thank you governor, thank you governor to the mayor and the comissioner your monster is alive now, it’s taken to the streets crashin’ through your opera house and tearin’ out the seats
for every time you sign your name, someone out there dies found a wallet, not a gun a mother wipes a tear from her eyes, we despise your hollow truths and honest lies now you can’t sing the monster into slumber
Would you guys be wiling to do one that doesn't have Steve in it but is all about Steve? I'm thinking of Fury's initial meeting w/ Sharon asking her to protect Steve. Then, subsequent meetings where she reports relevant happenings. But since there are no relevant happenings (until TWS), Sharon's reports consist mainly of Steve's general comings and goings, his lame attempts to hit on her, and the embarrassing stuff he does when he's alone.
“Did you think I didn’t
know?” Fury raised an eyebrow.
“I think my recruiter
didn’t look into it. I expected you
would know, sir.” Sharon stood at parade
rest, only allowing the slightest twich of her lips towards a smile.
Fury hummed. “It’s why you’re here. And not why you’re here.”
“Sir?” She liked Suduko, crosswords and
thousand-piece puzzles. Fury was more
like one of the Fates speaking in riddles than anything else.
“I chose you for this
assignment because Former Director Carter wouldn’t trust anyone else with this
detail. I also chose you for this assignment because regardless of whose
blood you’ve got, you’re the only one I trust with this assignment.”
Sharon let out a slow,
steady breath, feeling the tension bleed out of her shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”
Fury was mulling over a
stack of paperwork, steam curling from his World’s
Best Boss mug that sat at his left elbow.
(She was pretty sure it was a gift from Natasha).
“Your monthly report,
Fury looked up, and sat
back. “Go on.”
“Exercise commences at
0400 hours each day, and ends at 0600.
Grocery shopping every other day, a—“
“—Single or multiple
“Supersoldiers only need
single trips, sir.”
Fury smirked and sipped
“Between 1400 and 1600
hours each Sunday he cleans and sings. He
orders take out once each week, only on Saturdays for his weekly movie marathon. He’s reached the 80s, if I’m not
mistaken. There were a lot of lightsaber noises and don’t-you-forget-about-me’s coming from his apartment last week. And the joke about his midday coffee run
being ‘A mission from God’.”
“Anything unusual or
concerning to report?”
“The number of times he’s
watched Indiana Jones is concerning.”
“He was reckless in the
field before, sir. I worry what new
ideas he’s been picking up.”
Fury smiled, all
teeth. “This is exactly why I chose you for this assignment, agent.”
“… how Cassian had thrown that spear, how he’d cut down soldiers like stalks of wheat, how he’d fought like Enalius - their most ancient warrior-god and the first of the Illyrians”
“Like them, and yet Other”
Enalius. Enalius. Enalius. Whispers of his name, of his tales, of his great and powerful deeds had followed Cassian after the Second War, after he had thrown that spear at the commander with such precision. Those whispers, those looks, had not stopped, had not gotten quieter.
That had caused the Commander to pour over books; to research and dissect what he learned. Everyone knew the story of Enalius. Every little young boy was to be raised to be like him. Strong, brutal, effective. A trained killer with no heart.
Maybe that was why Cassian was shocked to find the Illyrian god indeed had a heart. Indeed had things the tales whispered and lied about him not having. He tucked the book under his arm, left the library and the priestesses, and entered the mountain ranges.
He clutched that book to his heart, flying deeper and deeper into the mountains. The wind seemed to carry him, to support him, to guide him to the cabin that rested between two mountains, as if placed there. Placed there to keep hidden, to keep safe.
His boots crushing against the rocks and soil created a loud thump, the earth shuddering beneath him. Cassian pulled out a long blade, flipping it in his right hand, before approaching the cabin. The book still tucked under his arm, his other hand ready to grab an extra knife, but the door merely swung open, revealing a small woman.
Small may have been the wrong word. She only met Cassian’s chest, but her presence was suffocating. The air in his lungs ceased to his exist, his arm shook, causing his blade to drop to the ground. Her hand was braced on his heart and Cassian struggled to take a step back, to get away from this creature.
