voice that just wants to rest. He meets her eyes again. She breaks first, grimacing as she turns away with a shake of her head. She sits up properly next to him again. "Don't apologize to me for something out of your control. You're only barely older than I am. You couldn't have done anything when it mattered."

The people who failed her aren't even dead. They just don't care. She doesn't want him presenting his heart in the place of the people who would call him weak for it.

"Besides, can you imagine it? The dashing prince rides in to save the day and change my life, like some kind of stupid fairy tale?" Yunaka laughs, even as bitterness pulls at the corners of her lips. "I would've been pissed, probably. I hated you and your family then."

Never him or Alcryst directly, but the idea of them. Of the royal family, living strong and proud while people like her had to fight through mud with mine dust in their lungs to survive. If the royal family was so good, she wondered late into the nights in her cold bed, then why was there no one to help her.

If the divine dragon was so loving, why was she alone?

It's different, but similar. The blood on his hands doesn't matter when there's fancy gloves to keep them clean, but they both know their stains are still there, no matter how much they scrub or how many years past.

Each life was a star now, sent too soon back to the night sky above. A life cut down, unable to see what the next day would bring. She could cover ever inch of herself in all the stars in the world, but it wouldn't be the same, no matter how many different sights and experiences she tried to take them to.

"I understand if you want to see me punished." Above them, the maple leaves still on the branches sway in the breeze. Their shadows below dance, and through the gaps little beams of light sparkle like fallen stars. "Whatever agreement I made with Alcryst doesn't mean shit if the king decides otherwise, after all."

She smiles softly. "I...I know I avoided you for a while back in the army...y'know, cause I was scared you'd find out and drag me back to Brodia when I just left...man, the way you used to always show up at the cafe when I was eating would give me heart attacks!"

She bumps him lightly, playfully with her elbow. For a second, she doesn't feel like the worst person alive. Just for a second. "But...I always liked the way you talked about what Brodia could be. About how it could be better, about how you wanted to help people, about how you cared. I thought it was nice, even if it couldn't include someone like me."

She meets his eyes again. The smile she gives him this time is real. Small and tired, but real. "...I hope you make a Brodia where people like me don't happen ever again."

do you see what I see

return to brodia

#ic #heriteur #thread: do you see what i see #((covering my face in shame this is so fucking long I'm so sorry))#((she wanted to yap...the yappening...))#((anyway hi everyone I'm obsessed with these two. canon didn't give us any supports between them because they knew this would cook))

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creativepawsworld · 3 years ago

Text

Just Like Magic

Pairing = Neil Lewis (Watching The Detectives) x Reader

Summary = Neil is following along with another one of Violets adventures. He is getting married. Can Y/n stop it before it’s too late.

Warnings = Language, Grammar...

Word Count = 1264

Note- One shot that has been sitting in my drafts for a bit. This place is lacking in Neil Lewis content lol so here is a one shot... Enjoy

“Lucien where is Neil?” You asked rushed, hurdling through the glass door of Gumshoe Video. Lucien looking up from his spiderman comic book to look at me with wide eyes before returning to his relaxed state, eyes returning to the book in front of him like this was a daily occurrence for him.

“He’s not here, Violet whisked him away. Leaving me in charge, again.” He muttered, lifting his right index finger to his tongue, dampening it and turning the to the next page, careful not to damage any corners.

“Where did they go Lucien? Don’t you check your messages?” You question rummaging through the cash desk in hopes of finding something, anything that would tell me the address of the where they were heading but only finding old receipts, posters and mail that had been left unopened for some time.

“No why?” He replied, completely unphased by my sense of urgency. A white brochure catching you attention next to his foot, bending down, your breathe hitched in my throat as you read over the tiny writing, finding the address you were looking for.

“I need to take your car” You inform him standing to your feet and taking his car keys from beside the cash register.

“NEIL’S GETTING MARRIED” You heard Lucien yell just as you ran out the door. The door closing with a bang as you jumped into Lucien’s beat up Ford Mondeo out front, speeding to the little church at the end of Maple drive.

You had ran into every red light on the way here, the tears were falling from your eyes as you parked close to Neil’s car, hoping and praying you wasn’t too late.