When he looked downed at her, her eyes seemed a thousand eons away. Cassian blinked slowly and let out what seemed like his first breath when she dropped her hand, gesturing him inside. Her bare feet moved soundlessly against the floor, wings dragging on the ground behind her.
Cassian left a wide breadth between them as he followed the strange woman. She poured tea, her eyes focused on the table instead of the cup. Cassian reached forward, moving the cup before the tea spilled on the table. The woman smiled.
“Cassian,” She said, looking up. There was a wide smile on her face, love in her voice. She reached out and cupped his face, sighing, her thumb arching down his cheek and nose. “You’ve found me”
Cassian wasn’t sure what, exactly, he found. But he took the tea anyway, holding the cup, but not drinking. The woman, the Illyrian, sat down across from him. Blind. She was blind. Even as she looked at her tea, stirred it, Cassian knew she didn’t really see it.
“I’ve heard whispers of you, Cassian. Whispers of you on the battlefield,” That smile lit up her face again, crinkles forming around her mouth. She had a silent beauty to her, one that only came up on the surface when she summoned it. Those bright brown eyes that seemed to hold worlds within them, those freckles across her face, full cheeks, the dip of her collarbones. Brown skin glowing like a new source of light.
Cassian decided not to question how she heard anything about him from within this isolated cabin. He brought the book forward, opening it to the page about Enalius. And the woman in the mountains. Her two fingers covered the words, brushing down. “This is you, isn’t it? You’re the woman in the cabin”
“I’m a woman in a cabin, yes,” She sighed, her teeth sinking into her full bottom lip. Her shoulders curved forward, sadness filling those eyes. Cassian reached forward, pressing his hand against her cheek. Her eyes lit up once more and she nodded, “Yes, Cassian. I’m the woman in the cabin. I’m Sutton”
“Enalius,” She whispered, her finger tracing around the rim of her cup, but then she froze. “What do you want to know about him, Cassian, General Commander, a force to be reckoned with, death brought to the battle field, fighter of mighty forces”
Cassian swallowed, digging his fingers into his knees. “Who is he? Who is he - to you” Cassian clarified. Her eyes softened and she reached forward, grabbing his hands, her own small ones encircling his.
“Enalius is my first love and one day he will be my last love. Together, we made the Illyrians. I am sad to see how they are today, but I do not regret creating them. I had to watch them destroy themselves from within. Until Enalius spared me of that pain, of that torture”
“He did this to you?” Cassian felt like he was drowning. “How could you blind someone you love?”
“Because you love them” She smiled and gripped his hands harder, pulling herself forward. “Cassian, my curly-headed warrior, the saint’s son, bringer of that is new, the awakener, ask me what you really want to ask”
“Are you my mother?” His voice cracked. The woman sighed and she shook her head, her hands sliding from his. Cassian gripped onto her harder, bringing her hands back to his. If he felt like he was drowning then he knew that if this woman let his hands go he would surely drown as if a boulder was tied to his feet. “Is he…” Cassian swallowed, “Enalius. Is he my father?”
“Is he not everyone’s father?” But the woman was smiling and frowning at the same time, pressing Cassian’s hands to the side of her face. “He loved your mother very much. The saying, if you love someone you must set them free, and if they are truly yours they will come back. I wish he hadn’t come back, Cassian, I do. I wish he had stayed with you and your mother. I wish he did not love me so much, I wish he had not left you with our tortured kind”
Cassian’s head was spinning, his eyes going cross. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. What this woman was saying, what Sutton was saying…
“I wanted you, Cassian. To raise you as our son after your mother had died, for one day she would. She would grow old and die and I was willing to take you in as my own. I love Enalius and I love his son. It was too late and I am sorry for not fighting for you harder, son of Enalius”
Son of a god; son of Enalius.
This writing style is really different than what I normally do. Please tell me what you think. It’s all a bit different and I’m testing the waters, but I hope you liked it. It leaves off as if it isn’t finished and I think that’s my favorite part.
Could you tell us a bit more about Jaime Rosales (maybe share a snippet)? On the hand, he seems to be a manipulative bastard, thanks to what Cristina overheard. On the other hand, both Cristina and Diego love him. Was that plan to control Tina really Jaime's idea or did he want Cristina to overhear in order to warn her? He didn't call her afterwards, which sounds like he knew that she had heard him?
Jaime is a strategist. He has a lot of secrets and he’s working a lot of angles in the attempt to protect something really important.
Summary: In an alternate universe where monsters roam freely among humans, eight of these creatures group together under one roof. Their newest member, a dark vampire, comes to meet their reoccurring house guest who may be more than what she seems.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 2522 Genre: AU Warnings: Mild sexual content, the likeliness of Roo getting axed for more slow burn. A/N: So in this part, we experience Bucky’s POV on that same day and get a little more into his character because reasons. It ties in with his backstory from the Pt3 Prequel as well.
* Cockles boat ride/date and family outing 🙈
* Cockles ice cream/frisbee date 😆
* Cockles sunset pictures (some could be used for romantic book covers 🙊)
* Cockles crab trap stories AKA ‘family stories 😜
* Cockles stripping (Misha) and the other one apparently enjoying the show 😉
* Cockles spa date (I wonder if it was a gift from Jensen to Misha for his b-day or Danneel or Vicky’s idea) 😁
* Jensen basically calling Misha handsome in his b-day tweet 😅
* Jensen liking Misha’s new cologne and Misha making sure he approved 😜
* Cockles nicknames: Dmitri ‘bring it on’, Mish, Mishka 🐻 (fave), teddy bear, puppy, and Jackles and ‘aloha cowboy’ (I would love to hear Misha call Jensen a cute name)
* Cockles on stage kiss (actually two if we count the ‘fake kiss) 😚
* Cockles longing stares, whispering in ears and arm/shoulder touches 😃
* Cockles grinding on stage and Misha’s mischievous hand on Jensen’s jewels 😅
* Jensen possessively wrapping his arm around Misha’s waist 😱
* Cockles ass tapping 😋
* Jealous cockles, kinda with Matt and Sebastian 😏
* Jensen’s grabbing Misha’s hand and gently caressing it on Matt’s shoulder (Wiggles eyebrows, they should have an emoji for that 😶)
* Jared kinda outing Cockles with his multiple suggestive jokes lol ( God bless that big moose 🙏🏼)
*Cockles Twitter flirting 🔫
*Cockles bleeding to Destiel
*All the dirty jokes between Jensen and Misha in the bloopers (I’m crying because of all the ones we would never see 😭)
* Don’t get me started on octopus Jensen during cockles photo ops AND the unicorn laughs, also the whipped looks on their faces EWW! 😖
* Jensen’s accent kink (indiarussia anyone?)
* And how could I forget the Cockles on stage orgasm?! Well, it was Misha but Jensen’s eyes almost came out of his sockets, among other things 😅
What else am I forgetting? I know I’m forgetting plenty but I need to go back to sleep. Add your own if you remember any ~
The enemy hits the wall with what should have been a loud sickening crunch of bones, but the protective vest he’s wearing does its job as he only slumps down against it, looking mildly disoriented. That is, up until Bucky reaches him and finishes the job by planting a metal fist in his face. Seconds later, Steve is grabbing Bucky by the same arm to spin him around in order to plant his lips on Bucky’s face in a swift, ardent, and very much promising kiss, before returning to the still-raging battle once more. Bucky doesn’t give it much thought, even as he raises his rifle to take aim at a new target, smiling with the taste of his patriotic lover still fresh on his lips.
Bucky kicks aimlessly at one of the mercenaries lying on the ground, and the soldier grunts when he’s turned over onto his back by the bloodied tip of Bucky’s boot.
“Amateurs…” Bucky mutters dryly.
He gives the now-unconscious body another nonchalant kick with his heel, and turns around.