Running towards the wooden door, you inhaled deeply pushing it open but due to how light the door was, it flew from your hands, smacking off the concrete wall behind it alerting everyone, including the church mice that you arrived.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” You called to the pastor who was standing at the end of the altar, bible opened in his hands with an annoyed expression on his face as he looked at you. “You have really oiled them door huh?” You tried to joke lightly only for it to fall on deaf ears.

“Y/N what are you doing here?” Neil asked wide eyes as he walked towards you, a shocked expression on his face. He was wearing that dorky light blue shirt with the ruffles down the front, accompanied with a blazer and navy pants. His statement converse on his feet.

“You can’t do this Neil” You sigh, eyes pleading with him not to go through with this crazy charade.

“And why not Y/N? I love Violet, she loves me we want to do this”

“What about me?” You ask unsure of the words leaving your mouth but this was your last chance. Neil’s eyes slide over towards Violet and the pastor before returning to your gaze, bewilderment obvious. “Why do you think I stayed late with you all those nights after work? Wore those stupid costumes with you Neil? Watched those terrible movies”

“Because that’s what friends do?” He asked, shuffling between his left and right foot as he scratched the back of his head.

“No because I fell in love with you. Don’t you see that?” You asked practically pleading with him at this point to at least acknowledge your feelings.

“Everything alright here Neil?” Violet asked stepping towards us, a hop in her step as she linked her hands around his arm.

Jealous coursed through your veins as you looked at the woman in front of you, she had given him countless heart attacks and almost got him shot, literally shot to breaking his heart all for her sick twisted messed up fantasy world and yet he stuck by her.

“You what?” Neil asked, a concerned look on his face like he was trying to solve the worlds hardest maths puzzle. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m a coward. I was afraid you would reject me” You tell him, leaning your feet outward no doubt ruining the sides of your converse as you stood in what many considered an uncomfortable position.

“Neil come on the pastor is waiting” Violet began to tug on his arm now, her gaze flicking to yours with a glare.

“I’ll be right there” Neil muttered towards her, shaking her hands from his arm before running a hand down his face. “You should have told me before now Y/N”

“I know, I’m sorry” You retreated, heart breaking at his choice of words. You didn’t want to stick around and here the actually rejection, it would hurt to much so you began to back out of the small church. “Sorry again, about the…about the door” You called to the pastor again who this time, returned your gaze with a sympathetic nod, no doubt hearing what just happened.

Nodding to no one in particular, you opened the door, gently this time waiting for it to close before you took off running towards the car. Inside where it was safe, you allowed yourself to lose it. Your hands slapped against the steering wheel and sides of the seat. You were too late.

Deciding you didn’t want to stick around for them to leave, you put the car into drive, hitting every green light this time on your way back to the video store to return the cars to Lucien. The lights were clearly a sign from the universe that you shouldn’t have ignored, the red lights before clearing telling you not to do it but you didn’t listen.

“Did you find him?” Lucien asked when you walked through the door, instantly clocking onto your tears. “I’m sorry Y/N, I honestly didn’t think he would chose her. He never shut up about you”

“Don’t, don’t do that. It’s over I was too late” You huff putting the cars into his open expected hand. “Um I probably won’t be around for a bit, you know…with everything so see you around?” You stated, holding up your hand unsure of what to actually do with it.

“You don’t have to do that, we are still your friends”

“Yeah I know but it will be weird with her around. For me at least, I just need to lick my wounds” You reply backing away towards the door, opening the single glass door planning to make your escape for the foreseeable future when a car’s tyres screeching had you looking out to the street.

“Y/N, Y/N” Neil shouted climbing awkwardly out the car door, almost falling out to the road with his clumsiness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”

“It’s fine Neil, I’m happy for you. Truly” You respond willing the tears away to send the newly wedded grown your best.

“Why?” He asked, an almost disgusted look on his face as he stared at you.

“For your marriage, to Violet”

“I didn’t marry her Y/N. It’s always been you”

“What? No, Neil no, don’t say things you don’t mean”

Instead of replying with words, he took two long strides forwards making his way to you and clasping his hands over your ears pulling your face close to his and placing a searing kiss on your lips. You had no idea so much passion and want could be construed through a kiss but somehow Neil managed it.

“Does that prove what I mean?”

“Not really, maybe one more” You grin wrapping your hands around the back of his head holding you close to you, lips working together just like magic.

#cillian murphy characters #neillewis #watching the detectives #neil lewis #one shot #cillian murphy #wedding

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.”

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

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