“You good?” Steve asks, and Bucky scoffs while tucking his knife back into the sheath strapped around his thigh. There’s sweat forming on his brow, but it’s the good kind of sweat – the kind that makes you feel like you’ve actually been productive.
“Of course,” he says. He tries not to make it sound like he’s smug about it. He might be, though.
“Good,” Steve says, smirking while he pulls Bucky in by the hip, and Bucky lets him, humming when Steve mouths at his jaw. “You looked hot,” Steve murmurs. Bucky frowns a little, but decides not to comment on the cryptic praise when Steve begins to nip at his bottom lip.
Another fight; another incompetent enemy. Bucky snorts as he watches their unrefined technique while they flail around, trying to land a hit on him. It’s ridiculous. Three steps, and he’s got five of them down, the sixth and final one staggering back with eyes nearly bulging out of his head when Bucky turns his gaze on him. One, two, three, four steps, followed by the muted thud as the stock of Bucky’s gun connects with the asshole’s face. It all goes ludicrously quick, and by the time Bucky turns around, the rest of the fight is already over.
Steve is heading his way, striding towards him with that look on his face. Bucky braces himself, because that face could mean that he’s about to get the biggest scolding of his life, or kissed within an inch of it.
Turns out it’s the latter, and Bucky groans with surprise when Steve drops his shield to the ground by their feet to cup Bucky’s face with both hands, mashing their lips together with a low snarl that travels all the way down to Bucky’s toes.
Slowly, Bucky begins to sense a pattern.
It’s ten minutes past midnight, the warehouse is nearly pitch black apart from the flickering fluorescent lights above their heads, and Bucky is pissed off. As the target makes a break for it, running down the narrow hallway leading towards the loading docks out back, Bucky is already looking forward to the punch he’s going to land on the bastard’s face when he gets to him. He’s not even going to use his enhanced arm.
That had been Bucky’s good gun, dammit! He spent days tuning that thing, and now it’s gone, all thanks to this bastard!
Up ahead, the man throws a panicked stare over his shoulder just as he slams against the door leading to the loading docks out back. The door remains firmly closed, and Bucky’s lip pulls up in a snarl as he stomps his way forward, boots beating hard against the concrete floor.
“No!” the man wheezes. “No, no, please!”
Bucky doesn’t listen. The man cowers when Bucky’s hand clasps around the back of his neck, hauling him up and throwing him back the same way they’d come. The coward lands on his back, sliding over the floor like a shuffleboard piece. “I’m sorry!” he wails when Bucky stalks after him, although Bucky knows he has no idea what he’s apologizing for. It’s a wild chance, a final resort, and for some reason that makes Bucky’s anger flare up in a blazing rage, only to die out just as fast. He looks down at the human being huddled up into a ball on the floor, shaking like a child while Bucky looms over him, and slowly, Bucky uncurls his fists by his sides.
“You’re pathetic,” he hisses. Then he gives the guy a swift kick to the face, and the man goes out like a light.
Bucky straightens up, lifting his gaze, and he’s already expecting it when he sees Steve standing there at the end of the corridor, looking at him. Steve’s eyes are dark, his breathing rapid, and Bucky decides that it’s time to put his theory to the test.
He pulls his shoulders up, canting his head down, and walks. Firm, determined steps, eyes on the target. He puts his entire body into the motion, using it to put additional weight to his gait, and he can see the effect it has reflected on Steve’s face, clear as glass.
When he stops, his chest is just an inch shy from Steve’s own, and he doesn’t have to wait long before Steve’s hands are grabbing around his shoulders and shoving him squarely up against the wall behind them. It knocks the breath out of Bucky’s lungs in the best of ways, and Bucky gasps when Steve’s mouth lands on his with a predatory growl.
The kiss is rough, fierce, and Bucky melts into it with a moan, like butter in a frying pan.
“You jerk,” Steve breathes against his lips. “You know I love it when you strut like that.”
Bucky grins, gasping a little when Steve moves down to suck a bruising kiss over the skin of his neck. “I sure do…” he pants, closing his eyes.